#dancing without shoes in the grass. . .

[seoulmatez]

i have been thinking about dancing with boothill since his trailer dropped and it’s driving me crazy

[dollgxtz]

Trick or...Temptation?

Word Count: 9.8k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, pet play if u squint, creampie, biting, rough sex, pet names like kitten, sweetie, penetration, cunninlingus, i wanted to make this a vampire!sylus fic so bad but I got nervous lmao but theres slight mentions of him :3

AN: Happy Halloween everyone! I sincerely hope u all enjoy this, it was super fun to write! I rushed to finish this so I could post it exactly on Halloween. Enjoy!

“What?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he ran his thumb over the spot on your neck where he had bitten you. “You thought I was joking?” You opened your mouth, trying to find the words, but before you could speak, Sylus leaned in close again, his breath hot against your ear. “Be still,” he murmured, his tone soft but commanding. “You can handle it. Just like you said.”

“Come oooon! It’ll be so much fun!” Tara exclaimed, trailing behind you as you both walked out of work. The day had ended early thanks to the holiday, and while most people had exciting Halloween plans, you had opted for a quiet night in with a scary movie marathon. Of course, your enthusiastic coworker had other ideas for you.

“Tara, as much as I’d love to, it’s really just not my scene, you know? Maybe next year?” you tried, hoping to dodge her invitation once again.

“You always say that!” Tara pouted, her voice pleading as she quickened her pace to walk beside you. “Please? It’ll be fun! Just a few hours, a couple of drinks, a little dancing, and we can leave! Deal? It’s a festival, for crying out loud! I don’t want to go by myself.”

You glanced at Tara, her eyes wide and shimmering with that classic puppy-dog look she always gave you when she really wanted something. You couldn’t deny she had a point. It wasn’t like you had big plans for the night—just a quiet evening with a blanket and some popcorn. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad to step out for a few hours, right?

“Fine,” you finally sighed, rolling your eyes but smiling a little. “But only for a few hours, and then I’m out.”

“Yes! Thank you, thank you, bestie!” Tara squealed, practically bouncing in excitement. “I’ll see you later tonight! You’re going to love it!”

And that was how you found yourself here, standing in front of your mirror, dressed in a skimpy cat costume. You adjusted the white miniskirt and tugged at the black corset top, making sure everything was in place. The cat ears perched on your head and the swishing tail added a playful touch, though the whole ensemble was definitely more revealing than you were used to. You sighed, resigned to your fate.

You didn’t have to stay long, you reminded yourself. Just a few hours, and then you could slip back into your original plan of movie night...hopefully without running into too much trouble.

You sighed and pulled out your phone, typing a quick message to Tara: On my way. Hitting send, you opened your ride-share app. If you were going to be drinking tonight, it was best not to drive yourself. The car arrived faster than you expected, and you slipped into the back seat, watching the city lights blur by as you mentally prepared yourself for the night ahead.

Arriving at the event, you stepped out of the car and immediately took in the scene. The park had been transformed into a Halloween wonderland, bustling with life. String lights cast a soft, warm glow over the area, illuminating clusters of people already well into the party spirit. Bodies bumped together in rhythm with the pulsing beat of the music, and a mix of excited chatter and laughter filled the cool night air. The grass beneath your shoes was damp with evening dew, and the faint scent of autumn leaves and spiced drinks wafted through the crowd.

Everywhere you looked, Halloween-themed decorations adorned the space—carved pumpkins lined the walkways, some with goofy faces, others with intricate, eerie designs. Fake cobwebs clung to the trees, and glowing skeletons and witch hats dangled from makeshift booths. There was an excitement in the air, palpable and contagious, though you still felt a little out of place.

Your eyes wandered toward the bar at the far end of the festival grounds. It was busy, but it was exactly what you needed. Liquid courage, you thought. If you were going to make it through the night, a drink or two would certainly help take the edge off. You made a beeline for it, weaving through the crowd, your thoughts focused on what your first drink would be—something strong, something to help you loosen up.

Just as you were about to make your escape, a high-pitched squeal cut through the music, and you barely had time to turn before you saw her—Tara, dressed in her fairy costume, wings glittering under the lights, barreling toward you at full speed.

“You’re here!!” she cried, wrapping you in an excited hug before you could even react. “Oh my God, I thought for sure you’d bailed or fallen asleep or something!”

You laughed, the sound surprising even you. “Yeah, well, you convinced me. I wouldn’t leave you hanging,” you said, shaking your head as you hugged her back, her energy instantly infectious.

Tara pulled back, her wide smile practically glowing. “Thank you soooo much for coming! I’m so excited, I can’t even—” she paused, looking you up and down, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “You look amazing! That cat costume is sexy! Definitely a step up from your usual movie marathon at home, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll admit, this is...different,” you muttered, tugging at the hem of your miniskirt. The cool night air reminded you just how short it was. But Tara was right—you didn’t do this often. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to try something new tonight.

Tara, completely unfazed by your slight discomfort, grabbed your hand with excitement. “Alright, enough chatting. Let’s get some drinks! We’re here to have fun, and the night is young!”

She pulled you toward the bar, and you couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. It wasn’t your scene, but with Tara by your side, maybe the night wouldn’t be so bad after all. The thumping bass of the music, the swirl of costumes, and the faint buzz of excitement in the air already had you feeling a little lighter.

The two of you made your way through the crowd and finally approached the bar. It was busy, but not unbearable, with people lined up in various costumes, chatting, laughing, and ordering drinks. As you and Tara waited for your turn, she started rambling about all the new Halloween movies you two could watch later, once the festival was over.

“There’s this one that’s supposed to be so creepy! It’s about these haunted scarecrows that come to life—oh, and don’t even get me started on the one with the possessed doll…” Tara continued, her excitement infectious as she rattled off titles.

You nodded along, half-listening, your mind slightly wandering as you scanned the area. The lights flickered over the bar, casting an eerie glow on the bottles lined up behind the counter. The decorations were elaborate—fake cobwebs stretched across the bar shelves, and jack-o’-lanterns glowed faintly from the corners of the space. You were just starting to get lost in your thoughts when the bartender, a stunning blonde woman dressed in a witch costume, turned to you with a smile.

“Hi, can I get a—” you began, but you were abruptly cut off by a smooth, male voice behind you.

“I’ll get a Gin Fizz and two margaritas for the ladies,” the voice said with casual authority.

You froze for a moment, the sound of that voice sending a jolt down your spine. You spun around, and there he was.

Sylus.

Tall, effortlessly imposing, with his signature white hair catching the dim light and his crimson red eyes locking onto yours with that familiar, knowing glint. He wore a dark, sleek outfit that hugged his frame perfectly, making him stand out even in the crowd of costumes. His smile was just as confident and wicked as you remembered.

“Long time no see, kitten” he said, his voice smooth, dripping with amusement as he looked down at you, eyeing your costume.

Your stomach did a flip. Of all the people you could have run into tonight, Sylus was the last person you expected—or wanted—to see. You hadn’t seen him in a while, and now here he was, appearing out of nowhere like he always did, and immediately making your pulse quicken.

“Sy-I mean Skye?” you stammered, catching yourself as Tara turned around too, clearly intrigued by the sudden appearance of this tall, striking man. Her bright eyes went wide, and she started clapping her hands excitedly.

“Skye! I haven’t seen you since our team-building outing! How’s the fruit business?” she asked, her voice bright and friendly as she came to stand beside you, completely unaware of your racing heart.

Sylus—no, Skye—didn’t miss a beat. He flashed Tara an easy smile, looking as unruffled as ever. “Ah, the fruit business is...ripe as always,” he replied with a wink towards you, clearly enjoying the nervous look on your face.

The bartender cleared her throat, cutting through the tension. “There’s a line, folks,” she said with a polite but firm smile, nodding toward the queue of people waiting for their drinks. “Take your drinks and let the others through.”

You blinked, suddenly remembering where you were. Nervously, you reached for your margarita and handed Sylus his gin fizz, all while trying to calm the wild beating of your heart. The casual smirk on his face did nothing to help your nerves. With drinks in hand, you and Tara moved toward a quieter, empty spot at the edge of the festival, away from the bar's chaos. Sylus, of course, followed.

As soon as you settled into your spot, Sylus wasted no time, his teasing smirk never fading. His eyes roamed over your outfit—your skimpy black cat costume with the mini skirt, corset top, and cat ears—and you could practically feel the heat of his gaze.

With a predatory gleam in his eye, he sauntered over, his smirk growing more wicked by the second. “You say you don’t want me calling you kitten, and yet here you are,” he drawled, letting his gaze sweep over your costume. “Dressed as one. How cute.”

You glared at him, already feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. “Zip it...” you warned, rolling your eyes at the sheer irony of it all. But despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help but let a small giggle slip past your lips. It was absurd, really. Of course, of all the costumes you could've picked it just had to be this one.

He just chuckled, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. He took a sip of his own drink, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “What are you even doing here?” you finally asked, your voice a little sharper than intended. “I thought you didn’t like crowded places.”

Sylus gave a soft laugh, leaning against a nearby post with his usual air of nonchalance. “I’m not a fan of crowds,” he admitted, his gaze flickering back to the sea of people dancing and drinking. “But I happen to own this little part of Linkon.” He said it so casually, as if it were no big deal. “Figured I’d make an appearance. Keep an eye on things.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. Of course he did. Sylus always had a way of showing up in places you least expected him—places you thought you could escape from him, if only for a night. But owning part of the city? That was new.

But not surprising.

Tara, who had already downed her margarita, was clearly impressed. “Woah, Skye,” she slurred slightly, her eyes wide with admiration. “The fruit vendor business must pay soooo well.”

You shot her a look, silently willing her to stop talking, but she was already giggling, oblivious to the tension between you and Sylus. He, on the other hand, seemed more amused than anything.

“What can I say?” Sylus replied smoothly, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Fresh fruit is forever in demand.” His eyes met yours again, clearly enjoying the joke that only the two of you understood.

You groaned inwardly, sipping more of your margarita as you glared at Sylus. He was playing along, effortlessly weaving his cover story about being a simple fruit vendor. And yet, there he was, owning half the city and standing in front of you, looking like he could control the whole damn world if he wanted to.

Sylus raised his glass in a mock toast, his crimson eyes never leaving yours. “Happy Halloween?” he said with a wink, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips.

“Yeah, sure,” you muttered under your breath, knowing full well that this night was gonna be a loooong one.

Tara, always quick to notice things, suddenly glanced at Sylus with a playful frown. “Wait a second, Skye,” she said, squinting at him, “you’re not even in costume!” She giggled, rummaging through her bag, clearly not letting him off the hook. “This is a Halloween festival, after all. You’ve gotta dress the part!”

You internally groaned, already bracing yourself for whatever Tara had up her sleeve. But of course, she wasn’t about to disappoint. With a triumphant grin, she pulled out a small plastic case from her bag and popped it open, revealing a pair of cheap, plastic vampire fangs.

“Here!” she said, holding them out to Sylus with a twinkle in her eye. “These will work perfectly. You’ve already got the whole pale, mysterious look going on. You’d make such a great vampire!”

You couldn’t help but glance at Sylus, your heart skipping a beat as you realized just how well Tara’s suggestion fit. His striking white hair, his sharp features, and those intense, crimson eyes...he really would make a disturbingly convincing vampire.

To your surprise—and mild horror—Sylus flashed a wicked grin, clearly entertained by the whole situation. “A vampire, huh?” he mused, taking the plastic fangs from Tara’s hand and inspecting them. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, glinting with that all-too-familiar mischief. “I guess I can pull that off.”

He slid the fake teeth into his mouth with an exaggerated flourish, and somehow, even with cheap plastic fangs, he managed to look both ridiculous and annoyingly attractive at the same time. He bared his new "fangs" with a cheeky grin, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“See?” Tara beamed, clapping her hands together. “I told you! You look like you’ve been doing this your whole life!”

Sylus smirked, turning his attention back to you, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone he always used to get under your skin. “I do make a rather convincing vampire, don’t I?” he said, flashing his fake fangs at you with a playful gleam in his eyes. “What do you think, kitten?”

You glared at him, half-annoyed, half-amused. “You’re lucky I don’t have garlic,” you muttered, sipping your drink to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

Tara, oblivious to the tension between the two of you, just giggled again and raised her empty glass. “I need another drink after that! I'm gonna go get another round,” she said, already walking back toward the bar.

As soon as Tara was out of earshot, Sylus’s demeanor shifted slightly. The playful grin remained, but now, with just the two of you, there was something darker, more intense in his expression. He stepped closer, his presence suddenly much more imposing.

“You know,” he began, his voice dropping to a low murmur as he closed the distance between you, “I think your friend is onto something” His eyes gleamed, locking onto yours with that wicked, teasing look you knew all too well.

Before you could react, he leaned in—so close that you could feel his warm breath on your neck. Your heart jumped in your chest, the sudden proximity sending a shiver down your spine. His breath was hot against your skin, teasing, as he lingered just inches from your neck, not touching you but close enough that goosebumps instantly rose along your arms.

You froze, every nerve in your body suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was. The scent of him, a mix of something dark and enticing, filled your senses. Your pulse quickened, and you couldn’t hide the goosebumps now crawling up your skin.

He let his breath linger for just a moment longer before his lips curled into a smirk near your ear. “You might want to watch out, kitten,” he whispered, his voice a low, teasing growl. “I could get used to this.”

Your breath hitched, and you struggled to keep your composure, your pulse racing wildly. “Sylus…” you warned, trying to sound stern, but your voice betrayed the effect he was having on you.

He chuckled softly, clearly reveling in your reaction. Straightening up slightly, he didn’t step back but remained close, his crimson eyes still locked on yours. “What’s the matter?” he teased, his voice smooth and playful. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You glared at him, trying to mask the fact that your heart was still hammering in your chest. “Don’t start,” you muttered, forcing a glare, even though you could still feel the heat from where his breath had brushed your skin.

Sylus took a slow sip of his drink, his smirk never fading. “I wasn’t starting anything,” he said innocently, though the mischievous gleam in his eyes said otherwise. “Just playing the part.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes, but the warmth in your cheeks and the pounding of your heart betrayed you. “Just don’t bite anyone,” you shot back, trying to reclaim some control over the situation.

“No promises,” Sylus said, his voice soft but dangerous, his gaze lingering on you as if you were his prey.

Tara came bouncing back over to you with two martinis, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Hey! Want to dance?” she asked, already swaying to the music.

You barely hesitated, desperate for a way to escape the overwhelming tension with Sylus. “Yeah, sure,” you said, quickly taking the martini from Tara and downing a good portion of it. You could feel Sylus’s eyes on you, and when you glanced his way, he simply gave a slight nod, clearly content with watching you both from afar.

Your skin prickled under his gaze as you and Tara made your way toward the middle of the festival. The music was thumping, bodies swaying together under the dim, flickering lights. You still felt uneasy knowing Sylus was watching you, his presence like a shadow you couldn’t shake. But as the alcohol worked its way through your system, slowly loosening your limbs and dulling the tension, you started to let yourself get lost in the music. Tara twirled around you, laughing and dancing without a care in the world, and soon enough, you found yourself smiling and moving along with her.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but the warmth of the alcohol was settling into your bones, making everything seem a little hazier, a little easier. The bass pulsed through the air, the crowd a blur of costumes and laughter, and for a moment, you forgot about Sylus’s watchful eyes.

But eventually, a different need called your attention—you really had to pee.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you shouted over the music to Tara.

“I’ll come with you!” she offered, but you shook your head.

“No, no, it’s fine. Stay here! I’ll be right back.”

Tara shrugged, happily returning to her dancing as you weaved your way through the crowd, the cool night air hitting your flushed skin as you stepped away from the dance floor. Your steps were a little unsteady, and as you made your way to the row of porta potties set up near the back of the festival grounds, you blinked to clear your vision. Everything seemed a little...fuzzy. The alcohol was really kicking in now, and you swore the ground felt a little wobbly under your feet.

You managed to find an open porta potty, and after handling your business, you stepped out, blinking again as the world swayed in front of you. Shit...am I really this drunk? you thought, steadying yourself against the side of the porta potty for a moment. Your vision was blurry, and everything seemed a little too bright, a little too loud.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a figure approaching. For a second, you thought it was Sylus. The height was wrong, but the dark outline and the way the man moved had you second-guessing yourself. Relief almost flooded through you, but then the figure got closer, and the sour, stale scent hit your nose.

No, this definitely wasn’t Sylus.

The man was much shorter, stockier, and as he came closer, you could smell him—like sweat and cheap cologne, mixed with the stench of too much booze. Your stomach churned uncomfortably as he stepped into your personal space, his breath hot and sour as he leaned in a little too close.

“Hey there,” he slurred, his voice dripping with false charm. “You look a little lost. Why don’t you come to my car? It’s parked just over there.”

Your heart jumped in your chest, and you instinctively stepped back, trying to put some distance between you and him. “No, I’m fine,” you said quickly, your voice shaky as you tried to move past him. But he stepped into your path, blocking you with an alarming quickness for someone who seemed so drunk.

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” he said, his tone darkening, his hand reaching out to grab your arm. “It’ll be fun. I can show you a good time, little kitty.”

Panic surged through you as you tried to yank your arm away, stumbling slightly as your vision blurred again. The alcohol was making it hard to focus, and you cursed under your breath. “No, leave me alone!” you said, your voice firmer now as you tried to push past him.

But he wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, his face twisting with frustration. “I said come with me,” he growled, pulling harder.

Your pulse skyrocketed, fear taking over as you struggled to break free. Just as you were about to shout for help, a shadow loomed behind the man.

“I’d suggest you listen to her.”

That voice—it was low, cold, and unmistakable. You looked up, relief crashing through you like a wave as Sylus appeared, his tall figure practically radiating menace. The shorter man immediately let go of your arm, turning to face Sylus with a sneer, clearly trying to act tough despite the difference in size.

“And who the hell are you? I'm her boyfriend, fuck off” the man spat, puffing out his chest.

Sylus’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. “Is that so?” he asked, his voice low and deadly. Without another word, a cold red mist began to swirl around him, tendrils of it seeping through the air like something out of a nightmare. The temperature around you seemed to drop, and you could feel the mist growing denser, colder.

The drunken man didn’t seem to realize what was happening until it was too late. The red mist wrapped around him like a snake, tightening and choking him. His eyes bulged as he gasped for air, his grip on your arm loosening as fear took over.

Sylus didn’t stop. His eyes were locked on the man, his fury palpable as the mist constricted tighter.

The man’s face turned a sickly shade of purple as he clawed at the mist around his throat, desperately trying to break free. He gagged, his drunken bravado crumbling into pure terror.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice shaking as you stepped forward, grabbing Sylus’s arm. “Stop. You’re going to kill him...there's people all around us.”

Sylus’s eyes flicked to you, still cold and angry, but there was a flicker of hesitation. You could see the struggle behind his gaze, his fury barely held in check. But slowly, the mist around the man’s throat began to dissipate. Sylus released him, letting the man fall to the ground, coughing and wheezing as he scrambled to his feet.

The man didn’t waste a second. He stumbled away, terrified, mumbling incoherently as he disappeared into the crowd, wanting nothing more than to escape the nightmare he had just experienced.

Sylus’s shoulders tensed, his body still vibrating with anger as he watched the man retreat. His breathing was heavy, and though the mist had vanished, the chill in the air remained.

You stood there, your heart still racing, unsure whether to feel relieved or terrified by what had just happened. As Sylus turned toward you, you could see him trying to calm himself.

“My kitten,” he said softly, though his voice was still rough with residual anger, “is always getting herself into sticky situations.” He took a step closer, his usual smirk returning, though there was a hardness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Good thing I’m a vampire tonight. I can sniff out when she gets herself in trouble.”

You managed a shaky laugh, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. “You didn’t have to almost kill him,” you muttered, trying to regain your composure.

Sylus shrugged, his eyes softening as he looked you over, checking to make sure you were truly alright. “He deserved worse,” he said, though his tone was lighter now. “But I’ll behave. For you.”

Sylus suddenly glanced down at his watch, his expression hardening almost instantly. Without warning, he turned to you and, in a firm voice, announced, “We’re leaving.”

You blinked, confused. “What? Leaving? Why? What about Tara?”

But Sylus didn’t bother explaining. He grabbed your arm with a sense of urgency, pulling you away from the festival and weaving through the crowd. You tried to dig your feet into the ground, but with the alcohol still lingering in your system, your balance wasn’t on your side. “Hey! What about Tara?” you protested, struggling to keep up with his swift pace.

Sylus barely glanced back at you as he strode toward a sleek, black car parked near the edge of the festival grounds. “Luke and Kieran are taking her home,” he replied coolly, unlocking the car with a flick of his wrist. “Behave, and get inside.”

You planted your feet, halting in your tracks as you shook your head, confused and frustrated. “Wait—what? Why are we leaving so suddenly? I don’t—”

But Sylus wasn’t in the mood for a debate. He turned, his eyes flashing with irritation, and in one swift motion, he pushed the car door open, his grip on your arm tightening slightly as he guided you into the passenger seat. You tried to resist, squirming under his firm hold.

“Get in the car,” he sighed, clearly not in the mood to argue. “Please.”

After a bit more struggle—your alcohol-fueled frustration not making it easy—you finally huffed in defeat and let him guide you into the seat. He shut the door behind you with a sharp click before rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat.

You sulked in silence as he started the engine, the low hum of the car doing little to soothe your frustration. You didn’t understand why Sylus was being so forceful all of a sudden, and the abruptness of it all only added to the confusion swirling in your mind. The alcohol still clouded your thoughts, making it hard to argue, and as the car began to move, the steady rhythm of the ride lulled you into an unexpected calm.

Your eyelids grew heavy, and despite the tension of the night, you found yourself slowly drifting off. The next thing you knew, darkness had settled around you, and your body slipped into a deep, alcohol-fueled sleep.

When you woke, you felt yourself being carried, the world around you shifting. The first thing you noticed was Sylus’s steady, strong grip beneath you, his arms holding you close as he walked. You blinked groggily, your vision clearing slightly as you realized you were no longer at the festival—or in the car.

Sylus was carrying you through the dim, industrial halls of his home in the N109 Zone. The walls were dark and sleek, bathed in a soft glow from the faint lights overhead. The cold, sterile air of the house prickled against your skin, sobering you up a little more as you processed what was happening.

A wave of frustration hit you. With your head clearer now, you reached up and pinched his cheek, your fingers digging in as you muttered, “Asshole.”

Sylus let out a soft grunt of surprise, glancing down at you with a bemused look. “Still feisty, I see,” he murmured, though there was an amused glint in his eyes. “How unfortunate that the nap didn't dull your attitude".

You scowled, still annoyed by the way he had just whisked you away without any explanation. “You dragged me away from the festival without even telling me why,” you muttered, your voice sharper now that you were more awake. “What the hell, Sylus?”

He just chuckled softly, ignoring the sting from your pinch. “You were in no state to argue,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact as he carried you further into his home. “And I had enough of babysitting you the whole night.”

“Well I didn't ask you to watch me,” you grumbled, though your body still felt heavy with the lingering effects of alcohol. You squirmed a little in his arms, trying to free yourself, but his grip on you was steady and unyielding.

“You can complain all you want, kitten,” he said with a smirk, “but you needed to get out of there. Trust me.”

You huffed, more irritated now. “Don’t call me kitten,” you muttered, glaring up at him through half-lidded eyes. It was bad enough that he always teased you with that nickname—tonight, it felt like he was deliberately rubbing salt in the wound.

Sylus glanced down at you, his smirk deepening into a mischievous grin. “Why not?” he asked, his voice soft, teasing, as his eyes traveled over your outfit. “You’re dressed like one tonight. Seems even more fitting than usual, doesn’t it?”

Sylus carried you effortlessly through the halls of his home until he reached his room. He set you down gently on the large, plush bed, its softness immediately pulling you in. The sheets felt cool against your skin as you sank into them, your body still heavy with the lingering effects of alcohol.

You watched as Sylus moved across the room, grabbing a glass of water from a nearby table and bringing it back to the nightstand beside the bed. “Drink this,” he said, his voice less teasing now, more gentle. “You’ll feel better in the morning. Go to sleep.”

You rolled your eyes but obediently took a sip, the cool water soothing your dry throat. As you placed the glass back down, you realized that the fog in your mind was starting to lift. You weren’t as drunk as you had been earlier—your head was clearer now, though you were still feeling bold enough to be a little reckless.

Sylus walked across the room, settling into a large leather chair near the window, watching you from a distance. He leaned back, his crimson eyes glinting in the low light, clearly still on edge after the events of the night.

But something stirred inside you—a spark of mischievousness born from the alcohol still lingering in your system. You narrowed your eyes at him, thinking of how he had pulled you away from the festival without warning, how he always teased you, and how you could never seem to one-up him. Maybe now was your chance.

You slid out of bed and onto all fours, quietly crawling toward him. Sylus raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but cautious. “What are you doing?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and warning.

You didn’t answer. Instead, when you reached him, you rested your face against his legs and set your head down in his lap, rubbing your cheek against him in a way that could only be described as cat-like.

For a moment, Sylus just stared at you, processing what you were doing. Then, a low chuckle escaped his lips, and he leaned forward slightly, looking down at you with amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Not only are you dressed like a cat,” he said, his voice laced with playful sarcasm, “but now you’ve decided to act like one too.”

You smirked to yourself, feeling triumphant in your little act of rebellion. “I’m just embracing the part,” you murmured, your voice teasing as you nuzzled your face slightly against his legs.

Sylus’s hand twitched slightly, and for a moment, you wondered if he would push you away—but he didn’t. Instead, he just watched you, his gaze sharp and curious, though there was a flicker of something darker beneath his playful expression.

“Careful, kitten,” he said softly, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous tone that always made your pulse race. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze, the mischief still swirling inside you. “And what if I am?” you challenged, pushing yourself just a little further, enjoying the way his body tensed beneath you.

Sylus’s crimson eyes darkened, his smirk fading slightly as he studied you more closely. There was something electric in the air between you now, the tension palpable as he weighed his next move.

“You’re bold tonight,” he said, his voice softer now, more serious. “Bolder than usual.”

You just smiled up at him, feeling a rush of satisfaction at having thrown him off balance, even if only slightly. “Maybe it’s the cat costume,” you teased, still resting your head in his lap. “Or maybe it’s just you.”

Sylus’s eyes darkened, his smirk growing more predatory as he leaned down slightly, closing the distance between your faces. He looked at you with a gleam of amusement and hunger, his tone shifting to something deeper, more commanding.

“Since you’re feeling so bold,” he said softly, his voice dripping with a dangerous edge, “you should have no problem mewling a little for me then, hm?”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, the sudden shift in tone making your pulse race even faster. The way he looked at you, his gaze intense and unwavering, made your skin prickle with nervous anticipation. He wasn’t playing around anymore. The teasing had escalated, and now he was testing you, pushing you to see how far you would go.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, a mix of defiance and something else stirring within you. The tension between you two had never been more palpable, and in that moment, it felt like a line was being drawn—a challenge you weren’t sure if you wanted to accept or retreat from.

Sylus leaned back slightly, his expression amused as he watched the gears turn in your head. “What’s the matter?” he teased, though his voice was softer now, coaxing. “Cat got your tongue?"

You smirked at Sylus’s challenge, the mischievous spark in your eyes growing even brighter. Fine, you thought, two can play at that game.

Without hesitation, you leaned into the role he was teasing you about, doubling down on your boldness. You let out a soft, playful meow, pawing at his legs like a mischievous cat. The alcohol still buzzing in your system only made it easier to fully embrace the act, and you were determined to throw him off balance—if only for a moment.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised at how far you were willing to take the game, but his smirk never wavered. If anything, it deepened as he watched you with amusement, his crimson eyes twinkling with intrigue. “Oh, so we’re really doing this?” he murmured, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

You meowed again, more dramatically this time, your hands pawing at his pants as you looked up at him with exaggerated innocence. You could see the amusement in his eyes, and you knew you had him—at least for now. Deciding to push the limits, you got even closer, deciding to rub your face against his half hard cock hidden beneath his jeans.

Seems he was more affected than he was letting on.

With a mocking grin, Sylus reached down and ran his hand gently over the top of your head, as if petting you like a real cat. “You must be very drunk,” he teased, his voice light and playful. “Acting like a kitten and now letting me pet you? I need a camera.”

But before he could pull his hand away, you leaned forward and bit him—lightly, but enough to make a point. He barely reacted before withdrawing his hand, his eyes widening with mock surprise as he looked down at you.

“Oh?,” Sylus said with a chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “You even bite too? What an unpredictable little kitten I have”

You grinned up at him, feeling victorious in your rebellion, the mixture of alcohol and adrenaline making you bolder than ever. “I warned you not to underestimate me,” you teased, your eyes still locked on his, enjoying the game far more than you expected.

Sylus’s playful smirk returned, though there was an undeniable glint of something darker in his gaze. “I think you've forgotten something though” he said softly, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping lower.

"I bite back.”

Your pulse quickened, but you kept your grin in place, unwilling to back down now. The tension between the two of you was palpable, the playful teasing quickly evolving into something far more intense. You had started this game, and now you were both caught in it.

But for now, you weren’t ready to back down. “I think I can handle it,” you replied, your voice light but laced with challenge.

Sylus’s eyes flickered with amusement, but the edge in his gaze remained. “Is that so?”

Before you could react, Sylus stood up abruptly, his towering presence looming over you. Caught off guard, you stumbled backward, landing on your elbows. Instinctively, you began to scoot back, trying to put some distance between you and his intense gaze, but there was nowhere to go. You felt the cool sheets of the bed press against your back as you found yourself cornered, unable to escape the situation you'd playfully started.

Sylus took a slow step forward, his eyes locked on yours, predatory and amused. He enjoyed how you had pushed him, but now it seemed like the tables had turned. You bit your lip, feeling your heart race in a way that wasn’t just from fear or excitement—it was something more.

“Sylus,” you said, your voice half-teasing, half-nervous, “you’re not really going to—” But the words caught in your throat as he leaned over you, his face inches from yours, cutting off any space for escape.

You were about to plead again, but your voice faltered as he lowered himself closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Why so nervous now?” he teased, his voice low and dangerous, echoing your earlier defiance.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the intensity in his gaze rendered you speechless. Instead, all you could do was look at him, your breath catching in your throat as the air around you thickened with anticipation.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice softer now, though the predatory edge was still there, lingering just beneath the surface.

You nodded again, almost breathless. “Y-yes,” you whispered.

Without waiting another moment, Sylus’s lips were on yours. The kiss was slow at first, his hand coming up to cradle your face gently, despite the tension hanging in the air. You melted into the kiss, your mind swimming as his lips moved against yours with a mixture of tenderness and hunger. It was as if he was savoring every second.

But then his lips trailed down, leaving a hot path along your jawline, and before you knew it, he was at your neck. You shuddered, the sensation making your pulse quicken, and just as the heat spread through you, you felt a sharp sting—his teeth sinking into your skin.

You gasped, a groan escaping your lips as the bite sent a jolt of pain through your body. Your hands instinctively gripped the sheets beneath you as your body tensed, your head spinning with the mixture of pain and adrenaline. Sylus’s teeth sank in deeper for just a moment, the pressure sharp but somehow electrifying.

Then, just as suddenly, he pulled back, giving you a moment to catch your breath. His crimson eyes gleamed as he watched your reaction, a smirk playing on his lips.

“What?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he ran his thumb over the spot on your neck where he had bitten you. “You thought I was joking?”

You opened your mouth, trying to find the words, but before you could speak, Sylus leaned in close again, his breath hot against your ear. “Be still,” he murmured, his tone soft but commanding. “You can handle it. Just like you said.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears, and though the bite had hurt, there was something about his voice, his presence, that made you want to give in. Despite yourself, you found your body relaxing under his touch, your breath steadying as you nodded again, almost instinctively.

Sylus smiled, his lips brushing against your neck once more. “Good girl,” he whispered before trailing soft kisses along your skin, his hands firm but gentle as they held you in place.

Before you could respond, his teeth sank into your skin again, this time in a different spot. The bite was just as sharp, if not sharper, and you gasped, your back arching involuntarily as another jolt of pain shot through you. The sting was immediate, but beneath it, there was a strange thrill, an intensity that made your heart race.

Your hands gripped the sheets even tighter as he bit down harder, holding the pressure for a few seconds longer this time. Warm tears begin to pour down your face. The sensation of his teeth against your skin left you both groaning in pain and caught in something deeper, more electric. Each mark he left felt like a brand, a reminder of just how much control he had over you in this moment.

Sylus didn’t pull back right away; instead, he lingered at your neck, sucking gently at the new mark he’d made, as if savoring the taste of your skin. Your breath hitched in your throat, your body trembling beneath him, torn between the sharp sting of the bite and the warmth that followed in its wake.

When he finally released you, he trailed slow, deliberate kisses over the fresh mark, his tongue grazing your skin in a way that made your head spin. You could feel the warmth of his breath, the possessive way his hands held you in place as if daring you to protest.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. All you could do was lay there, breathless, as the intensity of it all washed over you.

Sylus looked down at you, his gaze full of smug satisfaction as he admired the new set of marks he’d left on your neck. His thumb grazed over them gently, tracing the outlines of his bites as if claiming you in some silent, unspoken way.

“You wear my marks well,” he said softly, his voice laced with amusement. “Perhaps you should challenge me more often, kitten.”

Unable to respond, you watch as his lips makes contact with yours again, gentle but devastating. Every nerve in your body sings for him at the contact, and you feel more warm tears finally slip from your eyes to drip down between your lips and his. He pulls back to look at you, wiping those tears away and sighing in pleasure at whatever expression he finds on your face. You curl your fingers in his shirt and tug him back to you, wanting to savor this, but also wanting more, so much more.

Your tongue slips past his, and your fingers tangle into the back of his hair of their own accord. He moans, honest to god moans into your mouth at the contact, and any pretense either of you may have had about this being only a kiss simply evaporates. His mouth moves more insistently against yours, hand cradling the entire side of your face, and you finally allow your hips to push forward, finding him fully hard this time.

He suddenly leans back and pulls his shirt over his head one-handed in a smooth, practiced motion. It's the hottest fucking thing you've ever seen. If you didn't know that almost certainly mind-blowing sex is soon to follow, you'd swear that there's nothing better on this earth than watching Sylus strip his own shirt off to bare that sinful chest. 

He smirks down at you, resting one hand on your hipbone and snaking the other to the waistband of his pants, but that's more than you can take right now. You hook your legs around the back of his and pull him down, desperate, and you shudder as his clothed erection is finally brought flush against your arousal. 

"Sylus, please," you whine, trusting that he knows what you're begging for. His fingers tighten and relax on your hip as if by reflex, and you can barely think straight around your need to have him inside you. 

"You're sure?" he huffs, capturing your mouth again, and you'd laugh if you weren't fit to combust from desire. 

"God, I'm sure." You don't think you've ever wanted anything more in your life, to be honest.

Sylus's lips pull up into another satisfied smirk against yours, and his fingers dig into your flesh with intent this time as he leans back again. "Maybe we should wait until you're more sober-"

"No!" you interrupt him, probably too quickly, and he quirks an eyebrow again. "Um, I mean...I'm good."

"You're good?" he asks, and fuck, it's so hard to think around this insistent, burning desire. You could sense his small hesitation and become desperate to ease his worries surrounding your state of mind.

"Yeah," you tell him again, as pointedly as you can while impatient with lust. "The nap really helped, I'm okay."

He hesitates a moment longer, and you feel like your about to combust with need.

"Sylus. I want you. All of you." You reach a hand out to cup the length of him through his pants, delighting in the narrowing in his eyes and the shudder that goes through him. A sudden thrill of confidence has you saying the filthiest thing you've ever said before you can stop yourself.

"I want you to cum inside me. Please."

You think the look in his eyes might be a little bit feral as he turns his full attention back to your body, tugging your skirt . He slips his fingers into your panties with no preamble, and he sighs appreciatively at the slick he feels there. "You've wanted this for a long time, haven't you?"

He's going to drive you insane, and when you tell him as much, his only response is to tear the garment down your legs, toss it behind him, and press two fingers inside of you. You choke and gasp his name as he grins wickedly down at you.

"Yeah, you have." He presses deeper, thumb brushing your clit, and you can't hold back a desperate cry. 

"Sylus, please-" 

"Fuck..." His eyes trail down to where his fingers are buried, and you'd be self-conscious if you had even a single brain cell to spare that isn't consumed by pleasure. "Do you know how long I've wanted this, gorgeous? The second I saw you in that costume I wanted to tear it off".

You can only gasp and buck your hips shamelessly as he continues, murmuring encouragement and looking both as smug and as charming as he ever has. This feels so good, so unreal, his slender fingers hitting all the right spots inside you while his thumb continues rubbing lazy circles outside. You can hardly believe that the same fingers your eyes have lingered on as they hold bullets or curl around a trigger - the same hands you've seen kill countless times - are now the gentle architects of your mind-numbing pleasure. 

"Come on, that's it," Sylus coos with a particularly delicious quirk of those fingers, pulling you out of hazy memories and back to what you realize is now an imminent orgasm. Your eyes drag from the stark outline of his erection against his pants, up his chest and to his face, where you catch him biting his lip in his concentration.

"Sylus-" Your hips buck against his hand as the tension coils inside you. "I'm-" 

"I know. Go head and cum kitten," he says with another devilish grin, and god, he's going to be the end of you. 

"Sylus," you gasp again, reduced to this mindless desperation as his talented fingers work you while your release hovers just out of reach. "Please, I'm-" 

He finally takes pity on you and ducks his head to seal his mouth over your clit, and fuck, what you wouldn't give for more of that, but after all this build-up, one brush of his tongue is all it takes to send you hurtling over the edge. Both of your hands fist in his hair as you shudder under him, gasping and keening, and you feel him groan against your sensitive flesh. 

Eventually, he pulls away, though it takes you several more seconds to come back to earth. When you open your eyes, it's to find him stripped down to nothing, hovering over you again with a self-satisfied expression. 

"God," you say, still not recovered, and then, because you can't help it, your eyes drop to his cock. It's as beautiful as the rest of him, rigid and straining for you. Your core throbs again as you realize that getting you off is what got him this worked up. Fuck. 

How as that possibly going to fit?

"It'll fit, don't worry" he says, as if able to read your mind. You don't even have to look at him to know that he's grinning. 

You groan and throw an arm over your eyes to resist the very real temptation to stare at Sylus's naked body for the rest of your life. You feel him move closer, dropping down onto his palms above you, and you lift your arm to watch him settle between your thighs like he's always belonged there. 

"You want to do this?" he asks softly, red eyes searching yours for one last confirmation, and you respond with a few tiny, shaky nods. He brushes his thumb across your bottom lip with a quiet sigh. "Let me hear you say it, beautiful." 

"Yes, Sylus," you plead, tears burning again at the corners of your eyes, and he hums his pleasure against your lips as he lines himself up. You inhale sharply through your teeth as you feel the first breach of his cock, holding that breath in your lungs as he slowly sinks in to the hilt. Christ, he's big. 

"Breathe, kitten" he reminds you, still disarmingly gentle, though you can see the smug satisfaction plainly on his face. He braces himself on his forearms to pepper kisses along your neck and jaw, pulling out to slowly slide back in with a deep groan.

Your hands fist in his hair, and you think you might be onto something with that when his chuckle melts into a moan. He eyes lock onto yours as he buries himself as deep as he can again, and you're taken aback by the open adoration you see on his face - you can only hope your own face is mirroring that for him. 

He slides out and in again, again, slowly falling into a steady rhythm that's better than anything you've ever felt in your life. For an endless time, there's nothing else - it's just the two of you, bodies coming together in pleasure, the occasional rougher thrust making you gasp his name as he mouths yours against your skin.

Sylus's hips suddenly still and he drops his head beside yours, heavy breaths hot against your ear. You shift underneath him, relishing the feel of his length still thick inside you but needy for him to move.

"Just need a second," he pants, sounding as wrecked as you feel. "I'm not ready to be done with you yet, sweetie." 

And oh, if your heart (and your aethercore) could explode from words alone, those would do it. The most divine human being you've ever known is lying here staving off an orgasm so that he can keep fucking you. And he just called you sweetie. 

Yeah, you're totally dead and gone. 

You lie there for a few moments, matching your breaths to his and kneading your fingers into the firm planes of his back. An appreciative groan rumbles out of him, and he pulls back to slide out of you, silencing your noise of protest with a finger to your lips and a low chuckle.

"You'll get what you want," he admonishes, grasping one of your hips to give it a slight push. "Patience, kitten" 

He leans back, and you catch a glimpse of his cock, hard against the vee of his hips and glistening with your wetness. Fuck. You shift your legs apart, and he's back on you immediately, one hand digging into the flesh of your ass and the other bracing itself next to your shoulder. 

"Good girl," Sylus breathes into your ear, and you go boneless as he sheathes himself in your slick heat once more. "Good fucking girl, taking me so well." 

You're beyond being able to respond to his filthy praise with anything other than gasps and moans, but he doesn't seem to mind, taking them as encouragement to fuck you even harder and bring your bodies flush together. When his hips snap forward, driving him deep, deeper, you swear you see stars. God, this angle is otherworldly, his cock hitting your most sensitive spot with each perfect thrust. Your hands cling desperately to his biceps, feeling those mouthwatering muscles ripple as he holds you tighter. Sylus's fingers wrap gently around your neck as his teeth nip your ear, and you cry out, feeling a familiar heat and tension begin to build within you. 

"So close again?" he growls, each breath harsh as he fucks into you. "Shit...feels so fucking good." 

Yeah, you're fucking close, if the steady stream of "yes" and "please" pouring from your lips and the almost painful way you're gripping his cock is anything to go on. You might even be sobbing now, who the fuck knows. His fingers clench against the pulse jumping in your neck, and there it is-

You glance up at him, muscles taut as he thrusts, and it's over for you, even before his eyes flick up to yours as he breathes,

"Cum for me." 

Your body shakes against him as another orgasm barrels through you, and you think you might actually scream this time, which is a shame because you're sure Sylus is saying some delectable shit to you right now. He doesn't let up, cock still pounding into you relentlessly, and when you finally come down from your high, it's to find his moans coming out broken and his thrusts rougher than ever. He's close. He's right there. You're not sure what possesses you in that moment, but you reach a hand between your bodies and close your fingers gently around his balls. Your efforts are rewarded with stuttering hips and a glorious, drawn-out groan as Sylus cums hard, his face shoved roughly into your shoulder. 

You take a moment as he pants against you, the aftershocks of your own orgasm still thrumming through you, to stare at the ceiling in disbelief that this is real life. You just had sex with Sylus. The leader of Onychinus. You're desperately in love with him and he might just feel the same about you. 

When his hips finally still and he stops panting into your skin, you begin guide his face closer to yours, relishing the way he rests his full weight on top of you without thinking, dazed as he is in his own pleasure. He pulls your face toward his to capture your lips in another blistering kiss, this one unexpectedly tender after his ferocity only moments ago, and you moan softly through it at the feel of his cock still solid inside you. 

You both catch your breath against the pillows for a few moments before he whispers that he's going to pull out, and you brace yourself for that final slide of his cock. Fuck, that should not feel as good as it does, especially considering that in the same second you have to clench your thighs to keep his release inside of you. Sylus lays on his back beside you with a sigh of contentment, and you turn carefully to lie right alongside him. You slide your hand over to his, not sure why you're feeling shy about this when you just got done being thoroughly fucked by him, but you feel relieved all the same when his fingers intertwine with yours. 

Your breaths slow as you both lie quietly in the afterglow, and after a time, he turns to face you.

"I trust it goes without saying that you're welcome to stay as long as you like," he says, brushing your hair back from your face, and all of your emotions come rushing back. You love him. You love him.

"What if I never want to leave?" you whisper, and now it's spoken, now it's out there for him to do with as he will. He studies you for a long moment, and it could just be the light of the room reflecting in those red eyes, but you think you see them glistening.

"I think that could be arranged," he finally says, his voice as full of emotion as you've ever heard it, and you feel as though you're drowning in your love for this man. You swallow past the lump in your throat and throw him as playful a smile as you can manage. 

"Well, that's good, because I feel your cum slipping out of me. Might need to put more back in there" you say, emboldened by his now obvious desire for you, but still feeling bashful as you say it. Both of his eyebrows shoot up, and he laughs, a deep, indulgent sound.

"Careful," he purrs, wrapping both arms around you like a vice. "Might get me going again."

"Plenty of time for that later," you tell him, leaning forward to bury yourself in his chest again, hoping your words carry the weight of the three specific ones you're still too embarrassed to say out loud. 

"And more," he murmurs in your ear, arms tightening around you, his words sounding an awful lot like an unspoken affirmation to your unspoken vow. 

This wasn't such a bad Halloween after all.

[writersblockiskillingme]

Peace | Coriolanus Snow

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader (fem!District12!Baird!reader)

Summary: Coriolanus Snow never thought that he would find peace, until he did.

Warning/s: Snow being in love, Snow being Snow, talk about death (reader is alive, don't worry), possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: Inspired by one and only Taylor Swift.

Our coming-of-age has come and gone

Suddenly the summer, it's clear

I never had the courage of my convictions

As long as danger is near

And it's just around the corner, darling

'Cause it lives in me

No, I could never give you peace

Coriolanus Snow could swear that the rustling of the grass beneath his shoes couldn't be louder as he walked in the Meadow.

However, even though he felt an odd irritation towards that, he felt good. He was finally able to get rid of his Peacekeeper white uniform which he replaced with a simple white shirt and some gray pants that he found. His dog tag was still hanging from around his neck. He forgot to take it off from all of the haste when he was trying to find you as fast as he possibly could once his shift ended for the day.

The wind was dancing gracefully across the leaves on the trees surrounding the always oh so peaceful Meadow just a little outside of the border of District 12.

District 12.

Coriolanus Snow was still a little bit doubtful when it came to the loser District.

He could remember his hated towards, well, everyone and everything when he found out that he was going to be deported for the Peacekeepers. He could still remember that empty feeling when he sat at, what seemed like, the most uncomfortable chair in the world as someone started to cut his blonde locks away.

He lost everything. Every hope for the better.

That is up until it was reported to him that he could chose any District in all of the Panem that he wished.

Coriolanus could've been deported to a nice, clean District like 1 or 2. Yet he chose the poorest District of all. The words "District 12" left his mouth without the second thought when the authorities asked him where he wanted to be deported. He didn't even speare one single thought as he said it.

He asked himself, why did he do it? The question wouldn't leave his mind. It haunted him every day. It clouded his ever racing mind.

Why did he do it?

Yet now, he finally spotted a figure sitting on a giant rock, playing the guitar while muttering the words as she tried to write yet another masterpiece that he was going to cherish forever.

Your hair was flowing around in the wind as your fingers graced the strings of your guitar that Coriolanus got for you from the Capitol.

He tried to stay as quiet as he possibly could. He didn't want this moment to end. He didn't want you to stop singing so he froze once he got close enough so he could listen to you for a bit.

Even the mockingjays on the trees seemed to quiet down as you played the guitar. They were soaking up every melody, every note that you decided to grace the word with.

"And it's just around the corner, darling

'Cause it lives in me"

Your melodic voice rang around the Meadow. So quiet yet so powerful. Graced with softness and pure care. He didn't deserve you. He knew that.

Suddenly nothing mattered anymore. The only thing that truly mattered was the fact that you were alive.

Every doubt he had racing, cursing, his mind vanished forevermore as he listened to you sing and play your guitar, when he saw you performing with the rest of the Covey, your family, the night after he got deported to 12.

Right now, nothing was more important to him than you. He didn't care about his deportation, about Dr. Gaul, about Highbottom.

Maybe he was clueless. Maybe it was his fault for letting himself feel vulnerable in this very moment in the Meadow outside of 12. Or maybe he was just young and dumb for finally letting his guard down... but he felt like there was hope for him at last. Because you were here. You were alive, and if he had to mess up his reputation and lose everything once more just so he could here the sweetest of melodies leaving your lips he was sure that he would do it.

"No, I could never give you peace"

But I'm a fire, and I'll keep your brittle heart warm

If your cascade ocean wave blues come

All these people think love's for show

But I would die for you in secret

The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Coriolanus felt himself freeze completely.

His brain nor his body was working anymore as he watched the screen along with the rest of his classmates that were chosen to be mentors for this year's tributes in the Hunger Games.

The scene was tough to watch. He wanted to look away yet he found himself unable to do so.

No matter how hard he tried he couldn't rip his eyes away from the screen that showed reaping the tribute he was supposed to mentor.

A girl from District 12.

He felt uneasy the moment he found out who he was supposed to be mentoring, he felt like his hope was lost. His hope for winning the Plinth Prize and repearing his reputation was ruined. He was ruined.

But now, as he watched you step in after your name was called out, he felt unfamiliar feeling of pure warmth growing and spreading in his chest, consuming him completely. The feeling was unknown, it made him feel weak. Out of control. He hated it.

Yet, as Coriolanus watched your hair bounce as you stepped out of the crowd in the middle of the square, he felt like he would fight the devil himself just so he could make sure that you were safe, that you were going to get out of the arena alive.

He watched your expression and your posture. You were trying to appear as calm and unbothered as possible. You were successful in your attempt, but he saw right through it.

Perhaps it was because he found himself in the similar position as he watched you or perhaps he simply observed a bit too closely.

Whatever it was, it did not prepare Coriolanus Snow for what was about to happen.

°

Why am I here? What am I doing?

These are the questions Coriolanus asked himself as he unintentionally, yet at the same time quite intentionally, tried to seek some warmth from his red Academy's uniform in his pathetic attempts to warm himself up a bit in the middle of a very cold night on his way over to the zoo where you were forced to stay before the games started.

The food wrapped in a handkerchief that had his father's initials on it started to feel too heavy in the pocket of his uniform.

Feeling the cold shiver run down his spine he realized that it's not from cold or from the fear of the Peacekeepers blocking his way over to you in the middle of the night. No. It was something else. Something he was aware of, but couldn't yet admit it to himself.

He watched every step he took so as to not startle you in the cage of the zoo.

As he got closer, he realized that he saw a figure in the dark leaned against the bars of the zoo's cage.

It was you, of course. You were looking up at the sky as your hair slightly flew around in the light, cold night's breeze.

At first he thought that his plan to play star-crossed lovers was a dumb call. That it was bad. Mentor falling desperately, hopelessly in love with his tribute was just madness and quite a desperate attempt to draw some good public's attention to give you a shot at surviving in the arena was quite pitiful, truly. Where was his head at, at that moment? Who would ever fall for that nonsense?

But as he saw how the people thrived for a tragic pair of star-crossed lovers and as he realized that good citizens of the Capitol loved a good tragic story, he came to a conclusion that maybe all of this was actually worth it.

More importantly, as he called out your name quietly as to not startle you and alert other tributes he figured that it was a right call after all.

Especially when, even tho a part of him didn't want to, as he came over to you on the other side of the bars, gave you food that he smuggled from the Academy, wiped your long lost tear as it streamed down your beautiful cheek, as he soked in your beauty, admired your gentil kindness and finally as he kissed you like he needs you more than an oxygen that he has to breath over the empty space in the middle of the bars, he wasn't really pretending after all.

Yet when it was time for him to go home just so his absence doesn't go noticed by grandma'am and Tigris, he asked you one thing that was bothering him, eating him alive. One thing that caused him absolute despair from the moment he met you.

"Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?" He whispered in the darkness as he held his hand against your cheek like you were the most delicate rose.

Your integrity makes me seem small

You paint dreamscapes on the wall

I talk shit with my friends

It's like I'm wasting your honor

Coriolanus Snow was hurrying towars the room in the Capitol's Academy in which he will be able to monitor the games along with some of his classmates.

He had to stay at home to help his grandma'am much longer than the would've liked. He was in such a hurry that once he got to the door he literally pushed it open with full force.

He strolled down effortlessly over to his chair so he could look over you as he heard the voice of one and only Lucky Flickerman.

"Now that is an entrance I'm jealous of."

Coriolanus ignored him.

He sat down next to Sejanus Plinth as he reasted his head on his hand as soon as he did that, the look of pure stress overflow his features as his piercing blue eyes locked themselves on the screen watching you.

"I may be wrong." He heard the voice of Sejanus Plinth as he stared at the screen, not looking away. "But it seems to me that you actually, genuinely care about whether or not she makes it out alive."

Coriolanus felt himself freeze for a moment, but he quickly forced himself to gain his composure back.

"I don't-"

"Don't lie to me, Coryo."

He kept his mouth shut after that.

And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences

Sit with you in the trenches

Give you my wild, give you a child

Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other

Family that I chose, now that I see your brother as my brother

Is it enough?

Coriolanus Snow could still remember the feeling of slight cold breeze as he hoped off of the train in 12 for the first time ever.

His boots stepped right into mud and he closed his eyes for a moment in slight annoyance. What an amazing way to alive here and do the things he was ordered to do.

He gripped more tightly just in hope to gain more confidence that he could actually pull through with this.

He stepped forward, letting out a puf of breath to steady himself.

Just as he was about to step after the rest of the new recruits as the one who is last in line he heard something that he hoped he would hear again. A voice which belonged to the person for whom he decided to go to the poorest District, paying the last bit of money he owned.

"Coryo!" Your voice shouted and he turned around slowly, almost not believing that you're here.

You ran as fast as you could just to get to him as fast as possible.

Your hair was flying around as your ran, the back of your dress dragging itself after you. The lightness of your steps, the graceful way you carried yourself, your eyes, your lips, you.

You collided against him, throwing your hands around his neck as you gripped on his shoulders as tightly as you possibly could, afraid that he will disappear from your grasp once again.

You looked so out of place. You were like a finest, most beautiful rose of all, but that rose grew in the middle of the mud. It fascinated him.

He wrapped his arms around you instantly, gripping your body strongly yet at the same time gently as he brought you to his body even closer. You felt like if he pulled you any closer the two of you would become one person.

He hid his face into your neck, breathing in your flowery scent. It smelled like home. Home which he was forcefully ripped away from, but now he was finally able to return.

"How did you-? What-?" He stuttered, couldn't get the words out.

"Tigris told me you were about to become a Peacekeeper." You got out, still holding onto his arm, your gripp still tight, afraid of losing him again. "However, Sejanus told me that you would arrive to 12."

This took him a back a little.

"You spoke with Tigris?" He asked, his voice not hiding his utter, but non the less happy, shock.

"We wrote to each other." You answered with a smile. "She's amazing, truly."

He couldn't be happier at this moment, he was so happy that it scared him.

But maybe, as he watched your smile and took your hand into his, pressing your palms against each other, he realized that just maybe life in the poorest District won't be as bad as he was afraid.

But there's robbers to the east, clowns to the west

I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best

But the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me

One thing was for sure, life after the games was not easy.

You would have nightmares. He didn't know about them, you wouldn't told him. That is up until the rest of your family met up with him on a picnic day.

You looked so tired, so pale, you weren't acting like your usual self. It scared him.

That's when Lucy Gray pulled him aside after she saw his worried gaze on you the entire day. What she told him ripped his heart and shattered every piece.

"She's screaming at night." Lucy Gray whispered just so you wouldn't catch them, not that you could, you were so tired you were barely awake. "She has nightmares about the arena."

When he later on confronted you about your nightmares just so he could help you somehow you broke down.

You told him that maybe it wasn't the best idea for him to be with her. You were sad a lot more often, the screaming because of nightmares and everything else haunted you.

Before you could say anything else, tho. He kissed you like he would die without you.

"You're safe with me." He mumbled against your lips. "We can have a future here together, that is if you will have me."

"Of course I will Coryo, but-"

"No but's, then, my love." He told you, taking the handkerchief out of nowhere as he wiped away your tears that continued to stream down your face.

"Here, away from every harm, away from the games... maybe I could finally give you peace."

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

->

->

->

TAGLIST:

@hellonheels-x @especiallythewomenandthechildren @prettyinsatiable @caroline-books @runningfrom2am @10ava01 @thecrowdedstreetin1944

[drunk-person]

Burned by you (One Shot)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: After a few months of marriage, the reader tries to see in her always well-composed and taciturn husband the frightening dragon that she was told to fear before the wedding, but without success. Until one afternoon a small incident pushes Aemond over the edge and she realizes her wish to wake the dragon.

WARNING: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, fingering, possessive and jealousy sex, dom/sub tones if you squint, mentions of murder, no description for reader.

Word cont: 1.900 k

Author's note: Hi, this is my first one short published, I've written others, but I never posted them and this one was written this afternoon and I thought "why not?". I usually write better than this, but this was a jumbled part of my mind that I finally decided to share, hope someone likes it. English is not my first language so be kind if you can.

Aemond's stoic manner almost always disturbed his young wife. No matter how much she saw the fire cross her eye, it never burned what was around her. Except in the training yard, she never saw him out of composure, and sometimes not even in the training yard he lost his composure. His hair was always well-groomed, his clothes were well-adjusted and his gaze was always calculated. She got tired. She wanted to see the beast she knew was underneath. She wanted the fire that shone every now and then in his eyes to consume her. She wanted to be burned by the dragon. So she did what she could do best, teased him to death.

She smiled everywhere in the way she knew Aemond didn't like her to do. She walked through the courtyards in her dresses considered most revealing. She would even grant a dance or two to some braggart Lord, but he remained just as stoic. The day she gave Prince Jacaerys a dance she thought she saw his eyes sparkle, but soon he was talking to his sister and she lost sight of his eyes.

Y/n she got tired of that game in which she was visibly losing. She was resigned to knowing that she would never see the dragon she had been warned about when she got married. She was walking calmly through the gardens while thinking when she felt the heel of the boot she was wearing give way on her. And with a gasp she almost fell face first onto the grass in front, but before that, a rough hand caught her.

— Is my princess okay? — The young gardener asked helpfully.

— My shoe broke. — She said while leaning on the boy who must have been a few years older than her.

— Here, let me help. — The gardener placed her hand on his shoulder and crouched close to the ground while removing the shoe from Y/n's foot, who didn't even notice the compromising position in which she found herself with the boy practically between her legs.

Suddenly came the cold and menacing voice from her back, causing every hair on her body to stand on end.

— Wife. — She immediately turned back, stepping with her bare foot on the grass, while the gardener released her and practically fell into a sitting position on the garden lawn. Aemond's eyes were on fire, her jaw was clenched and her body was tense like a rope stretched to its limit.

— Husband, nothing happened. — She tried to explain quickly. — My shoe broke and got stuck on the lawn, he was just…

— Quiet. — Aemond hissed harshly.

— But husband...

— I said to keep quiet. — He spoke with a firm voice as he approached them both.

He guided his hand to her neck and caressed it gently as he closed one of his hands and squeezed it, but not enough to hurt. Y/n looked him in the eyes, scared and without moving a single muscle.

— Go to our chambers and wait for me there. — He practically spat out the words as he released her neck without any delicacy.

Y/n didn't question him anymore, she just turned her back and ran barefoot towards their shared chambers without even looking at the gardener, who was still lying on the grass.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

She walked around the room without even being able to breathe. What would happen? What was her husband thinking now? Where he was? It seemed like hours had passed since the garden. And then without warning the door opened and she immediately turned towards it, but the sight that came was of something completely unheard of.

Aemond walked through the door with her hands, her face and her own clothes covered in blood, a frightening look on her face. Her steps were stiff as he slowly walked towards her.

— Husband, what happened? — She asked worried, but unable to move towards him.

— Do you want to know what happened? What did I have to do? — He asked angrily when he finally approached her and held her jaw firmly in his right hand, squeezing it tightly. — I made that filthy gardener fight me.

Y/n’s heart sank for the poor guy. She knew that no one in the royal guard was a match for Aemond, a young gardener would never be. But why was it covered in blood?

— And when I beat him without any major complications. — He paused before concluding in an even more cruel voice. — I beheaded him myself.

Y/n brought her hands to her lips as she imagined the brutal scene in front of her.

— Sad for your loving wife? — He practically shouted as he pulled her hair back forcing her to look into his eyes. Y/n quickly shook her head in visible despair.

— He was not my lover. I swear husband! He was just taking my shoe off the grass. — She whimpered as Aemond pulled even more of her hair.

— I may have only one eye but I'm not blind, wife. — He growled, looking into her eyes. — That man didn't look at you as someone who just wanted to help you with a shoe.— Husband... — She tried speak, but Aemond slapped her.

— I tried to treat you the best I could, but if you want to act like a common whore, then I'll treat you like a common whore. — Aemond pulled out his dagger and Y/n's eyes widened, he then used it to tear the entire dress she was wearing, ripping it off her in moments, leaving only her undershirt, which he tore with his own hands, making Y/n gasp.

Aemond bent her over the table and before Y/n could understand anything, she felt a new slap on her ass and let out a scream of surprise. Without warning, Aemond violently separated her ass cheeks, making her feel exposed, her whole body seemed to burn with shame. She felt herself heat up even more as she heard her husband laugh evilly and felt his breath against her wet folds.

— A real little whore. — He inserted two fingers at once into her intimacy, making her squirm. — Wet and anxious while waiting to be fucked.

She moaned outrageously as she felt his fingers fucking her without mercy. Her body was lying on the table and while he was fucking her with one hand, Aemond held her firmly by the neck, keeping her in the same position. She felt that the air was running out of her and the pressure in her belly was almost unbearable, and when her husband removed his hand from her neck and took it to the top of her thighs, violently pinching her pearl, she screamed with pleasure and pain as she came against Aemond's hands, who didn't stop his movements for even a second.

The Excessive Stimulation was making her go crazy. Aemond, without caring, slapped her on the buttock, making her grip the table tightly, the slap was followed by another, and another, and another, until Y/n was reduced to a crying and desperate mess.

— Husband. — She begged, babbling and drooling on the table top. - Please…

Aemond just laughed and bit her shoulder firmly, as he penetrated her all at once with his length, she whimpered even more at the sudden intrusion. And without waiting for her to get used to it like he always did, he started fucking her violently. Aemond took his hands to her hair, entangling his hands there and pulling her head back making her face their reflection in the mirror.

The Vision made Y/n moan even more, she was completely naked and Aemond was clothed. His hair was messy and scattered everywhere, his clothes were a mess, his face and part of his skin were covered in blood, and his look... oh, his look looked like that of a mad man. The flame that was there could burn the entire room, and it was certainly burning her.

— I should have fucked you in front of that bastard before I ripped his head off. — Aemond growled in her ear as he fucked her even harder and Y/n cried uncontrollably amid moans and panting. — Maybe I'll ask them to bring his head and hang it in our room so he can watch as I fuck you every night in the seven fucking hells. — Y/n let out a scream when she heard him say those things. The hand that squeezed her waist did so with such force that it hurt, as he went deeper and deeper into her.

— You have to know, wife. — He practically growled as he bit her neck violently. — That you are mine, if I see you dancing with that bastard Strong again I will make sure that an accident occurs and he falls from one of the towers. — He slapped her hard on the ass when he said that.

— If any of these servants touch your skin again, I will rip their head off in front of you. — He gave a strong thrust inside her as he stared at her in the mirror with his eyes burning. — I will kill anyone who dares to come close to what is mine. — He hissed in an almost venomous way as he squeezed her breasts firmly and Y/n felt her whole body shake with the uncontrolled pleasure that erupted through her body.

— Say my name, say the name of the owner of this pussy and this body. — Aemond grunted, slapping her pearl sharply and Y/n saw stars. She came screaming his name at the top of her lungs to anyone who would listen.

— Whore. — Aemond moaned in her ear as he continued fucking her. — Filthy whore. — He bit her ear as she cried amidst her orgasm. — My little whore.

— Yours. — She cried, rubbing herself against him uncontrollably, even with the pain of overstimulation. — You whore, only yours.

And Aemond came deep inside her with a moan that sounded like a growl as he bit and sucked on her neck.

— Never do that again, wife, or I guarantee you I won't be so indolent. — Her husband's breathless voice sounded against her neck.She nodded weakly and with no more strength in her body, she collapsed onto the table again.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

The sun was high in the sky when Y/n woke up the next day, still naked as on her name day, alone in bed and with all her painful limbs. Aemond, as always, had left very early, and she got up from the bed with difficulty, feeling her legs wobble like she hadn't felt since her first night with her husband.

She walked slowly to the mirror and sighed at the image before her, bruises of all colors covered her body, neck, thighs, hips, waist, ass, breasts. All covered in Aemond's handprints or her bite marks.

She smiled mischievously as she watched herself and lightly bit her lower lip as she remembered the other night. She barely noticed the door opening, and only looked up when she heard it close. Through her mirror her gaze met Aemond's and she could see his eyes burning like fire as he addressed her.

She had awakened the dragon, and now there would be no turning back.

[srslyblvck]

so wrong, james potter

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

synopsis: You were a Slytherin, and he was a Gryffindor. Both of you despised each other—so why were you making out with the one person you hated the most?

warning: kissing, making out, suggestive content (?)

word count: 0.5k

author's note: this might be the closest thing i will come to writing smut lol

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ YOU WERE A SLYTHERIN, he was a Gryffindor. You were a pureblood, part of the Sacred 28—he was a blood traitor. You had been raised to despise everything he stood for: recklessness, rebellion, and that stupid, insufferable smile. You were elegant, poised, and always in control. Him? He was a mess—untidy hair that he ran his fingers through every few minutes, his shirt perpetually untucked, his shoes scuffed.

There were lists of differences between you two. Endless, insurmountable divides. But none of that mattered in this moment.

Because here you were, making out with James Potter in the Room of Requirement. Hands tangled in each other's hair, bodies glued together as if the space between you were the most unnatural thing in the world. You couldn’t remember how you ended up like this, with your back pressed against a wall, the dim light flickering around you, the scent of him—fresh grass and something undeniably him—filling your senses.

Neither of you said anything. There was no need for words, just the raw, burning tension that had been building for so long. His hands roamed over your body, fingers brushing across the thin fabric of your shirt, tracing the line of your waist, pulling you closer. You wanted to hate it. You should hate it. But you didn’t.

You hated James Potter. Hated the way his glasses always slid down the bridge of his nose, and how he’d push them back up with a lazy flick of his finger, as if nothing in the world could rattle him. You hated the way his hazel eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, as though everything was just a grand joke to him. You hated how he made everyone adore him without even trying, his stupid confidence spilling out in every careless gesture.

But more than anything, you hated how, right now, none of that mattered. How none of your disdain or hatred or carefully constructed barriers seemed to stop you from wanting him like this.

James' lips were on your neck now, trailing soft, deliberate kisses that sent heat rushing through your veins. His breath was warm against your skin, his hands firm as they slid up your back, anchoring you to him. A gasp escaped your lips, betraying the storm inside you. Your fingers tangled in his unruly hair, tugging him closer even as your mind screamed at you to stop.

But Merlin, it felt so good. His lips, his hands, the way his body pressed against yours, every movement speaking a language you didn’t want to understand but couldn’t resist.

His lips finally found yours again, and this time, it was desperate. His glasses were askew, but you didn’t care. Not anymore. All you could focus on was the way he kissed you—like you were the only thing that existed, like the years of rivalry and disdain had all led to this. To the heat between you, to the way his tongue danced against yours, to the way your body melted into his, craving more.

You hated him, truly. But in this moment, you hated yourself more for how badly you didn’t want to stop.

And it was so, so wrong.

[existentialgaybirdnerd]

Ghost who was always in nature as a kid, always hiding in bushes, climbing trees, shoving his hands deep in dirt and grass, finding bugs and relocating them if they're in a bad spot.

Ghost, always surrounded by animals and foliage, can trek through even the thickest forests and highest grasses as an adult, and never loses himself or his direction.

The dirt getting under his fingernails disturbs him after Roba, and he feels sad about that fact because the dirt used to be his getaway when his dad was being too loud and angry, and now he's lost that.

Ghost, who goes outside when he's overwhelmed, who tries to touch leaves and flowers and grass as often as possible so he can feel himself again when he's angry.

Ghost, who gives flowers and pretty leaves and sticks shaped like weird things to his friends and teammates, who will grab a bug or a spider without batting an eye when others have a phobia of them, not killing them because they're important.

Simon, who likes to take off his mask when it's raining or snowing and stand there and let it hit his face and his hair.

Simon, who slow dances in the rain with Johnny after they get together, mud caking his pants and shoes off so he can feel it, not letting it bother him because his two favorite things are being combined and he's having the time of his life with the love of his life in his arms and giggling because they're just so happy. Who tackles Johnny into the mud when he makes a teasing comment and rests in it on his back when they're done wrestling and laughing, pulling Johnny onto him from where they both lay and getting soft and sweet kisses as the rain pelts his face but doesn't bother him at all.

Simon, who loves so deeply and reverently, that it feels like a hurricane to him and a sea breeze to anyone he loves and cares for. Who embodies nature so deeply he can only be compared to the forces surrounding them and loved like only nature can be but so much more accessible and so much easier to give love back.

[p0orbaby]

Our Little Secret

summary: secrets are meant to told eventually, right?

warnings: none! well maybe a little suggestive but nothing major I swear

a/n: less would so keep stuff like this to herself

word count: 1.6k

-

The sun seemed to follow you everywhere you went these days. Not even the heaviest of rain or the strongest of storms could dampen your mood. You found selfish solace in the way the world appeared to conspire in your favor.

In the midst of your bliss, you couldn’t help but feel that the universe had, in some inexplicable way, aligned the stars just for you and Alessia. Whatever hurdle or bump in the road you’d gone through together now long forgotten. Every fight or falling out had been transformed into a stepping stone, leading you both closer than you ever thought possible.

The two of you had been in a bubble for weeks. During which time felt like a mere concept. Each day jumping into the next as if the world outside didn’t exist. And it didn’t, not really. Not even when the car came to a rolling stop outside your home for the next several days.

Before you even got the chance to unbuckle your seatbelt, Alessia was up and striding around to your side of the car, opening the door for you.

You’d never get used to the way she looks at you. As if you yourself had hung the moon and the stars and sewed the Milky Way all for her. Perhaps you were biased. But in her eyes you were the center of her universe, and it made you feel like the luckiest girl on earth.

Without even a second thought, you reached out and grabbed her hand, intertwining your fingers with your own. Thanking her with a kiss as she closed the door behind you.

It was then that you both went through the motions, just as you’d done so many times before. The routine of your arrival was a dance of shared chores, both of you seamlessly moving around each other, the perfect team.

With a comfortable synchronicity, she fetched your bags from the car, whilst you grabbed her coat headed up the steps to be greeted by the staff of St. George’s.

“Looking good, Y/L/N” one of the social media team commented from behind the camera, sticking out a fist for you to bump when you passed.

“Looking good, feeling good” you respond with a wink to the camera, catching the fist bump with practiced ease. “You alright over there Less?” You then shout over your shoulder.

Alessia’s voice carried a cheerful tone as she responded, “Never been better!” She playfully saluted the social media team member with a grin, wrestling the bags up the small flight of steps.

“See folks, chivalry isn’t dead” you spoke into the lense one last time before heading inside and towards the lift.

-

You were late to warm ups.

Not by much, mind. But late nonetheless.

It’s Alessia's fault for looking so good. With her low bun and her cargos and her roaming hands. How you could not pull her collar first into your room and kiss her lips swollen and whisper promises of more later as a reward for her hard work on the grass.

Pointed looks came your way when you entered the gym. Fingertips brushing the others as you walked side by side towards the raised eyebrows and sly grins.

“Finally decided to join us then?” Ella remarked from her spot stretching on the mats.

You prod her with the toe of your shoe when you were close enough. “So nice to see you too, Tooney”, you teased, plopping down next to her on the floor.

“Miss me yet?” She asks. Alluding to the fact that Alessia's move down south triggered your move from United also. Slightly unconventional, but the stars aligned and the offer of a new club was too good to turn down.

“What? Do I miss your obnoxiously loud shower singing and the fact we never got any privacy? Hard call”

“Less, tell your girlfriend to stop bullying me” Ella whines.

Alessia catches your eye at Ella’s words, amusement swimming in her baby blues.

“She’s fine” she shuts down, earning a groan from her best friend. “Want me to sort your hair, babe?” Already lowering herself to kneel behind you.

“Do you guys even know how to function separately anymore?” Ella asks.

You pretended to ponder the question, sharing a mischievous look with Alessia. “Function separately? I’m not quite sure I understand what you mean”

A chorus of playful groans filled the air and you leaned back against Alessia as she finished securing your hair, her fingers tracing comforting patterns on the exposed skin of your neck.

-

Being a public figure meant that you had become quite attuned to the prying eyes of others.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and your shoulders naturally find themselves shooting upwards as a form of anxious protection.

You turn around when you hear the scrape of boots behind you.

“Jesus, Mary. Why they hell are you sneaking around like that? You creeper”

“You’re hiding something”

Her words hung in the air, and the changing room seemed to shrink as her focus intensified on you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you scramble. Turning back around to busy yourself with organising your already spotless cubby.

Mary, undeterred, took a step closer. “Come on, Y/N. I’ve known you long enough to recognise when something’s up. Spill it”

Your shoulders tensed as you continued to feign ignorance. “Seriously, Mary, it’s just pre-game jitters. Nothing more, nothing less”

Mary arched an eyebrow, her skepticism clear as day and it makes you want to run for the hills. “Pre-game jitters? Since when do you get pre-game jitters?”

A nervous laugh escaped your lips. “Well, you know, we need the points. I’m getting nervous we won’t qualify”

“Nerves don’t explain why you and Alessia have been acting weirdly happy lately. What gives?”

You glanced at her, head spinning at attempting to keep up the facade as she changes tack.

“We-“ you start, deciding that if Mary could switch things up, you could too. So clearing your throat, you carry on, “we had a good morning. We weren’t late down for nothing”

Mary wasn’t stupid. It took her mere seconds to figure out what you meant and you smirked at the way her face twisted in disgust.

Her eyes widened, her initial amusement giving way to mock horror. “God, please spare me the details, Y/N. I didn’t sign up for the morning-after report”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Mary’s exaggerated reaction. “You asked! I’m just giving you an answer. It’s not my fault you decided to be nosey”

Mary shook her head in disbelief she’d walked into a situation like this, “Alright, alright! Way too much information there”

“You think?” You question. “I’m sure I can talk Less into letting me give you a play by play. I’m very convincing”

“Nope, stop! That’s enough,” Mary exclaimed, holding up her hands in a mock surrender.

-

The evening at camp unfolded with a relaxed rhythm as the team gathered for dinner. The aroma of the meal filled the cafeteria, and the mood was light-hearted, with conversations bouncing off the walls and laughter creating a steady hum across the room.

Alessia sat to your left, a hand of yours resting on her thigh under the table. Whilst she slung an arm over the back of your chair as she made conversation with Hempo who was sat on the other side of her.

It gives you time to reflect. To savour the moment you find yourself in. Here, doing the job you love, with the people you care so much about. It’s a privilege you’re grateful to hold.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, hey Kei” you say, startled out of your own mind for a second.

“You okay? You seem distracted”

You are, a little. But in a good way.

“All good. Just happy you know, to be here”. Keira looks at you with a fond smile. She understands, you knew she would. “If I tell you something, can you promise not to tell the others? Not yet, anyway”

She nods, unperturbed at your request.

“Me and Less got engaged a couple weekends back” you hum, bringing your glass of water to your lips. “It’s why we’ve been acting a little different”

Keira raises an eyebrow, a knowing look covering her face. “Engaged, huh? Took you two long enough”. You blink at how unsurprising this information seems to her, and she chuckles. “Come on, Y/N. I can read the signs. I’m surprised no one else has caught on yet. Congratulations, though. About time you made it official”

Relieved, you share a laugh. “You knew?”

“Please, I have eyes. But hey, I’m happy for you two. Just don’t expect me to be all teary-eyed when you break the news to the the rest of them”

You instinctively squeeze Alessia’s leg. She smoothed the pad of her thumb over your neck in response.

“Who popped the question then?” Keira asks. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, the action making your interactions slightly. Something you’d thank her for another time.

“She did. Wine and cheese night” you chuckle.

Keira types something on her phone, still maintaining her laid-back demeanor. “Classic”

You chuckle. “Yeah, I thought so”

She glances up from her phone with a smirk. “Well, spill the plans. When are you making the big announcement?”

“After camp,” you reply, your gaze briefly meeting Alessia’s. “We wanted some time to ourselves first”

Keira nods approvingly. “Smart move. You both deserve the privacy. But when it’s out, get ready for chaos”

You raise your glass in agreement. “Oh, we’re expecting chaos, but the good kind”

Keira smirks. “The best kind. Well, cheers to you two. I’ll keep the lid on this until you’re ready. I promise”

Then she’s standing, tucking her phone back away, squeezing your shoulder as she leans down to whisper something into Alessia’s ear. Your fiancés attention now taken away from Lauren.

You know what Keira has said by the way Alessia looks at you. Her blue eyes sparkling and her lips tugging into a small smile as you shrug.

One person won’t hurt.

[ladyloveandjustice]

Running the Gauntlet: A Natsume Yuujinchou fanfic (Part 1)

Part 1 of my fanfic based on the idea I had in this post about Natsume's running abilities making his life at school difficult that blew up.

Includes a couple silly footnotes!

Running the Gauntlet

“I wish Natsume wasn’t our anchor,” a classmate complained.

Natsume flinched. It’s not like I wanted to be, he thought glumly. He pretended he hadn’t heard, hunching over and tying this shoe. So many students and teachers milling around on the grass, waiting for the big event, whoever it was probably hadn’t noticed he was nearby.

But then, Nishimura’s response made him feel even worse.

“Man, shut up. You haven’t really seen Natsume run. He’s friggin’ fast. We’re lucky to have him.”

Natsume appreciated Nishimura standing up for him, but inwardly he was screaming at him to please stop talking about this.

Then Kitamoto chimed in, “Yeah, one of the first times we saw him outside of school, he basically dashed out of the woods at warp speed. So don’t be rude.”

He saw Kitamoto glance quickly at him, clearly aware might be in earshot.

“Fast? Come on you two, I know he’s your friend, but the guy is sickly. You’re expecting me to believe someone who collapses every other day is a good runner? I’m not saying he’s a bad guy, I’m just not counting on him to win this”. The classmate, who rarely spoke to Natsume, adjusted his glasses.

“You’ll see,” Nishimura said smugly.

Natsume groaned inwardly, straightening up.

He eyed the various students hanging out in different colored headbands, the boy handing out water bottles from the tent, and some teachers talking off to the side.  There was even a chattering crowd on the small set of bleachers. A crowd that included parents.

But worst of all was the looping black track, sizzling in the sun before him. He, Nishimura, and the rest who’d been chosen for the relay race would be lining up on it soon.

He hated Sports Day.

To be fair, this was his least hated sports day so far. He’d never actually experienced sports day while having friends before. When he was a kid, he could expect being pushed to the ground and mocked, or having classmates complaining loudly to teachers about being paired up with the liar. Best case scenario was he’d merely have to feel lonely as he was left out of class celebrations, watching parents and friends cheer others on when there was no one to cheer for him.

But this year he’d been able to cheer wildly for Taki during the bean bag toss, laugh at Tanuma as he was forced to dance awkwardly with the rest of his class during their group performance, and smile as Tanuma got some sweet revenge by beating him at the scavenger hunt. He’d gotten to high five Kitamoto and Nishimura after every victory, and even Sasada once.

So many parents being here was still a little intimidating, though. He kept expecting one of them to yell at him to get away from their kid, even though he knew it wasn’t like that anymore. The Fujiwaras hadn’t been able to come, as they had a relative’s wedding to attend today. Natsume hadn’t even told them today was sports day, because he didn’t want them to feel bad about it. He was also kind of relieved they couldn’t come, because he would have been even more nervous if they were watching.

Overall, it had been a good day. He was basically enjoying himself.

But there was no getting over the dread of his biggest obstacle yet—the relay race. He was really going to have to pay attention to his running. It was such a tough balance…he didn’t want to let down the class, but he also needed to think of…

“Natsume, are you okay?” He blinked, noticing Sasada was suddenly next to him. “You were spacing out a bit.”

“I’m fine! Actually, are you okay?” She looked pale, and she kept fiddling with her glasses. It was strange to see her without the usual air of confidence.

“I’m nervous,” she admitted. She’d been chosen for the relay race too, and was looking at the track with almost as much trepidation as he was.

“Sasada! Natsume!”  Nishimura ran forward before Natsume could reassure her. “It’s all up to us!”

“Yay,” Sasada said blandly.

“Whar’a wrong, Sasada?” Nishimura grinned smugly at her “Worried you’re gonna be the sports day cliché?”

“The…what?”

“You’ve seen it on TV, right? In anime and stuff? There’s always the one person who trips during the relay race. They scramble to their feet, tears in their eyes, and pass off their baton…” Nishimura imitated the gesture dramatically. “But don’t worry! You can trip all you want, I’m so fast it won’t matter! No need to be nervous!”

Sasada shook her head, putting her glasses back on. “You know what, your stupidity has calmed my nerves a bit, thank you,”

“Glad to be of service.”

---

Considering all that, Natsume wasn’t exactly surprised when Nishimura was the one who tripped.

Natsume winced when his friend went down, hoping he wasn’t hurt. It would be okay, right? Nishimura was so good-humored. This wasn’t a big deal or anything. He’d just laugh it off and…

Nishimura stumbled up, his knee bleeding, his face burning with shame. Natsume could see his eyes were brimming with tears. Of course he was devastated. Nishimura may act carefree, but he hated letting people down.

Natsume sighed.

Fine then.

“Nishimura!” He called out, offering his hand. “Don’t give up! I’ve got this!”

Nishimura’s face lit up instantly. He jogged as fast as he could and slammed the baton in Natsume’s hand. Natsume faced forward. The others had a massive head start, but that wasn’t enough to make him give up.

A yokai is chasing me, he told himself. A big one with sharp teeth.

And next thing he knew, he was crossing the finish line.

Cheers exploded around him as the other runners caught up, lagging after him. And then, suddenly, what seemed to be the entire class was rushing towards him. He had to resist the urge to put his hands up defensively.

Nishimura slammed into him from the side, embracing him. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and he was whooping and laughing. Heat spread up Natsume’s neck and face. It was the first time Nishimura had ever hugged him. Or cried so openly in front of him. He knew it was considered fine for guys to cry and hug only when it involved sports for some reason, but it was still a surprise.  He wasn’t used to that kind of intimacy. Not that it was bad. It was kind of nice.

 The rest of his class gathered around him, yelling things like “way to go” and “that was amazing!” Even Sasada, her face still red and sweaty from her run, was screaming her head off and jumping up and down. Kitamoto clapped Natsume on the back and soon several classmates followed suit. Natsume was sure a red handprint was permanently etched on his back now.

“Dude, I knew you were fast, but I didn’t know you were that fast!!” Nishimura yelled through his tears.

“Seriously, do you have a secret running regimen I don’t know about, or is it just natural talent?” Kitamoto said.

Natsume heard some more cheering explode behind him, and looked over his shoulder to see an uncharacteristically excited Tanuma waving at him from the other side of the track, “Congrats, Natsume!”

“Tanuma, you could at least… pretend to care… that our class lost,” said the boy Natsume had gone up against, still doubled over and panting.

“Sorry.”

There was loud whistle from the stands and Natsume saw it came from Taki. The girl next to her had covered her ears. Taki didn’t notice, and let out another impressively strong blast, waving at him. She removed her knuckles from her mouth and shouted “Woo, Natsume!”

Natsume was torn between being happy his friends supported him and so embarrassed he could die.

“I owe you an apology, Natsume,” said the boy with the glasses, whoever he was.

“Hell yeah you do!” Nishimura responded.

“Nishimura…” Kitamoto’s said scoldingly, his eyes flicking to Sasada.

“Ah…I’m sorry too, Sasada,” Nishimura said sincerely. “You really showed me.” (Sasada had been fast enough to give Nishimura a head start, as Natsume suspected she would be, she’d certainly caught up to him out of nowhere plenty of times in the early days of their relationship).

Sasada wasn’t listening, she was looking at a fit girl with short black hair from another class, who was also still panting from the race. “How about that, Chiyo!” she called over to her.

“You win this one, but I’ll get you next time, Jun! Just you wait!” Chiyo called with a matching huge grin and an excited look in her eyes. For some reason Sasada blushed delicately in response*.

“Okay, okay, give him some room to breathe,” Kitamoto said, shooing at the others. They all stepped back, though Nishimura remained by Natsume’s side. Natsume was grateful for Kitamoto, he was dizzy and overwhelmed. He’d had no idea races like this were such a big deal to people. He was more grateful than ever the Fujiwaras weren’t here to add on to all this.

“Look Natsume!” Sasada had finally torn her eyes away from the other girl and was pointing at the stands. “Even the track coach looks impressed!”

“No wonder, you’re faster than half her team,” Kitamoto said. “Bet she tries to recruit you!”

Natsume’s stomach dropped like a stone. Indeed, the track coach, a woman with short brown hair and sharp eyes, was looking at him with interest. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of. His personal hell had returned. Had winning a measly race been worth it?

Natsume looked over at Nishimura, who was still jumping up and down and hollering about how he was going to treat Kitamoto, Sasada and Natsume to some manju, not even minding when Kitamoto snarked at him about it how it must be a cold day in hell if the man who sponged off everyone was paying the tab for once. He flashed Natsume another ecstatic grin, and Natsume smiled back.

Yeah, it had been worth it.

--

Natsume had experienced a lot of reoccurring horrors, but the most annoying of them was being hounded by track coaches at every school he went to.

Apparently, spending most of his life running from yokai had made him faster than the average person. He’d been unaware of this until his first year of middle school. When it came time to run the track, Natsume had heard whispers around him, a couple of the kids placing bets on when he’d collapse. One boy had even smacked him on the shoulder and screamed “The liar’s gonna come in dead last!” in his ear.

Natsume hadn’t really done much racing against other kids on the playground, and he’d been sick during a lot of gym classes, so he’d also figured he’d struggle against the other kids. It had completely shocked everyone, himself included, when he blew past them all with ease. He’d reached the finish line only to find the other kids several feet behind him, panting and gawking.

The gym teacher’s eyes had gone wide, and he’d immediately started urging Natsume to join the track club. The man had even gone to Natsume’s current guardians about it.

His guardians had resented that he was getting attention while their real kid was an overlooked benchwarmer on the baseball team. They’d thrown lots of snide comments Natsume’s way. And…well, he hadn’t had a good time on the track team at all. When he’d inevitably had to move again after those same guardians got tired of him, leaving the track club behind had been the silver lining.

Upon transferring to a new school, he’d decided to keep his speed under wraps. But then a coach noticed him running when he was late for class one day and his troubles started all over again. At first he’d avoided the coach by coming up with excuses about responsibilities or detention or headaches, but eventually he was just reduced to hiding under the bleachers when he saw the man.

At another school, a coach tried to recruit him for her team SO aggressively he’d made the stupid mistake of running away when he saw her—and naturally, seeing how fast he could book it had just increased her interest.

So, when he was gathering up all the extra water bottles from the hydration station tent at end of the day, and saw the track coach approach him, his heart started pounding, He fought back his urge to bolt, even a flashbacks filled his brain.

“Natsume, right? I’m Sakuragi, if you don’t remember,” The woman had a wide, genuine smile. He’d only spoken to her a few times, but he was pretty sure she was Taki’s homeroom teacher. “You showed some impressive hustle today! Have you ever thought of joining the track team?”

Fortunately, Natsume had his excuses pre-prepared. “Oh wow, that’s such an honor, Sensei!” He said, continuing to gather up the water bottles while still maintaining polite eye contact. “But, you see, I get sick very easily, so joining a team is a bad idea. I’d just end up being absent a lot, and I’d let the team down.”

“That’s not a problem.” To his horror, the teacher bent down and started picking up the water bottles herself.

“You don’t have to trouble yourself—” He began quickly, but she cut him off, saying “ I’d never require you to come in when you’re not feeling well. You wouldn’t need to worry about calling out sick. We’re a fairly large team, so other students can easily sub in for you if you can’t make a race.”

What kind of laid back track team was this? Never mind, Natsume had a backup excuse. “Well, that’s great, but I’m also concerned about making trouble for my foster parents. It’s a lot to ask them, and I don’t want to put them out. I’d be around to help them less. They’d have to pay for expenses, like when overnight trips at the inn when we go to other towns, or shoes—”

“The school supplies the shoes and other essentials, and we can cover trip expenses if need be. Also, I chat with Ms. Fujiwara at the grocery store often, and she loves bragging about you. I can’t see her turning down a chance for you to develop your skills and enjoy some team spirit!”

Natsume looked down at his shoes, sure that he was tomato red right now. Touko bragged about him? What did he even do worth bragging about? “He only missed ten days of class this month”? “His grades were perfectly mediocre again”? “He hasn’t come home covered in dirt in a while”? “He made five whole friends in school, somehow?”*

Still, through his embarrassment, he felt a little warm inside. She was proud of him. It was a still a new feeling, and he wasn’t sure what to do with this strange, shy happiness.

“Natsume?” The coach’s voice snapped him back to reality. “Is there anything else bothering you, or would you like to come do a practice session with us? If you don’t like it, you don’t have to join. I’ll respect your decision.”

“I…” Natsume was searching for another excuse.  

 Nishimura jogged up. “Natsume, do you need any—" He noticed who Natsume was talking to and his eyes widened. “Oh, sorry to interrupt, Sensei! Natsume, are you being recruited? That’s so cool!”

“Ah, you were his teammate today, right?” Sakuragi smiled at Nishimura kindly.

Nishimura flushed a bit, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, Natsume really saved me out there. He’s a dependable guy! And he’s a great runner!”

Nishimura flashed a grin at Natsume, who was wishing he had telepathy so he could tell him to stop. He tried to send a signal by shaking his head slightly, but Nishimura wasn’t looking now.

“Well, that definitely sounds like track team material,” Sakuragi said jovially. She turned to Natsume. “Looks like your friends vouch for you. But it’s up to you, Natsume. Would you mind just stopping by?”

Natsume couldn’t bring himself to directly say no to a teacher in the first place, and now Nishimura and his enthusiasm had been added to the mix. “I’ll give it a try,” he mumbled, forcing a smile.

“Great! Just come to the track after school tomorrow. I think you’ll find it’s a lot more fun than you’re thinking.”

Natsume kept the smile fixed on as they carried the water bottles back into school. When the coach departed and they came ouside again, he and Nishimura met Taki and Tanuma. As always, Nishimura immediately started blushing and fidgeting , but as always, Taki failed to notice.

“I saw you with Sakuragi-sensei!” she said with a smile. “Impressing her is a big feat, Natsume! And don’t worry, she’s really nice.” She put her hand on Natsume’s shoulder, and Nishimura let out a strangled squeak. “She won’t get mad at you, whatever you decide.”

“Are you okay?” Tanuma said softly. Clearly both he and Taki had noticed he wasn’t actually happy right now.

“I’m fine,” Natsume said, letting the fake smile drop away and replacing it with a shrug of his shoulders. “I’ll just check it out. No big deal.”

---

“I don’t get why you’re whining so much about it,” Nyanko-sensei said, trotting beside Natsume as he walked to school the next day. “It’s just one measly meeting. What’s so bad about this running team thing anyway?”

“The people who took care of me when I joined the track team the first time were really bothered by it. They didn’t like having to drive me places, or the attention I got—”

“The Fujiwara’s aren’t like that, so that’s a stupid excuse.”

“That’s true, but it’s more than that,” Natsume sighed. “Last time, I was constantly late or absent. A yokai would attack me or I’d get sick...”

“Wimp.”

“Shut up, Sensei. Anyway, whenever that happened, the coach yelled at me for flaking out. I let everyone down.”

“But this woman said it doesn’t matter if you’re sick and can’t come, right?”

“She says that now, but she might change her mind,” Natsume mumbled.

“You’re so gloomy,” Nyanko-sensei shook his head. “It’s annoying.”

“Look, even if what she says is true, my teammates probably won’t like me. They didn’t last time. And I just…I just hated the feeling of all those people looking at me.”

He’d struggled a bit with just the sports day crowd watching him, but being on a real team was a million times worse. All those people judging, all their hopes riding on him not messing up… He shivered, remembering the way his skin had crawled, the way his breathing turned funny, the way his hands had shook. All those eyes on him…the weight of their gaze had made him want to curl up so small they couldn’t see him anymore.

“And there’s the actual reason. You’re bad with other people and you get stage fright. Boring.” Sensei yawned. “Just get over it. You have yokai trying to eat you all the time, why’s this scary?’

“I’d rather deal with yokai than the track team,” Natsume said emphatically.

Nyanko-sensei scoffed.

“A couple years ago there was this coach who was always chasing after me to recruit me. I was running from her, trying to get off school grounds so she couldn’t follow me, but then I saw that there was this huge yokai on the path out of school. Big fangs, sharp teeth, claws, all that.  I’d have to double back to avoid it, and the coach would catch me. So… I took the better option, and I ran past the yokai.”

“Idiot. Did it attack you?”

“I took a swing at me and knocked me out. But because of that the teacher was reprimanded for making the sickly kid collapse and they threatened to fire her if she ever chased a student again. She stopped trying to ask me after that. So it all worked out.”

“I don’t understand humans,” Sensei sighed. “Anyway, I’m in favor of the track team. If it helps you run faster, that means less of you getting snatched by yokai and less work for me.”

“Stop being lazy and trying to skip out on your bodyguard duties, Sensei. Yokai shouldn’t be chasing me down in the first place, it’s your job to take care of them.”

“I’ve got my own life to live! Stop being so selfish!”

“I’m the selfish one?”

They bickered all the way to the school gate, and though Natsume would never admit it to Nyanko-sensei, it did make him feel a lot better.

---

Part 1 complete! Part 2 to come. This is probably about halfway there, if not more.

Footnotes:

*Yes, Sasada has a sports and academic rival yuri storyline in the background. Yes I'm being self indulgent. It's what she deserves. It probably won't come up much more, I just thought it would be funny. Sasada's having this whole romantic epic while Natsume's worrying about track.

*Touko has been bragging about how kind and helpful you are, Natsume, you dummy. And about the garden he made and how it was good it was and other things Natsume does really well he hasn't noticed. She's also probably noticed he's fast and relatively strong for his size, he's always fetching and carrying stuff for her, but Coach thought she was exaggerating. UNTIL NOW.

[okjeanantony]

Woman in the Meadows

Garden of Eden,

city of god, descended afar,

awake in arms, breathe in wings,

nature springs.

You fly into stars,

you sit in meadows,

scented by petals

from flowers you pick,

a picnic in the soft grass.

Your soles, your soul,

light on toes,

through trails you sing,

pick daffodils,

melodies trailing back.

With loving hands

you frolic,

fingertips lend touch

to blooms in your paradise.

The garden, with your pair of eyes,

even when it’s hard to see,

blinded by light, asking the sky,

“Is anyone looking at me?”

Chatterbox, syllables loud,

headsets, pamphlets out,

“as you can see, ladies and gentlemen…”

In the painting, legend says,

she lived beyond the meadows,

dancing with petals,

forever searching.

Framed on painted walls,

in the silence of passing shoes—

no flash, no touch,

no interruption.

The legend lives on

in heads that sprawl,

as you did in those meadows,

catching butterflies,

spinning without Juilliard or stage,

no ballerina.

Studied by scholars, known in fables,

her story taught in history’s tales,

bloomed in rooms, consumed by listening ears,

the teacher grabs our eyes—

she says, “as the story goes…”

The woman in the meadows,

with her almond brown locks

and gardened petals,

never lost,

only found in gardens

where her dreams cradled in song,

mornings long,

and her face kissed by the sun,

clouds of none.

Her spirit welcomed by the breeze,

searching her skin,

as cherubs cater to the winds.

The woman in the meadows

dances till it ends,

hears the rivers bend,

as they say,

the woman in the meadows,

her raison d’être,

the garden that confessed to her

their love and need

for the woman in the meadows.

Pages flipped to finished,

held by the back cover,

our eyes let go

with our teacher’s mouth closed.

The story ran to its end,

our hearts filled cold,

bones sold,

and the chalice of hope emptied.

She lived in words,

the ones we remembered,

and others rehearsed.

We’ll never see her—

only in walls, in words, in minds—

the woman of the meadows,

lived in a place only our ears will ever see,

while our eyes remain faithfully blind.

[bicycle4two]

she must know (that she is loved) || Jason Todd x F!Reader

Summary:

jason has to trust that she is following him

or

an orpheus and eurydice retelling

...

Read on AO3

...

Part 1

...

It’s a journey he never thought he’d find himself on but there are a lot of things Jason thought he’d never do and has done, albeit most of the time reluctantly, against his will, in his life. 

It’s something out of a fairytale, an age-old story that was made to teach people lessons, to inspire thought and discourse, and Jason thinks that no one is going to believe that this is something he’s doing–something that can be done, but if there’s something that Jason Todd knows how to do, it’s the impossible.

If he was able to come back, why can’t she?

At least he’s here to guide her.

(God, he hopes that he is guiding her, that she, like she’s done many times before, is following him.)

…

There are moments, multiple throughout his time of knowing her, when she will ask him to play for her, play something she can dance to–an easy request, as there’s nothing she can’t dance to–something that allows her to close her eyes, spread her arms, and glide, twirl, fly across the room, allows her to forget that for a moment, just this moment at least, that there’s a world outside their own.

Jason doesn’t think he’s that good a musician, he prefers the company of his books when he finds himself having downtime, but he plays, he plays for her because she asks him to, because if it’s within his power, he’d do it for her, always for her.

So he plays her a tune, mostly something from the top of his head, a melody that’s inspired by her, and he watches her dance, follows her fluid movements with his eyes.

He’s not that good a musician, he can’t flawlessly play without looking down at the keys from time to time, but it doesn’t matter, she doesn’t seem to notice when he misses a note, and Jason couldn't care less either because he simply cannot tear his gaze away from her. 

(Jason! Look at me!)

He just can’t.

…

He’s long grown accustomed to all things cold and dark, in some way he has found comfort in it as it has often played to his advantage when he’s out fighting crime or investigating, but now he yearns for the light, the feel the warmth of the sun on his skin. 

It was not often that he found himself outside the city for leisure but there was a time, not so long ago, that she convinced him to drive them to the outskirts, just until they saw some semblance of nature, of life undisturbed, and they laid together under the clear blue sky. She had danced for him then, too, the trees as her backdrop, the grass her stage, her carefree laughter as her song.

And him, her enamored audience. 

There’s no laughter here now. The ground is wet under the soles of his shoes, the damp crunch of gravel under his heavy footsteps creates the soundtrack of this journey. He expects the haunting echoes of wind to accompany it, maybe the clicks of bats like what he hears when he is down at the Batcave, but the air is still, quiet, making it quite obvious that he is alone.

No. 

Not alone. 

Of course not because she’s here, she’s just behind him.

She’s always just behind him.

(Look! Look at me!)

…

Trust.

She’s there.

He needs to trust that she’s there, behind him, following him, like always.

Trust that even without him turning back, she’s just there, quickening her steps to catch up to his long stride.

He should probably slow down though, he doesn’t want to get too ahead of her, doesn’t want her to trip just because he wants to get them out of here as soon as possible, get her to where it's safe, get her home.

He stops.

He waits, just in case, in case she’s lagged behind, in case she has fallen due to their haste–

Fallen? What if she’s hurt? What if she’s too far behind, unable to move, he needs to turn back, needs to make sure–

No. 

Trust. 

She’s following him. 

She always follows him.

She must.

(Right?)

…

He used to say that her gaze was like fire, not in the way that it burns, but in the way that it warms, brings comfort. In the way that fire can symbolize that you’re home, that you can take refuge here.

He always feels the warmth of her stare, feels it like a caress down his back, before he hears her approach. It’s a difficult thing to do, to sneak up on him, and although her steps are soft, quieter than even his own trained and calculated movements, her eyes give her away everytime.

It’s this warmth that he seeks now. 

Sometimes he thinks he can feel it, feel the prickle at the back of his neck.

But it’s not enough, it was never enough just to feel that she’s there, he needs to know, needs to clarify with his own eyes that she is just behind him–

(Jason!)

–But he can’t. He won’t look back.

So he has to depend on what little warmth he feels, ignores that actual chill in his bones.

Because fire, although strong and consuming, can also be distinguished.

…

Just a peak–a little glance over his shoulder–just to make sure, just to check.

It won’t count—it will.

He can’t. 

But–

He just has to know. 

He has to make sure.

He must–

(Look!)

–He must not.

…

She used to say that Jason had a talent for finding her, especially when she needed him the most–when she was late to class, when she needed to go to the washroom because she’d spilled sauce on her white skirt, when she’d taken the wrong turn looking for their favorite coffee shop, when some Rogue goon had picked her off the streets to use as a hostage. He’s always there at the nick of time, just when she’s starting to feel a little hopeless, he’s there to save her, to bring her back.

What she doesn't know is that she has a talent for finding him, too. 

When he’s lost in his thoughts, stuck in a spiral of dark memories, of what ifs and could have beens. She finds him, brings him back to the light, reminds him that he is good, that he has good in him, that things, no matter how bleak they seem in the moment, will always turn out alright in the end.

Even him. 

Especially him.

…

(Look at me!)

Don’t.

…

There was a time, under the blanket of the night sky, when she roused him from his sleep, her eyes glassy with unshed tears, fingers twisted into his nightshirt.

“Why are you with me?”

She asks, voice cracking like ice. 

And Jason, Jason is frozen because—

She must know why. 

She must know.

“Why?”

But sometimes, sometimes she needs reminding. 

“How is it that you see me?”

She asks, eyes closing, tears falling, Jason reaches for her then, thumbs wiping at her cheeks, soft, so soft, fragile.

He sees her, he’s always seen her. 

It’s hard to look away from her.

And she must know why. 

…

“You always see the best in me.”

“I just see you.”

…

Light! 

There’s light!

It’s still a ways away but Jason finally sees an end to this journey, the suffering, the anxiety.

In his excitement, he nearly turns back to her, almost looks back to tell her, assure her, celebrate with her, that they’re almost done, they’re almost home but—

But he stops. He stops himself because he can’t, he must not.

He needs to reach the light first, needs to lead them out of the darkness, so he hurries, because it’s there—they’re almost there!

At last—

He’s here!

He feels the warmth on his skin, his eyes squint from how bright it is, can’t imagine how long it’s been since he’s been in the light, and her—it’s been even longer for her but soon, soon they’ll be together, together in the light—

“Jason!”

It’s automatic—he turns, he turns to her because she calls for him, he’ll always answer her call—

And, there she is!

There she is in—

Darkness.

…

“Jason, look! Look at me!”

And it’s almost funny how she feels the need to say that, to call his attention to her, because Jason is looking, he’s always looking at her. She doesn’t realize, doesn’t yet know, how hard it is for him to look away.

...

a/n:

oh look, i did write a part 2

[quinnydoll]

Through The Thicket

A doll has been sent on a very important task today: gathering mail. It asked its witch for something it could do for her, and she told it to head out and get the mail for her.

"This one can't find its shoes! What is it to do?" Asks the doll, looking around the front of the house, curiously.

The witch smirks some, and jokingly speaks, "I guess you'll just have to go out barefoot." The doll of course, takes this seriously, and heads outside of the house without shoes before its witch has a chance to stop it. It crosses the threshold of the stone-paved path into the soft grass on the surprisingly long past to the impractically distant mailbox. Soon, it reaches a path in the sun, with overgrown old tracks which a wheeled vehicle once rode. The grass is dry, and a sparse thicket peppers the ground where it considers stepping.

It hesitates, but slowly and carefully, it takes a step forward in the brush dried by the harsh sunlight. Luckily, its first step is into a patch of still soft grass, which grants it a little bit of confidence as it takes another step. This step lands directly into a spot of goathead stickers, which plant themselves sharply into the balls of the doll's left foot. It lets out a sharp screech, to rival the texture of the barbs that have now buried themselves within its foot, trapping themselves between its toes, and the sting permeates through the area.

The doll collapses, doing its best to relieve the weight from the bottom of its now thoroughly pinpricked foot. Carefully, it pulls the pointy intruders out from their space, feeling them largely pull free, but on occasion, the points seem to snap off into splinters inside. The realization dons on the doll that the walk is going to become increasingly painful. It quietly curses its witch for sending it on such an arduous journey, as it slowly lifts itself back up to its feet to try and continue towards the mailbox.

The process repeats itself a few times as the doll takes a few more steps forward, but it eventually figures out where to step which doesn't hurt as much. Slowly but surely, as it carefully places its feet, it figures out where it doesn't hurt as much to walk. It finds a way to safely traverse the path, and finds its way to the mailbox and back without much more issue.

"This must be the lesson Miss wanted to teach it!" The doll realizes, as its stride begins to resemble a dance through the safe portions of the path, each step following a rhythm and order as it reaches the door, with envelopes in hand.

As it opens the door, it's quickly snatched up by its witch, "I was joking when I said you'd have to go out barefoot! Are you okay? You didn't hurt your feet, did you?"

"It did, but it learned something! It first found the-" The doll is cut off as it's pulled further inside, and sat down on a comfy chair while its witch retrieves a pair of tweezers to remove the fibrous needle-like natural pins.

The witch sighs as she carefully begins the process of removing the painful intrusions, "I appreciate you for getting the mail for me, but you didn't have to go out like that. Now, tell me about the lesson you learned." "It initially found the path hard to navigate without hurting itself, but when it slowed down and treaded carefully, it began to notice wherever it could put its feet that was safer. It slowly learned what to look for to avoid hurting itself any further!" The doll doesn't even seem to wince after every little pin pull as it tells its story to the very worried witch.

She smiles some as she looks at the doll's eyes, "Good doll. Though, you really didn't have to learn that like that."

"O-oh! before it forgets, it cursed you under its breath the first time it hit the painful bit, and it wanted to let you know so it can dispell the curse..." The doll's gaze is now downtrodden.

The witch raises an eyebrow, "A curse, you say? What exactly did you say to curse me?"

"It said... 'F-fuck you...'" The doll looks even more dejected and scared as it quotes its curse from earlier.

At this, the witch throws her head back, as she erupts with laughter, and pats the doll on the head, "I'm sure I'll survive your curse, little one. You don't need to worry."

The doll pouts as it begrudgingly receives the affection from its witch. It's glad that she's confident that she'll be okay, but it does wish she would take it more seriously...

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

We'll give it a shot

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 30/31

Prompt: New year's resolutions

Rated: G

CW: aftermath of injury; aftermath of trauma

Tags: Established relationship; recovery; fluff

Notes: Continued from days 3 and 18 - @house-of-the-moving-image and I just wanted them to be happy after all we put them through. 😭❤️

Steve has always been all movement, all fluid grace, for as long as Eddie remembers. On the pitch, in the pool. Shielding others with his own body, his strength. He was proud of this. It was the one thing he knew he was good at.

And then Vecna nearly twisted his limbs from his body. Broke his arm in three different places, his leg in five.

“They say I'll need to be patient,” Steve tells Eddie a few months after everything, hands tangled over the middle console of the van. It's late December and they're on their way back from physical therapy. “Could be months before I walk without crutches. Years maybe before I'm back to the way I was before… or close.”

Eddie clenches his free hand around the steering wheel, like Steve clung to that stupid handrail earlier. White-knuckled and pale-faced, jaw locked tight as he struggled to take a few shaky steps. Not for the first time, he wishes that he'd been faster, pulled him out sooner-

“Eds.”

He snaps back to the present as if pulled by a bungee rope. Steve’s eyes are warm and soft.

“Stop it,” he says, gentle and firm and so very strong, so very Steve. Eddie needs to swallow against the sudden thickness clogging his throat. “You've nothing to hold against yourself. You saved me.”

“You saved yourself,” Eddie huffs, eyes stubbornly trained on the snowy road. “I helped, is all. You can do this, too. You'll be walking in no time, you just wait.”

“Dunno,” Steve mutters. He sounds so small, so broken, so very much not like himself, and Eddie wishes he could resurrect Vecna, simply to kill him again. Make it more painful this time, let him suffer like he made them suffer. “You saw me just now. Feels like I need to fight forever for every little inch of success.”

“Let's make a deal?”

The words are out before Eddie can think better of it, but the sadness on Steve’s face has given way to curiosity, so he shoulders on.

“We could make it a new year's resolution. If you manage to walk by … July, let's say, I'll quit smoking.”

“Oh, please!” Steve's eyebrow quirks. “As if you could.”

“Of course I could. I'm tired of you whining about my cigarette breath anyhow. What's wrong, big boy? Scared of getting your ass handed to you?”

“Fuck off,” Steve grouses, but his mouth is curling into a smile and his eyes are sparkling. “It's on, dude!”

“Hell, yeah!” Eddie makes no attempt at hiding his smug grin. Count on Steve’s competitive streak to win him over. “It's so on!”

*

“Oh God,” Steve squawks the second his hands lose contact with the crutches. “It's off. Eds, it's off, give’m here.”

“Nuh-uh!” Eddie dances a step back - not far, still close enough to catch Steve in case he falls, but far enough to keep the crutches out of reach. “Just give it a shot, c’mon. You got this.”

Over the distance between them, their eyes meet.

“I've gotcha.”

Steve's eyes light up and a small laugh bubbles from his throat.

And then he walks.

Eddie makes sure to stay a bit ahead, spouting a never-ending string of encouragement and jokes and sweet nonsense. Just keeps talking so that Steve can focus on something other than the fear and the doubt. Guides him with his voice like he's done before, like he'll keep doing for as long as Steve needs, as long as he wants.

The first steps are unsure and wobbly, but soon enough, Steve finds his footing. They've both kicked off their shoes, and the dry summer grass is brittle under their naked feet, the earth soft and warm. The sound of their footfalls mingles with the whirr of the cicadas in the grass, the rush of his own blood in his ears, their mingled laughter, a gorgeous, wonderful symphony of alive, alive, alive.

When Steve’s legs give out and he stumbles, Eddie is there. He cushions their fall with his own body and they go down in a tangle of limbs and laughter, lips meeting before they even hit the ground. The crutches go clattering somewhere to the side.

“I did it!” Steve gasps against his mouth, and Eddie can't tell if the sound is more laugh or more sob. “Shit, did you- did you see that? I did it!”

“You did it,” Eddie rumbles, hands in Steve's hair, kissing his lips and nose and eyes and anything he can reach between words. Both their cheeks are wet with tears, but they're good tears, finally good tears, and he can’t tell whose they are anymore. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that they’re alive, and here, and together. “Fuck yeah, you did, always knew you would. So strong, so amazing. Love you so much.”

Steve makes another sound, a raw thing so full of emotion it makes Eddie’s heart flutter, and crashes their lips together again, firmer, longer. Eddie sighs as a hesitant tongue coaxes at his lips, opens up, lets him in.

And then Steve groans and pulls back.

“What?” Eddie asks, insides twisting with worry. “Shit, did you hurt yourself? What-”

“‘m fine!” Steve wheezes, glancing up at him with watery eyes. “You just taste like an ashtray, is all.”

“Oh, c'mon!” Eddie grouses while Steve rolls off him, flops onto his back in the grass. “I had like half a cig this morning.”

“Half a cig too much, then,” Steve beams up at him, all glinting teeth and gold-streaked hair in the sunlight, eyes sparkling with mirth and alive, alive, alive. “I win.”

Eddie pouts. “What though? Can't remember agreeing on a prize, this was all fun and-”

One strong, nimble hand tangles in the collar of his shirt, pulls him in.

“Shut up and kiss me, ash breath.”

Eddie has never obeyed an order more gladly in his life.

All my holiday drabbles

[alyrasturnz]

COWBOY LIKE ME

chapter 4 ⌗ you can't just run around with cowboys!

❐ summary » y/n, a young woman from the opulent world of beverly hills, embarks on a family vacation to the serene countryside. amidst the lush landscapes, she sneaks out one evening and encounters matt, a charming cowboy with a heart as vast as the southern skies.

❐ pairings » cowboy!matt x affluent!reader

❐ warnings » this is a series, arguing with parents

❐ a/n && w/c » okayy last update for the night cause i have training tmr (technically today) • 2.59k

꒰ masterlist ꒱

the sun's rays pierced through the curtains, casting a dappled light that danced across your face, its warmth both gentle and insistent as it seeped into the room.

your head throbbed with a relentless ache, yet it found solace as it nestled gently against his chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart offering a soothing counterpoint to the pain.

soft snores gently escaped through matt's nose, a rhythmic cadence that filled the room, as you slowly sat up, rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes.

your head throbbed with the relentless pounding of nails, a cruel reminder of the excesses of last night's revelry. as your gaze drifted to the clock in matt's room, your eyes widened in alarm.

you had spent the night enveloped in the unfamiliar comfort of matt's place, rather than the familiar confines of your own.

"fuck," you muttered under your breath, the word barely escaping your lips as you immediately pushed yourself up, your movements swift and urgent. matt began to stir from his slumber, his body shifting slightly as he adjusted to the sudden disturbance.

you swiftly exited his room, your footsteps barely making a sound on the floor. behind you, matt sat up, his movements slow and groggy as he tried to comprehend the sudden rush of activity.

"california—" he called out, his voice raspy and thick with sleep as he stood up, his movements deliberate and unsteady. he began to walk after you, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet room. "where are you going?" he asked, running a hand through his disheveled hair, the gesture a futile attempt to bring some order to the chaos of the morning.

"my parents are gonna kill me!" you exclaimed in a panic, your hands trembling as you hastily slipped on your shoes, each motion fueled by a rising sense of urgency.

you swiftly opened his door, your heart pounding in your chest as you bolted out of his house. the cool morning air greeted you as you sprinted into the open field, the grass brushing against your legs with each hurried step.

matt leaned casually against the doorframe, his eyes following your every move with a soft smirk playing on his lips. his posture was relaxed, yet there was an undeniable intensity in his gaze as he watched you disappear into the distance.

"at least let me drive you, california," he called out, his voice carrying a mix of concern and amusement. you stopped in your tracks, the urgency of your flight momentarily halted as you turned to look at him. his expression was earnest, a stark contrast to the chaotic scene unfolding around you.

"actually—yeah, that would be nice," you replied, your voice tinged with relief. he let out a soft chuckle, the sound warm and reassuring, as he grabbed his car keys. with a fluid motion, he closed the door behind him and walked up to his truck, the early morning light casting long shadows. you followed closely, your footsteps echoing his, feeling a sense of unexpected comfort in his presence.

he opened the passenger door for you with a gentlemanly grace, allowing you to slide in smoothly. once you were settled, he closed the door behind you with a firm yet gentle motion, sealing you inside the cozy confines of the truck.

matt settled into the driver’s seat, the leather creaking softly under his weight. with a practiced hand, he turned the ignition, the engine roaring to life. without hesitation, he began to navigate the truck down the winding road, the hum of the tires creating a rhythmic backdrop to your thoughts.

matt’s hands tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening as he cast a quick, intense glance in your direction. urgency flickered in his eyes, a storm of concern and determination. "california, where exactly am i takin' you? we need to get you back before your folks notice you're gone," he said, his voice a blend of worry and resolve.

you fidgeted with the hem of your dress, anxiety bubbling up like an untamed storm. "just take a right up here and then a left at the next light," you instructed, your voice barely above a whisper. "i can't believe i didn't tell them… i'm going to be in so much trouble." the weight of your words hung heavy in the air, each syllable a testament to the turmoil within you.

he let out a low sigh, the sound resonating with a mix of resignation and determination. shaking his head slowly, he murmured, "we'll figure it out. sometimes things just happen, you know? there's no point in casting blame when all we can do is move forward." his words, though simple, carried the weight of experience and a quiet strength.

your cheeks flushed with a mix of relief and worry. "thanks, matt. i just… i didn't plan for this to happen. i just wanted to stay a little longer." your voice wavered with the unspoken turmoil, each word a delicate thread in the tapestry of your emotions.

matt's eyes softened as he glanced over at you, a gentle understanding reflecting in his gaze. "i get it. sometimes you just need a break from everything. but we'll get through this together, alright?" his words, though simple, carried a promise of unwavering support, a beacon of hope amidst the uncertainty.

you nodded, staring out the window as the familiar streets flew by, each landmark a silent witness to your thoughts. "yeah, together. i just hope my parents understand." your voice trailed off, laden with a mix of hope and trepidation, each word a delicate balance between fear and faith.

he pressed down on the gas pedal, determination etched into every syllable. "we'll make sure they do. just hang tight, california. we'll get you home safe." his words, though resolute, carried a promise of unwavering commitment, each one a testament to the journey ahead.

you bit your lip, feeling a tumultuous blend of gratitude and anxiety. "thanks, matt. for being here." your voice quivered slightly, each word a fragile thread woven with the weight of unspoken emotions and the solace of his presence.

he gave a small nod, his eyes steadfast on the road ahead. "anytime. let's just get you home and we'll figure out the rest later." his voice carried a quiet resolve, a promise that transcended the immediate moment, offering a sanctuary in the midst of uncertainty.

the silence in the car was filled with the hum of the engine and the occasional sound of passing cars. you couldn't help but steal glances at matt, his jaw set in a determined line. despite the chaos of the night, there was an inexplicable sense of comfort in his presence, as if his unwavering resolve was a beacon amidst the storm, grounding you in the midst of your turmoil.

"do you think they'll be really mad?" you asked, shattering the fragile silence that enveloped you both, your voice tinged with a tremor of uncertainty.

matt glanced over, his expression softening. "they might be upset, but they'll understand. you didn't do anything wrong." his voice was a gentle balm, attempting to soothe the storm of doubt brewing within you.

you sighed, leaning back into the seat. "i hope you're right. i just… i don't want them to think i'm irresponsible." your voice was laced with a mix of apprehension and vulnerability, each word a testament to the weight of your concerns.

he chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he shook his head with a gentle, almost imperceptible motion. "you're one of the most responsible people i know. they'll see that."

the car turned onto your street, the familiar silhouettes of the houses gradually emerging into view. your heart began to race as your eyes locked onto your house, the porch light casting a warm, reassuring glow. "this is it," you murmured softly.

matt pulled up to the curb, the engine's hum fading into silence as he turned it off. he swiveled in his seat to face you, his eyes brimming with reassurance. "you got this, california. just be honest with them."

you nodded, drawing in a deep, steadying breath. "thanks, matt. for everything."

he smiled warmly, his fingers gently wrapping around yours in a reassuring squeeze. "anytime. now go on, before they start worrying even more."

you stepped out of the car, your legs feeling unsteady as you made your way up the familiar path to your front door. each step seemed to echo the uncertainty within you. pausing at the threshold, you glanced back at matt one last time. he gave you a thumbs up, his smile radiating encouragement.

you opened the door to the house, and your gaze fell upon your dad, seated in the dining room with his head buried in his hands. meanwhile, your mom paced back and forth, her movements restless and filled with worry.

you closed the door behind you, the sound causing both of your parents' gazes to snap up and fixate on you. their expressions twisted from concern to pure, unadulterated anger.

"where the hell have you been?" your mom yelled, her voice trembling with a volatile mix of fury and relief. "we've been worried sick!"

before you could utter a single word, your dad's eyes narrowed, his face a tempest of disapproval. "who's that in the car outside?" he barked, his tone dripping with accusation. "who the hell is that?"

"that's matt," you replied, striving to keep your voice steady despite the relentless pounding of your heart. "he gave me a ride home."

"matt? a cowboy?" your dad's voice dripped with disdain, each word a sharp blade. "what were you thinking, y/n? sneaking out and associating with someone like him?"

"he's not just 'someone like him'," you retorted, your frustration swelling like an unstoppable tide. "he's a good guy. he went out of his way to ensure I got home safely."

"you don't get it, do you?" your mom's voice was cold, her eyes boring into yours. "you're a beverly hills girl. you can't just run around with cowboys and think there won't be consequences."

her voice was like a dagger, each word slicing through the fragile fabric of your defenses. her eyes, unyielding and intense, seemed to strip away any semblance of defiance you might have had.

"i don't care about that!" you yelled, tears of anger and hurt stinging your eyes. "i like him, and he treats me well. why can't you just trust me?" your voice cracked with emotion, each word a desperate plea for understanding. the tears that welled up blurred your vision, hot and relentless, as your heart pounded in your chest. the raw intensity of your feelings seemed to hang in the air, a palpable force demanding to be acknowledged.

his voice boomed through the room, each word a thunderclap of disbelief and fury. his face, flushed with rage, seemed to glow with an intensity that matched the storm brewing in his eyes. "trust you?" he shouted. "you snuck out without telling us, and now you're getting rides from cowboys in the middle of the night. how are we supposed to trust you?" the accusation hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, leaving no room for rebuttal or explanation.

"because i'm not a child anymore!" you screamed back, your voice trembling with a mix of defiance and desperation. "i can make my own decisions," you hurled into the tense silence, your words carrying the weight of years of unspoken frustration. your hands clenched into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you fought to steady your breathing, the raw edge of your scream echoing through the room.

"well, you're certainly acting like one," your mom snapped, her words striking like a slap across the face. "this is irresponsible, y/n. you need to start thinking about your actions," she continued, her voice laced with a biting edge, each syllable a reminder of her disappointment. her eyes bore into yours, a storm of frustration and concern swirling within them, making the air between you feel thick and suffocating.

"fine," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of defiance and desperation. "i'm sorry i worried you. but i'm not sorry about matt," you added, each word a delicate balance between apology and resolve, your eyes reflecting a storm of emotions as you struggled to maintain your composure.

your heart pounded in your chest, the weight of unspoken truths and the fierce determination to stand by your choices creating a palpable tension in the room.

your dad's face hardened, his eyes narrowing into slits of disapproval. "you don't understand what you're getting yourself into," he said, his voice cold and distant, like a winter wind that chills to the bone. "this isn't just about you; it's about our family," he continued, each word dripping with a gravity that made the air around you feel heavy and oppressive.

his gaze bore into you, a silent plea wrapped in layers of stern resolve, making it clear that the stakes were higher than you had ever imagined.

you felt a lump forming in your throat, but you swallowed it down with a determined effort. "i understand more than you think," you replied, striving to keep your voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions swirling within. "i know you don't approve of him, but i can't change how i feel," you continued, each word a fragile thread woven with conviction and vulnerability, your heart aching with the weight of unspoken truths and the fierce loyalty to your own feelings.

your mom's eyes were filled with unshed tears, glistening like fragile crystals on the brink of shattering. "y/n, we've always tried to guide you the best we could. we just want you to be safe, to make the right choices," she said, her voice trembling with a mix of sorrow and earnest concern, each word a plea wrapped in the tender weight of parental love and fear.

"maybe your idea of the right choice isn't the same as mine," you said, feeling the sting of your own words reverberate through your chest. "i can't keep living my life by your standards. i need to make my own decisions, even if they hurt," you continued, each syllable laden with the weight of burgeoning independence and the bittersweet taste of defiance.

your dad's expression turned to stone, his features hardening into an impenetrable mask. "go to your room," he commanded, his voice an unwavering decree that left no room for argument. the finality of his words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the chasm that had opened between you, filled with unspoken tensions and the weight of unyielding authority.

you looked at your mom, your eyes silently pleading for some sign of support, but she just looked away, her face etched with a sorrow that seemed to carve deep lines into her features. her gaze remained averted, a poignant testament to the silent struggle within her, torn between her love for you and the weight of familial expectations.

"fine," you muttered, turning towards the stairs. as you ascended each step, the weight of their disappointment settled heavily upon your shoulders, like an invisible burden growing with every movement. reaching your room, you closed the door softly behind you, feeling the walls close in around you, the oppressive silence enveloping you in a cocoon of isolation. the sense of solitude cut deep, but there was no going back now; the path you had chosen was set, and the echoes of your decision reverberated in the stillness.

taglist — @imwetforyourmom @meatballzerz69 @pinkishpearls @bandanamatt @thedangerousalleyway @muchloveforhacker @stinkytinkywinky @jetaimevous @everleiqh @conspiracy-ash @ifwdominicfike @blahbel668 @slutforsturnioloss

[revivemyreverie]

“Watch yourself. After all, you may be decent at dancing, but your foul attitude could be easily burnt away.”

Twisted from: The Evil Queen’s Red Iron Shoes

Coppelia Waltz

コッペリア・ウォールス

CV: ???

Technical Info.

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Demisexual

Birthday: 05/25

Age: 18

Height: 5’7 (170)

Hair Color: Charcoal Black

Eye Color: River Grey

Hand Pref.: Left

Homeland: City of Flowers

College Info.

Year: 1st

Class: 1B Set 27

Club: Track and Field

Favorite Subject: Art

Other.

Hobby: Flower Arrangement

Likes: Weddings

Dislikes: Forgiving others

Favorite Food: French Toast

Hated Food: Sunflower Seeds

Specialty: Ballet

UM: Iron Vengeance

The lower part of your body becomes bound to an unseeable fire. Until your begging finds value, you’ll dance in a hot hell forever.

The Dancing Plague

There was once a little girl, in a little village, who was born with no feet. Despite her obvious disability, she still dreamed of dancing in front of a large crowd, with flowers being thrown at her graceful figure. The other ballerinas in her class, however, thought differently.

“All you do is sit on your wheelchair without any legs to stand on, and that’s where you’ll be until you die of old age!” They’d pick on her without fail. “Hurry and give up, us real ballerinas need no stumpy girls like you!”

Brought to tears by their cruelty, the little girl fled the studio and sped into the woods. She wheeled on the mossy grass for hours and hours, losing herself in both the trees and her tears. Suddenly, the girl heard a tune like no other, and drew closer to the sound. That is when she saw it—a fairy dance.

Countless humans danced hand-in-hand, even as their feet were dyed red. But the faeries, oh the faeries, how gracefully they danced! Like flowers in the wind, they scattered and reformed and flew so freely!

It was only until one noticed the child that the music stopped, and they gathered around. And yet, the girl was not met with hostility.

“What is a mortal so young doing in the woods?” One asked.

She cried out her woes to the faeries, describing how terrible the other students were, and how she just wanted to learn to dance. The fae, finding sympathy for the little human, quickly thought up a way to fix her problem.

They lifted her from her wheelchair and flew her to their lair. On the first night of her visit, the ballerina was granted a pair of silver slippers, able to lift her off the ground. She cried and cried that night, so joyous to finally dance.

On the second night, the faeries taught her their peculiar dance. Like the humans she saw in the circle, she twirled and jumped without end. But unlike their tired bodies, she proved herself relentless, refusing to stop unless her steps matched her teachers’. Soon enough, she was dancing just as gracefully.

On the 3rd and final night, the fae taught her a magic spell. Still being the tricksters they always were, they giggled and snickered as they whispered an incantation in her ear.

“But why do I need such a spell?” She curiously asked.

“To punish those naughty children,” one fae answered, “and to give you a sense of retribution.”

So on that night, when she left the forest and came back to the dancehall, she whispered out that little spell, cursing her classmates to a fiery pain. Without any dancers to take their spot, the adults dragged the little girl from her seat and onto the stage.

There, with her classmates wailing backstage as their feet burned the same bloody red as the humans in the forest, the little girl danced. Her iron shoes glistened on the stage, as the crowd stared in awe at her beautiful performance. And even past the thundering applause of the audience, and flowers being thrown to her feet, the little girl could only think of one thing—

That her dream finally came true.

❤️‍🔥…

“Do you have any final thoughts, Miss Waltz?” The reporter pointed the mic in her face, grinning.

The child thought, before looking up to her horrified mother, who had built her metal shoes herself. Then, to her sickened upperclassmen, who taught her the magic of vengeance and the dance that wowed the crowd.

Smiling, she turned back to the camera, concerned parents rushing behind her.

“I’d just like to thank everyone who supported me, and helped me achieve my dream! This really feels like a fairytale come true!”

[wisteriaw0rld]

I have hc request! May I? Imagine Muichiro, Rengoku and Tanjiro admiring you dancing and humming under the moonlight from afar but then suddenly you appeared beside them and pulled them to dance with you🫠🫠🫠🫠

-ˋˏ ༻moonlight༺ ˎˊ- (kny x reader)

||synopsis: They don’t know how to react when they find you dancing under the moon, however they get more nervous when you pull them to dance with you♡

||character order: tanjiro, kyojuro, muichiro

“All the pretty stars shine for you, my love.” -Lana Del Rey

˚ʚkamado tanjiroɞ˚

Tanjiro was able to tell you had gotten up and left the room. Your sweet scent slowly leaving as your soft footsteps against the wooden floor were receding.

The moment the shoji door could be heard closing, the boy stood up, getting off the futon laid out for him. Inosuke and Zenitsu were still sleeping, not even realizing you had left. 

It took a while to shake himself awake, but once he finally did, he walked over to the door and slid it open. Tanjiro slipped on his shoes before exiting out to the engawa and closing the door. He didn’t exactly understand why you had wandered off in the middle of the night.

You were a demon slayer, you knew about how dangerous it was to wander off alone at night. 

Tanjiro walked across the path of the engawa, sleepiness written all over his over face along with slight confusion.

If not for the gentle sound of humming filling his ears, he would’ve walked right past you, not even able to tell you were there due to the darkness of the night.

The soft hums made him stop yet made him feel even more tired than before. Tanjiros head slowly moved to where the hums were heard. He couldn’t see much due to his slightly blurry vision, all he could make out was a figure. His eyes squinted before he rubbed them, ignoring his exhaustion that attempted to consume him.

That same figure he saw gently swaying and humming under the moonlight had turned out to be you. Without delay, Tanjiro turned his whole body in your direction, finding himself entranced by you.

After some time, Tanjiro found himself moving to sit down. His legs dangled off the engawa as he watched you with a gentle smile on his face.

Tanjiro watched you for quite some time before closing his eyes, intaking the smell of the flowers planted across the grass field im front of him. The moment he opened his eyes, he saw you weren’t there. Only the flowers and the trees could be seen now.

Tanjiro felt himself tense up as his heart dropped. He didn’t have his katana with him but he got ready to stand up and find you.

Suddenly he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, making him whip his head in that direction. The moment he saw you, his tensed muscles relaxed as the kind smile appeared on his face again.

You smiled back before grabbing Tanjiros hand to pull him up. You watched as the boys eyes widened as you dragged him off to where you had been previously standing. 

Tanjiro seemed nervous and you could tell by the way he had cautiously followed your steps as you continued dancing and whirling gracefully.

“Have you ever danced before?” You asked Tanjiro with a small smile, laughing at the way he had tripped over himself yet didn’t fall. His face burned a bright red soon after.

Both of your hands reached out, grabbing Tanjiro as you tried your best to help him learn. It didn’t take long until he figured out how to do it. But with the way you looked under the bright stars was enough to distract him.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚

˚ʚrengoku kyojuroɞ˚

Going on missions with the flame pillar was something you got used to. With the compatibility of your breathing styles, Oyakata often assigned you two missions together when rumors of the twelve kizuki were spread.

Currently you were on a mission with the flame hashira. You had been laying on your futon, turning endlessly and you couldn’t get a rest at all. A lady had been kind enough to let you two stay at her residence after you saved her from the demon causing havoc in the town.

Yet even after defeating the demon you still couldn’t get sleep. Your body turned over to the side as your eyes glanced at Rengoku who was sleeping peacefully with the smallest smile on his face.

A slight sigh left your lips as you sat up, pushing yourself off the futon. You slipped on your shoes, sliding open the shoji door to head outside.

Next thing you knew, you found yourself humming to yourself while swaying yourself around, hoping to eventually tire yourself out.

Only a few minutes after you had gotten up, Kyojuro awoke as well. His eyes traveled over to where your futon was, only to see you missing. His eyes widened in the slightest as he jumped up, quickly grabbing his katana before running outside.

Despite being tired, he found himself running off to find you. Suddenly melodic humming filled his ears, making him pause his actions. It wasn’t the first time he heard you humming to yourself. You often did it on missions. So he immediately knew it was you.

Rengoku found himself moving in the direction of your voice. After turning a certain corner, he saw you. His heart rate slowed down as he stood there, watching you dance swiftly under the moon. 

The shining night sky had easily complimented your beauty. But in his eyes, with or without a perfect scenery, you were absolutely beautiful.

With the way you had moved to gently, he couldn’t get his eyes off of you. Suddenly, you had disappeared. Since you were a hashira, he was used to the way you had moved so quickly. But it had seemed like you had just vanished.

Suddenly, he felt two hands grab his own. And before he knew it he was with you in the same small field he had watched you dance in. A large smile plastered itself onto his face, making you smile as well.

Your humming continued and Rengoku eventually took the lead. However it didn’t take long until you fell asleep, Rengoku carrying you off back inside. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚

˚ʚtokito muichiroɞ˚

You didn’t often spend the night at the mist pillars estate. You offered to leave multiple times as to not be a bother, but he continued on telling you he didn’t mind you spending the night there. When you had arrived at the estate you were just supposed to drop something off. However you got distracted and next thing you knew, the night sky fell.

Even with being in the presence of a hashira, you felt you weren’t able to sleep peacefully. You never really received an undisturbed sleep. And eventually giving up, you left the room you had been staying in at the estate and wandered off outside.

Muichiro had always been a light sleeper. It was easy for him to wake up at the smallest noises. And since you had been in the room right across from his, he could hear your footsteps slowly going to exit the estate.

A small sigh left his lips as he got off his own futon. The first thing he thought of was an attempt of yours to leave. He understood you weren’t as skilled as him and if you were to run into a demon while leaving his estate, he would  blame himself.

It didn’t take long until he paused, not even halfway through looking for you. Of course he had ended up forgetting what he was doing outside. But before he could turn around to head back inside his estate, he heard soft hums coming from his favorite spot to watch the clouds.

He followed the soft noise, quickly assuming it was a demon of some sort. He found you right after. Dancing around a small field with a smile on your face. 

Muichiro moved down to sit on the soft grass as he continued to admire you, listening intently to your mesmerizing humming.

He had been completely silent, not making a noise as he continued to watch you, his eyes not leaving you once. You hadn’t even realized he was there. Your eyes wandered along until they soon fell on Muichiro. 

You paused for a quick second. The moment your humming stopped and your moving came to a halt, Muichiro’s head tilted. A small smile made its way onto your lips.

Muichiro watched as you walked over to him, extending your hand out for him to grab. He averted his gaze away from you before finally putting his hand in yours.

You watched as Muichiro’s stoic face remained although now a light pink hue covered his cheeks. He didn’t at all move as gracefully as you. You had to lead him and show him how to do it but you could tell he was hardly paying attention. More so just admiring you.

[xwritingdixonx]

To Rot With You | Daryl Dixon |

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Masterlist

Summary: The reader and Daryl take a stroll through the forests, contemplating what it truly means to die. And to do it together. (Purely written based on the Hozier song, In A Week.)

Warnings: mention of death, no use of y/n (yay)

Word Count: aprox. 1.5k

Era: hinted at Alexandria, established relationship

Song Recommendations: In a Week - Hozier

A/n: This is pretty simple and short but hopefully still enjoyable!

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The morning air was fresh, chilly, and slightly damp from the rain that fell throughout the night.

The morning was early. It is too early for any creature to crawl from its sleep and begin withering its way around the forest. Or perhaps it was too wet for any creature to begin their everyday lives, still hiding in the safety and warmth of their enclosures. Or perhaps they were bathing in the fuller ponds and slurping from puddles. Or maybe, they were like you. Drudging through the forest in search of their first meal, the pads of their feet slick with mud.

The moist soil squelched beneath your steps. Wet bits of green grass stuck themselves to the textures of your boots. A layer of mud painted itself to the sole of your shoe, lodging itself into whatever print had been carved there.

Though you didn't own a calendar and probably would never again, you could feel it in the air that Winter was ending and Spring was blossoming. The mornings were still chilly but always sunny, the warmth coming in the later hours of the day. And the rain was frequent but it did not bother you. It softened the frozen ground and plumped the trees and flowers so they could grow full of life and beauty. It provided drinking water and filled the natural water resources with even more water.

Daryl, however, was always bothered. He complained about not having seen a rabbit or a deer on your morning hunt. You poked at him and told him they were still resting like you should be. He complained when he slipped in the mud. And he complained even more when he saw a fox saying, that's the reason we ain't finding no rabbits not because they're gettin' some extra shut-eye.

But he never complained about you. Not a word slipped his lips when you distracted him by holding his hand or standing too close. What was wrong about enjoying the presence of your partner? He had woken you up so early to drag you along, he might as well enjoy you.

When it came time to rest, you set up just on the treeline of a wide field. Wild with uncut grass, weeds, and flowers. The both of you sat on a fallen tree, attempting to avoid the wet ground that would surely ruin your clothes. Daryl had particularly picked this spot to keep an eye on anything wandering into the field for a nibble at the grass.

The sounds of the woods fell upon your ears as silence settled. A slight wind disturbed the greenery. Bending the tall grass, making it dance with the wildflowers. It moved the freshly grown leaves on the branches of the trees, flowing around like hair in the wind. The birds chirped their morning songs and the squirrels scattered from one tree to the next. You liked to joke and say they were hiding from Daryl. And truthfully, you couldn't blame them. You also had no desire to be shot with an arrow, skinned, and then thrown on a grill or tossed into a soup.

"Ya alright?" Daryl broke you from your daydreams, his voice gentle and smooth. You turned to catch his gaze, replying with a gentle, “Yeah.” Followed by a reassuring smile. His hand reached for yours, pulling it to rest in his own. You were already at peace in the sounds and scenes of nature but his touch calmed you in places you didn't even know were tense. Every moment you were able to bask in the love you felt for him, you cherished.

Waking up beside him, falling asleep beside him, showering with him. There was nothing you wanted to do without him by your side. And that included death. You had thought about it...many times. How could you not in a world like this? Death was always right around the corner; peeking, creeping, and waiting. You and Daryl had had your fair share of scares over the years and those thoughts haunted your mind every time. How could you go on without him? How could you fight every day if the thing you're fighting to go home to, is no longer there?

Daryl had the same gloomy thoughts. Losing you was, as clique as it sounds, his worst nightmare. He ran from the thoughts as much as his legs would let him but eventually his legs wore out and it caught up to him in the worst of times. When you got hurt, even the smallest scratch sent him tumbling down. He’d grasp onto you, repeating the same words again and again; Are ya okay? Can I do anythin’? M’sorry. But the gloomiest time came at night after you'd fallen asleep, leaving him alone to succumb to the dreading feeling that was always chasing him. He’d lay beside you, watching your gentle features finally be at ease and always making sure your chest rose and fell with gentle breaths.

“We should just stay here.” You didn’t turn to look at Daryl when you spoke but he looked at you, admiring your silhouette as you looked off. “What do ya mean?” Daryl answered. He wasn’t entirely sure if you were actually talking to him or if the thoughts in your mind were just slipping from your lips. “We come to sit here all the time and no matter the weather, it’s always just…” Your words trailed off as your mind searched for the word to describe the scene before you.

“Perfect?”

An airy laugh came from your chest at Daryl’s word choice. You turned to him then. With your hand still in his, you brought it to your lips and planted a kiss. Almost as a way to say, thank you for the effort. “Comforting. But yes, also perfect.” In your mind it was warmth when it was cold, it was a breath of fresh air in a world of rotting corpses, it was the hope of a future in a world of early death. But he was right…in simple words it was perfect.

“We can build a little house-”

“We?”

With only one word his tone was thick with sarcastic disbelief. You playfully rolled your eyes and gave his hand a squeeze. With your free hand, you pointed to a random spot in the clearing as you rephrased your previous sentence. “You could build me a little house right there.” Daryl liked the sound of that better. A house he was to build, with his hands, just for you to live in. “We’ll fill it with all our things, steal some furniture from home, and scavenge the rest…We can build a fence around so we’re safe.” Your words were a daydreamy gleam and you were far from finished. “We’ll light fires in the Winter to stay warm and open the windows in Spring…” This was obviously a daydream you had put quite a bit of thought into, one you’d laid up at night pondering about, and Daryl would not rob himself of the indulgence of your words.

"I'll start a garden and you’ll hunt. We’ll always have full tummies,” You looked away from the sky to meet his equally blue eyes, “And even fuller hearts.” Your gentle smile rested upon your face and your eyes were filled with the longing of a home that only existed in your whimsical daydreams. Though it did not exist and there was a possibility it never would, Daryl felt himself melting into this world of what-ifs. Daryl had never associated the words home and love together before. But…what if it could exist? What if he could build a home. A home just for him. A home of comfort…a home where he could just simply love and not be afraid.

“W’bout everyone back home?” He questioned, “They’ll never find us.” You responded quickly. Daryl shook his head and scoffed, “Nah, they’d find us in less than a week.” Daryl’s ears perked up at the sound of your soft laughter. “Yeah, yeah they would.” Daryl’s eyes never left you, even when you turned your head to look around the wooded area. He could practically see the way you were editing your story. “Fine, we’ll uh-” Motioning behind you, you continued, “We’ll clear a path through the woods all the way to the road. So they can always come visit.”

Then, as you looked at him, the dread crept upon you. Wrapping its clawed mangled hands around your perfect bubble. “And when we go…we’ll go together.” This caught Daryl by surprise. The fate he so deeply feared was no longer chasing him. It was sitting on that tree with him…and in the form of the words that came from your tongue. “C’mom..don’t talk ‘bout that.” He tried to defer but you would not let him. Whether you went from a bite, from a bullet, from a freak accident, or if you were lucky enough to go naturally, it was and always will be the inevitable truth of fate. “Once we’ve lived in our home long enough and full of love, we can lay in the grass and go.”

Everyone went back to the earth anyway, right? You had no desire to be thrown in a hole and covered in damp cold dirt. If you had to decay, you wanted to be on the soft grass, under the sun, even under the rain. You wanted the wildflowers to eventually grow through the cracks of your skeleton, just as you had seen done with other animal carcasses. You’d let the bugs find shelter in your bones and you’d let the foxes nibble at you. Maybe it would stop them from eating all of Daryl’s rabbits.

“I mean it…I don’t wanna go alone. Never mind how it takes me, I just wanna go with you.” The hope that your eyes once shined was now overshadowed by the tears that formed in your waterline. Daryl swallowed the lump that formed in the back of his throat. “C’mere.” He opened his arms to you, providing you the comfort you desperately needed.

Now with your rambling seemingly done and your body against his, Daryl thought.

“Alright.” Was all he said. Though it wasn’t a typical alright, it was serious. You pulled yourself up from his chest and looked to him with a cocked eyebrow, “Alright?” You questioned. “Yeah.” His demeanor confused you, seconds ago you were spewing words of fantasy, words of love and death, but now he seemed a little too serious on the matter. “What do you mean?”

“Means I wanna do it.” He spoke with his face close to yours, eyes locking into your own, so so close. “Imma build ya a home. Might take a little bit but I promise I will.” With his promise, you closed the sliver of space between you. You had kissed him many times before but there was a new feeling to the gentle urgency his lips met yours with. You could feel the fear of fate melting away in the softness of his kisses and you felt the desire for a peaceful future replace it. And that peaceful future tugged at your lips and ran its fingers through Daryl’s hair.

But most of all there was now a promise. A promise that you’d build together, love together, be full together, and eventually…you’d rot together.