#his mind realized he already was everything he needed to be

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗔𝗰𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗕𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗨𝗽 𝗮𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 | 𝗛𝘆𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗣𝘁𝟭

Warnings: None

Hyung Line x Reader. Angst.

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ᗷᗩᑎGᑕᕼᗩᑎ

The dim glow of the studio lights reflected off the stacks of equipment, casting long shadows across the room. You leaned against the doorway, watching Chan furiously click through different tracks on his laptop, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. The clock on the wall ticked past 2 AM, but for him, it seemed like time had no meaning. He’d been working on this track for hours, refusing to take a break even when you’d suggested it earlier. "Chan," you called out softly, but he didn’t respond. The constant hum of the music filled the space, his mind completely absorbed in his work. You sighed, stepping into the room, stifling a yawn. “You need to relax,” you said, a teasing tone slipping into your voice. “You act like the world’s gonna fall apart if you don’t finish this track tonight.” His hands stilled on the keyboard. The playful smile you wore faded when he didn’t respond. You took a step closer, placing a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off, pulling away as if your touch burned him. “I’m serious,” you continued, your voice softer this time. “You’ve been at this for hours. Just take a break. It’s not healthy to push yourself like this.” Chan’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might snap back, but instead, he closed his laptop with a slow, deliberate movement. The air in the room seemed to thicken, tension radiating off him in waves. “You don’t get it,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. You blinked, surprised by the edge in his tone. “What do you mean? I’m just trying to help.” He stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back with more force than necessary. He still wasn’t looking at you, his gaze fixed on the ground, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "You think I don’t know it’s not healthy?" His voice was low but filled with barely restrained frustration. "I don’t have the luxury of taking breaks whenever I feel like it." Your heart sank at the bitterness in his words. You opened your mouth to respond, but he wasn’t finished. “Every time I stop, every time I take a moment for myself, I fall behind. I have responsibilities, expectations-” He finally looked up at you, his eyes dark with exhaustion and something deeper, something raw. “I’m the leader. I’m the one holding everything together.” You felt a lump form in your throat as you realized how deeply you’d misunderstood the situation. You had meant your words lightly, but they had triggered something in him - something he had been keeping bottled up for too long. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you whispered, taking a cautious step toward him. He looked tired. Oh so tired. And while you were more than sure people had seen his tiredness, you knew that they weren't aware of even the fraction of exhaustion he was feeling now that you were looking at it from two feet away. “I just…I didn’t realize how much pressure you were under. I mean I was aware, but I didn't think it was to this extent.” Chan let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t realize because I don’t show it. I can’t afford to.” The room was suffocatingly silent, the weight of his confession sinking in. You had never seen him like this- — so vulnerable, so... broken. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I don’t appreciate everything you do,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “I know how hard you work, Chan.” He shook his head, his expression distant, as though he were already miles away from you, even while standing right there. “Just... leave me alone,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion as he turned away from you, walking toward the door. “I need to finish this.” You wanted to reach out, to pull him back, but the look in his eyes had warned you against it. There was a wall between you now — one you hadn’t meant to build but had somehow erected with a few careless words. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you standing alone in the empty studio, your heart heavy with regret and a sinking feeling that you’d hurt him far more than you’d ever intended.

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ᗰIᑎᕼO

It had been a long day, and as you and Minho sat together in the living room of your apartment, the remnants of dinner still scattered across the table, you found yourself in one of those easy conversations where words flowed without much thought. You both had been teasing each other, poking fun at small quirks and habits, but then you said something - a single sentence that changed everything. "You can be so cold sometimes, Minho." You laughed. It slipped out so casually, but the moment the words left your mouth, you knew you had made a mistake. The room seemed to freeze, the playful banter dying on your lips as you watched Minho’s expression shift. His face went from light-hearted to something unreadable - his eyes darkening, his smile fading into a thin line. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, and the silence in the room grew suffocating. "Cold, huh?" His voice was quiet, almost emotionless, but you could feel the tension building in him, like a storm just waiting to break. He traced his index finger around the mug in front of him. You immediately tried to backtrack. "I didn’t mean it like that. I was just-" But Minho cut you off, standing up abruptly from the couch and turning his back to you. "No, I get it," he said flatly, his shoulders stiff. "You think I’m cold." The way he said it, so detached and hollow, made your stomach twist with guilt. You had known Minho long enough to realize that, behind his sharp exterior, he was someone who felt deeply, even if he didn’t always show it. But now, it seemed like you had confirmed his worst fear - that people only saw the distant, guarded version of him. "Minho, wait," you pleaded, standing up and reaching for him, but he took a step away, avoiding your touch. "Don’t," he said, his voice sharper now. "If that’s how you see me, then fine. I don’t need to hear more." You watched helplessly as he walked toward your bedroom, his posture rigid, shutting himself off from you with every step. The sound of the door closing echoed through the apartment, leaving you standing alone in the living room, your heart sinking with the weight of what had just happened. The thing about Minho was that, while he came across as tough and indifferent to most people, you knew there was a part of him that feared being misunderstood. He was always careful with his emotions, keeping them tightly locked behind that sarcastic, cool demeanor. It was one thing you loved about being with him, that you were one of the only ones who knew him well enough to see behind that exterior. To know and see him so deeply to know his true self; one that he didn't show everyone. But tonight, with one careless comment, you had struck right at the heart of his insecurity. And it hurt you that you did that. Hours passed, and the tension in the air didn’t lift. You tried knocking on the bedroom door, offering a quiet apology, but he never answered. It felt like a wall had sprung up between the two of you, one made of all the sharp edges he used to protect himself from getting hurt. That night, you lay awake, replaying the moment over and over in your mind, each time wishing you could take back the words. You had never seen Minho so distant, and the thought that you had caused it filled you with a gnawing guilt.

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ᑕᕼᗩᑎGᗷIᑎ

It had been a tough day, the kind that leaves you exhausted to the core. Changbin had just gotten back from the studio, a heavy frown weighing down his usually bright expression. You could tell something was off the moment he walked through the door - his usual energy dampened, his movements stiff, almost mechanical.

You had asked him about it, but he shrugged it off with a noncommittal, “Just tired.” Still, you could feel the tension radiating from him.

Later that evening, as you both sat in the living room, watching a movie that neither of you were paying attention to, you tried again to break through the silence. Changbin was scrolling mindlessly on his phone, his jaw clenched.

“You seem really down lately,” you said gently, looking at him from across the couch. “Is everything okay?”

He glanced at you, his expression guarded, but still didn’t say much. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

You weren’t convinced. “You don’t seem fine. You’ve been so quiet lately.”

And that’s when you said it - the words you immediately regretted.

“You’re always talking about how hard you work, but maybe you should take a break. Sometimes it’s like you think you have to prove yourself constantly...but you don’t.”

It wasn’t meant to hurt him. You had said it because you cared, because you had watched him work himself to the bone without ever showing any signs of slowing down. But the moment the words left your lips, you saw Changbin’s entire demeanor change.

His fingers tightened around his phone, and his eyes narrowed as he set it down on the coffee table. When he looked at you, his gaze was sharp, defensive.

“What are you trying to say?” he asked, his voice low, though you could hear the edge in it.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I just mean...you don’t have to push yourself so hard all the time.”

His jaw clenched tighter, and suddenly, the air between you felt heavy, charged with something you couldn’t quite grasp. Changbin sat up straighter, folding his arms across his chest as he stared at you.

“You think I’m overcompensating or something?” he asked, his tone colder than you’d ever heard from him. “Like I’m not good enough, so I have to try harder?”

You were stunned by his reaction, your heart starting to race. “No, that’s not what I meant-” You stuttered.

“Then what did you mean?” he interrupted, his voice louder now, almost confrontational. “Because it sounds like you think I’m not doing enough. Like I’m not enough.” You froze at his tone.

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had never seen Changbin like this - defensive, hurt, and shutting you out. He was usually the one with the most confidence, always sure of himself. But now, it was as if you had shattered something inside him, something you didn’t even know was fragile.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you said quickly, your voice faltering. “I just- I know how hard you work, and I worry about you.”

Changbin stood up, his movements tense, as if trying to escape the conversation. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room. His frustration was palpable.

“Worry about me?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “You have no idea what it’s like. You don’t get it. Everyone expects me to be this - this strong, perfect version of myself. If I stop for even a second, I feel like I’ll fall behind, like I’ll fail.”

You stood up too, reaching out for him, but he took a step back, creating more distance between you. His words cut through you like glass, the raw emotion behind them catching you off guard.

“I never said you were failing, Changbin. I just-"

“You didn’t have to,” he snapped, his voice filled with a bitterness that made your chest ache. “But that’s what it feels like. Like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough. And now you’re telling me the same thing. The one person I would think wouldn't tell me that!”

His eyes were dark, filled with frustration and hurt. The walls he had carefully built around himself over the years were crumbling, and you were standing in the wreckage, helpless to fix it.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your lip trembled. “I’m sorry.”

But he wasn’t listening. He turned away from you, his hands gripping the back of a chair, his knuckles white with tension.

“I need to be alone,” he muttered, his voice hollow. “I can’t do this right now.”

You watched him walk away, your heart breaking as the distance between you seemed to grow wider with every step he took. The sound of the bedroom door closing echoed through the apartment, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, your heart heavy with regret.

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ᕼYᑌᑎᒍIᑎ

You hadn’t meant to upset him. The last thing you wanted was to make Hyunjin feel small or inadequate, but somehow, in the middle of a conversation that had started so innocently, you said something you couldn’t take back.

The two of you were sitting at the kitchen table after dinner, an empty bowl of ice cream between you as you talked about the latest art exhibit he’d visited. Hyunjin’s eyes always lit up when he talked about art - it was a passion that fueled him just as much as music. But tonight, something was off.

He had been unusually quiet the whole evening, his usual spark dulled. You had noticed it right away but thought maybe he was just tired. Still, the longer the silence stretched, the more concerned you became.

“Is something bothering you?” you asked gently, reaching out to touch his hand.

Hyunjin sighed, looking down at your intertwined fingers. “I don’t know. It’s just...I’ve been feeling a little off lately.”

You tilted your head, urging him to continue. “Off? How?”

He hesitated, biting his lip before finally answering. “I’ve been feeling like...I’m not as good as everyone thinks I am. Like I’m just pretending to be this perfect version of myself. When I see other people’s work, especially in art, I can’t help but compare myself. I feel like I’ll never be able to reach that level.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, and you wanted to reassure him, to tell him how talented he was. But instead, without thinking, you said, “You don’t have to be perfect all the time. No one expects you to be.”

His expression shifted, his brows furrowing as he looked at you, and you realized too late what you had just implied.

“So...you...think I’m not good enough?” he asked, his voice quieter but laced with hurt.

Your stomach dropped. “No, baby, that’s not what I meant-”

“Then what did you mean?” His tone grew sharper, and you could see the cracks forming in the carefully constructed mask he wore. “Because it sounds like you’re saying I’m not living up to everyone’s expectations. Let alone yours.”

“I just meant you’re already enough,” you said quickly, panic rising in your chest. “You don’t need to push yourself so hard.”

But Hyunjin wasn’t hearing you. He stood up abruptly, the chair scraping harshly against the floor as he began pacing around the room. His long fingers ran through his hair in frustration.

“Do you know how hard I try?” His voice wavered, a mix of anger and sadness. “Every day, I’m fighting to be better, to live up to the image everyone has of me. People look at me and expect me to be this flawless, beautiful person who has everything figured out. But I don’t! I don’t have it all together.”

You stood up, following him as he paced. “Hyunjin, I know you-”

“Do you?” He turned to face you, his eyes dark and filled with an emotion you couldn’t name. “Because it feels like you think I’m not good enough either. Like I’m just pretending.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. The Hyunjin you knew - the sensitive, artistic soul who poured his heart into everything he did -was unraveling before your eyes, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

“That’s not true,” you insisted, your voice trembling. “I think you’re incredible. I just-”

“Then why does it feel like you don’t believe in me?” His voice cracked, and for the first time, you saw tears glistening in his eyes. “Why do I feel like I’m constantly failing?”

You were at a loss for words. Every attempt to reassure him seemed to make things worse, and the walls he had put up between you were growing taller by the second.

“I never meant to make you feel like that,” you whispered, your own tears threatening to spill over.

Hyunjin shook his head, his jaw clenched as he tried to hold himself together. “I just...I can’t do this right now. I need space.”

The finality in his voice made your heart break. He turned away from you, heading toward the bedroom, leaving you standing in the kitchen, alone and devastated.

The silence that followed his departure was deafening, and as you stared at the empty space where he had stood, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had just lost him for good.

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@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

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@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

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[empresskylo]

trigger warning: age-gap, dub-con

john price knowing how wrong it is to think one of his sergeant's daughters is attractive.

he knows that when your father brings you to base one day, showing you around, he shouldn’t be looking at you the way he is. but the way you wore such a cute little skirt, exposing your soft legs, fuck, he found it hard. and the cute little bow you wore in your hair. he knows that shouldn’t be doing it for him… but it is.

and fuck, you’re way too young for him. how old did your father say you were? in your twenties? way too fucking young for the likes of him. and off limits. but when you give him a big smile, introducing yourself, he knows he shouldn’t have called you “doll.” the way you get shy at the pet name. fucking hell, he knows everything running through his mind is wrong.

he knows it’s wrong when he bumps into you as you find yourself on base rather often. how his hands linger on your back as he rights himself, the way you flush under his gaze, struggling to hold eye contact. and he definitely knows he shouldn’t be wondering what kind of underwear you have on. does it have a little bow? or are you wearing a lacy thong?

when you wander into his office one night, your father working late, he knows he should ignore you, ask you to leave. but he doesn’t. his eyes follow you as you stroll around the room. he knows he shouldn’t spin toward you in his chair as you approach, asking him innocent questions. he knows it’s wrong when he stands up and begins explaining the answer to you and you innocently move to sit on his desk. oh, and he definitely knows it’s wrong when he sits back down in his office chair, trapping you, your legs dangling off his desk in front of him. he sees the way you stutter, get all choked up at the close proximity.

he knows he shouldn’t take advantage of you, the way your lips part when his hand touches your exposed thigh. when you mumble “c-captain—?” confused at what he’s doing. he shouldn’t keep going, shouldn't want to elicit more bashful sounds as you struggle to compose yourself. knows he shouldn’t spread your legs in front of him, making your eyes widen. shouldn't grab your knees, pry your thighs apart. “what’re you—?” he knows he should have stopped then, but he didn’t. his fingers were too fast, finding the softness of your panties, stroking your core through the fabric. he had been waiting so fucking long for this. you were plaguing his thoughts. he didn't have a choice.

and you should have gotten up and ran out, but you didn’t. your legs fell a little more open for him, never imagining your little crush on your dad’s boss to amount to anything. and when price’s eyes go dark, his mind reeling with how you’re actually letting him touch you, you whimper.

and that was the end of price’s control (if he had any to begin with). everything else be damned. he no longer cares if it was wrong. he didn’t care that you were forbidden fruit. fuck, he had to have you. needed to have you. wanted to hear you make more sounds, and how your hand flew to your mouth to muffle the noises, embarrassed. “don’t go shy on me now, sweetheart.”

and when he pushes your pink panties to the side, letting his thick fingers slide into you, he groans. “so wet f’me?” he clicks his tongue. that’s when he realizes how badly you’ve wanted this too. how an older man who knows what he’s doing has enticed you. bet you’re wondering what it’s like to be with someone whose not some clumsy boy. but a man who cares about your pleasure above his own.

you gasp as he picks up speed, his lips tipping up as your eyes flutter. “feel good, sweetheart?” you nod vigorously, making him chuckle.

when his fingers leave you, you pout. “ever do this before?” he asks. your embarrassed reaction is answer enough. no, you haven’t. and that shouldn’t have made him groan. shouldn’t have made him stiffen even more in his already tightening pants. fuck, you were so innocent. and he was going to ruin you. ruin you for any other man.

so when he has you laying back on the desk, his cock in his hands, notching it between your thighs, he promises to go slow. you’re just so tight. “fuckin’ hell,” he curses when you flex around him. “this hurt?” he asks you, a bit out of breath.

you nod and he gives you a little kiss. “jus’ let yourself get used to me, doll. relax. there you go, atta girl. let me in, sweetheart.” he grunts as he bottoms out. your arms wrap around him and you whimper, feeling so stuffed.

he knows he should stay slow, let you take your time. but he can't. no, he thrusts into you, ignoring your yelps, and then he's done for. he keeps a steady pace rocking against you, already so close knowing no man has ever done this to you before, he remembers he never locked his door. the way his desk is bumping against the floor, someone might come in to investigate. and that someone could be your father.

he’d see his little girl, shirt shoved up to her chin, skirt hiked up around her waist, her arms wrapped tightly around his captain whose at least 15 years her senior as he thrusts into her, making her moan, taking her virginity roughly against his desk.

price knows he should tell you to quiet down, to not make so many noises, but all your little cries and mewls are sending him closer to the edge. his fingers find your clit and you mewl. you gasp and struggle to breathe, the sensation of everything so overwhelming. “gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

“i-i think so,” you stutter, tears streaming down your cheeks. he picks up his pace, his hips slamming into yours, his hand groping your breast roughly, sure to leave bruises. “that’s it, sweet girl,” he praises as he feels you tightening around him. feels your walls spasm. and when you finally orgasm, your body shaking under his weight, he spills himself inside you.

and he knows he should have pulled out. knows he should have used a condom. but he didn’t. in some sick twisted way, this was his way of claiming you. and you did so well letting him fill you up. your ankles tighten around him as if you don’t want him to leave. so he doesn't stop himself from spurting ropes inside you, the white liquid seeping out around his shaft.

you sit like that for several beats, arms grasping at him, clawing him against your chest, before he chuckles. “gotta let me go, sweetheart. don’t worry, i won’t go anywhere.” your legs fall away from him, realizing you are holding him hostage.

he groans when he pulls out, the way you leak all over his desk. he shouldn't enjoy that sight, the way you're laying languidly on his desk, out of breath, shaken up, his come dripping out of your weeping cunt.

but he does know he should help you up, clean you with a spare shirt he finds in his office. adjust your skirt and shirt so they sit properly again, your arms weak and limp at your side. kisses your forehead and tells you how good you did for him. tips your chin to look up at him, "really?" you ask, eyes hopeful and full of life.

"such a sweet girl," he coos, guiding you out of his office. and he knows your father won't have a clue. won't even notice the way you limp slightly as you walk. probably thinks his captain is so nice leading you through base, keeping you company while he works late.

and price knows he shouldn't do this again, shouldn't even think about doing it again. but you were just so good to him. so perfect as you let him have his way. your tiny gasps, the way you clawed at him, how tight you were. he wasn't sure he was strong enough to hold himself back.

cod masterlist

[ryescapades]

can i request narumi x gojo like reader (like extremely overpowered and yk gojo stuff 😝) because ur dazai fics are just mwah! could they be and captain and they're vc is like suguru :>

thank you !!!!

limitless | kaiju no. 8

characters: narumi gen x gn gojo!reader

contents: sniper!reader, attempt at humor, fluff, some OCs, a lot of made up plots bcs this fic wouldn't exist otherwise (feels like i was world building ngl), reader's division number is not mentioned, narumi appears like in the second half of this, hint of rivals(?) + idiots to lovers

a/n: i hope i did your req justice, tqsm nonnie! lmk if you're satisfied with this or not (bcs im kinda not) almost made reader and their vc become a doomed yaoi couple just like satosugu 2k wc

"ehhh, another mission?"

your vice-captain, akira rolls her eyes at your grumble. "yes, another mission, captain. the higher-ups have requested for us to be there as soon as we possibly can, for the location is said to be in an uptown city of tokyo, a few hours from our base, so we ought to dispatch early," she explains.

"blegh, i bet the old man shinomiya is laughing at me right about now. we literally just returned from a mission like two days ago, akira! he sure loves working us to the bone!" you complain as your hand continues to work, cleaning the glass lens of your sniper rifle's scope.

akira throws a flat look. "maybe because we're the only unit in the defense force that specializes in kaiju intelligence? dummy," she says pointedly, causing you to wave her off. "nah, semantics."

she sighs, shaking her head. "in any case, we need to get ready now. we have to be on the move in about half an hour," your vice-captain's words go into one ear and out the other as your mind drifts away, thinking of how you can possibly sneak away to buy some nice treats while in tokyo.

hm, preferably those ringo apple-custard pies... your mouth waters at the thought.

less than five hours later, you find yourself strutting in the hallways of the ariake base, with akira following close behind.

"how many times do i have to remind you to tell me first if you wanted to make a detour mid-way," akira pinches the bridge of her nose, and you pout slightly. "i didn't even take that long, mind you!" you argue, though the way you dust off the sweet pastry crumbs off your lips doesn't really give the impression that you sound apologetic at all about it.

"captain, you keep forgetting that we have a meeting to get to. you should try to be more considerate towards others' time, you know?" she chastises, making you shrug dismissively. "you're too uptight about everything, akira. loosen up,"

already used to your petty remarks, akira crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at you. "what was that? you wanna take this outside, y/n?" the way she drags the syllables of your name daringly has you smirking, eyes glinting dangerously as you flex your hands. "oh yeah? and what if i say yes?"

what both of you don't realize is that you've walked far enough to reach general shinomiya's office, the sound of the double doors opening snapping off the tense rope that connects your challenging gazes together.

the two of you straighten up awkwardly, whistling a mindless tune and fixing your uniform respectively to pretend like you weren't about to start a scuffle just a second ago.

hasegawa, the one who had opened the doors raises an eyebrow curiously when he sees you and your vice-captain. "seems like they're already here, general shinomiya." he announces over his shoulder before giving a respective nod and taking his leave.

as you enter the office, general shinomiya gives you a long, pointed look. "you're late." your nose scrunches at the comment, "only by fifteen minutes. chill out, old man."

"what they mean to say is—" akira immediately speaks up, frustrated at your lack of manners, but shinomiya isao raises a hand with a shake of his head to interject. "never mind that. we have more pressing matters at hand,"

as he drones on and on about the details of the mission, you're barely listening to any of them when one particular statement catches your attention.

"do your surveillance for at least two days before you clean up and come back to report. i'll send in narumi as well for some extra hands."

like a puppy hearing the sound of kibble food being poured in its bowl, your head perks up in interest.

seems like this mission won't end up being a bore, after all.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

"akira... i'm bored,"

you can almost hear your second-in-command's teeth gritting against each other. "that's the sixth time you've said that, captain." she says, her voice crackling through your earpiece. "wait, really? maybe i should say it another time—"

"please, don't." she interrupts with a huff. "you don't know how many nights i've spent wondering how your impatient ass got this job,"

you're about to counter when a new voice chimes in through the comms, "they're good at this job, that's why." a smile grows on your face at the statement. "ren, of course! this is why you're everyone's favorite," you cheekily say.

your operations leader snickers at the quiet but still audible vomiting noises akira is making. "i'm flattered, captain. but i do agree with vice-captain akira. given how our division is all about stealth and patience, it is quite the surprise someone like you sits at the top," ren muses.

you click your tongue, the small 'tch' sound only providing more amusement for your two subordinates. "you deserve a headlock for that, ren."

be that as it may, you are indeed good at your job. appointed as the captain of a special intelligence unit for the defense force, your division is tasked to undertake any job that requires kaiju surveillance, where you discreetly observe and study the behaviors of these monsters, especially the new species before subjugating them once your task is completed.

where do you think all those official kaiju encyclopedia books and websites get their information from?

your missions are all basically just field trips, to be frank. you command officers who are specifically trained in stealth and espionage, with your sharp sniping skills second to none in the defense force.

your beloved vice-captain, the talented officer that she is, unluckily holds the job of patrolling the perimeter and taking care of any kaiju that happens to stumble upon where your sniping port is set up. can't have the sniper getting jumped now, can we?

pulling your eyes away from the scope, you mindlessly tap away on the side of your sniper gun. "anyways, how's captain narumi doing?" you ask.

the division has very few recruits every year, due to the fact that not everyone can master the perfect form of stealth and spying when it comes to such untamed creatures. with the unit being the only unique one, your officers are often dispatched at various locations at the same time.

thus, the subjugation after the observation is usually carried out with the help of other divisions. and that's where narumi comes in.

or rather, he actually does come in. like, legit.

"worried about me?" the man himself steps into the empty room of the desolated building you're currently positioned at, his bayonet held close to his side. your brows quirk in amusement at the question, "yes, actually. i was worried your... extravagant method of killing kaiju is going to get us spotted sometime soon,"

narumi feels his blood thrums in his ears. he doesn't know what it is about you, but every time the two of you interact, he just gets frustrated and bothered. how are you so... infuriating?

"excuse me? i know perfectly well how you handle your operations, thank you very much!" he exclaims.

"oh? is that so, akira?" you inquire into your earpiece, wanting to poke fun at the first division captain further. he tenses slightly as he's reminded of his recent kills.

a big tease just as you are, akira hums, "well, i certainly heard him gloating with the other officers after his first kill earlier. he was probably doing his usual egosurfing after that... and the second kill was obscenely loud too. and then there's the—"

"okay, i think they get it now, vice-captain." narumi cuts her off in a snap, crimson hues dusting his cheeks. you smirk, about to make another retort when ren's voice intervenes you.

"emergency, captain! there's a kaiju about less than two kilometers away from the town!" your pupils flare in alarm just as akira voices out her surprise, "wait, what? there shouldn't be any of them so close to the human settlement. is it a stray?"

without focusing on ren and akira's discussion, you sling your sniper over your shoulder and head out of the building, "i'm going after it," you announce.

as you walk past narumi, he grabs your arm to stop you. electric sparks jolt underneath the material of your suits and into your skin, though neither of you seems bothered enough to acknowledge it. "there could be more than just that one. i'm coming with you," he insists, unaware that he's leaning into your space to get his point across.

what is it with him and needing to be closer to you? narumi can never figure out the answer to that even if he was aware of it in the first place.

you didn't expect him to suddenly be all up in your face like that, so your hand automatically shoots out towards him, a palm splaying over his chest to hold him back. realizing how weirdly intimate the touch is, you move to pull away but your hand unconsciously lingers, dragging itself down the metal chestplate of his suit before finally retreating in a matter of seconds.

the loss of contact nearly burns you from the inside out, and you hate admitting that it's not in a bad way. not at all, not ever. something about narumi gen just flares you up deliciously, and you're more than happy and willing to crash into this man's blazing inferno.

perhaps you're just as hopeless as he is in that regard.

with a shrug, you throw a sanguine grin at him over your shoulder, "even if you weren't here, narumi, i can handle them just fine. this is my forte, and i'm the strongest one here." shivers run down the back of his spine, the knowing glimmer in your eyes almost making him visibly and audibly swallow.

he doesn't doubt that sentiment. not at all.

narumi knows how strong and skilled you are. if ashiro mina is known with her extremely explosive power, you're known with your hawk's eye trait. you're good at predicting just exactly where the kaiju's core is supposed to be, courtesy of the years of meticulously studying the monsters.

'how am i different to ashiro? hm, let's see... to put it simply, ashiro is the type to spam her high-damaged gun. like a reaaally offensive dps, you see. while i prefer to go with that one shot one kill style,' you'd often say. as a chronic gamer himself, he understood that crystal clear.

as the two of you exit the building and make a beeline towards the direction of the town, a few kaiju that you had surveyed just a few minutes ago turn their heads in attention when they hear your rapid footsteps.

your annoyance rises when they start advancing towards you, all feral eyed and inhumane. "sorry but i really don't have time to waste on small fries like you," you mutter as you take out your handgun.

the next thing narumi knows, their cores are precisely struck with your bullets, including the kaiju whose humongous tail almost swiped at you two from your common blind spot, one which he could've taken out. with his RT-0001 retina, he was less than one second away from handling it!

"oh, would you look at that! i saved your ass, narumi! ain’t i just the best?" you boast, causing his imaginative feathers to ruffle. the respond he's about to give doesn't get to come out, as you manage to irritate him even more.

"by the way, don't you think you should slip in some more trainings everyday? you play enough games as it is. at this rate, you're gonna get weaker than me, you know?" you remark before swiftly skipping away, your tongue sticking out in jest and leaving narumi to deal with his own agitation.

you're literally a menace in narumi's eyes, but his curiosity is boundless. as he moves to follow after your tracks, he keeps asking himself why he just cannot seem to stop wanting to get know you more.

nah i'd win, *dies immediately after*

ps i love when gojo made that digimon ref in s2 he's such a nerd pls. also there's like one hidden ow2 ref in there somewhere. like using pharah and widowmaker in regards to the difference between ashiro and reader

taglist: @maruflix @iamjellyfish @ouiouimochi @yueliie @justwinginglife @lumiambrose @minasfwoopyponytail @17020

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[terukotime]

allow me to be super delulu for a second

if either Eden or Ace are the actual killer, that would mean one of them would be saying their secret quotes in the next coming episodes. but...do we really feel like the situation warrants them saying what their quotes are?

Ace's is: "I don't know what to do with myself anymore."

Eden's is: "You can't go back, no matter how hard you try."

Ace's feels a little strange to say in the trial. we're very close to unearthing the real culprit, and if Ace really is the killer, when would he say that? immediately upon being found out? the quote itself has their air of melancholy and defeatism, and even at his lowest, we know Ace isn't someone to concede or go down without a fight. and if he knows he's about to die, what's the point in saying "I don't know what to do with myself anymore" when he's not even going go be alive in the next few moments? He WON'T be doing anything with himself anymore, he'll be dead.

Eden's, while not as strange of a thing to say as Ace, is also kind of peculiar. when would she say it? while she's admitting to the murder? if Eden did it, sure, it's believable that she'd feel some regret, but the setup to her being the killer feels very odd now that we've gone through this big emotional moment between her and Teruko. honestly, after all that, if Eden really is the killer, i'd be more inclined to believe she WOULDN'T regret killing Arei. it'd seem like her crying and pleading was all just emotional manipulation. it also seems strange to me that Eden would have already had it in mind to kill Arei when she and Teruko found Ace, and took the opportunity to steal the tape to carry it out. i could definitely be wrong, and please correct me if i am, but i think the attempted murder was the same day as what happened with Eden and Arturo? honestly, even if it wasn't, it just feels weird to me that Eden would find some way to disguise her handwriting, set up a murder method even more elaborate than Nico's original version, and then do the whole trial pleading and sobbing for people to believe she didn't kill her and actually have regretted her actions. that shit is so premeditated that everything Eden has done thus far feels like immense emotional manipulation. while that could still be possible...it's not really that satisfying, i'd say. who knows, maybe i'm in severe denial, but i just think this characterization of Eden would be really weird. it would feel less like a betrayal of "man, this character i liked turned out to be awful", and more like a betrayal of "man, this character i liked has made a 180° in their personality without any foreshadowing of having a darker side to them".

and i'm just still really hung up on Hu. her secret quote, "I want to pay for what I've done. But even then, I still want to live." makes total sense in the context of this trial, especially after her secret reveal. and while it's pretty unlikely she took the tape from the gym, there's no guarantee that the person who took the tape at the time HAS to be the murderer. i'm just still hung up on the fact that it feels like there needs to be one last, big twist before the true killer is revealed. a moment where Teruko comes to her realization and the culprit is selected before she makes any actual accusation against them. we already knew Eden and Ace would be the ones Teruko was going to interrogate in the selection because of her explanation. just given how drdt has been written thus far, i feel like they wouldn't hand the potential answer to us like that so easily. like we wouldn't get to the point of selecting the culprit with the story already telling us it can only be one of two suspects.

it's entirely possible that i'm just coping and am refusing to accept that one of my favorite characters is actually the culprit. or that drdt could have a trial that isn't greatly written. it's totally fine if i'm wrong and Eden or Ace really is the killer, i definitely won't enjoy it much but it's not my story, nor would it completely make me drop drdt.

i honestly just needed to rant LMAO. this episode left me with a LOT of feelings.

[enchantedflameandflower]

Gavin x Reader Part 6!

Morning nuzzles before breakfast…

I had a request to post an update and I had only a bit of editing left so here we go, I hope this brightens your day!

co-written with CheshireCatSmile

@kus-babygirl @shirley-girly @jynx15 @everchar-of-the-shire @scraftsku35

@vavafaure1994 @deathlesun @sickforbillybutcher @butchers-girl @hippo2211

@ariadne-27 @bohemianblasphemy

karl urban masterlist

direct link to part 1

part 5

warning: very brief mention of past bad relationship

6.

Gavin shifts to start unzipping his sleeping bag. You move a little so he can take yours too and zip them together, shivering again, but this time because of the cooling air. “And you’re sure you don’t mind I come with a whole truck load of baggage?” you ask. It wasn’t your plan to get involved with anyone but it feels so good to have someone actually seem to care about you. But you don’t think you can handle being hurt again.

"I have baggage myself. I usually rush headlong into everything, but...this…I want to build something special. If you do, too.”

You nod and bite your lip. You know there’s so much more to him than what he thinks and you’ve always admired his determination and strength, even if he made mistakes in the past. Some never do anything for themselves and only tear others down and in your opinion that’s far worse than his faults. The rain is still tapping on the tent and nothing sounds better than curling up with him. When the sleeping bags are joined, you slip in and stretch out, watching him, and not minding the glimpse of his strong masculine legs as he moves around.

He slides into the sleeping bag beside you zipping it up so you're both inside tucked away cozy and warm. He has an innate heat coming from him and you can't help but be drawn to it. When he gathers you into his arms you can't help just melting against his body. 

"I can't believe how perfectly you fit against me,” he murmurs low and soft.

You bury your face against the soft henley covering his broad chest, making a quiet little sound. He’s right. Nothing has ever felt like this before. You want to say something back but you’re already drifting off and within a few moments you’ve fallen asleep. At first you’re not sure what disturbs you, but then you realize a low roll of thunder from off in the distance sparked a nightmare that woke you and for a second you can’t remember where you are as your body jerks awake.

Gavin’s arms tighten around you and he murmurs, his voice gruff with sleep. "It's alright sweetheart; you're safe. Just a bad dream. I've gotcha."

You blink rapidly in the dark, but Gavin’s low voice makes you remember immediately where you are. You take a breath. Safe, in his arms. And he feels so good. You close your eyes but your heart is still beating fast and you know it’s going to take a minute before it starts to slow.

"That thunder's just gettin’ to you, that's all." Soon the rain starts a steady drumming on the tent's thick canvas roof.  His large warm hand begins rubbing your back soothingly.  "I can still feel your heart pounding sweetheart. You don't need to worry. I'll keep you safe.” You can feel his breath warm and ruffling your hair lightly.

His hand on your back feels so good. You feel like you already know him so well and know you’re safe with him. After awhile you fall asleep easily again and sleep better than you have in years. When you wake, your face is buried against the curve of his neck and before you realize what you’re doing in your half asleep state, you nuzzle there softly against his skin.

A low hum comes from deep in his throat and he tightens his hold on you again, dragging you close to his body.  "Mmm...that feels good. darlin’. A sweet thing to wake up to." He rubs at your back again then rests his hand on your hip, squeezing softly, steady and warm.

You freeze for a moment as you wake fully and realize what you’re doing. Slow. Slow, you tell yourself again. With 5 more days of this trip left alone with him though you have a feeling that is not going to happen. Every part of him feels so good and you feel like if that big, strong hand started sliding under your shirt right now you would be nothing but exuberant. 

Carefully you shift back a little so you’re not completely on top of him and take a breath of the crisp morning air trying not to think about the two of you naked in this sleeping bag. But suddenly you remember what had happened during the night. Your cheeks heat as you think about how silly it was to have nightmares and be scared of thunder. “Sorry about last night,” you murmur softly. “My ex broke in once, before I moved…so sometimes I’m a little on edge at night, I guess.”

He's quiet for a long moment. "That's awful. I didn't realize how much you'd been through. No woman should have to live with that kind of fear. You certainly don't need to apologize." He presses his lips against your forehead in a tender kiss.

Your eyes sting with his kindness, it’s overwhelming to you and you don’t really know why you told him that, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. You nod mutely and take a breath then slip away from him to stretch tight muscles. “I suppose we should get going.”

He catches your eyes with his own as you look up at him. There's still a myriad of emotions there but something you recognize as…respect? "I can't believe what it must have taken to pull yourself together and pick up to start a new life someplace completely different. That's incredibly brave."

You shrug a little but a small smile tugs at your lips. “I didn’t really have a choice. So I just kept going. But thank you.” His hazel eyes swirl with color and you could get lost there forever if you let yourself.

“You're among friends now. And we don't take kindly to anyone trying to hurt one of our own."  He glances up at the top of the tent. I suppose you're right...we should get going while we have a break in the weather." He looks back at you and smiles softly then tucks your hair behind your ear gently.

For a moment all you can think about is pulling him back into bed on top of you, but instead you turn your head to kiss his palm. “What’s for breakfast?”

He chuckles as he shifts to unzip the sleeping bags.  "A girl who keeps sight of the important things in life." He gets up from the warm fabric and quickly pulls his jeans on. "I'll go get coffee started."

In a short time, as you're pulling yourself together for the day, you smell the heavenly scent of coffee wafting into the tent.  "Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes, " he calls into the tent.

You pull your sweatshirt on and shift to climb out of the tent. Sitting in the open doorway, you pull your boots on and look up to find Gavin crouched by the fire, his jeans molded around his ass and you end up staring as you tie your laces until suddenly your stomach grumbles.

He looks over his shoulder grinning at you. "Sounds like last nights dreams worked up an appetite." He beckons you over to the fire and hands you a plate with pancakes and bacon and you wonder how the heck he managed that and coffee too so quickly.

“Oh my gosh,” you smile. “How did you do all this?” He pours some syrup over your pancake and you take a big bite, humming appreciatively. It’s really good. “It’s amazing Gavin, you’re going to spoil me…”

He smiles at you. "Maybe it's time you had some of that in your life." He sits down beside you and takes a bite of his own pancake. Even the campfire coffee is good. His leg is just barely brushing yours as you sit beside each other.

“Mmmm I love bacon…” you murmur, and he’s cooked it perfectly, crisp and hot. Then you pick up your camp mug and sip the dark coffee slowly, savoring then flavor on your tongue. “You better be careful or I might just show up at your house every morning,” you joke.

"Now that's a pleasant thought," he chuckles and winks at you. He's quiet then for a moment. He looks at the fire and says softly, "Though it was nice having you in my arms when I woke up this morning." The way his voice drops low makes you want him with every fiber of your being.

“It was very nice,” you agree, a little breathless. “Except for the thunder I don’t remember the last time I slept that well.” Your mind drifts back to the night before, him pulling you close and kissing you like he couldn’t get enough. You wonder if you can get a replay of it tonight.

Breaking your thoughts, he leans toward you and steals a quick, soft kiss before getting up to quickly take care of the breakfast dishes. He pours the last of the coffee into your mug and smiles at you then continues with his task, drying everything and putting it away in his pack. “I'm going to take the tent down, you just enjoy your coffee."

“Gavin, really, you should have at least let me clean the dishes,” you sigh softly knowing that’s going to be an argument you’re going to lose. But you figure you might as well accept it for now and settle back to enjoy watching him. “I owe you one.”

"I'll keep that in mind," he says with a charming grin that causes his dimple to show. He's so efficient tearing down the tent and packing everything away in his pack. You at least rinse your cup and dry it off to hand to him before gathering up the few things you still have to pack.

It’s not long before you are all packed up and you head out a bit further to survey more of the land that will be part of the cut and then off to the west so you can document the saplings from 3 years ago. It was late midday when the clouds started to roll in again. “Maybe we should have headed to our next camping spot sooner,” you comment, but you really wanted to get all that work done.

"Yeah...there was another area a little farther in I wanted to take a look at too. If you don't mind spending a little extra time...I know you probably have work piling up. But if it’s okay with you?"  He studies you a moment then walks over and adjusts your pack on you so the weight is more even.

“Oh, I don’t mind at all. We have our raincoats after all. I should be able to get a cell signal at the cabin to answer a few emails, but I won’t have any trouble catching up on work when we get back. I know you wanted to make some repairs at the cabin as well and I can work on the reports.”

"Okay, that sounds great. Ready?" He caresses your cheek softly before turning to start up the trail. After hiking steadily for about half an hour he stops and pulls an old map out of a pocket and studies it a moment. "I think it's this way," he catches you when you start off too quick and stumble over an old root system from the ancient adjoining trees. He holds onto you a little longer than absolutely necessary then makes sure you have your footing and starts off again.

This time he takes your hand in his, warm and strong and steady and you almost melt. You walk for a little bit longer until he finds the spot but you realize you are near a ridge and you go over to find an amazing view over a valley of evergreens below.

"It's beautiful isn't it? Now...I think there's a meadow...oh, right here! It should be right...oh my God, it's real!"  

~.~.~.~

Next up: a little bit of magic enhances the romantic atmosphere ❤️ Let me know what you think!

[jsmelodies]

Cassian thought it was supposed to be simple. 

Find the witch in the woods.

Convince said witch to give him Ataraxia.

Rescue the princess from the dragon guarding her tower, with said sword, from said witch.

If only the damned witch stopped getting in his way.

Written for @nessianweek Day 5: Behind Closed Doors

Because nothing says behind closed doors like getting to know a witch in the middle of the woods with no one around.

Read here on ao3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Cassian had a long time to think on the ride back to the palace. Once he cleared the thicket of the forest, he urged Ruby to go faster, settling into an easy canter for the remainder of the journey.

The sun was just beginning to hit the tips of the castle spires when he made it to the city streets. The children paused in their playing in the streets to watch him ride through the gates.

Ruby let out a snort as he slowed them down to a walk, and he flashed his typical easygoing grin to the children. For the first time, though, that smile felt ingenuine. 

Women gave him shy smiles as he rode by, nothing like the stern look of that witch in the forest. He hadn’t even gotten her name.

You want me to find you worthy? I don’t.

Was all of this just a lie? All of the years hoping he could be something better—something greater. What if he’d just deluded himself? What if he wasn’t worthy at all?

No one paid him any mind as he rode in. He wasn’t beat up like Kallon was, so there was nothing interesting to see. Cassian approached, sliding off of Ruby with one smooth movement.

Rhys and Azriel were already done for the day, placing their dulled practice blades back on the rack and leaning against the stone of the palace wall.

“I take it you didn’t have much luck,” Az said, noticing his frustration, and the lack of a princess on his arm.

Cassian considered not telling them the truth. He considered saying that he searched the woods all day without a single trace. But, he sighed and said, “I found her.”

Rhys frowned. “What happened? Can you remember?” he asked.

“Yeah, I remember everything. I messed up and insulted her. She struck a nerve, so I…”

Azriel watched him with an arched eyebrow. “You what?”

Cassian winced, knowing how what he was about to say would sound. “I may have implied that she didn’t have a soul.” 

Azriel let out a long, long breath. “Yeah. Alright, so you fucked up pretty badly.”

Cassian slid his gaze to Rhys, who had a singular eyebrow lifted.

“How important is this to you?” Rhys asked, his voice contemplative.

“I need to make it right.”

“Yeah, if there’s any chance of you getting that sword-”

“No,” Cassian said, cutting him off. “Regardless of that. I need to make it right.”

An honorable man wouldn’t have said what he did. And if by some chance he did, then that man would apologize. Rhys’ mother ingrained that lesson into him when he was just a boy.

He hadn’t meant what he said. It was all spoken out of anger, but it wasn’t okay. 

Cassian knew what he had to do.

***

He set out again the next morning. The witch wouldn’t try to kill him, he didn’t think. At least, not after he apologized. And he would apologize.

The ride through the forest was short, and his heart beat quickly in his chest for the entirety. 

He remembered the route back to her cottage with perfect clarity. She must not have spelled him, or whatever it was she did to Kallon, because he was able to follow the same path to her cottage, that thread pulling him along faintly.

It was almost like she was waiting to see what he would do.

He took a deep breath as he reached the edge of the line of trees, attempting to clear his head before he faced her again.

His eyes fluttered shut for just a moment. He could do this.

“I’ve asked you to leave. I won’t do it again.”

Cassian was dragged out of his daze by the words, and he opened his mouth, prepared to defend his presence, when he realized they weren’t directed at him at all.

Another man stood in the clearing, hulking and in full metal armor, like he expected a fight. Unfortunately, Cassian recognized that armor. Tomas Mandray. He stood with his sword raised, ready to attack.

The witch was in her doorway, clad in the cloak from yesterday, gripping it firmly around her body. As if that cloak was her own form of armor.

The woman didn’t deserve this. It didn’t matter what Cassian’s opinions were, or anyone else’s for that matter. She deserved to exist without fear of being harmed or killed.

As a knight to the kingdom, he would ensure she could.

“Tomas. That’s enough,” Cassian said, making the last few steps into the clearing.

“What are you doing here?” Tomas asked, sneering. 

They’d never gotten along, only ever exchanging stiff pleasantries before both going on their way. He had a feeling this conversation would not even come close to being that.

“The same as you, I imagine,” Cassian said, getting off his horse. “I’m here for the sword.”

A lie. Well, partly. 

“Then you understand the witch needs to die,” Tomas said. “They’re a blight on our kingdom, and need to be killed.”

The look on Tomas’ face, however, implied that wasn’t where his intentions ended. Cassian felt the rage bubbling under his skin, that if he hadn’t shown up, the witch might have been forced to deal with that.

“You don’t need to kill her,” Cassian said. “She’s just minding her own business. Leave her be.”

“Whatever,” Tomas said, turning away from Cassian, raising his sword once more.

The witch retreated back inside a step, but it was enough for Cassian to see that she was well and truly terrified.

Before he knew it, he’d moved and his sword was at Tomas’ throat. He would kill him, one of his fellow knights, if it came down to it.

“I won’t say it again,” Cassian said with a low voice. “Leave her alone. Take one more step towards that door, Tomas, and I’ll make you wish you hadn’t.”

The other knight’s eyes narrowed. “Whose fucking side are you on?”

“There are no sides. I just have basic human decency.”

It turned out his intervention was unnecessary, however, because the next moment Bryaxis had jumped in between Tomas and Cassian, hissing up a storm.

Tomas took a single step back, raising an amused eyebrow. “What’s her stupid cat going to do?” he muttered to himself, aiming to kick him aside with his foot.

Somehow, Cassian knew before it happened that it had been the wrong thing to say. Bryaxis shifted into a snarling beast with long, sharp claws that curled into the ground. In a moment, his teeth were as long as Cassian’s forearm and he stalked towards Tomas, black fur bristling on his neck and back.

Bryaxis stood almost three times taller than the man, and he looked ready to tear Tomas’ head clean off of his body.

“Oh, fuck,” Tomas said.

He held his sword out with shaking hands, prepared to fight. At least, until Bryaxis roared in his face.

Then the coward ran. He dashed back towards his horse tied to the edge of the clearing, Bryaxis snapping at his heels for the first few steps.

His horse’s eyes were milky white with fear, and she reared, yanking Tomas so hard that Cassian thought his arm might be pulled out of his socket.

Tomas yanked the horse back down. “You stupid beast!” he seethed, climbing up onto her back and digging his heels into her side until she uneasily started running through the trees.

Cassian would have let out a sigh of relief, if getting rid of Tomas was the only challenge he faced. But Bryaxis turned, still in his beast form, and eyed Cassian and the sword still at attention in his hand.

Don’t mind Bryaxis. He doesn’t bite, unless you do first.

Praying that the witch had told him the truth yesterday, he dropped it, raising his arms placatingly. “I, uh, I don’t want a fight,” he said. 

Bryaxis prowled closer, his breath smelling like a rotten carcass. When was the last time the woman cleaned his teeth? Did he even allow her to clean his teeth? 

Bryaxis huffed in Cassian’s face, and heat prickled at his ears. But then Bryaxis stepped back and sat back on his haunches, letting out a small groan. Within a few seconds he shifted back into a cat, weaving through Cassian’s legs and purring once more.

It didn’t set him at ease. His heart still hammered in his chest. Now he knew what had left Kallon in such a state only a few days ago.

It was safe to say that he had no intention of getting on Bryaxis’ bad side anytime soon.

“So,” he said. “Not a cat.”

The witch hummed anxiously, her eyes on the treeline. He took a deep breath as his heart settled, then he dared to approach her in the doorway.

“Will he remember?” Cassian asked, as she watched Tomas disappear.

“No,” she said, her voice distant. “He’ll forget almost everything as soon as he’s about a mile out.”

“Bryaxis took a long time to step in,” he commented. It was a question, of sorts, of why the witch had the cat wait.

She merely sighed. “I knew him once. I wanted to see if he’d changed. Apparently, he hasn’t.”

If it was even possible, Cassian hated Tomas even more—for crimes that he wasn’t entirely sure that he’d committed yet. Something about this woman had him coming to her defense, even though he was the last person who should.

He’d insulted her, and she probably wanted nothing to do with him. Even still, he wasn’t going to leave her with the likes of Tomas, Bryaxis or no.

She was rattled, that much was clear. As much as the rest of her was an unrelenting fortress, it was her eyes that gave her away—wide as they continued to watch the spot that Tomas disappeared through, not an ounce of silver anger to be found.

He needed to get her mind off it, off him.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said softly, laying a hand on her wrist. “Let’s go inside. He’s not coming back.”

It was instant, the way everything shifted. That nervousness shifted to indignation. Fear to bitterness. 

Cassian loved storms. As a boy he’d stay up listening to them rattling the windows, streaks of lightning spreading across the sky. Something about them soothed him while scaring others, and he felt safe listening to the long rolls of thunder.

And she was one, staring him down with pure electricity. She could strike him down with one single blow if she wanted.

Silver returned. There she was.

“I don’t recall extending you an invitation.” Yesterday, her words hadn’t been so distant. Short and snarky, yes, but there had been an undertone of sly amusement before he’d well and truly messed everything up. “I thought I told you to leave yesterday.”

“You did.” 

“Then why are you here?” she asked.

Cassian still didn’t know exactly what he’d say once he got here, and convinced her to listen to him. But he needed to say something.

He thought back to Tomas leaving, and the comment she made when he did.

“You said you wanted to see if Tomas had changed,” Cassian began. “So? Do you think a man can change?”

“What are you getting at, Sir Cassian?”

“It’s just Cassian.”

She let out a small huff, and asked again, “What do you want, Cassian?”

“I came to apologize,” he said. He could feel her watching, studying him with those pale blue eyes that he wanted more than a mere glimpse of. “How I spoke to you was out of line, and I’m ashamed of it. I’m sorry.”

“Anything else?” she asked. “You came all the way out here just to apologize?”

“Nothing else,” he said. “I am truly sorry.”

Her lips set into a line as she thought. The seconds ticked by, and he had the suspicion that she would tell him to leave again. Would once again call him unworthy.

But then, she did the last thing he expected. The set of her shoulders relaxed, and she gave him the tiniest dip of her chin in acceptance.

“I respect a man who can admit his mistakes.” 

She took in a breath, as if she were considering saying something else, but then she let it go. “Come inside. You’re helping me today.”

And that was that. Cassian spent the rest of the morning doing as the witch instructed, chopping and scraping and grounding until his hands were sore. He found that he didn’t mind, that it was nice to put his sword down for a little while. 

While they were cleaning up, Cassian couldn’t help but wonder. He asked the question before he could think better of it.

“What does this matter to you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Why do you care who the princess marries?”

“You’re moving into dangerous territory,” she said. “Remember what happened yesterday?”

“Answer it anyway,” he said, “You know her, don’t you?”

“This is how you wish to win me over?”

“Not really, I was just curious.”

For a while, he didn’t think she’d answer. 

She handed him some mushrooms from the other side of the clearing, asking if he knew how to cook. He sighed and brought down a pan from the rack he ran into the day before, assuming the conversation was over.

The mushrooms and a few other vegetables spit and popped in the iron pan, and the witch was happy to watch as he cooked for both of them.

While his back was turned, she said, “I do know her. We grew up together.”

That hadn’t been what he was expecting her to say. He didn’t know why he imagined her growing up solely in these woods, outcast from society. Ignorance, maybe.

“You grew up in the castle?”

“You could say that.”

The answer roused a much longer list of questions, ones he didn’t think she’d be willing to answer.

Who are you, that you know the princess so closely? Why distance yourself out here? Just…why?

“Who are you?” he asked. He moved the now finished vegetables to the side, approaching her at the table. 

“No one you would know,” she said.

She loved to evade his questions, he realized. Or, possibly, there was something about opening up to him that absolutely terrified her.

“Can I look at your face?” he asked.

She didn’t seem to like the idea of that, letting out a huff and leaning back in her chair. “I think you’ve seen enough, haven’t you?”

“I don’t think I have,” he said. 

She didn’t make a sound. 

“If you’re no one that I know, it shouldn’t matter, right?”

She didn’t outright deny him. Instead, she seemed to ponder over what he said, and she stood and took hesitant steps forward until she was right in front of him.

“You can’t tell any of the others what you see,” she insisted.

He felt it in the air, how vulnerable she was allowing herself to be. He’d make sure he never gave her a reason to regret it.

“I won’t. I swear it, on my honor.”

She inhaled sharply, then gave him the slightest nod in permission.

He took the edges of her hood in his hands. Even before he brought it down, he could almost see what was underneath. But when it was down fully…

He couldn’t say a word. Not when the angles of her face were so striking, when her beauty was so absolutely devastating that Cassian thought he might crumble.

Just as he suspected, perfect, golden brown hair framed her face, and her eyes were the most enchanting shade of blue-gray. She was young, perhaps a year or two less than his twenty four. And as embarrassing as it was to admit, Cassian had a purely male reaction.

He simply couldn’t speak, unless the word was one syllable and absolutely meaningless. So he didn’t.

This woman would be his undoing. He couldn’t come back again, because who knew what strings they would pull if he did. Whose bed they might end up in, what bridges they couldn’t uncross.

No. It had to end today. As much as he hated it, it had to end today. The witch had her life, and he had his. 

He resisted the urge to reach for her, instead barely managing to keep the fabric of her cloak between his fingers.

“See? Nothing to look at,” she said, being the first to break away.

Cassian disagreed.

***

In the late afternoon he found her on the edge of the fenceline, a book in her hand while making a practiced motion with her arm.

She was speaking softly, repeating the same phrase over and over, and he could see the soft glimmer of her magic taking hold on the perimeter of the property.

Her magic—he didn’t have words to describe it. It held a silver shimmer, and when it concentrated it almost looked like silver fire.

She was warding, he realized. He didn’t know why he expected something else.

“You have defensive magic,” he said.

She paused in her incantation, and the silver fire faded in small wisps. “That surprises you?”

“If I’m speaking honestly, yes,” he said. “Witches don’t have the best reputation.”

Thankfully, she didn’t get upset by it. She merely asked him another question.

“Yet you came to my aid. Why?”

Her eyes met his, the setting sun making her hair look like molten gold. “Because I don’t know the whole story.” 

He added, “And I want to know it.”

She stood there like a queen, watching him with proud eyes and a stance that he’d seen time and time again with his fellow warriors.

He had to admit, she was striking. He’d seen a lot of beautiful women, but she surpassed mere beauty. She was everything strong and fierce and commanding, and he couldn’t for the life of him explain why he was so drawn to it.

She must have seen something true in his face, because her next words were, “Come.” 

Cassian made his way over until he was standing at her side. He stood close enough so that he could see the drawings in the book over her shoulder. Now that he was next to her, now that she let him closer, her voice turned softer. Not by much, but enough that he could tell that she was trying to connect with him in her own way, by sharing something precious to her.

“So little of what I do revolves around curses and jinxes. Most of what I do is this, and healing,” she explained.

“Do you ever perform those?” he asked.

“Would it make you think differently if I said yes?”

“I think it depends.”

She returned her attention to the book, not looking at him as she said, “I only sell those if it’s necessary.”

Cassian didn’t know what to do with that. All he had were the stories—of good men being cursed with misfortune, with no discernible cure in sight.

She went silent next to him, as if she was expecting the worst. 

Maybe she had a good reason. Maybe she deserved the benefit of the doubt. He’d assumed poorly yesterday, and that had blown up in his face, making him say things he regretted.

Today was a new day. He could choose not to believe the worst in her, and maybe she might do the same.

So he said, “Will you show me what you’re doing?”

The witch let out a soft breath, as if his lack of condemnation meant something to her. She held up the book a little closer so he could see.

“I need to draw the rune with my magic, and say the incantation,” she explained. “The drawings here are for practice. They don’t do anything.”

He looked over her shoulder, having to stop himself from reaching over and tracing her immaculate drawings with his finger.

As he pressed up against her, he resisted the urge to settle his hand on her waist. That would be entirely inappropriate. Her breath hitched as his chest brushed against her, a sound so lovely that it was pure music to his ears.

He cleared his throat. “So, you draw it in the air? And it just works?”

She chuckled. “Something like that.”

She pointed to one of the runes on the page she had open. “This one makes a shield. It’s strong enough to discourage unwanted attention from the men that show up on my doorstep.”

“I was able to walk in.”

She said without pausing, “Your attention was not unwanted.”

She could have locked him out without a second thought, after their fight yesterday. Yet she let him come back inside and apologize.

His mouth parted, then closed, but she continued on. “It’s not impenetrable, though. If any do get past it, that’s what Bryaxis is for.”

Like with Tomas.

“You’re trusting me with all of this?” was the only thing he could ask. A lesser man could sell out this information, leaving her for dead.

“I am,” she said. “Because I do think that under all that arrogance, and bravado, there is a good man. One that I don’t think would betray my confidence.” 

She turned, so that her chest was almost touching his.

Almost.

“Am I wrong?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t do that.” 

“I know,” she said simply.

Cassian shook his head. “I just don’t understand. You’re giving me the benefit of the doubt, when I have done nothing to deserve it.”

Her eyes softened. “You did the same for me,” she countered. “You put down your sword yesterday, and today, when most other knights wouldn’t hesitate to attack. That means something.” 

“That should be common courtesy.”

She shrugged. “It isn’t. It’s why I let you inside, and why I allowed you back today.”

“Your bar is exceptionally low.”

Her lips curved upwards. “Perhaps.”

She brushed a strand of her hair behind her delicate ear, and Cassian tracked the entire movement, not able to look away. “I’m sorry, too,” she said.

“For what?”

“For saying that I think you’re unworthy. I was angry, but I shouldn’t have said what I did. I believe you may be the most worthy of them all.”

Hope fluttered in his chest. “So, you’ll give me the sword?”

And just like that, it was gone—that moment of vulnerability between them dissolved. Her gaze hardened, and she turned away.

“You can’t marry her. My answer is the same.”

He remained silent.

“I know that’s why you came back. Why you…apologized to me in the first place,” she continued.

“I came back to apologize because I was wrong,” he said. “You hit a nerve, and I lashed out. But I do want to marry her.”

“You don’t know her. How can you marry a woman you don’t know?”

He didn’t have an answer to that, but he insisted, “I would be good to her.”

Her silence was a long one. “After what I’ve seen, I don’t doubt that. But my answer is no.”

She didn’t look his way again, returning to her warding. Her voice was quieter now, almost remorseful, as if she expected him to say something harsh.

He wouldn’t repeat his mistakes.

He stalked off before he could say anything he’d regret.

***

Her golden hair fell down until it tickled against his chest. She moved on top of him, naked and glistening, shaking as she took exactly what she needed from him.

The muscles of her thighs clenched around his waist as she let out a long moan, orgasming around him and slumping forward.

“Cassian,” she whispered.

He pulled her onto him, desperate to chase his own release.

“I–” he tried to say her name desperately. But it wasn’t there on his tongue, as much as he wanted it to be.

He was close. He was–

Cassian woke with a jolt, sweating as he sat up in his bed. His pulse threatened to explode in his throat, and he combed his now damp hair away from his face.

“Fuck.”

***

Before he could question what he was doing, he was saddling Ruby up yet again and making his way through the village.

Never mind that he’d sworn he wouldn’t go back. He told himself it was because there was still a chance he could change her mind. Yes. He could work with that.

The witch was tending to her garden, pulling weeds and gathering herbs into her basket when he arrived.

Her hair was pulled into a messy braid over her shoulder. He was hit with the urge to pull that braid apart, weaving her hair through his fingers as his dream came back to him in full force—the sound of her moaning on top of him, and the silver that blazed as she came around him.

Stop it.

He offered her his usual smile, and she pursed her lips in what he could tell was mock annoyance.

“You came back,” she said.

“I did.”

“My answer isn’t changing.”

“I think you’ll find I can be rather convincing.”

Play with me, he thought.

She seemed amused, if anything, and said, “I suppose we’ll see.”

They moved inside, the witch cleaning the dirt off of her hands. “You still don’t know her,” she said, pondering. “I do wonder how you intend to fix that.”

He dared to say, “And if I came to get to know you?”

She let out a huff of laughter. “Then I would say you were foolish, and to not return.” She gave him a knowing look. “But you haven’t said that, have you?”

He knew what she was truly saying. As long as they didn’t acknowledge it, she would play along. She’d let him come back.

“No,” he agreed. “I haven’t.”

But even still, her eyes glimmered. “Do try to change my mind, Sir Cassian. I’m curious to see what methods you employ.”

He almost smiled at her then, but before he could, the witch froze, looking distantly over his shoulder through the window.

He turned to see what she was looking at, but she didn’t let him.

“Don’t,” she snapped, stepping up and stopping him with a hand to his chin. It was stupid for his gut reaction to be that this was the first time she had touched him willingly. It was like he was a damn teenager all over again, desperate for any form of touch.

She was pressed fully up against his chest, her breasts pushing into him, and he blinked as he tried to pretend this was the most normal thing in the world.

Foolishly, he thought she might kiss him. But that was the lust-addled part of his brain speaking, for the witch then dragged him along and shoved him into a closet, hissing at him. 

“Do not, under any circumstances, leave this room unless I tell you to. And do not try to look.”

The door slammed in his face. He fell back into the clutter and scowled as something jammed into his arm.

She rustled around the cottage, clearly looking for something while muttering under her breath, before the cottage door opened.

There were two sets of creaking footsteps. Another feminine voice filled the room. They talked for a while, most of the conversation indiscernible, but he could pick up a word every now and then.

They were talking about a man, from what he could understand. Cassian leaned back, trying not to listen.

It didn’t work entirely. The second woman started crying, and the witch’s voice turned soothing, more so than he’d ever heard it.

“Here,” the witch said. “This will help. And if it doesn’t, you know where to find me.”

He heard the muffled sound of crying for a few more minutes, along with the occasional murmur of encouragement from the witch. Then the gentle croak of the door as the witch led the woman outside.

Once the door was closed, he heard the long, frustrated sigh that came afterwards. Then the door to the closet opened, the witch standing on the other side of it.

“You can come out.”

Cassian stumbled out of the dark closet, coughing up dust as he knocked over something wooden on the side.

The witch looked tired, her normally bright eyes dull and weary. Seeing this woman, whoever she was, had taken something from her.

“Who was that?” he asked.

“She doesn’t want anyone to know,” she said tiredly.

“She was crying. And you calmed her down.”

A muscle ticked in her jaw. 

“I know you men find this hard to believe, but I am not a monster,” she snapped at him, letting the bite leak into her tone. “Just because you all don’t have sympathy doesn’t mean I don’t, either.”

“I never thought you were,” he said honestly. After yesterday he thought they’d made some progress. But he was forced to admit that there were likely still misconceptions, on both their parts.

He didn’t know where the second half of what she said came from. But she’d been patient with him, so perhaps he could afford her the same courtesy.

“And I know it may still take some convincing, but I’m not one, either.”

He gave her a few seconds to calm down. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes while she sunk into a chair.

“No. I know you’re not,” she said, softer. “I’m sorry.”

He’d already forgiven her. 

He asked, “How did she find you here?”

“Anyone who needs me can find their way here with ease.” She waved her hand. “Magic.”

He had to admit, that made very little sense. But Cassian wasn’t a witch. He wasn’t well-versed in how their magic worked, or the intricacies of it. He was willing to learn, though.

He thought about how he’d just known where to find her, how he’d felt guided somehow. That string in his chest had brought him here, not just once, but three times.

Was that her magic? Or had it been something else? Fate, perhaps?

Cassian pushed those questions aside.

“Why does she come to you?” he asked.

The witch considered his question for a long moment before answering. “Some knights beat their wives. Take them against their will, too. Did you know that?”

That wasn’t what he was expecting her to say. He blinked.

He knew it happened. Though the knights in question never talked about it openly, for it was shameful to treat a woman like that, it did happen.

“I do.”

“You asked me yesterday if I perform curses and jinxes. I give them to the women who ask for them, and those that need them desperately. No one else.”

“And for the women who really need it, I help them escape,” she said. “Them and their children, if they need to.”

Not a soulless witch at all, he thought. He felt a lot of things then. Guilt for assuming and for his ignorance, and a newfound respect for the woman.

Her magic was beautiful. It healed and protected, which was a far cry from the stories and the warnings he had been raised on. Hell, even stepping into the clearing gave him a sense of peace that he now didn’t know how to live without.

“That’s very brave of you,” he said, his tone soft and serious.

Curiosity sparked in her gaze for the first time in this conversation. 

“What is bravery to you, Sir Cassian?” she asked.

“Just Cassian,” he said.

The corner of her mouth lifted. “Answer the question.”

Bravery was protecting those who needed it. It meant putting himself in between a beast and a child, risking himself so that others had a chance at safety.

He said as such. 

The witch gave him a small smile. “Bravery isn’t all swords and slaying beasts,” she said. “Do you understand?”

He’d never thought of any alternative. But after hearing that woman cry on the witch’s shoulder, and knowing that she was going to return to her husband…

It made him sick. He’d always known it happened, but had turned a blind eye because it simply wasn’t talked about.

Maybe there was more than one type of bravery, and more than one type of feat to be celebrated. 

What if there was more to being a hero than he thought?

For ages, he’d thought this forest was home to only monsters. But maybe not all monsters lived in the woods, and maybe not all heroes wore shining armor and lived behind palace walls.

Maybe one of those heroes was here, living among the beasts. As he looked at the witch’s face, he could see it. This woman was brave and honorable and charitable, and everything he wished to be. And she hadn’t slain a single monster in her life.

“I think I’m starting to.”

***

Her answer never changed. Not that he expected it to.

He was supposed to go rescue a princess, but this woman looked like a queen in her own right. And sometimes it was all he could do to stop himself from bowing at her feet and swearing fealty.

He found himself obsessed. There was no logical explanation for it. Cassian returned the next day, and the next, and every time the look on her face was a little less surprised. Every day, he grew a little bit less sure of his purpose. Of his destiny.

“Why do you keep coming back?” she asked. “You know my answer.”

“I don’t know.”

Because there’s something about you that keeps drawing me back. Because I can’t stay away. Because I want to know what your hair feels like between my fingers, and the way your name sounds on my tongue–

He forced himself to stop thinking about it. No. He couldn’t fall for the witch. That would be a disaster of epic proportions. He didn’t even know her name.

Never mind that he had come to love the silence of the woods, the only sound being the music of the wind darting through the trees and the babbling of the small creek across the clearing. Or that they so often fell into a gentle companionship that had Cassian staring in awe, watching her furrowed brow as she muttered spells and put together her potions.

He was merely…fascinated. And she was fascinated with him, too. That was all it was. She’d forget all about him once he fulfilled his quest, and then he’d go back, the princess in hand, and…

That unsettling feeling sunk in his stomach again. He’d never forget her. He didn’t know if he ever could.

“Are you staying for dinner?” she asked.

Her question broke him out of the cycle of his thoughts. She’d come inside from the garden carrying a basket of vegetables. He nodded, and she moved to go place the basket on the counter.

When she walked by him, though, he grabbed onto her wrist, forcing her to stop. 

“Tell me your name?” he begged.

Her gaze fell to where he held her wrist, then her gaze softened as she returned it back to his face. “My name is Nes.”

“Nes,” he said, sounding it out.

Somehow, it was perfect.

***

They stopped talking about the princess entirely. 

Cassian helped in the garden, or wherever she instructed him to. He learned that she loved music, and loved to dance when she was able. He wanted to bring her to the great hall someday to dance with her, although he didn’t say that, because he knew she would shut him out afterwards.

And she learned with great joy that he knew how to cook. She’d watch from the table, smiling softly as she pretended she focused on her notebook, but they both knew the reality of which they would not speak of.

She answered his questions. He answered hers. Slowly she opened up to him, and they both said nothing about the afternoons when she accidentally fell asleep on his shoulder while he read her books that were dirtier than he could imagine.

She listened as he told stories of him and his brothers growing up, and she smiled fondly as she spoke of her and her sisters. They had an interesting relationship, from what he could tell. She always avoided telling him any details about them, never even mentioning their names, which he found slightly odd.

She stopped asking why he was there, because internally they both knew that the answer had changed. So she didn’t ask, and he didn’t admit to anything. 

Knights came by every so often. She always shoved him in the cottage when they did, and he watched from the corner of the window as she wrapped her blue cloak around herself.

Most tried to attack on sight. Once Bryaxis shifted, only a few of them ever continued to hold up their sword. Oftentimes they went running, just as Tomas did.

Tomas was the only one that had rattled her, it seemed. He didn’t push, but she seemed grateful every time he asked if she was alright when she came back inside.

Stragglers came by sometimes, too. People who required her healing services, or a special potion or spell. Once she was drawn back to the city to help with a woman giving labor, and Cassian found himself back at the palace for the rest of the afternoon with no idea what to do with himself.

Today, Nes had him collecting larger stones from the edges of her clearing to place in her garden bed. He cupped water from the stream when he was finished, letting it wash away the sweat on his face, before heading inside.

Nes was struggling to reach a plate at the top of the cabinet.

“This damned…dish,” she muttered to herself, on the very tips of her toes, looking like she was about to fall over.

“Here, I’ll–”

He leaned into her space to grab it for her, his arms reaching high up. He pressed against the back of her body, and he felt every single curve up against his chest.

She seemed to realize the position they were in at the same time he did, slowly turning to face him.

She didn’t push him away. Instead her lips parted, barely an inch, and her hands tightened on the edge of the counter behind her.

Nes didn’t move as he pressed in closer, only a few inches away from her. He lifted her chin with his fingers.

There wasn’t a sound. In the pure serenity of the cottage, there wasn’t a single sound, save for the soft exhale from Nes as Cassian leaned even closer, and the slight rustle as the wind tapped on her glass windows.

Cassian didn’t know who closed the rest of the distance first. But before he could question what he was doing, his lips were on hers, soft and tentative as he explored. He gave in to his fantasy, bringing her golden hair between the pads of his fingers and inhaling her scent.

Honeysuckle. Loveliest when it bloomed in the secrets of the dark, sweet in its own private paradise. Somehow she bloomed out here, in a place with no light. Somehow she made it her own, made this dark corner of the world a little more lovely.

He shouldn’t be doing this. But that first brush of her lips had him deciding that he simply didn’t care. 

He didn’t care.

Whatever consequences came of this, he’d face them with honor. He couldn’t resist it anymore, this growing attraction that had turned to full blown lust and possibly even more.

Her fingers curled on the leather on top of his shoulders. He swallowed her gasp with his lips, pushing her open even further with his tongue, desperate to taste more.

Nothing mattered, if it meant he couldn’t have her at least once. Even if once was all they had. He’d selfishly let himself have a taste before their paths no longer had a reason to cross.

His hand cupped her breast, perfect and full in his palm. He pulled her up against him, letting her feel the growing desire he had for her, and her mouth parted as she let out a moan.

It was music to his ears. A symphony.

“I want you. Now, sweetheart.”

“I want–” she said, in the second between kisses, pulling him to her with anything her hands could grip. “Cassian.”

“Nes.”

She pressed her hips into him as he kissed down her neck, guiding her head back from where he held her hair with his other hand.

He brought that delicate skin of her throat between his teeth, nipping slightly, but not enough to bruise. She shuddered, exposing herself to him even further as he made his way down to her chest.

He was struck with it then. A taste never would have been enough. He would have found himself on the precipice here, time and time again, caught in a web he’d never be able to escape.

He wasn’t certain he’d ever want to escape.

“I’m taking this off,” he said. His hands circled around to the back of her gown, meaning to undo the laces. 

That was her line drawn in the sand.

Nes jolted, gasping as she broke apart from him and latching onto his wrists with her hands, seemingly remembering who they were and why, exactly, this was a bad idea.

“Wait.” Her hands tightened around his wrists. “Stop.”

He did instantly, pulling back to check on her. Her entire face was flushed, lips glistening. Her eyes were wide.

“Nes?” he asked, softer.

“I-” 

She didn’t have to tell him her heart was hammering. He could sense it, convincing himself he could feel it through her palms.

“Have you done this before?” He had to ask. Given that she didn’t invite anyone in here, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that she hadn’t.

But she scowled, thankfully taking away that wide-eyed look, and said, “Of course I have.”

“Ok. Still, we don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with,” he said slowly. “I’m sorry that I took liberties.”

He didn’t move a muscle as she leaned back. He monitored her every movement and facial expression, but she’d gone nearly unreadable.

Her hands still held his own with a death grip. With a blink she released them, in turn placing her shaking hands on his chest. 

“It’s getting dark,” the witch said. “You should go.”

It wasn’t getting dark. He’d stayed much longer only two days ago, only going back when the sun dipped behind the line of trees surrounding the clearing.

He didn’t want to go. 

“I should?” he asked. 

“Yes.”

He brought his hands down to her, stroking them softly. Nes tensed and moved back, and he immediately regretted it—doing something that made her uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s fine. You did nothing wrong. I did want it.”

She still couldn’t look at him.

“Nes,” he said, watching the shudder go through her from him saying her name. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Right,” she said, her voice sounding like an echo. “Tomorrow.”

***

When Cassian arrived the next morning, the witch was waiting for him.

He’d barely slept the night before, tossing and turning as he thought about their kiss. The way she felt in his arms. How she said his name.

How she stepped away.

The gold of her hair once again made its way into his dreams, and he found himself being awoken by the sound of her name falling from his lips.

Nes.

Something was different today. It was quiet this morning. The chattering was merely a whisper as he left the palace. No humming filled the clearing when he arrived, and the birds didn’t chitter in the way they normally did.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say there wasn’t a soul to be found. But Nes was here, waiting for him. He knew that before he even walked inside.

He ducked his head under the doorframe to find her curled up in a chair by the window, her gaze set on the floor.

“Hi,” he said, offering an awkward smile in an attempt to break the silence.

Nes remained silent, keeping her eyes cast down, bringing her blanket tighter around her.

That uneasy feeling returned. Something was definitely wrong, he could tell. Cassian didn’t think he messed up too badly last night. She’d said she wanted it as he left. He shifted his weight to his other foot as nerves got the better of him.

“About last night—”

“The sword is on the table,” she cut in, not letting him finish. “You can take it.”

A glance confirmed her words. A large broadsword neatly sat on the table, gleaming in a way natural silver didn’t. He opened his mouth to protest, but his throat had gone dry. He couldn’t speak.

This was supposed to be what he wanted. Wasn’t it? It was why he told himself he was coming back every day, even if he knew it was a lie.

“You wanted to be worthy of a princess? Well, there’s the sword. I’ve deemed you worthy.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Silence fell. Then he said, “I don’t understand. Are we not going to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” 

He took a step forward. “Really?” he asked, with a soft calm. 

Nes glared at him. “I thought this was what you wanted. What other reason could you have for being here?”

Cassian stared at her incredulously. “You know that I’ve been coming here because–”

“No,” she said, cutting him off. “Don’t. I told you not to do that.”

What had she said that one time? That he would be foolish if she was the person he was coming to see. She had told him. And he’d stupidly gotten attached anyway. Tears threatened to burn in his eyes, and as he stared at the sword, he couldn’t help but wonder.

Didn’t she know? Didn’t she know how she now haunted his every thought, his every dream?

Her voice went softer, but it was still firm. “Take the sword, Cassian. Present it to the princess. You’ll have everything you’ve always wanted. You’ll have fulfilled your destiny.”

It felt wrong, leaving her. But he met her unflinching eyes one last time. Nothing softened in them. Nothing gave him any indication that she would change her mind.

“This is what you want?”

“I want you to be happy.” She swallowed, and looked away. “You deserve all the happiness in the world, Sir Cassian. Go and find it.”

“Cassian,” he said. “It’s just Cassian.”

“Right,” she said. But even as she said it, he knew. His name would never fall from her mouth again. Once he left through that door, she’d never have a reason to say it.

He didn’t want to walk through that door.

“It has been an honor, my lady,” he said quietly, before taking the sword she offered and tearing his eyes from her for the last time.

Cassian walked through the door.

[honeybelleee]

Stabbed, You’re Next!

| Chapter Two |

Synopsis

When Y/N's best friend, Wonyoung Jang, is brutally murdered after uncovering a corruption scheme involving the school's staff, Y/N finds herself pulled into a dangerous game. With only a cryptic email and a folder of incriminating evidence, Y/N must team up with Wonyoung's boyfriend, Mingyu and a tech-savvy loner, Jake to expose the truth. But as the body count rises, Y/N realizes the conspiracy goes deeper than she ever imagined-and the killer is always one step ahead. Trust no one, because in this game, anyone could be next.

Pairings

Jake Sim x F!reader (It will progress rily slow)

Genre

Mystery, thriller, crime, heavy angst, slowburn fluff

TW

This story contains themes of violence, murder, and death, including graphic depictions of a stabbing and blood. It also explores corruption, fear, and grief, as the characters deal with loss, danger, and being stalked by a killer. Themes of paranoia and emotional trauma are present.

Notes

First fic posted on tumblr, ignore the details of the text messages places (its unorganized)!

Extra - This is going to be a half smau!!

Prev - Masterlist - Next

____________________________________________

It was 2.30 AM on a Wednesday, I wiped away my tears, trying to focus. I couldn’t fall apart now. Not when there was still so much to do. I grabbed my phone, dialing Mingyu’s number. It rang a few times before he picked up, his voice groggy.

“Y/N? What’s going on? It’s late.”

“Mingyu, it’s Wonyoung. Something’s happened. She’s... gone.” My voice cracked, and there was a long silence on the other end.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” he finally asked, his voice tight with confusion and rising panic.

“She’s dead, Mingyu. I found her in the lab.” I could barely get the words out. “I think someone killed her because of something she found.”

“W-what?” Mingyu’s voice broke, his disbelief palpable. “No, no, no... That can’t be. Wonyoung wouldn’t just—"

"I know, but it’s true. She was looking into something big, something dangerous. She left me a message before it happened.” I didn’t have the strength to tell him everything over the phone, but he needed to know the basics. "Meet me tomorrow. We need to figure out what she was working on. And... you might want to bring Jake."

He didn’t ask questions, his silence filled with grief and shock. “Okay. Tomorrow.”

After ending the call, I took a deep breath, trying to collect my thoughts. I stared at the draft email again, scrolling through Wonyoung’s inbox, hoping there might be more. She was smart—she had to have left something else, some other clue that could help me understand just how deep this went.

Nothing.

It was almost like she’d wiped everything clean herself, leaving behind only the draft that was meant for me. I frowned, frustrated and on edge. Wonyoung wouldn’t have left something so dangerous in plain sight. The evidence had to be somewhere else—somewhere safe.

My mind kept circling back to the lab, to the stack of papers she was gathering before... before she was killed. Could they still be there? Or had the police already collected them? The thought of going back to that room made my stomach churn, but I didn’t have a choice. I needed to know what Wonyoung had found, and those papers could be the key.

The next morning, I met Mingyu and Jake in a quiet corner of the local coffee shop. Mingyu looked haggard, dark circles under his eyes, his usual bright smile absent. Jake, as usual, kept to himself, his face hidden beneath the hood of his sweatshirt.

Neither of them spoke at first, the weight of what we were dealing with hanging heavily in the air.

The next morning, I met Mingyu and Jake in a quiet corner of the local coffee shop. Mingyu looked haggard, dark circles under his eyes, his usual bright smile absent. Jake, as usual, kept to himself, his face hidden beneath the hood of his sweatshirt.

Neither of them spoke at first, the weight of what we were dealing with hanging heavily in the air.

Mingyu’s eyes were bloodshot, and I could tell he hadn’t slept. He read the email with trembling hands, shaking his head in disbelief. “This doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t she tell me about this? We didn’t keep secrets…”

“She probably wanted to protect you,” Jake said quietly, surprising both of us. He was already tapping away on his laptop, his fingers moving fast. “You said she didn’t trust anyone. If this was as dangerous as it sounds, she would’ve kept you out of it.”

Mingyu bit his lip, frustration and grief written all over his face, but he didn’t argue. “So what do we do now?”

“We need to find the evidence,” I said. “The police might have taken everything from the lab, but I think Wonyoung was careful. If she didn’t send it through email, then maybe it’s hidden somewhere else. Jake, do you think you can find anything?”

Jake gave me a nod, his eyes already glued to his screen. “If she left any digital traces, I’ll find them. But we need more than just her emails. If she kept notes or files, I need access to her devices—her laptop, her phone, whatever she used.”

I nodded. “I’ll go back to the school, see if they’ve secured her stuff yet. Maybe they haven’t taken everything.”

Mingyu looked hesitant, fear flashing across his face. “Y/N... you need to be careful. If whoever did this finds out you’re digging into what Wonyoung found...”

“I know,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I was ready to face that reality. “But I can’t just do nothing. Wonyoung trusted me with this, and I’m not going to let her down.”

Mingyu looked like he wanted to argue, but instead, he just nodded. “Okay. Just promise you’ll call me if anything happens.”

I made my way back to Riverton High, my heart pounding as I approached the science lab. The police tape still blocked off the entrance, and a few officers stood nearby, guarding the scene.

I didn’t have time to think about what I was doing—I had to act. Taking a deep breath, I ducked around the corner and waited until the coast was clear. I knew the side door near the storage area wasn’t always locked. Wonyoung had told me about it once, back when we snuck in to finish a project late at night.

My pulse quickened as I pushed the door, holding my breath. It gave way with a quiet creak, and I slipped inside.

The lab was eerily quiet, the shadows long and ominous under the harsh fluorescent lights. The sight of the bloodstains on the floor made me sick, but I forced myself to focus. I had to find those papers. They had to be somewhere.

As I scanned the room, something caught my eye—a drawer near Wonyoung’s workbench. It was slightly ajar, and I could see the edge of a folder peeking out.

I quickly moved toward it, my hands trembling as I pulled the folder free. My breath caught. Inside were pages of notes, printouts, and photographs. Wonyoung had documented everything—emails, financial records, pictures of school staff, even a few blurry images of what looked like secret meetings. This was it. This was the evidence that had gotten her killed.

I barely had time to process it before I heard footsteps. My heart leapt into my throat. Someone was coming.

I shoved the folder into my bag and turned, scanning the room for a way out. But it was too late. The door creaked open, and a shadowy figure stepped inside.

“Y/N,” the voice was cold, sending a chill down my spine. I recognized it immediately.

Ms. Kang, the new guidance counselor, stepped into the light, her eyes narrowing as they landed on me.

“You shouldn’t have come back here,” she said, her voice calm but filled with menace. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

My blood ran cold as I realized the truth. She was part of it. She was involved in whatever corruption Wonyoung had uncovered.

And now she knew I was onto her.

I took a step back, my hand tightening around the strap of my bag. “I’m not scared of you,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Ms. Kang’s lips curled into a smile, but there was no warmth in it. “You should be. Wonyoung didn’t know when to stop. Don’t make the same mistake.” She took a step closer, her eyes gleaming with something dark and dangerous. “Leave this alone, Y/N. Or you’ll end up just like her.”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. I needed to get out of here. I needed to get the evidence to Jake and Mingyu.

But first, I had to survive.

Taglist

@heeseungspookie @woorcve @sumzysworld

[lunaritex]

CHASING REDEMPTION. . .ᐟ — kinich.

—✩ content: modern+spiderman au, established relationship, reader is gender-neutral, both reader and kinich are in college, reader knows kinich’s true identity, angst with comfort, character death.

—✩ author's note: ever since i saw this one edit of peter parker jumping down to save gwen… i knew what i had to do, except there is a small twist at the end. @kazuhaiku

Kinich swore he had planned the entire process in his mind. Everything was in place and all he needed was to be mentally and physically prepared to tell you the truth. But no matter how many plans he came up with, he did not take into account how a sudden robbery happened, resulting in him having to leap into action. He did not take into account how the robbery was not what it seems, with the robbers more than prepared to stand their grounds. They were armed with dangerous weapons that one could only obtain through illegal means. 

One thing led to another and he ended up arriving hours later than the agreed time. Kinich arrived at the agreed venue for your date and he was not surprised to spot no sign of you. He pointedly ignored the pitiful look the staff threw his way when he left in a hurry. Not wanting to waste anymore time, he used his spiderwebs to zip across the sky, turning a blind eye to how some people stopped to glance at him. 

It took him exactly five minutes to arrive at the balcony of your apartment. He nimbly landed on his feet, peering through the windows as his eyes furiously scanned your room. He swore his heart shattered when he saw a lump laying on the bed, covered with a blanket from head to toe. 

Knock knock. Knock knock. 

You raised your head when you heard someone knocking on your window, revealing your swollen eyes and tearstained face. You frowned when you realized it was your boyfriend. A part of you wants to leave him outside but you knew he was too stubborn for his own good. Surrendering, you unreluctantly crawled out of bed and moved to the window stand, unlocking the lock and slid it open. Shivers ran down your spine when the freezing wind grazed your skin. 

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be busy saving the city or something?” You asked, the sarcasm dripping in your tone made Kinich winced. 

Normally, you would have felt remorse at how you snapped at him but you have had enough. Clenching and unclenching your fists, you looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Look, I’m not in the mood to talk to you right now. You can come back another time-”

“No, I know you’re mad at me and I want to talk about it now,” he interrupted.

And that was the final straw. 

“It’s always all about you, you, you! When have you ever thought about me!? I bet the thought of me sitting in a cafe or restaurant, waiting for my boyfriend for hours, only for him to never turn up has never crossed your mind! Do you know how downright humiliating it is for me to leave and how I have to tolerate the sympathy glances thrown my way, as I walk out of the place? I know you’re doing a good deed by saving the city but sometimes, I wish you could set aside some time for me.” 

Your voice cracked like a whip, startling Kinich into silence. The fire in your eyes was undeniable, a mix of betrayal and exasperation. He tried to respond but you didn’t let him. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this. It feels like you don’t even care about me anymore and this relationship is starting to feel one-sided,” your voice grew a notch softer, exhaustion evident in your voice; as if you had already given up trying to fight for something that was no longer there anymore. 

“If you’re not going to say anything, then I think it’s best to end this. Goodbye Kinich and I wish you the best of luck,” you forced a teary-eyed smile at him, sliding the door closed and pulling the curtains, not wanting to see him a second longer. 

Kinich on the other hand, was rendered speechless. He wanted to talk to you again but since it was clear you had cut the line, he had no choice but to respect your decision. After sparing your window one more glance, he zips away into the dark sky. 

~

The next three weeks passed slowly. Both of you were busy preparing for your final exams of the semester. No matter how hard you try to focus on your studies, you just cannot seem to stop thinking about Kinich. Random thoughts like ‘is he doing fine?’, ‘has he eaten?’ and sometimes ‘I hope he’s not hurt again…’. You have not consulted your group of friends about your relationship but judging from how he was not constantly by your side, they already knew what happened. 

Currently, you are heading home after spending hours cramped in the campus library. You were too exhausted to be mindful of your surroundings. You had no idea that you were being followed, until it was too late. 

“Mphmf-!?” 

Your startled shout was instantly muffled when a gloved hand covered your mouth. Your sight turned blurry after you accidentally inhaled something. The last thing you heard was a man saying something along the lines of using you as bait for Spiderman, before everything turned black. 

When you regained consciousness, it took all of your willpower to not scream at how you were dangerously dangling in the air. The only thing supporting you was the rope tightly tied around your waist. Your wrists were tied and held behind your back. You didn’t dare try to move about, not wanting the rope to snap into half. You looked around, squinting your eyes as you tried to make sense of where you were through the darkness. 

All you could see was long and rectangular-shaped steel bars and you knew you were on a construction site. The pockets of your jeans were empty, meaning your kidnappers must have taken your phone after you were knocked out. There was nothing much you could do, except to play the role of a waiting duck. You sighed, lowering your head to look down at the ground and for a split moment, the thought of death flew through your mind. 

“Look who’s awake? Are you getting anxious that Spiderman isn’t here yet?” A sinister voice pierced through the silence. 

You raised your head to see two armed and masked men approaching you, coming to a stop at the edge. One man has a muscular build while the other man was as thin as a branch. Not wanting them to know they have the upperhand, you merely remained silent and looked at them with a bored expression. 

“I won’t rely on him that much if I were you. I doubt he knows that you guys are waiting for him,” you replied. 

The muscular man laughed. “Hah! Nice try, kid. But we’ve managed to drop him a nice little text using your phone, telling him to meet us here at nine sharp. And if he doesn’t, then I guess you can say bye to that boyfriend of yours.” 

Your blood ran cold at his words. 

“I’m here now, let them go.” 

A familiar voice interrupted your brief conversation. The two men turned around and there he was; Spiderman in his glory. You knew Kinich was seething with rage, judging from how his fists were clenched tightly the moment he was informed that you were held hostage. The men smirked in triumph as they slowly approached him, leaving you there to observe the scene unfold by itself. 

“About time you show up. It’s time for revenge for what you did to my face,” the muscular man said, pointing at his masked face with his thumb as he pulled out a gun. You gulped when you saw how dangerous they looked. 

“I don’t remember doing such a thing to you, but perhaps it might be a good thing for you,” your ex(?) replied, and you would have snickered if not for your current situation. 

“How dare you! I should have killed you when I had the chance!” He roared, enraged and started running full speed at Kinich, with his fellow partner-in-crime hot on his heels. 

From your vantage point, you watched with bated breath, heart racing as Kinich faced off against the two heavily-armed men. The tension crackled in the air, thick and electric. Kinich moved with a mix of agility and determination, dodging a flurry of blows while keeping his focus sharp. You could see the muscles in his jaw tighten as he assessed the situation, calculating his next move.

Each clash of steel rang out, echoing in the stillness around them. The men were imposing, their weapons gleaming menacingly in the light, but Kinich stood his ground, a fierce intensity in his eyes. With every punch and counter, you felt your own pulse quicken. You could only watch, willing him to outsmart his opponents and to emerge from the intense battle unscathed. Just when the fight was about to hit the climax and the two men were on the verge of being defeated, the skinny man turned to you. 

You watched in pure horror as he raised his weapon, aiming at the rope and fired. Whatever happened next was in slow motion. Your vision made an abrupt turn to the right, as gravity took over your body and pulled you down. The high-pitched scream you let out was not enough to describe the pure fear pumping through your veins. You made eye contact with Kinich and you could imagine the look of disbelief mixed with horror behind the mask. 

“Kinich!”

You screamed his name at the top of your lungs as your body began its descent to the hard concrete ground at lightning speed. Kinich forced himself to move, dodging the poor attempts of the men trying to stop him. Just for good measure, he shot a few webs aimed at their limbs to prevent them from moving. He jumped off the edge without hesitation, reaching out his hand as he tried to grab you. 

“Hold on, I’m coming!” He shouted, pure desperation heard in his voice. 

With a swift, fluid motion, he shot his web toward you, the silken strands glistening in the air before they wrapped securely around your stomach. Before you could even react, he yanked you towards him, the world spinning as you felt the force of his pull. Just as you landed against him, he swung into the air, the rush of wind whipping past you. Your heart raced as he propelled you both over the danger, each swing taking you away from the chaos below.

He landed gracefully in a safe area, setting you down gently. Your breath caught in your throat as you met his gaze—eyes fierce yet filled with concern. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, urgency in his voice, the adrenaline still coursing through him. You nodded, shaken but alive, gratitude swelling within you.

Your entire body was trembling like a fallen leaf. Kinich gently placed you on the ground, still holding you as your legs gave way. You remained still, the adrenaline and fear of experiencing close death still pumping through your veins as he removed the web from your frame, wincing at how some were still stuck on your clothes. None of you said a word after that, unsure of what to say to break the silence. 

“I-”

He wanted to speak, but you threw yourself at him, hugging him with a vice-like grip as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. Kinich fumbled about due to your combined weight but he managed to catch himself before he could hit his head against the ground. He removed the gloves and pulled the mask off, placing them on the side as he returned the embrace. Your sniffles and sobs were the only thing occupying the silence and Kinich knew you were beyond terrified of what you had just gone through. 

“Hey, it’s fine now. You’re safe, don’t worry, I got you,” he murmured, speaking in a soft and gentle tone as he reassures you. He ran his hand through your hair; an action he knows you love by heart. 

“I was so scared… I thought I was going to die…” You whimpered through your tears as you moved away from him, resting your hands on his shoulders. 

“Kinich, I’m sorry for snapping at you. That wasn’t nice of me, especially when you are doing something good which is saving the city and people,” you apologized, but he shook his head. 

“You don’t have to apologize. You weren’t in the wrong, in fact, it should be me. I shouldn’t have neglected you to the point where you felt like the relationship had become one-sided. I promise you that from now on, I will give you more of my time,” he gave you a small smile, reaching out to wipe away the stray teardrop on your cheek. 

“But, I don’t want to get in the way of your duty,” you protested. 

He merely shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sure the police can handle the troubles themselves for a day or more.” 

You chuckled and his features softened when he heard your laugh. You flinched when he suddenly carried you bridal-style in his arms after he stuffed his gloves and mask into his pocket. 

“Now that we’re done here, it’s time to go home, shall we?” He asked, looking down at you with a loving smile. 

“Indeed, we shall, Spiderman.”

[nekkomaa]

Warnings: Violence, inappropriate language, manipulation, toxic relationships.

Notes: I finally managed to finish this chapter without hating it!!! If you notice any errors please let me know, I know very little English and so I end up translating everything using an online translator, and you know sometimes there are errors...

Portuguese version published on Wattpad

Word counts: 1.435

The job was simple: break into the house of one of Markrov's henchmen, get any clues about their connection, and hopefully more clues about the human trafficking that had been going on for months. However, the job proved complicated when he had to deal not only with the guards but also with a woman, well, he was told that the guy had a wife, but he didn't expect her to be in the house.

The job was supposed to be simple. So why instead of just two in the car were there now three?

He actually considered the idea of killing her, leaving her in the house and making it look like some kind of ridiculous accident, just to confuse them and give them more time to act. But he felt sorry, Simon never liked killing women, he didn't even know if you were lying to them or not, but Ghost never minded killing women, not if they were involved in anything illegal.

You could well be in on it with your husband, and he wouldn't know until it was too late. Deep down your instincts tell you that you're just an ignorant woman who doesn't even know about her own husband, which would explain some of your behavior, but Ghost doesn't usually give people the benefit of the doubt, he's more of a shoot first ask questions later kind of guy.

So why is he taking you along? The only answer Ghost has come up with at the moment is that you could be of great help, a decoy perhaps. If this were a kidnapping, he could even use you as a bargaining chip, to find out how much the husband would be willing to pay to get his beautiful trophy wife back, but everyone knows that her husband wouldn't pay a penny to get you back.

As soon as they arrived at the safe house the first thing they did was tie you properly to a chair, they knew you wouldn't be able to escape even if they let you loose, not with two trained men of their size, but it was good to be safe. Ghost barely looked at you, he prefers not to memorize too many faces of people who will probably end up dead, he already has enough people to haunt his dreams, he doesn't need one more.

As soon as Ghost removed the tape from his mouth, he was ready to leave, anything not to be in the same room as you. He wasn't too surprised when you didn't scream, I mean, he realized you were a clever little thing the moment you decided to collaborate with him, maybe deep down he expected you to scream and shout at the top of your lungs even though you saw you were in the middle of nowhere and knew it wouldn't do any good, he kind of expected any reaction from you, just so he could be rude without feeling so guilty. He doesn't even know whether or not you were involved and aware of what your husband was doing.

“I thought she'd have some resistance, you know screaming and all.” Soap seemed excited by the discovery, a little too excited, but Ghost had learned to ignore strange comments and actions during his time in the army, after all, none of them had a good sanity, not even him.

“I think she understood that no one will come even if she screams.” Ghost just turned and left the room, heading for the room he would be staying in, he would leave you for Soap to deal with, meanwhile he would find out more information in other ways.

Soap appeared at the door a few minutes later, saying that you had fainted, overwhelmed by everything, Ghost just nodded and told him to try again later.

And then Soap was in charge of trying to get more information out of you when you were awake. Ghost felt he'd already had too much interaction with you, and let's face it, Soap was great at getting people to open up, so he was an infinitely better chance. Even though he initially failed, Ghost still believed that Jonny could achieve something.

“Why can't we have a clean safe house for once in our lives?” Soap complains as he throws himself on the bed and dust rises, he coughs a few times trying to shake the dust away in a failed attempt.

“We're in a safe house, not a vacation home Jonny. At least this one has furniture.” Ghost's voice comes out sarcastic, he doesn't take his eyes off the computer, grumbling when something doesn't go as he expects.

“How long is this going to last?” Soap rambles to himself, not really caring whether Ghost listens or not.

“Preferably as little as possible.” He answers back and lets out a strange sound, a muffled, croaking laugh. “I found something you might want to read.” Ghost passes the computer to Soap, the small print on the screen showing something interesting.

The night was colder than he thought it would be, probably because winter was approaching. Ghost stood guard in the early hours of the night, Soap was passed out on the dusty bed in the bedroom, at least this safe house had some comfort, in the last few missions the safe houses had nothing more than just the bathroom sink and the shower, of course, only cold water.

He busied himself going over the information he had about the mission. It was routine, something he was used to and something he could relate to now, if he let his mind wander to any other thought than the mission he knew he would lose himself in a spiral and Ghost couldn't let that happen. Not while he still had a mission to finish, not while he was still on that mission.

He wouldn't give you anything more than a few glances, just to make sure you were still in your sleep/fainting state. It would be tedious for anyone else to sit up half the night watching someone else, without much to occupy themselves, but Ghost doesn't really care, too used to babysitting at night to care that much.

It's actually kind of pathetic now that he thinks about it, the fact that he's watching you. A weak, untrained woman, tied to a chair and passed out. You'd never get out of that house without one of the two of you noticing, Ghost could be mistaken about you, you could be a clever little mouse playing dumb, but he still doubts you'd be able to get rid of the ropes holding you down without making a sound.

He's only awake to keep people out of the house, that's the truth. You're no danger to him. Too fearful, not even able to take the pressure of a few questions and already fainting.

Ghost remembers somewhere in the back of his mind that you're just a civilian, and as far as he knows you have every right to cry and faint out of fear and exhaustion, he sometimes forgets that people aren't like him, that most people aren't in the army.

And in a corner of his mind comes the nagging voice reminding him that for all he knows you might actually be being held in private. But again, it's just an assumption, not confirmed information. He found almost nothing about you in the files, your name was mentioned once in a file, but it was so vague that it could easily have been forgotten.

Ghost rolls his eyes at the thought and snorts, he'd rather not think about it too much, if he knew that bastard was holding you against your will he certainly wouldn't spare his fingers when he finally managed to catch the lowlife. Ghost simply hates violence against innocent, unarmed women. He also hates the memories that come with that thought.

A heavy sigh leaves his lips, he would definitely kill for a cup of tea or an alcoholic drink right now, anything to slow down his mind and relax his tense body. But well, unfortunately there's nothing in this house apart from drinking water, and if they're lucky, some kind of canned food.

The sound is very low, but it's still noticeable if you're paying attention. Ghost looks away from the window and sees you looking around, your gaze unfocused and lost, surely it would take you a few seconds to fully regain consciousness.

That's when Ghost knows it's going to be a long night. Maybe he'll wake Soap up and let him deal with it.

[minus-plus-zer0]

When You’re Depressed

♡ Genre: Hurt/comfort ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Today was exhausting. People were exhausting. For the entire day, you couldn’t wait to get home and do absolutely nothing for an indeterminate amount of hours.

Once you were home, you gunned it straight to your bedroom without talking to anyone. Your classmates looked at you funny as you passed them, but your mind only focused on getting to your bed so you could rest. You wanted to replenish your energy, which never seemed to fill entirely.

In your dark bedroom, you hugged your cute plushie tight against your chest. Your entire body felt like it weighed an extra fifty pounds. You couldn't see an easy way out of this predicament.

Your bedroom door unlocked and then opened. Light briefly flooded into your room before it closed. Now the only light that entered was from the sunset outside.

"Oi," Bakugou said. "What's gotten into ya?"

Bakugou walked over and sat on the side of your bed. You flipped over, facing away from him. You knew it was rude, but you couldn't really bring yourself to deal with anyone today. You didn't want him to see you like this.

Bakugou gave you some company regardless.

"You wanna talk?" Bakugou asked.

"...No," you said. "Don't feel like it. Don't feel like doing anything today."

There was a brief pause.

"...You wanna cuddle, then?"

There was that question again. Ever since you said yes the first time to cuddling, Bakugou just kept asking for your permission more and more often, like you broke an imaginary dam and whatever 'feelings' Bakugou previously held back came flooding in. You half-expected this question again the moment he entered the room.

You weren't dating, but boy did the thought cross your mind time and time again. Like just now. Your feelings for your best friend were one of the few lights in the darkness.

Your hold on your pillow became a death-grip. "Um... Yes, please."

Wordlessly, Bakugou got underneath the blanket and then lied down on the bed besides you, spooning your from behind. You both heard and felt him sigh in relief as he took you into his arms. His heart was racing against your back, just like the other times you cuddled, and you wondered if he knew you could feel it.

You always liked how you two cuddled. It blurred the lines of friendship between you two in a good way. The best way. You both trusted one another enough to hold each other like this, like you were something he'd always wanna keep close when he pushed everyone away. Now due to your depression, you were the one pushing others away and he had to be the positivity in your life that you had always been to him.

He tucked your body further into his. "Better?"

You smiled brightly in the darkness, knowing he couldn't see. "Better."

"Why are you so fucking sad for anyways?" Bakugou asked, his voice right against your neck.

"I... um..." It was hard to concentrate with him so close. "I felt so weak today. I didn't know if I could do everything that I needed to do. I felt hopeless. I don't think I can take much more of this."

"I know how you feel," Bakugou said, his head digging into your hair. "I'm the fucking same when I screw up. But it's not hopeless. And you're not weak. You're stronger than me in some ways. I'll always be there for you if you need anything. How's that sound?"

You hid your face into your plushie. "It sounds really, really good."

"Good," he said. You could feel his smirk against your neck. "You seem happier already. You can continue complaining to me about any stupid shit that's bothering ya, if ya want." He poked your cheek. "Or we can just stay here forever."

"Forever?!"

"I mean, 'until whenever'!" Bakugou's entire body tensed. "That's what I said!"

You slowly flipped around to face him and caught him looking flustered as all hell.

"...What if I wanna stay forever?" you asked.

Bakugou's eyes widened in realization. He froze.

Then, he looked at you so softly.

"We can do that too."

His hand sifted through the back of you hair, pulling your forehead against his. His eyes flickered down to your lips briefly, but your eyes were already closing to get some sleep. Before you drifted off into a nap, you felt Bakugou's arms tighten around you.

You didn't know how long 'forever' was, but Bakugou believed 'forever' was simply however long you allowed him to be there with you.

And maybe one day, he'd confess his true feelings to you.

(This helped me finally get out of a writer's block)

[elysiaheaven]

𝗥𝗲𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗹𝗮𝘆-𝟮𝟮-(The Fox' Wedding)

words:2500

Jiaoqiu's eyes held a mix of concern and confusion. "You were the goddess of the Borisin, not of humans. Hoolay himself proclaimed you as their goddess."

The revelation hit you like a ton of bricks, and your face paled. "That's not what happened," you stammered, your voice quivering. "That's not what I remember."

A growing sense of dread tightened around your chest. "How could he have said that? How could anyone believe such a thing?"

Xueyi, noting the tension, interjected with a sense of urgency. "We need to move faster. The situation requires immediate attention."

Desperation clawed at you as you turned to Jiaoqiu. "I will explain everything to you, but you must promise me one thing: Whatever it is,,,you have to... you have to kill me." The words came out in a frantic rush, the fear in your voice unmistakable.

Jiaoqiu's silence was deafening. He didn't nod or verbally acknowledge your plea. Instead, he simply took your trembling hand into his, his grip firm yet gentle. Without a word, he began to lead you forward, the weight of unspoken promises heavy between you.

You reviewed the "Reminders When Visiting Hoolay" document, a chilling realization set in. The summary of Hoolay's crimes, his long-term enslavement of foxians, and the cruel alchemical uses of their blood stirred a deep, painful memory within you. Your eyes filled with tears at the mention of Jingliu's name, a name that seemed to pierce through the fog of your forgotten past. You trembled, the emotional weight nearly overwhelming.

In your moment of fear and sorrow, you turned to Jiaoqiu, your voice trembling as you tried to suppress the rising dread. You clung to him, your grip desperate, needing the reassurance of his presence. "Please, don't make me wait outside. I need to be here. I need to understand what's happening."

Jiaoqiu's eyes softened with a mixture of concern and confusion. "We need to keep you safe, but you don't have to face this alone."

Despite his words, you felt a pang of panic. You didn't want to be separated from him, not with the darkness you were grappling with. Your fear seemed to solidify into a tangible entity as you held onto Jiaoqiu, shaking your head vehemently. "No, I need to stay. I need to understand... I can't be left alone with this."

Jiaoqiu hesitated, his expression torn. The gravity of the situation and your distress were clear, but he also knew the importance of following protocol. "Alright," he finally said, his voice gentle. "But you must remain calm and stay close to me. This is a dangerous place, and I don't want you to be exposed to any risk."

With a deep breath, you tried to steady yourself, finding a small measure of solace in Jiaoqiu's steady presence.

Xueyi held out a small, unassuming pellet. "And please take this pellet before proceeding."

Moze frowned, eyeing the pellet with suspicion. "No, I'm not taking random medicine."

Xueyi's expression remained impassive. "Then you won't be allowed to visit Hoolay."

Jiaoqiu stepped in, his tone firm but not unkind. "Just swallow it already. Hoolay, like all borisin, can release a pheromone called Lupitoxin that induces fear."

You watched the exchange with growing apprehension, your earlier distress still fresh. The mention of Lupitoxin only heightened your unease, making the situation feel even more dire. You could feel your heart pounding, and you found yourself gripping Jiaoqiu's sleeve for support. "What exactly does this toxin do?" you asked, trying to steady your voice.

Jiaoqiu glanced at you, sensing your anxiety. "The toxin causes intense fear and paranoia. It's not just about physical effects; it messes with your mind. The pellet helps counteract that. It's for your own mental well-being."

You swallowed hard, nodding as you accepted the gravity of the situation. The pill felt like a necessary precaution in the face of what you were about to confront. Moze, after a brief pause, reluctantly took the pellet and swallowed it. "I understand," he said, though his tone was tinged with reluctance.

Jiaoqiu gave a nod of approval. "I knew you were a reasonable person. Now that we've taken the medicine, let's proceed."

Dispatched by the general of the Yaoqing, Jiaoqiu and Moze prepared to enter The Shackling Prison to visit Hoolay, the borisin Warhead imprisoned there.

They descended the steps, Xueyi led them through a dimly lit corridor. "Here we are," she announced, her voice echoing off the stone walls.

Jiaoqiu looked around, noting the lack of visible security. "Have we arrived already, your honor?"

He frowned slightly, scanning the area for any sign of a cage or holding cell. "Shouldn't there be a cage here?"

Xueyi shook her head, her expression solemn. "The most notorious felons are locked away in solitary delves deep down in the prison. Those delves can't be opened without proper authorization."

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the mention of Hoolay's isolation, your earlier dread returning with full force. As you tried to focus on the task at hand, you could barely contain your anxiety.

Xueyi's voice broke through your thoughts. "'The blue bird paves the path, and the Stygian Lanterns illuminate it.' Help me light up these lanterns, and the way to the bottom of the Shackling Prison will reveal itself."

You glanced around, noticing the eerie blue lanterns lining the corridor. Each lantern seemed to flicker with a cold, unwelcoming light. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and approached one of the lanterns.

Jiaoqiu noticed your hesitation and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "It's alright. We'll get through this."

You and the others continued through the eerie corridors of The Shackling Prison, the oppressive atmosphere grew heavier. You glanced over at Moze, who gave you a subtle shake of his head. His demeanor was notably subdued, and the usual spark in his eyes was replaced by a steely, focused intensity. It seemed the grim environment had drained any inclination for light-hearted banter.

You turned your attention to Xueyi as she addressed the group. "I've given you the diagrams for lighting the lanterns. Please take a look."

You took the diagrams from Xueyi, carefully examining the instructions. The guidance outlined the order in which the Stygian Lanterns needed to be lit—from the bottom to the top. It was crucial to follow the sequence precisely to ensure the path would open correctly.

Jiaoqiu noticed your concentration and leaned in. "Anything unclear?"

You shook your head, focused on the task. "No, I've got it. Just need to follow the order."

With the diagrams in hand, you proceeded to light the lanterns in the correct sequence. Each lantern's flicker of blue light cut through the darkness, revealing the path forward. As you worked, the cold, ghostly glow illuminated the way deeper into the prison's depths.

Once the lanterns were lit, Xueyi looked satisfied and addressed the group again. "The path is open. Once we descend to the bottom of the prison, please do not do anything reckless."

Your unease only deepened as you prepared to follow Xueyi further into the prison. The oppressive weight of the place seemed to press down on you, but you steeled yourself for what lay ahead.

The group stood before the ominous door, Xueyi's voice was grave and steady. "Inside the delve behind this door is the greatest enemy of the foxians, Hoolay."

A low, guttural growl resonated from behind the door, sending a chill down your spine. The sound seemed to reverberate through the cold, stone walls of the prison.

Xueyi continued, her tone unwavering despite the grim atmosphere. "According to custom, envoys from the Yaoqing visit the Xianzhou Luofu once every century to check on this abomination's imprisonment and condition. Even though the Ten-Lords Commission sentenced Hoolay to the Forest of Swords, suffering every day for the rest of his life, I understand that the Yaoqing messengers want to see him dead... Unfortunately, for the past seven centuries, they've had to return disappointed because this beast simply can't be killed."

You glanced at Jiaoqiu, who spoke with a somber determination. "If we can use his toxin to create medicine and save an innocent life, it might help balance out some of the sins he has committed. Could you be the key to a cure for the General, Hoolay?"

Suddenly, a voice, dripping with menace, echoed from the other side of the door. "And once again, the envoys of the Yaoqing will leave disappointed. However, I won't say the same for me and my brothers..."

Xueyi's eyes widened in alarm. "Who's there?!"

The voice continued, with a dark, mocking tone. "I'm just a humble counselor of the Rhinohound Pack. You can call me... Mok Tok."

Panic flickered across Xueyi's face as she shouted, "Wardens! Intruders on the lowest level! Send reinforcements!"

Mok Tok's laughter was cold and taunting. "Nobody will hear you here, at the bottom of the Shackling Prison. Thank you for opening up the prison for us, your honor. We'll take it from here."

Jiaoqiu's expression turned grim as he recognized the stench that had been lingering. "No wonder I kept smelling that familiar stench. So, it wasn't just my imagination. Do your thing, Moze!"

You felt the urgency of the situation pressing down on you, your anxiety mixing with the oppressive atmosphere. "We can't let these abominations get any closer!" you exclaimed, trying to steady your voice despite the rising panic.

Moze, already on high alert, prepared for action. His usual calm demeanor was replaced by a sharp focus as he readied himself to confront the intruders.

The battle raged around you, a surge of uncontrolled darkness began to envelop you. You felt your grip on reality slipping as if a shadow from your past was clawing its way to the surface. Desperately, you shouted in anguish, clutching your head as though trying to hold back the torment within.

The overwhelming darkness took over, and you found yourself striking out uncontrollably. The scene was a blur of movement and chaos as you unleashed a torrent of violence. Enemies fell before you, their screams mingling with the roar of the conflict. The relentless energy you emitted was both horrifying and awe-inspiring, causing havoc among the soldiers.

Xueyi, her voice cutting through the din, barked out orders. "Guard the gate — they can't be allowed in!"

Jiaoqiu's urgency was palpable. "Hurry!"

In the midst of the turmoil, Hoolay's voice echoed with a chilling calmness. "I've waited... for too long... My first meal after regaining my freedom... is the flesh and blood of my fellow kindred. A sad scene indeed."

Mok Tok's dark amusement resonated through his words. "It's been a long time, Warhead. Welcome back."

Seeing Hoolay, your rage intensified. You let out a primal scream, continuing to attack the remaining soldiers with a savage fury. Amid the destruction, Hoolay clutched a doll that looked eerily like you, holding it tightly. The sight was unsettling, a grotesque reminder of your past.

The dim, oppressive atmosphere of The Shackling Prison pressed down on everyone as Hoolay and Mok Tok engaged in their dark conversation. The air was thick with tension and the distant sounds of battle.

Hoolay's voice reverberated with a mix of old pride and contempt. "How many times... how many years has the old verdant home, Verdantia, spun around since our last hunt? Ah, Duran's whelps, scions of borisin! Tell me your name!"

Mok Tok, bowing slightly, responded with deference. "O, Great Hoolay, nemesis of the foxians, and the hunter of all beings, I'm Mok Tok, a humble counselor of the Rhinohound Pack. I am but one insignificant heir spawned from your bloodline."

He continued, his tone almost nostalgic. "It's been... at least seven centuries since you led our Pack through the hunting grounds of the stars. I'm thrilled to see that you are as cunning and skillful as ever."

Hoolay's gaze turned sharp as he took in Mok Tok's appearance. "Seven centuries... Seven centuries have passed, but why have Duran's whelps grown to look like this? Tell me, Mok Tok, why have you grown to resemble our most despicable slaves and enemies, the foxians?"

Mok Tok's face hardened with a hint of bitterness. "I've been commanded to release you from this cursed prison. It is Sain Jiyaafate's will. That's why I had to take a magic pill, don the skin of a lowly beastfoxian, and play along with their hypocrisy."

Mok Tok spoke, you crouched nearby, trying to remain unseen. Hoolay's eyes shifted to you, observing your fearful, trembling form. A cruel smirk twisted on his lips. "Since you have an escape plan, tell me, what's our next move to get off this ridiculously large ship?"

Mok Tok turned back to Hoolay, his voice brimming with urgency. "My brothers and I will lock down this prison, trapping the prison guards inside. This will buy us some time. The rest of my crew, who are undercover like me, will secure the vessels for our escape. According to the plan, we only have a tight two-hour window to get out of here."

He continued, frustration evident in his tone. "Originally, I intended to carry out the plan tomorrow, but they're planning to transfer you to the Xianzhou Yaoqing now, so I seized this opportunity to set you free."

Hoolay's eyes narrowed, filled with disdain. "What a reckless plan, you idiot! Even if we manage to get the ships, our chances of escaping are slimmer than a foxian slipping through my claws!"

Mok Tok's voice was desperate. "But we have no other choice! The angel serving under the Master of Immortality sent me with a message, 'Only your return will end the prolonged divisions among the borisin.' Every one of my crew is ready to lay down their lives if it means setting you free."

Hoolay's laughter rang out, harsh and mocking. "A sneaky weakling like you is actually showing some reckless bravery with this plan. Fine, you'll get what you want... and all of Duran's whelps will too."

Mok Tok, sensing the shift, bowed deeply. "Well then, my Lord, we should leave now."

Hoolay's gaze turned to you, his eyes gleaming with malevolent amusement. "Before we go, give me one of those magic pills."

Mok Tok hesitated for a moment, then handed over a pill. "My Lord... you seriously want to don the skin of a lowly beast? That would be a disgrace to your greatness, my Lord..."

Hoolay's expression hardened with resolve. "You idiot! Greatness means nothing without freedom! Once I get out, I'll need a disguise that won't raise any suspicion."

Mok Tok handed the pill over with a bow. "As you wish, my Lord."

Hoolay then noticed you again, his eyes narrowing in cruel delight as he saw your trembling form. He laughed, a sound filled with mockery. "Is that foxian slave my meal?"

Mok Tok quickly answered, trying to maintain control of the situation. "No, he's an envoy from the Xianzhou Yaoqing. I plead you to endure him a bit, my Lord, as he's more valuable as a hostage. Take those two, guys! Time to move out!"

You felt yourself crumple, unable to control the fear and helplessness surging through you. You curled into a ball, trying to hide from the eyes of your tormentor, your body shaking uncontrollably.

[inchidentally]

very proud to be here with all of you as we witnessed an exquisitely beautiful boy become an exquisitely beautiful man ... x x x x

[myimaginationplain]

imagine: professor utonium mentoring dexter vs professor membrane mentoring mandark

[skinnymeanfaggot]

also

[chuluoyi]

✎ throughout heaven and earth

- gojo satoru x reader

a sudden mission. a curse beyond your grade. all hell breaks loose when gojo realizes that there are hidden machinations behind the incident that befalls you

genre: feral!gojo, injured!reader, hurt/comfort, exponential fluff !

note: we need a gojo who will go ballistic against the higher-ups for dragging you in their mess :) refer to this for the reader's CT, and this loosely takes place after the events in heaven's fury, and the epilogue is based on this very brilliant idea :))

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Something isn’t right.

You should’ve known it was strange when they assigned you with a sudden mission with little to no briefing. You should’ve gone through with your gut feeling and informed Satoru about it.

Because if you did... now you wouldn’t be running for your life like this, frantically dodging the hacks and slashes of this chainsaw-like cursed spirit that was evidently not a Grade 2 as what you were told.

“Ah!” you yelped as the sharp ends of its body struck your shoulder, leaving you bleeding openly. This was no small wound—it was deep enough to make you stagger.

You had to do something about this because merely avoiding wouldn’t save your life. You had to come back in one piece. You have to— for your baby and Satoru.

What if I can’t? The sheer thought made you tremble. Your baby boy was still so little and he needed you more than anyone, and Satoru...

God, you couldn’t bear to leave him alone. Not again. He couldn't handle losing someone again, not after all he had already lost.

You gripped your whip—your cursed weapon—tightly amidst your bleeding hand. You had barely enough cursed energy for a domain expansion that guaranteed a sure-hit effect. You have one shot. This was all or nothing.

But you weren’t sure if it would work, because you were on the verge of exhaustion, and this was a special grade curse. Your domain expansion was definitely not as refined as the Satoru’s, and this monster was an enemy of his class.

“Satoru...” your voice came out in a sob. You were terribly scared, and honestly you were entitled to. You weren’t even sure you would survive this at all, and all you could think now was your husband’s silly grin and how much you loved him.

And right afterwards, you saw the cursed spirit lunging at you, and with everything left that you had, you screamed—

“Domain Expansion: Transcendent Veil!”

“Gojo-sensei, p-please come back... Nee-san is...!”

Satoru was in Kyoto when he received that call from Megumi— and that moment shattered his world as he knew it.

“Megumi, what is it?”

“She w-was sent on a mission... but then it's a special grade— a-and... she... she e-exorcised it b-but—!”

He teleported without second thought to Tokyo. His mind was blank, the only sound he could hear was his own violent heartbeats, and his fists were clenched so tightly.

“The cursed spirit got her too… It made a cut on her neck.”

His most precious wife... the one person he must protect at all cost, was now possibly—

“Megumi.” He saw him sitting on the hallway of the headquarters’ hospital the with his son on his lap—you had asked him to look after your baby—and the boy looked up to him.

“Gojo-sensei...” Megumi appeared shaken, and seeing that, Satoru immediately took his child from his hands, pulling the little kid into his embrace.

“Go back home, I’ll stay here.”

In all his life, Megumi had never seen Gojo Satoru as calm as he was now. He looked fearsome, as if he was in the battlefield.

“Ichiji.” Satoru turned to the other man rigidly standing next to Megumi, causing him to stiffen up even more. He didn’t say anything further as he pat his little son’s back, and yet Ichiji knew all the same what he wanted from him.

“It’s from… the higher ups, Gojo-san.” Ichiji gulped as he said it. “Y/N-san was suddenly called in yesterday night, and she was told it was an urgent mission.”

“Who called her?”

“It was…”

When Ichiji told him the name, suddenly Satoru barked a snort, and his lips curled into a manic grin. It was a menacing sight for both Ichiji and Megumi, as he looked almost unhinged if not for his secure grip on his son.

But contrary to what they were thinking, what filled Satoru at that moment was pure, unadulterated fury. A righteous sense of being crossed—because, how fucking dare they?

Those higher ups first pressed him to execute Yuji, and when he paid them no mind… now they staged this atrocity against you, most definitely to serve as a warning to him.

“Ichiji, tell them that I’ll pay a visit tomorrow. And drive Megumi home tonight.”

He would make his point loud and clear. He would show them how wrong it was to ever test him. But…

The plan barely satisfied him. They hurt you. His heart finally lurched as he processed the fact… when he heard his baby’s soft whimper against his shoulder.

. . .

You sustained serious injuries, but finally, you were out of critical condition.

When Satoru was allowed to see you, you were still connected to many monitors and breathing machine. He brought your baby too inside, and upon clearly seeing both of them, suddenly your eyes welled up with tears.

“Hey…” his hand gripped yours reassuringly. You sniffled when the strain of your broken ribs made you almost cry out in pain, and Satoru immediately calmed you down.

“Sweets— hey, don’t cry, yeah? You did good.” He pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “You did freaking good. You’re okay now. You’re going to recover, yeah?”

You gave him a tearful little nod, feeling so grateful that you could see him again. And unbeknownst to you, seeing you like this broke his heart too.

“Mwa...” your baby, cradled in your husband’s arms, suddenly stretched his tiny hands towards you, and Satoru handed him over for you to hold.

With the little strength you possessed, you reached out to stroke his soft cheeks. Your son... the thought of how close you came to death brought another tear rolling down your cheek.

All sort of thoughts went through Satoru’s head at the sight. His wife, the mother of his son, who is proud of him for everything he does—

—and their sorry asses dared to hurt you.

Suddenly all he saw was red.

And he swore he would make it right to you. Soon.

“Ah, Satoru-kun… to what I owe the pleasure?”

“…I’ve heard that it was you who assigned that special grade mission to my wife, correct?”

“Oh, that. First of all, I must apologize for my... oversight. We were misinformed... Our scouts made a mistake while filling the files.”

Satoru was trying not to lose his composure first thing after coming here. Really.

But the knowing tone of the elderly Jujutsu Commander only fueled his rage, growing stronger the longer he stood behind this stupid paper divider.

“So it’s a mistake, huh?” he repeated in a satire manner. “Then do you know that my wife has just gotten out of her maternity leave this week?”

The man behind the divider chuckled quietly. “Satoru-kun… I know the sentiment. Of course you’ll be worried, and it did end in a rather… unfortunate incident. However, jujutsu sorcerers are bound to their duty, and your wife cannot rely too heavily on her status as a member of the Gojo clan to be excluded from—”

Fuck it. He had no patience any longer.

“Seems like I need to be a lot rougher, after all.”

Suddenly the room crackled with electricity and the Jujutsu Commander gasped at the sense of foreboding he felt. “Gojo, you can’t—!”

“Heh, but I can.” He let out the most satisfied laugh before opening his palm and chanting in a lower voice: “Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.”

In a matter of seconds, the audience chamber of jujutsu headquarters turned into a pile of destruction. The commander barely made it out the deadly vacuum vortex with a shriek.

“Ah! N-no! Get a-away from me!” Satoru stared down at him coldly through his unobstructed heavenly eyes, as he pitifully tried to crawl away. He took one step towards him, stomped on his hand ruthlessly—causing the man to scream, before he got down to his level.

“N-no! Please, s-spare me...!”

“This is my first and last warning to you.” It was beyond terrifying, to see those six eyes in this close proximity. But even more dreadful was the tight chokehold on his throat—

“If you ever try to pull this idiotic stunt again on my wife, know that I can and I will snap your neck.” Satoru’s face split into a sinister grin as he tapped the man’s nape, before he crushed the bones of his hand with a crack and made him howl. “Remember that, yeah?”

. . . that day, none in jujutsu headquarters dared to spread any word about Gojo Satoru’s outrageous conduct, even when it was an attack against their own highest ranking leader.

“Satoru, you don’t have to, really—”

“Nuh, uh! I’ve promised you I’ll nurse you back to health!”

Unaware of anything and everything, you thought that your loving husband was a silly jester trying to make you feel better. On the fifth day of your stay in hospital, you were well enough to eat solid food, and Satoru insisted on spoon feeding you the fruits he cut himself.

“Good girl,” he praised with a wholly playful smile as you chewed on the watermelon. You looked at him with a mock frown, pursing your lips.

“You’re making me look like a kid.”

“You are, in fact, my second kid, so I have all rights to baby you.”

You let out a giggle, but then suddenly your throat felt like it was closing in and you coughed. Instinctively, you reached for your neck— your fingers tracing the scar there.

You still could remember the sense of paralyzing fear you felt as soon as your neck was cut. The heavy bleeding that followed, the way the world blacking out around you…

“Sweets…?” Satoru put down the plate and got a grip on your trembling figure. He gently pushed your chin up to meet his eyes. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, hmm?”

Your frantic eyes locked onto his, and your rapid breathing steadied. Your clammy hand reached out to touch his face... before you lunged forward, throwing your arms around him.

“Sweetheart…” Satoru hugged you back in return, sighing against the nape on your neck, as he planted a soft kiss there.

You tried your best not to cry but it was hard not to while remembering everything.

“I-I was so scared…”

“Mhm.”

“I-I kept thinking… w-what if I c-can’t see you… or baby again…? I… I s-still want to do a lot of… things… w-with you…”

The way you shook in his arms like a fragile leaf made something inside him burn. He was supposed to provide you with security, give you a life far removed from curses—

Having left that warning against the higher-ups wasn’t enough, he should’ve made him beg for his life more—

“Listen to me,” Satoru said as he broke the hug, the deep frown in his grave expression made you almost sob. He gently wiped your overflowing tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Stop thinking that. You’re alright. You’re going to get better. You and me—we are going to raise our son together.”

You took in each of his words fully, even as your lips quivered.

“And mark my words…” Right in this moment, you thought that your husband was most dashing as he gave you his promises—as his blue eyes glimmered under the light. “They won’t ever lay their hands on you ever again. Not while I’m here. Not ever. I already made sure of that.”

You were curious about what he did, but you chose not to press further when Satoru leaned in suddenly and brushed his lips against yours in a soft kiss, melting your heart into mush.

When he pulled away, it was his usual teasing grin on his handsome face. “Now, I only have one duty left— that is to get my cute wife back on her feet. So, be a good little wifey and have lots of fruits and sleep, okay?”

You giggled freely this time, feeling tremendously safe and loved, and instead of answering, you chose to peck his lips instead— hoping that he’d know that you trusted him with your whole life.

. . .

“By the way… Satoru, where’s our baby?” you missed your pumpkin, and while being with your funny husband lifted your spirits, you wanted to cuddle him too.

He chuckled in response. “Ah! Since Megumi is on an assignment, I left him with Ichiji earlier! Don’t worry, I’ll come pick him up soon, ‘kay?”

Epilogue

“I’m going out for a bit, and if you ever make him upset or cry… I can and I will sense it! So Ichiji—do your best!”

“Bwa…”

“Eeek!”

Ichiji stared at Baby Gojo with literal sweat on his forehead, as the little being curiously looked up at him.

By all means, this baby was adorable. Even more so when his father dressed him in a shark onesie. It was a peculiar choice—just like any of Gojo’s choices were—but it sure made the baby look even more endearing.

But the thing is… he didn’t feel secure enough to hold him! Especially when he didn’t know if Gojo’s claim of telepathic connection with his son was true or not!

Amidst his thoughts, suddenly Ichiji felt a soft touch on his arm and immediately turned to find the little munchkin putting his little hand on him and staring at him with such pureness unbefitting of Gojo Satoru’s son.

How can this baby be a stark contrast to his father? Ichiji was almost tempted to snuggle him, but he knew better.

“O-oh… d-don’t touch me…”

And as he retracted his hand back, the baby suddenly widened his eyes, feeling betrayed apparently, as his little lips wobbled and face scrunched up, so ready to burst into tears—

“Hic…”

“—!! Nooo! Don’t cry! Your father will fry me! Eeek!!”

[atrwriting]

future problems — coriolanus snow x fem!wife!reader

hi everyone :) jumping on the bandwagon

this man is so fine i couldn’t help myself. i hope everyone had an amazing holiday if they celebrate — i celebrate christmas, so here is my almost 10k word christmas gift to all of you xoxo love u all v much thank you for reading !!

as always, warnings: corio-lame-o is a fucking warning holy fuck, smuuuuut, arranged marriage (i think this counts?), coriolanus is a distrustful evil fuck (but he’s super hot), fem!reader, reader is married to this dickhead (i say as if i wouldn’t want to be lmao), angst, sexism and misogyny is def in here, p in v penetration, m receiving oral, choking, dom!corio, asshole!corio, sub!reader, subspace kinda

informal warnings: bro what the fuck was i on this is literally 10.2k words and i refuse to edit because im super lazy anyway we die like men you've been warned

anyways… here is future problems:

he never wanted to get married.

he saw it as a potential problem, one that would most definitely lead to loose ends — and he hated loose ends.

despised them.

however, his innate need to maintain an image was far more important to him. he weighed the costs and benefits in his head like an algorithm — check, check, check. coriolanus’ mind left no stone unturned, especially when future problems were to be squashed before they could ever be wiped from memory. in the end… he decided he would marry.

and it would be you.

he never allowed himself to be naive — so he would never allow himself to marry someone he already loved. lucy gray? a child’s want for something they can’t have, and something they wouldn’t realize until later that it was a walking regret. no — he could never marry someone that would harm him. absolutely not. out of the question. therefore, it had to be you.

it had to be you because what harm would you cause him? you were shy, quiet, of satisfactory social standing, and uncontroversial. everything a patriarch of the snow family would want. deserved. be entitled to.

he needed someone that wouldn’t be a problem — a loose end in the future. he had conquered so much — he refused to let anything else, especially as irrelevant as a significant other, stand in his way.

however… it did not aid him in his stone-cold lack of a love affair conquest that you were absolutely breathtaking.

at first, it was just an ego boost. he simply couldn’t stop his thoughts from voicing, of course she’s perfect. the snow legacy can only have perfect.

but then… oh, then…

then he saw your smile.

oh, your smile.

your fucking smile.

the first time he caught himself enjoying it — he scolded himself. he refused to see you for a week. a punishment of sorts. more so for him than for you. after, he refused to let his eyes wander on the pretty features of your face for him to witness a reaction to something someone had said or done. he didn’t want to be reminded of what it was like to experience joy or peace because someone else was experiencing it — that was what almost costed him everything he had built.

no one would ever tear that down. not again, not ever.

no one.

when the day of your marriage came, it was business as usual. he refused to meet eye contact, and did not partake in more conversations with you than he had to. he could tell you felt uncomfortable — but he forced himself not to care. he drove it down, down, down like a miner drilling for more coal — hoping, one day, it would be worth it.

and it was… until he was sick.

it was a minor ailment — nothing major, but he was on bedrest for about a week or two. he had employed enough adequate members to his staff to feel that things would at least be taken care of until then. he also found comfort in the fact that two weeks was not long enough for something irreversible to occur. if a problem had taken placed, he would be able to rectify it once he was well and able and… set aside the responsible party.

however, he did not expect one problem.

and that would be you.

he knew you were asking to see him. he knew, he knew, he knew, but he refused to let you in. you were not disrespectful — you had only asked once a day, which happened to be every day in the afternoon. he had picked you specifically because you were too quiet to be annoying. however, his own perfect, pristine, and proper plan had stabbed him in the back. he had never considered that the perfect, pristine, and proper wife would be this dutiful to him, checking in once a day on his condition and to speak with him. despite his illness, he laughed at himself — leave it to him to not expect the expected: the hand-selected dutiful wife would, in fact, be dutiful.

he had to put an end to it. he couldn’t keep saying no for another week. how was he expected to get better if you kept bothering him?

so he let you in. this once. just this once. he reasoned that if he let you in this once, you would be less persistent. just this once — and another problem would cease to plague his mind.

just this once, he chanted in his head. just this once.

he sat up straighter, and attempted to shape his hair so it wasn’t terribly unkept. he reasoned that if you saw him appearing to be healthy, you wouldn’t feel the need to come back. he thought —

but he couldn’t finish the thought.

because you walked in.

smelling like fucking lilacs.

lilacs, of all things. lilacs! not roses, not anything else — lilacs. he did not hate lilacs, but he despised the actual flower. only beautiful for so long before it died and the stench was intolerable. an inconvenience. a nuisance. a guaranteed future problem.

however, when you gifted him with a small smile — you realized why small shows of beauty were so valuable in this world. no one else saw your smile — except for those closest to you. people he hand selected to be around you to prevent future problems. he realized then — he had more control and ownership over your smile than either of you thought.

he was so stunned by your smile he didn’t even notice the tray of tea and cakes in your hand. you took a few steps towards him and he shifted in place.

“i brought your favorites,” you spoke softly. “i know you should rest — i just wanted to ask if there was anything i could do to make your recovery easier.”

“no, thank you,” he replied, voice raspy. “i should be well in a few days.”

you nodded and offered an uneasy smile. his eyes flickered over to how once you had set down the tray on his beside, you slowly wiped the palm of your hands down the front of your dress. your eyes were cast absentmindedly in front of you, on the wall — and he could tell something was plaguing your thoughts.

he then also realized there was a book on the tray, much to his dismay.

“someone had mentioned that this was your favorite author. this was published a few days ago,” you began. “i understand that you have been experiencing headaches, and may find it difficult to read… so i wanted to offer to read aloud for you, in case you found these walls dull.”

you smiled — it was an attempt at a joke. he smiled back, but only to be polite. “today i find myself wanting to sleep. i appreciate your offer.”

you smoothed your hands over your dress once more before nodding and forcing a smile. “i’ll leave you to it, then.”

you did not bid him farewell — and he found himself wondering if he was annoyed or grateful. you simply exited the room, and let the door shut softly behind you.

he scrunched his eyes at the door, swallowing hard.

however, he didn’t understand why.

he had wanted this. the perfect wife — knowing when to take a hint and frankly, fuck off. you had done that, perfectly well — so why was he pissed?

he then found himself glaring angrily at his favorite tea cakes. the swap of sugar for honey, another one of his favorites. his favorite author, a book he was excited to read when he was better. he knew that you hadn’t asked about him — he employed people with the requirement to let him know when you were asking questions. he knew your every outward thought and concern, and sometimes even the ones that weren’t shared aloud because they were so evident on your face.

and then he realized: you noticed things like he noticed things.

however, he knew why he went out of his way to notice things, but why did you?

his jaw clenched as he glared angrily at the wall in front of him. he picked up a tea cake and chewed it aggressively, swallowing it half-intact. he coughed at the barely there food, anger rising further to his flushed cheeks.

he needed to understand how, and he most certainly needed to understand why.

he never went out of his way to get to know you, because he thought he already did. he thought he had you boiled down to one thing, and one thing only: passive. incapable of proving to be any sort of roadblock that was capable of getting in his way. now that he knew you shared something with him, what else was shared? was there something he had to look out for? was there something he missed? was he wrong about you?!

he had to know. he had to.

to do that… he called you back that evening. it was two hours before midnight, and he knew you were awake. despite having separate chambers, he knew your daily schedule. you would be reading at this moment, and he would ask you to read for him.

as if on cue, he heard a soft rapping on the wood of the door. he beckoned you in, and you entered the room. you were clad in a night dress with a matching robe over it, all pink silk. this time, he returned your smile.

"i apologize for the late hour," he spoke. "i hope you had not retired for the night."

you shook your head, your tendrils of perfect hair shaking slightly. "i was reading. i am glad you sent for me — can i get you anything?"

"i was hoping the offer to read for me was still on the table," he rasped. "i find myself unable to sleep."

you blinked once, staring at him. in an instant, a small smile was threatening to overtake your face into a large one. you cast your eyes down to a blushing manner, but his eyes narrowed slightly on your face. what would you get out of reading for him? what we he not seeing? what did he miss?

"of course," you responded. "i have not had a chance to read anything by this author. i am glad i have the chance now."

why. why. why.

he did not show his discontent. he simply rested back against the pillows as you reached for the book on his bedside table. you sat down on a chair on his side, and you crossed your legs. he eyed the small portion of the exposed, soft skin of your legs and wondered if your new ploy would be to try and seduce him. however, you quickly covered your skin with the extra material over your robe and placed the book in your lap. once opened, you read for him.

he was not listening to what you were saying, but he was listening to how you said it. the tone, the enunciation, the pauses, and the speed. he wanted to find some clue as to why you had made it a point to be at his beck and call, and he wanted to see how long the act would last until it dropped.

the act would drop. it always did.

the hour would approach midnight before he found that he could not discern anything from how you were reading aloud. his plan did not yield the results intended, as you had not broken from fulfilling his task for two hours. two hours. you had not stopped out of boredom or exhaustion, nor to talk to him. you were poised, soft, and he hated to admit it... but sweet. he found your voice sweet, and he hated it.

and he fucking hated himself for it.

he needed this to end so he could plan further. out of necessity, he yawned. if you were to apt at picking up clues, then hopefully you would believe that he was finally tired. you had succeeded in his given task, and you were free to go.

but you had kept reading for him.

he grew angry.

when you had paused to breathe, he spoke up. "I think i am able to sleep now. thank you, sweetheart, for indulging me."

your eyeline raised with your eyebrows, almost out of surprise. you either were not expecting him to ask you to stop, or you did not want to stop. he wondered which, and if that would answer his ultimate question.

"my apologies, i should've inquired sooner," you replied. "he is a very talented writer... i found myself enjoying his perspective."

you grabbed a piece or scrap paper from his bedside table, and tucked it in between the pages where you left off.

"most people would fold the corner," he remarked, eyes drifting closed — a show.

you smiled. "i didn't want to ruin the integrity of your book. goodnight, coriolanus."

she left with another smile — and all he was left with was confusion, and rage.

the next morning, he found himself wanting to call you back in for a further rouse interview. he would have if he had a plan in place.

that was the second thing about you that annoyed him: you annoyed him to the point where he wanted to act without a plan in place. a loss of control —which he was highly against.

that would have to be righted immediately.

he spent the morning reading the pages that you had already read to brief himself as if he was listening last night. he reasoned with himself that the best course of action would be to ask you to read to him again to see if you had grown comfortable enough to let a few of your true colors slip.

they always slip.

the sudden task that was presented to him gave him a new bout of energy that he needed to inch closer to recovery. it gave him the push he needed to be closer to walking out of this room and continue to run panem, and he was lost grateful to you for giving it to him — almost. at the moment, you were a problem — and that needed to be corrected. immediately.

he found comfort in control, so he was very content with routines. he had grown accustomed to bracing himself for your check-in in the afternoon. however, it did not come until the approaching hours of the evening had almost descended upon the capitol. he waited, and waited, and waited — so long that he considered asking you to come for himself. the hour would approach dinnertime when you had finally asked about his well-being, and he sent for you.

how dare you ask so late in the day, as if you didn't care? he allowed you access to his life that he had denied you for so long, and you return his kindness with carelessness? this would not do. this most certainly would not do.

you had knocked on his door, and he had to stop himself from sounding to eager. he permitted you entry, and you entered with the same soft smile.

"good evening," you greeted.

"hello," he replied, voice still raspy from his sickness.

"I wanted to ask if you need anything," you announced.

he offered a small smile. "i enjoyed our time last night. perhaps you would read for me, again?"

your eyes fell to the floor in a blush. "of course. I was hoping to read more of the book eventually. i found it intriguing."

you sat down in the chair and pulled the book in your lap. as you were opening it, he spoke, "i thought when you had not checked-in in the early afternoon you found the book dull — afraid i would ask for you to read it for me again."

you shook your head as you smiled. "i like his writing very much — i was concerned as to whether i had prevented you from sleeping the night prior, and didn't want to disturb you further."

he swallowed. "why would you have disturbed me?"

your eyes glanced upwards from the pages to rest on his face. coriolanus stared back as slight concern washed over your features, making your lips part and your eyes widen. your tongue darted out from between your lips, and smoothed over the skin of your bottom lip. you responded, "before you fell ill, we hadn't spent much time together and i understand that is because of your position — but, to be frank, i wanted to respect your space.”

your answer perplexed coriolanus. he wanted to find out what type of person you were — and your answers were not yielding the expected results. there was no obvious form of manipulation in your words, which then worried him. were you smarter than he believed you to be? were you as cunning as him? more so?

so he went with what was natural: manipulation.

“i apologize my station has not granted us the freedom to get to know each other further,” he replied, holding your gaze. “it is a regret of mine.”

you smiled in an affirmative manner, like you didn’t believe him but accepted his answer anyway. this expression arose the same feelings he now detested your presence for: he acted without calculating his actions and the outcome they would produce.

“what troubles you?” he asked.

your lips parted and slightly quivered. you were not expecting him to ask.

“i-i was worried that i may not… please you,” you admitted. “that… you may regret our union.”

“you have been a kind and dutiful wife,” coriolanus spoke, eyes holding yours. “there is no regret.”

there was that affirmative smile again. he found himself hating it — wishing it would be replaced by the warm, soft one.

“i guess i was hoping that, when i was married, the marriage would be more than… a union.”

your candor shocked coriolanus. he would never have expected you to say something… so out of turn.

“please, forgive me,” you spoke, slightly laughing and waving your hand in the air. “the hour is almost late and i was hoping to read more. do you still wish me to?”

“please,” he answered and nodded.

you gave him a quick, thankful smile, and began reading.

this would be the second night coriolanus had not listened to a word you had said.

he had gotten his answer, and it was possibly as bad as the one he was actually afraid for.

you were good. pure, innocent, and your outlook on the world untainted. you were not striving to find a loose screw and let the empire fall. you wanted… to support the man who built and kept the empire together. it was worse than anything he could’ve ever imagined — you actually cared for him.

you cared for him, and now coriolanus snow was fucking terrified.

and yet... he had asked you to return to his chambers every night after that.

for research purposes, of course. only research purposes,

to read to him, but his goal was to learn more about you rather than the text.

you would sit there and read until he asked you to stop. when he did, you would close the book, smile at him, place it back on his nightstand, and bid him goodnight.

after, he would wrestle with the blankets and pillows in order to find out how to deal with this.

how had he not expected this?

his only fault was that he neglected to realize how far your shyness would go. you had grown comfortable with him — and you admitted that you wanted something more, something he always felt he could not give. you weren’t shy — you just weren’t open with people you weren’t comfortable with.

he should’ve known. he should’ve. fucking. known.

he didn’t know how to deal with this, if he was being honest with himself.

he told himself that he asked for you every evening to get to know you better, for his own sanity and safety; but then he began to realize he had found out everything he needed to know.

good and honest. how fucking unfortunate.

he saw a part of you, but now he needed to know more.

so what did he do? he sent you flowers. flowers. an arrangement of red roses and lilacs.

he hated himself for the lilacs.

he got somewhere with you when he had made the first move before — maybe this would yield more promising results.

however, it didn’t.

all he received in return was an extra tray of food that had arrived in the afternoon. his favorite tea cakes, and a handwritten thank-you note detailed in your appreciation for the beautiful flowers. you signed your name, and that was it.

she doesn’t make first moves, he thought. she responds to them.

he knew what he had to do.

he found himself feeling better that day — well enough to end his sick leave and return to his matters. dinner was approaching, and he sent for you to join him for a private dinner this evening.

he was washed, dressed, and coiffed within the hour.

he found you in the dining parlor waiting for him, inspecting his large bookcase. you were trying to reach a book a bit above where your height would allow, extending yourself onto your toes. coriolanus walked up behind you, towering over you, and retrieved the book for you.

you glanced up at him with wide eyes. “thank you, coriolanus.”

“what intrigued you?” he asked, grinning softly.

“first one i couldn’t reach. i was working my way up.” you smiled at him, and then the book. “please — you must be hungry. let us eat.”

you sat down at the table across from him. dinner manners were rather stiff and uncomfortable, but your upbringing that was similar to coriolanus’ prevented you from straying from them. you ate in silence for a few moments before you spoke.

“how do you like his new book?” you asked.

coriolanus cleared his throat. “i find it riveting. i wouldn’t have been able to read it for some time if it hadn’t been for you.”

you smiled at your plate, blushing. “his points are very interesting. i was never very interested in politics — so the insight of someone so heavily involved with them is very informative. do you find that your opinions align with his? or does he not share your perspective?”

he appreciated your willingness to engage with him about topics you weren’t very fond of. an underrated trait, not found very often — he had to admit.

“a bit of both,” he responded. “the one thing he does not discuss is how important it is to have a certain type of person or persons in your regime that allows the flow of success to continue.”

you nodded. “you have built a strong administration — i’m sure he would admire what you have to say.”

“what do you believe?” he asked. “about partnerships?”

you swallowed, contemplating your answer. “i think… a successful partnership is where everyone is complimented by another. for instance, someone is better at briefing documents rather than the presentation of them, and another is the opposite.”

“which one are you?” coriolanus inquired.

you paused once more, folding your lip under. he realized that was a sign you were uncomfortable — unaware of how to proceed. after a moment, you answered, “i feel the most confident under a strong leader. i prefer to be behind the scenes. minute details are easier to be taken care of that way. while you and i are different, i respect you for being the strong leader panem needed. i am sure the majority would agree with me.”

now was the time.

“it is easy to be strong when one’s wife makes sure they are well,” he replied, eyes resting on your face. “i hope you know i appreciate your willingness to accept change and make sure needs are met.”

you smiled at him once more, then turned back to your food.

damn, he thought. didnt bite.

“and for being the companion i… didn’t think i would come to enjoy the company of,” he added.

you glanced up at him then, astonishment written in your eyes as plain as the words on the paper you read for him every night. “may i ask you… a question?”

he nodded.

“did you believe you wouldn’t enjoy my company before, or after you had first met me?”

“i don’t understand.”

you swallowed, clearing your throat. “were you… wary of the idea of marriage, or wary of me?”

your gaze did not break from his. you were braver than he thought.

“marriage,” he answered honestly, hoping to witness your reaction.

there was the affirmative smile — the one he hated. “thank you for — for being honest.”

your eyes didn’t wait for a response. you turned back to your food, and left him dumbstruck.

“i hope i have not displeased you,” he stated.

“no, coriolanus,” you spoke. “if i am being honest… i was wary i would not be suitable for you. if i have not displeased you, then i am well.”

“but you stated you wanted more,” he countered, tone even.

“i hoped we would… spend time together,” you answered. “and we have.”

it was coriolanus’ turn to be at a loss for words. what would this admission relay? it only solidified what he was afraid of — you wanted a marriage filled of love, and he was not prepared for that. ever.

“the flowers were beautiful,” you spoke, interrupting his thoughts. “thank you for sending them.”

“your lilac perfume is a wonderful addition to the capitol,” he spoke, unsure where this had come from. “i wanted you to know that.”

you weren't supposed to say that you weren't supposed to tell the truth you weren't supposed

you smiled at him appreciatively, that accompanied a slight twinkle in your eye. you were quick to return to eating, but coriolanus couldn’t stop staring at your face. he realized then that was his new favorite smile.

there was a moment, a small moment, where he wondered whether it would be such a crime if he did allow himself to enjoy your company more than he had. in that moment, he couldn’t think of how it would go wrong. for that moment, you were a simple, low-maintenance, beautiful woman on the other side of the table with him that just liked spending time with him — and he enjoyed that you weren’t a problem. would it so bad if he entertained the idea?

he immediately cut himself off. of course it was a bad idea.

once dinner has finished, he had requested to walk you back your chambers. if time spent together was what kept you at bay, he could manage that. he most certainly could.

when the pair of you had approached the door, you stopped for a moment and paused reaching for the handle. you spoke, “would you… like to come in?”

“not tonight,” he rasped. he gave you a polite smile. “another time.”

he watched as you blinked your eyes a few times and your lips quivered. you didn’t meet his gaze, for it fell — in what appeared to be embarrassment.

oh.

you invited him in to… to…

that he had not expected.

before you had the chance to leave, he swooped down and grabbed your chin in his thumb and forefinger. he pressed his lips to yours ever so softly, holding it there. the moment your breath caught in your throat, there was a strange feeling inside his chest that made him feel like he’d like to quell your worries by catching you off guard another time. and another. and another. and another. he couldn’t have you feeling rejected, no — not when he didn’t want to reject you. he needed heirs, sure — but they could wait. he would contemplate how long later.

once he pulled back, you smiled. inside you were bursting, and you wanted to hurry behind a closed door so he could not see your reaction. he continued to hold your chin and gaze at your face. feeling brave, you looked him in the eye as you bid him goodnight and went into your room.

you left him standing outside your door, facing its wood paneling.

what was he to do?

he wanted to keep you as emotionally far away as possible to avoid anything like this occurring. he was prepared for people who had an ulterior motive… not a young woman who only wanted to be good to her husband.

the worst part was… not every part of him wanted him to keep you away.

would it be so bad, if he had actually courted you?

you were not anyone from his past, no. you were not irresponsible and impulsive, and you could be trusted to remain within a designated role and space. you were rarely outspoken — you never strayed from your cue cards, nor did you get smart in private. you never spoke out of turn, which coriolanus always knew — this was just the first time he was more turned on than he was just grateful.

he reasoned a reward was in order.

he found his knuckles wrapping on the door before he could stop himself.

the small movements inside your apartments stalled for a moment, pulled taut like a string in an instrument. he could picture you — standing still and silent, waiting for an explanation.

then he heard footsteps approaching the door before the door handle turned. when you opened the door, the first thing he saw was your eyes.

those big, beautiful eyes that looked at him with surprise — and the slightest bit of hope. coriolanus would most likely try to convince himself that he stayed completely still to exercise a form of control over you — but deep down, he would never be able to believe that completely.

however… when you reached out with your soft, delicate hand, and pulled at his own — it didn’t matter why he did it, because he won.

he shut the door behind him, keeping your gaze.

“i would be coy and ask if we could spend time together in a... different way than usual…” you began, sighing. “but up until this moment i was convinced we would never…”

coriolanus was in no mood to quell insecurities and anxieties. he understood that words could not compare to actions, and so he would do just that.

coriolanus stepped forward, and pressed his large hands against the sides of your face. for a split moment — you almost looked terrified. he usually relished in that look from others, but with you it only made him concerned — angry, even.

“i don’t know what it is about you.” his voice was shaky. it was the first moment in your entire marriage that coriolanus had shown even a shred of weakness. “you smile, you obey, you take my transgressions like they’re fucking sweets. why?! tell me!”

your big, round eyes were blown wide as your brow was knitted together. your lips were parted in an innocent manner, and it only fueled his anger. one of your hands came up to gently lay across the back of his. “coriolanus — have you ever considered that i just wanted to get to know you?”

his eyes searched yours like they were an important document and he couldn’t believe what bullshit he was reading. his lips pursed in a manner that suggested a sour taste, and you felt your joy slipping, slipping, and slipping.

“coriolanus — if you want to go, then go.” your voice was breaking. you knew he was a cool, hard man — but this? this? it was almost too much. “you don’t have to stay if you don’t —“

he couldn’t take your nonsense anymore. he shut you up with a kiss.

he smashed your lips together like it was the first thing he should’ve done when he walked back into the room. a squeal died in your throat at the contact, but coriolanus held you there and upright. both of your hands found the firmness of his chest for balance. when he pulled away — he barely did. he kept his lips an inch away from yours as little tuffs of air pushed past. he leaned his forehead against yours, almost bonding the two of you.

“my greatest displeasure will be making you regret this,” he rasped, eyes screwed shut.

your breathing began to hasten as you contemplated your next words. you began to stroke coriolanus’ hands with your thumbs, hoping to coax him. “you say that like it’s inevitable.”

“it is not far from,” he choked through anger and sadness.

you couldn’t help but stare back at him as he almost glared at you — but then you realized that wasn’t the case. he wasn’t glaring at you — he was glaring through you. whatever traumatized him, whatever made him so distrustful of the world around him and the people in it… you realized then that you represented all of that to him. you had to be different. you had to show him that you were different than all of that.

“i’ve trusted you,” you whispered, almost pleading. “i would like for you to try and trust me. please, coriolanus… i’ve never asked you for anything — just this once —“

coriolanus shook his head, dismissing you. “it’s corio.”

he slammed his lips to yours. his kiss was that of a fight; burning with every cut of anger, frustration, desperation, and sadness in his soul. you weren’t sure if he accounted for your inexperience, but you let him lead as you swallowed all of his suffering. you knew you may never be everything you wanted to be for him — but for this moment, or for whatever he would allow — you could be his escape, and he could be yours.

just this once, you both thought. just this once.

his hands were on both sides of your face, caging you in as you were at the mercy of his bittersweet affection. you tried to keep up with him, almost afraid that you wouldn’t be enough for him — but corio didn’t care. he couldn’t have cared less as he backed you into the foot of the bed. he didn’t stop kissing you as the back of your legs hit your soft mattress, and you were forced to sit down.

with his tongue tangling with yours, you managed to lift your hands to the top buttons of his shirt. he batted your hands away and went to work on his own buttons. you reached behind for your zipper to your dress and attempted to undue it.

corio then pushed your hands away with that too — ripping the zipper down its track and pushing the sleeves down your shoulders.

“corio —“ you gasped through the kiss, struggling to keep up with him.

he pulled away for a short moment, staring into your eyes. “i have denied myself being with you for so long — nothing is stopping me now.”

he held the glare, and you could only stare back at him in fright. however, that was when you realized that he had felt the same way, or at least similar — you both wanted each other, and had been scared to approach the other. your heart filled with warmth, threatening to explode, but all you could do was nod.

he seemed to calm down then, glancing down towards your lips where he prodded your bottom lip with the tip of his numb. “i have wondered for so long what it would be like to kiss my perfect wife — and now that i know, i don’t think i’ll ever give it up.”

you smiled at that. “can i tell you what i have been wondering?”

his eyes met yours once more, almost a warning. you didn’t falter, though. he replied, “yes?”

“i’ve wondered what it would be like to please you,” you spoke softly, a pink hue rising to your cheeks.

his flat look broke then, softening. a smirk greeted his features and you could see his confidence in himself rise. “my lovely wife wants to please me?”

“yes,” you spoke, holding your breath. “if you’ll let me.”

bright and striking, flames of mischief came to light in his irises. emotions of excitement and fear rose within you, and you weren’t sure which was stronger. all you could do was watch as your strong, powerful, larger than life husband stood over you, chin raised, looking down his nose at you, as he unbuckled his belt. his pants and briefs, once around his ankles, were discarded — but you didn’t see that. you couldn’t look away from his eyes — holding you, and your gaze, in place.

it was like you were an enemy he was testing. you didn’t know what he expected, let alone what would make him happy — but you hoped his expectations were slightly lower in light of your inexperience. you swallowed the hard rock of nervousness in your throat, stood up, and gestured for him to sit down on the edge of the bed. he raised an eyebrow at you, but complied. you sat down on your knees in between his, and waited patiently for direction.

“can you…” you began. “can you teach me?”

he smirked once more. “take me in your hand.”

you bent your head lower, and grabbed him by the base. he was hard and warm in your hand as you saw him trying to fight the twitching feeling in his limbs. his muscles were tight, afraid to show weakness. you grew uncomfortable — you didn’t want him weak, but you did want him to feel comfortable enough with you to enjoy a fucking blowjob.

holding his muscle upright, you stuck your tongue out and licked around the tip of his cock. he was salty, but smelled so masculine after a long day. his scent infiltrated all of your senses and had captured your attention. it made you hungry, greedy — so much so that you closed your lips around his cock and began to suck.

he jumped then. “teeth,” he spat.

you paled in embarrassment and fright — but didn’t allow your fear to show for long. you adjusted your tongue and lips — so that your top lip was folded under your top set, and your outstretched tongue covered your bottom set. hollowing out your cheeks, you took him into your mouth once more.

a low hum filled his chest.

you couldn’t see him, and could barely hear him — corio was being a selfish lover and not letting you know whether or not he was enjoying himself. he told you once before you were doing something wrong, so you tried to trust that he would tell you.

that was easier said than done, frankly. with your free hand, you reached up and began to massage his sack in the soft skin of your palm. the hum in his chest turned deeper and louder, and you felt his hips twitch once.

maybe it shouldn't have mattered that he wasn't vocal — but it wasn't like he was shy. you would not fault him for not doing something he didn't want to do, but it was like he was denying you that. if you were making him feel good, and he was fighting the volume of his moans — how fucking dare he deny you of that! there you were, constantly at his beck and call, and he couldn't even freely moan with you? you were obedient, quiet, grateful, everything he wanted — but this? this? too much. absolutely too much of an ask.

you had to do something.

"mr. president," you cooed, twisting your soft tongue around the tip of his cock. "you're awfully quiet above me."

he let out a laugh as he struggled to keep his composure. one of hands found the back of your head as his fingers struggled to tangle themselves in between your strands. they were tugging and pulling, but there was no strength in his grip. his grip — wouldn't catch. couldn't catch. corio, you husband — struggled day in and day out to keep the control in the capital and inside his castle. there was a part of you that believed he just needed to let go, let someone else be in control — but you were his pretty little wife after all. you had until death to try everything. losing control could wait, because tonight... tonight was about making corio the grateful one for once.

you let your loose grip run circles up and down the length of his cock. his shaft was wet and thick, begging the attention of the light from above so the skin was able to glisten. the tip of his cock, red and angry, almost neglected — never had you seen something so delicious, nor deserving of affection. your lips, swollen, wrapped themselves around the tip of his cock as you sucked. notes of salt and sweat mixed together on your tongue, and you hummed at the taste.

"taste sweet, mrs. snow?" you heard from above you. your eyes glanced up to find corio's eyes glazed over with pleasure. his eyelids were drooping over, and all you could think about how badly you wanted to make him close his eyes in bliss. your eyes watched his eyes, but his eyes watched the way your mouth sucked him in. "being so good for me. let your husband see what else you can do."

your ears perked in interest. you didn't know what he meant, but you were intrigued to see if he would teach you.

"please... show me what you like," you spoke, extending your neck as he lowered his face to yours.

"so eager to please..." he spoke, staring down at you in awe. his hand slid down for your scalp to cup your cheek. he looked into your eyes like he was studying you — searching for something surface level. a flaw, or something good... you weren't sure. "i suppose some would say i'm lucky."

you didn't like the sound of that... but you didn't let it show. you gave him a hint of a smile. "i don't think it matters what anyone else thinks. i think what matters is you telling me what you like... so you can decide if you're lucky or not."

he chuckled at that, but his laugh was reserved. always holding back, your husband. "you really want to be a good little wife for me... don't you?"

you fell into the strength behind the hand on your face and keened into his touch. his hand was warm against your skin. "please, corio... please let me."

he stood then, and your gaze raised with his body. you gazed up at him as he stared down at you. there his eyes went again — searching yours. he stood closer to you then, bending down slightly. "it would please me if, at any point, you told me to stop because of the pain. i don't want to hurt you." his voice was low and soft then, immediately striking you. "can i trust you to do that? hmm?"

"i'll tell you," you replied, nodding your head. "i promise."

"never break a promise you make to me," he warned.

you nodded your head once more, unsure how to proceed. he led you over to the side of the bed where he gestured for your to lie down. with the passing of time, you became more and more aware of how bare you both were in front of each other. you were ready to let down every fence of insecurity for the man before you... but there were still walls of his that threatened to come down. he was hot and cold every other moment, it seemed... and you weren’t even sure where to begin.

“husband,” you spoke, unsteadily, as he found his place between his legs. “you seem so… distrustful of me. what can i do? please, corio, i just want this moment to be special for us — for you.”

there his eyes went — searching yours again. it was like he was rereading a page in a book over and over, hoping to find the hidden message in the black and white scripture. his eyes, going back and forth, appeared to be looking over unclear smudges and scribbles as his lips began to purse. you almost said something — stopped him from withdrawing into himself, but he moved before you could.

he sat back against the pillows, which faced a mirror across your bed. you rose curiously, hoping that he would finally give you some direction. he simply took your hand in his, and gestured for you to come closer. “come,” he spoke.

in his lap, maybe? you thought curiously. you went to throw your leg over his, before he stopped you. with a furrowed brow, you watched as he adjusted you so your back laid against his chest.

“do as i say,” he whispered against your ear, sending shivers up and down your spine.

your eyes were cast to the side, his outline in your peripheral vision. you nodded, letting your lips fall apart. you felt one of his hands on the soft skin of your thigh, grazing upwards towards your hips. you almost let your eyes fall closed, hoping to lose yourself in the sensations, before corio stopped you.

with that same hand, he reached upwards and grasped your chin between his fingers. your eyes shot open as he moved your head to now face the mirror, and the pair of you in it.

shallow breaths were pushing past your lips as you stared into the mirror. your cheeks were flushed, your hair in a slight disarray, and your lips were swollen. with a flutter of your eyelashes, your gaze flickered towards corio’s reflection. your husband was always perfect — so even the slight persuasion from tidiness was a remarkable sight to you. his eyes were focused — unable to remain cool, calm, and collected as usual.

his eyes, you thought. his eyes will always tell me.

“you will watch,” corio spoke suddenly, voice hard. “you will keep your eyes on my hands. you stray, and i leave. understand?”

you nodded, looking into his eyes through the mirror.

he cocked an eyebrow.

“yes,” you spoke, almost breathless. “i understand.”

corio’s hand then found its way to your center. the tips of his finger tips, soft and hot, lightly drew a line up and down your slit. your eyes wouldn’t leave the mirror — focused on his fingertips. it was like your skin knew every correct button to tap, tap, tap. every part of you was so sensitive, so keen to his touch that you were embarrassed. you felt so pathetic against his chest, bent to his will — but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. the voice in your head was whining and hoping you would give in, just give in, let down your guard, give in, forget manners. you wanted to keep your composure as long as possible, but when corio’s middle finger found your clit…

oh… you were done for.

one of your hands immediately snapped up to find corio’s bicep and clutch onto whatever foundation he could give. you didn’t dare let your eyes meet his, even in the mirror — what if he stopped? what, huh? what then? when you were the closest you had been ever? you couldn’t allow yourself to be greedy, not when he was being oh, so selfless.

the circles he was drawing taunted your ability remain calm. he rolled your tiny clit underneath the weight of the tip of his finger and pressed down with every circle. it pushed, and pulled, and fucking pried at every fiber of your being. you could only force yourself up and back against corio, whining like a pathetic mess.

“running away from me, my sweet?” he whispered in your ear. “when i’m being so kind?”

his words bit at your ear, reminding you of your position in his world. your eyes were threatening to drift closed, hoping, praying, that corio would let you slip this once from your responsibilities. naive, you were, to believe that.

“remember our deal, wife,” he darkly cooed in your ear. “one request was all i had. i refuse to be denied it.”

“i know, i know…” you whined, rolling your hips with his hand. “it just feels so good, corio… i’ve never… no one’s ever…”

“i can tell you never knew how bad your body would crave it,” he spoke, nipping at your earlobe. “even your pussy obeys me, drenching my fingers. too sweet for this world, aren’t you?”

“just wanna be sweet for you, corio,” you whined as your vision began to blur.

the approaching orgasm was anything but a warm and fuzzy feeling around you. it was hot and jagged — making your muscles jerk, yet force your hips to roll into every movement of corio’s. the cloud over your brain felt like a warm haze of the finest whisky or tobacco the capital could offer. you were numb, drunk, and unable to process the world around you unless it was corio. his touch, his taste, his scent, his look, his orders… everything was setting you off and keeping you in place all at once. your body was hot to the touch, feverish as it tried to fight your sophistication and just fucking —

“that’s it, sweetheart. so focused on the mirror you can’t even find the strength to let go for me,” he spat, pressing a kiss to your cheek and breathing in your scent. “ride my hand like the good girl you are. you wanted to show me, remember?”

tears were brimming your eyes and blurring your vision. your teeth were gritted and bared for him. one of his hands came up to loosely grasp your throat as your hips began to spasm. it was so much, too much, so much —

“corio, please —“ you cried. “please let me look away. i can’t — i have to cry, i can’t —“

there was no softness in his movements against your aching clit. corio had now employed two fingers to dip into your core, collect your slick, and rub it along your sensitive bud in harsh circles. it sent your mind through a suffocating tube and gasping for air. you were begging, pleading — unsure what would happen if you were denied the ability to finish in peace. you began to cry in frustration and fear, so sensitive to the touch and his approval.

“corio…” you whimpered. “please, please let me…”

“do it,” he spat, holding your throat and kissing your face. “show your husband how fucking messy you can be for him.”

you grasped onto him and threw yourself back.

it was like a rollercoaster. twists and turns, yanking your body every which way. corio’s body rocked with yours as the sensations climbed and fit into every single one of your limbs. your lungs, burning, were screaming for air as you tried to fight for consciousness. the world was white, milky, foggy — unable to navigate, let alone exist in. all you could feel was corio’s body moving with yours and coaxing you through the most insane moment of your entire life.

tears fell down your face, and you struggled to conceal it. corio refused to let you hide from him. he bent his face low to yours and pressed the side of his face against the side of yours.

his breaths were heavy, similar to yours.

“corio…” you whimpered, almost whining.

“i know, sweetheart,” he cooed. “so good for me, weren’t you? asking so obediently and politely.”

you nodded, pressing your forehead against his. “i’m sorry that i was —“

“what’re you sorry for?” he demanded.

you clenched your jaw. “i was — i am — i’m worried i was too much — i was so — out of control —“

he shut you up with a kiss. coriolanus snow refused to allow you to continue, or else he knew he would be offended if he had let you finished.

“i wanted that,” he stated. “every bit of that. what, you don’t find it agonizing to be prim and fucking proper every day?”

you laughed uneasily, a bit spooked by his outburst of aggression. “i thought you — i thought that was what you wanted from me.”

he shook his head. “out there — it’s necessary. in here, when it’s only the two of us? don’t ever hide yourself from me. you must promise.”

you swallowed as your haze began to disappear. “only if you promise the same."

you saw his jaw pulse from the corner of your eye. “i promise.”

“i promise,” you returned.

you quickly reconnected your lips. you couldn't let the moment slip away. you needed to seize him while he was there — trusting you for the first time in your entire relationship. you found both of your hands on the side of his face and held him to you. corio fought for control, but you gave in immediately. the need for him to need you was stronger and more satisfying that anything else you could've experienced in that moment. you turned around, straddling his lap and pushing him down to the bed.

everything you were doing was improper: grabbing your husband, forcibly kissing him, sitting in his lap, pushing him down... you almost stopped. you almost gave into the insecurity and made friends with with meekness and shyness once more. however, you made a promise — and you intended to keep it.

"i want you inside me, corio," you whispered against his lips. "please, i want to feel you —"

"again, sweetheart?" he ripped himself from your lips to grunt out his teasing. "one taste, and you're addicted?"

you hummed approval against his lips, tangling your tongue with his. with one hand on the back of your head, holding your face to his, corio's other hand fished between the pair of you and grasped his leaking cock in his hand. the tip was red and swollen, aching for some stimulation or attention. he spread his precum over his tip and with a firm hand, corio slid his cock inside of you.

you arched your back away from corio. the feeling of him being fully sheathed inside of you bent your attention in every which was. both of your hands cradled the back of his head into your chest, where he found himself nestled between your breasts. his breaths were hot and heavy, moist against your skin. his swollen lips found one of your perky nipples and sucked it into his mouth, caving to his primal urges. coriolanus snow wanted every part of you for himself, and needed to place that claim on every part of your body. he wanted your thighs to shake and ache from being locked around him, your fingers to tremble from your hard grip, and he wanted your lips to be bruised from how hard he made you bite them. and, most of all, he wanted every loud moan to rip itself from your aching throat and fill the perfectly painted walls of this damned room.

he cursed you when you threw a hand over your mouth, and he immediately ripped it away. "don't you fucking dare," he spat.

you ignored him. he was your husband, and he was the scariest man you would ever meet, and yet you ignored him. most of all, your hips ignored him. they began to roll against his own the best they could for their inexperience. up, down, and grinding down was the best they could manage before corio grabbed you by the flesh of your hips and moved you to his liking. and when your mouth parted and a loud cry made your throat shake when he twisted your hips forward, he knew he found the spot.

"do not ever deny me what i am owed," he spat, fucking into that spot that wrapped a tight band around your abdomen. "i want to hear how good i am making you feel, and i will. i get to hear. those are mine. i am owed those."

again, you ignored him. what did he expect when your eyes began to roll back into your head and you began to match his pace? you were close, you were so, so close...

that was when corio grabbed you by the chin, refusing to let up his pace. his eyes were full of darkness, yet focus. like he had found his prey. you tried to focus, tried to give him the respect the deserved... but you couldn't. your mind was swimming, and your arching cunt was dripping down his length and onto the skin of his pelvis. you were lost. so fucking lost.

"yours, corio!" you whined. "all yours. only yours."

his voice was gruff against your lips as his thrust became rougher. "say it again."

your eyes began to drift closed as you leaned your head into the crook of his neck, rolling your hips against his. his cock had found its way to the most sensitive and purest part of you and ripped down every wall you had. you sobbed, "yours, corio. only yours."

corio threw you off of him and your back hit the bed. he was on top of you in an instant. he threw your legs up and pressed them against your chest. with your ankles on his shoulders, he pushed himself inside of you and began to relentlessly punish your perfect fucking pussy.

"mine, you got that?" he spat against your ear. "i have watched you, day after day, put on this fucking act! perfect and proper — but i made a proper whore out of the most desirable woman in the capital, didn't i? and now she's mine — forever warming my bed."

"forever, corio," you whined. your sobs were music to his ears, going straight to his cock. your cunt was raw from the friction and slick, unsure if corio should stop or keep going — but you didn't let him guess. "inside me, corio, please... want it to bad. been so good for you..."

his hand was around your throat and demanding your attention. "as if i'd waste a drop when every man in the capital would be able to see you round with my child. you want that wife? my seed, my child? you want to be fully claimed by me?"

"yes," you cried, tears falling down your cheeks. "give it to me, husband, please —"

corio reached down in between your hips and rubbed your clit with whatever energy he had left. his thrust were growing sloppy, but his movements against your swollen bud were worse. he was hissing in your ear as he continued the assault against you. your moans were loud as they escaped your lips and filled the room, setting corio's skin on fire. sweat dripped down from his brow and down his neck to mingle with yours as your second orgasm of the evening began to approach. it snapped the rubber band in your lower belly and you immediately sobbed into corio's neck. his hips continued to rut in you, forcing you down onto the bed as he swallowed all of your sobs for himself. your nails dug into his back and down his spine, hoping to rip parts from him that he had taken from you.

when corio came, you were in a stupor. cock drunk with your mouth hanging open, dazed. when corio came, one of his hands grabbed your messy pile of hair, wrenching at the roots. he pulled you to the side to suck on the sensitive skin of your neck as he pumped your cunt full of his cum. your walls were hot and sticky, full of him, but it only caused the most sickeningly warm feeling to spread throughout you. every primal need of yours was satisfied, and corio could see every bit of it on your face. the pride that welled within your husband... shameful. no man should be in possession of such an ego boost like making the prettiest, more desired woman in all of panem break from all bounds of social etiquette. you were warm, and wet, and craving every bit of his touch, so he couldn't deny you... not anymore. not when he felt the same. with each sob that left your mouth, he felt a kick in the pit of his stomach as his balls throbbed. never in his life had a woman ripped from him what he had taken from her, cheeks hot and muscles worn out.

he would regret it in the morning, maybe, but not now. no — not now.

"husband, forgive me, but..." you spoke. "my mind is a mess. i don't think i can read to you this evening."

corio rolled his eyes and laughed. "that good?"

you pressed a kiss to his lips as you hummed in approval. "never wait that long to bed your wife again."

he chuckled darkly. "watch it, sweetheart."

---

love u guys sm sorry it was so long ty for reading love u love u love u

-L xooxoxooxox