#over a year since ive cut my hair....

[manaosdeuwu]

cutting my hair and it's going soooo wrong. i might just go bald again

[sualne]

drawing my ocs cause i missed them

[bobmckenzie]

me: people are way too vain we really need to stop putting so much stock into our appearances it's not that serious

also me: cuts my hair too short and feels PHYSICALLY ILL over it

[basslinegrave]

entering flat hair era for a bit. and let it be a bit greasy too lets see how that affects the trangenderism i cant be putting this much effort

[fardf150]

sometimes a girl needs to cut his hair too short for comfort in his desperation to not have long hair and thats ok. it's all part of the process

[evie-sturns]

ʙᴇᴅᴛɪᴍᴇ - ᴄʜʀɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ

summary: chris and you have twins together, lola and maggie, bedtime is always a struggle with them.

contains: fluff, kissing, swearing.

------------------------..••°°°°••..--------------------—-

11:37pm

chris and i have been dating since highschool, 4 years ago i gave birth to twins

"girls! bedtime please, i didn't realise the time." i call out, opening the door to their shared bedroom.

maggie and lola are bouncing on their double bed while squealing, i walk over to them, my hands resting on my waist. "are you meant to be doing this?"

they both pause to look over at me, innocence spread across their face.

"no.." maggie says quietly, i nod with a small smile

"are you ready for bed?" i ask as the girls flop down on the bed, "yes!" lola says throwing her arms up with a cute grin.

i pull up the covers over them, "stay in bed for the whole night okay? daddy will be in the kitchen until late, so bother him alright?" i say, pressing kisses to their foreheads.

walking out of their room, i flick off the lights behind me. i close their door softly and go out into the kitchen.

chris is sitting on a dining table chair, his phone in one hand and a pepsi can in the other.

"they asleep?" chris asks, putting his phone down "thankfully." i reply with a sigh, sitting down on chris's lap with a heavy sigh.

he plants a long kiss into my hair "i love you so much."

i flip myself around to straddle chris, moving my hair to one side i collide our lips together desperatly. "fuck.." chris breathes into the kiss.

bang.

a loud bang comes from the kids room, i instantly pull away from the kiss, my eyebrows scrunching i throw myself off of chris's lap.

i hear excitable laughing coming from outside their door. i swing open their door, the bedside table is tipped over, maggie and lola are giggling while throwing stuffed animals at each other.

"lola and maggie." i yell sternly, their heads instantly snap round to look at me, their face dropping.

"do you know what time is it? almost midnight." i glare at them

"i am going to put you to bed and if i hear another noise come from this room, dad is going to come in here and be very angry." im cut off by lola

"mommy but- but maggie keeps taking the blanket and my stuffie." she whines.

i shake my head and shut the door for the second time tonight.

"chris-" i say walking into the kitchen "shh i know." he says, grabbing my waist and picking me up. i groan into his shoulder as he walks us into the living room.

"lets watch a movie okay?" chris says calmly, the warm sleves of his crewnecks wrapped around me.

he plonks us down on the couch, i lay on his body comfortably.

-

1:34am

"this is the best part shush!!" i giggle.

"mooom!" i hear lola laugh as she runs into the room, clutching the ear of her bunny toy in one hand.

i look over at chris, whose rubbing his eyes with his ringed hands.

"maggie wet the bed." she points to her bedroom with a snort, covering her smile with her stuffed animal.

chris sits up, moving me off him and walking over to lola. he scoops her up with one arm, looking into her eyes he starts "did you hear what mom said?" he asks, maintaining eye contact with lola.

"well mommy's stupid!" lola says sassily, my jaw goes slack.

"lola no." chris says, more stern than ive ever heard him. he carries lola out of the room.

i lay back on the couch, closing my eyes and instantly drifting to sleep.

9:39am (the next day)

the harsh sunlight hits my body from the window to my left. i sit up, dazed and somehow in pyjamas, even though i fell asleep in jeans and a tanktop.

"what the fuck.." i groan, my eyes adjusting to the blinding light.

chris walkss into the living room "hey!! you're awake." he says happily.

"oh yeah hope you dont mind, i changed you last night after i changed the girls sheets, you were knoocked outt though." he says with a laugh.

"oh shit wait-" he says, doing a full 180° out of the living room.

he comes back in about a minute, hes holding lola and maggie, one in each hand. theyve both got small cards in their hands and a guilty expression on their face.

"chris what is this?" i ask, standing up off the couch.

"mommy i'm very sorry for being awake late last night." lola says, chris sets her down on two feet and she trots up to me, handing me the card.

the cards are in chris's hand writing, but has a drawing made by lola on the front.

"she told me what to write." chris clarifies setting down maggie aswell.

maggie runs up to me, "and im sorry for wetting the bed but dad says it wasn't my fault and you were just tired and grumpy and it was okay -.."

shes cut off by chris's hand over her mouth "shh shush".

"christopher!" i laugh, slapping his arm with a scoff.

—-----------------------..••°°°°••..-------------------—-

got a good feeling bout this one team!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[spacebaby1]

Heyyyyy. Ive read your content and i loved it. Im so glad requests are open!. If you don't mind, how about a Rindou Haitani x gf reader.

- Where she comes to visit them during their time in juvie. And she just laughs at their haircuts, especially Rindou's. Saying it was better than the old one he use to have (blue hair, bald sides.)

-she still has a bunch of photographs of those bald sides. And she still teases him bout it even after he grew his hair out.

I absolutely love this idea. I'll write one with each brother separately.💕🙂‍↕️ This is such a cute idea!

It became a weekly routine for you to wait for Friday and get to visit Rindou since the incident; they were sentence to four years in juvenile, it's already been two years and you'd never miss the visitation day.

You waited patiently, tapping your fingers on the table in front of you with a sigh. You heard the door open, and you looked up for a second, then looked away. But you slowly looked up as Rindou stood in front of you. Rindou was expecting a hug like you'd usually hug him; a silence filled the room between the two of you."Okay, Ursula," you wheezed, slapping your hand over your mouth, before getting up and hugging Rindou and touching his new hair, "cute!" You wheezed, unable to hold your laughter back. Rindou rolled his eyes; there's no way he'll get away from your teasing. "Stop laughing at my hair."

"I'm not! I'm not, jellyfish, " you snorted while laughing and couldn't stop wheezing, slamming your fist on the table as tears rolled down your eyes. That's how hard you were laughing. "I'll go if you keep laughing." You grabbed his hand and moved to the chair next to him, still holding his hand, "No, I'm not gonna laugh. I'm sorry, babe. I'm just-wow- I mean - i- uh, it's too purple, it's just sudden, when did you even change it? I thought it was not allowed to dye your hair in here," you asked, running your hands through his soft purple hair. "Well, we thought we'd change it -" you raised your brow, "we? Did Ran turn into a jellyfish, too?" You started wheezing at your own joke. Rindou flicked your forehead, unable to hold his own smirk; he just loved the way you laughed, and if he's the reason of your laughing like that, then he'll take it. "No, you dummy, he cut his hair extra short." You hissed, "Wait till his girl sees him. Aww, but you look so cute with this hairstyle. I'm honestly sho-" You couldn't finish the sentence before you fell in another fit of laughter and tapping your hand aggressively on the table Rindou gave up and chuckled with you, "Is it that bad?" You gasped, looking at him, "No, absolutely not babe. It's actually stylish, to be honest. Well, at least it's still long, and I can get to play with it. You know I love your hair." He looked at you with a raised brow, and you grinned wide, "Come on, I missed you so much!" You hugged him, "Wow I feel like I'm hugging a different man." He hummed as you laughed, "I missed you more. Stop calling me jellyfish, you silly girl." You nuzzled your face in his neck, "I'm your silly girl. Ursula." He bit your cheek making you giggle, "Don't call me that, call me baby." You rolled your eyes, holding his hands and placing a kiss on his knuckles, "my sweetheart, my baby, my beautiful Rindou." You pulled your phone and took a picture of him and laughed before scrolling through and showing him his old picture, "this is my boyfriend, do you know hi-" you wheezed dropping your head in his chest as he joined you in laughing at you silly jokes.

[daenysthedreamersblog]

SUN BLEACHED FLIES- A STRANGERS STORY (IV)

God loves you, but not enough to save you

So, baby girl, good luck taking care of yourself

But I always knew that in the end no one was coming to save me

So I just prayed and I keep praying and praying and praying

summary: life was good, well as good as it could be always living on the end of president snow's leash dreaming of the freedom you don't even want

pairings: president!coriolanus snow x district6!reader

warnings: MDNI!! BLOOD! violence, power imbalance, coercion, slapping, choking, murder, death, suicide, gore, smut!!, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, dub-con, knives!!

notes: omgg i love these two and i hope i did them justice in this probable final piece of theirs, could have been rougher but sometimes u got to let the story write u ya know anyways!! enjoy my little psychopaths

His head moves over yours in beautiful slow motion, blond strands brushing against your forehead, sweat sliding down his nose to drip onto your parted lips. You drink it like holy water, like his sweat is the only thing that you can keep down as he thrust into you. Blue eyes bore into your own, burrowing down deep into you decrepit soul, or where it used to be, you had traded it over to him long ago for this, for him. You run your hands down wet naked skin as his movement slowed, as he spills inside of you with a teeth grinding groan.

The world comes back into focus as you stare up at his face watching him push curling blond hair off of his forehead. He brings his mouth down to let his teeth graze your jaw. You close your eyes as he pulls out of you, that ever gnawing emptiness replacing him, and slides next to your body, arms remaining locked around your waist. "Have dinner with me tonight." He trails his mouth up your neck. You open your mouth to remind him you had dinner with him every night in your pretty cage of a bedroom, "Downstairs." You turn to take in his face. "I have a surprise for you."

You answer by rolling over on top of him.

Later in the evening he sends his team of stylist to your room to get you ready. They put your hair into a delicate messy up-do and a layer of makeup before slipping on the champagne satin gown. You only were allowed to get dressed up for every Hunger Games when he paraded you around for everyone to see, then whisked you away to fuck you against the bathroom wall for everyone to hear. They leave you in a gentle silence letting you stare at your reflection for far longer than you should. You never recognized yourself, like that girl who's name had been reaped didn't exist anymore, had never existed at all. Your reflection was simply a ghost, a reminder of what he had turned you into, this hallow needy pliant shell, so you stand up and leave the room heels softly clicking against his wooden floor not believing much in ghost.

He's sitting at the head of the table drinking brown liquor out of a glass cup as he watches you walk into the room.

You take the seat on his right.

"You look nice." You watch as he leans forward to fill your glass up with white wine. You avoid grabbing it too quickly, forcing yourself to drink it slow instead of chugging it back. He liked to limit your alcohol intake, only letting you have it on special occasions which apparently was tonight.

This was the dance you always had been in with him since you won. It had been years since he locked you away here, years since you decided to not even bother trying to run away, maybe didn't even want to. You weren't even sure if you had ever wanted anything besides him. He had gotten married, he had children, the games continued, the world moved on, but the two of you were stuck in this suspended moment of time with each other.

"I'm having Livia and the children moved." He said cutting into his food. You sipped on your wine. "It's for the best they're not here."

"Won't you miss them?" You didn't see them often, especially Livia. At first she would come to dinner with the two of you, but once the children came you all had decided it best if they did not see you. You knew she still sometimes listened outside your door when her husband fucked you, but usually on nights she had too much to drink.

He sneered, "Not her." He didn't like her, but he did find enjoyment with his children. He wasn't overly affectionate with them, nor a very present parent but he did put an effort into making sure they were raised properly. They had once stumbled upon you in the greenhouse, and for a moment the world seemed to make pretend the four of you were one big happy family as he let you show them the few bluebells you had planted in the corner where no one could see. You saw him in their little faces, their bright blue eyes, and you wanted to please them just as much, make them proud of you.

But they weren't him, and you didn't care for anything that wasn't.

You pretended you needed to leave, and he went along with it as you dismissed yourself and vowed to never see them again. You didn't want to scare them, scare yourself with too many wrong feelings.

"Is that the surprise?" It would be nice to move more freely within his home without running into their little faces, running into Livia who despised you.

He put more food onto your plate shaking his head. "No. I have news of your parents." You sat up straighter. You hadn't been back to District 6 since he put you on that train and you knew he would never let you go back even if you asked, even if you wanted to. You weren't sure if you missed them, you know you should but it was hard to feel anything besides your hunger for him. It did puzzle you they never came asking for you, never tried to find you to bring you home, never tried to save you. You assumed they had been paid off or-!

"They're dead."

Your heart drops, it was a strange feeling. "What?"

He waved his hand like it was nothing, like they were nothing. "Morphling overdose." You furrowed your brows shaking your own head. No, they weren't addicts, they hated that you had drank so much after the Games. You're spiraling, so lost in trying to figure out how it happened you almost miss his confession, "They wouldn't stop asking about you."

Your vision tunneled in on his face. "You-you did it?"

You catch your slip right as his hand makes contact with your face snapping your head to the side. Don't stutter. But now your cheek was stinging with the consequences of your insubordination. Gentle fingers cup under your chin to turn your reddened face towards him, "They would have taken you from me." He spoke it so softly that you figured it had come from kindness.

What had he said to you all those nights ago within a thrown away plea, the sentence you had unwillingly agreed to that sealed your fate. 'Did you mean?' He whispered, 'That you don't want anyone to take you away from me.'

He runs his finger along your arm so gently tracing the blue veins like he too was thinking on the fond memory, "I only gave them the morphling; it isn't my fault they took so much of it." You close your eyes; he had gotten them hooked on morphling to the point they had overdosed and died all because they asked about you.

They had asked about you.

The hand gripping your wine glass squeezes too hard and the glass shatters around the table. Had they missed you? Did they love you? They had to have to ask him about you, but it's so hard to remember it, so hard to make your brain picture what that felt like. You know he's looking at you, can feel his eyes burning into your skull as you stare at the broken pieces, your blood dripping onto the edges. You grab the biggest piece and jump across the table at him. He roars as you jam it down into his shoulder reeling back with his own cup and smashing it across your head.

"I did it for you!" Your body flies to the side, cool marble meeting your skin, as he straddles your leg, hands coming around your neck too quickly, strangling you.

"Sir?" You hear his guards asking if they need to shoot you, they were always ready to.

He glances over his shoulder at them while you clawed at his wrist, legs flailing out trying to breath, "It's fine!" He looks back at you letting go of your throat admiring the color returning to your face, "It's fine." He grinds his teeth contemplating his next move, then he's clicking his tongue at you as you heave breaths. "I thought you'd be happy." He's sliding his hand up your thigh, "Aren't you happy?" Fingers meet your bare, soaked cunt, "Come on tell me what I want to hear." He pushes two fingers inside of you and you bite down on your bottom lip holding in the trained response, holding in the war raging inside of your cursed bleeding heart. You felt so alone in the world, but you weren't, you had him in every tortured version of this, you had him. His hand shifts, thumb pressing down on your clit and your mouth parts in a weak whimper. You glanced up at him expecting satisfaction, but cool anger greets you, "I thought you had let that pathetic life go."

"Th-!"

He pulls his hand out yanking you upward by your arm and throws you into the table bending your body around the wood, dishes clattering under you. "Maybe you need a reminder of how good you have it here." He rips your dress up around your hips baring your nakedness to him. You barely have time to register it before he slams into you. You gasp out against shattered silverware, glass poking into you as he starts to brutally thrust into you. "You don't have anyone else now." Your hands grasp for purchase on the table runner tears prickling your eyes, you're not sure what you're crying for, "You don't need anyone else." You try to pick up your head confusion and confirmation melding in your bones, but he slams it back down abusing your cervix with every deep thrust into you. "They were nothing!" His hips snap against yours, "I saved you! I am all you need." His hand snakes around your body pressing into your clit and you moan in agreement. He's right; he was all you needed. Not that life you had grieved, not the rumble of trains leaving the district, not the oil coating your father's hands or the tea your mother served. Your eyes squeeze shut as your body relaxes around him letting strange memories fade away like strange mechanical smoke. You arch your back for him. "There's my darling bluebell." You hear the smile in his voice and you melt into his skin knowing this was truly everything. You don't even listen to your broken heart weeping that they had asked for you as soon as the orgasm washes over you. He pounds into you harder, fingers marking your skin until his cum is coating every wicked part of inside of you.

You watch the blood drying on your hand.

He kisses your shoulder his cock still buried deep inside of you, "I did it for you bluebell." He pulls out of you, gently straightening your dress down before helping you stand up properly.

You turn to face him. He picks strands of glass out of your hair before pushing it off of your face, some pieces sticking to the blood on the side of your head. "Thank you Mr. President, sir."

He had ruined you, and you thanked him for it.

"Such a good girl." He cups your face and kisses your forehead. He glances to the back of the room where servants and guards no doubt stood watching. "Clean this up." He wraps his hand around your waist to lead you out of the room.

The months pass normally, without much change, which brings a sense of calm as you watch the seasons filter through the bars of your pretty cage. You watch the leaves change from green to orange to brown until they finally died on the ground below. You watched snow blanket the grounds of his mansion, watch it fall silently at night when the full moon was high and he lay naked in the bed behind you. How easy it would be to turn around and stab him in his frozen heart over and over again letting his blood pelt down on you like the rain hitting your window. Instead you watch snow melt on the wilted mushy grass below, watch the bugs fly across your window, watch them land and you wonder how freeing it felt to escape the little landing they had made within the hole of your inclosure.

But that freedom isn't worth it and dead flies stare back at you in their windowsill graves.

You make your way down to the greenhouse set on planting your spring flowers before summer took its complete hold over the world. You feel peace as you close the door behind you plunging the area in serene silence.

It's the only time you truly ever smile as your hand sinks into dirt, as you dig out a home for his white roses. He didn't let you plant them at first knowing your history of killing them on accident, but you had proved yourself, as you had with everything.

This is as far as he let you go within his property. You knew he was still watching, knew there were cameras, knew he had guards somewhere keeping an eye on you. It didn't matter, you told yourself with a gentle grin on your lips covering up the plant. No, not truly, as you watered it. This was your life now, it had been for years and you were content with the security, the seclusion, the insanity of it all, and besides you were nothing without him.

You glance in the far back corner of the room where empty pots sat that had once held your small number of blooming bluebells. They had withered and died long ago, you had let them, and never planted them again.

You liked his roses more.

Most of the day is gone when you head back into his home, and the minute the door closes something feels off, the hair on your neck standing up. You tuck your head down and make your way for the stairs to go back to your room not feeling up to figuring out why the house felt strange.

You didn't need to go searching for it since she was standing in your room.

"Mrs. Snow."

She sneers, "Oh yes I forgot you were so proper."

Don't stutter. "Can I help you with something?" You have your hands clasp in front of you standing up too straight as you watch her.

"Where is he?" She ask peering at her freshly manicured nails like this conversation bored her. You swallow unsure what to tell her. You didn't know where he was, he usually left in the morning for work and returned in the evening without this much fuss. "He wasn't at work, and I know he usually doesn't let you go too far off your leash." She stands up as you continue to not answer, but her eyes dart behind you. "Right again."

"Livia." You nearly collapse in relief at his voice behind you, at the wetness slipping out of you, at his hands coming onto your shoulders. "You shouldn't be here."

She glares, "See that's where you're wrong." Livia points at you, "That thing shouldn't be here. This is my home, I am your wife." You feel his fingers dig into your skin. "Why should I be holed up in that stupid apartment while it gets to play house in my mansion."

"It's my mansion Livia." He corrects her fingers toying with the skin on your neck. "And it's a very big apartment."

"You married me, you had children with me, you should live with me." Her cheeks flush in anger. "I don't care that you have a mistress, I don't care that you two are sick fucking people." She came forward too close, finger pointed at him, "I want what you promised me Coriolanus."

Your hand flies out as you slap her across the face. The room stills, you grab your hand back like it was a separate entity. You knew why it happened. Besides the way you moaned it, he didn't like when people used his real name and not his titled one, you didn't like that she had gotten too close to him. You had attacked others for far less offenses. She reels back her own hand, but he stops her midair with a hand around her wrist, "I gave you what I promised you Livia." He sighed, "You are the president's wife, you have financial and social standing, you are well provided for, what the fuck else could you possibly want."

"I want that thing gone, out of my home, my sight, my life." She hissed.

"Careful Livia," He laughed menacingly at her, "You're starting to sound jealous." He let go of her hand and motioned to the chair off to the side of the room, "Do I need to remind you of where your place is in all of this?"

You feel the wetness slide further down your leg at the mention of what he meant, the mention of making her watch as he took you over and over again like he had on their wedding night. She cringed, "You disgust me."

He pushed hair off of your neck kissing the sensitive skin there, "Then leave, go back to where I put you." She pushed past the two of you and stormed off down the hallway. He didn't even close the door as he turned you around and cupped your face, "She's a nuisance." He backed you up until the back of your knees hit the bed.

"She's your wife."

"I don't care." He mumbled onto your skin kissing across your collarbones as he laid you back onto the bed. "I liked watching you slap her." You knew he did from the feel of his hard cock pressing into your back when you had done it. He travels down your body until he's between your legs, and then he plants a soft kiss to your bare cunt. "You did too, didn't you bluebell?"

Only a small whine leaves your throat as his tongue swirls around your clit and everything seems to vanish in your head, all you can focus on is his mouth on your pussy. Your fingers are in his hair as you tilt your hips up for him more, his tongue pressing rough circles into the sensitive bud. You craved his pleasure, you craved his violence and nothing ever chased that feeling of need away besides him. His mouth wraps around your clit and sucks making you see stars behind your eyes back arching for it, body aching for it, for him. You push back with your hips with every stroke of his tongue before looking down at him staring into his hungry dark eyes as you cum against his face. He keeps licking at you, letting you ride it out on his tongue hands slowly releasing his hair.

He pushes up onto his knees your pleasure glistening on his chin. "Are you jealous?" You furrow your brows, but you know what he's asking. Were you jealous of Livia? That she got to marry him, have his children and go out in public with him. You and him had grown closer to each other throughout the years of twining your decaying souls together, it was something wretched and inhumane, your hatred had settled into something more docile.

But it always remained.

"No," You didn't want to marry him, or have his children, or go out with him at all besides that once-a-year Hunger Games party. "Mr. President, sir." You only truly ever liked him when he was inside of you, and you knew he shared the sentiment.

The corners of his mouth begin to straighten out of his joking smirk and suddenly you're unsure if you gave him the right answer. He stares at you, and you stare at him. Then he sighs and slides in next to your body, "How long has it been?"

"I never kept track Mr. President, sir." It could have been two years or seven or fifteen you could never be sure, you lost time like you had lost yourself. He never let you have a clock anyways and why did it matter, it's not like he was ever going to let you leave at a certain point in time, nor did you want to. He had told you forever, so forever you stayed within.

You had nothing but him.

You tuck yourself into his chest.

It's dark when he comes for you. He slithers in behind you, hard cock digging into your backside and you're snaking your hand around his head to pull him closer.

His teeth graze your neck, "Not now." But he bites your shoulder and you mewl for him pushing your ass back into him. "We don't have time." He hikes up your nightgown anyways, fingers dipping into your drenched cunt and you shift your self forward to give him more room to curl his hand up inside of you. "You can't help it can you." You shake your head into the sheets as he moves his hand faster only making you whine louder when he pulls it out, "Want me to fuck you that badly?" He doesn't even wait for the response he already knew before sliding down into you. It fills you too heavenly as you fist the blankets, biting down on the corner of your pillow as he slowly thrust into you. You'll never be full of him as you arch back, pushing yourself into him more, feeling every delicious stroke of his cock.

He pulls up slightly pounding down into you, twisting his hand in your hair to arch your back for him more until bones are groaning along with you. You squeeze your eyes feeling your body clenching around him, the heat of it pooling in your stomach, toes curling into the mattress. And then you're coming around him moaning out into the pitch black room as he lets your head drop back down so he can grip your hips wildly thrusting into you until he cums deep inside of you.

He runs a finger down your spine.

He leans down pushing it all into you with a kiss on you head. "Come with me." He pulls out too quickly and you turn to look at him confused while artificial light suddenly pours in through the window. He tucks himself away before holding his hand out for you. You look between his hand and his face with a small shake in your head the sense of unease filling you tamed blood. His eyes narrow on you so you glance down at your nightgown, "It doesn't matter, now come." His tone bites at the end so you climb to your feet to take his hand, letting him drag you from the room, down the stairs, and out into the foyer.

Your unease had been correct.

Livia is there, disheveled, hands tied behind her back and a gag around her mouth. She starts yelling frightfully into it when she sees you coming down the stairs. Two peacekeepers are standing on either side of the door, fingers on their triggers as they watch her. You still on the last step.

He motions to her; but your forehead is creased in confusion. He sighs coming back towards you, hands coming around your face, "It's been eight years, four months, and twenty-three days." You still didn't understand what that had to do with his wife, "You've been so good to me all these years." He comes closer pressing his mouth to your ear, "I need you to do one more thing for me."

You look past him at Livia who's eyes were widening with settled fear, understanding what this all meant. He wanted you to hunt her down and kill her. He wanted to watch you in the Games one more time.

He pulls back slightly to glance down at your face. His body presses in close to yours, a hand grasping onto your waist, "Will you do this for me?"

Something churns inside of you as you blink up at him, noses touching each other. There was no version of this where you got to say no to anything he said, it has always been that way, he had taken everything from you and still wanted to take more like the starving man he was, always grasping insatiably at you. So you tap into that rabid part of you he had always adored more, "Yes Mr. President, sir."

"My good girl," He smiles gently kissing your mouth. He waves his hand and you hear rope being sliced. Livia's shoes dig into the ground as they drag her outside no doubt giving her a head start from you. He caresses your face, "Now... tell me your mine."

His cum slides down your legs, "I am your creature. I am yours."

He let's go moving to the side as you fly out of the door after her like a hound on her scent. The moon offer its little light as you run into the night onto the property. His bright big floodlights make up the rest, beaming down upon you not allowing her any advantage in the natural darkness, you figured he might have wanted to give her some fighting chance since she truly stood no chance at all.

She had been his wife after all, and you simply, were his district mutt.

You still, the grass wet under your feet, a soft drizzle falling down on your skin as you look for her, listen for her, thunder rumbling in the distance. In your Games you had hid, you had survived until it was only you and that district two boy left, but now you were the predator hunting down the weaker tribute. Lightning cracked, illuminating her figure slipping into the trees.

You sprinted for her your moist nightgown flapping against skin. She clambered off into the woods loud footsteps stomping into the ground whimpering sobs echoing around her. It wasn't a large area of trees, something he had had planted around his home for privacy reasons, and it had offered her the cover she needed to evade you for longer. You slowed, listening to her stumble around in the dark forest letting the broken moonlight guide you on a path. The rain was coming down harder, leaves shaking with the pressure and wind while you searched for her with water dripping down your back.

Then it's quiet.

Your bare foot sinks into mud peering into the darkness.

She shouts as she runs for you stabbing you in back before taking off again. You groan as you reach back for it, struggling to wrap your fingers around the handle to yank it out, blood now pooling down your back. They had given her a weapon, a chance, and now she had squandered it.

You look down. It was the same knife you had killed that district boy with.

Your eye twitches.

You run after her, jumping over fallen logs, skimming past loose branches as thunder shakes the arena, rain pelting you. It was kill or be killed just like it had been when you had won the first time, you would win again. You take her to the ground as she claws at you slashing across your cheek.

"Stop!" She screams but you sink the knife into her arm watching her cry out in pain. You yank it back and plunge it down again but she keeps moving, keeps fighting and it slams into the ground. "People will ask about me, wonder where the president's wife went!" And you knew you'd kill them too if he asked. She knows it too as the knife slashes her wrist. "Kill him! He ruined your life!" Her fingers find fallen parts of trees and rocks and shes hitting you with them to get you off. "He killed your parents!"

You stop, eyes quivering down at her as lightning shoots across the sky behind you. You didn't have parents. You didn't. You only had him. You squeeze your eyes, but no-no that didn't seem true either. You can smell oil. You can smell vanilla tea in a small kitchen. You can feel the trains rumbling your house. My darling bluebell. You open your eyes, no that was just the storm crashing down onto you, that's just what he called you, no one else. There was no one else, only him. She uses your distraction to shove you off and climb on-top of you a large rock in her hands to break your skull open.

But it doesn't even matter if they were alive or not, if they were real or not, no one was coming to save you.

He had saved you

She's crying, or maybe it's rain. "Do you love him?" Her voice broke with her own heart.

"No."

You shove upward with the knife hearing the sick wet noise of stabbing her organs. Blood splashes down onto you as you rip the knife out. Her body slinks off of you into the dirt and she's grabbing at the growing wound staring upward at the sky.

White moonlight blankets her face in the break of trees as she coughs up blood. "I-I'm his wife." Don't stutter, you want to tell her, but all you can do is stare at her while she dies. "I used to wonder how after all these years you two can still fuck each other like animals." She swallows blood, "But then I realized you two are animals." You straddle her hemorrhaging body, "What will you be when I'm gone."

"His victor." You stab the knife down into her chest listening to the sick crunch of her sternum bone. Once, twice, three times you bring it down into her, blood splattering across skin, dripping down your body. You didn't hate her, you didn't think much of her, but then again you hadn't hated that boy from two and you had butchered him just the same.

She chokes on more blood then goes still beneath you. You wait for the canon, but only the storm answers you. You raise your face towards the onyx oblivion letting the rain splatter onto you washing her blood off of your skin, but the slick coating it left would remain, just like that boy from two. You take three deep breaths before standing up staring out into the dark distance wondering if he was watching. You could run. You could hold onto this knife and take off into the night and maybe make it out. He kept a tight leash on you, but he had let you off of it for this, would he expect you not to come back to him. A red light of a camera blinked within the bark of a tree; what was out there for you anyways? Something tugged behind your naval, a string pulling you backwards, and you figured you quite liked your cage, it was all you ever had. You sigh, wrapping your hand around her ankle, and dragging her body back towards the house.

The floodlights shine down on you as you break through the trees, peacekeepers all back to their post surrounding him standing in the middle of the lawn like your lighthouse on treacherous waters.

Like the God you had always prayed would save you.

You dropped her leg and walked towards him. "My darling bluebell." He cups his hand around your neck tilting your face up to his.

The tip of the knife presses into his stomach as your eyes bare into his. "You kept track." You push inward more the blade barely even cutting through clothing. He doesn't even try to stop you from stabbing him if you chose, and you wanted to. You wanted to shove it in deep, wanted to rip his intestines out to strangle him with.

"My sweet creature." His thumb caresses your filthy cheek, and then he presses your lips to his. Your mouths meld together, his tongue slipping inside tasting the dirt, your blood, her blood, all of it in a depraved kiss. Slowly, long fingers wrap around your wrist tugging your hand, the knife, upward until the sharp bloody blade is pressed to the soft flesh of your neck. You want him to slide it across, slash your throat wide open so you could finally escape him. He pressed in harder, the warm trickle of your own blood leaking down cool skin. That's as much as he pushes and you gaze up at him the question written on your every feature.

He tucks filthy hair behind your ear, "I've bent you so much, and you never break." He smiles at nothing, sadness his response. "My darling bluebell, my beautiful savage." His hand comes off of your wrist giving you the final choice in your death. His thumb traces your ear, "Would you do it if I asked you to?" Rain drips off of your nose onto your upper lip as it quivers out the gentle plea, your hand shakes, the blade cutting in a little deeper. The corner of his mouth ticks up, "You would, wouldn't you my good girl." It's pathetic because he had always been right about you, but maybe that was because he had made you. He softly tugged on your thumb holding the handle of the blade, "I find I am not quite fond of the idea of losing you."

He's all you know, and all you want to know, the sin you can never seem to cleanse yourself of. For some reason, you're not quite fond of losing him either.

The knife falls to the ground below

His hands travel down your body, cupping under you ass, and wrapping your legs around his body to walk you back inside his house. The doors slam shut behind you as his mouth never leaves yours, he slams you back into the wall paintings clattering to the floor as he keeps kissing you savagely. It all teeth and spit and tongues as your fingers rip open his shirt buttons flying in every direction dragging your dirty nails down his pristine chest.

It consumes you, he consumes you with an insatiable need that is never enough to fill a void he had scooped out of you. His hand slithers down your body to shove inside of you, to curl against that sweet spot that has your panting into his open mouth. "Am I all you need?" His hand thrust into you as his mouth trails across your jaw. "All you want?"

"Yes Mr. President, sir." You moan.

He growls shoving his body against yours, teeth digging into your skin. "My good fucking girl."

His palm presses down onto your clit as you move your hips with him fucking his hand until you can't keep your eyes open, gripping the wall behind you with chipped blood stained nails. You feel your skin split open from his canines and your clamping down around him, gushing around his knuckles until your body stops moving. He slams you down onto the stairs and pushes himself inside of you in one quick stroke.

You're covered in blood, covered in him and all you can do is claw at his back as he fucks you roughly against wooden steps. You wrap you legs around him to keep him close feeling his cock slide against a delicious spot that has you whimpering for more, always for more. Your mind feels empty but thoughts of him, your brain wired to his every whim. You didn't love him, you hated him viciously, but you worshipped him obsessively like he was the sick god who had stolen you away to his underworld. It would be you and him until the end of time tied together with bloody strings and pomegranate seeds. His fist kneads into your breast, his head following the same pattern to wrap around your nipple, licking and biting and sucking making you tilt your pelvis up for him to thrust into you deeper. Your teeth sink into his shoulder, blood filling your mouth as he growls into your skin thrusting even harder and faster. Heat pools inside of you, you feel yourself clenching around him with every powerful stroke of his cock.

"Cum for me baby girl."

It twist a knife inside your hallow chest as you clamp down around him screaming out his name into his mansion, the echo of it hitting off every wall. His fingers dig into your bones as he spills inside of you coating everything that belongs to him. You lose track of time as you lay there, stairs pressing into your back, his cock still twitching inside of you. You're both covered in sweat and blood and rain and each other, no one dares to move.

He pulls back to stare down at you brushing wet hair away from your face, his dried blood splattered down your chin and neck. There's something too soft in his blue eyes and it forces your brows to softly furrow at the unnamed emotion crossing over his features.

He whispers your name, something he never said.

You lean away from him.

"Tell me you hate me." The back of his nail slides across your collarbones and you want him to plunge it into you chest to pluck out your rotting heart to eat.

"I hate you." You whisper. "Mr. President, sir."

He kisses you like he was air you needed to breath and pulls out of you, slowly standing up. He walks around you disappearing up the stairs without a backwards glance. You lay there for a moment before standing up as well to walk back to your glorious cage to wait for him.

The world is so much quieter now, smaller as you walk down the Avenue of the Tributes alone. You had sat in the stands watching everything happen, watched that girl fire her arrow, watched them attack, watched them all slowly leave.

You stayed.

You watched with you hands folded over your lap as they killed him. You never looked away. And once everyone was gone you climbed down and walked so slowly along that long avenue towards his body.

He was still tied up, but most of him was gone, mangled blood and clothing on the ground around him. You stopped in front of him, his blood under your shoes, feeling the tears involuntarily sliding down your face. After so many years he was finally dead, you were finally free. You searched internally to name the emotion you were feeling, but there wasn't anything left of you anymore. It had all stopped when his heart did. It had all stopped when your name was pulled.

Through the gore and torn flesh you could still see pieces of wrinkled skin, hair white as snow, blue eyes buried under it all, but he would always remain that young man you had grown to loathe. You thought of his children, the same beautiful blue eyed children you had helped him raise, helped him train like show dogs, stepping in like some wet nurse after you brutally murdered their mother. You wonder what would become of them now that the whole world had collapsed with their father.

Your whole world.

You take another step forward your foot rolling over something. You bend down and pick up the small pill rolling it between two fingers, glancing up at his dead body. You thought of your pretty cage, thought of that bed you always seemed to be in.

You were always in that house, in that room. You could never get out, and now you could never go back home. You were always meant to bleed together. You had nothing, but you had him.

You slip the nightlock pill between your lips and swallow it down.

He was like a temple, left here for only you to worship at one last time. You go onto your knees in front of him taking in your last breath before collapsing in the pool of his blood at his feet, where you had always belonged.

If it's meant to be then it will be

So I met him there and told him I believe

Singing if it's meant to be then it'll be

I forgive it all as it comes back to me

endnotes: i was driving home from work and sun bleached flies by ethel cain came on and the minute i parked i wrote down the idea from this so its her fault i kept writing for these two psychos :) hope u all enjoyed!!

tags: @wearemadeofstardust0 , @astarborntowrite, @genderfluid-anime-goth , @merlieve , @darktrashsoulbear , @euphemiaamillais , @dousyskid , @bunny24sstuff , @bloobewy , @tmblrsexyw0man , @italiekim , @anthgoldenhrry , @becauseseaotters bold is tumblr wouldn't let me tag

[koofete]

in motion, in 3D. ー jeon jungkook.

pics not mine!

you touched yourself so well through the screen of jungkook's cellphone that he couldn't help but call you in the middle of the night.

jungkook × f!reader.

mature content, maybe fluff, mentions of squirt, sweet and trying something new, sex call.

note: i'm doing a lot of drabbles 'bout jk, but this man is living in my head! especially now with '3D' lyrics.. hope you guys don't mind!

Jungkook drove alone to the hotel he would stay with his band members, being the last one to arrive because he wanted to stay with you a little longer before traveling again.

Getting out of the car, jeon grabbed two bags, ready to go inside when his cellphone vibrated in the pocket of his jeans. Knowing who was possibly calling, he immediately dropped everything that had in hands and grabbed the phone. Your name appearing on the bright screen.

pretty girl 💕 sent a video.

pretty girl 💕 : i'm already missing yoooou

pretty girl 💕 : trying something new, ive never recorded myself like this before

pretty girl 💕 : sleep well ;)

You actually sent him a 'sleep well' after sending that abused pussy of yours gushing cum in a way that jungkook had never in person before?! No fucking way.

How cute of you to think that he could at least close his eyes for more than five minutes without thinking of your little cries in the back of that video, fitting perfectly with the wet sounds.

Her clit clearly needs more than just fingers. ー jeon thoughts making his dick even harder.

Unfortunately, jeon couldn't just grab his bags and go back but he had something on his mind. When entering the hotel, he tried his best to be cool and smile at some people who recognized him, but he was in a hurry.

Anxiously, he locked the door of the room in which would spend the night, not needing to share bed with anyone this time.

gguk: hope you're still awake

gguk: cause i am

You smile at the notification, not expecting him to respond so late at night.

Or maybe you expected, since the sheet beneath your body is a complete mess, your legs are still open and the only piece of clothing you wear is a white tank top from jungkook. You didn't move a finger, wanting to make sure if he would return soon or just the next morning.

gguk is calling . . .

And there you go.

You answered quickly and put it on speakerphone, leaving the phone aside since it wasn't a video call.

"what was that?" Jungkook immediately asks.

"what?"

"you know what i'm talking about, pretty. that fucking video is driving me insane."

"oh!" You chuckle a bit, feeling dizzy by the way his voice sounded hoarser than normal. "did you like it?"

Suddenly you receive a new notification. It was a photo of your boyfriend sitting on a hotel bed, in front of a mirror wearing only dark sweatpants, no shirt. His tattooed arm held his clearly hard cock through the fabric. Strands of his freshly cut hair fell over his forehead and a silver chain hung around his neck.

Your body will always burn with desire and shyness whenever you see him like this, despite the years of relationship.

"this answer your question, love?"

"y-yeah." Still staring wide-eyed at the photo as your legs close without you even noticing; thighs pressed together.

"i can't touch you through the phone and that's torture, baby." He growls the last word, left hand going down to his dick. "but you can fuck that sweet pussy of yours while i'm away. do this for me, yeah? now."

"mm-hm."

He smiles with the way you already seem so surrendered. "tell me if you're still wearing my tank top, pretty girl. i want to imagine you."

"yes, i'm still wearing." You say in a sigh. Now, with both hands free and the cellphone's close, fingers play with your nipple and pussy at the same time.

"fuck..." Jeon curses. His wide hands are already running up and down on his cock, slowly but firmly. "so wet my tank top and our sheets with your cum, love. 'want to smell your scent as soon as i get back to home."

"koo..."

"just like that..." At this point you can hear how wet he is and vice versa. "say my name louder, princess. put three fingers in like you know i would, fast and deep."

He gives the instructions calmly and affectionately, but still manages to sound dominant to your ears, which makes you even whiny. You do as jungkook asks and he notices it by the way your moans become louder, knowing that maybe you could even have tears in your eyes. He furrows his eyebrows and lets the air escape from his lips adorned with a small silver jewel in the corner, muttering small 'ooh's.'

Jungkook was loving having sex with you over the phone, but nothing compares to the feeling of having your body pressed against his, sweat running down his forehead as he gives his life while eat you out. He simply loves the sound that echoes when his balls slap against your ass and can't wait to see you squirting now he know that you can. But in person.

In motion.

"i'm cumming, koo!"

"go ahead, baby. i'm so close too..."

And more than ever, he can't wait to see you again.

`✦ !

[uyuforu]

Astro Observations: Lunar Return Chart VII

It's that time of the month! The Lunar Return Chart Series continue with another observation ^^

All pictures were found on Pinterest

Other posts you could like:

જ⁀➴ Lunar Return Chart IV

જ⁀➴ Lunar Return Chart V

જ⁀➴ Lunar Return Chart VI

READINGS BOOKING OPEN

email adress: tarotjunoboda@gmail.com

Soft To You presentation and Q&A ᡣ𐭩 rules ᡣ𐭩 private readings reviews

astrology menu ᡣ𐭩 tarot menu ᡣ𐭩 special astrology & tarot readings

support the creator: paypal ⟡ buy me a coffee (tip) ⟡ tipeee

╰┈➤ Get your own Solar Return Chart, from 30€ to 60€ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

⊹₊⟡⋆ 4H Ruler in 12H is an indicator of moving.

⊹₊⟡⋆ 4H Ruler in 4H is an indicator of traveling in your country, or around your country.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Uranus conjunct Moon 12H can indicate feeling down but very suddenly, your moon switch during the month and you can feel sad often without knowing why.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Moon 12H usually indicates feeling sad or down this month. I was also feeling anxious and I overthink quite a lot this month.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Every time I have Uranus 12H I feel more tired and I need more sleep.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Saturn 10H is indeed an indicator of having some obstacles or difficulties in your career. But it doesn't mean necessarily that it's because your career isn't doing well. Ruler will say why you have those difficulties.

For Example, I had this placement last month, but had a lot of clients. But it was hard mentally to finish the readings, and my 10H Ruler was Uranus 12H. I was tired and never felt like working.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Moon conjunct Uranus 12H can also indicate having weird dreams with weird significations.

⊹₊⟡⋆ 5H Stellium usually means you'll be more into fashion, beauty tips, skincare, and make up this month.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Venus 5H, I bought more clothes this month, and I found a lot of good items in thrift shops.

⊹₊⟡⋆ 1H Ruler in 5H, I cut my hair and my hair are very healthy now and they look incredible.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Sun 10H Sun or Rulling 10H can mean you'll get more success and recognition this year, can be in your career or just in other parts for your life. Check where Ruler is in.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Stellium in 2H can mean gaining more money this month than last month for example.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Leo 10H & Ruler is in 12H can mean getting unwanted attention. You could get more attention and it's not something you really wanted. You can also get more popular and it can feel exhausting mentally.

╰┈➤ Get your own Solar Return Chart, from 30€ to 60€ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

⊹₊⟡⋆ Jupiter 1H can be an indicator of taking a little weight, or you could feel thicker.

⊹₊⟡⋆ 2H Ruler in 12H, I wanted to save money. I was also more into manifesting money.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Mars 2H, I was more worried and anxious because of money.

⊹₊⟡⋆ 3H Ruler in 12H, very funny thing but this was the month I switched my instagram account into private mode for the first time since I had it.

⊹₊⟡⋆ 4H Ruler in 5H means you'll have some good time and good laugh with family this month.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Someone told me this already when I asked if they had this placement before, but 7H Ruler in 1H can mean a lot of people will be into you and interested in dating you.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Venus & Juno 5H will mean something similar.

⊹₊⟡⋆ My new LRC just started and I have 8H Ruler in 2H, Ruled by Venus, and I have such huge fashion fever!

⊹₊⟡⋆ I have Scorpio Rising in this new LRC and it's the same as my SRC, and I have tons of same placements as my SRC, I think this month will be very significant for me.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Chiron 8H can also be an indicator of being sick.

⊹₊⟡⋆ 12H Stelliums can usually translates into depression. You could not want to do a single thing but stay in bed and sleep.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Scorpio Rising could mean you'll change something in your life this month, and it can be transforming something that will play a major role in your life over the next few months.

⊹₊⟡⋆ 2H Ruler in 3H can mean buying new technology, like a phone for example.

Thank you for reading!

support the creator: paypal ⟡ buy me a coffee (tip) ⟡ tipeee

back to index ; ask ; request ; rules

[marvelobsessed134]

Ive been an awful good girl

This is part of my 12 days of fics

Pairings: Dom!Carol Danvers x Sub!Fem!Reader

Warnings: pet play, strap on sex, rough sex, mommy kink, reader is referred to as puppy.

Summary: in which you beg Carol for something on your Christmas list

For as long as you and Carol have been dating, you’ve wanted her to be rough with you. And you’ve always wanted to try pet play. You’ve looked on certain websites at different collars and leashes made for that kind of stuff.

Carol has been iffy about it since she doesn’t wanna hurt you. But of course she’s secretly into the idea. The thought of you on your knees with a collar around your neck, her tugging the leash as you suck on her strap.

So, one day -a couple days before Christmas Eve- you pranced into her office. All the avengers have their own offices in the tower for their specific work and meetings and such.

“Hi, Carol.” You chirped, leaning over her desk to kiss her. The two of you were left a little breathless. Then you spoke up, sitting on the edge of her desk with your bare thigh peaking out of your skirt. You noticed the way her eyes lingered on your body before looking into your eyes. “So…Christmas is coming up soon.”

“Yes it is, darling.”

“And I was wondering if you put any thought into what I want this year?”

“Y/n, we’ve talked about this. I don’t want to hurt you. And I don’t know if you are interested in the pet play dynamic.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t interested. Besides, if it gets too much I’ll tell you to stop. Just please think about it? I’ve been an awful good girl haven’t I?” you gave her your best puppy dog eyes and she sighed, “Okay. But don’t bother me about it again Y/n.”

“Ok mommy.” You beamed before quickly hopping off the desk and rushing out of the room. “Ugh, Y/n! You can’t just say things like that!” She called after you but to no avail, you didn’t hear her.

-Christmas Day-

You woke up to the feeling of the blonde kissing you awake. “Mmm morning baby.” You moaned.

“Morning, sweetheart. I thought I’d give you your Christmas present now. It’s not one I can give to you around the others.” You furrowed your brows but nodded, sitting up and watching Carol grab a box wrapped in red and white striped paper.

She handed it to you and you grabbed it from her, looking into her eyes for permission and the captain nodded. You teared open the paper and opened the box to find a collar and a leash. You looked at her with shocked eyes.

Your girlfriend smirked, “I figured we’d have a little fun before we open presents.”

“Yes please!” You squealed.

You stripped down, and so did Carol. You watched as she put on her strap. You were on your knees in front of her. “Ok puppy, let mommy put your collar on.”

She fastened the collar around your neck. “Not too tight?” The captain asked.

“Not too tight.” You confirmed.

Carol smiled and attached the leash onto your collar. “Puppy, what do you wanna do now?” She decided since it’s your first time doing something like this that she’d give you control on what you do.

You thought for a moment before saying “Mmm…I want to suck your strap please.”

“Aww yeah? Puppy wants a treat?” The blonde teased and you nodded, your slick dripping down your thighs.

She stood up and walked closer to you, moving her cock towards your mouth. You immediately began to suck on it. Your girlfriend pulled the leash as you bobbed your head.

“So pretty like this. Such a good pet.” Carol crooned, petting your hair with her other hand.

You sucked her off for a while before pulling off of her.

“Mommy, I’m so wet I need-“ you were cut off by a sharp slap to your cheek.

“Good puppies don’t talk unless spoken to. Got that?” You nodded. “Good. Now what do you need pretty girl?”

“I need your cock. I need you to fuck me deep inside and don’t be gentle please!” In an instant you were on the bed on all fours, Carol teasing the tip of her strap against your leaking folds.

Without warning she pushed in harshly and didn’t waist any time to start thrusting hard and fast, pulling your leash.

“Oh fuck mommy! So good!” You cried as she constantly hit your spot.

“Taking me so good baby! Fuck!” She groaned snapping her hips to yours.

You felt yourself getting closer and closer to your climax. “M’so close mommy! Please let me cum!”

“Fuck baby, go ahead and cum.”

You clenched around her cock and moaned when you felt your release.

Your girlfriend pulled out of you and pulled you to lay on her chest. “How was that baby?” The blonde asked.

“So good, mommy.”

[stuniolvs]

IM LITERALLY BEGGING ON MY KNEES RN DO AN ENEMIES TO LOVERS W MATT PLEASEE 🥺🥺🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

sweetheart m.s.

another sickfic im sorry! please leave requests!

not proofread.

you’re currently getting ready to go to a party with the triplets you put on a simple dress, converse, and curl your hair. 8:54, the clock reads, nick said that he’d be here around 9.

you’ve known the triplets since freshman year but every time you see matt he’s rude to you.

its always some snarky comment about your looks or how you’re ’so annoying'

on cue, you hear matt honk outside and you hop in the car next to nick. you are about to thank matt for picking you up before he says.

“dont you think your hair is a bit much?” he mumbles, although you can hear it very clearly.

you look down at your lap and fiddle with your fingers, you then start trying to fix your hair, flattening it.

“y/n, your hair looks pretty” nick says smiling at you.

“thank you” i smile but still feeling hurt by matts comment. ive always felt just a little bit different about matt.

i used to talk to him all the time, we were best friends and then at the start of sophomore year he just ghosted me.

‘sweetheart’ he used to call me.

you exit the car arms linked with nick. “i like your shirt chris!” you compliment looking down at his camo shirt.

“thank you, y/n/n. i love your dress.” he says. you nod at him, smiling entering the house.

matt clenches his jaw hearing chris compliment you. he quickly relaxes when he sees you biting your lip. he immediately remembers how one of the first things you bonded over was your anxiety and you told him that you always bite your lip when you're nervous.

he walks behind you just to make sure no one gets too close to you.

as you guys go and get water you feel a small pain in your stomach. you can’t tell if its from anxiety, sickness, or both.

after about 45 minutes of wandering around, talking to a couple people before settling on a couch.

your next to matt with nick on the other side.

“no, yeah” you hear the random guy say, ryan, you think his name was. “hold on, im gonna go re-fill my drink” chris says. “me too.” nick and ryan say at the same time as they all leave.

you and matt sit on the couch as there’s like a hundred people surrounding you slowly getting more, and more stuffy.

you start to feel really nervous, your stomach hurts and you have anxiety with means you also have anxiety about your stomach hurting which makes it hurt more.

“matt?” you whisper. “what?” he snaps. his eyes softening when he sees your nervous state. you pull your feet up to your chest, pulling down your dress.

“what’s wrong sweetheart?” you hear him whisper. he places his hand on your back rubbing his thumb softly over the fabric of your dress.

your heart start beating rapidly. “i dont feel good matt, my stomach hurts and my anxiety is bad which is making my stomach hurt"

“im sorry,” he pulls you to his side wrapping his arm around you. “im so sorry about everything y/n. i dont know what i was thinking. over freshman year i started to like ou and then i got scared to i started being rude. im so stupid and i should’ve never done tha-“ he’s cut off by you hugging him landing on his lap. “im in love with you sweetheart” he confesses.

your heart pounds “im in love with you matt.” you speak, he blushes, tucking his head into your neck.

“does this mean im your boyfriend?” he asks “ do you want to be my boyfriend?” “of course” he flushes. “then yes.” you kiss him on the forehead “i wanna kiss you really bad but im 100% sick, my head is pounding.” you admit.

he kisses your temple and pulls back to kiss your stomach. he places a soft hand on the back of your head pushing you into his chest. “rest for a second sweetheart. im gonna text chris and nick.” he says, you nod.

after a couple minutes he lifts you from your thighs caring you to the car while you slightly regain consciousness. “mm-baby, where?” you ask, he blushes at the nickname.

“chris and nick are gonna get an uber, lets get you home so i can take care of you.” he states, setting you in the passenger seat.

once you get back to the house he sets you in his bed. he then grabs sweatpants and a t-shirt of his to change into.

“one sec, im gonna go get some stuff.” he says through the bathroom door.

he comes back with medicine, water, and your favorite blanket you always use when you come over. your just standing there unsure wha to do.

he sets the stuff down and picks you up laying on the oppsite side of the bed that he lays on.

you take the medicine then he tucks the blanket around you then he puts his duvet over you.

“will you lay with me?” you ask “of course, if you want.” “please do,” you say.

he changes into sweatpants and a hoodie, in front of you. you blush. he climbs into bed pulling you to his chest.

he pulls you in, cupping you cheeks. as your lips meet the kiss is soft and passionate expression so many emotions. after a couple of minutes he pulls back “why the fuck did you just kiss me? im sick.” you respond. “im sleeping in the same bed as you, its inevitable.” he states, smiling.

“i love you sweetheart"

[onlyangellucifer]

I LOVE YOU, ITS RUINING MY LIFE

PLOT:

It’s the biggest trial of the year and the whole world is watching. Stakes are higher and tension is higher. Little do they know, the prosecutor and defence attorney are in love.

OR

Harry is a popular defense attorney in London & Y/N is a popular prosecutor. Both are known for rarely losing & now they’ve found themselves in a pickle.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧*⋆.*:･ﾟ✧.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾

WARNINGS:

Mentions of murder, blood, and the likes (nothing too graphic), smut (in the future), angst, fluff, etc. will add more if any others pop up!

AUTHORS NOTE:

Hello!! Ive been MIA, sorry. However, ive come bearing gifts! Below the cut is a sneak peak at this new short series (no more than 6 parts atm). Im working on the other series’ too, sorry for the delay. Hope you can forgive me. Anyways i hope u enjoy defense attorney!Harry 🫶🏼 the preview also isnt proof read, so excuse any typos. Meaning things WILL be changed / could be changed & moved around! Not sure of word count, but cant be more than 1500. Its short.

London hasnt seen a case this high profile since the case of Harold Shipman, who killed up to 250 victims. Many feared this may be another case of Jack The Ripper, as they double checked their doors at night, hoping the serial killer wasn’t going to show up at their door. The relief that washed over the town when the police had finally caught the man whom they think is responsible for the latest killings of 20 men and women. The scenes were too graphic to show on tv.

Y/N ended up with the case. The crime scene photos were unnerving to her and interviewing the victims families made it even worse. Bile creeping up throat as she read the horrific things that happened to each victim. She wanted to know this case by the back of her hand, because of course she was up against one of the top defense attorneys in the country. He rather lost and found plot holes in every single case, having a 97% success rate with getting his clients off the hook and their record clear. She thought noone would pick up the mans case, there was so much evidence that pointed towards the man.

Harry was attractive, tall, dark hair and those piercing greenish hazel eyes. Y/N was nervous and she hated being that way. Harry often came by the law firm, having connections with anyone and everyone. His career was unmatched, he was handsome, wealthy, the whole package. Yet he was single and that blew Y/N’s mind.

Harry was just as shocked as Y/N to learn they’d facing each other in court. He was certain his client did it, but, he had to defend him anyways. He was called by the court to do it pro bono, as noone else wanted to take the case. If he lost, his numbers would certainly be impacted. If he won, people may look at him differently in a moral sense. Surely though there was a plot hole and the prosecution would slip up. He couldnt believe it was Y/N who got the case. Soft, shy, gorgeous Y/N. He already developed this small crush on her and now he had to take her on in court? Surely this wasnt a good thing. It had to be God punishing him for helping criminals and making a good living while doing so. Harry always viewed her as the more submissive type and his dirty thoughts were hard to keep at bay. Maybe that was the reason God was punishing him.

While Harry laid awake, staring at the ceiling, Y/N was doing the same. Y/N had never seen Harry in action, but, she’s heard how he’s always been strict and concise in the court room. His dominant side coming out, and that scared Y/N. Especially because she imagined him being dominant somewhere else, mainly at night when she lay in bed alone with her thoughts and hands.

[wiltkingart]

HYMN: extra story

since my rewrite of HYMN is on extended pause, ive decided to extract one of the new scenes and share it here as an extra so that it can see the light of day one way or another. its a look into atom's past when he was much younger, during his final eval for becoming a unity keeper. 3.8k words, the usual violence ahead:

-

On the morning of his final eval, the weather is just warm enough for Atom to wear one pair of gloves without running the risk of frostbite. The sun is a bright pinprick in a pale blue sky. Beside him, Lev's hands are tucked deep into his coat pockets. An icy wind cuts down the residential street and plays with the dark wisps of hair that refuse to be contained under his fur hat.

Lev hasn’t said a word since the two of them got off the metro and made their way here. Atom knows he’s nervous, he admitted so himself that morning over breakfast, but it’s still weird to see him this quiet. Out of the two of them, it’s Atom who often has little to say in any given situation. In the unusual silence, Atom tries and fails to come up with the right words to ease his worries. Pulling his scarf higher up his nose, Atom can't help but feel eager to get the mission started just so they can get this over with and Lev can stop looking like his stomach is eating him from the inside out.

Ten minutes later, Sergeant Milanova exits her armored Keeper vehicle and makes her way over to join them at the foot of a tall apartment building. Metal spikes on the soles of her snowboots noisily crunch across the frozen road until she comes to a stop in front of them.

"Your names?"

Lev stands up straight, raises his chin, and remembers to take his hands out of his pockets. Being older than Atom by 5 months, he goes first. "Lev Lukovich."

"Atom Belov."

Sergeant Milanova grunts in acknowledgement and flips through a thin folder in her hands. Snow goggles cover most of her face and her straight mouth betrays nothing of her opinion of them.

“As you already know, I am Sergeant Danilla Milanova and I will be overseeing your final evaluation today. The two of you will work together in a live field test mission where you must follow a standard takedown order and apprehend an active Target. This type of mission is the most common type of work you will be doing as active Keepers, besides regular patrolling. As active Keepers you will most commonly work in groups or pairs, unless you are promoted into a solitary position down the line. Today I will be testing your ability to work together to take down your Target in an efficient and timely manner.

“This is a live test, meaning your Target is actively wanted. This is not staged. If you fail, your actions will have severe consequences. I am here to observe, not intervene. The only reason I will step in is if I deem the mission a complete failure and have to take out the Target myself. If that happens, you will be sent back to training with the opportunity to retake this test in two years. Is that clear?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Lev and Atom answer in unison. Milanova digs through the pages in her folder until she finds what she’s looking for.

“The Target is Sergei Ivanov. Age 32, Electrician. He lives in this apartment—room number 716—along with his family. He has been found guilty of High Treason. Today is his day off and he is expected to be home all day. He is to be shown no mercy. His penalty is death.” The folder snaps shut in Milanova’s hand and she passes a look over them. “Any questions?”

Atom rests his hand on the sword strapped to his belt and looks up at the apartment building. He hopes it has a working elevator system. If not, at least a heated stairwell. But the smooth, dirty concrete walls don’t get his hopes up very high.

“Treason for what, if I may ask?”

At the sound of his voice, the world drifts to a stop, like the first gentle flakes of a snowstorm. Atom, surprised, looks at Lev. Did he really just ask that? Milanova’s straight mouth twitches and pulls down at the corners, confirming that yes—he really did.

“That is not your concern, Cadet.”

Lev swallows and looks down at his hands. Atom thinks he’s dropped it, and is about to apologize on his behalf, but Lev pushes on before Atom has a chance to open his mouth.

“I think it is my concern if he is my Target. High Treason is a serious offense and I would like to know what he did to deserve—”

“He’s guilty. That’s all you need to know.”

“But what did he do?”

Milanova takes two crunching steps forward to stand directly in front of Lev. She isn’t much taller, but that doesn’t stop her from looking down at him.

“Why does it matter to you, Cadet?”

“My—,” Lev bites his lip. Atom sees that his fists are shaking at his side. Briefly, Atom feels the urge to take them and warm them between his own hands. Maybe he should have brought an extra pair of gloves after all, only so he could give them to Lev. Maybe if he wasn’t so cold he wouldn’t feel the need to do whatever the hell this is.

“I’m sorry, forget it.” he says.

“No. This is important to you, clearly. I want to know why.” Milanova’s tone holds no warmth. Wind whistles down the street, deafening in the silence it demands. Milanova isn’t going to let Lev drop the subject, Atom knows it, as sharply as the sick feeling building in his stomach. He wants to grab Lev by the shoulders; knock some sense into him, tell him to shut the hell up, plead with him to keep his head down and obey like all the others. Like they promised each other they would, over countless nights in hushed whispers with their heads under a shared blanket. Always, with his hand an icy stone in Atom’s fist.

Instead he holds his breath and watches as the unthinkable happens.

“My father was...when I was a kid, my father was charged with Treason and taken from us. My mother and I were never told why. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for speaking out. It won’t happen again.”

Milanova laughs once, without smiling—a quick noise in her throat. “No, it won’t.” Tucking her folder under one arm, she takes another impossible step closer to Lev. “Sergei Ivanov was charged with High Treason for giving aid to other active Targets, and allowing them to escape punishment at the hands of the Law. People like him need to be eliminated for the sake of public peace. The world is a better place without people like Sergei. Without people like your father.”

Lev snaps up to look at her face, and by now his hands are balled so tightly they no longer shake. He sounds confused when he says, “He’s just an electrician.”

“He is your Enemy.”

“No,” he whispers. “No, he’s not.”

Milanova sighs through her nose. The wind screams. There’s a movement, a sickening sound, and the two of them sway. There is a knife in Lev’s belly and Milonova’s hand is on the hilt. She jerks it up, stretching the wound, and pulls out. Lev stumbles back, hitting the pale blue concrete wall. He slides to the cold ground, eyes wide, face white. The hands clutching his stomach quickly turn red—so very, very red. Atom takes a step toward him and Milanova commands him to stay put. Lev looks up at him and attempts to speak but can’t quite manage it. Or maybe he does say something but the ringing in Atom’s ears drowns it out.

It isn’t quick, and Lev keeps his eyes on Atom until the end, until his eyes turn glassy and his chest stops its panicked heaving.

“What a waste.” Milanova’s voice cuts through the noise like a—like a knife. “To make it all this way, dedicate his entire life to becoming a Keeper, only to throw it all away like this." From the corner of his eye, Atom sees her pull out a handkerchief to wipe the blade clean. "Unfortunately for you Belov, that means you’re on your own now."

A deep dark red stains the white of Lev's Keeper uniform. Today was their very first day wearing official whites. Only hours ago, in the changing room, Lev had joked about how the color washed him out.

"Belov?"

Atom blinks, tearing his eyes from the body. It takes an immense effort to look at Lev’s killer.

"Do you have any questions?"

"No, Sergeant."

"Then you may begin your mission."

"Yes, Sergeant."

Atom's feet carry him to the apartment's entrance. When the door clicks shut behind him, everything goes quiet. His own breathing sounds too loud in the vacant hallway. A choking feeling rises in his throat. Atom yanks down his scarf to heave. The image of Lev on the ground burns in his vision, like after looking at a bright light for too long, dragging across his line of sight no matter where he looks.

With effort, Atom pulls himself together before he can slip any further. He pushes himself away from the wall and breathes until the hallway stops looking like it wants to collapse on him. Until the sick in his throat is something he can leave on the floor, at his feet. To be collected after.

It turns out that the stairwell has no heat, but it at least provides shelter from the wind. Taking one step at a time, Atom climbs all seven flights.

He doesn’t know how long he stands outside the door to room 716. Somewhere down the hall a dog is barking. At one point, an elder woman wearing a colorful headscarf exits her apartment and makes her way towards him, but when she gets a better look at his uniform, she turns around and walks all the way to the stairwell at the other end of the hall. Inside his Target’s room he hears music—something slow and crackly, from centuries past. It sounds like something Lev would play from his radio, quietly from the bunk above Atom during nights when he couldn't sleep. The noise would in turn keep Atom up well into the night, but he never complained about it.

Atom raises his fist and knocks, loud and heavy.

The music dies. Footsteps approach, followed by whispers just on the other side. The door opens to a man's face. He looks older than 32, square-jawed with a graying beard. As his eyes take in his visitor his expression morphs from curiosity to thinly veiled fear.

"Sergei Ivanov?" Atom asks.

Before the Target can answer, a middle-aged woman appears over his shoulder. Her eyes are large and brown and framed by silver glasses. "Who is this?" she asks.

"Keeper Atom Belov, acting on the behalf of the United Keep. I am here to speak to Sergei Ivanov."

With a large hand the Target—Sergei—reaches up to wipe a sheen of sweat from his forehead. His wife's grip on his shoulder tightens. After a moment of silence, she asks Atom if he would like to come inside for a cup of tea. “We can all sit and talk at the table.” she says.

"Honey—" Sergei tries to protest, but she won’t hear it.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay." With visible strain she manages to urge her husband away from the door, forcing a smile at Atom as he steps inside. He follows her to a small wooden dining table and unclips his sword, leaning it against the wall beside his chair before taking a seat.

“Sergei, could you get the teapot started? I’ll stay out here and keep our guest company.” She takes the seat in front of Atom and pointedly avoids looking at the sword. “I’m Katya,” she says. “Sorry about the mess, we weren’t expecting company today.”

From what Atom can see, the apartment is spotless, and smells like freshly baked bread. He hears Sergei in the kitchen to his left and turns to watch the open doorway.

Katya tries again to get his attention. “How long have you been a Keeper?” she asks. Atom fiddles with the knife holster on his thigh. He doesn’t feel like lying, but he doesn’t want to admit to her that he isn’t an official Keeper��not yet—so he says nothing.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you look young. How old are you?”

Atom bites his tongue, but decides to answer anyway. “Sixteen.”

Her chair creaks as she leans back. “Good God.” she whispers.

Atom doesn’t look at her. She stops asking questions and sits in silence until the teapot starts to make noise. Then she excuses herself to the kitchen. Above the whine of the teapot Atom overhears Sergei’s low, pleading voice.

“Take all the money in the pantry and go with Dasha to your mother’s house. Go now, I’ll tell him you went to the store. Katya, please, I want to know you and Dasha are safe. Leave now.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Kat—”

“Let’s sit down—together, and speak to him. He’s just a kid. He has no reason to be here. Whatever this is for, there’s no reason to be afraid.

“Look at me. There is no reason for him to be here. Right?”

But Sergei doesn’t answer. Or if he does, Atom can no longer hear him above the deafening whine of the teapot. One of them finally takes it off the stove and Atom listens to the aggressive clinking of tableware before Katya comes out of the kitchen carrying a tray of warm bread, sliced strawberries, a dish of butter, and tea. She sets the table for three people despite Sergei having yet to show himself. She pours a steaming cup of black tea into a delicate porcelain cup and sets it in front of Atom before slumping back into her seat.

Somewhere in the living room, a clock ticks.

“Why are you here?” she asks.

“I need to speak to Sergei.”

“About what?”

But Atom doesn’t look at her again. He pushes himself to his feet and takes up his sword. Katya stands too, nearly knocking her chair over in the process. She calls out her husband’s name in alarm. Atom finds him leaning over the kitchen sink with his back to him. His head turns, just so, when he hears Atom enter the room.

“Sergei Ivanov. The United Keep has declared you an Enemy of the public and found you guilty of High Treason. You will pay for your crime with your life. You can come with me, quietly, and I'll let you say goodbye to your family. Or we can do this another way."

Slowly, Sergei straightens his back. He lets out a shaky sigh. “What is the other way?”

“You die. Here and now.”

Sergei nods, and makes a noise that sounds almost like a laugh. Then he turns around with a large kitchen knife in his large hand.

"Let us see if there is a third way.”

He looks tired, but by no means does he look weak. Sergei is a large man, twice Atom’s age, and they both know there is no way out of this without a fight.

So Atom widens his stance and raises his sword. "So be it."

The Enemy takes a heavy step towards him and the kitchen is so small that there is nowhere for Atom to duck to. So he doesn't. He swings, a clean upward arc, and a scream fills his ears on impact. Bright pure red sprays the walls and ceiling and blooms across white kitchen tiles underfoot. The Enemy’s momentum propels him forward and he lands on Atom with a guttural noise, crushing him against the refrigerator. Atom drops his sword in favor of fending off the knife aiming for his face. Sergei uses the last of his strength to try and drive it through his cheek and manages to break skin. Atom feels the tip of the blade clink against his teeth at the same time that shock seizes Sergei, and he collapses to the ground, dragging the knife down with him.

Atom swears, clutching at the stinging pain in his face. He tastes blood, and the feel of it is slick against his gloved hand. Through a blinding haze of pain he sees Katya on the ground beside Sergei. Her hands, trying to close the large, weeping gash, are red. When she realizes that it's already too late and her husband is dead, she takes up Atom’s sword and stands. It shakes in her hands. Thick blood drips slowly from her fingers.

“You—,” Her eyes are wide and wild behind her glasses. “I let you into my home.” She takes a frantic step towards him. “What kind of monster are you? You—You’re nothing."

Atom lets his hand drop. The blood running down his chin almost feels like he's crying. Slowly, he stands up straight, and wraps both hands around the blade pointed at him. He pulls, and at first Katya resists. Then she catches another glimpse of the body at her feet and wrenches back in horror. Atom turns the sword around in his hands. He exhales.

Outside, the wind screams. It howls and it rages and in his ears he hears Lev pleading, ‘But what did he do?’ and there are two bodies at Atom’s feet.

He feels cold all over. Then the shaking starts. The stench of iron fills his lungs and Atom gags, stumbling from the kitchen. He drops heavily into the chair at the dining table. The clotting, drying blood on his face starts to itch. The clock keeps ticking. He fishes out a radio from his pocket and tosses it onto the table. He touches the still-full cup of tea beside it and feels warmth seep into his fingertips. It feels wrong. He returns his hands to the hilt of his sword.

A pair of eyes tracks the movement from the bottom of a narrow staircase by the front door. When Atom turns his head to look, he sees the face of a young girl staring at him from the shadows. Atom hadn’t noticed her with how still she sat there, but as soon as he makes eye contact, she stutters to her feet.

Atom knows what she sees, knows what he looks like at that moment, but he wonders if she knows that her parents are dead. He tries to say something to her but the only thing that comes out of his mouth is an ugly choked noise. At that, she makes her decision and bolts for the front door.

He stands up and manages two steps in pursuit before he stops.

She slips through the door barefoot and runs. Atom holds himself still and listens to her footsteps rapidly growing quieter as she makes her escape. His body screams at him to go after her, quickly, before he loses her trail. Keep your head down, follow your training, do what needs to be done to stay alive. But the smell of blood is still churning his stomach and she is just a child. So he refuses to take another step, despite the sudden spike of adrenaline rushing through his bloodstream, urging him to go and fulfill his duty. Or else—

Scrubbing at the crusted blood around his mouth, Atom spins back to the dining table and picks up his radio. He clicks it on and tunes in to the channel for body collection. After listing off the apartment address and room number, he reports a total of two bodies and sits back down to wait for their arrival. He keeps his back to the door and stares at a single point on the wall and waits.

A team of four shows up, clad from head to toe in stiff white plastic garb. One of them greets Atom and tries to make small talk but Atom only motions to the kitchen and tries not to look at anyone. The rest of them don’t pay him any attention anyway, and get right to the task at hand. They make quick work of it, and in a matter of minutes Sergei and Katya are neatly hauled out of their home in two shiny white body bags. Atom follows them out of the apartment just as the cleaning crew arrives.

Outside, the world is just the same as it was before, and Milanova is still polishing her knife. She looks up at the commotion at the door and nods at him. Atom walks over to stand beside her. She slides the knife into her holster before giving him a stiff smile.

“Congratulations,” she says. “You passed. I’ll get the paperwork started tonight, and by tomorrow morning you should be able to start your duties as an official Unity Keeper. Welcome aboard, Belov.”

Her hand lands heavily on Atom’s shoulder. She gives it a tight squeeze. “Would you like me to call medical for your face, or do you want to catch a ride with me back to the base?”

“It can wait.” Atom musters a shrug. “Just a scratch.”

“That’s going to get infected without treatment.” she says, as a matter of fact. But she doesn’t push it. She takes her hand from Atom’s shoulder and he takes a small step away. His attention lands on the body collection crew as they begin lifting each bag into the back of their van. Four body bags. Atom ticks off the names in his head. Sergei, Katya, Lev, and a fourth, smaller lump.

Atom has to grip the wall behind him to stay upright.

“You passed your test today, but I hope you know that in the future, there will be no leniency for the type of mistake you made. I understand that you were not intended to take on this mission by yourself, which is why I’m willing to look past your error. But for all future missions, from this day forward, you will be expected to take out all witnesses, despite their involvement with the Target, just as you have been taught all throughout training. Do I make myself clear?”

Atom feels numb from the inside out. A bone-deep, chilling numbness.

“Yes, Sergeant.” he says.

“Good. One more thing, I wanted to give this to you. As a reminder.”

She walks over to the back of the body van and presents him with a bundle of white fur. Lev’s fur hat. Atom takes it and holds it. He doesn’t know what to do with it. He doesn’t know what to say. He wants to leave, he wants to go back to his bed at the barracks, he wants to go to medical, he wants to get back on the metro and rewind this entire day, but the gift works as Milanova intended—Atom digs his fingers into it and knows that there is no going back.

“Blood is the price for peace, Belov. Never forget that.” she says, and Atom—sixteen years old and a killer for the first time in his life—commits those words to memory.

[roxygen22]

Chart

Summary: Timothée Chalamet x female reader. Timothée gets a call that you were in an accident. Happy ending!

C/W: car accident, injury (not too graphic), hospital setting, pregnancy

A/N: not my best work, but I've been sitting on this for weeks and finally made enough progress that I was comfortable posting.

<><><><><>

"Your wife has been in a car accident. She is stable but unconscious."

The words kept running through his head as he drove like a maniac to the hospital. Barely keeping it together, he ran up to the emergency room registration desk.

"I got a call. My wife is here. She was in an accident. What room is she in?" he stuttered through panting breaths.

"What is her name?" the receptionist responded calmly.

"[Y/N] Chalamet."

"She's in room 302 in the trauma wing."

The blood drained from his face as the word "trauma" sank in. With the help of some staff, he finally found your room. He froze as soon as the door opened. You had a huge cut on your forehead and a c-collar around your neck. You were hooked up to IV fluids in one arm, and a blood pressure cuff surrounded the other. Aside from the beeping of the monitor, your room was silent.

As he closed in on your bed, he saw more damage. There were airbag burns on both of your wrists. One of your legs was uncovered to allow the deep gash on your left shin a chance to breathe. He gently took your hand in his and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. "Oh, [y/n]." That's all he could muster before breaking down into a puddle of tears.

After a few minutes, he heard the door open and looked up. The nurse came in to check your IV. "Oh good, I'm glad someone could get here quickly to be with her. Are you Timothée?" she asked.

"Yes. Can you tell me how she is doing? She's so...still."

"Sure." She pulled up your chart on the computer. "She was brought in about an hour ago. The police said a drunk driver ran a red light and t-boned the passenger side. EMTs said she was unconscious at the scene."

Timothée shuddered and placed his hand over his mouth.

"Her EEG showed normal neural activity, and her pupils were reactive, so no signs of a brain bleed. The doctor ordered x-rays of her neck and leg and CT scan of her chest, but since she's pregnant, we will take precautions to shield..."

"Wait, what did you say?"

"She's...oh, you didn't know. Oh my. We had to run bloodwork, which includes an HCG test. Her levels were indicative of early pregnancy. We did an ultrasound of her abdomen when she first got here to check for internal bleeding. The baby seemed unharmed. It is very early but there was a strong heartbeat. We printed this." She handed Timothée a black and white picture on slick paper.

"A baby?" was all he could mutter as he looked back at you. "How long will it take for her to wake up?"

"It could be any minute now, or it could take hours. Sometimes, the brain just needs to rest." She squeezed Timothée's arm reassuringly. "I'll be back once it's time to take her to CT. If you need anything, the nurse's station is just across the hall."

Once the door closed behind the nurse, Timothée looked down at the small picture in his hand. There was an arrow pointing from the word "baby" to a dark, bean shaped spot inside of a larger gray oval. The two of you had decided last year to start trying to get pregnant, or at least not prevent it. And to think he could have lost both of you in the blink of an eye before he even knew. Likely before you even knew. You were terrible at keeping secrets, especially one that big.

"Please wake up, my love." He clasped your hand between both of his and leaned his forehead against them. Silent sobs wracked his body. After a few minutes, he felt your hand twitch. He shot up from his slouched position to stare at your face. Your eyelids twitched as you slowly regained consciousness.

"What's go- Timmy?" you asked groggily.

"Hey," he grinned and loosened one hand to smooth your hair down. "[sniffle] hey there, love, I'm here. I'm here." You looked at his teary eyes and red, puffy face in confusion.

"What happened? Why am I-?" You started to move to sit up, but soreness and the c-collar kept you from doing much. You looked down at the IV in your arm and back up at him, frightened and disoriented.

"Hey, shh. Don't move around too much. You were in an accident. A drunk driver ran a red light. They need to do some more scans just to be sure, but so far everything shows you're going to be alright. Probably sore for a bit, but nothing broken or bleeding."

You leaned your head back against the pillow to look at the ceiling and take it all in. After a few moments of silence, you said, "I'm guessing my car is totaled." You loved your little red sports car. It was your first big "adult" purchase after you graduated from college years ago.

"Probably. I came straight here, so I haven't seen it. But...," Timothée paused. "Maybe this time we should look for one with four doors?"

You pulled your head back up to shoot him a puzzled look. He smiled and handed you the ultrasound printout.

"An ultrasound? Is- is this mine?!" you squeaked.

"You know I can't keep a secret to save my life," you replied with a laugh. "We're going to have a baby?!" Then you felt yourself go pale, remembering what brought you here in the first place. You placed your hand on your stomach. "Is it okay?"

He laughed and cried simultaneously. "I guess that answers whether or not you knew."

"The nurse said there was a strong heartbeat." Timothée placed his hand over yours. "We're going to have a baby, [y/n]." He nuzzled your cheek with his nose. "I'm so glad you both are alright."

<><><><><>

Bonus chapter

Masterlist

[xf-cases-solved]

i made more x-files words with my brain, wrote them down, and then put them on the internet for you to read and process into meaning with your own brain, if you're so inclined. cancer arc angst for those who are always sluts for s4 like me

click on the following link to consume my words: She Still Has Her Hair

[cw: suicidal ideation and descriptions of illness/hospitals/ivs/pain medication]

here's a snippet:

She hasn't lost her hair, and that's so much worse.

If she had lost her hair, maybe he would have noticed how bad things have gotten before now. 

Because that's what you think of when you think of cancer patients, right? You picture bald heads and missing brows above sunken, darkly circled eyes. You picture tears in the bathroom as the buzz of a razor shears away the remaining tufts among the patchy surface of a scalp. You picture each fallen strand as another inch marched toward a headstone. When you see a cancer patient with no hair, you know that they are Sick with a capital S. When a cancer patient with no hair shows symptoms of their illness, it doesn't come as a surprise.

However, Scully hasn't lost her hair, and so when she calls him at eleven fifteen on a Sunday night—voice a cracked windshield about to shatter into a million pieces, and a sob lodged in her throat like a chicken bone she can't cough up—he's taken by surprise.

He shouldn't be, but he is.

She still has her hair.

But "Mulder, it's me" has never sounded so frail before, and it terrifies him almost more than the voicemail she left on his answering machine two, nearly three years ago; the one that ended with the sounds of a physical fight filled with cries for help before being abruptly cut off, leaving nothing but horrible questions and no answers.

"What's wrong?" he asks. He'd been dozing on the couch with the lights of a muted infomercial dancing over his face, but at the sound of her voice he is instantly upright and alert. When she doesn't answer right away, he presses, more firmly, "Scully? What's wrong? "

"I was prescribed a new medication at my appointment Friday afternoon, and I can't..." Through the receiver he hears her take a steadying breath. "Supposedly this medication is meant to have a less nauseating effect on patients, but in roughly seven percent of cases, it has actually been shown to increase nausea in certain individuals, leading to severe emesis which eventually culminates in dehydration, presenting with symptoms such as dry mouth, lightheadedness, infrequent or oddly colored urine, confu—"

"And are you one of these patients in the seven percent?" Mulder asks, interrupting her clinical recitation that he suspects is her way of keeping herself detached from her own experience. Scully's silence is answer enough. "When was the last time you were able to keep something down?"

"I don't know," she says quietly.

"More than twelve hours?"

"Yes."

"More than twenty-four?" Nothing. "More than thirty-six?" She's silent. "Scully, you haven't been able to keep down food or water for over thirty-six hours?"

"It started early yesterday morning. Before sunrise, I think."

"Is it just vomiting? Is there anything else going on?"

"I..." She trails off, and Mulder suspects her innate desire to never show a shred of weakness to anyone (but especially him, for some godforsaken reason) is currently at war with the part of her that's spent the better part of two days all alone on the bathroom floor. 

"Tell me, Scully. Don't try to lie or sugarcoat it, just be honest."

"The medication, in conjunction with the physical act of vomiting, has led to a fairly severe case of myalgia—muscle pain—that began and is most prominent in the neck and upper back, but which has since spread to... to... oh God, Mulder"—the crack in her voice is heartbreaking—"it hurts everywhere. Everywhere . I'm in so much pain and I haven't taken a piss in over a day and every time I throw up my head pounds so hard my vision goes white. That's not hyperbole, Mulder, these headaches are quite literally blinding, and what if it's not the pain causing it? What if there's new tumor growth affecting my optic nerves, and this is just foreshadowing for what's yet to come? I don't want to go blind, Mulder, what am I going to do? I can't work if I'm blind. I can't do anything. I don't like the dark, and everything in my body hurts, and I just want it all to stop. Please help. Please help make it stop, Mulder, I hurt so bad." 

By the end of her venting, the sob that had been stuck in her throat has been set loose, and she's crying freely now, pouring out her heart in a way that would probably sound like full-blown bawling if she were strong enough. As it is, her weeping comes out in a strained wheeze, like the squeaky whistle of air sneaking through a small crack in the window when the car is speeding down a highway. 

"Please," she begs again, and the way she speaks reminds him of what it was like to wake up with a stomachache in the middle of the night as a kid and cry out for his mother. It reminds him how desperately afraid and alone he'd feel until his mother was finally roused by his calls, and padded into his room with sleepy eyes and a soft voice so as to not wake up his sister in the room next door.

Maybe, he thinks, it doesn't matter how old you are—that no matter what, being sick by yourself will always be your loneliest moment.

"I'm grabbing my keys right now, Scully, I'm on my way out the door." He jingles the ring of keys in his hand by the receiver of the phone so that she can hear their little chime and hopefully be comforted by it. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Okay," she whispers, no longer crying, but Mulder suspects it has more to do with a lack of physical strength than anything else.

"I'm gonna have to take you to the hospital," he warns. He's sure she expects as much, but it would be easier to get the fight out of the way now if she's going to be resistant.

It's a testament to how utter dogshit she must feel when she says nothing more than another melancholic, "Okay." Somehow, her agreeing to seek help scares him more than if she were refusing. 

"Hang tight, Scully," he tells her gently. "I'm coming."