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marvelsswansong · 1 year ago

Text

show and tell

summary: a white rose at the train station. his hand in yours at the zoo. his mother's golden mirror. does he love you or is he simply trying to gain the public's favour and secure the Plith prize? you're unsure. and so is he, until he very much isn't.

tags: coriolanus snow x fem!reader, slow burn (ish), fluff, angst, technically a happy ending but quite dark, purely based off the movie but I take some creative detours, CW for violence, mentions of starvation, toxic/manipulative behaviors and a semi-dark!snow (please read at your own discretion, take care of yourself above all else :))

☆ word count: 5.6K+ words ☆

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

Coriolanus hates waiting.

The stillness, the eerie silence of an early morning at the Capitol train station. It eats away at his core.

His mouth tastes like copper, his throat's starting to itch from the dryness and there's a brief moment of fear as he ponders if he's making a huge mistake. A sharp whistle ringing through the station signals the train's arrival, and as his eyes adjust to the billowing grey smoke and a sea of white (the peace keepers), the flower in his left hand suddenly feels heavy. As if the weight of the situation is starting to bear on his shoulders.

He wasn't supposed to be here. If all had gone to plan, he would've already been the recipient of the Plinth Prize and taken the first car back home to buy his grandma'am some chocolates and Tigris a new dress. No more worrying. No more surviving on dwindled fortunes. No more pretending to fit in with high society.

Then, of course, the rules had to change. Viewership was down and it was of both Dean Highbottom's and Dr Gaul's opinion that what was missing was spectacle. Now, whoever the best mentor was in transforming their tribute into prime entertainment would win the prize.

"Your role is to turn these tributes into spectacles. Not survivors."

The silence that hung after this announcement in the Academy was heavy, but Coriolanus knew better than to show his true emotions on his face. After all, if there was one thing that he knew how to do as the star student of the Academy: it was to plan. And when he saw your... unruly introduction to the public, sneaking a snake down a woman's dress before cussing out the audience, it dawned on him that it would be a tall order to endear you to the public.

But not impossible.

The sounds of the tributes being roughly unloaded off the platform snaps him back into reality, his eyes easily landing on your figure as you jump off the train, your upper arms supported by the tribute (Jessup, Coriolanus recalls his name being) standing next to you. Pushing through the soldiers, the blonde nearly breaks into a small sprint to catch up to you as you turn your head upon hearing the sound of hurried footsteps.

"Welcome to the Capitol." the strange man in front of you says, before holding out a pristine white rose. It's a peculiar looking flower, you think, a kind of flower you've never seen before (at least, certainly not back in your home district). It looks almost artificial, you think, with how perfectly white and untouched its petals are.

The blonde assesses your cautious glance - the sunlight hitting the under color of your irises perfectly in a glistening twilight - and a fleeting thought passes by, that the tv camera didn't do your natural beauty justice. He has to suppress a smirk when you finally respond, narrowing your eyes at him with your arms crossing above your chest.

"You seem like you shouldn't be here."

He chuckles at that.

"I'm not supposed to be. And yet here I am." A pause. "But I'm your mentor. Coriolanus Snow."

That's a first, you think. Mentors for tributes.

"And what does my mentor do except bring me roses?" you question, flicking the buds with your fingers. Coriolanus just smiles.

"I do my best to take care of you."

Your supposed mentor says it so sincerely, you think, and he's obviously charming with his devilishly handsome looks and low whisper. But there's something that stops you from holding out your hand and taking the rose from his fingers. You suppose he isn't lying - after all, what would be the point of it - but there's something in his eyes that you can't quite explain.

Something that makes your stomach flutter in both excitement and dread.

"Move." the soldier behind you then barks, shoving you and Jessup forward. You decide to give your mentor one last grin and a quiet "see you later", thinking that's going to be the last you see of him for a while.

The last thing you expect is for him to jump into the back of the vehicle alongside the other tributes, drawing the eyre of a few who pin him against the moving vehicle and start taunting him with violence.

"You look rather out of place." the tall boy pinning Coriolanus drawls.

"I'm not, I can assure you. I'm here for (Y/n). I'm her mentor."

That puts the unwanted attention on you, as the other tributes begin to circle around you with sinister expressions twisting on their lips.

"Mentor, huh? How come little miss music gets one but not the rest of us?" a brunette girl drawls, eyeing you up and down.

The boy pinning Coriolanus down applies stronger pressure to his neck, and you rise in an attempt to intervene, but he meets your gaze discreetly and motions for you to remain seated.

"You all have a mentor, they're just... not here." he croaks.

"Right, and we're all supposed to believe you?" another girl, this one from district 4 you believe, taunts. "What's to say we shouldn't just kill you now?"

The blonde shoots you a nervous look and that's when you feel pity. Just like you, he's in a foreign environment and pretending to be brave. You suppose also that he's your only ticket out, your only chance of potential success at surviving in the games.

So you intervene.

"You could kill him. But then the moment this truck stops you'll all be gathered round and killed by the peace keepers. He's clearly Capitol. And if they're willing to hang District people simply for stealing, can't imagine what killing a member of the Capitol would mean for punishment."

That scares them off and Coriolanus sits down next to you, breathing heavily in an effort to catch his breath, before quietly thanking you.

"You really wanna thank me?" you quirk, leaning over to whisper in his ear. "Start by thinking about how I can actually win."

The truck then suddenly comes to a halt, and the next thing you know the truck is being tipped over and the doors fly open. Coriolanus grasps your arm in lightning speed, pulling you close towards him so that he'd hit the harsh ground first, absorbing most of the impact.

When you shakily stand up on your feet, you realize you're enclosed in a large metal cage akin to that of an animal enclosure. There's even an over enthusiastic TV presenter in the background, who now seems to have noticed your mentor and begins to call out to him.

"Where are we?" you breathe out, already shivering from the autumn cold.

The blonde barely shifts, only dusting off his suit in a calm manner.

"(Y/n) (L/n) from District 12, welcome to the Capitol Zoo. Would you like to meet my neighbors?" he jokes, eyes slyly shifting to the right to refer to the small audience that has now gathered around the TV presenter.

You hesitate, but then he takes your right hand in his before leaning over to whisper in your ear.

"You want to win, right? Good. I'd like to win as well. And the first thing you'll need to do? Perform for the cameras." Coriolanus accentuates the end of his sentence by sliding the rose behind your ear, a gesture which draws an excited reaction from the crowd.

Is your mentor doing it for the cameras or for something else? You're unsure. But given your desperation to win, and the fact that he clearly knows more about the games than you do, you decide to play along.

Warm hands twisting in the cold, Coriolanus drags your enjoined hands towards the TV camera as he does what he does best. Lie, smile, and charm the audience. Even when the attention turns to you, as Lucky Flickerman (that's his name, you learn) directs questions towards you, the blonde never lets go of your hand in his.

Before he leaves, as news of his rule-breaking spreads amongst the members of the public, you grab him out of desperation one last time.

"Please get us some food, we've been starving since the Reaping."

The blonde nods, but you can't help but feel anxious: not knowing if his previous gestures of kindness were just for show.

-------------------------------

"Who's that for?"

Coriolanus had meant to sneak the sandwiches and cookies into his spare napkin discreetly, but of course Clemensia had to be two steps behind him, interrogating his every move.

"Just not very hungry, that's all." he nearly grits through his teeth, forcing a fake smile.

The dark haired girl chuckles at that, shaking her head sideways.

"You don't have to lie to me, Snow. Especially me."

"... It's for (Y/n)." he quietly admits. She hums at that, picking at her own food from across the table.

"That's awfully nice of you. What, already going soft for some girl you met yesterday?" she teases, and it immediately elicits an angry refusal out of him.

"It's not like that." Coriolanus snaps, his sudden harshness making his classmate flinch in surprise. "I just... can't have her dying before the games even begin because she's not as well fed as the others."

Clemensia scoffs, flicking the rest of her orange peel into the trash.

"Honestly, Snow, I don't know why you bother. She's clearly not going to survive. I mean, have you seen the tributes from districts 1 and 3?"

Ignoring her comments, he wordlessly slips away from the table and hails a ride down to the zoo. News of his intentions travels fast and whilst he doesn't mind Sejanus' company, it takes intense effort to force himself to look away from Arachne when she tags along and decides to taunt a caged tribute with a glass bottle.

"You came back." you mutter, staring at the neatly wrapped napkin in disbelief. Coriolanus dislikes how surprised you sound, then hates himself more for caring about what you think.

Why do you care what she thinks? he scolds himself. She's just a tribute you're mentoring.

"Of course I did. Can't have my tribute dying before the games even begin, now can I?" he teases, feigning nonchalant.

The presence of academy mentors seems to have attracted a crowd, with a few photographers even pointing their lenses towards you and Coriolanus as his hand slips through the metal gates to meet yours to hand off the food. When your fingers touch his, a part of you wonders if he would've ever came back if there was no PR involved.

Too grateful and too hungry to care, you just say thank you, before breaking off a piece for Jessup and offering half a sandwich to your mentor.

"Oh no, I'm not hungry." he says out of instinct, surprised by your offering. You raise your eyebrows in response, pursing your lips.

"You sure about that? Because I could hear your stomach growl from a mile away." you retort.

"Right. Uh, thank you."

Biting into the soft bread, you chew, savoring every bite. A silence settles between the two of you as you both eat, right before you ask him a quiet question.

"... Did you get into a lot of trouble for what you did for me yesterday?" your eyes shine with worry, you nervously looking up at him for an answer. He finds himself again surprised by how much you seem to care.

Yes, he wants to say. I nearly got myself disqualified as a mentor and it would've been the end of my family's future in the Capitol. But he swallows his thoughts down, alongside the dry taste of the tuna sandwich.

"Not much. Actually, I was able to convince the gamemaster, Dr Gaul, to implement a few changes to the games."

"Really, like what?"

"To let the public send you donations. That way, I could send you supplies you needed into the arena - food, water, medicine. It'd mean having to do the extra job of playing to the public and getting them to root for your survival, but with a voice like yours, the songbird of Panem -"

Your smile drops at that, your gaze turning stern at his suggestion.

"I only sing when I please for an audience I choose." your eyebrows furrow, your usually sweet expression melting into something more sour. It's oddly cute, he thinks.

"I know, but I'm really going to need you to try. It's for your own survival. Our survival." he emphasizes, staring right into your eyes. You can't suppress your sad smile at that, crumbling the empty napkin in your hands.

"Are you sure it's not just for your survival?"

Your question haunts Coriolanus that night, alongside the sounds of broken glass and pained gasps as Arachne lies bleeding on the ground, having been stabbed in the neck by one of the tributes. When he quickly runs to his classmate, he doesn't get to see your expression, as you're ripped away by Jessup pulling you into safety in an instant and peace keepers swarm the scene in an effort to remain calm.

When he's back home and the crimson blood coating his hands have dried from where he was holding his dying classmate's wounds, he wonders if there's any truth to your answer.

-------------------------------

Everything changes at the arena tour.

You've not had much sleep. You're confused, you're angry, but most of all you've been haunted by your conflicting feelings towards your mentor and the name he'd called you - songbird. A silly little songbird, you think spitefully.

To sing and charm the very same public who had doomed her to a violent game of death.

It was absurd, really, that he'd even ask that. It made your stomach churn and your head ache at the thought of cheapening your craft for something so juvenile.

And yet, when you spot the familiar red suit and white blonde hair in the mass of other mentors at the arena, you can't help but feel warmth in your chest and stomach. A part of you even feels lucky, given that the other mentors seem to waste their time insulting their tributes or being too afraid to talk to them. Whilst Coriolanus, on the other hand, seems to be full of ideas to ensure your survival.

"The game master liked my suggestions. So the donations system is going to be implemented, with a broadcast beforehand for the tributes to get a chance to endear themselves to the public for donations." He's speaking so fast that you almost think he enjoys explaining the games to you. "Now what this means is that assuming you get enough donations, when the bell goes off, you don't go for the weapons. You don't fight. You just run as fast as you can, hide and stay alive for as long as you can."

"How can you even be sure I'll get enough donations for you to be able to send supplies?" you mutter, looking around at the other tributes. "A lot of these folks are a lot taller and stronger than I am. They've got a much better chance at surviving than I do."

Coriolanus surprises you by taking both of your hands in his, squeezing your palms tight in his cold palms.

"I know, but we have something none of the others have."

You scrunch your face in confusion.

"What's that?"

"A story. A strong connection between you and me, a Capitol mentor and a District 12 tribute. Not to mention, your incredible singing and songwriting. Match that with my knack for public relations and we'll have enough donations to send you any supplies necessary for your victory in the games."

You realize then that Coriolanus is unlike anyone else you've ever met. So confident, so sure, so perceptive of other people and their secret desires and pitfalls. His unwavering commitment to his beliefs is admirable, if not almost foolish, but you keep that part to yourself.

"How're you so sure I'll even survive the first few minutes?" you push back, still unconvinced, though you don't pull away from his hold. "And, again, I don't just sing for anyone."

The blonde opens his mouth to respond, but he's interrupted when a sudden cascade of dust and fire crumbles down from the ceiling of the arena. The sound of a bomb exploding reverberates as you're both thrown off of your feet by the impact. Your head is still ringing from the chaos when Jessup pulls at your sleeves, commanding you to walk away from the wreckage.

Rising onto shaky legs, you even spot another tribute running from the guards towards a blown out hole on the side of the building. And when your eyes meet with Coriolanus' frantic ones, his lower half trapped underneath rubble, you both recognize that you now have an unbridled chance to escape -

But you don't.

To the blonde's complete shock, you instead shove your friend off, screaming as you lift the heavy cement column with all your strength in an effort to pry the debris off of his body. With the help of a few peace keepers, it works, but Coriolanus falls into unconsciousness quickly as he succumbs to the excruciating pain of crushed ribs and bruised limbs.

The last thing he sees before he fades into darkness is your teary eyes, a sight he so badly wants to fix by wiping away your tears with his fingers...

When he eventually wakes, it's in a dark hospital next to his grandma'am and sister. There's a roar on the television screen as you're brought onto the broadcast, shy smile and a glittering guitar in hand. It hits him that you're actually going to sing.

"I didn't have a chance to... uh... write a new song. But I'd like to dedicate this performance to someone very special who's recently been hurt." you say into the mike, your eyes clearly brimming with nerves and doubt.

As you sing, there's a tight sensation in Coriolanus' chest once the lyrics settle into his mind - a small voice whispers in his mind that it's jealousy, for you singing about a boy back in your home town who broke your heart - but it's overwhelmed by the feelings of gratitude and awe that you'd ended up doing what he asked you to do. All that, after selflessly saving his life.

"A...are you okay, Coryo?" is all Tigris asks, brushing his hair back and gently guiding him back down onto bed upon seeing his expression twist into one of discomfort.

"She could've run."

"What?"

"At the arena. The blast blew open a large opening on the side of the stadium. I saw one of the tributes actually make it out that way." he lets out a shaky breath, hating you for what you've done to him to make him feel this way. "Damn it, Tigris. She could've run. She could've-"

A single tear drops from his left eye and onto his injured palm, his weak voice giving away his true emotions.

"She could've saved herself from even having to participate in the games. But she stayed. She fucking stayed behind to lift the debris off of me."

"She saved your life." his sister finishes for him, the atmosphere turning somber as she wraps her arms around his shoulder. "I'm just so glad that you're both safe."

As you retreat from the screen, the donation numbers only piling up higher as Lucky Flickerman closes out the broadcast, a hot fire lights up in Coriolanus' stomach.

He has to save you.

No matter what it takes.

--------------------------------------

"You know he's just using you, right?"

After the broadcast, once it's revealed that you were given the largest amount of donations out of all the other tributes, Coral from District 4 corners you backstage.

"Pardon?" you fake ignorance, a small smile playing on your lips, which only seems to aggravate the girl further.

"Your pretty boy mentor. He's only been faking all sweet for you to get the public to send you donations. In fact, I bet he didn't even bother to try and pull himself out of the wreckage so that he could get more public sympathy.

You snap at that, all fake modesty melting away in an instant.

"You have no idea what the fuck you're talking about, Coral. Coriolanus isn't like that." you spit, but all she does is look down at you with a nasty smirk on her lips.

"Oh really? And how would you know, little songbird? Think he'd care about someone from district 12? And why do you think he wants you to win so badly? Because he's a good person?" she mocks, her face now a mere inches away from yours. "No. I reckon it's more for the prize money."

You can't sleep that night at the zoo, tossing and turning in the dark. Your mind can't seem to rest, torn between the adrenaline and dread for the games tomorrow, alongside the constant worry over Coriolanus' wellbeing and doubts over his genuinity and trustworthiness.

Coral's just trying to get in my head. you repeat to yourself, over and over again. You're on the edge of sleep, exhausted and upset by your conflicting emotions, when you hear a familiar voice coming from the darkness.

It sounds like Coriolanus.

You sit up straight, and it's true: he's here, and he's whispering your name repeatedly, beckoning you towards the front of the cage and away from your sleeping competitors. Suddenly, the overwhelming exhaustion and fatigue disappears, and you find yourself gravitating towards the only person you've been thinking about for the past 24 hours.

"Coryo, you're... you're alright." you sigh out, almost overwhelmed with relief. You don't even realize you're crying until his hands reach up and brush away your tears, his warm hand a stark contrast to the freezing cold of the night.

"I am. All thanks to you, songbird." he breathes out, his fingers tracing the ripples of your cheeks. His head feels dizzy and his hands tremble as he searches his pockets for his mother's golden compact mirror.

"Don't call me that." you weakly laugh, as he does too. "What's this?" you ask, staring at the object he’s folded gently into your hands.

"It's for you to use in the arena. Now listen to what I say very carefully. Don't breathe this in, don't spill it on yourself, and only use it when you really need to." he slowly explains, as if he's terrified that you're going to harm yourself by merely carrying it in your pockets.

"Is... is this allowed? For you to sneak in and give me this?" you whisper, looking around your surroundings, but it's pitch black.

The blonde purses his lips, using every muscle in his body to keep his expression neutral.

No, it's certainly not allowed. I am risking my life, as well as my family's future, by doing this.

"That's not important. What is important is that the blast from the arena has created a hole leading out to a bunch of service tunnels. I tested it out myself, it leads towards the outside, far away from the peace keepers."

"Wait, I don't understa-"

Desperation grabs a hold of him, and it's a foreign feeling - the crushing despair of wanting to protect someone that he can't, the burning urge to want to put someone else ahead of him for once.

"What I need you to do tomorrow, (Y/n), is to run. The moment the alarm rings, don't even think of running towards the weapons or fighting the others. Don't even hide anymore. Just… just run towards the tunnels, by yourself, and get out."

"But what about Jessup-" you hiccup. Your head's spinning, confused and horrified by your mentor's change of plans and the prospect of leaving behind your friend to die in the arena.

"Forget about him." Coriolanus snaps. Suddenly, his eyes are cold and his voice is firm, commanding you as if you have no choice in the matter. "In there, he's as dangerous as the other tributes. You can't trust anyone, not even your supposed friends, okay? The games, they-" he chokes on his own words, and there's something again in Coriolanus' eyes that you can't quite decipher. "They bring out the worst in people. Promise me you'll run."

It makes your stomach twist in anxiety.

"I-"

"Please."

As he begs, his face crumbles, his voice so desperate and feeble that you can't find it in yourself to say no.

"I... I'll try." you relent, and he lets out a sigh of relief at your agreement.

"Good. Perfect." He takes your head in his hands and softly kisses your temple. "I won't let you die in there, okay? Just like you took care of me after the explosion. I'm going to take care of you."

"I'm your mentor. I do my best to take care of you."

Coriolanus' words from the train station echo in your head as you nod, pocketing the mirror deep inside your dress to hide it away from plain sight.

"Will I... will I be able to see you, after the games?"

You immediately feel stupid for even asking that. Everyone knows winning the games merely allows your return to your home district. And on all logical accounts, it wouldn't make any sense for the man to give up his life in the Capitol to follow you back to 12.

But he smiles at your innocent question, only nodding whilst squeezing your hands in the dark. To your feeble heart and mind, it feels like a genuine promise.

"Of course, my songbird. I'll do whatever it takes."

"Don't make promises you can't keep." you whisper.

"I never do."

And for the first time, you think you actually believe him wholeheartedly.

----------------------------------

You can't believe it.

You've won.

You were so sure you were going to die once the snakes had been released, eyes closing shut once the venomous snakes began to crawl up your skin, but as you continued to sing... The reptiles simply slithered by your side, remaining docile and non-threatening. And based on the snakes' sudden change of behavior and Highbottom's scowl when he announced you as the victor of the 10th Hunger Games - "consider yourself lucky, little girl, as it seems your mentor was willing to break more than a few rules for you" - your stomach churns at the realization that Coriolanus kept his promise.

He did whatever it took to get you out.

Even cheating.

You've only heard whispers of the punishments for cheating at the Capitol. But based on the frequent hangings of rebels in your home district, you can't imagine that the punishment would be very kind.

Weeks have passed since your victory, since the last time you've even seen Coriolanus, but it does nothing to erase him from your mind. You still see his faint silhouette in the mornings, when your eyes have barely adjusted to the morning light and there's a pile of clothes sitting on the chair beside your bed. You think you hear his voice amongst the sea of strangers’ conversations, calling out for his 'songbird'. And you swear you see his face in every crowd at the bar.

Unbeknownst to you, Coriolanus is having the same struggles on the opposite end of the country. Luckily, bearing the last name Snow meant his punishment for cheating was to be lighter than the usual hanging: mandatory military service. District 8. But he's sure to bring his last few bills to bribe the immigration officer for a transfer to 12.

All to come find you.

He suffers through the first week of training - grueling hours, hanging ceremonies, endless ramblings from Sejanus about making a change for the better. He pretends not to notice Sejanus establishing connections within the rebel community, until he can’t ignore it anymore. After all, Coriolanus simply can't afford his friend’s idealism and recklessness to get him killed too, and potentially you, when you're thought to be linked to the movement by mere virtue of association.

Especially not you, Coriolanus thinks.

After the games, of having to watch you bleed, sob and fight for hours on end as he stood helplessly, only able to watch: even the passing thought of your death elicits a violent reaction in him. He'll do anything for you.

Even if that means turning in his only friend to prove his loyalty to the Capitol.

It's an unremarkable Wednesday night for you when you're singing a song at the bar, black guitar in hand and the smell of booze thick in the air, when your eyes come across a familiar face.

It takes you a few seconds, of course. You almost think it’s a hallucination, if it wasn’t for the sea of other soldiers surrounding him, validating his presence. His fluffy white locks are gone, replaced with a clean buzz cut. He's lost a bit of weight, his shoulders more broad and rough from military training, and the lack of expensive bright fabrics draped around his figure is jarring at first. But it suits him, you think.

The song can't finish any faster before you're slinging your guitar to the back and rushing up to Coriolanus, immediately throwing your arms around him. He stiffens in your embrace before relaxing, his arms finding your waist and squeezing you tightly. And you can't help but savor every essence of his being: he smells of sweat and coal (unlike his Capitol uniform which always smelled of florals and clean linen) and you can feel the cool metal of his dog tags press against your collarbone at this angle.

"You came back for me." you breathe out, still not believing that he's in front of you. Your ex mentor just smiles, tapping your cheeks with his hands.

"Said I'd never break a promise, now didn't I?"

As the next performer goes up on stage, recapturing the attention of the audience, you pull him away towards the back room, far away from the bustling crowds and twinkling lights.

"I've thought of you every day, my songbird." Coriolanus whispers against your skin once you two are away from the crowds, his head falling forwards into the nape of your neck.

Your cheeks warm at his comment, your fingers coming up to play with the dog tags around his neck, before a light chuckle escapes your lips.

"What's so funny? Did you not miss me?" the blonde teases, and you shake your head sideways in denial.

"Of course I missed you. I missed you more than you could imagine."

"Then what's the chuckle for?"

You let out a short sigh, not knowing if it’d be wise to bring it up. But all he does is encouraging you, looking deep into your eyes and nodding, urging you to say what’s on your mind. You relent, shoulders sagging.

"It's just... when I won the games, Highbottom congratulated me. But not for winning the games. But for surviving you." you awkwardly chuckle in hopes of diffusing the seriousness of your question. "Is it true, Coryo?"

"What are you getting at?" is his response, coy and low. You can't tell if he's amused, annoyed or disturbed.

Or all three at once.

"There's rumors, you know. I heard that you... you had to kill a tribute." you whisper, as if what you’re saying is the biggest secret in the world. "Is it true?"

Coriolanus pauses at that, the smirk on his face dropping for a fraction of a second before he's cupping your face and lifting your gaze to meet his eyes. His stare is so strong, so unwavering, almost to the point of unnerving you. But it's matched with such warmth and softness in his touch as he strokes your hair.

"You have to understand, darling… It was just like the snakes. If I hadn't rigged the game by getting the snakes used to your smell so they wouldn't attack you, you would've died. And if I hadn't killed the tribute charging at me when I had to sneak into the arena to rescue Sejanus-" he sighs, slow and long. He looks as if he’s thinking hard. "I had to, my songbird. I had to do it to protect you. To take care of you." he emphasizes.

You're not sure what kind of an answer you wanted, but you're unable to respond immediately, as it slowly dawns on you that this man both cheated and killed another person for you.

His response to your silence is a swift kiss, calloused hands dropping to your waist to pull you in close, the gesture desperate and messy. Breathing heavily when he parts from you, he kisses you once more, this time a short peck which is more rough and demanding.

"I would do anything for you, (Y/n) (L/n). Anything for you."

Coriolanus chooses to keep quiet about the fact that technically, he could've just injured the tribute charging towards him instead. Or that it felt freeing to have ended the tribute’s life. Or that just a few hours ago, he tipped off the Capitol about Sejanus' rebellion. All in an effort to secure your unbridled safety. So that he doesn’t ever have to let go of you again.

"Now, where are your manners, my songbird? Aren't you going to thank me?" he whispers against your lips, smoothing out your hair.

"T-thank you, Coryo." you manage to stutter.

He smiles at that, kissing the top of your head as he sways you from side to side.

"Of course, love. Don't worry. We’re going to be just fine. In fact, everything will be fine from now on."

As you peak out from under his embrace, you're not so sure if you can believe him anymore.

a/n: leave it to a new hunger games movie and Tom Blyth playing young!Snow to make me return from my 1.5 year long writing hiatus.

I'm quite nervous about this one as it's my first time writing for a semi-dark character and also because it's been so long since I posted my writing on here... But I hope you enjoyed, please leave a comment, like, reblog, etc if you liked it. If this one is received well I might go ahead and post the other Snow fics currently sitting in my drafts!!!

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x you #hunger games x reader #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #coriolanus snow oneshot #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #1k

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leahwllmsn · 1 year ago

Text

someday when you leave me, I bet these memories follow you around

leah williamson x reader

word count: 6.3k

Five years after you leave Arsenal, you see Leah in the streets of London. You think that seeing your ex’s smile after all this time shouldn’t hurt this much.

; angst

Nothing lasts forever, but this is gonna take me down

y/n

The first time you kissed Leah was when you were fifteen and Leah was sixteen in your shared hotel room during an away game for Arsenal academy.

It was sloppy and awkward but it was perfect.

At that moment, with your laughter echoing throughout the small room and your eyes reflecting a newfound happiness, you figured you were destined to fall.

At fifteen, you knew you were too young to know what love was. But every time Leah laughed, you also knew that you were one step closer to figuring it all out.

Despite everything, you kept it all to yourself. Even after your first kiss, you never brought it up—and Leah didn’t either. You were glad. You didn’t think you were ready to have that conversation.

Still, you and Leah kept the secret glances, the longing stares, and the kisses shared when it was just the two of you in your bedroom (you had a bunk bed so the two of you mostly spent time at yours, on the top bunk, just in case someone was able to enter despite the locked door).

You were never going to become an actual couple. You knew this. While dating a teammate wasn’t prohibited, it was surely complicated. Let alone dating someone of the same gender—you didn’t know how your parents would react to that. But you figured that the fleeting moment of happiness whenever Leah kissed you wouldn’t hurt if nobody was to ever find out.

When you lost Leah in the end, you didn’t let yourself cry because you knew it was coming; your relationship was doomed from the start.

It was an unspoken ending that you had foreseen the moment Leah kissed you back that first time.

(No matter how hard you tried to change the ending, you couldn’t).

Leah

Leah met you when she was twelve and you were eleven. You were there to protect her from the hurtful words of boys at the park and you were there to comfort her when thunderstorms came and she was desperately trying to hide her shivers.

Since the first day you two met, Leah knew that you would be someone important to her—she didn’t know how, but Leah had a feeling that you were going to be someone to her. And that became true with the way you were always there at every important moment of Leah’s life.

After Leah’s first terrible game, when one of the coaches were too harsh on her and she ran to the changing room crying, you were there to hold her. The first time Leah missed practice because she fell sick, you were there to distract her with cookies and silly jokes and goofy faces.

And the day Leah Williamson did the unthinkable and told everyone that she was leaving Arsenal, you were there to hold her hand the entire ride back to her apartment from the training ground.

The only time you weren't there was when Leah left for Barcelona, and it was because Leah specifically asked you not to come.

You texted her that day, but Leah didn’t reply. And for five years that text was the last thing Leah had from you. Leah figured it was for the best.

y/n: safe flight leah

y/n: i love you

y/n: i always will

y/n

You moved to Los Angeles a month after Leah left. Leah was off to a fresh start, you wanted—no, you needed to do the same.

Everyone wondered what happened between the two of you that made Leah leave her most beloved club, and with the most shocking revelation that you weren't coming with her.

You only shrugged every time, forcing a wave of dismissal, “people drift apart. It happens all the time. Life goes on.” And it was true, you and Leah weren’t meant to last forever. You didn’t know how Beth got the idea that your love was written for the stars and that it was going to last a lifetime.

You knew from the start that you were a ticking time tomb, you were even surprised that it lasted that long.

Leah

“You never really tell us what happened between you and y/n.”

Leah looks at her teammates, an amused expression on her face. “It’s been years and you’re just asking me this now?”

Lucy shrugs indifferently. “You two clearly didn’t want to talk about it, so Kiera and I agreed to not touch the subject. But like you said, it’s been years, and you’ve probably moved on, so it should be fine in asking right…?”

“But,” Kiera interjects, her face full of worry. “If you don’t want to talk about it then it’s fine. As long as you’re fine then it’s great.”

Leah averts her gaze away. She doesn’t think she would ever be fine without you, but she’s able to get by her day without the pain in her chest, so it’s something.

“I was willing to let everyone know that she was the love of my life, yet she was more than fine with keeping me a secret,” Leah answers simply and that’s the last time Lucy and Kiera ever bring the topic up.

y/n

“Are roses really your favorite flower or are you just saying that because it’s the most basic flower ever?”

Leah laughed at her question. “What?”

“I’m just curious.” you wrapped an arm around Leah’s waist and cuddled further into her.

“What is your favorite flower?” Leah asked back.

“Daisies.”

“Then it’s my favorite too.”

You giggled and placed a kiss on Leah’s shoulder. “You’re silly. What if I told you my favorite flowers are actually sunflowers?”

“Then sunflowers are my favorite too.”

“Leaaah.”

Leah giggled along and turned to her side. You were face to face, so close that you could count the barely noticeable sunspots on her face.

“You remind me of sunflowers,” you admitted in a whisper.

“How so?” Leah whispered back.

“You’re so full of happiness and… and sunshine. Sunflowers are the embodiment of summer and that’s exactly what you are to me—the summer warmth from the blaring sun that burned me up yet I do not mind it one bit ‘cause I feel happy and content.”

Leah stared at her, you couldn’t piece what she was thinking. “Didn’t know you were this cheesy,” was what Leah finally said.

You simply grinned at Leah and pecked her lips. “Did you know,” you continued. “That there’s an ancient Greek myth about why sunflowers follow the sun?”

Leah hummed and closed her eyes, her hands were gently stroking your waist, letting you know that she was listening.

“Clytie—she was a nymph—adored Apollo, the God of Sun. And when he fell in love with another nymph, Clytie became jealous and told the other nymph’s father about the relationship, who then punished his daughter by burying her alive. Apollo became angry, obviously. He turned Clytie into a flower, but even then she still loved him and would spend her days watching him as he moved the sun across the sky, just like sunflowers move to face the sun.”

“That’s… something,” Leah whispered out, opening her eyes. “It’s kinda sad.”

“Right?”

“So the reason sunflowers are your favorite is because of its tragic story?”

“It’s not tragic!” you exclaimed, a pout on your lips. “It’s sweet!”

“Sure, love,” Leah kissed your pout away. You couldn’t help the grin that quickly spread across your face. “You hate the color yellow though,” Leah noted. “There’s no way sunflowers are your favorite.”

You shrugged. “Yellow isn’t that bad. You remind me of the color yellow. Especially since your hair is blonde,” you tucked a strand of blonde hair behind Leah’s ear.

Leah laughed and you scooted closer, your forehead against Leah’s neck. “Every time I see sunflowers, they’re gonna remind me of you.”

“Why?”

“Because even if you fall in love with someone else and curse me into a flower, I’d still be very much in love with you.”

y/n

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Nodding, you give Tobin a rueful smile. “No… Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Tobin gives you a sympathetic look and hands you your phone. “Call her.”

“Do you think she’ll answer?” your tone is full of doubt, you’re scared too, most of all.

“You’ll never know.”

You laugh. It’s funny how you got to this point. Five years later, sitting in your kitchen in your Los Angeles home with your best friend who happens to be your ex’s best friend too. Tobin is sitting in front of you, holding your hand ever so carefully, as if you’re about to break at any moment.

Going back to Tobin’s first question, no. You're not sure you should be doing this at all. But you have to do something. Your epiphany—or your “thank the fucking lord that y/n has finally come to her senses and realize that none of this shit matters anymore” as Tobin would call it, came crashing in one Sunday afternoon.

You weren't expecting it. How were you supposed to know that your life would be turned upside down in the middle of doing the dishes at your teammate’s kid’s birthday party? You would’ve laughed at it all if you didn’t feel a blow to your stomach so hard, knocking all the wind out of you. Through the window you could see your friend, Sydney, face full of smiles and laughter with her husband and her son next to her. They were all happy and the first thing that came to your mind was that you wanted that. And there was only one person you wanted that with.

You felt tears trickle down your face and that was when you started to question the point of it all—all the prestigious football awards and titles, all the fame and fortune. You were well-known, you had houses, apartments, villas all over the world, but what was the fucking point of it all if you didn’t have the love of your life by your side?

You realized that living without Leah wasn’t really living and that was the story of how you broke down in a party full of three year olds.

It wasn’t your greatest day, but it did lead up to this moment.

Taking a deep breath, you take your phone from Tobin’s hand and scroll through your contacts.

my love

With a quiet laugh at how pathetic you are for keeping the contact name, you place the phone to your ear. It keeps on ringing and you’re certain that Leah isn’t going to answer, but the beeping stops and you hear the voice that you haven't heard in years.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” your voice is faint, barely a whisper. “Uh- it’s y/n.”

“I know,” there is a barely audible sigh on the other end. Whether it’s out of annoyance or apprehension, you don't know. A part of you hope it’s a sigh of relief—something that you feel as soon as you hear Leah’s voice. It feels a lot like coming home after years astray. “I still have your number.”

“Right.” you find yourself tongue-tied. You had it all planned out, what you’re going to say and what you’re going to ask, but something stirs up within you at the sound of Leah’s voice.

“Is there a reason you called?”

“Yes. Uhm,” you close her eyes and try to calm yourself down. “I wanted to ask you… if- if it’s okay to…” you look at Tobin helplessly and you find the brunette staring back at you, an encouraging look on her face. Taking a deep breath, “If it’s okay to tell everyone about us.”

There’s a clang on the other end, making you wince. “Are you okay? Leah?”

Leah is still silent, you don't mind waiting. After a minute, Leah finally speaks, “Me? Are you okay? Where did all this come from?”

“Oh,” you feel your cheeks flush. “I did some thinking. I want to tell everyone about you. I’m not expecting anything, don’t worry. I know it’s over between us… But I just- I’m gonna tell everyone about me and you were a big part of me so- I don’t know. I want- Nevermind. This is stupid. Just forget it—”

“Wait, y/n.”

“…Yeah?”

“You’re gonna come out?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

You feel your chest constrict at the sound of Leah’s voice—how dejected she sounds. “Leah… I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? That’s great, y/n,” Leah says. You can now clearly hear the hurt in her voice. “I’m proud of you.” But there’s a hint of pride too and you feel a lump forming in your throat.

How can Leah be proud of you for doing something you should’ve done years ago? Five years ago, to stop Leah from leaving. To stop Leah from thinking that you wouldn’t do anything for her.

“I really am, y/n.” Leah continues. “Don’t beat yourself up that it took you this long. Everyone has their own pace.”

“I know,” you sniffle. “I just wish that I could’ve figured it out sooner- and- and maybe that way I wouldn’t have- have lost you-”

“Hey, hey, y/n,” Leah’s voice is soothing and you find yourself calming down. You’re amazed that Leah’s voice still has the same effect on you. “Don’t think about the ‘what-if’s. You’ll go crazy. Believe me, I know.”

You don't say anything, trying to keep your tears at bay.

“I spent the year after we broke up thinking where we would’ve been if I didn’t walk out that door. If I stayed with you. Maybe you would be sleeping next to me in our home in London. Or Barcelona. Or even Los Angeles, because as much as I didn’t see myself living there, I knew I would’ve sucked it all up ‘cause you love that city so much.”

“Leah…”

“Maybe we would’ve been engaged. Or married. Two kids, just like how we dreamed of, do you remember? We would’ve retired from all of this and you’d have your own football academy and I’d be there to support you through it all. I’d probably be a coach there, teaching all the kids who have the passion to be just like us.”

You laugh, wiping her tears away. “An academy?”

Leah laughs along with you. “You don’t think I know? You stay back after dinner with Dad and Jacob, having discussions with them about what it would take to build your own academy.”

“I was just curious. I’m a high school drop-out, Leah. I’m not smart enough to build my own academy, but I appreciate your belief in me.”

“You’re the smartest person I know.”

It’s silent for a moment and you can hear Leah’s soft breathing. You miss this more than you realize.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“What for?”

“For not hating me, I guess.”

Leah’s laugh is loud and you smile. “I could never hate you. Even when I was deep in my daydreams of the ‘what-if’s and the disbelief of you being gone, I didn’t hate you.”

You sigh. You don't know why this feels a lot like closure. You don't want that. A closure means closing any window of opportunity for the two of you.

“Sometimes… Sometimes two people love each other too much that fate becomes jealous and tears them apart.”

But the more Leah talks, the more you feel the inevitable closure coming.

“You’re my greatest love, y/n l/n. Don’t ever forget it, okay?”

You don’t know if what you feel is relief or misery.

Leah

“I want you, you! I want all of you!”

“You have me!” you replied exasperatedly. “You’ve always had me! What are you talking about?!”

“But you’re a secret! I want you all the time. Not just when no one is around!”

You rubbed a hand over your face. “We’ve talked about this, Leah.”

“But—“

“This,” you gestured widely, your voice cracking with pain. “This is all temporary. We’ve always known from the start. I’ve deluded myself into thinking that we somehow could make it work when all it did was prolong the eventual pain we would endure when we have to break things off.”

Huffing with laughter, Leah’s face was laced with pain. “Glad to know you’re so fucking optimistic about us, y/n.”

“Leah,” your voice was pleading. “I don’t see the point in this if we’re just going to—”

“The point? I love you! Isn’t that fucking enough?! y/n—”

“Leah,” you cut her off. “Leah, I love you too. You know that. But sometimes love isn’t enough.”

“Of course it’s enough!” Tears were streaming down Leah’s face and you had to look away. You couldn’t handle seeing her so helpless and in pain.

“It’s not,” you whispered.

Balling her hands into fists, Leah kept her eyes on you despite you not meeting her eyes. “If you’re so afraid about what people think, we can get out of here for a little while, y/n,” Leah pleaded. She was desperate. “Take a vacation, as long as we like. We could go to Italy, or Spain, heck even somewhere in America. We can be anywhere but here and it’ll be alright.” Leah stood in front of you, her hands coming up to cradle your face. “Please, y/n. We can make it. I know we can. I have faith in us.”

You finally looked at Leah, complete devastation on her face. “Then what, Leah? We tell everyone about us, we leave for a little while, eventually we have to come back to the real world. We can’t escape forever. Once we’re back, we see that our relationship is all that they’ve been talking about. They won’t focus on your football skills, they’ll focus on your love life even when it’s none of their business. I can’t take that away from you.”

Spluttering, Leah looked taken aback. “I- what? I don’t care about all that. We’ll live. It won’t be the end of the world.”

“You’re gonna resent me someday.”

“Why would I resent you? I won’t—”

“You love football!” you interrupted. “It’s your whole world and I’m not going to be the one you let it all go for.”

Leah couldn’t keep the edge out of her voice when she replied. “You’re my world, y/n. And why are you talking as if I have to have one or the other? I can have both! You exist in this world too, y/n.”

“The media will eat us alive.”

“They probably will, but we’ll get through it,” Leah looked determined. Your heart broke all over again. “Together.”

“I’m sorry, Leah.”

“Why does it feel like you’re giving up?!” Leah shouted in despair. “We’ve barely even started. This is our future you’re throwing away! Why are you so afraid?”

“Because I know how it’ll end!”

“No, you don’t! You’re not a psychic, for goodness sake!”

“I do! I swear to god, Leah, I do.”

You had tears in your eyes, Leah could see the fear in them too. But despite the sadness written all over your face, your stance was final. Leah could see it with the way your jaw was clenched, your arms crossed over your chest, a look on your face that appeared whenever you were in an argument. The worst part of it all was that Leah knew that this was your demeanor when you knew you weren't going to lose the argument.

Whatever you were thinking of, it was final. There was no changing your mind.

So Leah took a deep breath and willed herself to walk away. There was no use in fighting for you when she knew you didn’t want her to.

Leah

Leah wakes up with dread filling her chest. She has always been a morning person, but today is different. She knows you'll upload your video today, sometime around 2pm, you had said in your text last night.

So despite it being only 7 a.m., Leah can’t help the anxiousness that’s cursing through her body with the thought that everyone is going to know.

Leah came out a year ago. She didn’t exactly do a grand gesture like what you're about to do; she simply had a picture of her kissing a girl leaked and that was it. She uploaded a selfie on her Instagram page with the caption: yes I do like girls and that was it. Sure, people bothered her, her mentions were a mess, the media vilified her saying that the captain of the Lionesses can’t be gay, but she stopped caring.

The moment she lost the one person who she thought was her soulmate, Leah had a hard time caring about anything anymore.

She still played football, because that was what she loved. But she never cared about how many awards she received or the ranking of her team in the league.

Awards and achievements—they all paled in comparison to having you. You dancing around her kitchen in an oversized t-shirt, you singing in the shower with the door always open because you hated having the door closed for some reason, you cooking her waffles and pancakes for breakfast because you knew Leah preferred both at once, you who were still the most beautiful girl in the world to Leah even after hours and hours of football practice.

Leah sometimes wished she could trade her million-dollar deal with simply having you around.

Pushing these thoughts away, Leah goes about her day. She calls Kiera, then Alex, then Beth—she talks to everyone in hopes of distracting herself of what’s to come.

But it doesn’t work and Leah finds herself staring at her laptop an hour before the clock turns 2. She doesn’t know what to expect. What are you going to say?

When the clock turns 2, Leah refreshes her YouTube page and there it was:

The Truth

y/n l/n • 0 views • 25 seconds ago

Leah takes a deep breath and presses play.

y/n

“Hi everyone. If you’re watching this video that means I am finally brave enough to hit that upload button, and it’s funny because all my life I didn’t think I would let this part of myself be known to the rest of the world.

But here I am. So freaking nervous, but here I am…”

You laugh nervously at the camera. How does one do this? You think of Leah and how she seemed so unbothered in telling everyone that she likes girls. Why was it so hard for you to do the same? Then again, Leah has always been the most confident one out of the two of you. The one who has the mentality that everything will somehow be alright—the optimist. you on the other hand walk with cautious steps, afraid that one wrong move could cause your ground to crumble.

“The question that everyone used to ask me all the time is: are you happy? Are you close to happiness? I didn’t get why. Did it show? How unhappy I was? Maybe…

I wasn’t entirely unhappy. Of course being in Arsenal and living my dream as a footballer makes me happy. The people I’ve met, my friends and family, they all make me happy. But it somehow wasn’t enough, you know? Which is funny because with all the success I have, how can I be unhappy? People would say I was ungrateful and maybe it’s true. Human beings are never satisfied.

Honestly, it’s hard to feel truly happy when all you can feel every waking moment is paranoia and dread. The thought at the back of my head that kept on screaming: someone is going to catch me and that everything I’ve worked my whole life for will fall apart, just like that.

Back then I didn’t realize that playing football wasn’t everything, I didn’t realize that the key for me to be truly happy was in something–or someone–I took for granted. It was funny how I was scrambling to get it all back once I'd lost it.

I thought I was doing what I thought was best when I broke the heart of the person I loved the most in this world. I thought I was setting them free because the burden of an ‘us’ was a lot. I didn’t realize until it was too late that we were never a burden; the world expected too much from us when we owe them nothing.

So with this video, I want to tell everyone that I’m done listening to other people and for once… for once I want to do what makes me happy.

This person isn’t coming back, but telling everyone what I should’ve done back then… I think that it’s a start for me to understand how to be truly happy–and that is to start living for me and no one else.

I don’t want to lie anymore, I don’t want to keep this part of me a secret because it’s who I am. The… the person I’ve been in love with all my life is a woman and her name is Leah Williamson.”

Leah

Leah goes through her day in a daze. She ends up watching half of your video, she doesn’t know why she doesn’t have it in her to finish it. She feels like another second of your teary eyes with face full of anxiousness will cause her to do something stupid like call you up and ask if you’re alright.

Leah forgets how much she craves your voice.

Leah ends up calling Alexia. When her teammate picks up on the first ring, Leah sobs into her phone.

She doesn’t know why she’s crying. It’s been years, she should’ve been over you—and she is. She’s over you. She’s able to go through her day without wondering what you’re doing, able to sleep without having flashes of your memories together when she closes her eyes. So Leah doesn’t know why she’s crying but she figures it’s because there will always be a part of her that’ll stay in love with you.

Her cries stop, and she quickly wipes her tears away. “Sorry, Ale.”

“Hey, it’s okay.”

“I miss her a lot.”

“I know you do.”

“All of this makes me feel like we have a second chance,” Leah quietly confesses. “I don’t like it.”

“Why? You said it yourself, you miss her.”

“I do, but I don’t think a second chance would be good,” Leah sniffles. “I don’t want to go through the process of losing her again. I don’t think I can handle it.”

y/n

“When I first met her I was just immediately in love. Anyone who met her can agree, she was just so charming and charismatic. She's funny, she’s smart and she always says the right things. Who wouldn’t fall in love with her? When I first met her, I didn't think it would be serious. Just a silly crush on a girl I play football with, and I wasn’t stupid, I had no intentions of developing this crush into something more.

But as time went by, I realized that she was the most beautiful person I have ever met and the more she smiled at me and laughed along at my jokes despite how unfunny it was, the more I fell in love with her.

I was so lucky that she loved me too.

And we were together for a long time. We weren’t serious until later on, and we were on and off too. It was pretty damn amazing that we kept it a secret for so long. I can count with my fingers just how many knew about us. None of our family members knew and it was suffocating most times, but it was how it was. I didn’t think I was ready.

I’ve always known at the back of my mind that we will end. We’re public figures, everyone feels entitled to have an opinion about us… I knew that somehow that would cause our relationship to end someday. We were never going to last. Maybe I was pessimistic, but it was the brutal reality we were in.

It killed you, you know. Knowing that something wasn't meant to last. I loved her so much, sometimes I think even more than life itself. It killed me every time that voice ressurfaced in the back of my head, how it kept on repeating that I'll lose her one day.

That has always been the scary part, I think. Knowing that it will happen but not knowing when. But I never lived in the fear of it all falling apart. I savored every moment I had with her, every laugh and every dumb joke she told.

It still broke me, when I did eventually lose her. I didn't leave my apartment for weeks, I was a mess, but I didn’t cry. I didn’t think I was physically able to- I don’t know. I just felt numb. I think a part of me wasn’t allowing myself to cry because I didn’t want it to be real, even though I knew how real it was—I had been preparing for it ever since I knew I was in love with her.

How do you get over someone who you know was the love of your life? Someone you’ll never truly get over. I was so used to having her next to me when I wake up, having her close to me at night when I have nightmares, and suddenly it’s all gone. She’s gone and she’s not coming back, but I have to go on—the world doesn't stop for me.

So I forced myself to put on a smile after a game, forced myself to laugh with the people around me when it felt like my heart was being torn into pieces and it hurt every time I breathe.

That’s my biggest regret, I think. Letting her just walk away like that. Making her think that I love all this… fame more than I love her.

It’s silly ‘cause I’ll never love anything more than I love her.”

Leah

“How do I forget about her, Ale?” Leah digs the heels of her palms into her eye sockets. She doesn’t understand why the tears won’t stop flowing out.

“Bebita… some people you’re just not meant to forget.”

“She hurt me. It would be easier to hate her, but I don’t. I hate that I don’t.” Leah takes a deep breath. “And now she did the thing that I’ve always wanted her to do. Be honest about us. Not caring about what others would think… But she’s years too late. I hate that she’s years too late.”

“She wasn’t ready back then,” Alexia says from the other end. “It would’ve been a disaster if she was forced to do something she didn’t want to do.”

“I know!” Leah exclaims. “I would never force her into anything. I just wish that she could’ve figured it out sooner. Then maybe we’d still be together,” Leah gives a helpless laugh. “I would’ve fucking proposed, Ale. We could’ve been married, I don’t know!”

“Leah… Hermosa, listen to me,” Alexia tries to calm her down. Leah still feels like breaking down. “What did I say about spiraling into scenarios of what could’ve happened? It’s no use. This is how it all turned out. As much as it differs from what you wanted, accept it. I’m sorry that you and her didn’t work out, but you have to accept it.”

“I hate that I still love her. The ‘what could’ve been’ wouldn't hurt this much if I still didn’t love her.”

y/n

“I guess I’ll close this video by saying what I’ve always wanted to say to her. I don’t know if she’ll be watching, and a part of me hopes she’s not because I’m scared. She always scares me, you know? Not so much because of her attitude, but more due to the fact that I have all this love for her inside me that I sometimes get confused on where to put them. I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone this much.

Anyway… Leah.

My Leah. I hope you’re doing okay. The last time I heard your voice was a month ago to tell you about this video, and even through the phone I could hear how happy you are. So that’s good. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

I know it’s been five long years and we’re both different people now, maybe you even have someone new… but sometimes, once in a blue moon, I still have dreams of us and a ‘someday’. Back then I didn't think we’d make it- we couldn't, at least that’s what I kept on telling myself. It all seems so silly now… I know times have changed and that two girls falling in love with each other isn’t the end of the world.

I know this is what you were trying to tell me that night I ruined things for good. You were telling me that we were going to be okay… but I wasn’t listening. I’m sorry. You should know that not fighting for you is the biggest mistake of my life.

But it is what it is, right? This is where we are and maybe we’re just not meant to make it.

Anyway, I don’t want to talk too much. I could go on and on ‘cause I have so much that I want to say to you, but… let me not. I don’t think it’s best to open up old wounds. All you should know is that I love and miss you with every breath I take, and despite everything, you’re still the love of my life. I’ve come to terms that maybe I’m not yours.

You’re always going to be my person, Leah. I’m sorry that all I did was cause you pain. I hope you have someone who brings you nothing but happiness.”

Leah

Despite the voice at the back of her mind telling her that it’s okay—that it’s fine if she wants to send a simple text message to her ex who just came out to the whole world—Leah still thinks it’s a bad idea.

Most of all, she thinks it’s a bad idea because she can’t go back to where she was—that lovesick girl who would do anything for you. Leah can feel her resolve crumbling the more she watches your video. She can feel herself itching to get across the screen of her phone and wrap you up in a hug. She hasn’t felt this way in a long time, or at least when she did, she immediately tucked them away.

The sun comes up and Leah doesn't realize that night-time has come and gone. Staring out the window, Leah sees the sun rise and a memory so bright flashes in her mind. Leah wonders if you like to stare out the sun and think of her.

Leah: I’m proud of you

Leah: just so you know, you made me the happiest I’ve ever been

y/n

London has almost 9 million people and out of all the time in a day, out of all the days in a week, you don't know why you have to be in Trafalgar Square at this exact moment.

Beth is talking next to you, explaining to you why you two should just head over to brunch and ditch the rest of your American friends who are wandering around. You aren't listening to any of it.

You aren't listening because your gaze is fixated on the blonde figure across the street, laughing along with the person next to her. You feel your stomach twist. It’s been a few months since you uploaded your video, which means it’s been a few months since Leah texted you.

Most of all, it’s been five years since you saw Leah in person.

Even from afar, you can see how Leah’s smile is still the same. You can see how Leah’s eyes crinkle in happiness and how Leah’s hand searches for that girl’s hand—just like how Leah used to reach for yours.

It hurts. More than you can admit.

You look away for a brief moment and when you look back, Leah is gone, but the sight of her smile will forever remain in your head.

Despite how you can feel your heart breaking into pieces, you also felt a newfound determination burning in your chest. Leah is the love of your life. You made the mistake of not fighting for her the first time, but you swore you’ll fight tooth and nail when the second time comes around.

Sometime in the future, you two will find your way back to each other. You’re sure of this, because a love like yours just doesn’t disappear into thin air.

In the future, you will proudly call Leah yours, one of you will propose and you’ll get married in New Zealand—just like what you talked about at sixteen with all the innocence in the world.

But for now, you have to learn how to be happy without Leah by your side. It’ll hurt but it’ll be worth it. You’re the sunflower in a dark night, certain that one day your sun will return.

3 years later

“Hi, this is y/n. Sorry I can’t answer the phone right now, but please leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

“Hey, y/n. It’s me. Leah. I got your number from Tobin. Uhm… Listen, I’m in Los Angeles for the weekend, and I still can’t figure out why you love this city so much. I reckon a local tour guide would be a good opportunity to help me try to understand this city and all its hidden beauty better. Uhm, yeah. Let me know if you’re free. My hotel is only a block away from your apartment. Sorry. That sounds creepy. Tobin told me where you live. Uhm. That’s it from me. Yeah. Call me. Or text me, whichever you prefer. …Bye.”

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson imagine #awfc x reader #lionesses x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso community

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beybaldes · 1 year ago

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*･゜ﾟ･* high key just procrastinating my essay but…*･゜ﾟ･*

sejanus plinth as your oblivious bestfriend

- this man is minding his own business too hard, like, doesn’t even take the fact you might like him as more then a friend as an option because he figured if it was, something would’ve happened by now (he’s deathly afraid of rejection)

- literally so happy to spend his entire life doting on you even if it’s just as your best friend

- you will literally walk around the academy holding his hand and press kisses to his cheek or forehead everytime you have to part ways and this man still thinks you’re ‘just friends’

- literally so beyond shocked when Coryo asks if the two of you are together and hits him with ten thousand questions about why he thought that

‘what do you mean, Coryo? Why would you think we’re together?’ Sejanus’s whole face had paled and his sandwich was getting crushed in his hand. What had Coryo seen that he hadn’t? Surely if anyone was going to notice something about you, it would be him, not Coriolanus.

‘they kissed you goodbye, Sejanus.’ Coryo scoffed, eyes rolling at his friends frantic behaviour. ‘And they definitely don’t do that for anyone else.’ Sejanus wanted to ask if Coryo was sure, but he couldn’t get the words out without becoming a stuttering mess. He’d never thought about it that way befriend.

- spends months waiting for you to reach for his hand before he takes initiative and does it for himself the first time, and you totally freak but are super good at hiding it. Sejanus just takes this as he was right you were only being friendly.

- Coryo starts getting more and more sick of it, and finally decided to intervene by concocting a plan that would make even the shyest and sweetest of people (Sejanus) confess

“but I don’t get why.” you stressed, not really understanding coryo’s ‘plan’ that was supposedly going to push you and Sejanus together. it made enough sense but you weren’t sure it would actually help anything, not when you weren’t going to get anywhere when Sejanus only liked you as a friend. “if you want me to kiss you goodbye as well Coryo, you could’ve just asked.”

“it’s not about that, what I’m trying to say-“ Coriolanus didn’t have time to finish his works as he noticed Sejanus coming around the corner and into the corridor the two of you were stood in. “Kiss me, kiss me now, quick.”

more then anything, you wanted to be with Sejanus, and if Coriolanus truly thought this would make that happen, then you were willing to give it a try. Leaning up onto the tips of your toes, you pressed a long kiss to his cheek, making sure Sejanus had seen it before you pulled away. The second your lips left his cheek, he ducked his head and forced a blush to his face, hoping it would make Sejanus jealous enough that he would act on his feelings. However, Sejanus never said a thing, instead giving a pointed glare to Coriolanus and grabbing your hand tightly, pulling you away from the scene of the crime. As you turned to look back at Coryo in confusion, he simply gave you two thumbs up and a wicked grin.

- after Sejanus sees you press a kiss to Coriolanus’s cheek when you’d never done that for anyone else but him, some kind of switch inside of him had flipped

- low-key made him realise he’d never felt like this before and that he definitely saw you as more then just his friend (but had no clue how to go about telling you that)

- so he continued holding your hands and accepting your cheek kisses but now he felt more confident returning them.

“okay, I’ll see you later.” Sejanus had pressed a fleeting kiss to your cheek then turned and left the lunch table without another word, mainly in an effort to hide his flushed face but also incase your reaction was not what he’d predicted.

Coriolanus let out a loud laugh as he looked at the scene before him, your hand ghosting over where he’d just planted a kiss on you and a star struck look in your eyes. “Sejanus just kissed you.”

“Sejanus just kissed me.” You repeated in a far off, airy voice, a bright smile curling on your lips. “Sejanus just kissed me!”

- things only continued to escalate from there

- and since you were now certain he returned your feelings, you knew the only way you’d be able to make him understand was to be completely straight forward with it (because anything otherwise would just go over his head)

- it’s a gloomy, winter, Monday morning when it happens

you march through the doors of the academy, standing tall and proud with the confidence that what you’re about to do is going to give you the one thing you’d only ever dreamed about. it helps that your pretty sure things are going to work out in your favour too.

you walk straight past everyone from you classes, ignoring calls of you name from classmates in search of homework answers and a particularly belligerent Felix Ravenstill, who you’re pretty sure is trying to ask you to be his date for the winter formal. no one mattered right now except Sejanus. But then again, when had they ever? So, you aimed straight for him, not noticing the way Coriolanus seemed to try and ask you something as you approached the two, only taking in Sejanus who turned around to face you with a bright smile and a loving, “Good morning!”

“Good morning.” You replied closing all distance between you as you cradled his face between your hands and brought his lips to yours in a kiss. Sejanus takes a long moment before he begins to reciprocate the kiss, but when he does he drops his note books to the floor in favour of gripping onto your waist and kissing you back harder.

When you finally pull away from him, Sejanus looks totally frazzled - hair mused and lips red, face flushed and a smile so wide that his cheeks hold deeper dimples than usual. “What was that for?” Half the academy is currently staring at the two of you but this time Sejanus doesn’t have the mind to care. “I don’t get-“

“I like you, so, so much.” You tongue darted out across your lips for a fraction of a second but it was enough for Sejanus to find his gaze upon your lips once more. He could lean forward and kiss you once again but he wanted to listen to what you had to say - he figured he’d quite like it. “I want to be yours, if you’ll have me.”

Sejanus doesn’t know the word for it right then and there but it’s love that he feels for you, and that he will feel for you until his very dying breath. “Without a single doubt I am yours.” He answers, leaning in to try and kiss you again, though you pulled away as he moved in trying to meet his eyes. “I already have been for a long time.”

you let him kiss you when he leans in again.

- if Coriolanus had been annoyed by you and Sejanus dancing around eachother, he found himself even more annoyed now that you two were actually together

- somehow more handholding and kisses then before??? and you won’t leave each other alone???

- previously, if you had a class Sejanus didn’t, you’d leave him with a kiss goodbye in the canteen, but now that you were together, Sejanus would spring out of his seat the second he noticed you were grabbing your things, barely saying goodbye to Coryo as he took your hand and offered to walk you to your class

- Coryo was definitely jealous he was third wheeling so much harder then before (though jealous of who, he couldn’t decide) but was glad he didn’t have to deal with the two of you being in denial at least

An: hope you enjoyed!! If even a single person wants me to write Sejanus as your oblivious boyfriend I will <33

#beybaldes hc !!#sejanus plinth oneshot #sejanus plinth imagine #sejanus plinth x reader #tbosbas x reader

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hisui-dreamer · 11 months ago

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trial romance

Pairing: Malleus Draconia x gn!reader

Synopsis: since you were going to be put in an arranged marriage anyways, you decided to let yourself experience a normal teenage romance first!

Tags: fluff, slow burn, rent-a-boyfriend mallesu, mutual pining nrc and sra are mixed schools, reader has an elder brother, reader is royalty

Word count: 2.7k+

Notes: woooh sorry for neglecting you mal mal :( i hope this fic makes up for it hehe

Masterlist

You've never really known love.

Born as the second child of a small, but affluent kingdom, you're not sure you have the right to complain. Each day dawns with the assurance of never experiencing hunger, attended to by countless devoted maids catering to your every whim. It's a life of opulence, one that stands in stark contrast to the struggles endured by those grappling with meager wages just to survive.

Still, there remains an ache within you, a yearning for a love that exists in the enchanting tales of old. A love so untainted that it remains steadfast in any circumstance, a love capable of cleansing away all your sorrows, becoming your very reason of existence.

But such a love seems as distant as the stars. After all, you're bound by the responsibilities as the second princess. Unlike your elder brother who inherits the throne, you are a mere pawn in the intricate game of politics, destined for an arranged marriage rather than a fufiling romance.

In a rare display of benevolence, your father granted you a fleeting taste of freedom, sending you off to live under a false identity at the renowned Royal Sword Academy on Sage Island. Three precious years, promising a respite from the constraints of duty, and you promised to seize each moment and savour the life of a normal person who yearned for love.

Which brings you back to the present moment.

"Jellyfish are such fascinating creatures, don't you think so dear?"

The man stands tall beside you, his golden locks catching the ambient blue glow within the aquarium, lending him an almost ethereal air. His emerald eyes fix upon you, awaiting your response.

You return his gaze, captivated by the way the light dances in his eyes. A soft smile graces your lips as you consider his question.

"They are indeed fascinating," you reply, your voice carrying a hint of admiration. "They move with such grace and fluidity, it's like they're dancing through the water."

He hums at your response, fix focus shifting back onto the creatures drifting in the display.

He's a peculiar man, no doubt. It's puzzling to fathom the sort of individual who would boldly advertise their boyfriend rental services on Magicam. Especially someone as strikingly handsome as he appears to be; you would have assumed he'd have no shortage of admirers or suitors.

But you suppose you're not really any better, the person who hired said rentable boyfriend.

Though you're a bit ashamed to admit, you harbor a certain discomfort when it comes to meeting new people. And with your identity as a merchant's daughter, you've had few interactions with your schoolmates, leaving you with a shortage of friends, let alone a romantic relationship.

It was in then that you stumbled upon his listing.

And now, here you are, on your first ever date, exploring an aquarium together.

"Do you mind telling me what dates you're free?" you ask casually as you stroll towards the tropical section, bathed in the vivid hues of exotic marine life.

He trails alongside you, his presence exuding an air of calmness. "Dates...?" he muses, his tone tinged with intrigue. "Ah, you wish to see me another time, I presume?"

You cast your gaze downwards, a hint of bashfulness coloring your cheeks. "Yes... I would like that."

He contemplates for a moment, a hint of concern crossing his features. "Hmm... My fees are quite high you see. Your finances may suffer if you spend too much time with me."

"Hmph. You don't have to be concerned. This money has nowhere else to go anyways," you scoff.

His gaze lingers on you with a hint of curiosity, before a gentle warmth softens his features as he nods. "Very well," he murmurs, his hand reaching out to envelop yours in a tender clasp. With a delicate gesture, he presses a fleeting kiss upon the back of your hand, his voice resonating with anticipation, "I look forward to seeing you more often, my dear."

Aquarium Date ✅

First Date ✅

"You seem quite troubled by this book. Is something the matter?" Mal asked, peering over the edge of his book, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

He sat across from you, textbooks and notebooks scattered between you, each page turned with a quiet reverence. The library was bathed in a soft glow, the gentle hum of whispers filling the air like a comforting melody.

You glanced up from your own notes, running a hand through your hair in a gesture of resignation. "I have a test coming up for Magic Analysis, but I always get so overwhelmed with information I forget the details."

"Magic Analysis... Perhaps you're approaching it from the wrong angle," Mal suggested, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "What if we break it down into smaller, more manageable chunks? We could create a study plan together."

The idea sparked a glimmer of hope within you, the prospect of tackling the daunting material with a structured approach feeling suddenly within reach. "That... actually sounds like a good idea," you admitted, a tentative smile forming on your lips.

"Alright," Mal began, his eyes alight with enthusiasm. "Shall I give you a demonstration?"

There's something to his smile that worries you slightly.

Study Date ✅

The quaint café bustled with life, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the sweet scent of pastries.

Mal's eyes sparkled curiously as he scanned the menu, his fingers tracing the various options with keen interest. "This place is quite charming," he remarked.

You smiled, a flutter of warmth blooming in your chest at his appreciation. "I'm glad you like it. I heard it's one of the best spots in town. Have you decided what to order?"

His brows furrow lightly. "I'm not sure... They all look quite enticing..."

"How about a parfait then? You can choose different flavours of ice cream too," you suggested, gesturing to the other page.

Malleus's gaze followed your gesture, his eyes alight with anticipation. "Ice cream, you say? That sounds delightful," he replied, a spark of childlike excitement dancing in his expression.

You couldn't help but mirror that smile.

Cute Cafe Date ✅

The night stretched out before you like an endless canvas, painted with a myriad of twinkling stars scattered across the indigo sky. Cradled in the comforting embrace of a soft blanket spread out on the grass, you lay your head gently upon Mal's shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath as you gaze upwards.

"It's breathtaking..." you murmur softly, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the tranquil stillness of the night.

His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining in a silent gesture of affection. "The sight never fails to captivate me," he responds, his voice tinged with awe. "I'm often reminded of how quickly time passes when I stargaze."

Lifting your head slightly, you steal a glimpse of his face, illuminated by the ethereal glow of the night sky. "Ah... Fae are known for their longevity, aren't they?" you remark, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of his blonde hair behind his pointed ears. "Is that part of the reason why you became a rentable boyfriend?"

He smiles ruefully. "Partly so," he admits. "My mentor suggested it as a means of broadening my perspective and gaining new experiences.

A giggle escapes your lips. What's with that? To think you're doing this for educational purposes..." you tease, though the chill of reality briefly brushes against your thoughts. "I hope you've at least had fun?"

"Absolutely." He envelops both of your hands in his own, his gaze unwaveringly earnest as it locks onto yours. "My dear, I've thoroughly enjoyed every second spent with you,"

A blush tinges your cheeks at his sincerity, and you respond softly, "It's the same for me. I had so much fun when I was with you,"

You find yourself ensnared by the ethereal presence of the man before you, his proximity stirring a flurry of emotions within you. His face, mere inches from your own, is illuminated by the soft glow of the twinkling stars, their light mirrored in the depths of his serene emerald eyes. Your heart quickens its pace, thumping so loudly in your chest that it threatens to drown out his next words.

"...Can I kiss you?"

You feel yourself nod slightly.

He tentatively closes the distance between you, his movements deliberate yet achingly tender. His hand, warm and reassuring, cups your cheek, his touch sending shivers of electricity dancing across your skin. The scent of night blossoms and distant pine trees fills your senses, mingling with the heady anticipation swirling in the air.

The kiss is tender at first, a tentative exploration of each other, as if testing the waters of this newfound intimacy. But soon, a surge of desire courses through you, fueling the passion that blooms between you. You lose yourself in the moment, surrendering to the intoxicating whirlwind of emotions that sweeps you away, leaving you breathless and utterly consumed by him.

The sequence of events that followed remains a hazy blur in your memory, the details shrouded in a fog of uncertainty. All you recall with clarity is Mal's familiar presence beside you as he walked you back to the imposing gates of your school hand-in-hand, just as he'd always done.

Just like clockwork, you retrieved a thick envelope from the depths of your bag, its contents weighing heavily on your mind. "Hold this," you instructed quietly.

He stared curiously at your actions. With a practiced fluidity, you extracted a handful of bills from your wallet.. With unwavering composure, you extended the money towards him, your tone devoid of sentimentality. "This is the bonus for kissing," pressing the bills into his palm.

Leaning forward on tiptoes, you planted a chaste farewell kiss upon his cheek, the gesture a stark contrast to the emotionless exchange that had just transpired. "See you next time," you murmured, before turning away.

Each clack of your heels against the pavement resonated within him like a mournful toll, echoing the hollowness that had taken root in his chest. He watched, transfixed, as the last sliver of your silhouette dissolved into the far distance, the bittersweet echoes of your footsteps fading into the twilight.

Dark, menacing clouds stretched ominously across the vast expanse of the sky, casting an eerie pall over the landscape below. Before you realised it, raindrops cascaded from the heavens in a frensied blur.

Stargazing Date✅

First Kiss ✅

The evening air was cool as he led you through the labyrinthine streets of the old city, the cobblestones whispering tales of centuries past beneath your feet. Towering above you, ancient buildings adorned with weathered stone facades loomed like silent sentinels guarding the secrets of bygone eras.

"This way," he beckoned, his voice tinged with excitement as he pulled you along into a narrow alleyway veiled in shadows.

With eager steps, you followed his lead, anticipation coursing through your veins as you delved deeper into the heart of the historic district.

"You know," you mused, breaking the silence as you walked, "when I said you could choose our next date, I never imagined it would involve a trip to the City of Flowers. Have you been here before?"

"I have," he answered. "I was invited here once. There was a magnificent festival here, but I was more interested in the gargoyles."

"The... gargoyles?" you echoed, casting an intrigued glance at the statues that adorned the buildings around you. "There do seem to be quite a few of them."

"They've watched over these buildings for centuries, warding off evil spirits and protecting those within."

"Really? That sounds fascinating," you murmured. "Would you mind telling me more?"

A smile graced his lips, his eyes gleaming with a unbridled glee. "Gladly," he agreed, his voice reverent. "Each one has a story to tell, waiting to be heard by those who seek to listen."

You listened intently as he recounted the legends surrounding these ancient sentinels, his words weaving a captivating narrative that transported you through time. As you continued your exploration of the historic buildings, he regaled you with tales of the city's storied past, his words painting vivid pictures of times long gone.

Somewhere along the line, night had descended like a comforting shroud, cloaking the city in a blanket of darkness. Now, you found yourselves strolling along the tranquil riverbank, the rhythmic lapping of the waves providing a soothing cadence to your thoughts.

Your three years of time is almost up.

Soon, you'd be back in the confines of your childhood room, the familiar walls suffocating with the promise of the same, predictable routine. Then, like a ship launched by an unforgiving wind, you'd be whisked away to wed the spouse your father had chosen, leaving behind your fleeting moments of freedom and the memories far away in your teenage years.

Mal glances sideways at you, noting the unusual quiet that had settled upon you like a shadow. "Is everything alright, my dear?" he inquires, his voice laced with concern.

You pause, grappling with the weight of your impending confession, searching for the right words to convey your thoughts. Finally, you draw in a deep breath, steeling yourself for the revelation to come.

"No... It's not," you confess, your voice faltering slightly as you let go of his hand. "Mal, this... this will be the last time I'm hiring you."

Confusion furrows his brow as he searches your eyes for clarity. "But... why?" he responds, a note of sadness creeping into his tone.

"Because..." you begin, your gaze drifting towards the glistening surface of the river, unable to withstand his earnest gaze. "Because I'm leaving Sage Island. I'll be graduating and returning home, and... and I won't require your services anymore."

"I... see."

A heavy silence descends between you, the weight of your confession hanging in the air like a tangible presence. And as you continued your stroll along the riverbank, the knowledge that this would be your final night together lingered like a bittersweet farewell to the memories you had shared.

His Choice Date ✅

Breakup ✅

You've never liked riding in carriages.

With each clop of the horses' hooves, the entire contraption lurched, sending shivers skittering up your spine. It was a waltz of unease, the sway and groan of leather and wood a discordant melody against the cobblestone streets.

The confines of the cramped cabin also felt suffocating, a gilded cage that further severed your connection to your freedom. But the carriage rolled on, carrying you not just through the mountainous terrain, but towards a future you desperately wished to outrun.

Malleus Draconia was your spouse-to-be.

Throughout your school days, whispers of the famed fae prince from Night Raven College echoed in the halls. Tales spun of his unmatched prowess in Spelldrive, where he emerged victorious alone against all teams, his formidable magical abilities casting a long shadow of fear over his opponents. His towering and menacing presence, coupled with the dark horns that crowned his head, only added to the mystique that surrounded him. You could only hope that beneath this formidable exterior lay a heart capable of kindness, granting you the chance for a peaceful existence.

Though, you wouldn't say you could forgive him for having such a similar name to Mal.

As the carriage comes to a halt, the sound of hooves and wheels ceases, accompanied by a palpable sense of anticipation. With the opening of the carriage door, your guards stand at attention, their expressions solemn yet resolute. "Your Highness, we have arrived," one of them announces, his voice carrying the weight of the moment.

With a deep breath, you gather your resolve, steeling yourself for the encounter that awaits beyond the carriage doors.

Just as your foot grazes the carriage step, a gloved hand extends towards you, reaching out towards you with a graceful assurance.. You glance up to meet the gaze of your betrothed, and for a moment, time seems to stand still.

His eyes are a familiar shade of emerald green. A shade that's grown to be your favourite, in fact.

"M-Mal?" you stammer, the name escaping your lips before you can stop it.

"It's lovely to see you again, my dear," he smiles, as radiant as the sun.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#lilia definitely saw what teens were doing and asked malleus to become a rentable bf #“good learning experiences” he just wanted mal to meet more ppl and hopefully fall in love #and fell he did :)#he helps mal to disguise hiss identity by making his hair blond and his horns temporarily invisible #but his eyes remain the same #since eyes are the windows to your soul hehe #if ppl like this fic i might write a short bonus where it's lilia lecturing mal how to act like a good boyfriend hahaha #twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst imagines #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #twisted wonderland malleus #twst malleus #twst malleus x reader

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adrian-sheppy · 10 months ago

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for star trek au. want to make more . we wll see. . info dump under cut. its a bit disjointed

this whole au endevour has had me reading all the wikis for andorians. like “transgender” on andoria would be a blanket term because of the four named “canon” sexes (and the unnamed sexes that would fall “between” these!. and who knows how many genders.) i'm not gonna get into it here . there's a lot to say .

andorians are militant and family oriented. child rearing is very important. they suffer near constant population issues; one cause is that they need four people to have one kid. andorians are traditionally polyamorous and pansexual but they wouldnt use these terms . barney cant cut it in an andorian polycule so barney dating one guy (WHO IS VULCAN!!!) and neither of them wanting kids = traditional andorians instantly dislike him. guy with the biggest target on his back. joined star fleet so people back home would stop eviscerating him. like now when barney loses an antenna he is treated nicely instead of being roasted until it grows back! so cool . andorians in star fleet would be more accepting of untraditional andorian relationships . i.e jennifer lower decks . but gordons a vulcan so thats gonna cause some issues also...

...dont get me started on gordon's relationship with Vulcans and how they would treat him... like NO ONE talks about sybok outside of final frontier (i think he was mentioned in snw ?) not even in DISCO where the s'chn t'gai family is a FUCKING FOCAL POINT. they pretend he doens't exist because vulcans put things into boxes and rationalize them away . and when they cant? dont acknowledge it. call it irrational and move on... and then in comes gordon (number one hater of the vulcan science academy btw) and he cant regulate his emotions like the majority of vulcans can. he makes many vulcans uncomfortable by just EXISTING. its like the prejudice spock has to deal with but times 100x because he CANT keep his cool. it's used to discredit him and to question his vulcan heritage . and its called a “defect” primarily by vulcan doctors. his brain is just more similar to a humans than a vulcans. its a congenital disorder by vulcan standards.

they were both dealt shit cards and born into a culture that doesn't work for them (or gordon finds out later about said culture and see it has no room for him), so waht do? escape to the stars. misfits congregate in star fleet. and barney runs hot like the vulcan deserts and gordon runs cold like the ice moon of andoria and in eachothers arms they are at home and accepted for being the outcasted assholes that they are . . . . . ... and gordon is a chocoholic. love wins.

#my next question is does pansexual include alien fucking or is alien fucking its own like. thing. that you add on a preexisting sexuality #star trek canon writers are afraid to answer our burning questions #freeman's mind #freemind #gordon freemind #barney's mind #barmey calhoun #buttermind #mindverse #mindverse star trek au

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zerun0 · 2 months ago

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"The Colors of Us" — Viktor x Y/N (Gender-Neutral)

And this is my third story on the universe of Arcane !

English is not my first language. Feel free to comment on any of my mistakes and i will update the post, also I more than happy to receive suggestions, and advice on how to improve my work.

Heavily inspired by — "What happens in the bathhouse... " by LinkyDinks —

— ! WARNING NSFW (+18): ! — Established relationship, sexual themes, Flirting, Hot tub, Teasing, Masturbation. — Word count: — 2,9k (Full uncut version on AO3)

Piltover was a city of progress. Tall spires of metal and glass soared above, glittering with the promises of science and invention. Airships cut through the sky like graceful birds, and beneath their flight, the streets bustled with a mix of inventors, artisans, and scholars from the prestigious Piltover Academy. Among them was Y/N, an artist, seeking to find their place in the city of progress through the lens of creativity, which often felt out of step with the methodical precision Piltover demanded.

Art was Y/N’s form of rebellion, a splash of chaos in a place where everything had its place and function. Though some in the Academy dismissed their work as frivolous, others—like Viktor—saw the genius in it. Viktor, with his brilliant mind and soul shaped by invention, had always been a reserved but sharp-eyed companion. To Y/N, he was more than just an intellectual ally; he was a kindred spirit, even if they expressed their gifts in drastically different ways.

It was rare that Viktor took time away from his work, so when Y/N invited him out for a quiet evening in the upper levels of Piltover, it was a surprising to see the tired one accept it.

"Just one night,” Viktor had said in his soft, accented voice. “I think... I could... we, we both could use a break.”

— Small time skip: Around 7:24 pm —

As they walked together beneath the glittering streetlamps of Piltover’s wealthiest district, the air crackled with the shared energy of anticipation.

"The Grand Hotel" was nothing short of breathtaking. It stood tall, adorned with the finest Piltover could offer—gilded archways, lush tapestries that draped the walls like fine paintings, and crystal chandeliers that gleamed in warm golden hues. For an artist, it was almost overwhelming, the richness of it all. But it also held the charm of something fleeting, a place far removed from the gritty streets and the cold laboratories.

“Quite the place, isn’t it?” Y/N mused as they entered the lavish lobby, stealing a glance at Viktor. He looked as composed as ever, his face framed by his dark brown hair, the glow of the dim lights making the sharp lines of his features seem even more striking.

He gave a rare, almost shy smile. “It is… a bit excessive. But I thought perhaps it would make for a change of pace.”

They made their way to the front desk, where a young attendant greeted them with impeccable manners and a smile polished like the marble floors. After a quick exchange of pleasantries, they were handed a key.

“Your suite is on the top floor,” the attendant said, bowing slightly.

Y/N’s had mentioned nothing about staying at a hotel, much less in a suite. Viktor's curiosity piqued. It wasn’t like him to indulge in luxuries like this. His usual quarters were cramped and bare, filled only with his inventions and research papers. Still, Viktor followed without complaint, knowing Y/N’s always had their reasons.

The elevator ride was swift and silent, taking them to the topmost floor, where their suite awaited.

The room itself was a masterpiece of elegance, but Y/N’s eyes were immediately drawn to the massive window that stretched across one wall, revealing a panoramic view of Piltover at night. The city’s lights glittered like stars, reflecting off the calm waters of the river far below.

“Wow,” Y/N breathed, walking toward the window, captivated by the beauty of it all.

Viktor followed a few steps behind, his cane tapping gently against the marble floor. He stood beside them, his golden-brown eyes quietly taking in the view, though Y/N suspected his thoughts were far away, perhaps on some new invention or scientific discovery. Still, there was a certain calmness about him tonight, a softness that made Y/N’s heart flutter.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Viktor said, turning to face them. “I didn’t realize you knew such places existed.”

His tone was light, but there was something deeper in his gaze as he looked at Y/N. Something unspoken, but undeniably present.

After a shared dinner in the suite’s private dining area—a delicious meal accompanied by wine neither of them usually had time to enjoy—Viktor excused himself for a moment. Y/N took the opportunity to wander the room a bit more, letting their fingers trail along the silk sheets and finely crafted furniture. A door to the side caught their attention, and they opened it to reveal a luxurious bathroom.

And at its center, a large, marble hot tub.

Y/N's eyes widened. It was set in an alcove surrounded by lush plants, steam already rising from the warm water. It looked like something out of a dream, a place meant for relaxation, indulgence, and... something more.

A soft knock on the doorframe pulled Y/N from their thoughts. Viktor stood there, his jacket now discarded, leaving him in a simple shirt and trousers. His eyes flickered toward the hot tub, and a faint blush crept up his neck.

There was a silence... then Y/N spoke — “Would you like to join me?” Y/N asked softly, stepping closer.

Viktor hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “A-are you sure?”

"I would be more than happy" — Y/N said, their hand fixing a strand of hair in Viktor's face, you had flirted before, but you felt bold and courageous today.

Y/N started to undress as they watched Viktor's face turn red, the scientist tried to avoid looking upon their bare, naked body. But a few curious glances found their way towards Y/N, as they turned and approached the hot tub.

The warmth of the water was immediate, soothing, and Y/N felt their body relax as they sank into it. The soft glow of candlelight illuminated the room, casting long shadows that danced across the marble tiles. — "Now... will you join me, handsome?"

Viktor hesitated, red, and stuttering for his dear life, as he could not think straight. But soon nervously removed his clothes as if his desire took control of his movements. — Then followed them in, moving carefully due to his bad leg. Once he was settled, a small sigh escaped him as the heat worked its way through his tense muscles and pounding heart.

For a while, they sat in comfortable silence, the only sound the gentle ripple of water and the soft crackle of the candles. Viktor leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, his eyes closed, and Y/N couldn’t help but watch him. He looked different like this—vulnerable, almost human in a way that the world often didn’t allow him to be.

Y/N’s fingers twitched. They had an overwhelming desire to touch him, to capture this moment not with paint, but with their hands. And so, without thinking too much, they shifted closer, their hand brushing against Viktor’s.

His eyes fluttered open at the contact, a question in them, but Y/N merely smiled. Slowly, cautiously, Y/N raised a hand to cup Viktor’s jaw, their thumb grazing the line of his cheek.

“You’ve been tense,” Y/N whispered. “I can feel it.”

Viktor didn’t pull away. Instead, he tilted his head ever so slightly, leaning into the touch. It was as if he were starved for it, for that gentle connection, though he rarely allowed himself such indulgences.

“It’s difficult not to-o be,” he replied, his voice soft yet so nervous. “But with you… it is e-easier.”

Y/N’s heart swelled at the admission. They shifted even closer, so that their knees brushed under the water, the steam swirling around them like a veil. They could see the faint rise and fall of Viktor’s chest, his breaths a little shallower now. Under water an clear erection as he looked to Y/N eyes.

“Let me help you relax..” Y/N murmured, their voice low and intimate.

Viktor swallowed, his throat bobbing under Y/N’s hand. He didn’t protest, didn’t resist, and that was all the permission Y/N needed.

With slow, deliberate movements, Y/N slid their hands over Viktor’s shoulders, feeling the tension there, the strain of years spent hunched over workbenches and machines. They began to massage the knots from his muscles, fingers working with gentle pressure all the way down to his most intimate areas, holding it gently and seductively. Viktor’s breath hitched slightly at first, but then he let out a soft exhale, his body slowly melting under their touch.

“Y/N,” Viktor whispered, his voice a little ragged now, filled with something more than just gratitude. It was want, need—things he rarely expressed, but that Y/N could feel in the way his body responded to their touch.

Y/N leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Viktor’s jaw, just below his ear. They felt him shiver, though the water was still warm. The heat between them was palpable now, a simmering tension that neither of them seemed eager to break.

Viktor’s hand came up then, tentative at first, but soon firm, resting on Y/N’s hip beneath the water. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if he were afraid to break the spell between them. But Y/N welcomed it, their body responding instinctively, leaning into his touch, as they continued to masturbate the shy one.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were their soft breaths and the faint lapping of water against the sides of the tub.

Then Viktor’s lips found Y/N’s, tentative at first, his breath shaky with uncertainty. He was gentle, almost hesitant, as if testing the waters of a world he rarely allowed himself to enter. But the warmth of Y/N’s touch, the reassurance in their closeness, softened his reservations. Y/N responded with equal tenderness, their lips moving against his with a quiet, unhurried rhythm, savoring the moment.

Viktor’s hand, trembling slightly, found its way to Y/N’s waist beneath the water. His touch was tentative, but there was a quiet intensity to it, his fingers curling around their side as if anchoring himself. For a moment, he stopped their partner's hand from touching their intimacy, afraid to break too early. His forehead resting against theirs as they both caught their breath, the silence between them thick with anticipation.

“You don’t have to hold back,” Y/N murmured against his lips, their fingers tracing the edge of his collarbone. “Not with me.”

The next kiss was different. It was still soft, still careful, but there was a need behind it now, a slow-burning intensity that hadn’t been there before. Viktor’s hand, once hesitant, moved with more confidence, sliding up from their waist to the small of their back, pulling them closer as his lips parted, deepening the kiss. Y/N responded in kind, their arms wrapping around his neck, fingers threading through the damp strands of his hair as they pressed their bodies closer under the water.

Y/N could feel his restraint slipping, the careful control he usually held onto crumbling as their hands moved over him, as their lips met again and again in a heated, desperate rhythm. Viktor’s hands slid lower, his fingers tracing patterns on their back, their waist, the feel of his touch sending shivers through Y/N.

Their hands roamed over each other, exploring, searching, the water lapping gently around them as they moved. Viktor’s hand slipped under the water, resting on Y/N’s thigh, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through them. Y/N gasped softly against his lips, their own hands moving to mirror his touch, fingers brushing over the sensitive skin of his hips.

Viktor groaned softly, the sound low and desperate, and it only spurred Y/N on, their touches becoming bolder, more confident.

“I’ve-e wanted th-h-his… for so long,” Viktor murmured against their lips, his voice barely more than a whisper, filled with a vulnerability that made Y/N’s heart ache.

Y/N kissed him deeply, their hands cupping his face, their thumbs brushing his cheeks as they whispered back, “Me too, Viktor.”

For a moment, everything else faded away. There was no Piltover, no Academy, no responsibilities or pressures. There was only them, tangled together in the warm water, their lips and hands exploring, their hearts pounding in unison. It was slow, it was heated, and it was perfect—two souls finding solace in each other, in the quiet spaces between invention and creation.

Now, there was simply Y/N on the skinny scientist member, their touch subtle and gentle, as they did their best to drive Viktor into their release with rhythmic movements ... up... and down, like they painted a masterpiece of pleasure.

And then, with a quiet gasp, Viktor’s body tensed, his grip on Y/N tightening as he reached the edge, his breath catching in his throat as the tension finally broke, as he allowed himself to cum, as all his fluids mixed with the water.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Viktor allowed himself to relax completely. His head rested against Y/N’s, his lips barely brushing their neck as he let out a soft, contented sigh. The vulnerability of the moment settled between them, and Y/N could feel the quiet gratitude in the way Viktor held onto them, the way he let himself simply be there, with no pressure, no expectations—just them.

They pressed a soft kiss to his temple, letting their lips linger there for a moment before they whispered, "Viktor… maybe we should get out of here."

He stirred slightly at the sound of their voice, blinking slowly as if coming back to the present. His cheeks flushed, not just from the heat of the tub but from the lingering embarrassment that seemed to settle in the air now that the moment had passed. Viktor shifted against Y/N, his body weak from both exhaustion and the vulnerability of the night.

“I… yes,” he murmured, though his voice was soft, almost hesitant. His hand, still resting gently on Y/N’s side, trembled ever so slightly. “I think that… would be wise.”

Viktor sat up a little, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided Y/N’s gaze, his usual reserved demeanor slipping back into place, though there was still a softness in his expression

Y/N stood, the cool air hitting their skin as they stepped out of the tub, offering Viktor a hand to help him up. He hesitated for a moment, his golden-brown eyes flicking up to meet theirs with a hint of sheepishness, before taking their hand. His legs felt unsteady as he rose, and Y/N could feel the slight tremble in his grip as he steadied himself.

Once they were both out, Y/N handed Viktor a towel, watching as he carefully dried himself off, still avoiding eye contact. His cheeks were still flushed, and Y/N could see the faint quirk of a shy smile on his lips, though he did his best to hide it.

“Are you okay?” Y/N asked softly, stepping closer and resting a gentle hand on his arm.

Viktor nodded, though he let out a soft, self-deprecating chuckle. “I am… perhaps a bit more tired than I anticipated.” His voice was quiet, a little breathless, and Y/N could tell he was still processing everything that had just happened.

“Then let’s get you to bed,” Y/N said with a warm smile, their hand sliding down to lace their fingers through his, giving him a reassuring squeeze. Viktor’s eyes met theirs for a brief moment, and he nodded, clearly relieved by the suggestion.

Together, they made their way to the bed in the center of the room, the sheets looking impossibly inviting after the intense heat of the hot tub. Viktor sat down on the edge first, his shoulders slumped slightly, as if the weight of his usual stoicism had been lifted, leaving only the exhaustion of the night.

Y/N slid in beside him, wrapping their arms around him from behind, pulling him gently into a soft embrace. Viktor leaned into their touch, his body instinctively relaxing against theirs. The tension that had built up over so many years, in both his work and his emotions, seemed to melt away in the quiet safety of Y/N’s arms.

He let out a soft, almost contented sigh, his head resting back against Y/N’s shoulder. “I… I never thought I would feel this… close to someone,” Viktor admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, the vulnerability in his words cutting through the air like a confession.

Y/N pressed a gentle kiss to the back of his neck, holding him tighter. “You deserve this, Viktor. You deserve to be cared for, to have someone by your side.”

He smiled weakly, his eyes fluttering closed as he leaned more fully into their embrace, his exhaustion catching up with him. “Perhaps,” he whispered, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “But I… I do not know what I would do without you.”

“You won’t have to find out,” Y/N whispered softly, their hands tracing light circles on his chest as they cuddled closer. “I’m not going anywhere.”

#viktor #viktor x reader #viktor arcane #arcane fanfic #smut

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discoscoob · 2 months ago

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⋆⭒˚.⋆ PHANTOM

˙ ✩°˖📀⋆｡˚ Tom Ludlow x Hacker!Reader x Neo Anderson

VOLUME 002

CW: fem!reader x mystery keanuverse character

Synopsis: You reconnect with an old college flame amidst the chaos of the cyberattack and navigate a web of suspicion and danger while trying to hide your involvement. 3.6k words.

˙ ✩°˖📀⋆｡˚

CHICAGO CITY POLICE STATION, 8:56 A.M.

“So, what’s a guy gotta do to get a bit of cooperation ‘round here?”

The familiar voice ripples through the air with a wave of nostalgia but is quickly swallowed by the rising tide of chaos. A torrent of voices swell and crash, merging with the static-laden chatter of the police radios into an unintelligible roar; only the occasional shout manages to surface before being swept away by the hectic current. The shrill cry of an unanswered phone cuts through, sharp and relentless, echoing like a buoy’s bell lost in a storm. Beneath the harsh fluorescent glare, officers wade through a sea of desks drowning under piles of manila files, while the faint smell of burnt coffee lingers in the air.

Special Agent Utah rests casually against your desk, transporting you back to your college days, when he was Johnny, the star quarterback at Ohio State and you were the awkward computer nerd that somehow got pulled into his orbit. Even amidst the whirlwind of chaos surrounding you, it’s impossible to resist gazing at the outline of his body and admiring how snuggly his fitted trousers hug his firm rear. Back then, your cheeks would’ve turned a blazing shade of red if he caught you staring, now the flash of his lopsided grin only encourages you.

“I thought you were avoiding me.” you disguise genuine doubt with a playful lilt. You had wondered if he even remembered you when he stepped into the department this morning. That scorching summer of your final term was etched into your memory, while for him, it might be a chapter he looks back on with reluctance.

Your paths should have never crossed. You were a solitary creature, usually found nestled behind a flickering screen in the campus library, while Johnny was out on the field making touchdowns, racing towards a promising future lit by stadium lights and roaring crowds. But then it all came crashing down on a buckled knee that shattered his aspirations. The future he had mapped out was ripped to shreds, and suddenly, he was stranded. All he knew was that he had to get good grades if he wanted to get anywhere. He needed a tutor and that’s where you came in.

What started out as awkward tutoring sessions gradually blossomed into something else, filled with stolen glances over textbooks and late-night talks that had nothing to do with what was on the syllabus. The memory of him leaning against your dorm room door frame, flashing that lopsided grin, flickers in the back of your mind like an old film reel. At the time, Johnny was nursing a broken heart too — his high school sweetheart had lost interest the moment his future in football vanished. But when he was with you, the weight of his frustrations seemed to melt away, and before long he started stopping by your dorm for reasons that had nothing to do with his grades.

By the time the leaves started to fall and a mellow breeze swept away the heat of summer, you parted ways without any hard feelings, knowing life was pulling you in different directions. Johnny set his sights on Quantico, chasing new dreams with the FBI Academy, while you were bound for Chicago. You shared a fleeting summer romance and left with the lingering memories that you keep tucked away like an old photograph.

“Avoiding you? Come on, Y/N, you know I always save the best for last.” that cocky smirk you remember all too well plays on his lips, as charming as ever, blasting away any lingering doubts. Even now your traitorous heart falls victim and thumps wildly in your chest at the sight.

“I’m last? Already?” you glance at your watch, genuinely surprised he managed to work his way through the whole department in just a couple hours.

“Yeah, they’re not a very talkative bunch.” Johnny’s frustration over the department's lack of cooperation sours his smirk into an irritated frown.

“You’d think they have something to hide.” you answer in a conspiratorial tone, referring to the cold shoulder he’s been getting all morning.

“Do they?” he asks, like any investigator instinctively would. His voice is warm with curiosity as he casually leans closer, folding his toned arms across his chest, his rolled shirt sleeves reveal sun-kissed forearms — evidence of his time spent under the Californian sun. So distractingly gorgeous, the sight stirs memories of his touch, warm and tender, on those hot summer nights. It’s almost dangerous. You hate to admit it, but you practically have to gulp back the urge to reveal all your secrets at once.

“That’s your job to find out, Agent Utah.” you tease, as tight-lipped as the rest of the department.

When the playful warmth fades from Johnny’s rousing gaze, clouding with the chill of something bitter, you assume you have disappointed him with your lack of cooperation — until you realise he is looking over your shoulder.

Following his gaze, you glance behind you. Detective Ludlow stands rigid, glaring as he watches Johnny casually lounge against your desk like he owns the place, talking to you with the familiarity of someone stopping by for a social call. The click of a stapler somewhere nearby punctuates the sudden heaviness in the air, and you can almost feel the tension sharpening around the three of you.

“Ludlow… right?” Johnny controls his features, offering Tom a curt nod as he pushes himself off your desk and slips his hands into his pockets. “I’m Special Agent Utah—”

“So the Bureau sent over a rookie to meddle in my investigation.” Tom’s sharp tone cuts through the hectic bustle of the station, scrutinising Johnny’s youthful appearance with a critical glare.

“I’m just here to help, Detective. Without cooperation you’re only going to make both our jobs a lot harder.” Johnny diplomatically responds over the steady hum of voices.

“You might need my help but I sure as hell don’t need yours. I’ve got this under control.”

“Really?” Johnny cocks his head, his tone laced with condescension. “‘Cause from where I’m standing it sure doesn’t seem like it.”

“I don’t need some fresh-faced Fed, who thinks he’s some big hotshot, telling me how to do my job. I was taking down bad guys when you were still wetting the bed.” Tom steps towards Johnny, his tone sharp with a rumbling edge. You blink, observing the hostile exchange from your desk chair, wondering if you should intervene.

“Yeah, I bet you were taking down bad guys left and right back in the day, old timer,” Johnny barely flinches when Tom looms closer, “but that was a long time ago and from the stench, it seems like the only thing you’re taking down these days is shots.”

Tom swallows thickly, struggling to bounce back from the impact of the brutal truth in Johnny’s stern words. Reluctantly, he retreats, his gaze flickers briefly in your direction, you catch a fleeting glimpse of the sorrow and torment whirling behind his hollow stare before it falls shamefully to the floor.

That brief glimpse triggers a pang in your chest you weren’t prepared for. Truth be told, Tom Ludlow intrigues you. You’ve heard whispers around the precinct about his past, how his wife died three years ago — before you ever set foot in the department. You never knew the man he was before everything fell apart. Sometimes, you try to imagine a man who’s not weighed down so heavily by his grief, not so hardened and bitter, not ensnared by his demons. You often wonder if that man still exists, buried somewhere deep inside him beneath the sorrow and torment, waiting for someone to pull him back to the surface.

When you first joined the department, a couple years ago, your role as a digital forensic analyst was still a relatively new one within law enforcement. You were stepping into a world where solving cases meant hitting the pavement, heading out into the streets to fight crime with badges and guns. To most officers, fighting crime from behind a computer screen was seen as a novelty, and Tom Ludlow was no exception. He didn’t exactly hide his skepticism; he would barely glance your way during briefings, convinced that your role couldn’t be considered real police work.

Despite the department's reluctance to accept you as an integral part of their team, you persevered. There were cases where your findings on a hard drive or some obscure email chain provided the breakthrough that all their street-level work couldn’t, and slowly, things started to shift. You remember a moment when Tom nodded at you, it was the closest thing to praise he had ever given you. Since then, he has been different. Dare you say he respects you now? But you knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of his cynicism.

“Ludlow! My office!” a sharp bark carries over the commotion, cutting through the tension and pulling your focus back into the moment. Everyone’s attention snaps towards the Captain, who’s standing halfway out his office. “Now!”

“Run along. Best not keep your Captain waiting.” Johnny’s brows quirk teasingly, his lips twitching with the barely concealed urge to quirk in amusement.

Tom’s jaw tightens and he shoots Johnny a snarling glare before shoving past him, his footsteps heavy as he trudges towards the Captain’s office.

You watch Tom go with an uneasy feeling burrowing deeper in your chest. He intrigues you, sure, but you’re still not certain if you can trust him.

˙ ✩°˖📀⋆｡˚

The L barrels along on the elevated tracks overhead, clattering like thunder as you weave through the swarm of pedestrians. Your boots click over the uneven pavement, splashing through shallow puddles lingering from yesterday’s storm. Even the congested streets of the city offer an appreciated reprieve from the suffocating environment of the hectic department.

The low autumn sun peaks between the high buildings, casting long shadows over the city — a welcome contrast to the harsh fluorescent lights, and you’d gladly accept the distant wail of sirens and honking horns over the incessant blare of the unanswered phones any day. But as much as you crave to free yourself from the burden that weighs you down, you know that no matter how far you walk, it will always follow.

Some would call it paranoia, but after the stunt you pulled you’d say your hyper-awareness is justified, albeit draining. You’re constantly on edge with a gnawing sensation that clings to your spine and never. lets. go. It’s exhausting, but you can’t sleep either. Every time a stranger glances in your direction, it feels like a threat. Eyes watching. Ears listening. Footsteps too close behind. You know you’re being wary, but it’s hard to ignore the feeling there’s a target on your back.

Of course, you knew the risks involved with such drastic measures, but you could think of no other alternative. You had to be cunning. You couldn’t just stand by, not with what you knew. Maybe if you’d given yourself more time, you could have come up with a different plan. But in that moment of distress, the cyberattack had seemed like the only way. A wildfire that would capture everyone’s attention, putting all eyes on the department. Everyone knows it’s harder to hide secrets when you’re the centre of attention.

With your knowledge and position in the department, covering your tracks was the easy part. But it doesn’t shake the feeling that someone will eventually catch up to you.

At least Johnny’s arrival brought you a semblance of relief, you had no idea that he would be the FBI agent assigned to the investigation, but it feels like a sign that you’re on the right path. Knowing there’s someone in the city you can trust, who might understand, gives you a flicker of comfort in the midst of all the chaos. But that comfort comes with a price. The last thing you want to do is make him a potential target too, the mere thought sends your gut sinking like a rock. So as much as you might want to, you can’t confide in him, to unburden some of the weight you carry. You can’t. The less he knows, the safer he’ll be — whether he likes it or not.

Above the low hum of the city, a voice calling your name pulls you from your spiraling thoughts and you spot Tom weaving through the crowd to catch up with you. What does he want? When your heavy sigh meets the brisk autumn air, a cloud fogs from your lips before the long-serving detective reaches your side.

“I’m on my lunch break, Tom.” you don’t even try to hide your irritation. There’s only a limited window of time for your lunch break and you’re someone who appreciates a healthy work-life balance.

“I know,” he replies, undeterred. “I just want to talk.” he falls into step beside you, walking over the collage of red, orange and yellow leaves that clump together on the damp pavement.

You glance at him, surprised by his persistence. He just wants to talk? Since when did Tom Ludlow speak to you outside of work? Sure, you may have earned his respect but as far as you were aware, your relationship didn’t extend much beyond solving cases and the occasional exchange of work-related pleasantries.

“Is it urgent? Can’t it wait ‘til I get back to the station?”

“I wanted to speak to you alone.”

“Why?”

“You and Utah looked pretty cozy earlier.”

That stops you in your tracks. Out of all the things Tom could have chased you across the city to talk about, this was the last thing you expected.

“What?” There’s a deep crease between your brows when you stare at him in disbelief. Rushed pedestrians brush past, muttering curses under their breath at you both for blocking their path.

“It seemed like you were hitting it off.” he avoids your gaze as he says this, like he’s trying to act nonchalant.

“Hitting it off?” you repeat the words slowly, like you’re trying to figure out what language he’s speaking. “He was asking me about the investigation.”

Of course, you aren��t going to mention your history with Johnny to Tom — there’s no reason for him to know about that. What happened between you and Johnny belongs in the past and it’s private. Besides, bringing it up now would only complicate things, and you’ve always been careful not to blur the lines between your personal and professional lives. This situation is already tangled enough.

“What did you tell him?”

You can tell Tom is trying to play it casual, to seem aloof. But there’s nothing casual or aloof about chasing you halfway across the city just to find out what you said to an FBI agent. He hides it well, but there’s an undercurrent of anxiety in his question, a tension that betrays his concern over what you and Johnny might’ve discussed.

“Why? Are you worried?” you ask, letting a faint chuckle escape your lips, breathy and light as if to disguise the weight of the question. If Tom is trying to mask his anxiety, you’re going to disguise your suspicion with humour. By the time the words are out, you’re already resuming your stride, mindful of the ticking clock. You’ve barely twenty minutes left to grab your lunch.

“You should be careful about what you say to him.” Tom answers after a pause, his voice hushed. It’s hard to decipher if this is a genuine warning bred from concern or a thinly veiled threat.

“What could I possibly say to him that’s got you so rattled you felt it necessary to chase me down through half the city… during my lunch break?”

the last part is punctuated with a grunt.

“I’m not rattled.” Tom snaps, but his tone betrays him. His brows furrowed, his jaw clenched tight. “You don’t know how much the Feds complicate things. We don’t need them sniffing around.”

“It wasn’t so long ago you would’ve said something similar about me.” you snort, reminding him of his reluctance to accept you when you first joined the department.

That hits the mark. A flicker of guilt passes behind his mahogany eyes, his gaze drops to the pavement. Neither of you have ever discussed the way he treated you since both of you were happy to sweep it under the rug and move on. Before he can find the power to muster a response, you brush past him and slip into the coffee shop on the corner.

You stride into the familiar comfort, the tension eases from your shoulders as the sweet aroma of freshly baked pastries wafts welcomingly through the air, tempting you to treat yourself.

The chime of the door rings again as Tom steps in behind you, the cold air from outside drifts inside with him as his voice cuts above the comfortable ambiance. You tilt your head slightly, just enough to catch him in your peripheral vision as he lingers a step behind.

“I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did when you first joined the department. I was an asshole. But after a couple decades on the force, you become set in your ways. It’s hard to adapt.” his words are unexpected as they reach your ears, spoken in a rough tone, as if he’s torn between letting them go and holding them back. “And I can be a stubborn bastard. I gave you a hard time and you didn’t deserve it but I figured if I pushed you enough, you’d leave.” his gaze drifts to the floor, like he’s looking for the right words in the cracks between the floorboards. “It felt like everything I knew was getting pushed aside. So, yeah, I wanted you to leave. Because if you stayed, it meant I had to face the fact that things weren’t gonna be the same anymore. And I wasn’t ready for that.”

For a moment, everything fades away and it’s just the two of you. His apology lingers between you and the silence stretches as you let his words sink in. Many responses roll through your mind, but you don’t utter any of them, instead you say, “you know, if I left, they would’ve just replaced me with another digital forensic analyst.” a faint smirk tugs on the corner of your lips.

Your response draws a huff of laughter from Tom, a brief, relieved sound that seems to ease the tension in his shoulders. He almost looks grateful, like he appreciates that you didn’t dwell too much on the sentiment behind his apology and let the moment pass without making it something heavy.

“For what it’s worth… I’m glad you stayed.” the sincerity in his words catch you off guard, you can tell it’s not an easy admission for him, he’s not used to sharing sentiments. You suppose he has been pretty closed off emotionally ever since his wife passed, but for a brief moment, you feel like you’re getting a glimpse of the man he used to be, before the walls went up.

“Well, you know, I’m pretty stubborn too.” you fold your arms across your chest, proudly displaying the smirk on your lips with a raised chin.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” Tom lets out a faint chuckle, shaking his head.

For the first time since you’ve known him, a real smile breaks through the usual hard lines of his face. It’s subtle, but genuine, softening the hardness in his features. His eyes, usually shadowed with a weariness you’ve grown accustomed to, seem lighter — like the clouds parting for just a moment.

The sight captivates you, like a rare total eclipse. The hardened detective having such a bright and boyish smile surprises you, catching you off guard. You realise you like his smile and mourn the fact that it’s such a rare sight.

You approach the counter in tandem with Tom, after you place your order for takeout, he takes it upon himself to pay, handing a ten dollar bill to the barista before you even have the chance to grab your own wallet.

“It’s the least I can do after gatecrashing your lunch break.” Tom shrugs, cutting through any protest you were about to make.

You’re unsure how to navigate this new dynamic that seems to have blossomed between the pair of you, over the span of a single lunch break. As Tom waits with you for your order, the silence stretches — not awkward, but untravelled. Your gaze drifts, searching for something to fill the silence, when you catch sight of a man sitting at your favourite table.

He’s staring. The moment your eyes lock, he swiftly averts his gaze, pretending to focus on something just past you. But it’s too late. The brief moment of connection hits you like a jolt. Those dark eyes weren’t just looking, they were assessing, lingering far too long to be random curiosity. The intensity of his gaze lingers, prickling along your skin and leaving you feeling unsettled with an icy weight in your chest. The unease that creeps over you, crawling down your spine warns you — something isn’t right. His deep irises pierce through your layers, it’s as if he knows more than he should, noticing something you have concealed from everyone else.

You glance away, trying to ignore the growing unease, but it stays with you, crawling under your skin. Is this paranoia again? Or is he a genuine threat? You instinctively lean closer to Tom, your voice barely above a whisper as you murmur, “that guy is staring.”

Tom, immediately on edge, follows your gaze towards the younger man tucked away by the nook. The tension around you thickens. Strangely, he almost looks relieved when his eyes land on the mysterious stranger. You catch an unmistakable flicker of recognition flash across his features, stirring your suspicions.

“You know him?”

˙ ✩°˖📀⋆｡˚

⋆｡°✩ Note: thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Full disclosure, I have no idea when the final parts will be posted, I am not satisfied with what I have written so far for the next part and I am going on holiday on Monday so I won’t be writing for about a week. I’m hoping that the break will help and I’ll come back to it refreshed and with a new perspective!

#keanu reeves #neo anderson #tom ludlow #the matrix #neo the matrix #street kings #neo x reader #neo anderson x reader #tom ludlow x reader #my fics #my fic #keanu reeves fanfic #johnny utah #johnny utah x reader #point break

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myoddessy · 2 years ago

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CONEY ISLAND | cl16 —THE PRELUDE.

series masterlist

summary —an article on y/n l/n and all that entails.

WHO IS Y/N L/N? by Louise Kelly

April 29th 2017.

By now, everyone and their mother has heard the name Y/n L/n. With the awards and the acclaims, it's a surprise to find that she isn't an old Hollywood legend, but instead an 19 year old girl with raw, unfiltered talent.

Although, as brilliant as L/n's work is, many fans and followers have noticed a distinct pattern in her projects: she releases something legendary (i.e. an Academy Award for directing after her debut, topping charts with her first album, etc.) and ghosts all media for six months minimum before returning with another knockout. This reputation has lead many tabloids and reporters to refer to her as "Star" an abbreviated version of what was "The Shooting Star" in reference to the fleeting moments of brightness of her career.

Many people over the years have speculated that this nature has been brought on by a lack of media privacy, as paparazzi and obsessive fans alike tracked her down and documented what was near to her every move in the two years before she began her complete media lockdown—outside of promotions, of course.

Due to this private nature of hers, there's a lot of room for speculation when it comes to her life—something news outlets and tabloids such as enews and entertainment weekly have taken advantage of too many times to count over the years by starting rumors and spreading gossip through clickbaited headlines.

In fact, most things people have come to know for certain about the young woman are through speeches she makes or posts from her friends and family's accounts.

In her 2013 Oscar acceptance speech, she went out of her way to thank her mother and brothers, saying they were the only reason she was standing there and their support meant more than any award ever could. Since then, she's never skipped a chance to praise and credit them for her success.

She has also spoken very fondly of her boyfriend and racing car driver, Charles Leclerc, with whom she's been dating for little over three years and grew up living beside. While she does not credit him by name in her speeches, she often dedicates her awards to "her love". Because of this, most information on the pair's relationship has come through both party's instagram accounts, and the accounts of their friends.

Y/n's closest friend, Amalie Billard, has been the public's window into the life of L/n, sharing sweet and funny moments through Instagram stories and posts. Amalie herself is a photographer who grew up with Y/n and has worked closely with her since an internship and ELLE magazine two years ago. Y/n has been the subject of a vast majority of Billard's work and has said that she "feels more comfortable around Amalie than she has with anyone else in the industry and treasures that bond greatly."

Gossip and drama aside, Y/n has build up an impressive reputation in the world's of cinema and music. She has won a total of 5 Academy Awards; Best Leading Actress (2012), Best Supporting actress (2014), Best Leading Actress (2016), Best Director (2017), Best Supporting Actress (2017). And has one 4 Grammys for her music; Pop Solo Performance (2014), Pop Vocal Album (2014), New Artist (2014), Best Alternative Music Album (2017).

She's been praised by some of Hollywood's greatest over the years for both her work ethic and work itself. "She's an incredibly talented young woman who has the sort of grace you'd see in Old Hollywood and the humour you wish you'd see in everyone now. She's truly a great role model for all—young and old." Said Meryl Streep in an interview for "Call for me", a film that she and Y/n starred in in 2015.

taglist— @whoetoshaw @formula-hamilton @lilsiz @sad1esgf @deviltsunoda @tall-tanned-tattoo @briboweee @uh-oh-spaghetti-oh-my-gosh @meetmeaftersix

if you would like to be tagged in future series parts, either comment, dm me, or send a message into my inbox! 💞💞

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #formula one angst #formula one x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 angst #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 grid x reader #f1 instagram au

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pumpkinandcoat · 5 months ago

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My TUA4 thoughts

Its been a week now since the final season premiered and I have finally been able to compile all my thought together

This is an essay.

Spoilers for season 4 of The Umbrella Academy

(obviously)

With the fourth and final installment of The Umbrella Academy finally released, brings the long awaited conclusion of the Hargreeves family. And suffice to say… people hated it.

Even when this show is at its weakest with its plot, the thing that makes the show so good and what many people love about the show are its characters. They are all very distinct and memorable. And in TUA3, while it's riddled with plot holes and frustrating choices, is still a lot of fun to watch because of the character moments and the relationships between the different siblings.

That is why TUA4 is so infuriating, because it takes these special and memorable characters and it morphs them into these weird versions of themselves. Every single main character falls victim to this. They regress as characters into these versions of themselves that shouldn’t exist anymore.

Luther has become a stripper. His arc has almost no dignity from the get go. This only very loosely connects with his arc in TUA2 where he works at a bar, but as a bodyman and not as a ‘professional dancer’ so as to why the writers chose to make him a stripper is weird. He has returned to live in a run down version of the academy. There is no follow up on Sloane and he mentions her only one or twice in the whole season.

Diego is somewhat resentful of fatherhood, and he misses his old life of excitement when he was a vigilante. He is unhappy with his life and he seeks the higher purpose that he thinks being a criminal deterrent will give him.

Allison yearns again to be a star and neglects her relationship with Claire in the pursuit to regain her fame.

Klaus, as soon as he regains his power, turns back to drugs. There is no attempt for him to hold onto his sobriety, even though as we see in TUA2 and TUA3 he is (mostly) sober for three years with his powers fully intact. We don’t even get a scene of him struggling with the ghosts coming back to haunt him before he is off to go buy drugs, and then he becomes a victim to sex trafficking.

Five’s working at the CIA. After a lifetime of hardship and struggle, after he is forced into organizations where he has to complete different missions - first as a child with Reginald in the academy, and later as an adult with the commission - and after he is ready to retire at the end of TUA3, he joins into another organization instead.

Viktor moves away to Canada and is again isolated from his siblings and alone. Shown to have no lasting and meaningful relationships in his personal life.

Every single character is reverted back to an old version of themselves that they have grown from by now. The writers strip them of all of their character growth and substance and reset them to their base characteristics. Worse than that they write them as stereotypes that they are portrayed as at the beginning of the show, in which they are shown to be more than just those stereotypes and have at this point for a lot of them grown from them all together. They are now reduced back to them but without any of the nuance or layers that they had before, and again stripping them of all of their character growth and personality.

The writers absolutely refuse to let these characters grow in meaningful and satisfying ways.

The relationships between these characters as well are also poorly written. Many of the strong relationships we see in the past seasons barely have interactions with each other, such as Klaus and Five, Diego and Klaus, Allison and Viktor to name a few. With Allison and Viktor we only really have one meaningful scene between them where they talk about how they aren’t close anymore and then there is no further discussion or resolution between the two. And with many others at best they get fleeting minor interactions where they maybe exchange one line or comment. Then there’s the characters who we’ve been waiting to interact for a long time, like Five and Claire, where in the first season Five expresses his desire to live long enough to meet his niece but in season 4 we don’t see them interact even once.

But by far the most insulting relationship is the one between Lila and Five and Diego.

Two fucking words: Character Assassination.

The way that they wrote Five in this season is so completely baffling. Because the writers felt the need to give Five a love interest this season they decided to pair Lila and Five up and in doing so they destroy both Five and Lilas character, and the dynamic between Five and Lila, Five and Diego, and Diego and Lila.

There are two faucets as to why this relationship doesn’t work: the in-show context and the real life implications of the pairing.

In-show: Five and Lilas relationship hinges on the fact that they are stranded together on the subway for 7 years, unable to get back to their families. In the second to last episode of the entire show they are taken away from the rest of the characters to be put in this pocket dimension for the sole purpose to develop a romantic relationship between the two of them.

For Lila as well, but especially for Five this makes no sense for their characters and butchers everything they represent and everything they stand for. Fives' driving force for his whole character is his family. Everything that Five does, every action that he takes, everything that he endures and pushes himself though, is for his family. His family's safety and survival matter more to him than his own physical, mental and emotional well being. They are the only people in the whole world that Five cares about.

Five survives 40 years in the apocalypse, with abysmal chances to get out, where any normal person would kill themselves, Five endures for the miniscule chance to get back and save his family. He spends years working for the commission, killing hundreds of people, after being the only surviving person on earth for 4 decades, to buy time so he can get back to his family. Five spends 45 years trying to claw his way back to his family. And when he does make it back to them, Five spends 28 straight days trying to prevent three different apocalypses across three different timelines so his family would live.

After 7 years on the subway Five gives up on getting back his family, and when he discovers a way back he keeps it a secret, even when he knows they are facing the apocalypse and certain death again? It doesn’t make sense for his character at all. Yes, he was tired at the end of TUA3 and was ready to lay down and die with his family by his side, but that was again after three failed attempts at preventing the apocalypse in a very short period of time. He also isn’t with his family, separated and isolated once again.

In terms of Five and Lilas relationship - It doesn’t make sense for Five, whose sole driving force throughout the entire show is his family, to turn around and betray his brother by engaging in a relationship with his wife.

The dynamic between Five and Lila throughout the seasons has progressed from enemies to begrudging allies to a close friendship between the two, a progression that could not have happened without Diego. At the end of TUA2 and the start of TUA3 these two hate each other's guts, but because they both love Diego they are willing to put their shit aside and be somewhat amicable. Then, because they also both have a connection through the commission they team up and to go back and investigate and it's here where they can move past their past and are able to slowly form a friendship.

Yes, they are very similar characters and they have a unique bond. They can understand each other in a way none of the others can, because of their unique experiences at the commission and as being used as tools of The Handler. But this doesn’t mean they are suited for each other romantically and in fact is exactly why they aren’t. They both have deep trust issues, paranoia, and a kind of bitterness towards the world because of their experiences. With Lila and Diego, the reason that they work so well is because Diego's trusting nature and goodwill in people shows Lila that she can open herself up to people and to trust and love.

And the showrunners take all of this characterization, all of the love and devotion and the deep bonds between these characters and they throw it away because they wanted to give Five a love story. In the second to last episode of the entire series we see a three minute montage of Five and Lila on the subway for 7 years, and then three scenes of them in the greenhouse before they return back to the main time.

The writers destroy these characters and destroy these relationships for 15 minutes of screentime.

There is no resolution to this plotline. There is no reconciliation or understanding about what happened. Lila dies on dubious terms with both Diego and Five. Five and Diego die hating each other.

In real life: The actor who plays Five, Aidan Gallagher, was a minor during the filming of TUA1/2/3, and this was the first year he filmed where he was legally an adult, being 19 years old when filming TUA4.

From the first season of the show, when he was 14 years old when filming, he has been heavily sexualised by a certain group of the fanbase.

And the creators of the show, who have known him since he was a young teenager, at the first opportunity they could, paired him with his 34 year old costar - They met in the filming of the second season of the show, when Aidan was 15.

They waited - literally waited - for him to turn of legal age so that they could make his character have a love story, and then regardless of morals, regardless of plot relevance, regardless of if it even made sense for the characters, proceeded to pair Five and Lila up. Completely uncaring of the story, the established relationships between the characters and the overarching arcs of these characters.

The writers literally had to completely separate and isolate Five and Lila from the rest of the characters in their own timeline for over half a decade in order for it to make sense for them to develop a romantic relationship between them.

The decisions of the creators in this season are just so insane.

In continuation of Fives character this season - he abandons his family twice. Firstly when he finds the cipher to the subway and can return home, but chooses not to. Then secondly while his family are facing a life or death situation and another apocalypse, he physically fights Diego, and when Lila intervenes and implies that their relationship is over, he abandons them in the middle of the fight, to return to the subway.

And finally we get to the finale, where Five - again whose entire character is built on the love and devotion he has for his family - decides to erase himself and his entire family's existence from not just one timeline, but across every single timeline in order to correct the universe.

Five has never cared about the timeline. In fact he has always actively been working against it for his family's survival. They are supposed to die in TUA1 but Five will not allow that to happen and he goes against everything and every one to ensure that they live. He does this in every single season - goes directly against time and the universe to make sure his family makes it out on the other side. Now he is happy to give up and give in and not just to let his family die, but to have them permanently erased as if they hadn’t existed at all.

Even with the Five diner, we see all these Fives who have given up on trying to save their family after trying and failing to save them countless times - over 100,000 times - they resign themselves to a life of solitude with only alternate versions of themselves for company. Surely some of these Five have had to make the same connection that our Five makes, but they won’t sacrifice their families existence for the sake of the main timeline. But our Five, the Five that we follow, the Five we’ve personally seen struggle and fight to make sure his family is safe is the one who does.

I just cannot express how much this season disappoints me. The fundamental misunderstanding the creators have with their own characters and their own show is unbelievable. Even at the show's weakest, what makes it so engaging, what makes it so great, is this dysfunctional ass family who love each other. Their unbreakable bonds even when they are at odds with one another. How in their own weird way they do care deeply for one another.

And the creators when telling the final story of these dearly beloved characters, destroy the bonds between them and send them off with a big old Fuck You to the audience to boot.

I cannot fathom how the same people who made TUA1 and TUA2, created this. Truly I cannot.

The conclusion from all of this I have come to is that the creators of this show are obsessed with writing perverse storylines. More subtle in the beginning, but now at the expense of the story and the characters themselves. Even since TUA1 there have been very weird romance story lines. Luther and Allison, and though not explicitly stated, the dynamic between Five and The Handler in the first two seasons is extremely uncomfortable.

And in TUA4 it all comes to the forefront where despite all of the complexity and nuance in the previous seasons of the show, they are willing to throw it all away to write these weird creepy storylines that nobody but themselves asked for or wanted. Luther becoming a stripper, Klaus being sex trafficked, Lila and Fives whole relationship.

Again I cannot express how much this season disappoints me. I cannot comprehend the decisions the creators of this show made. I cannot understand why they chose to destroy everything that made this show great. I cannot fathom how they could end this show in such a way and then pat themselves on the back for a job well done.

This has made me so deeply upset in a way that I just can't express. I have completely lost all respect for the creators of this show. I’m glad that it's finally come to an end so the creators can’t keep continuing to ruin this show and its characters.

Goodbye, Hargreeves family. You all deserve so much better.

#five hargreeves #the umbrella academy #tua s4 #tua #number five #lila pitts #diego hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #luther hargreeves #sorry this is so long #s4 is my 13th reason

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