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imaginespazzi · 2 months

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Part 1: Simple Things

Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

Cause your presence still lingers here (it won't leave me alone)

(In which a procrastinating writer starts another series to continuously procrastinate on)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining

Words: 5.8K (lowkey shocked I managed that)

TW: Swearing (I think that's it?)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Look at me not being a liar! I'mma try to be good with updates but we all know me. This first chapter is mainly buildup and it's not my favorite but it's important to get the plot rolling. I know very little about California and it's going to become more and more apparent throughout this series so everyone who knows Cali, just pretend thanks! Did I edit? Yes. Are there probably still mistakes? Also yes. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked, and what you wanna see next!

February 2033

“Anywhere but GSV,” Paige says adamantly, staring at the white wall in front of her, instead of her exasperated agent.

Talia lets out a deep sigh, perfectly manicured sharp red nails tapping incessantly against her desk. For the most part, Paige is a dream client and when Talia says jump, she says how high. It’s easy to trust Talia’s vision when she hasn’t let her down once since Paige’s management company has assigned her to their basketball sensation. But most of those decisions had been about endorsement opportunities, opportunities that wouldn’t have other ramifications on the rest of Paige’s life, opportunities that didn’t come with personal consequences.

“Paige-”

“How about the Sparks?”

“They’re not offering nearly as much.”

“I’m okay with taking a pay-.”

“You do not pay me as much as you do for me to let you finish such a stupid sentence.”

“Fine,” Paige spins around in her swivel chair, “you’re telling me nobody else is offering me anything as big as GSV.”

“Well I mean Indiana…” Talia trails off, barely able to hide an impish grin at Paige’s pronounced eyeroll, “and of course you could always just stay in Dallas.”

Paige winces at the mention of the current team. With one championship and two MVP campaigns under her belt, it would be incorrect to say her time with the Wings hadn’t been fruitful but she’d never felt quite at home here. And that had been before the personnel changes had hit Dallas and suddenly, the team coming off a near perfect season with a trophy in their hand, was struggling to keep themselves in playoff contention. Paige had stuck it out two more seasons after, a testament to her loyal nature and desire to start and finish her career at the same place like many legends had done but ultimately enough had been enough and she’s come to terms with the fact that she’s not meant to be a part of the Wings forever.

“Can’t you try talking to the Sparks again?” she says, hands massaging her temple as she resorts to begging, “it’s fucking L.A. they’ve got to have some money lying around somewhere.”

“Even if they did, you and I both know the Sparks aren’t a good fit basketball wise either. GSV has everything you’re looking for. They need a PG and you need a championship contender who’s offering you a deal like they are. You can’t throw all of that away just because-”, Talia bites her lip, catching herself before she can vocalise out loud the real reason they’re having such a complicated conversation about what should be a simple decision.

Paige swallows uncomfortably, skin prickling with that all too familiar fire that spreads through her veins every time her past brushes a little too close to her present. It would be impossible to keep them from ever colliding, but for almost a decade now, Paige has managed to keep them separate beyond absolute necessity. She’s done the cordial handshakes when the Wings played the Valkyries and given due diligent praise when the media had asked about the competition, but that was it. More than that would have been like willingly walking into a fire with kerosene all over her body. And Paige can’t do that, not when the burn marks from years and years ago, still haven’t healed.

“Team chemistry is important,” Paige says finally, “I might be an on-court fit at GSV but that won’t matter if it’s a disaster off the court.”

Talia sighs and Paige can tell she’s fighting the urge to whack her head against her desk, “it’s been years Paige. You've lived a whole life without each other. The two of you are adults. You’re professionals and you’re two of the best goddamn players in the league. You have the same goal; you want to win. You don’t think you can put that behind you to get you both what you want?”

You've lived a whole life without each other

It’s like a well-aimed arrow that barely breaks skin but shatters something underneath, something buried deep within, something she should have gotten rid of years ago but hasn’t been able to let go of yet. Something that feels a lot like a forever she’d never gotten to live out and an always that had flown out of her reach. And Paige knows nobody lives the life they’d expected to live at fifteen or even eighteen but the truth is that most of her dreams had come true. The only thing missing was the person she’d expected to be there by her side when they did.

“Okay listen,” Talia begins again, “here’s what’s gonna happen.”

“Bossy,” Paige smirks, bracing herself, knowing she’s not about to like the next words out of Talia’s mouth.

“You’re going to go to San Francisco,” the older woman raises a silencing hand the minute Paige tries to protest, “you’re going to meet the front office, you’re going to meet the GM and you’re going to tour their facilities. And if after talking with them and seeing all they have to offer, if it’s still not enough to counter having to play with her, then we can revisit this conversation.”

“Can I say no?” Paige tilts her head with a sigh.

Talia smirks and it’s enough for Paige to let her head finally hit the table, “your flight leaves in two days.”

***

Azzi wakes up to a light weight sprawled over her back and tiny fingers rubbing circles against her temple. She can’t help but smile, keeping her eyes closed and listening to the sound of her daughter’s quiet breathing as the little girl continues her ministrations. It’s a new skill she’s been taught, to wake her mom up like this instead of screaming. So far, Azzi think’s it’s been a successful transition.

“Mama,” Stephie whispers in Azzi’s ear, “are you awake yet cause I really really want waffles.”

Azzi laughs, finally flipping herself over and Stephie squeals as she goes from on top of her mother, to landing on the bed, “I thought you said you wanted pancakes last night?”

“I did,” a thoughtful look crosses the five-year-old's eyes, “I think I changed my mind.”

“You think?” Azzi suppresses a smile. It’s uncanny really how she’d given birth to her perfect mini-me. The moment the nurses had placed the tiny little creature into her waiting hands, she’d noticed immediately how much it felt like looking through a door into her childhood. And with every passing day, it seems Stephie morphs more and more into Azzi. From the way her face betrays her every emotion to the way she can’t make a decision to save her life, it’s all Azzi and really it makes sense, because Stephie is all Azzi’s.

“Yes,” Stephie nods matter-of-factly as she sits up onto her knee and pulls at Azzi’s blanket, “so can you get up and make me waffles now?”

“Oh of course I can, your highness,” Azzi says dramatically, rising off the bed and letting Stephie climb onto her back, “would you like chocolate sauce or maple syrup with that your majesty?”

Stephie groans, burying her face in Azzi’s neck as if her mother has asked her to make the most difficult decision in the world. They settle into their morning routine, Stephie brushing her teeth as Azzi goes through her meticulous skin care regiment, occasionally dabbing little bits of this and that on her daughter’s skin, eliciting soft giggles from the little girl. It’s her favourite sound in the entire world. Azzi’s life isn’t perfect and there’s a million what if’s, one bigger than all of the others, that plague her mind sometimes but then she looks at Stephie, and she knows she wouldn’t change a single decision she’d made. Because they’ve all led to this moment, 9 am on a Friday, making waffle batter as her five-year old sits on the counter-top. It’s not everything but it’s enough.

The frantic sound of a door being haphazardly slammed open has both Stephie and Azzi startled, until Colleen comes bursting through it like a tornado.

“Oh thank god you’re awake,” Azzi’s best friend and manager says, out of breath, as she throws her car keys on the kitchen table.

“Hi Aunty Leen,” Stephie grins, waffle batter all over her mouth as she continues to dip and lick.

“Hey kiddo,” Colleen ruffles Stephie’s hair before sitting down and staring pointedly up at Azzi, “you might wanna sit down for this. I have news.”

“Sorry to break it to you Collen but your new h-o-o-k-u-p-s are not sit-down-newsworthy,” Azzi smirks as Colleen scrunches up her nose trying to keep up with the spelling.

“Oh trust me Az, I wish this was about my h-o-o- whatever,” Colleen takes a deep breath, “GSV is meeting with a potential point guard this week.”

“I would hope so. We really need a PG if we’re gonna redeem ourselves next season.”

“Right, well- you see- the thing is-”

“Today if you can please Colleen,” but there’s this knot forming in the pit of her stomach. Her sixth sense that’s been dormant for years is prickling and if she’s honest with herself, Azzi knows the next words that are about to come out of Colleen’s mouth before her best friend has even said them.

“GSV wants to sign Paige,” Colleen says slowly.

For a moment there’s silence and it’s ridiculous how all it takes is her name for Azzi’s mind to start flipping through pages and pages of a photo album she’s buried deep in the treasure chest of her mind. And for a second, she allows herself to get lost in a flood of everything we could have been until the sting of her hand slipping against the waffle iron jolts her back to reality.

“Fuck,” she curses, immedaitely blowing at her fingers. It does nothing. She should know by now that when things burn, the flames might die out, but even the ashes remain on fire.

“Bad word Mama,” Stephie chides immediately, unaware that her mother’s world has just been thrown off balance, “you owe me a kiss.”

She juts her cheek out and Azzi complies, trying to ignore the way her heart is desperately trying to beat out of her chest. It only calms down a little when Stephie presses a kiss of her own against Azzi’s cheek.

“Sorry sweetheart, mama’s bad, Here can you mix this batter for me,” Azzi whispers to the younger girl, distracting her child with something to do, before rounding on her best friend, “she can’t come here.”

Colleen sighs, getting comfortable in her chair, “unfortunately I don’t think you have much choice.”

“The h-” Azzi cuts herself off, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, “the haystack I don’t. This is my team and I don’t want her on it and I’m gonna walk into Ohemaa’s office and tell her exactly that.”

“Right and what exactly are you going to tell her when she asks you why you don’t want the best point guard in the league on your team Azzi? Your team, who mind you, lost in the finals last year because you didn’t have a point guard.”

Azzi flinches, gritting her teeth, both at the reminder of the loss that had happened not long enough ago and the fact that she couldn’t very well go into her boss’s office and blurt out the truth about a tragic relationship that had lived and died in secret.

“It's a bad idea, the two of us- we’ll kill each other Colleen,” she struggles to string the words together, swallowing away the we already have that tastes like bile on the tip of her tongue.

“Well you’re gonna have to learn not to,” Colleen says decisively, slipping from being Azzi’s best friend to her manager, “because you and I both know that if you want GSV to win another championship, you’re going to need her.”

“Are you my manager or GSV’s,” Azzi grunts, rubbing a tired hand against her forehead.

Colleen smiles, “it’s the same thing isn’t it? What’s good for GSV is good for you. And we all know the two of you thrive on the court together.”

“We did. Past tense,” the admission falls like lava from Azzi’s lips, singeing the edges of her mouth as everything that she’d let simmer underneath threatens to bubble over, “there’s no guarantee we still will. Besides, it's all a moot point anyways because she would never agree.”

“Wouldn’t she?” Colleen cocks an eyebrow and Azzi groans at the rhetorical question, waiting for the inevitable other shoe to drop, “because last I checked, she’s flying into San Francisco tomorrow.”

***

Paige has a problem. A really big fuck i really want to be a golden state valkyrie type of problem. She’d fought it every step of the way since she’d landed in San Francisco. Something about the city felt like it was bursting with basketball. The drive from the airport into Oakland had been bursting with murals of the Warriors and the Valkyries and for a split second, Paige can see her own face up on the billboards in a #5 Valkyries jersey. She just doesn’t know if it she can imagine herself next to the woman in #35 again, the woman whose smile in the posters is exactly as she remembers it to have been like when it was pressed into Paige’s skin every night almost a decade ago.

On top of that, Omehaa Nyanin had seemed to know exactly what made Paige Bueckers, the basketball player, tick. Every argument Paige had about why she shouldn’t be Valkyrie, the woman had a counter ready, as if she’d already anticipated exactly what the blonde would say. The Valkyrie coach had been even more prepared with videos of their offensive and defensive sets and how they fit in tandem with Paige’s own skill set, all ready to show off the minute she had walked through the door. It should be the easiest decision in the world to let herself just belong to this world that is screaming her name but there’s a rope around her waist trying to tug her back to safety, trying to tug her away from dousing her still-open wounds in salt.

Sighing, Paige lets herself into what she’s been told is called the “chill area”. Coach had offered to give her a tour of the facilities herself but Paige had declined, asking instead for her former UConn teammate and currently Valkyrie centre Jana El Alfy to do the honours, desperate for a familiar face who knew her history to bounce her thoughts off. It clearly wasn’t what the woman had wanted, but considering she was trying to convince Paige to choose them, whatever the blonde wanted, she was going to get. Massaging her temples at this irritating predicament she’s unwillingly found herself in, Paige’s head rolls back against the back of the chair, eyes closing involuntarily.

“You’re not supposed to sleep in here,” a tiny voice echoes and Paige almost jumps out her skin in shock.

“Fucking hell,” she curses as her eyes fall upon a little girl who seems to have materialized out of nowhere, “shit kid, you scared me.”

The child scrunches her nose and Paige feels her heart beat start to quicken as recognition settles in. She knows this little girl, has seen her on the sidelines at countless games and just like every other time, all she can think of is just how much this child resembles the future Paige had once believed would be hers.

“You owe me three kisses,” the girl says matter-of-factly, her tone so similar to her mothers. It shouldn’t surprise Paige, not when the kid has those same dark curls, those same doey brown eyes, that same nose scrunch.

“I owe you three kisses?” Paige repeats.

The girl rolls her eyes letting out a sigh far too grave for someone of her age, “yes. Mama says whenever someone says a bad word around me, they have to give me a kiss. You said three bad words, so you owe me three kisses.”

“And what does Mama say about asking strangers for kisses?”

“Stranger danger duh silly,” the child puts her hands on her hips, tilting her head as she looks at Paige with a far too familiar expression, “but you’re not a stranger.”

Paige purses her lips, “I’m not?”

“You’re Paige Bueckers. I’ve seen you at Mama’s games and Nanna and Pops have pictures of you in their house,” she stops, staring accusingly, “you don’t know who I am? Did you forget me?”

And Paige doesn’t know what catches her off guard more. The casual mention of a house that used to feel like a home, of people that used to feel like family or the fact that, that puppy dog stare still has the exact same effect on her that it did years ago, even if the owner of said eyes is different.

“Of course I didn’t forget you. You’re Stephanie,” Paige says softly, trying to muster a smile as she adds the last name, “Stephanie Fudd.”

“Stephanie Katarina Fudd,” comes the immediate correction, “but everybody calls me Stephie,” tiny hands wrap around Paige’s neck as Stephie climbs on to her lap, tapping a finger on her left cheek as she smiles up at Paige, “so now can I have my kisses?”

Slowly, Paige presses three featherlight kisses against the little girl’s cheek and when Stephie squeals in delight, she wishes she could record it. Someone somewhere is playing a practical joke on her, Paige is sure of it. Because all of a sudden, all the little things she’s been collecting as to reasons why she might just like the Bay Area are starting to feel insignificant in front of this one, in front of Stephie and her innocent smile and the way her free hand is curled around Paige’s neck as if she’ll hold on forever. And the world is definitely playing a cruel prank on her because Stephie can’t be the reason Paige wants to stay, not when her mother’s the reason Paige needs to go.

“Your Mama just lets you run around the building like this?” Paige asks, trying to focus on Stephie instead of the turmoil in her brain.

Stephie smiles sheepishly, “well I was ‘posed to stay with Aunty Leen while Mama talks to Miss O but then Aunty Leen got a call and I was bored so I came here.”

It doesn’t take Paige too long to decipher that Miss O must be Omehaa, but she’s stuck on who the hell Aunty Leen could be. She’s distinctly aware that her skin has no right to prickle, her hands have no right to sweat, her stomach has no right to knot, she has no right to feel anything when it comes to Stephie’s mother. But jealousy floods through her anyways.

“Who is Aunty Leen?” Paige asks and then mentally slaps herself for it.

“Aunty Leen is Aunty Leen,” Stephie explains unhelpfully, “so Miss Buecks-”

“Bueckers.”

Stephie shoots her an unimpressed look, “same things Miss Buecks. Are you here to join Mama’s team?”

“I-” Paige scratches her neck, only slightly taken aback by the direct question, “I don’t know.”

“You should,” Stephies says decisively, “Mama’s team is the best team in the world and Mama’s the best player in the whole wide world.”

Paige can’t help but smile at Stephie’s loyalty, “so why does her team need me then?”

Stephie looks contemplative for a moment before she uses her index finger to beckon Paige towards her, “can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course you can,” Paige says, leaning her ear down so Stephie can whisper into it.

“Don’t tell anyone but you’re my second favourite player.”

Paige swears her heart feels like it might burst. She’s been plenty of people’s favourite player and it’s always been nice to hear. But somehow, all of that seems to pale in comparison to being Stephie’s second favourite player.

“Why’s that a secret?” she asks softly.

“Cause you play for the wrong team silly. I can’t cheer for not Mama’s team,” Stephie huffs and then her eyes twinkle, “that’s why you should play for Mama’s team and then I can support you!”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Paige concedes, battling against the part of her brain that’s conjuring up an image of Stephie on the sidelines, cheering for Paige.

“What’s log-ic?” Stephie asks.

“Just means you’re a really smart kid,” Paige says, tapping the little girl’s nose. Her head is ringing with warning bells because this floaty feeling of belonging that’s encompassed in this little bubble she’s found herself in with Stephie is not one she’s allowed to feel, not now, not ever.

“STEPHIE,” a shrill voice echoes outside and Stephie immediately dives into Paige’s neck, hiding herself in the crook of it as a frazzled woman bursts through the door. Her eyes soften when they fall on Paige and the blonde can’t help the caught expression that filters on her face. She knows she’s done nothing wrong; Stephie had been the one to find her after all. But perhaps it’s because she’s scared Colleen will take one look at her and see that tiny rebellious part of her that wants to fight what’s coming next, wants to fight the woman who’s going to take Stephie away from her. Paige isn’t one to get attached easily. It had only ever happened once before when she was fifteen and she’d just known that the girl shooting three’s next to her on the court was meant to be in her life in one way or another. But things had been simple then. Nothing was simple now.

“Stephie,” Colleen says slowly, “what have I told you about running away from me?”

Stephie peeks her head out from Paige’s chest, a coy smirk playing on her lips, “not to do it? But you were boring me Aunty Leen.”

Oh that’s Aunty Leen, Paige thinks and she absolutely should not let out a sigh of relief at that but she does anyway.

“I was on the phone for two minutes, Steph.”

“Two minutes too long,” Stephie counters and Paige has to stifle a laugh.

Colleen rolls her eyes before holding out a hand, “well your Mama’s nearly done so we have to get going kiddo.”

“Can Miss Buecks come with us?” Stephie asks innocently and both Colleen and Paige freeze.

“I don’t think-”

“I’m not sure-”

They both begin before their eyes flicker to each other and they can’t help but smile. It’s funny how relationships work, how one snapped string can cause a whole web to dissolve, no matter how hard everyone involved had tried to make it work.

“I’m waiting to meet someone sweetheart so I can’t come right now,” Paige explains, “but maybe next time?”

And she shouldn’t add that last part, not when Paige should be devising an escape plan to never be in Oakland again instead of giving Stephie false hope about a next time that’s far from guaranteed. But it’s worth it for the way Stephie grins, staring at Paige like she’s given her the world’s greatest gift.

Before Paige can say anything, the little girl presses her lips against Paige’s cheek and she swears she stops breathing for a moment, “I hope you choose to play for Mama’s team Miss Buecks. I think you’d look pretty in purple.”

***

May 2024

“I’ve figured it out,” Paige says triumphantly as she unceremoniously flops onto Azzi’s bed.

“Well hi to you too babe,” Azzi grumbles as she scoots over to give the other girl space. It’s unnecessary because the minute she does, Paige only moves closer, wrapping an arm around Azzi’s torso.

“Hi baby,” she whispers before pressing a kiss against her girlfriend’s lips and pulling away so quickly that it leaves Azzi chasing after her.

Azzi huffs and Paige laughs as she gets herself comfortable, resting her chest on the darker skinned girl's stomach, “I’ve figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“Our future,” Paige says triumphantly and Azzi can’t help but smile at the our as she intertwines their fingers together. It’s been years in the making and there’s nothing Azzi’s more confident in than those two words. Not everyone finds forever this young, but she’s certain they have because really she can’t imagine a life where they don’t belong to each other, a life where every night isn’t spent exactly like this.

“And what do you see for our future,” Azzi asks softly.

“Well it’s simple really,” Paige hums, “I’m going to get drafted wherever next year but the year after, you’re definitely getting drafted to Valkyries-”

“I don’t know about definitely-”

“Azzi it’s rude to interrupt,” Paige sends her a chastising look.

“Right of course,” Azzi nods solemnly, “continue.”

“As I was saying. You’re definitely getting drafted to the Valks and then we just have to wait for my rookie contract to be up and boom! I’ll join you in the Bay Area and we’ll be together forever and ever and ever.”

Azzi giggles, brushing her hands through Paige’s hair, “that simple huh?”

“That simple,” Paige promises, catching hold of one of Azzi’s hands to press a kiss to her palm, “it’s us Az, we’ll always be simple. Besides, I think we’d both look pretty good in purple.”

***

May 2033

The Valkyrie facilities are state of the art as expected. Jana is the perfect tour guide, pointing out everything she knows will garner Paige’s attention. As they step foot onto the practice court, Paige feels the overwhelming sense of this could be home that’s been dancing along with her every step of the way today. All the resolve she’d carried with her from Dallas is slowly crashing down and she can practically hear Talia’s sing-song i told you so voice echoing in her head.

“You’d be really good here P,” Jana says excitedly, doing a little spin.

“You’d be lucky to have me,” Paige teases, as she picks up a basketball and subconsciously starts dribbling.

Jana laughs, before a serious expression takes over, “we would. We got really close to winning it all last year and I think you might be our missing piece.”

“I want to,” Paige confesses, “I just-” her eyes flicker to the most recent MVP poster hanging on the walls, Jana’s gaze following hers, “I don’t know if I should. It’s so complicated.”

“Only if you let it be,” Jana says as she swipes the ball out Paige’s hands, “don’t think of everything else P, just- just think of the basketball. Because you know basketball-wise, this is the right move,” she passes the ball to Paige with a smirk, tilting her head towards the basket, “why not take a shot at it P?”

Paige shakes her head, palming the ball in her hands, “can’t believe my son’s all grown up.”

“Children of divorce have no choice but to grow up,” Jana says gravely and Paige laughs despite herself.

Taking a deep breath, Paige raises the ball, arching her arms perfect as she shoots it. It barely touches the rim, before falling through the basket with swish. Hitting the floor with a quiet thud, the ball rolls until it’s stopped by someone's foot. Behind her, Paige can hear Jana cheering for the shot but she barely registers it, her entire attention on the new figure who’s just entered the court. It’s a tale as old as time. Azzi Fudd enters the room and suddenly everything else in Paige’s peripheral fades away, until it’s just her and the girl who still manages to steal her breath away.

“Nice shot,” Azzi says, as she takes a slow step towards Paige. The air is thick with tension as if a time capsule has been opened and their past is leaking onto the pages of their present, staining it with marks of the you and me that we used to be. She should say something, even if it’s just an acknowledgement of the compliment but her tongue feels dry and she’s scared that if she opens her mouth, all the things she shouldn’t say will flood out instead.

“Hey Az,” Jana’s eyes flicker awkwardly between her former teammates, “I didn’t know you were coming in today.”

“Had to talk to Omehaa about a couple of things,” Azzi says airly, eyes still fixated on Paige, “Jana can we have a minute?”

“You won’t kill each other will you?” Jana asks nervously.

Azzi laughs and even Paige cracks a small smile, “no Jana, we won’t kill each other.”

“Just making sure because last time-” Jana clamps a hand to her mouth as both Paige and Azzi flinch, “because nothing- you guys- you guys talk. I’ll give you guys a minute.”

She scampers away cursing to herself about putting her foot in her mouth and it would be amusing, if not for the fact that Paige can still barely breathe. They haven’t been alone in a room since last time and the air around them hangs heavy with the casings of the grenades they’d hurled at each other.

“I’ve never seen you with braids this early in the year. They used to be your summer braids,” Paige remarks slowly. It’s a mundane change to notice but it’s significant of the larger truth, significant of all the time that’s passed, significant of the fact they don’t know these new versions of each other.

“Yeah um, can’t really do summer braids with the W season,” Azzi chews at her lip.

“Right yeah- yeah that makes sense,” Paige nods. The awkwardness is killing her. She’d never been a fan of the silence, always more comfortable in the chaos but it had been different with Azzi. There had been something peaceful, something calming, about the quiet, when it was just the two of them, hands intertwined, eyes closed, as they listened to the sound of each other’s heartbeat.

“Paige-”

“Are you here to tell me not to come to GSV?” Paige blurts out, “because it’s- it’s okay if you are like I get it. I mean- the two of us- it’s just really fucking complicated so I get it- I get it if you don’t want me here.”

“I didn’t,” Azzi admits and it shouldn’t, but Paige feels it sting anyways, “you’re right. You and I- there’s just a lot there and it would- it would be really complicated and when Colleen first told me I- I was gonna go fight Omehaa and be like abso-fucking-lutely not but-” she sucks in a deep breath, “do you remember the promise we made to each other?”

“We made a lot of promises to each other,” Paige says, unable to keep the harshness out of her tone, “sorry I-”

“No you’re right,” Azzi swallows, “but I meant the promise we made when we first started dating. We said we’d never let the personal affect the professional. We promised each other that no matter what, we’d never let our relationship affect us on the court And I know- I know we’ve broken a lot of promises to each other,” they both let out a breath at that, “but I think- I think maybe we should try and keep this one.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you need a championship contender and GSV needs a PG. Paige, I’m not here to convince you to not come to GSV, I’m here to ask you to join our team,” Azzi says resolutely.

Paige isn’t easily shocked by anything really. She’s lived what she’d consider a pretty interesting life but of course if anyone was going to surprise her, it would be Azzi. Azzi, who has always been an exception to every rule.

“You- you want me on your team?” Paige repeats, a little dumbfounded.

“Yes,” Azzi affirms, “you told me once that we could be the best backcourt duo in college basketball and we were, even if it was only for a year, we were and so now I’m telling you that I think we could be the best backcourt duo in the WNBA.”

Paige is silent for a second before a smirk takes over her features, “I think I did a lot more than tell you, pretty sure I had a whole video that proved it.”

“Are you asking me to make you a recruiting video?” Azzi raises an unamused eyebrow.

Paige shrugs, “could be a nice gesture.”

“I have a five year old child, Bueckers. Trust me when I say I don’t have enough spare time for bullshit like that when you can easily just search up our highlights on youtube. Or just look in your trophy case if you’re looking for proof of how good we can be together,” Azzi says, a hint of that familiar sass bleeding into her spiel.

“We really were good together weren’t we,” it spills out before Paige can stop it and it’s like they’re taking two steps back from each other, the friendly-ish banter of mere seconds ago being clouded by a past tainted by their mistakes, “on the court I mean. We were really good on the court.”

“Right,” Azzi averts her gaze, “just- just think about it okay? This doesn’t- it doesn’t have to be about you and me, not like that at least. It’s about basketball. GSV is the perfect fit for you and you’re the perfect fit for us. And deep down you must know that too, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“Maybe I’m just in it for the free trip to Cali,” Paige surmises.

Azzi scoffs, “you and I both know you make too much money to need a free trip to Cali. If anything, the hotel they’ve given you is probably cheap for your standards.”

“Maybe I just like feeling important? I always did love people showering me with praise.”

“You always did love the attention,” Azzi grins teasingly, “but there’s one thing you always loved more.”

You, Paige thinks but she can’t say that, “and what’s that?”

“Winning. That’s what this is about. You want another championship, so do we. Come help us and let us help you. It’s that simple.”

As Azzi turns to walk away, Paige can’t help but call out from behind her, “you know I think your daughter’s pitch might have been better.”

There’s a smile playing on Azzi’s lips when she turns her face back a little. It’s a new smile that Paige can only assume is Azzi’s Stephie smile, “yeah? What did she say?”

“She told me she thinks I’d look good in purple,” Paige smirks.

Azzi laughs, and it’s exactly like Paige remembers, “it’s that simple huh?”

“It’s that simple.”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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colebabey888 · 4 months

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Things I did that helped me become "That IT Girl" and could help you too! | IT GIRL DIARIES 🎀🩷

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

Physical Health + Skincare🎀 🩷

- cleared my gut ( very crucial )

- worked my lazy ass off ( walking, cycling skipping just for 15 min everyday does more than you can imagine )

- became besties with green juices and smoothies ( it doesn't have to be nasty, just healthy )

- included leafy greens in every meal

- LEMON WATER ( hot water with lemon in every morning on an empty stomach and you can add honey if you don't enjoy sour things, trust me on this one !!! )

- limit processed artificial sugar ( honey and sugar in fruits are natural aka glucose and actually a good energy source )

- stopped eating junk food ( occasionally is fine but constantly, will cause your body to have issues digesting = bad gut health )

- lost 25 kg ( it's not necessary to lose weight because we're all perfect as we are, but I was at an unhealthy weight for my age + height which affected me physically and mentally )

- ate more protein and fats over carbs ( this works for me but may not for many. ps. fats = healthy fats meaning avocado, nuts, egg yolks ect. )

- BONE BROTH !!!! ( it's packed with all the minerals your body needs and has mega benefits for your skin, it helped clear my acne so well )

- prioritized zinc supplements in my everyday life for hairgrowth and to promote healthy skin ( it has tons of other benefits too, these were just my main focus points )

- remained consistent with my skincare routine ( advice : less = more )

- started doing coconut oil pulling ( 5 min is all you need )

Mental Health + Lifestyle🎀 🩷

- began journaling negative thoughts that lingered in my mind ( leave it on paper instead of projecting it into your reality )

- i drew up a vision board and lived my life according to it ( this is very beneficial if you're a procrastinator like me and can't find direction. it's similar to having a to do list )

- very important! cut off toxic friends ( you don't need an indepth of what toxic is, you'll know! )

- i began to read more often ( choose your favorite genre but I chose spirituality as it helped me gain mental stability )

- be selfish ( don't actually be rude for no reason ) be selfish with your time, your space, your energy. reciprocation is key, if you are not receiving what you're giving, you're wasting yourself.

this is your daily talk with @colebabey888 🎀 🩷

The Digital Dollar ✨👛

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headspace-hotel · 2 years

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The day before yesterday I got to try a ripe pawpaw for the first time.

Someone else was supposed to come in at the center, but I was in the mood to be alone, so I fucked off into the woods at the earliest available opportunity, looking to collect more hickory nuts.

I hiked about two miles down the trail, seeking to find a little-used path as far from the center as I could reasonably make it. I was five or ten minutes down a fork in the path heading down a valley when I unexpectedly smelled something familiar: the scent of ripe pawpaws. I only knew that scent from having come upon a rotten one several days back on the trail.

I had seen pawpaw trees on the way up, but I looked around and saw nothing. I indulged a beast-like impulse: I sniffed. I turned until I was facing the direction of the scent and moved towards it. And I saw, about 50 feet away down the hillside below...a pawpaw grove

Some interesting facts about pawpaws:

The pawpaw is the largest fruit native to North America, known for its "tropical" flavor. Despite being reputed to be delicious, it is not found in grocery stores due to the fruits being far too delicate to ship without spoiling. A few people farm them, but otherwise the only way to get one is to come upon one growing wild, which is rare, because the opossums love them.

Pawpaw trees are hard to grow and take 10-15 years to produce fruit, but you can see wild ones in mature and well managed woods of Kentucky. They are small, barely trees, only about 15-20 feet tall, with trunks only a bit bigger around than a circle you can make with your index finger and thumb. They almost always grow in clonal colonies, groups of many trees that are all clones of each other due to being propagated from the roots of existing trees. They are also strictly understory trees, growing in the shade of much larger trees.

Now, an interesting fact about Eastern Kentucky: At the fringe of Appalachia, and even into parts of the Outer Bluegrass, the terrain frequently turns into very steep rolling hills.

It's hard to notice if you are in more cultivated areas that have been leveled out more, but in wilder parts you can seldom just casually walk in a straight line through the woods. Unless you are following the contour of the hills, you are either sliding and gripping saplings to slow your descent or you are climbing on all fours.

Such was the hill below me, descending at roughly a fifty-degree angle into the pawpaw grove.

I was going to get me some fucking pawpaws.

I climb down the hill by a combination of scooting, sliding, and scrabbling. After a few minutes of struggle I am standing in the pawpaw grove, alone, scanning the branches with my eyes.

The ground is littered everywhere with pawpaws, some very rotten. I see only two or three fruits remaining in the trees, and I walk around giving each tree a good shake, thinking to myself about how this is certainly an experience shared by millions of years' worth of primate ancestors before me.

After nearly ten minutes of (literally) fruitless tree-shaking, I start to eye the fallen pawpaws on the ground around me.

Some of them are perfectly fine-looking. The skin hasn't even been broken into. I pick one up.

It is very soft, but not squishy like something rotten. It is about as long as my index finger (my hands are small) and oblong. Its smooth skin is pale green and spotted with brown like a very ripe banana. I tear the skin back and give the creamy orange insides a test lick.

Friends.

It was transcendent.

Imagine the most perfect ripe mango, but with a flavor that is more banana-like, mellow and creamy and mild instead of tangy. The texture is perfectly smooth and soft unlike any other fruit. You can lick it and it will just melt in your mouth.

I am autistic and a very picky eater due to the difficult textures of many foods, and this fruit has the perfect texture. Mangos are already one of my favorite foods and this is somehow even better. I remember, deliriously, that farmers are seeking to improve pawpaws for possible commercial production, and it seems like the height of foolishness there in the pawpaw grove. There is no possible way wild pawpaws could be improved. All of creation is tainted by the Fall of Man, except for fucking pawpaws, because they are beyond the earthly tier of fruits.

I lick it like a dog going crazy on a Kong full of peanut butter until it falls apart in my hands and start scanning the ground for another.

They are all perfectly ripe and mostly untouched by bugs or creatures. I start just squishing them in my hands and licking the creamy insides. I am just planting my face in these fruits like some kind of animal. My face and hands are covered in pawpaw squish.

I go through like ten of them before returning to my senses. I've been thoughtlessly wiping my hands on my pants, and they are now more soiled than the clothes of the messiest toddler. I feel primal and connected to my ancestors. I have truly earned my Primate Card.

My mom said in the car that I smelled very strongly of something (pawpaws) so it's safe to say that literally every person I passed on the way back down the trail got a good whiff too, and likely connected it to the Pawpaw Squish that was basically all over me.

Regrets: None

#nature #fruits #pawpaw

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kimhargreeves · 1 year

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Saved Again-Sanji x Fem Reader (One Piece Netflix)

Summary: You've been Luffy's friend for years. Being the first member to join Luffy's crew, together they are off to become pirates,.later on a certain chef has his eyes on you. And a fond memory of you and a boy after a shipwreck comes to mind when arriving at the Baratie.

(A/N: I'm so excited for the One Piece live action do I decided to write this!! I'll start on a Part 2 once the series is released. I absolutely love Sanji and he's my favorite of the Straw Hats. I relate to him a lot too since I was training to become a chef as well…anyways the one shot might be slightly changed once I watch the series.)

(A/N: Oh and also the reader is often confused as a boy but Nami and Sanji know she's a girl.)

"That's why I'm gonna be king of the pirates!!" Luffy exclaimed enthusiastically, even though we were in the middle of nowhere.

I turned around and frowned looking at him being too cheery and loud as usual. "Can you be any louder?' I glare before pulling my head out of the small boat we were in and I continued to throw up out into the ocean.

I heard a hum coming from Luffy and saw him tilting his head a bit. "Are you sure you're okay?"

This is the downside of wanting to become a pirate and sail across the Grand Line. Well, not many people get sea sick and start to pour their guts out.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead and sighed. "If only Coby didn't accept in becoming a Marine. He would've maybe given me some of the medicine he was carrying."

"He did offer some yet you said you'd be alright without it." Luffy reminds me making me groan.

"Don't make me throw up on you." I warn.

"Will you two shut up already?" I glared and looked back at the green haired man who I forgot had joined us.

"Huh? Why don't you make me, Zoro? Our friend here might be dying." Luffy said patting my back a bit too rough.

Zoro looked at us with a bored expression on his face and went back to closing his eyes. "You guys are insufferable, would've been nicer if I was still tied up."

I point and glared at him. "You should be thankful that we saved your ass."

"Luffy was the one who did. You're too weak to save anyone anyway, kid."

"I'm not a kid! I'm older than you think believe it or not!!" I shout getting defensive and forgetting that I had be throwing up.

"Then why are you acting like a kid?!"

"Guys will you stop arguing for once?" Luffy said stepping between us and calming Zoro as well when we saw an island up ahead.

Idiots are they really dumb and don't know I am secretly a girl. The reason why I like to crossdress if for fun, but mostly because I've seen the way pirates who are men are more respected.

I once had cut my hair short but decided to let it grow and use a wig instead, besides being in disguise had helped me with stealing from people.

Luffy with his devil fruit power stretched all the way until his feet hit the sand and he looked around in enthusiasm.

"Wow this island seems so cool! But why is it so quiet?!" He asked loudly.

"Maybe this is an island inhabited with ghosts." I muttered and heard Zoro scoff and began to grab his swords when the boat hit the sand below us.

Zoro jumped off of the boat and began to follow Luffy. "Hey, (Y/N). Are you coming or staying?"

I raised my head and tilted my head looking at Luffy. "You guys can go on ahead. I'll catch up with you."

He nodded and I saw both guys beginning to walk further into the island. Slowly I got up on my feet and jumped out of the boat as well. I was deep in my thoughts imagining what it will be like to travel across the world and get to know other famous pirates.

Luffy's dream has always been to become king of the pirates and his number 1 person he's always looked up to was Shanks, maybe Gold D. Roger in second place.

As for me..I really don't have a dream. I've just been following Luffy around. I don't have a family. Shanks was the one who raised me along with Luffy, I came along later in the picture and don't have any memories of my past, only a few glimpses here and there but maybe it's just me reliving someone else's dream.

"So he's also a devil fruit user?"

I stopped walking and ran to hide behind a building and I looked over and saw a group of pirates, my eyes were set on the one between all of them. Buggy the clown. I've seen his Wanted poster.. wait!

My eyes widened and then I glared when I spotted Luffy in a cage. Are you serious?! He got caught..huh? I looked and saw someone else with them too, a red headed girl.

Where is Zoro anyways?

I frowned even more when I saw he and Luffy were caught. God damn it. It's up to me now, now all I gotta do is find out if this girl is an enemy of ally.

I got out of my hiding place and prepared to face the gang of pirate clowns…

"Hang on!!"

Someone shouted and tried to reach for my hands but I was pulled away by the harsh tides of the sea. My eyes and lungs began to sting, I felt like it was the end for me. Just a few minutes ago I was with my family, are they dead? Will I die as well and meet them again?

I couldn't swim so I felt myself sinking lower into the dark cold sea. I wanted to cry but couldn't and right when I was ready accept my death I felt someone grab onto me and I was being pulled up again.

I gasped along with the person who had saved me. A man about the same age as my dad saved me, I continued to gasp and began to cough up the salty water I had in my lungs.

The sky was dark with clouds covering the sky, it was heavily raining with thunder.

"Don't die just yet kid! Hold onto this." The man exclaimed.

The man could swim with ease and he had placed me on top of a wooden piece of what I assumed was part of the ship that had exploded. I looked to my right and saw a boy my age, with blonde hair and green eyes, his eyes seemed scared as well.

Are we the only survivors?

My answer was clear the more we got away from the shipwreck and landed on an island. The man easily picked us up and placed us on his shoulder, but the more he continued to walk the more I felt he was struggling, it wasn't until we made it inside a cave that I realized he lost his leg.

I was about to comment on it but didn't when the man seemed angry at something. The boy and I exchanged looks and didn't say a word, we only saw the man lighting up a small fire place as we continued to hear thunder and lightning.

I don't know who this man is, this boy surely isn't his son…mom..dad…my eyes began to sting and I began to cry out loudly with tears running down my face along with a runny nose.

The man didn't say anything and the little boy seemed to stiffen and I saw a few tears forming in his eyes as well and he began to silently cry…

By the next morning the man, the pirate who saved us said he wanted to be alone so he left the boy and I a large bag of food. "We refuse to eat this because you're a pirate and pirates are bad people!!" The boy had shouted earlier.

The man said almost nothing and left me alone with the boy. The boy and I looked at each other and we both didn't say a word about the man.

"Umm do you think we can make a boat somehow and leave the island?" I quietly asked nervous and shy to ask this stranger for help.

"Does it look like we have a way out of this island?! The boy shouted glaring at me. "What would a girl know about sailing anyways?"

I began to cry again and I did the first thing that came to my mind, and I had punched him. "All I want is to see my parents again!"

The boy seemed surprised by my action and began to hold onto his swollen cheek. "H-hey don't cry. You're gonna make me cry again!"

It was too late. He was crying again….

It had been many days until the three of us were rescued. An odd boat with some friendly men were the one who saved us, the man who rescued the boys and us took the boy in as his own in a way, and he was about to send me off to live a normal life with someone who was willing to raise me.

The man somehow got a nice dress for me to wear, as a last send-off he had done a dessert for me. A strawberry cake I came to love at first bite.

He along with the men on the ship all were outside ready to say their goodbyes to me. I even saw a man or two begin to cry.

"I always wanted a small girl."

"You can't even feed yourself properly how are you supposed to raise a kid." I heard one of them say to another.

"You ready, kid?" I heard the man ask making me turn to look at him. I shook my head and the man sighed and patted my head once. "You'll soon understand why I'm sending you off. You'll have a proper life."

My eyes wandered over to the man and over to the small boy I was saved with. The boy stiffened when I looked at him, and I saw his pale cheeks turn to a pink color.

"I-I…" I didn't know exactly what to say, that's until he spoke up.

"I d-do hope you enjoyed the cake I made with help! Next time if we meet again I'll bake you a whole lot more..also…if we meet again I'll make you my wife!!" He exclaimed.

The men behind the boy groaned and one of them lightly hit his head. "That's no way of a send-off!"

I shyly smiled at all of them and the boy….

"Usopp!! Nami!! Are we there yet?!"

"How many times do we have to say, no!!"

I squinted my eyes when I opened them. "That was a strange dream." I muttered to myself and glared at the three who woke me up.

Few days have gone by since he fought Buggy and his crew along with a few more pirates. Usopp was the new crew member. He's a bit odd and a scaredy cat but he means well. If it wasn't for him. Luffy wouldn't have his new and proper ship, officially presenting himself as a pirate.

The sailing ship was huge and fitted with us do well. Luffy named it the Going Merry. A fitting name for a ship.

I looked to my left and saw Zoro fast asleep, I felt envious that he could sleep through this much talking and noise. I made sure my wig was still in place and I got up to join Nami up front. At least it's nice to have another girl around.

"So…you don't have trouble with sharing a room filled with guys?" I asked and saw Nami giving me an odd bur serious look.

"No?" She squinted her eyes looking at me and looked back at the tides.

Weird…It's a shame I can't talk about girl things with her.

Luffy said he was searching for the last member to our team. Luffy is Captain, we have a navigator..well kinda that being Nami, the main fighter being Zoro, Usopp as the sniper and I fix anything on the ship

Since none of us are cooks. Luffy suggested on finding a chef. I offered to be the one to fill everyone's stomach, but everything I cook always ends up burnt.

The rest of us began to get things done on the ship until a fight began with another ship and the Going Merry crashed into a ship. My mouth fell open when we crashed and accidently directed a cannon ball into the ship that wasn't even attacking us.

"Crap…Luffy!" I shouted and saw him smiling shamefully.

All of us walked closer to the deck and saw the great damage the other ship received. "We better head in there and talk to the person in charge. And you are going to apologize." I said grabbing onto Luffy's straw hat and he quickly grabbed it back and placed it on his head.

He said nothing and began to follow us. We got onto the other ship and read the ships name, The Baratie.

I looked around and this seemed familiar. "You okay?" Nami stopped and asked glancing back at me.

"Yeah.. everything's fine." I said still looking around and ran over to her side and began to follow the rest of the crew.

We all entered the ship and wow was it beautiful and extremely fancy. "Wow..this is something else. It doesn't feel like we're in the middle of the sea." I said in awe and stared around.

Everything looked so expensive. I saw people around sharing their meals and couples smiling at each other and drinking fancy wine. Not to mention the smell, I wonder how the food must taste!

I was practically drooling when I saw a huge meal in a table. Nami had grabbed the back of my clothes and dragged me away from a couple who was staring at me weirded out.

"Get a hold of yourself, (Y/N)." Nami muttered and went to sit down on an empty table.

I nodded at myself then went back to checking the place out. This seems so familiar…I started to walk around and peeked over and saw many chefs cooking the meals and they seemed to make it so easy.

"I have an order for a large plate of seafood rice, potato pallie and medium sized bowl of sea pork soup. I need it done in less than 10 minutes!" My mouth began to water even more.

"All have it done in 5." Someone said on the other side with a British accent.

"(Y/N)!" Someone hissed my name and I quickly went over to sit next to Nami and Zoro. Luffy came in as well while we sat down and patiently waited to talk to someone.

I had excused myself after waiting for a bit and went to the bathroom. When I returned I saw Nami still sitting down and she raised an eyebrow looking not pleased when a man began walking towards her.

I felt my heart race when I saw a tall figure standing just a few inches away from her. A handsome man with blonde hair with one of his eyes being a bit hidden by it. He was wearing a dark suit with a blue and white striped shirt under it with a black tie and matching dress pants.

"Would the lady like something sweet?" I saw a smirk spread across his face and Nami just stared at him and rolled her eyes.

Who is he?? And does he know Nami? The man was clearly flirting with her.

"You gotta be joking." I heard Nami ssy. She then turned to look at me.

I didn't know what to do or say. I simply stared at her confused then looked to see the man look at me, he glanced for a second then once again and was now looking directly at me. He immediately walked away from Nami and began to walk towards me.

I began to take a few steps back and I gasped when he took hold of my hand with both of his hands and saw him get down on one knee.

"You are the most gorgeous being I've laid my eyes on. A sight no other I've come across in the Grand Line.."

Thank goodness Nami couldn't listen but it was quiet clear to anyone that this man was flirting with me.

"Y-You've got it all wrong!" I said trying to pull back and felt my cheeks turning red. I can't let anyone know at the moment that I was crossdressing as a guy!!

"I'm never wrong. My eyes never fail when I see a beautiful lady as yourself."

If I weren't in this situation I would be falling on my knees. He's so cute and handsome! My lips began to quiver and I felt my entire body freeze. I've never met a man who shameless at flirting with a stranger.

The man rose up to his feet now towering me and smiling down at me. "I-I…"

He smiled and Introduced himself. "My name is Sanji."

#netflix #anime #one piece #one piece netflix #one piece live action #vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji #sanji x reader #one piece x reader #taz skylar #one piece netflix x reader

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gatorbites-imagines · 7 months

Note

Whitebeard fucker here lol I’ve been summoned. Could you write something with a reader whose used to being the biggest guy around meeting whitebeard and going “ohhh” and wanting to climb that man like a tree? Any and all kinks are up to your choosing monsieur gator!! Also happy birthday man!

Edward “Whitebeard” Newgate x male reader

Headcanons

Bit my lip so fucking hard when I saw this request. Whitebeard enjoyers come assemble!

Thanks for the birthday wish :) I ended up getting a lot of comics and manga, so I’m very happy.

Reader possesses a devil fruit I made up I call the sun-sun Fruit. Hes also like 16 ft 9. Hes also at least 40+ years old. Old man yaoi.

You had known of Whitebeards existence ever since you started traveling the sea, who didn’t? The guy was a legend known as the strongest man alive, someone to avoid if you did the type of business you did.

You were a bit of an everything man. Information gathering, Intimidation, bodyguarding, assassin, anything that paid you a lot and you didn’t have to hurt the innocent, Youd do it.

The world government were cautious of you, but always let you get away with things others wouldn’t, as you also took jobs for them if need be. You played on every board, siding with pirates, with marines, with the poor, and with the rich. As long as they had good reason for asking for your help.

Your Sun-Sun fruit always helped with this as well, making you an extremely powerful fighter, possessing the ability to gather and store solar energy and light itself. After mastering it you could easily create explosions big enough to destroy islands, coat your body in solar energy, or coat your weapons, as well as many other things.

Your preferred weapon were spears, your most beloved weapon a naginata that had been gifted to you after a job well done, some celestial who fanboyed over pirates wanting to give you a big reward. The naginata was supposedly cursed, but you two got along a little too well most days.

All in all, you were well known in your own circles, but nowhere near as much as someone like Whitebeard.

That was also the reason you turned down your latest request to kill Whitebeard. You might have been strong, but you were never an idiot. You might have stood at almost 17 feet, towering over anyone you had ever met, but even you know Whitebeards crew was so loyal it was lethal.

The people giving you the request has been annoyed about you rejecting it, but they could do nothing to stop you as you left, on your way to the next island. There was never a destination in mind if you didn’t have a contract, so you just called it joy sailing.

It was mere coincidence that you found yourself sailing through Whitebeards territory. You had no need for a crew, as you had mastered the skill to create stand-ins with your sun-sun fruit, creating human shaped beings out of condensed solar energy.

The ship you traveled in wasn’t too big either, especially compared to the moby dick. But they had easily spotted you, and your “crew” had spotted them in return. For some reason the whitebeard crew were interested in you, though their interest made your heartrate skyrocket as the moby dick neared your own much smaller ship.

When it became clear they weren’t there to fight, you agreed to link up your ships, even if it was just because you knew they could end you before you would be able to run for it.

Stepping onto the ship, part of you was curious at their lack of reaction to your towering height, even as they had to turn their heads all the way back to look at you to ask questions about your “light crew”, or one of them demanding to know what your favorite food was, or where you got your naginata.

When you finally met Whitebeard though, it all made sense. The guy made even you feel small, even though he wasn’t towering over you the same way you were the rest of his crew. Maybe it was his presence, as he laughed and patted you on the back, greeting you by the nickname the masses called you.

But all you could think about was how seeing someone taller than you made you feel. Just feeling his large hand patting your shoulder, or seeing how he was still taller than you when you sat, was enough for you to think about booking it again.

You had no idea why, but for some reason you stuck around with the Whitebeard crew for a while. To the point where they started acting like you were part of the crew. Even when you tried to turn it down, they’d just give you a knowing look before ignoring your complaints.

In your opinion, you were too old to join someone’s crew, especially with you being known as a “backstabber”, as you never picked one specific side.

And yeah, you knew why you were sticking around for so long. It was all Whitebeard, and that weird, fluttering feeling he gave you, and the arousal he caused, but that was not as important…for the most part.

It was only after the crew had settled on the island to restock that you thought about leaving for real. One of your contacts had called you on your den den mushi, and told you about a very high paying job. You might have been so rich your ancestors would live in luxury, but you could never get enough.

Unluckily for you, Whitebeard had overheard the call. He had looked sad about you wanting to leave, but had invited you to join him for a drink before you packed up and went on your way.

That’s how you found yourself sitting beside him in front of a bonfire, just the two of you, both of you decently buzzed and flushed. Your devil fruit power made you mostly immune to alcohol, the heat of the sun burning the alcohol away before it could work, but whatever stuff Whitebeard had on him seemed to have the right kick.

Later you would blame the alcohol for your reaction when Whitebeards hand settled on your lower back. You had abandoned your jacket a while ago, some of Whitebeards crew running off with it to use it for some drunk game they were playing.

Your devil fruit also worked best without too much clothes in the way, meaning Whitebeards hand was right on your back, and your thirsty self had arched into it with a soft groan, your head flopping to the side to rest against him.

Whitebeard had chuckled, but it wasn’t his usual loud guffaw, but something deeper and smoother, like melted dark chocolate or the best whiskey you had ever drank.

His hand had rubbed and massaged your back until you felt like putty, small sparks of light and solar energy flickering across your torso as your control slipped, Whitebeard huffing amusedly at the small jolts it sent through his arm.

You would blush in the future when thinking about it, denying it ever happened, before blaming the alcohol once more. But in that moment, it was impossible to not spill all the thoughts you had about him. How he made you feel so hot inside, how much you fantasied about him, his hands, his height, his cock.

Whitebeard had seemed almost charmed, and maybe he was. It wasn’t every day that someone his age and especially his size had someone fawning over them. Maybe that was why he pulled you into his lap, with your back resting against his chest, as his battle worn hands traveled across the front of your torso.

He murmured and purred into your ears as one of his large, calloused hands groped and pinched at one of your pecs, making you gasp and arch into the touch, legs jolting until his other hand came down to hold your thigh in place.

The praise falling from his lips had you feeling much drunker than you were, vision blurring for a second before you were able to focus again, your own hands grasping at his pantleg as you huffed out a breath.

The veins across your body lit up every now and then from the stored solar energy in your body flickering, causing Whitebeard to chuckle that deep chuckle once more, making some comment about that being a nice party trick.

You were about to snap back a rebuttal, something rude about his own devil fruit power, but before the words could even leave you, the hand gripping your thick slid under your waistband.

Embarrassment flooded your system as you keened, head falling back onto his chest as your hips jolted. And how crazy was that? He was so tall your head fall onto his chest, not his shoulder, not above his own head, his chest.

It had your throbbing even more, immediately coating his palm in a layer of precum, making Whitebeard tsk teasingly, before rubbing the palm against the head of your sensitive shaft, only making you drip even more.

What could you say. You were sensitive. Being your size made it pretty hard to find a partner who could keep up with you, or someone you wouldn’t hurt on accident. And as your fame grew, less and less individuals even wanted to give it a try.

That was why you were keening and whimpering in Whitebeards lap like some kind of virgin, at least that’s what you told yourself to keep your dignity.

It didn’t explain the way you jolted and spilled into his hand when Whitebeard grabbing your chin, turning your head so he could kiss you. Your eyes rolled back, and solar energy flashed across your body as you came, gasping into his mouth, your breath so hot It would have harmed anyone not as sturdy as Whitebeard.

With his lips still pressed against yours he mumbled praise, telling you stuff that had you melting even further into his embrace, hips still jolting and twitching into his hand like you didn’t want it to end.

As you rolled your hips you could feel his own erection, and you almost wanted to pass out from just how big he felt. You had never met anyone who was bigger than you in that way, yet here Whitebeard was, pretty much offering it to you on a silver platter.

The night was spent with Whitebeard wringing more than just a couple of orgasms out of you, at some point leaving you so overstimulated and pleasured that your body had phased out, turning into solar energy.

Whitebeard had cackled loudly at the sight, seeing how you were in so much pleasure you couldn’t even stay solid. When you finally came back to yourself, he placed a big kiss on your cheek and then your mouth, making some teasing comment about it all.

The next morning you couldn’t look his crew in the eye, the knowing looks boring into your large broad back, that for once was wearing a shirt, to cover most of the hickeys their captain had left on you.

And if you just so happened to turn down the job offer your informant gave you, and if you just so happened to attach your ship to their fleet, and you just so happened to start being referred to in the same parental way as Whitebeard, who would be the wiser.

You honestly had no idea how to react when Whitebeards, and you guessed now your, crew started referring to you with a fatherly title in the same way they called Whitebeard Pops. You hadn’t wanted to be open about your relationship with Whitebeard, but to the crew it was so damn obvious.

Even when you and Whitebeard became official, and maybe even married at some point, you still took jobs every now and then, never getting enough of the thrill of money. But it was a lot less, and you pretty much cut all contact with the world government.

Sure, that got you a bounty and a high reward, but you honestly couldn’t care. After all this time you realized, maybe a crew wasn’t so bad. It also helped to have a partner that made you feel safe and cared for, whilst also leaving you limping in the best possible way.

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phas3d · 7 months

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Roblox W/ Them || Slytherin Boys

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: doxxing, bullying,

contains :: draco, tom, mattheo, theodore, lorenzo

summary :: how they play roblox because no way they don't play 🐍 :: masterlist!

DRACO MALFOY

Grinds the shit out of every game he plays

He cannot enjoy a single game if he doesn't become rank 1 for at least one week

Really likes roleplay fighting games for some reason

Like Bloxy Fruit and stuff

Definitely wastes a ton of money on Robux and stupid stuff

He doesn't care that it's cheating, it lets him become #1 way faster

Doesn't really like tycoons and slow games

If he can't brag, how can he show off?

His character is SOOO try hard omfg

He definitely dresses in all black

1000% HAS RAGED AND BROKE HIS TABLE

Bought a new table after and took a break from Roblox for a week

TOM RIDDLE

Plays old people games like a grandpa

A fucking beast at Bingo

Even though it's completely luck base, he wins 9/10 times

Always has like 6+ bingo cards and can easily keep up with it

Plays tycoons every once in a while

But he likes the ones where you just press a button and it's auto built, doesn't like building stuff on his own

Like, he hates restaurant tycoon and rollercoaster tycoon

Never ever spends his money on Robux, he thinks it’s cheating

His avatar is the default one too with maybe some clothes he unlocked

Bullies the shit out of little kids on roblox for no damn reason

He could have 15 missing assignments and still find time to log on and dox some 12 year old

Whenever someone beats him at Bingo he finds their mom and dad's name and then private chat's them it

Takes everything so deep for no reason

Get this man to try weed or smth man he needs a new hobby

MATTHEO RIDDLE

This man has tried every single genre of games and has beaten almost everything

He's who Draco wants to be

Definitely spent way too much money on Robux for no reason

He has the headless stuff and almost every rare item ever

Has like 20k followers as well for some reason

Grinding never stops so he literally STOLE someone's house elf and makes the elf play Roblox all day

But the elf actually likes it and has fun playing it :) So it's cute

He ends up sharing his account with the elf and they become kinda like besties, but more so Matt sees him as a little brother

1000% like Tom he bullies little kids

He insults people's outfits, rates their little drawings and outfits super low, and straight up annoys them in any form possible

Sometimes he joins tycoons that have swords, doesn't even start his own tycoon, and just uses robux to get a sword and kill people

His daily mission is to annoy as many people as possible

Even worse is that he's not scared of getting hacked or doxxed because Tom made SURE that would never happen

Sometimes Matt even joins Tom's boring games but he leaves mid way cause he starts to fall asleep

Super fun to play with and will carry you 100%

THEODORE NOTT

This man, oh my god this man is so guilty of so much

He's one of those people who pretend to be a different gender online for benefits LOL

But not people he actually is transgender or nonbinary, but because he wants to do girly things without being judged

Always plays fashion games and WINS?!???

Even when the votes are super duper rigged, he always wins in the end

Plays a bunch of family roleplay games too as a mother of like 5 kids

Starts fake drama for fun, like favoriting one kid but ignore the other

OR he plays as a teenage girl and runs away LMAO

But his favorite game is definately Total Drama Island

This man will stay on the game for like 2 hours just to win

Super good at parkour and aim since he also plays shooting games besides Roblox, like Apex and Valorant (ewwww)

When he plays with the guys, they mock him for his girly ass avatar but he doesn't care at all

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

Likes more calm games but is up to anything

Grinds tycoons a lot, like resturant tycoon and rollarcoaster tycoon

Sometimes he plays with Mattheo but they're so different

Matt finishes his level in like 2 mintues and Enzo takes an hour

Sucks at parkour, avoids it like the plague

Super bad aim as well, literally dies first every time

He likes playing with Theo a lot more since they can vibe and play a chill game

He really likes story tell games too which is fun

LOVES the games that aren't super roblox-y which is kinda cheating

Like he used to play the old Roblox Pokemon game daily until it got shut down :(

Plays those family games too like Bloxsburg and stuff

Is actually a good kid

BUT,,, he has his name has "Enzo (17) Cute, Smart, 6 feet tall, athletic, depressed"

thank you for reading ! 🐍 :: masterlist!

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logansargey · 3 months

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Nico/Jenson being Logan's parents headcannons

To the anon who asked me to do this, I'm sorry I lost your question and that it took me so long. Hopefully you find this well.😭

Logan grew up keeping it a secret so people wouldn't think they're the reason he got into F1

He grew up speaking all the languages they taught him, but no one knows he speaks them.

He loves when people say he looks like Nico because he thinks his dad is pretty.

He celebrates mother's day with Nico and Father's day with Jenson (it started as a joke but now they've continuously done it)

When Logan got into his first kart, both his dad's cried.

Logan accidentally called Nico 'dad' in front of Lewis once and it's been awkward ever since

He cried in Jenson's arms when he won his first race.

Nico was weary of Logan making close friends in karting (war flashbacks ifykyk)

Nico and Jenson have had arguments with multiple people because they've talked about Logan's driving rudely.

Logan ignored Nico for a whole week after Nico told him that the tooth fairy wasn't real.

He then ignored Jenson for two weeks after Jenson told him that Santa wasn't real

Jenson calls Nico and Logan his blonde brats (neither of them like it but Jenson thinks it's funny)

Jenson tells the worst dad jokes in history and Logan stares at him. (He actually thinks they're funny but will never admit that)

Logan calls Nico 'Brittany' sometimes just to piss him off.

One time, a girl Logan was going out with called Jenson a dilf one, bc she didn't know he was his dad, and Logan almost threw up.

Jenson and Nico lost Logan at a race once when he was a kid and sent security out to find him. Logan was just sneaking food in the Mercedes garage.

Logan's favorite uncle is Sebastian.

Logan once hid Jenson's glasses from him because Nico told Jenson that he looked hot in them

When people ask Logan about his family, he stares at them like an owl until they go away.

Jenson took Logan fishing because, yk, 'American culture' and he found out he loved doing it with him

When Logan was younger, he used to hit Jenson every time he hugged or kissed Nico because "He's my dad, get away from him"

Little Logan was clingy to Nico which made Jenson a little jealous

Logan loved being carried by his dads when he was younger. But he preferred to be carried on Nico's hip and for Jenson to carry him on his back.

Logan used to take naps in the weirdest places and they've lost him many times because of it.

Jenson used to peel all Logan's fruits for him. He still does whenever he can get the chance.

Jenson and Logan once tried to make Nico breakfast but it ended with the smoke detector going off and about two ruined pans. Nico wouldn't let them in the kitchen for weeks afterwards.

Nico used to carry Logan everywhere and actually cried when he realized Logan was getting too big for him to do it anymore.

Jenson taught Logan how to ride a bike, but not without a busted knee and Nico smacking him upside the head for it.

They absolutely adore Logan's accent and the way he pronounces certain words

They make him say big words just to hear it in his accent.

Logan still naps in Nico's lap from time to time and Nico cries every time.

Logan used to sneak into his parents' room when he had a nightmare and would elbow Jenson in the ribs.

Nico had to comfort Jenson because he started bawling his eyes out when he found one of Logan's onesies from when he was a baby.

Logan still calls his dads some nights so they can talk him to sleep when he's having trouble.

Logan was one of those jealous kids that would get mad when he would see other kids around his dads.

Okay so this is the end but I'll probably make a pt2 with more young Logan and his dads because I have so many ideas.

#f1 #formula one rpf #nico rosberg #jenson button #jenson x nico #logan sargeant #headcanon #idk what else to tag #logan and his dads #lewis hamilton #princess cake

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honeytonedhottie · 3 months

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HONEYS IT GIRL MAGAZINE june edition⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀

welcome back to honeys it girl magazine, this is the june catalog. get ready for the inside scoop on data that i've collected, things i've learned/started doing, and just general info like that organized in kind of a teen-magazine inspired fashion. a magazine for it girls ✨ and now please enjoy, the it girl magazine.

LIFE UPDATE ;

as you may or may not have noticed, i've been hiatus for most of the month now. and i disappeared because of personal reasons, and one of those reasons being that i felt i needed to reflect. here are some things that i've learned and realized during my reflection time.

in that post i go into things that i went thru during the month of june and the reason behind my absence. something that i mentioned but failed to elaborate on in that post was what i plan to manifest next and i'll talk about it later on in the post.

FOR THE WELLNESS GIRLIES ;

this summer is a hot one, and one way that i've been getting my vegetable and fruit intake is through smoothies. smoothies and juices are perfect for the summer because they're SO refreshing so im going to talk about some smoothie recipes.

adriana limas smoothie recipe ; (1 cup cold water + 1/2 avocado + honey). candice swanepoels smoothie recipe ; (1 frozen banana + 1 cup blueberries + 1 tsp protein powder + 1 scoop collagen powder + 1 tbsp chia seeds + 2 tbsp almond butter + 1 tbsp spirulina + 1 1/2 cup coconut water)

smoothies make amazing breakfasts or just amazing drinks to have when ur craving a sweet drink. for me, i like to keep my smoothies simple and use ingredients like strawberry and banana, but lately i've been loving mango in my smoothies.

LETS TALK MANIFESTATION ;

because of my period of reflection i had time to focus on what i wanted to manifest next and i wanna manifest a trip to italy for the summer + other mini things within that trip.

i've already created a script for it, and im gonna start affirming for it on the first of july. im so so excited to go and share this with you guys...💬🎀 furthermore i wanted to share some manifestation reminders and posts that have been helping me so far.

ABOUT WAVERING

YOUR NOT A VICTIM, YOU NEVER WERE

HOW TO IGNORE THE 3D AND BE UNBOTHERED

PATRICIA NAVIDAD STYLE DISSECTION ;

patricia navidad in “la fea más bella” is an over the top, feminine queen who i absolutely adore. she was easily one of my favorite characters so ofc i wanted to make this editions style dissection about her.

she has beautiful blondish hair that is similar to and complements her skintone, making her look super put together and gorgeous. she wears jewelry that she coordinates together. but my favorite outfit of hers HAS to be the one shown above on the left.

if theres one thing patricia knows how to do is to make her outfits work for HER which is why i thought she'd be the perfect candidate for this months style dissection...💬🎀

in this outfit shes wearing a matching pink set, the shade of pink is very soft and matches beautifully with the white (what looks like a corset-ish top) underneath. the color coordination is superb and she makes the shirt pop more by only using one button beneath her bust which draws attention to her figure and the top underneath.

THE CRINGE STIGMA ;

to be a victim to the cringe stigma is to be caged in ur own mind bcuz ur so scared of what others may or may not think of you. lets talk about it. the way others perceive u isnt ur business. lets think about how many times that you've stopped urself from doing something that u rly wanted to do, or something that you've really loved because u were scared of what others might say? imagine all that wasted time and energy worrying?

its not ur responsibility to keep urself small or digestible for someone. u can't grow where ur comfortable so to grow u have to get uncomfortable even if that means being called cringe by others. bcuz when others call u cringe thats their own projection onto you and it rly doesnt matter. dont take someone else's judgement too personally and just enjoy yourself no matter what...💬🎀

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damagdsnow · 7 months

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Fix my reputation

Pairing: young!Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

Summary: You and Coryo are together for mutual benefits, he needs a well known woman by his side to look vulnerable and loving during the presidential elections and you need your reputation to be fixed after your unforgivable scandal.

Tag: fake dating, slow burn, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, manipulative/soft Snow, strong and independent reader (as she should), fluff, angst, power play, smut, fingering, thigh riding, switching sub/dom, degradation, denied orgasm, piv, dirty talk, overstimulation, oral (fem/male receiving), praise

Chapter 1, chapter 2;

aesthetic chapter one, aesthetic chapter two;

Tw: Snow being Snow, mention of alcohol, panic/anxiety attack, mention of blood, mention of parent death, physical aggression (not detailed and not from Snow)

Word count: 11.3k

note: before reading this I recommend you to read the first chapter here. Also, thank you so much for all the love and support on chapter one I didn’t expect all of this, I love you guys ❤️

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

The first time you had met Coriolanus was when Dr. Gaul had announced he was going to be her apprentice Gamemaker during the next Hunger Games.

At that time, you got a job as a health advisor, essentially you monitored tributes' vital signs and whether they were injured, you formulated unique medicine so mentors and sponsors could help their favorites heal faster and be a step ahead of the others. You were used to stitch wounds, examining patients, making prescriptions. This was a whole new thing to you. Dr. Gaul said to you that you were one of the most qualified doctors in that department, this is the reason why she pressured you to ‘amaze’ her.

”When I read your qualifications I was shocked to learn you were looking for employment,” was the first thing Dr. Gaul said to you when she requested to meet you.

You were in her laboratory, a bright room filled with gruesome creatures, dead and alive. She was standing in front of you, with her voluminous curly hair and her reddish long tunic, while she was feeding some sorta of genetically modified fish.

“I was looking for some thrilling experience,” you started fidgeting your fingers, “making me useful for the good of Panem.”

You practiced saying these words many times before meeting her, what were you supposed to say? That you desperately needed a job? That as soon as you found another position you would quit immediately?

”Your idea to formulate a drug that would help tributes in the arena?” With a long tweezer she dropped a pink cube in the small pool, ”so original,” she smiled while feeding the fishes with more cubes.

“You know what it means right? The games will last longer, people spending money on their helpless and injured tributes, mentors fighting to get the best sponsor,” she continued, her icy eyes were staring at you, “this is going to revolutionise the games.”

“I’m glad you liked my proposal,” you looked down, wondering if it was better to make eye contact with her or watch those horrific creatures with long fangs and thorny tails.

“Liked? I absolutely adore your way of thinking,” she put the tweezer back on a metal tray. “No one was able to surprise me since–” she paused and you looked back at her, ”do you know Coriolanus Snow? You two would get along well.”

At that time you wondered who he could be. Coriolanus Snow? His name sounded familiar to you. Only when Dr. Gaul introduced him to the department as an apprentice, you recognised his face.

You both graduated from the Academy, he was just a year older than you, and during the tenth annual Hunger Games his name was popular amongst students. Even though you went to the same school, you had never talked to him. Until a couple of months before the reaping, Dr. Gaul let you and other members work in her lab to do research. Of course he was there too, and chance had it that you were paired up with Coriolanus, sharing the same desk in the library section.

You could see him sitting opposite to you, his side was impressively tidy, just a black leather notepad and a book. Your half was full of microbiology volumes, agar plates and creased post-it. Coriolanus was too focused on his writing that he never gazed over you, on the other hand you were distracted by his presence. You remembered him differently in the Academy, his hair was slightly longer than before, his facial features were more defined, but the same cold aura surrounded him.

You felt kinda intimidated by him.

You’ve heard colleagues saying how brilliant he was: he won the Plinth prize in his senior year, he graduated with honors at advanced military strategies and he now had a high position as the right hand man of the pretentious Head Gamemaker.

He intrigued you.

You thought you were not the smartest person in the room. There was something in him, probably his confident behaviour while he was writing on his notebook, as if he was superior to you. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, you thought of ways to start a conversation, not a small talk, but something smart to impress him.

Your heart was beating fast and you finally figured what to say, “Mr. Snow I found a better technique for–“

“What makes you think you can talk to me?” He cut you off while still writing in his notebook.

His words stunned you. The conversation you imagined in your head was now gone, what could you say at this point? “I just wanted–” you stuttered

“Don’t bother, I don’t want to know.”

Your admiration for him slowly faded each day. The way he corrected you every time you had a proposal, pointing out your mistakes in front of everyone, or when he made you work till night in the laboratory to perfectionate your research. You tolerated that, you were used to hard work and mean teachers in your university years, but sometimes he didn’t even show the slightest remorse on things he would say about the districts. About you, indirectly.

Every year on reaping day you thought that it could have been you. Your name in that little piece of paper, read out loud changing your destiny. If it wasn’t for your father’s role in the Dark Days, you could have been in that arena yourself, instead of having the privilege to control tributes’ lives in a cozy chair.

Your dad was an engineer, more a genius mastermind who designed and built high tech weapons. Specifically incendiary bombs, which were crucial to stop the rebels from invading the Capitol during the last year of the war. The project was so successful that he obtained an honorary medal from President Ravenstill himself. He was able to buy a place in the Capitol, for the only purpose to give you and your sister a better future, and you actually lived in luxury compared to your old life back in the districts. However, your father did not side with the president’s political view, still he had to conform to it or he would probably be considered a rebel.

He played the game, to stay alive. Until he was not part of that show anymore.

“I only did it for you and Darla, I don’t care about heavens or hell. As long as my family is safe, I regret nothing of the atrocities I’ve done,” were the words your father wrote to you in a letter, before being killed.

They had never been clear about the dynamics of his homicide, but you were sure it was not an incident as someone would say. The Capitol killed him, they took your dad away from you, the only person you admired, that never let you down.

Your blood was from the districts, even if you’ve lived all your life in the Capitol, you couldn’t change your origins. Coriolanus reminded you of that, with his despicable comments about how ‘horrible and disgusting’ the people from the districts were. As if you didn’t exist to him, you were not a person from his perspective. But he did not know that, no one knew you were not from the Capitol, it was only written on your official documents.

“The games are meant to remind us all who we truly are,” was something Coriolanus often said, bullshit you thought, for you the Games were an insult to humanity and civilisation, cruel entertainment for empty people.

Coriolanus Snow, such a brilliant mind but wicked thoughts.

At the same time, you were not better than him. You worked for the Head Gamemaker and indirectly supported the unnatural destiny of those children. It was easier blaming the government, the bad guys, than admitting to be part of the corrupted system you truly despised. Your excuse was that you had no choice, and partially it was true, but can money win over your beliefs? Were you so desperate to bend your morality just not to be jobless and not respectable? You were acting as your father: were you a fighter or survivor?

Little did you know that your worst nightmares were going to haunt you soon. After the incident you were unemployed, with a bad reputation and with a man you hated.

Check, check, check.

You woke up at lunch time for the third day in a row, it was like being a child again. But there wasn’t your mom taking care of you, your dad making your favorite dish or your big sister spoiling you with presents. You couldn’t ignore your responsibilities and let the adults do the big things for you. You were the adult now, but if you kept self destroying your life this way, it was like everything you’ve done vanished away. Giving up was not an option, or to put things clear, it was the easier possibility amongst the other challenging beginnings.

One of these included him.

Coriolanus was not a beginning, he was more like someone you bump into when you are in a rush, someone who wasn’t supposed to be there but that let you miss the train, made you change your destination. However, the end of the journey was a mystery, with him nothing was clear from the start.

The gala was proof that you couldn’t handle that world, it felt like everything you did made your situation in a much worse position. If it wasn’t for Coriolanus, you would’ve busted into tears on live tv, he was used to that world, lying so naturally that he convinced them.

Cameras, flashes, interviews. Not exactly what you have been preparing for all your life.

You didn’t want to remember what happened that night. Your mind replayed memories as if it was a film, but you were trying to stop it. The dancing? The photographers?

No, the kiss.

The thought of his hands on your skin, his hair on your hands, his lips against yours. The more you pushed that image away, the less it faded from your mind. How could you let him do something like that? You knew that letting him in again would only bring more chaos into your life, but at the same time, you needed to fix your mess and he was your solution.

Also, you didn’t want to acknowledge that all the attention was something you needed. Not the bad press, the misleading articles and intrusive photographers. It was the care for you, the way he defended you, the warmth you didn’t feel in a long time. You knew it was fake, just a facade, but that pretending was healing an empty spot you have been hiding for ages.

When you checked your mail, you recognised the reddish envelope. It was from Snow manor.

"Be ready at 7 pm, someone is going to pick you up.’ signed by Iris Davebonn.

Of course it was not over.

He had a plan, and he didn’t give up easily. You also had a plan, he was not the only one with something to prove, but was he the only way out to your hell? Or was he another villain in your tragedy? You had nothing to lose but everything to gain.

Coriolanus is the forbidden apple, the fruit I shall never be tempted to desire.

You opened the fridge, still sleepy but hungry. For your breakfast you had a couple of options: water and rotten eggs or rotten eggs and water. So as always you decided to steal from your neighbor’s tangerines tree, you could easily pick the fruits from your window, the advantages of living on the first floor. You knew that the old lady next door noticed your thefts, but she hated you either way so at least you gave her a reason to. Since you didn’t have a monthly paycheck anymore, you had to live with your remaining savings, but soon you were left with nothing with bills and rent to pay.

Actually, Dr. Gaul never fired you, she wasn’t as upset as Capitol people, she even congratulated you because this way The Hunger Games were discussed more on tv and newspapers. For her, the incident was a perfect strategy to make the Games popular. She even thought you did that intentionally, because in her distorted view,”it was funny seeing their faces when for the first time, a 12 years old boy from district eleven won”. Against all odds, the unknown tribute without sponsors and hope to make it alive, won the games because “I killed everybody else.”

Not as funny as she thought.

Eventually, you couldn't handle the pressure anymore and you quit. The last time you saw her she persuaded you to be by her side the next year, “if you did that by accident, I wonder what you could do purposely.” You never considered that offer, you didn’t have to work there in the first place. If only you could go back, maybe… Maybe, everything would’ve gone differently.

The world fell apart when you heard the sound of cannon in that room. Everybody was cheering for that girl from district two, the favorite, the one that won Capitol’s heart during the interviews. The lovely Rea, the brave tribute that was bit by an horrific dog. That creature cannot be defined as a ‘dog’, more like a venomous lion with a crocodile mouth. Your role was to make a medicine that could heal her wound. Sponsors asked it, her mentor was willing to pay whatever price to save her, the Capitol was betting every penny on her.

The pressure was such that you mistakenly switched two drugs and gave her the other for the boy from District three. Fatal mistake.

You were their only hope but you became the death of them.

Relying on somebody else was the last thing you wanted, especially if it was Coriolanus Snow. You didn’t want to need him. But there you go, on your way to his house. Again.

An avox opened the door for you and silently you followed her to the living room. Iris and Coriolanus were both standing near a star shaped glass table surrounded by small couches, you wondered what their conversation was about because they stopped talking the moment you walked in.

“Speaking of the devil,” Coriolanus said looking at you, he was wearing a white shirt and black pants, his hair was messy as if he woke up a couple of minutes ago.

”There she is,” Iris stepped towards you, opening her arms, “the new star of Panem,” she hugged you like you were an old friend she hadn’t seen in a while, it didn’t feel as awkward as you thought, it felt sincere.

”I think you meant a fallen star,” you laughed hugging her back.

”Honey, the gala was a success!” She said with a warm smile.

You perceived his blue eyes gazing at you, the same look he gave you when you were walking with him arm by arm at the gala.

Why is he staring? Am I wearing something inappropriate? Or is it just the indecipherable look he always has?

“Did you read the newspaper?” Iris pointed at the glass table in front of you but you were distracted by a bowl full of pastries to even pay attention to her.

You leaned forward to read the page but your sight was too blurry. The tangerines were the only thing you ate since this morning, not really an energetic meal. You sat on the small couch and you put the newspaper close to your face, nose almost touching the page, squinting to have a better view.

“Are you blind?” Coriolanus said with an annoyed tone, he tore away the paper from your hands.

”I don’t have my glasses with me,” you lied, you have never worn glasses in your entire life.

You rubbed your temples trying to see clearly again and you swiftly took what seemed to be a pink cookie from the tray on the table. What flavour was that? You tried to make a straight face while chewing that sugary stuff, at least your body was eating something.

“To make things short— they think we are the couple of the moment,” Coriolanus started while reading the page, “that everybody was shocked— bla bla,” he rapidly said, “oh and they mentioned my name four times!”

“No, Mr. Snow, if you have to do something you have to do it right,” Iris intervened, taking the newspaper from his hands.

She sat down on the couch near yours and started reciting the article, reading word by word.

“Is love in the air? In Capitol City probably is.” She read the first line,“what a great title isn’t it?” Iris commented

“Go on or we are going to stay here all night,” Coriolanus said.

You looked at him, he was standing up making you feel inferior, like a shadow looming over you.

“After the unsettling events happened in the last Hunger Games, there is finally some hope in our community. The aspiring president Coriolanus Snow showed up with someone not-so-new in the latest gala before the presidential campaign.”

“ ‘not so new’ so kind of them—” you said and he shushed you. How dare he?

“She studied medicine and has worked with the Head Gamemaker for the past year. Rumor has it that for some kind of incident, she was the cause of the premature death of two tributes.”

Iris took a breath. “Unexpectedly, last night Coriolanus proudly walked with her for the very first time in public. Both dressed in white, representing the noble Snow name, they conquered the attention of the media and the crowd. Are they the couple of the moment?” She smiled while looking at you, “the best part is about to come.”

“If we are basing the answers on the way they look at each other, they definitely stole our hearts. We are looking forward to seeing how this unexpected love will grow.”

You laughed, that was too corny for you, was it possible that they truly believed that little show you made?

”Will Coriolanus Snow win the election the same way he won her heart? Right now we are in love with both of them.” Iris finished.

“Did they really write an article about our possible love story?” You took another cookie, green this time, “they really are bored people.”

”You should be happy they didn’t talk about what happened in the arena,” Coriolanus said but you couldn’t see him, he was standing behind you.

“Well, they mentioned it anyway,” you said while chewing that lemon pastry, or was it mint? For a moment you thought it was better starving than eating whatever thing it was.

”Thanks to me they probably will give you a chance,” he said.

”The tone they used– it was like they think you are doing charity by being with me.”

“Well it kinda is–”

”Oh shut up,” you stand up, turning to him, “your name has never been this many times in a newspaper.” You were close to him, and even if you were not sitting anymore, you felt small standing there facing him.

His eyes were still examining you, as if you were a book written in a language he couldn’t read.

“You two look like siblings fighting over meaningless things,” Iris said, stepping in, getting in the middle of you.

“See? Even Iris thinks you are being overly dramatic.”

You fought the urge to answer back, did he just call you over-dramatic?

“Honey, look who's talking,” Iris said pointing a finger at him, “you are not really easy to work with,” then she turned over to you, “in just one day people fell for your fairytale, imagine what you can do in a month.”

“Do you really think this can work?” You avoided looking at him behind her shoulder.

“They don’t care about what you did, you are just another distraction from their empty life,” she explained to you, “they need something else to talk about.”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, there are more important things,” Coriolanus said, “such as the presidential elections.”

”Is there something else you can say instead of politics and fame?”

��What do you want me to tell you? My sad story about when I mixed some drugs in the laboratory?” He stepped closer, ”oh no, that is something you always talk about.”

”I liked you better when you ignored me,” you said remembering the first time you tried to have a conversation with him.

“Stop please,” Iris said, “you two should bond more, this atmosphere is making me wanna retire early,” she touched her hair, orange this time, “maybe you will like each other.” She walked away from your sight.

“It's going to be tiring enough pretending to like him in public,” now there was just the glass table separating you from him.

“So this is a yes, you are going to do this,” his face lightened up.

“It seems this charade it’s working,” you said convincing yourself that was your best chance of getting your reputation back.

Did you just sign a pact with the devil?

He is the forbidden apple. But it doesn’t mean I can’t just play with it.

“Before I forget,” you heard Iris voice coming from the door entrance, “next week dinner with the Holdens and Suncots,” she was putting her yellow coat on, “they gladly accepted the invite here,” then she put her gloves on, “see you tomorrow—oh and try to bond you two,” she pointed a finger at him before closing the door and leaving you alone with Coriolanus.

You looked at the clock above the coat hanger and it was getting late, but you had nowhere else to be at that moment. No one waiting for you at home, no one expecting your call, nothing to do the next day.

“Tigris is going to design another dress for you,” he said referring to the dinner.

“Can’t I just wear something I already have?” The thought of him deciding what color and style your dress had was not something you tolerated.

“Of course not— do you dine here or?” That didn’t sound like an invite, more as if he was suggesting you go home.

“So kind, I’ll pass,” you said with a sarcastic tone.

”I asked because you almost devoured the entire jar of pastries.” He smiled, waiting for your reaction.

”For the record, they are tasteless.”

He rolled his eyes, “the car is waiting for you outside,” he turned his back and walked towards the kitchen.

”I can walk, I don’t need your personal driver,”

Your words stopped him right in his tracks, ”what if you get lost? How could I do without you?” He said jokingly, turning over to see you, “and it’s fifteen minutes away, in the dark— don’t be a child and go by car, you’ll get used to it.”

You didn’t answer, not like you had something to say. Of course you would’ve accepted the ride, your apartment was too far from his house, you just wanted to irritate him. Maybe you were not so different from Coriolanus, you were playing the same game.

Car rides make you recall only good memories. Your dad got a car when you were little, it was gray and smaller than this one, and he used to drive you to school everyday. Until you got into university and you moved to your current house, it was ten minutes from university so you got used to walking.

The engine stopped and you stepped out of the car, it was cold outside and you wished you had heating at home, a luxury you couldn’t afford anymore.

You fumbled with the keys trying to open the door, you were freezing and you rushed because you heard some steps. You didn’t want to have a conversation with your neighbor, she’ll probably just scold you about the stolen tangerines and how loud you shut the door when you go out, the old same story. You finally walked inside but someone blocked you from closing the door. It was a young man, probably in his thirties, he had a tiny recorder on his hand and you immediately clicked.

“Hi, I’m from Capitol’s People Magazine, I wanted to ask you some questions about your relationship with Coriolanus Snow,” he said pointing you to the black device.

”I’m sorry— for interviews, talk to my manager,” you said with a kind tone.

Iris suggested that every time journalists asked you questions you did not want to answer, you had to say those words, and now was the case. You slowly closed the door but the man put his feet in between.

”How could the heir of one of the most influential figures be with a corrupted woman like you?” He looked at you with eyes full of anger.

Corrupted woman, this was new to you. What was the correct answer to that?

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled while trying to close the door by pushing it against his feet but he was not intending to leave you alone.

He aggressively tried to wedge his foot into the door, forcing it to stay open while he continued to badger you with invasive questions about the gala.

”Are you planning on ruining his image while stealing his money?” He reached your arm and grabbed it.

“What’s wrong with you?” His grip was getting tighter as you tried shoving him.

He was strong enough to smash the door open, stepping inside your house. With his hand on your wrist, he roughly pushed your body against the wall, your back facing him as he stood behind you, your heart pounding outside your chest.

“You are just a crazy bitch,” he whispered, “you think you can fool them but are a disgrace for Panem,” he pushed your head against the wall, one side of your face hitting the coarse plaster making your skin burn.

“Get off me! ” you shouted, struggling against his grip.

In response he hit your head again against the wall. You squinted your eyes in pain as a tear streamed down your face, you felt powerless, everything happened so fast.

“Tell me what you want from me,” you said with a weak voice.

“After all you did, you should shut the fuck up and do what you are asked to do,” he put his hand on your scalp as he pushed you harder against the wall.

You screamed like you never did in your entire life, someone had to hear your cry for help, right? But he was quick to cover your mouth with his palm and that was the perfect occasion for you to bite his skin. He kept his hand on your mouth while he choked on his own screams.

Your muffled howl echoed in the room but no one seemed to hear you. Or so you thought. Someone grabbed the man from his collar and pushed him away from you. It was the driver, his tall figure was now beant down to beat that man. You were paralyzed, now your back was against the wall and your lungs finally breathing, but your body was unable to answer your brain’s orders.

”Run!” The driver screamed at you while punching the man one more time, “go in the car! Run!”

You ran towards the car but your legs felt weak and your head too heavy. You opened the car door and you laid down in the back seats. What the hell just happened?

What if he came back? What if next time there is not someone to save you? Your anxiety grew inside your chest and you kept yourself from crying.

“Are you okay, Miss?” The driver asked breathlessly as he violently closed the front car door with a rush, “should I take you to the hospital?” He was looking at you, he had an old scar on his cheek that you didn’t notice before.

You shook your head, “I just need water” you mouthed, trying to maintain a regular breathing.

“Thank you for saving me,” you whispered.

You looked at him through the rearview mirror, his eyes reflecting the street lights while he was driving as if nothing happened, as if his bloody knuckles on the steering wheel were not hurting.

After minutes that seemed hours he talked, “It is my duty,” he said, “Mr. Snow wouldn’t have forgiven me.”

Coriolanus was in his study preparing a speech for the next interview, he had to be careful to pick the perfect words, to speak with the right tone, and to make the adequate facial expressions. Nothing was left to case. Every single action had to be meticulously studied and calculated.

It was his specialty. Playing with words and making people fall in love with his charm. He did it naturally, molding people the shape he wanted. Because he had to have everything under his control, his power, his eyes.

For the first time he was struggling. He was stuck on the opening line and he didn’t know how to continue. Sleepless nights and alcohol were the usual in the past week. This was one of the nights. Locked in his study until he wrote something of that speech, depriving himself from sleep.

Coriolanus was walking around the room, fidgeting with a pen on his long fingers. Until his mind-wandering was stopped by a firm knock on the door, annoyed it could be an Avox, he ignored it. But the knocking didn’t stop.

He let out a sigh as he unlocked the doorknob, “how many times do I have to tell–” to his surprise, the driver showed up at his door, “Virma, what are you doing here?”

Coriolanus soon found the answer to his question by looking over the driver’ shoulder. You were hidden behind his back, like a hurt animal scared of its fate. You didn’t want to come here, like a lost child brought back home. But where were you supposed to be? What place instead of his?

Your ruffled hair, your smeared makeup and your empty look. It didn’t take long for him to understand something happened. A sense of anger grew inside of him. This was not written in a script, it was not meant to happen and when things did not go according to plan, Coriolanus lost his composure, he could have been unpredictable.

His face darkened. He grabbed your arm and he dragged you in his study, along with Virma. You felt his hand on your wrist, his touch was something familiar to you, maybe gentle, as if he was actually worried about you. He pushed Virma to the side and closed the door behind him, casting you both in the dim light of his opulent study.

You were now facing him, his expression was different from an hour ago. His hand traveled to your face, his fingers lifting your chin as he leaned to have a better view of you. The left side of your face was scraped, fresh cuts burned on your temple as droplets of blood trailed your skin. Coriolanus traced his fingertips on your bruised skin and you flinched, instantly regretting the movement as a flash of pain shot through your head, but he was not rough like that man. He loosened his grip on your arm, his eyes softening as he took in the sight of your injuries. He was delicate, as if he was touching something fragile.

You were too focused on his expression to even pay attention to your sore skin. His knitted brows, his parted lips and his concerned look.

“Who did this to you?” His voice barely above a whisper, he glared down at you as he inspected your figure, as if he was looking for other scratches he missed.

You could almost feel the tension radiating from him.

His hand was now on your neck, fingers touching the back of your head, “a journalist, I don’t–” you looked down, “he was asking questions but I–"

“Mr. Snow, I think I know who he is ,” the driver said and for a moment you forgot he was in that room, “he is Lucius Cliffhard' son.”

"Cliffhard' son? The father is running for president why would he–” Coriolanus didn’t finish his sentence and he looked back at you, “thank you for your service Virma,” his hand left your neck leaving a warm spot, “we will talk about it later.”

You heard the door closing and now you were left alone with him. You could barely stand up, your adrenaline was leaving your body and your anxiety was taking its place.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” he walked towards the opposite side of the room, looking for something in the small bathroom of his study.

You were standing in the shiny black floor, your heart was pounding so loud you could not hear your weak voice, “he probably was waiting for me to come home because the moment I opened the door he uhm—“ you stuttered, "started asking questions but I didn't answer, so he pushed me against the wall and his hand was on my mouth—“ you paused, ”he hit my head and—“ you felt a lump on your throat and you hoped he didn’t hear you.

His steps were again echoing the room, his figure walking closer to you. He had a piece of cotton wool in his hands and without a notice he held it against your scratches by cupping your face with his other hand. It was burning your skin, his fingertips were slightly brushing your neck while he dabbed gently the cotton to clean the wounds on your temple.

”Continue talking,” he said nonchalantly as he tilted your head to have a better view of tour left side of the face.

You stopped breathing in that moment, maybe because of the nauseating smell of the disinfectant or maybe it was because he was inches away from you, his focused look on the bleeding cut, “I think he just wanted to scare me,” you managed to say in a steady tone.

The blonde snapped his head at you, his blue eyes now on yours, “he is a psychopath,” his scent reminded you of that night at the gala, “he hit you because you didn't want to be interviewed, he could've killed you."

You reached his hand where he was pressing the cotton wool and for a moment your fingers brushed before he removed his hands from your skin. “you are exaggerating– he just needs help, ” you said.

Coriolanus closed his eyes, he clenched his fists and the knuckles turned white. He walked towards the desk and he poured himself a drink, taking a long burning sip. You watched him in silence as you inspected the reddish cotton on your hands.

“Do you trust him so much you want to come back to your house?” He was behind his desk, arms resting above the chair, “I told you, here you could have been safer from the media,” he raised his voice, “but you are stubborn, you risked your life and– if it wasn’t for Virma who knows what could have happened,” he said nervously while pouring himself a drink.

“So now it’s my fault?” You bawled at him.

“You don’t understand that now whatever happens to you affects me,” he said, “what are they going to say when they see your bruises and god forbid— he writes an article saying who knows what lies of what happened.”

“See? You don’t care about my safety, you only care about what they think,” you stepped closer to him because he wasn’t even looking at you, “you want me as your puppet, so you can have me under your control— your house, your peacekeepers, your scripts— it’s all part of your plan,” you said.

”You are free to go back to your pathetic life if that’s what you want," he took a sip of his drink, still looking down, “I can’t save you from yourself, after all– you were miserable before and now too,” it was like venom coming from his lips.

A tear streamed down your face, “this is what I hate about you,” you scoffed, “you are a selfish and heartless man, I was right from the start.”

You have called him only good names: uncaring, unaffectionate, disrespectful, selfish and heartless. The list was getting longer.

“What did you expect? I thought it was going to be easier with you but you are getting on my nerves,” he stood up walking towards you, “you should be grateful— but no, you like acting so superior to me,” his chest was getting closer to you.

You scoffed, “why? Who are you?” You looked up at him through your lashes, “just a rich spoiled kid who is playing at being the next president of Panem.”

“And you fucking need me,” he said against your cheek, “this is why you didn’t leave, you don’t want to admit that without this ‘heartless man’ standing in front of you who knows where you could be right now,” his eyes were consuming you.

”Look who's talking,” you pointed a finger at him, “the Capitol's favorite toy who needs a ‘miserable girl’ to make him popular.”

Coriolanus placed his free hand on your wrist, squeezing it lightly, “you like this am I right?” He licked his lips, “talking back at me, uh?”

His nose was touching yours, his grip was burning your skin and you could feel his hot breath mixing with yours. The blonde was dangerously close to you, but you missed that feeling. Have you already erased what he has said to you? Was he so powerful to make you fall for his spell?

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

His lips brushed yours, memories flooding back to you. You didn’t know if he was about to bite you or kiss you. It would have hurt you either way.

“Tell an Avox to prepare your room,” he said, “or freeze in the streets, I don’t care— your choice.” Coriolanus let your arm go and he walked away from your sight.

It started to be just for show but the backstage was even worse than the real life. At the same time you could not give up on this play, you had to change your rules, your morals, to keep being with him.

So you were alone in the dark in the hallway, thinking about running away or staying.

Coriolanus could not win this way, you hated to admit you still needed his presence to fix your reputation. The darkness seemed to swallow you as you hesitated, torn between your principles and the pull of his influence. He had too much power right now, but you were willing to wait, by making things your own terms.

As you stood there, unwilling to give in to his manipulations, the lingering memory of his touch warred with the sharpness of his words. You slammed the door shut for him to hear you, he would have to do better to get you away from him.

Coriolanus could have touched your face as if you were the rarest creature on earth but the same lips once brushed yours, could tell the most hurtful things to you.

But you did that too. You were both craving the same sin. But too proud to admit on your faces.

“Is everything okay now?” You were in Tigris room, a colorful space barely illuminated by the outside light. It was in the basement, not really a cozy place to work.

You were talking about the aggression that happened a couple of days ago, nothing you wanted to recall actually, especially your conversation with Coriolanus, but you didn’t tell her that.

”Yes, the bruises are healing over,” you answered, touching your temple.

Tigris smiled at you while taking your measurements. She didn’t look like her cousin, apart from the blonde hair, she was pure and kind hearted. Why was an angel like her on earth with people like you? Like him?

“Why are we doing this again?” You asked “Didn’t you already have my measurements?”

You were standing on a stool, only wearing your undergarments while Tigris was putting the tape measure around your chest.

”Coryo sent me a note telling me that last time the dress was a little loose,” that was the last thing you could ever expect to hear from her, because it was in fact true, he noticed that.

“He did what?”

“I know, I was surprised too,” she smiled, “anyway, I read the newspaper.”

Oh no, you didn’t want to talk about that too.

“You two look great in the picture,” she handed you a wrinkled page where you could see a black and white photo of you and Coriolanus at the gala, he was looking at you while holding your waist.

You didn’t know about the existence of that picture until now. That night you were too starved to even pay attention to the newspaper, how could you miss that?

“It was so strange seeing him with a woman,” she commented while looking for some fabric.

“What do you mean? Has he ever had a girlfriend?” You knew the answer to that question but you wanted to hear from her.

“More like ‘girls’ than ‘girlfriends’, ” she laughed, “I’ve never met one of them,” Tigris wrapped a red cloth around your waist.

“Well, not that I’m special,” you looked at the mirror in front of you, “it’s just a stupid show.”

“What a shame,” she folded the excess fabric on your side and put a needle, “I liked you,” Tigris whispered.

You wished you could do something for her, she deserved more than a molded little room and a cousin like Coriolanus.

“So we are seeing each other more often, am I right?” she broke the awkward silence.

“Yes, Iris forced me to stay in this house,” Iris was really in apprehension when she saw your bruises, she lectured you on how people are vicious and in your ‘situation’ it was better not risking more.

“How lucky, aren’t I?” You added.

“I know my cousin can be– difficult to understand but,” she walked behind you, “there are some things that brought him to be this way,” her fingers tighten the fabric on your back, “and of course he’s not a saint, he just needs something– someone perhaps, to make him remember who he really is.”

“I can’t fix him,” you glanced at her reflection in the mirror, “I’m broken as much as he is and– we are incompatible.”

“As the sun and the moon?”

“Maybe.”

The comparison did fit well.

One is the star planets gravitate around, the only source of light at the center of the solar system. The moon is a small satellite whose only purpose is to spin around the earth, showing only one face and depending only on the planet's gravitational field.

Coriolanus wanted to appear like the sun, bright and powerful but he only displayed one face like the moon. You felt small, needing for something to orbit around as the moon did, but you didn’t know how radiant and capable you actually were, exactly like the sun.

Since you moved in his house, nights were longer than the others. It was getting harder to fall asleep because of your intrusive thoughts keeping you awake.

Is the door locked? Am I safe here?

The positive side was that your new room was probably bigger than your whole apartment. Then, you were not freezing anymore and you were finally eating food, not stolen fruit and smelly milk.

Even though you were living in his house, you tried avoiding his presence: by not having lunch the same hour as him, by going out your room only when you heard his door locking or having your usual meetings with Iris before him. That was your way of saying that he could not control your life, especially when he treated you the way he did.

However, that was still his house.

Red silky bed sheets, roses scent, his gold engraved initials on objects.

Coriolanus was not easy to forget. It was as if he had poisoned the air you were breathing, everything reminding you of him. The good and the bad. You promised yourself to not be tempted anymore, he was mercilessly manipulating you into believing he was the person he wanted to appear at the Capitol. But other than his mesmerizing eyes, his golden curls and delicate hands, there was another man hiding in his shadow. You had to picture that side of him every time he teased you, or you could be a sinner.

You were laying on the bed, leafing through the pages of the brand new script it was sent to your room. This was even worse than the other. Not only you had to remember some political matters regarding the current campaign, but you had to pretend again how good of a man Coriolanus was. How he supported and cared for you and how bright your plans as a couple were.

“I was extremely lucky to meet him, he is the sun to my dark days,” what an irony, “I am looking forward to living this exquisite love fully by his side.”

So cheesy for what?

“You can’t avoid me forever.”

You heard a muffled voice coming from the hallway, you walked towards the door but you didn’t answer. It was him of course, after the bad there was the good. He surprisingly tried talking with you on other occasions, but you had walked away before he could even finish his sentence, running away was easier, or god knows what you could’ve done.

“I can hear your heavy breathing,” he said close to the door, “open the door or I will,” he was waiting for your response, thinking about what he could say to get your attention. “Please?” Good manners are always the right answer, right? Right?

You let out a sight as you unlocked the door. Coriolanus was standing close to the room’s entrance, his arm was leaning against the wooden jamb and you noticed he was wearing his coat, as if he was about to go out.

“Oh so you’re alive,” he said, “I was worried about you.”

You couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but it didn’t matter either way. Right?

“What do you want?” You were still holding the doorknob, not letting him step inside the room.

“Come with me, we have to go somewhere,” he said with a rush in his tone.

“I kindly refuse your invitation,” you were about to close the door but he put his hand in between. I could squash his fingers, you thought, nothing he could not recover from.

Coriolanus rolled his eyes, “sooner or later you will have to pretend to like me,” his face was partially illuminated by your room light, making his eyes brighter.

You looked at his long fingers keeping the door open, he had his usual shiny ring on his index finger and for a moment you thought you could really squash his hand, “I think it’s better we have less interactions possible apart from the social events.”

“It’s been days since people saw us together, yesterday they asked about you at the debate,” he hissed, “see? Instead of asking about my political project they were– nevermind, just come with me.” His eyes were begging you, such a satisfying image.

“I’m not dressed up, what a pity,” you said mockingly.

He peeked at your figure, “you’re fine.”

You did not feel fine. You weren’t even wearing your clothes, you did not had the chance to pack up your things from your apartment and you had to ask Tigris for some piece of clothing that could fit you. She gave you some of her designs, a green matcha wool skirt matched with a cotton white top. At least you were about to wear pretty clothings, not your old unironed shirts.

“Just for show,” you said while grabbing a jacket.

“Just for show,” he echoed.

You realised that in this game of power and appearances, keeping your distance wasn't an option anymore. You knew that you were now entwined in a dangerous dance with Coriolanus, one that could lead to momentous success or catastrophic ruin. The stakes were high and your mixed feelings towards him could not interfere with your plan, he was not the only manipulator anymore.

“Where is he bringing me?” you asked Virma after fifteen minutes of silence in the car. It was better not talking directly to Coriolanus when possible.

“Miss, isn’t this a date? Enjoy the ride,” the driver said with a smile.

You and Coriolanus laughed. Date? The only date you were looking for was the date this show would end. The car stopped and from the window you immediately recognised the place. It was not a fancy restaurant, a loud club or someone’s wealthy mansion.

First date with Coriolanus Snow at… the Citadel?

That was not what the script said.

You heard the car speeding away as he walked towards the huge grey entry, he unlocked the door and he stepped inside. You stood on the sidewalk, not sure if you wanted to follow him, it was too late to change your mind and too dark to be alone outside.

At least ten peacekeepers were guarding the entrance but Coriolanus walked towards the grey corridor unbothered. The first time you were there, you were searched as if you were a prisoner, as if you could hide a bomb inside your small pockets. This time they did not even consider you, because you both spent months working day and night in that cold laboratory.

The elevator plunged down at least twenty floors, the dark walls were so thick you could strain your vocal chords for hours but no one would hear you. You were standing beside him, waiting for the door to open as soon as possible. The only sound echoing in that place was the loud machinery that was slowly moving down.

“Did you miss this place so much you wanted a guided tour by me?” You asked, breaking the silence, “or is it a surprise party for me?” Five floors left, “tell me now so I put my best smile for the cameras,” you said mockingly, but he didn’t even look at you.

Couldn’t this man laugh for once? So boring.

The elevator doors parted and you finally stepped inside the laboratory. It was an open space divided into three areas. The center was where Dr. Gaul did experiments with animals, occasionally it was also where she did her lectures and exams; one side was the sterile area where the researchers did surgical operations and medical trials where they often experimented with new drugs on genetically modified animals; on the other side, there was the library and research tables, where you mostly spent most of your time studying advanced biotechnology methods.

“How romantic– I guess what people are going to say when I tell them for our first date you took me to see these sweet and lovely creatures,” you said as you looked at the wall glass with dead beasts inside clear yellowish cases.

“You should keep the bar low with me— and I just need to find some documents, you know this laboratory better than me,” he removed his coat and stepped towards the library on the other side of the room.

“You tricked me– you just wanted a favor from me,” your voice echoed and you were not sure he heard you. You walked through the library looking for him.

“I’m in the archives section,” his voice was not far away.

The library was arranged in a circular pattern, as if the bookshelves were layers and in the very core there was a large space with study desks, the ones you had slept on many nights back when you worked there. Soon you found the blonde leaning over a desk while reading some pages in an orange envelope.

“Did you find it?” You asked in an annoyed tone.

“Here there is– this is your file,” he said while standing up.

“My what now?” You walked over him, intended to grab the envelope with the 'confidential' print on the cover.

Coriolanus stepped back, leaning his back on the bookshelf behind him, “given your precedents, I thought it was better to check your past before they did,” he had already read your file a long time ago, but he didn’t tell you that.

He started reading the first page, “you uhm graduated with honors in medicine– bla bla bla first student in your class, —okay here, you specialized in general surg— oh no you did not” he paused, “yet?” Coriolanus looked at you with a puzzled face, suggesting you to say something.

“I will this year,” you looked at your fingers, fidgeting with the ends of your jacket.

“Lie number one, here it says you didn’t pay the tuition,” he pointed at the paper.

Fuck. You couldn’t afford paying for electricity, imagine the university fees, in the most expensive city in Panem. You stuttered something but he continued talking.

“Anyway, you got a place in the Ranvistill Clinic —impressive— and then you mysteriously asked for a transfer after two years, and this is how you got here,” he looked at you, “what happened?”

Was that a tricky question? This conversation was making you uncomfortable. You felt under trial, as if you were accused of crimes, Coriolanus was the judge and you were the only one defending yourself.

“Is this an interview? I didn’t know that apart from being interested in writing scripts you also were a human resource guy,” you tried switching the topic, the conversation was getting too personal.

“Do you have something to hide? I must be prepared for anything they can ask me,” he frowned.

You had many secrets you hoped he didn’t already know, “I changed jobs, that’s it.”

“You failed my test,” he chuckled, “you lied straight to my face in a serious matter –this is lie number two.”

“A test? What the hell Coriolanus.” You sighed as you walked over a desk, sitting on it.

“See? This is why you don’t have my trust.”

The man that cannot be trusted was really talking about trust?

“If you already know every detail of my life, why are you talking with me?”

“Oh, I knew it was going to bother you —anyway no, there’s just something that does not add up.” His eyes went again on that file, hands leafing through pages.

“Which is,” you said with a passive tone.

“Clodius South, head of the surgery department —or I should say, your umh— ex boyfriend?” He closed the folder and put it carelessly on the shelf behind him.

Your heart skipped a bit, “I’m done,” you stood up but he came closer to you.

“Answer just one question, I'm curious– why did he fire you? I mean, officially you transferred but I know it wasn’t voluntary,” he didn’t seem to give up, his look was pleading for answers, “so strange, you had been together for a year.”

“Why are you so interested in my sentimental life? You don’t have a chance with me, you know that right?” You laugh, feeling the tension in the air.

“There is no such risk, I’m not attracted to you,” his figure blocked you from walking away, “I just need your popularity, so I can fix it to something good.”

“You were the one kissing me in the car,” you bit your tongue, that kiss was something you didn’t want to bring up, it was better to forget about it. However, the other option was talking about your past, not something you were proud of.

“Oh please as if you didn’t want to,” he tilted his head, eyes locked on yours.

You laughed at his words, “you wish,” your back leaned against the desk.

“Then why did you kiss me back? I remember you didn’t let me breathe for a moment.”

“That was part of the show, Coriolanus Snow.”

“Now you use my full name? Last time I checked you called me differently,” he rested his arm on the desk you were lying on, making his height the same as yours.

You damned the only time it slipped from your lips calling him Coryo, a nickname you promised yourself to not say ever again.

“Why? Did it turn you on?”

His other hand was near your leg, slowly moving closer to your exposed skin.

“You can’t even imagine,” he swiftly looked down to your lips then back to your eyes.

The room did not feel cold anymore. Your breathing was getting slower, his parted lips warming your skin, his arm grazing your leg.

“So tell me, what happened with him?” Coriolanus insisted, but you had other plans in mind.

He was in power right now, he brought you here just to humiliate you with your deepest secrets. Weren't you just a miserable girl? It was your turn to make him feel miserable.

“You say you’re not attracted to me but you always find an excuse to touch me,” you whispered to his ear, his curls brushing your nose and his hand slightly brushing your leg.

This would have made him back off, telling you how stupid you are to think something like that, gaslighting you about the fact he never did such things like touching you.

“If it bothers you so much why you never push me away,” his hand traveled up to your leg, “go on, I’m waiting,” his fingers were now brushing your thigh and you felt his cold ring against your skin.

Fuck. That was not your plan.

You can always get back to it.

“I know your limits— I bet you barely touched a woman in your life,” you knew it was not true, you only said it as a provocation, to hurt his fragile ego as you planned.

I won.

”I don’t have limits, and we both know you would lose your bet,” his hand went under the hem of your skirt, making you shiver in surprise.

His index finger traced the outline of your panties, slightly playing with the waistband. Coriolanus didn’t break eye contact with you, his pupils were wide, you couldn’t see the blue that usually painted his iris, he was breathing slowly with parted lips, as if he wanted to control his heartbeat. And his hand felt so warm and familiar, so close to your core.

You knew that look, the one that he gave you when he let his guard down. The same look Coriolanus had when you came in his study a couple of days ago, his other side that he rarely showed to anyone.

His palm rested on your bare naked thigh.

“You don’t talk now?” His voice soothed your face, “tell me to stop and I will.”

That was the perfect occasion to slap that smug from his face, but you couldn’t even make up a coherent sentence. His voice was a gentle whisper cutting through the tension, but all you could manage was to stare at his eyes, trying to calculate his next move.

You knew what it was. It was a dangerous game you were playing, one that could shatter your plan. Did you have something to lose? You have already bent your morals, risked your life and crossed lines you never thought you would. Coriolanus would have been another crime to add to your list.

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

But what if I took just a bite? A taste of mortal sin.

“Why did you bring me here?” You managed to say trying to control your breathing.

“You once asked me why did I chose you,” Coriolanus whispered to your ear, “and I told you that it was for the presidential campaign,” his hand moved up again, “publicity, press and interviews— I only care about that,” his fingers were covering your clothed cunt.

You took a deep breath and swallowed, your back was still leaning against the desk edge, his other arm on your side. His words were not making things easier for you, not because you were listening to what he actually was saying, but because his tone of voice was something you could only hear in these moments. When he acted good, for the cameras, for the show. But there was no one in that room.

Coriolanus kept talking, “but my point is, why didn't you leave?” His index finger circled around your covered core, “I mean— I could list a few reasons why, considering also how wet you are right now,” he pulled your panties to the side, exposing your wetness. “But you always say you hate me, that you despise me, why are you here then? Are you so desperate?”

Your eyes were closed, your mind wandered prohibited thoughts while his hand was painfully too far away from what your body needed. What could you say to him? That he was right about being so desperate to pretend to be with him, so you could clean your image? That despite his selfish behavior he was tempting you into falling in his game?

Coriolanus brushed your soaked entrance with his fingertips as he massaged your clit with your own wetness. You shamefully spread your legs giving him more access to your folds, his digits that once touched your face were gently rubbing your needy center.

Your silent whimpers were enough as an answer for him to slide one finger inside you.

Your hand was now on his biecep, grabbing his arm so tightly or you could fall. There was something in you that was holding you back from punching him to his face. Was this the charm everyone talked about? Was this the version of him everyone adored?

“Given that you prefer remaining silent— I can tell you why,” his hand moved inside you, “you like the attention,” your cheek was against his, while your other hand rested on the nape of his neck.

Your reaction to his movements made him close his eyes in bliss, but you were too focused on not making sounds that you didn’t notice his expression. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that he was making you feel good.

“I bet you’ve barely been touched by a man,” Coriolanus echoed.

It’s just one bite of the apple.

You looked at him this time, and you wished you did it before. The blue in his eyes, his plump lips, the glistening on his forehead covered by his falling blonde curls. An angel.

No, no, he is the devil, not an angel.

“Wrong,” you breathed and his pace fastened, “actually they were better than you,” you whispered and his eyes widened.

“Lie number three,” he slid another finger, “I can tell when you’re pretending and when you’re not,” he brushed your clit with his thumb.

Oh.

You bucked your hips to make some friction, Coriolanus was painfully slow as if he was taking all the time in the world. He leaned his head to your left temple, where small reddish bruises were fading away from your skin, and he planted feather kisses on it. Coriolanus slowly traced a trail of wet kisses alongside your face. His soft lips were healing your bruises, his hand was igniting your core.

His fingers moved faster, pumping in and out your hole and slightly curled to hit exactly your sweet spot. Your little moans echoed in the room along with the sloppy sound of his hand never leaving your cunt. Coriolanus stroked your bundle of nerves once more, his lips sucked a spot behind your hear, slowly moving down your neck, marking your delicate skin with his warm kisses.

That was it. You were sure your high was coming in a matter of seconds, your mouth curved as pleasure began flowing through your body.

“But wasn’t I an uncaring, disrespectful —and what was that—oh, selfish and heartless man?” His hand stopped moving, “well I guess you were right,” his fingers were slowly pulling out your unfulfilled hole.

What was he doing?

“Did you really think you could do whatever you wanted? Having meetings without me, eating locked in your room, ignoring me for days— I have the control here.” Coriolanus looked down at you with a satisfied expression, believing that he finally asserted his dominance over you.

Your mind raced for a response, but before you could gather yourself, his words hung heavy in the air.

That was his revenge.

You thought you could teach him a lesson but he was a step ahead of you. Coriolanus humiliated you, exactly as he planned. His intent was to make you feel ashamed of your past but you gave him a better opportunity: he made you feel needy for him.

Self sabotaging.

“They are here,” he said in a calm tone, as if you were not almost buckling in that very moment.

Five seconds ago you were close to your orgasm and now you were feeling the emptiness growing inside you. You looked around confused, adjusting your body so now you were standing up, your weak knees begging for rest.

Who?

“They?” You stuttered as you watched him stepping back.

“Yes, I called them before,” he smirked, ”put your best smile for the cameras.”

Coriolanus acted like he did not just had his fingers inside you, but his body was telling another story, his bulge was visible from his pants and you noticed that as he swiftly covered his erection with his hand.

He walked towards the elevator where two peacekeepers were waiting for him. You fixed your skirt, probably too ruined and sticky to ever wear it again.

Fuck him.

You followed him, making sure to walk properly or he would’ve noticed how flustered you were. The thick doors closed, it was you, two peacekeepers and the blonde. You were sure he could smell your arousal, you still had traces of his saliva on your neck and a little bruise on your skin. A new one.

Coriolanus took a handkerchief from his pocket and he carefully cleaned his hand from your wetness, like he was cleaning his hands after a crime. Yours. The cloth wrapped around his fingers, as your walls clenched around him moments ago.

Then he caught you staring at his hand, “are you okay? You look flushed.”

You sick bastard.

Your cheeks were painted in a crimson color, of course he could see that, he was the cause of that. The same cause that made you cream your panties and shake your legs. If it wasn’t for the peacekeepers, you would have probably strangled him. But that was his lucky day.

He won.

After an infinite amount of time where your mind couldn’t stop picturing the sloppy sound from before, the elevator’s door parted. Coriolanus grabbed your shoulder as he was directed toward the exit. The silence in that room was now replaced by loud voices coming from the outside.

“Who did you call?” You tried pulling away from his grip but he kept you close.

“I told you, they haven’t seen us in a while.”

He opened the entrance and you heard someone shouting, “they are here!” A group of unknown faces were pointing microphones towards you, asking questions you didn’t bother to listen to.

You walked through the crowd side by side to him, his arm around your waist as you covered your face from the blinding flashes. The car was waiting for you in the exact spot it left you, Coriolanus let you enter in the car first as he followed by closing the door, blocking the loudness outside.

You sat on the back seat, heart racing outside your chest, forcing yourself to completely ignore his presence.

Coriolanus was again back in your thoughts as your wetness slid down your legs.

He is the forbidden fruit.

I am tempted by thee.

A/N: finally it’s out!! It has been so hard writing this chapter, I had so many ideas that I couldn’t mold them together into a coherent text lol. Anyway, as always tell me if there are grammatical mistakes because another difficulty was my limited vocabulary (a special thanks to wordreference.com or I wouldn’t be here today.) Every day I’m trying my best to improve my English so have mercy on me! Let me know if you want to be tagged next time!! 💌

Thank you so much for all the love and support!! Your comments mean a lot to me ❤️❤️ I love you all

ask me questions here 💌

Tag list: @daenerysqueenofhearts @snowsgames @secretsicanthideanymore @serving-targaryen-realness @rareheartsclub @metalarmsandmanbuns @jzr201 @xoxohannahlee @blueberrymuffinmouse @icedcoffee-please @xybilipid-post-blog @phoward89 @katherine101 @gracieghost36955 @annavatar @ghostlyloversworld @coolcatyarb @xxrougefangxx @devils-blackrose @phoward89 @commanderfreethatdust @thepassionatereader @anjellaufeyson @xoxohannahlee

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #coryo x reader #the hunger games #coryo smut #lucy gray baird #coriolanus smut #billy the kid x reader #young coriolanus snow #politician coriolanus snow

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donamori · 1 month

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Please indulge me to speak at length about Don Quixote (post Warp Express Intervello)

Unfortunately, this will be riddled with spoilers, however, I'm not necessarily making this post to make any real predictions. I'm mostly just collecting my thoughts, crafting some theories, and talking at length about my thoughts on the upcoming canto, their possible themes, and to gush and wail about my most favoritest sinner ever. If you've finished Murder on the Warp Train then feel free to continue

Alright, end of the most recent Intervello, it was revealed (much to my surprise at least) that Don Quixote, our pride and joy and ever most excellent knight-errant, is in fact a Bloodfiend. A bloodfiend who apparently has their true form suppressed by Rocinante, the shoes Don wears that are named after the steed Don Quixote rides upon in the book.

This new reveal has millions of possibilities forming in my head for the upcoming Canto and here's the gist of what I've kind of formed and gathered from what we know so far in the world of Limbus and Project Moon as a whole, what I personally know about Miguel De Cervantes and his works, and the general thematic ties that are now unfurling within my noggin that I'm trying to spool together in this nice little indulgent post.

Let's start with Miguel De Cervantes:

For those who may not know, Cervantes is the author of Don Quixote, born in 1547, died in 1616. A few important tidbits that I think will be important in the upcoming Canto-

youtube

Something that has been known for awhile is that Don's battle sprite does not list her name as Don Quixote but as Miguel. For awhile now I had been wondering if within Don Quixote's Canto we are going to receive some sort of reveal that Don Quixote is actually Miguel De Cervantes. Originally the basis of this theory I had was a quote from Cervantes about how "[he] would not exist without Don Quixote." (Something that was expanded upon in a lecture about Cervantes and Don Quixote that I found on youtube). In fact a large portion of that lecture, which I will link here, contributed to this idea I had built up in my head about the relationship between Miguel and Don.

What this essentially culminates to in my mind is that the Bloodfiend will reveal that they are Miguel, but for some reason or another, they "became" Don Quixote. So, in many loose adaptions of Don Quixote, this connection is typically made. In my personal favorite adaption, The Man of La Mancha, a musical about the book, they present the story of Don Quixote as a play for prisoners after Miguel Cervantes himself is arrested. And who is the man that plays Don? None other than Cervantes himself!

(you should really give it a watch, it's a lovely musical)

Now, within the book of Don Quixote itself, our titular hero sadly perishes at the end. He loses to the Knight of the Mirror (who is actually the Bachelor Sanson Carrasco, a man hired by Don's family to bring him home) and returns home. He then dies in his bed after renouncing the name of Don Quixote and all of his adventures. Saying with much seriousness that he is not Don Quixote, but Alonso Quijana. He leaves money to Sancho and his estate to his niece and then soon passes (after a heartfelt appeal from Sancho to return to adventuring together once more.)

After his death, the book ends with the author who is detailing Don Quixote's history writing this final paragraph-

"For me alone was Don Quixote born, and I for him; it was his to act, mine to write; we two together make but one, notwithstanding and in spite of that pretended Tordesillesque writer who has ventured or would venture with his great, coarse, ill-trimmed ostrich quill to write the achievements of my valiant knight... And I shall remain satisfied, and proud to have been the first who has ever enjoyed the fruit of his writings as fully as he could desire; for my desire has been no other than to deliver over to the detestation of mankind the false and foolish tales of the books of chivalry, which, thanks to that of my true Don Quixote, are even now tottering, and doubtless doomed to fall for ever. Farewell.”

I've paraphrased it a bit, but you get the gist. While the author detailing Don Quixote's history is a fictional author made up by Cervantes, I believe it is a cheeky way of Cervantes to insert himself in the story and express his true feelings here.

Now, with Cervantes and Donqui being one and the same I believe the strong thematic thread tying this all together is one of dreams. It's now known to us this whole time that Don Quixote is in fact, both dream and dreamer. The monster that Don Quixote is sleeps while they allow for their true self to live, ever dreaming. But now that Dream is Ending.

I think we're going to see the 'death' of Don Quixote and some sort of joining of Miguel and Don. I think Miguel wants to keep dreaming. They are a bloodfiend, a horrible monster, one of the more powerful beings that are mentioned in Project Moon's games. But i think that Miguel doesn't want that. I think that Miguel wants to be cured. Something that has never really been done for a bloodfiend, an impossible dream, perhaps?

I think in Don's Canto we're going to see what we see within the book. Miguel/Don's family trying to get him to come back, to stop him, to get him to give up on this silly dream of Knight-Errantry. And I believe Dante will finally be able to help Miguel take the first steps towards realizing this impossible dream.

Some small little thoughts that I've had that i think push this a bit further.

Don Quixote was written by Miguel when he was 50 while he was in prison.

I've been wondering now whether this cell we see Donqui in within her base ego was actually some sort of representation of this. Don Quixote was born while Miguel was locked away. This looming shadow of Rocinante keeping the Sangre De Sancho locked away within this small starry-eyed girl <3

Nothing that I really have any like, evidence for, but based on vibes I think representing the specific sort of Spaniard from this time period as some sort of high class vampire is excellent and really fits thematically as well.

Cervantes has a bunch of quotes about the nature of oneself and death (bloodfiends are undead). Some that I think are quite fitting are :

“A Man Without Honor is Worse than Dead.”

“Take my advice and live for a long, long time. Because the maddest thing a man can do in this life is to let himself die.”

“I know who I am and who I may be, if I choose.”

“When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical is madness. To surrender dreams — this may be madness. Too much sanity may be madness — and maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be!”

and finally, to conclude this,

“All I know is that while I’m asleep, I’m never afraid, and I have no hopes, no struggles, no glories — and bless the man who invented sleep, a cloak over all human thought, food that drives away hunger, water that banishes thirst, fire that heats up cold, chill that moderates passion, and, finally, universal currency with which all things can be bought, weight and balance that brings the shepherd and the king, the fool and the wise, to the same level. There’s only one bad thing about sleep, as far as I’ve ever heard, and that is that it resembles death, since there’s very little difference between a sleeping man and a corpse.”

If you read this whole thing, thank you for indulging me. I greatly appreciate it.

#don quixote #don quixote lcb #limbus company #project moon #Youtube

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peachdues · 1 year

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Seasons in Love (modern college AU: Part 1/2)

Sanemi meets Y/N in January and isn't a fan. As the seasons pass by, their evolving relationship becomes defined by a handful snapshots from the various holidays throughout the year.

A/N: part 1/2 of my college-AU fic to fulfill @shiverisms request for tooth-rotting Sanemi fluff. Part 1 covers January, the Spring and Summer festivals, Halloween and the week leading into finals in December. Part 2 will cover Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve. This is unlike anything I’ve really written before, so sorry if it drags!!

CW: swearing, some suggestive stuff but nothing too bad. College-typical drinking and debauchery.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

January 2nd – first day of the spring semester

Sanemi Shinazugawa hated many things. He hated the cold, because wearing too many layers made him feel like he was suffocating. He hated when the store was out of his favorite brand of dried seaweed. He hated whenever he saw that asshole, Douma, simpering his way across campus with a gaggle of unwitting freshmen trailing helplessly behind him.

But most of all, he hated change.

So, when Shinobu brought along a new face to their first family dinner of the new year, he’s not happy.

And initially, he felt vindicated by his reticence to welcome her as warmly into their friend group as some of the others, because, despite his friends’ kindness, she’d failed to even muster a grateful smile for her hosts.

Not once, during the entire affair, did the girl – Y/N -- so much as twitch her lips upwards; not when she met any of his friends, and certainly not at any of the jokes or fun they’d had.

It’s not that she’d been sullen and withdrawn — she’d participated in conversation just fine. But that bland stoicism on her face had really gotten under his skin, because it reminds him of Giyuu, and they’ve already got one of those.

Sanemi told Shinobu as much later that night as he kicked back in her worn, mismatched kitchen chair while the pharmacology student idly flipped through her biochemistry textbook.

“I’ll ignore the dig at Giyuu for now,” Shinobu said lightly, though her eyes flickered briefly up to his in warning, “but I would think you of all people would have a bit of compassion toward her, Sanemi.”

Sanemi reached out to snatch an apple from the little fruit bowl that Shinobu has on her kitchen table, taking a crude chomp out of it. “Why?” He asked, voice garbled by his thick mouthful.

Shinobu shot him a fleeting look of disgust at his lack of etiquette. “Do you remember that girl I was paired with in my mental health law seminar last semester? The one who dropped out of our final project last minute?”

Sanemi swallowed his mouthful of apple. “Yeah. You were pissed.”

And she had been. Shinobu had been stuck with doing the other half of an entire presentation just two days before it was due, and it had been on statutory interpretation which had not been Shinobu’s strongest area.

Shinobu’s scowled. “That’s because I didn’t know the reason,” she reached for a highlighter to mark text on the page open before her.

“Her little brother died. Cancer. He was only eleven.”

In one breath, all his prior irritation with the girl’s presence is extinguished within him.

Now, Sanemi felt like an asshole.

Because if anyone understood what it felt like to lose a loved one — especially one as young as eleven — it would’ve been him.

“Fuck,” Sanemi exhaled, apple falling to the table, forgotten. Absentmindedly, he reached his hand to rub at his chest, just over the jagged scar beneath his shirt that was one of the many souvenirs from the car wreck that had managed to kill everyone in his family but him.

That had been nine years ago — when Sanemi had barely been twelve.

He certainly hadn’t felt like smiling much after that, either. Truthfully, he’d probably be in far worse shape now had it not been for the people clustered in Shinobu’s and Mitsuri’s tiny apartment.

“She also got cheated on last semester,” Shinobu added after a moment.

Sanemi sighed heavily, feeling even worse. The poor girl had gone through what was arguably the worst semester, and he’d chapped her ass over not smiling.

“I didn’t know that — by who?” Tengen emerged from the adjacent living room, breezing by the table and into the kitchen to help himself to whatever was in the girls’ fridge.

Shinobu’s eyes hardened. “Douma,” her tone was poisonous.

Both Sanemi and Tengen groaned in unison.

“She deserves financial compensation for that one,” Sanemi muttered darkly, motioning for Tengen to toss him a beer. The sleazy, lazy, and arrogant student body President had earned the reputation of being a serial cheater around campus. Shinobu briefly had a fling with him their first year that she’d ended after only a few weeks, once it became all too clear that he was a master manipulator.

And, as Shinobu had referred to him, an utter man-whore.

Tengen padded out from the kitchen, beers in hand. “That explains why she doesn’t really have a friend group anymore, then.” He quipped, handing the extra beer to Sanemi before plopping down next to him at the table.

Shinobu hummed in agreement, hand seamlessly moving across the glossy page of her textbook as she made a small, precise note. “You know how Douma is — first he fucks you, and then he fucks you.”

Sanemi snorted, shaking his head. “So that’s why you feel so protective of her, huh?” He nudged her with his elbow. “You know what she’s going through.”

Shinobu shrugged him off. “Maybe; but so do you.” She said pointedly, hand flipping her textbook shut. “So maybe just try to be nice?”

“When the fuck am I not nice?” Sanemi demanded indignantly, and Shinobu shot him such a pitiful look that he felt his cheeks heat.

Tengen just laughed. “I think the real question is when are you ever?”

Sanemi glared at his loud-mouthed friend, but before he could respond with a snappy retort, Shinobu spoke.

“I’m not saying you have to be a saint, but I want Y/N to feel like she at least has some support here,” her tone was light but it carried that signature soft threat she used whenever she meant business. “so promise me you’ll at least try to get to know her.”

Sanemi groaned but acquiesced. “All right, all right,” he’d muttered, reaching back for his earlier-discarded apple. “I promise.”

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

March 23rd – Spring Festival

As winter melted way into spring and the cherry blossom buds had begun to bloom, so did Sanemi’s friendship with Y/N.

He promised Shinobu that he would try to make the girl feel part of their group, and Sanemi is a man true to his word – but in retrospect, he hadn’t expected it to be this easy to become friends with her.

It started when they realized they shared three out of their four classes together. Sanemi walked into his first seminar at the crack-ass of eight in the morning on the first day of spring classes when he’d spotted her sitting in the second row from the front. Sanemi didn’t like most of the other people in his class, so sitting beside her had seemed like a no-brainer.

It had been the best decision he could have made. Y/N was smart as a whip, and often went toe-to-toe with the self-professed “devil’s advocates” during class discussions, managing to weave in Shakespearean insults while simultaneously ripping apart their inane arguments.

Soon, they began to meet up for study sessions at Mitsuri and Shinobu’s apartment, as Y/N had also become incredibly close with the two girls. Sanemi began to find himself at the girls’ apartment far more than he was at his own. In March, he discovered they had precisely the same tastes in music; within a day she had sent him several specially-curated playlists that featured bands similar to his favorite artists.

By the end of March, Y/N had announced her plan to move in with Mitsuri and Shinobu.

It wouldn’t happen until the end of the semester, when Y/N’s solitary lease ended, but she’d planned to move in right before she spent a month at home with her family – which also marked the first time she’d return home since her brother had died.

Sanemi wasn’t surprised at how quickly Y/N had bonded with his other female friends; she had a sharp, dry wit that matched perfectly with Shinobu’s lofty, passive-aggressive attitude, yet also seemed to find delight in spending time with Mitsuri, with whom she’d rapidly become attached to at the hip. Part of Sanemi had hoped that her friendship with the two women would lighten the shadows that crossed her face every so often, and that maybe she would finally crack a smile.

It wasn’t as if Y/N wasn’t expressive – she was, particularly around her eyes. More often than not, she was scowling at him or rolling her eyes at his barbs, but there had been a few occasions when he’d thought that he’d caught something softer as she looked at him. Other times, he saw an amused twinkle in her eye whenever Mitsuri challenged Tengen to an arm-wrestling contest, as though she were on the precipice of laughter, though none ever came.

Shinobu had suggested Y/N’s failure to smile was just a way of her processing her trauma and grief, and that she was doing everything she could to cope. Sanemi had not yet broached the subject with Y/N, not wanting her to feel compelled to open up wounds she was trying so hard to stitch together, but he worried that she wasn’t getting the support she needed.

Near the end of the semester, Y/N had become slightly more irritable, constantly jiggling a foot whenever she sat down, or wringing her hands in her lap whenever she was in deep thought.

Sanemi had agreed to study with her for their last final, but was on his last nerve as she continuously clicked her pen, each press of her thumb against the cap harder than the last.

“You have to stop.” He finally snapped, throwing his own pen down on his notebook before him to glare at her. “I can’t hear myself think.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise at his outburst before lowering, her arms folding insecurely in front of her chest.

“Sorry,” she murmured, her foot beginning to twitch beneath the table.

Sanemi sighed and slammed his book shut, folding his hands under his chin as he braced his elbows on the table. “All right, out with it; what’s got ya all bent out of shape?”

Y/N didn’t meet his eyes, instead toying idly with the ends of her hair. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Sanemi rolled his eyes and huffed. “You’ve been squirming nonstop for the last two weeks, and it’s only gotten worse,” he nodded pointedly at the way she kept twisting and untwisting a lock of her dark, silky hair around her index finger. “Somethin’s bothering you.”

Y/N remained quiet for a moment, but contemplative, weighing out the risks and the rewards of opening up to the scowling man sitting across from her.

“I haven’t been home since – since he died,” She began, shifting slightly in her seat. “And I’ve felt really closed off from my parents ever since the funeral. We haven’t talked much at all.” She bit her lip, staring intently at the wooden grain of the table. “I guess I’m just anxious about going back.”

Sanemi clicked his tongue. “I gotta say, I don’t envy you right now,”

“Thanks.” Y/N interjected coolly, but Sanemi held a hand up to quiet her.

“I mean, that car wreck just killed my whole family, so I didn’t have to deal with anyone else’s grief but my own,” Sanemi continued, and Y/N fell silent. “I can’t imagine having to deal with someone else’s.”

Y/N’s hand had fallen from her hair to the table, and it twitched toward him. She hestitated for a moment before finally reaching over and placing her small hand on Sanemi’s broad, scarred forearm.

“Sanemi, I had no idea,” she said, softly. “I’m so sorry.”

Sanemi surprised himself by not immediately shrugging off her touch, but he found it hard to meet her eyes. Most people looked at him with pity, and he’d long since lost the ability to stomach it.

Y/N slowly pulled her hand back from his arm, moving to wipe furiously at her eyes.

“Ah hell, I didn’t mean to make ya cry-“ Sanemi said, cursing himself for trudging up what had to be painful memories.

She shook her head furiously. “No, it’s not that,” she batted the tears from her eyes before meeting his gaze head-on. “I’ve just felt so…alone these last few months. Like I was drowning in my grief.”

Sanemi felt something within him stir at the intensity of her stare, something warm and comforting spreading through his chest. “But you’re not,” he said with equal quiet, offering her a small smile. “It’s the worst club to be a part of – the dead family club – but it’s nice knowin’ someone else in it.”

Y/N nodded, and Sanemi could swear he saw something like a ghost of a smile on her face, but it was gone as soon as it came.

“If things at home get too hard to deal with this summer,” Sanemi said after a pause, “just call me. Any time.”

And damn him if he didn’t feel like he could soar at the look of hope in her eyes.

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

July 15th – Mid-Summer Festival

Summer had passed by slowly and lazy in the blazing heat.

Sanemi had spent the majority of their break at the Rengoku family lakehouse, working alongside his best friend as a lifeguard at the local swim club. When he wasn’t shouting at kids for being walking lawsuits as they ran alongside the pool and drinking cheap beer with Kyojuro, he had been texting Y/N – outside of their active group chat.

It was insane to him that she’d become as close with him as he was to Kyojuro. Sanemi had found her so easy to talk to, even over the phone, and eagerly checked for her messages the moment he awoke and the moment before he fell asleep. Once or twice, Kyojuro had even grumbled that Sanemi rarely texted the group chat back but seemed to have no trouble responding to one of Y/N’s many memes or song recommendations.

But now, the whole gang had reunited for a holiday weekend at the Rengoku lakehouse to celebrate the mid-summer festival with a cookout and fireworks.

Translation: they’d all come to get absolutely plastered while enjoying some fun in the picturesque water surrounding the generous estate.

It was day two of the festival weekend, and six of them were in the water, locked in a fierce battle of chicken. Y/N was perched on Sanemi’s shoulders as she wrestled Mitsuri, who was close to strangling a sputtering Kyojuro with her thighs as she desperately tried to remain upright. So far, he and Y/N had knocked out the other pair — Shinobu and Giyuu -- and were vying for the title of Chicken Champions.

Sanemi wouldn’t lie that he’d initially felt a bit smug over how Y/N had darted forward to grab his arm when Mitsuri announced the need to partner up. He’d thought it was because of his strength — he knew he was jacked, and he assumed that she had (correctly) concluded that she stood the best chance of winning if she climbed atop his shoulders.

“I won’t let you fall, princess.” He’d crooned, winking at her. She’d rolled her eyes at the use of his nickname for her, and he’d puffed his chest out, feeling a cocky sense of pride.

As it turned out, he’d been dead fucking wrong. Y/N hadn’t chosen him because he’d looked the strongest.

No. She’d chosen him because he was the only one she could get away with outright abusing in her ruthless play for the championship.

“Left, left, left!” She screeched, fingers snaring in his hair to wrench him harshly to the side, her heels digging sharply into his abdomen beneath the water as she desperately tried to steer him away from Mitsuri’s incoming flailing limbs.

Somehow, despite the searing pain in his scalp and the spray of lake water in his eyes, Sanemi had managed to follow her directions and the pair managed to narrowly avoid catastrophe. But Y/N wasn’t finished, as she tightened her shapely thighs around Sanemi’s neck to twist him back so she could lunge for the pinkette now unsteady atop of Kyojuro.

Sanemi had never been more grateful that the water covered him from the waist-down, as Y/N’s thighs clenched around his head once more as she shoved at her best friend with all her might.

Mitsuri had been too unbalanced to resist Y/N’s attack, and she finally toppled off Kyojuro’s shoulders and splashed into the water.

“Chicken Champs!” Tengen declared from the shoreline where he had been refereeing, more interested in working in a tan than he had been in getting in the water.

“I knew we’d win.” Y/N sniffed, tapping Sanemi’s head lightly. “I didn’t scalp you, did I?”

But Sanemi couldn’t answer because he was fighting a losing battle to conceal the growing bulge in his trunks, fearful that if any of his friends saw, they’d never let him live it down.

He’d known he was in trouble when she’d first emerged from the girls’ room in that tiny red bikini. For the last three hours, he’d been constantly reminding himself that she was his best friend and was therefore off-limits every time he’d caught his eyes lingering a second too long on her exposed skin and that he valued their friendship above all else.

But those rationalities were getting harder to remember the longer he felt her legs dangling over his chest, and his self-control was rapidly slipping.

So, upon Tengen declaring their victory, Sanemi did the only thing he could think of to escape his predicament— he slid his hands under her knees and dumped her into the water behind him, Y/N squeaking as she fell.

By the time Y/N’s head breached the surface of the lake, her eyes blazing and ready to fight, Sanemi had already been halfway back to the lake house, with nothing but a cold shower on his mind.

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

Later that night, once everyone was thoroughly shit-faced and Kyojuro and Tengen were itching to light the fireworks, Y/N was nowhere to be found. Sanemi broke away from the group, heading towards the boat dock just down a grassy hill when he’d spotted her sitting on the edge of the pier. She was leaning against one of the posts, legs dangling into the water below as she gazed up at the brilliant expanse of stars twinkling in the night sky.

“It’s about time to watch a bunch of drunk assholes blow shit up.” He said, crouching down to sit beside her.

Y/N merely turned her head toward him before looking away again, remaining quiet. Her eyes were clouded and wistful as she peered up at the sky, her lower lip wobbling slightly.

In moments like these, Sanemi had learned the best thing he could do was stay silent. If she wanted to talk, she would, but sometimes, she just wanted him near.

The two were quiet for a moment, the only sounds being the slow lap of the lake water as it broke against the wooden pier, and the distant echoes of laughter as Kyo and Tengen drunkenly tried to set up the firework display.

“It’s been eight months since he died,” Y/N broke the silence, her voice soft. “And I hadn’t even realized. I was so swept up in having fun that I forgot about him for a moment.” She looked down at her lap, fingers twisting nervously together. “I must be awful.”

Sanemi shook his head, his hand itching to reach out and pat her back, to offer her comfort, but it remained still on the wood beneath him. “Nah. Not awful.” He lifts his gaze up to the stars twinkling above them, the mid-summer night sky resplendent with light. “It’s shitty to say, but sometimes you’ve gotta remember that you’re still livin’— even if they’re not.”

Y/N snorted, bringing a hand up to wipe at the tears that had begun to cling to her eyelashes. “That’s a harsh way of putting it.”

Sanemi grimaced, resenting how poor he could be with words. “I meant that he wouldn’t want you to keep yourself from living just because of him.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “What brought it on, anyways? I mean, what reminded you?”

Y/N leaned her head back against the worn post of the pier, chewing on her lower lip in thought. “I guess when Kyo mentioned it was almost time for fireworks. My brother loved the summer festivals, but he really loved the fireworks.” Y/N’s eyes slid shut momentarily as she reminisced, echoes of vibrant colors and the sounds of her brother’s laughter echoing in the corners of her mind. “He’d beg my parents to stay up past his bedtime to watch them. They used to tell him ‘No,’ but he kept sneaking out to watch them anyways. They eventually just gave in.”

Y/N paused, as she wove the connection between the memory in her head with the heaving feeling in her heart. “I guess that’s why I came down here.” She shrugged, as though to deflect the pain and loneliness that curled her shoulders forward, that still lurked in the shadows beneath her eyes. “Didn’t wanna drag the group down, you know?”

Sanemi looked back to Y/N, so beautiful beneath the starlight, so kind, and so very sad.

“I don’t think anyone would think you’re bein’ a drag,” Sanemi murmured. “But tell ya what — if you’re ever feeling down again while we’re all together, how about you give me a signal and we can dip out together ‘til you feel better?”

Y/N sniffed eyeing him incredulously. “A signal?”

Sanemi nodded. “Yeah, like — I dunno — a code word or something?”

Y/N pursed her lips as she looked back over the still water of the inky lake, considering.

“How about ‘chicken?’ In honor of our win today?” She said after a moment.

Sanemi grinned. “Perfect.”

The telling whizz and whirr of fireworks being launched into the sky cut Y/N off before she could reply. With a resounding boom! the night sky filled with bright streaks of red, white, pink, and yellow. Between the pulsing claps of the thunder of the fireworks, Y/N and Sanemi could hear the distant whoops and hollers of their friends.

Y/N’s eyes were locked on the dazzling display of fire and spark above them, a mixture of sadness and wonder glistening within them.

Later that night, just as Sanemi had been on the precipice of sleep, he’d realized he had not seen a single firework that his friends had launched in celebration of the summer festival.

Because while Y/N’s eyes had been fixed on the beautiful show of color in the night sky, Sanemi had not been able to look at anything else but her.

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

October 31st -- Halloween

“Stop moving your face,” Y/N said exasperatedly to the scowling, white-haired man sitting before her. “You’re going to mess me up.”

Sanemi wanted to crack an eye to glare at her, but he feared she might stick one of her makeup brushes in his eye socket if he did. Instead, Sanemi clenched his jaw, fists balling in his lap.

“You’re taking for-fuckin’-ever,” he muttered, wincing slightly as Y/N dabbed a cold, gel-like substance against his cheek.

“I’m not the one who picked the most high-maintenance costume out of our entire group,” Y/N scoffs, pulling away from Sanemi to blend together a mixture of red, brown, and gray face paint to apply on the fake wound she has created along Sanemi’s sharp cheekbone. “I mean seriously, a wolf demon? Why not just go as a regular werewolf?”

It is Halloween and Sanemi regrets ever agreeing to a group costume theme.

It had all started when Shinobu, Mitsuri, and Y/N had come to their weekly family dinner a month prior with wicked gleams in their eyes. They had waited until everyone else had been seated before Shinobu announced that not only had she gotten all their names down on an invite list for an exclusive Halloween party at the Wisteria House the following month, but they would all be dressing up as part of a group theme.

Tengen, Kyojuro, and Gyomei had each expressed excitement while Giyuu, Obanai, and Sanemi had remained silent, though the latter only did so because he was too busy gaping at the girls, his mouth full of food.

“Tell me you three’ve already figured out the theme,” Tengen had said, his magenta eyes alight with excitement. “I want to be the flashiest group in that fucker.”

Mitsuri’s smile had only grown wider. “Mythical monsters - specifically demons!”

Sanemi’s groan had been cut off by a sharp kick under the table from Y/N, who was glowering at him threateningly. One look from her, and he’d known arguing would be pointless.

And that was how Sanemi had found himself now, on Halloween night, sitting stiffly on the worn-out ottoman in the girls’ apartment while Y/N smeared liquid latex across his cheeks to create the fake appearance of claw marks.

Mitsuri was on the other side of Y/N, painting fake slits on either side of Obanai’s mouth to give him a more snake-like appearance to suit his Snake Demon attire. The moment Sanemi had seen Y/N’s hands free up after she had put the finishing touches on Shinobu’s Butterfly Demon makeup, he’d nearly toppled over the coffee table to claim her before Kyojuro could sit down and occupy her time.

Truthfully, Sanemi had just wanted the chance to be near her. She was already decked out in her full Spider demon costume; her face painted a ghostly shade of white and accented by red circles meant to mimic the appearance of spider eyes. Sanemi, however, had miscalculated one crucial detail in his haste to be the only one of the men that she touched to do their makeup — how skimpy her costume would be.

Y/N was clad in a thin, white wrap dress that cut short just above her mid-thigh. The dress, though sleeved, also boasted a deep v-neck, and Sanemi was avidly trying to avoid staring at her exposed cleavage, which had also been painted and dusted with a shimmering powder. Her legs were bare, covered in the same glitter as the rest of her skin, and she was already teetering around in heels that Sanemi knew damn well would not stay on her feet longer than an hour.

In fairness, Y/N’s costume wasn’t nearly as skimpy as her pink-haired friend’s. Mitsuri insisted she was going as a cat demon, but Sanemi failed to see the correlation between the black unitard with the plunging neckline and anything remotely feline.

Y/N’s fingers brushed against his cheeks as she dabbed a mixture of paint to create the appearance of blood and Sanemi wills them not to heat under her touch. The task is nearly impossible, however, because he felt like he was being electrocuted every time she brushes against him. That feeling was only accentuated every time she moved to lean over him and pick up yet another beauty tool, the sweet honey of her perfume more intoxicating than the shots Tengen had made them pound earlier.

Sanemi was so lost in thought as he reveled beneath Y/N’s heavenly touch that he failed to notice her step back, eyes scrutinizing his face as she considered her handiwork. Sanemi cracked an eye open and watched her nod in satisfaction, finally dropping her makeup brushes on the side table.

“You’re done.” She said, tapping his shoulder to motion him to stand. Y/N thrusted a tiny makeup mirror in his hand so he could inspect.

She’d turned his existing facial scars into fake, bloodied, fresh ones, but elongated them to give the appearance of claw marks. She added an additional vertical scar that extended from above his right eyebrow to nearly his cheek. All in all, Sanemi thought he looked -

“Scary!” Mitsuri exclaimed, eyes widening softly. “He’s sure on theme — he’ll terrify people!”

Y/N clicked her tongue in disagreement. “No, I don’t think he looks scary,” she tilted her head in thought, Sanemi feeling slightly embarrassed as the two girls continued to look him over.

“I think he looks…,” Y/N paused, her eyebrow quirking up suggestively as her eyes lit up, dancing with a challenge. “Feral.”

Sanemi grinned at her, purposefully bearing his teeth in an effort to look as wolf-like as possible.

Tengen came back into the living room from where he and Kyo were doing shots and winked at his silver-haired friend. “You’ll still be able to pick up girls looking like that, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi doesn’t know why, but the comment irritated him, and he turned away from the group to hide his reddening face.

He doesn’t see the way Y/N’s eyebrows furrow at the comment.

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

It was two in the morning, and they are all utterly inebriated.

The Wisteria House — an exclusive club that Shinobu had only been able to get them into because of her connections to one of its proprietors — had been pulsing with music and lights as throngs of costumed revelers had ground to the thunderous beat of the music.

The group of them had thrived beneath the black light of the club dance floor, getting drunk on endless rounds of shots and mixed drinks that kept flowing from the bar like a waterfall of spirits.

But now, it was after two in the fucking morning, and somehow Sanemi had been stuck with corralling not one, but two drunk assholes back into their apartment despite being intoxicated himself.

The two assholes in question were also arguably the biggest lightweights out of all their friends — Mitsuri and Y/N.

Six of them had agreed to call an Uber to take them all back home to their apartments, but Kyojuro had gotten the whole group kicked out after he’d thrown up all over the driver’s pristine leather seats.

The blonde had been nearly unconscious when Tengen and Giyuu dragged him out the side of the car, and neither of them could stand to haul their blacked-out friend back to the boys’ apartment by themselves. But someone had to stay back to walk the two drunk girls back to their apartment because none of them were stupid enough to risk letting the girls walk by themselves - which was how Sanemi found himself in the position of the official babysitter of the two, shit-faced girls who stumbled along the pavement next to him.

“Kanroji — no, god dammit, st-op tryin’ to run,” Sanemi growled, his words a little slurred as he lunged to grab onto the pinkette’s arm as she tried yet again to take off into the night, giggling about how she wanted to run and feel free.

Mitsuri began wailing because Sanemi is a big meanie, but she shuffled along beside him in resigned obedience. Sanemi bit down on the litany of curses threatening to spill from his lips as he whipped around to lay eyes on the other girl he’d been charged with escorting safely home.

Y/N was limping along, about ten feet behind her friends, her legs quivering from exhaustion thanks to those fucking heels she’d insisted on wearing. How she’d managed to remain upright and not snap both her ankles was a mystery to Sanemi, but right then, he was annoyed and wanted nothing more than to slump home and pass out in his own bed.

“Y/N!” He barked behind him, the girl’s face blearily looking up in alarm. “March!”

“‘Nemiiii,” she whined, stumbling slightly as her balance shook. “I can’t — hiccup — go any faster.”

Sanemi ground his teeth. “Try harder.”

Y/N managed to flip him off before stumbling again. “Mitsuri’s right, you are a meanie.”

Sanemi had had it; it was nearly three in the goddamn morning, and somehow the man with the least amount of patience had been stuck with the two drunkest shitheads in his circle of friends, and those shitheads were keeping him from embracing the sweet oblivion of drunken sleep.

So, he snapped.

Hand still wrapped firmly around Mitsuri’s forearm, he stomped back to Y/N, tugging his other friend helplessly along behind him. Standing before her, Sanemi crouched and turned to glare up at his swaying best friend.

“Climb on. I ain’t arguing.” He ordered, and to her credit, Y/N complied, looping her arms across Sanemi’s sternum and locking her legs around his waist. He thinks she would have put up more of a fight had her feet not been about to fall off.

“No fair! I wanna be carried!” Mitsuri whined, tugging at his arm.

Sanemi just trudged along, relief flooding him as the girls’ tiny apartment comes into view. “You know how to walk in heels, Kanroji. She doesn’t.” He jerked his head back to the half-unconscious girl clinging to his back.

By some miracle, Sanemi and the girls finally arrived at the apartment, and Mitsuri was at least coordinated enough to fumble for her key to unlock the front door.

Once inside, Sanemi kicked the door shut behind him, and Mitsuri broke free from his hold, half-sprinting into the kitchen to chug some water. Sanemi readjusted his grip on Y/N’s legs and moved towards her closed bedroom door, ready to dump her on her bed and go the fuck home.

“We made it!” Y/N’s sleepy voice murmured in his ear. Sanemi grunted in response, moving to deposit her on the soft down of her mattress when he felt her lurch forward on his back.

He was about to snap at her for being difficult when he felt the sloppy press of a soft pair of lips against his ear.

“Thanks, ‘Nemi.” Y/N said sleepily, falling off his back in an unceremonious heap on her bed. She sunk into the ridiculous array of pillows and blankets she insisted on piling onto her mattress.

Sanemi realized she’d been aiming for his cheek, but had missed in her drunken stupor. Nonetheless, his ear burned where her mouth had been, and he felt slightly hot under the collar of his flannel shirt.

“Drink some water so you’re not violently hungover tomorrow, idiot.” Was all he said as he moved to leave her room and finally, finally, return to his apartment.

“‘M-Kay. Love you.” Y/N slurred, and Sanemi froze. “Love my ‘Nemi. You’re my bestest friend in the world.”

Sanemi’s heart thumped wildly in his ears, though the slight lead of disappointment sunk in his gut. She loved him like a brother, of course — not as anything — as anything more than that.

Sanemi moved to exit the apartment, checking to ensure Kanroji hadn’t fallen asleep on her back, and pausing only to place a trash can next to where she was passed out on the couch. He softly closed the door behind him and began to make his way back to the apartment he shared with Kyojuro and Tengen.

Sanemi’s feet stumbled slightly on his journey as his mind reeled. His ear still burned from Y/N’s kiss, and her words echoed and clanged around in his head until he could hear nothing else.

Somehow, Sanemi ends up in his bed, sleep rapidly creeping up on him as his eyelids grow heavy. In his haze, he thought about how, despite being in a club surrounded by her friends and drunk off her ass, she’d still failed to smile even once.

As he drifted off, he thought about how empty and cold he felt now that he is no longer bearing Y/N’s warm weight on his back. Though he’d only been carrying her, she had felt indescribably good in his arms, and Sanemi cannot think of much he wouldn’t do to be touched by her again.

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

December – one week before finals.

A snowstorm had blown through their city that afternoon.

Though, perhaps “snowstorm” was too light of a description; in a matter of hours, an outright blizzard had dumped nearly three feet of snow across town and had utterly and thoroughly fucked the roads. The university had no option but to cancel classes through at least the end of the week.

Sanemi had looked forward to a night in, preferably with some video games and maybe some of his boys. It had been a long, strenuous week; truthfully, he felt like killing some virtual monsters.

It seemed, however, that his friends had other ideas as to how to spend their newly-freed evening, and of course it involved doing the exact opposite of what Sanemi had hoped to do.

He’d been in the middle of frying an egg for dinner when his phone began vibrating. He’d ignored it at first, until it nearly buzzed itself off his counter, Sanemi having to jolt to catch it in his hand before it hit the cracked linoleum of his kitchen floor.

His phone was steadily buzzing with new messages in the group chat. Swearing slightly under his breath, Sanemi unlocked his phone and scrolled up to see the message that had prompted the flurry of reactions and enthusiastic agreements from his friends.

It had started with a message from Tengen.

Quad. 20 minutes. Snow ball fight.

Sanemi groaned and responded only to tell Tengen to fuck off. But then Y/N had replied that she and the girls were on their way, and she’d called him a baby bitch for sitting out, so he’d had no choice but to bundle up in his thickest flannel and sweater and head towards the quad.

By the time Sanemi trudged his way through the shin-deep wintry sludge, a full-on war was being waged on the campus green. Though it was nearly midnight, the snow illuminated the winter wonderland around them, and Sanemi could see all his friends and a few other straggling students engaged in a fierce battle.

He scanned the quad for a sign of Y/N and spied her about 20 feet away, swathed in a thick, wool coat and hat, crouched slightly behind a tree. Beside her was a small pile of densely packed snowballs, like a stockpiled winter arsenal.

“Ya know you’re supposed to throw the snowballs, right?” Sanemi chided, sidling up to where she stood, just off the snow-covered walk of the green. She had two snowballs clutched in her gloved hands, but her eyes were fixed on someone, her tongue darting out between her lips in concentration as she calculated her next move. “Like, actually throw ‘em at people.”

Y/N tore her eyes off whatever target she’d locked onto to give him a withering glare. “I’m trying, smart-ass, to figure out the best way to hit Gyomei in the face,” she turned away from him once more, resuming her careful assessment of the tallest target on the quad, who was busy pelting the back of Giyuu’s head with scary precision.

Sanemi’s grin turned wicked. “Kinda sadistic of you to target the blind guy, isn’t it?” He goaded, bending down to scoop up and a handful of snow for himself.

Y/N whipped around at him, eyes blazing. “He’s throwing snow chunks at people, you fuckhead, and all is fair in war-“

Y/N’s rant was cut off as a well-packed sphere of snow smashed into the side of her face. She dropped the snowballs she’d been holding, her hand jumping up to her cheek in shock, as the skin beneath it stung from the icy bite of the snow.

Sanemi let out a hearty laugh. Y/N stood there, mouth gaping and dark hair plastered to the wet of her cheek, an adorable mix of both shock and indignation on her face.

Behind him, Sanemi heard Mitsuri’s tinkling, mischievous laughter.

“Motherfucker,” Y/N breathed, staring after her roommate, her eyes lighting up with a promise of swift retribution.

“Oh come on,” Sanemi laughed again at her, open and deep. “You had it coming — that’s what you get for tryna hit the blind -“

An explosion of ice and water smacked into the side of his face, soaking his hair and the collar of his jacket.

Y/N whirled to see Obanai wink at her before he took off to join Mitsuri to guard her against the onslaught flying snowballs.

Y/N turned back to Sanemi and gasped.

Obanai had not just thrown a snowball packed from the generous coating of fresh, pristine powder that covered the green; rather, he’d made a small grenade, using snow and slush gathered from the side of the road.

Gray snow dripped from the side of Sanemi’s face, soiling his cheek, and staining the cream sweater he had on beneath his jacket. Sanemi was frozen in his surprise at being caught off guard until a small, unfamiliar sound snapped him out of it.

The source of the sound made his heart drop to his stomach.

It was Y/N, who was staring up at his soiled face, watching as the black snow slid down his cheek and dripped onto the ground below him.

And she was laughing. Laughing at him.

The sound that rattled from her chest was neither a snicker nor a snort; it was a raspy, raucous cackle. Her head was tipped back slightly, as she gawked up at him, her eyes crinkled with mirth as she vaguely gestured to the smear of gray on his cheek and dissolving into another fit of giggles.

Laughter subsiding slightly, Y/N stepped forward and swiped her hand through the sludge still gathered on Sanemi’s face in a poor attempt to wipe the gray stain away. She realized it was futile though and looked instead at her now-dirtied palm in slight distaste, wiping it against the black wool of her coat.

She peered back up at him and smiled, broad and radiant.

That exhilarating smile faded, however, as Sanemi stood there, motionless, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly parted, shocked into silence.

“Sanemi, what-“ Y/N started, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Do it again,” Sanemi whispered, breathless. He’d not blinked or dared to do so in case he might miss it. “Smile again.”

Y/N’s eyebrows knit in confusion before softening. She’d not realized she’d even done it.

But Sanemi looked so awestruck, so desperate that she couldn’t deny him. So, she grinned broadly at him, cheeks almost burning after months of non-use, though she could not find it within herself to care.

Sanemi slowly returned the smile, pure joy illuminating his features. And they both began to laugh, without restraint, even as snowballs continued to whizz by them.

By the time the snowball fight had ended, Sanemi was soaked to the bone.

Admittedly, he hadn’t been paying attention to the slushy projectiles that had been lobbed with precision by the carefree college students who had gathered on the quad. His attention had been exclusively on Y/N as she pranced and ducked through the snow, smiling and laughing with abandon.

She’d been exquisite to watch.

One by one, his other friends had caught notice, had pricked their ears at the sound of an unfamiliar laugh that rang through the campus green, and turned to identify the source. As they watched Y/N run and duck and throw with that broad grin on her face, they too, had fallen still, their eyes going soft as they realized the enormity of the moment.

Because when Y/N smiled, she was a completely different person.

She looked bright, carefree, and more radiant than the sun. The resplendence of her smile made the snow look ugly and dull in comparison.

Mitsuri had watched her best friend with tears in her eyes, and Shinobu had looked close to joining her.

All the while, Sanemi had been unable to tear his eyes from her, and the warmth that he felt spread through his numb fingers and cheeks made him swear that he would do anything, anything at all, to make Y/N smile again.

—————————————————————————

Sanemi felt as though he was levitating even after he dropped Y/N off back at her apartment. He may as well have been floating on a cloud as he made his way down the hallway of the dimly lit hallway of the girls’ apartment complex, because he’d finally seen Y/N smile, had seen her laugh, and it was goddamned glorious.

Mitsuri emerged from the hall stairwell, cheeks pink and eyes bright from the evening of fun in the cold. She giggled as she saw the gray stain still on Sanemi’s face from the sludge ball he took.

“I would say ‘sorry,’ but honestly, it was pretty funny,” Mitsuri teased, nodding at his disheveled appearance. Sanemi snorted, but he couldn’t feign annoyance or irritation because he felt so damn good.

“Tell your boyfriend to watch out tonight, or else he might find his bed outside.”

Mitsuri giggled again, but then fell quiet, something more serious crossing her face.

“When are you going to tell her you’re in love with her?” She asked, her voice low.

Just like that, Sanemi felt as though a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him, as though he was crashing right back down to earth under the weight of the accusation she wanted him to answer for.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said gruffly, averting his gaze so he did not have to meet Mitsuri’s knowing stare.

Sanemi knew Mitsuri could see right through his bullshit — could tell by the way she huffed at him and could see it out of his periphery in how her head was cocked at him. He looked back at her and nearly recoiled at the vast pity swimming in her jade eyes.

“Fuck, Mitsuri,” he groaned, leaning against the hall wall and letting his head fall back against it with a thud. He ran a hand over his exhausted face, and slightly resented the fact his friend had always been so discerning in the affairs of the heart.

“I can’t put that kind of pressure on her,” Sanemi admitted quietly after a long moment, arm falling back down to his side, limp.

Mitsuri had been right, of course, he was in love with Y/N. He’d suspected it for a while, but seeing her radiant smile that night only confirmed that the persistent twisting he had felt in his heart over the last few months had been more than mere longing.

But Sanemi also knew he’d long been toeing a line that he can’t cross.

“If things between us went south, what then?” Sanemi continued, “We’ve been friends since we were kids. She’ll feel like she’s the one who has to leave, and I-“ Sanemi hesitated, shaking his head. A lump formed in his throat, threatening to suffocate the emotions that have been fighting to break free from his heart.

“It would be fuckin’ selfish of me to take that from her after she’s tried so hard to build herself a support network. I can’t do that to her, ‘Suri.”

The pink-haired woman sighed and joined him as he leaned against the wall, the two staring off into the empty space before them.

“She is a part of our group, that’s true,” Mitsuri agreed, though contemplative. “But you, Sanemi, have been the biggest source of comfort for her.”

Sanemi scoffed. “Well, that’s what best friends are s’pposed to do.”

Mitsuri shook her head, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. “No, I’m her best friend,” she nudged him playfully with her elbow. “You though… you’re different. And I think she knows that, too.”

She kicked off the wall, and made her way towards her apartment door, pausing just as she reaches for the knob.

“After all, you’re the one she smiled for.”

Mitsuri and all her pink disappeared into her apartment, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

Sanemi remained against the wall for a while longer, his head and his heart a tangled web of hope and doubt.

The walk back to his place is solitary, and so Sanemi tried to sort through the snarled brambles of his mind. As he shuffled through the winter landscape, Sanemi thought that he’d never fully appreciated the snow before. He hadn’t noticed how beautiful snow-capped conifers looked, branches heavy with the sparkling ice; hadn’t realized how beautifully quiet the world could be when blanketed beneath a thick coat of white.

He thought about how Y/N looked standing amidst the chaos of the snowball fight, cheeks flushed with the cold and her own adrenaline, a smile as wide and bright plastered on her face. He basked in the warm echoes of her laughter as she lobbed yet another snowball at the back of Mitsuri’s head, squealing in delight when her friend returned her attack tenfold.

And Sanemi thinks that the snow wasn’t so bad after all.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Stick around for part 2 if you want to find out if Sanemi will finally confess (and how he’ll likely screw it up 😉)

#demon slayer #sanemi shinazugawa #kimetsu no yaiba #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #kny x reader #kny fanfic #sanemi drabble #kny #kocho shinobu #shinobu kocho #mitsuri kanroji #kimetsu mitsuri #kny mitsuri #kny shinobu #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku

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