#''yet the thing on my mind seems to nearly be nothing but you'' in regards to rayllum

[imminent-danger-came]

I'm 'bout to die Yet the thing on my mind seems to nearly be nothing but you

—Partner in Crime by Madilyn Mei

[averageallogene]

Lyney ♡⊹˚ His lucky charm [NSFW]

✧˖°. Summary: Before his most recent shows, Lyney seems to have some nervousness regarding his abilities as a magician. Thankfully, his lovely girlfriend is always there to ease his mind beforehand, providing him with the luck her magician boyfriend needs.

fem. reader (3rd person) ; this is basically smut with little more than an intro to it, so beware. Also SPOILERS for ACT I of the first Fontaine Archon Quest. 

5k words.

notes. Hi yes hello I am back, I have played the two Archon Quests, and after working a little for my thesis I decided to write something by my own volition <3. I’m not sure if Lyney here might be portrayed accurately but nonetheless I really wanted to write a smaller piece for him before doing it for other characters! He’s adorable :( ♡ Enjoy ✧˖°

By clicking on the “expand”, you are hereby agreeing to view NSFW content. PLEASE if you are under 18, DO NOT INTERACT. 

PLEASE do not report, as this is my warning to those who do not wish to view NSFW. I, like most writers, work hard on each piece we choose to publish, and reporting it will decrease the number of readers it reaches... Thank you for understanding ✧˖°

Magicians have no need for something many folk cling onto - luck. After all, every trick they perform is something they study, polish, rearrange, rehearse. Everything is staged to the finest of details, leaving no room for unpredictable variables to enter the equation. Every performance is acted out accordingly, a mental checklist going on inside the performer's mind as each prop is placed and moved about, each line is repeated from the rehearsals, each movement in one’s body is carefully played out. Everything is a carefully crafted performance, and what need do they have for luck? None.

To Lyney, such is the truth. Well, at least this philosophy held itself rock solid, up until the incident that nearly landed him a guilty verdict. Despite his confidence in his abilities to wow the crowds, even before there would always be a small but ever present pitter patter to his heart, a quiet reminder of his own nervousness before the show would begin. He would usually handle himself most well, though through the eyes of those closest to them, the normal feeling of “performance jitters” wasn’t all that well hidden. Well, and if that were the case, more so after things went back to normal.

His breathing would be a little more unstable, his fingers would fidget with one of his cards as his eyes darted about his changing room. He would fiddle with his exquisite hat, rebraid his hair while trying to ease himself. Things had gone back to normal, their scheduled shows were once more popular and always fully booked. Yet still, there always was this sense of anxiety deep in his stomach, never truly going away as he quietly wondered if the show would go as planned. 

Well, thankfully he had someone to help ease his mind each time. And as if right on que as he brooded over the upcoming performance, a knock to his dressing room was heard, the door opening to reveal the loveliest of sights. At the door stood [F/N], his lovely girlfriend who would always visit him before he went on stage. 

“Hi Lyney! Hope I’m not intruding?” She asked sweetly, smiling his way which only helped to ease his worries.

“You never are, my love. Come in!” He breathes out, the eagerness to have her close not quite passing unnoticed to her. He extends his arms before fully taking her in his embrace, sighing deeply as he inhales the familiar perfume she would always wear. His favorite. 

“How are you feeling?” [F/N]’s voice grows softer, her arms resting around his lower back as she smiles his way. The silence that follows is enough of an answer, her magician simply distracting himself with playing with the tips of her hair. “...Nervous?”

“...Hah, why it seems nothing really blinks past you. I may have taught you… Too well…” He jests, the smile on his face betraying him before it drops slightly. It reveals some of his vulnerability for her, his violet eyes locking with her own before he speaks up again. “I suppose it’s just some performance jitters again, nothing new...”

“It’s okay Lyney. You’ll do great, I know so.” Her smile shone brighter than the very sun, beaming with warmth that was only cast to him. It comforted his very being, filling his conflicted heart with sugary sweetness that only soothed him in a way no one else could. And if that wasn’t enough, the next few sentences were the ones that would always, always seal the deal for him. “Everything will go well, and everyone will be wowed by your hard work. I’m proud of you.”

It was as though his heart was struck, pierced with cupid’s arrow as he couldn’t keep up the calm and confident act. Lyney’s body visibly relaxed, a content snicker escaping his lips as his arms brought her closer. His lips were quicker than his words, filling her face with brief yet lovely kisses, watching with glee as she giggled as a response. Amidst each kiss he whispered words of gratitude for her support, his hands roaming throughout her lower back as he yearned to feel her closer and closer. 

“Lyney… You didn’t even let me finish!” She laughed, her words being cut off with a deeper kiss as his lips found her own. She could feel his smile against her lips, the magician quite literally stealing her breath away before finally pulling away. 

“Oh, I’m sorry dear. I just can’t contain myself, you’re just too adorable for me to!” He sighed, the flamboyant hum in which he spoke glittering the otherwise full truth she very well knew. “To think a professional magician would be wowed in such a way, you’ll be the death of me…”

“You almost make it sound like I’m such a bad thing.” [F/N] rolled her eyes playfully, her fingers carefully adjusting his hair before inspecting to see if his braid was well done. 

It was in small moments like so that Lyney would cease to speak, allowing his beloved to do as she pleased. His eyes would focus solely on her, watching how her expression would shift, her eyes roaming about to ensure he looked his absolute best. He could feel his heart beating hard against his ribcage, no longer solely because of the nervousness he would feel before each one of his shows. The mere sight of his girlfriend was enough to blow away the growing blaze of anxiety, leaving it only in embers that with time would cease. Her mere care, her mere nature, her beauty inside out… 

It was enough to leave Lyney riddled into little more than a lovesick puppy, the loopy smile upon his pretty face being reserved only for her. 

“Lyney?” [F/N] called for him once more, watching as he finally seemed to come back to. His hands were roaming around her hips, carefully circling around her figure as he finally let out a soft hum for her to continue. “You’re a little too quiet… Everything okay?”

“I’m so lucky to have you, [F/N]...”

It was her turn to be left speechless, her face morphing to surprise as their gazes locked. He watched as the loveliest shade of red adorned her cheeks, the flusteredness he’d often cause on her never failing to amuse him. Still, despite so, he hoped she knew just how sincere he was with his words. 

“Oh Archons… What’s gotten into you?” Her voice whined a little lower, her eyes turning away to avoid him for a mere instance in which her flusteredness was still far too raw. She could feel how his lips chased after her skin, peppering her with light and soft kisses by the corner of her mouth. 

“Nothing.” He responded, his usual flair dropping to soft whispers as he carefully turned her around, helping her have a seat on his vanity. Between fleeting kisses, Lyney took the opportunity to bring himself between her legs, his hands never letting her stray far from himself. “I just wish to remind you more often, because it’s the truth.”

“Well I think it’s the other way around, you know… I’m the one that’s lucky here.” [F/N] smiled softly, her hands finding rest on his shoulders before gently massaging his tense muscles. Her boyfriend leaned back, his eyes gleaming with a twinkle that seemed familiar, one of challenge and mischievousness that would often leave her questioning before finally realizing what he’d plotted. 

“My my, is that so?” He hummed, head tilting to the side while his grip on her tightened ever so slightly. “If that’s the case, how come each time you visit me beforehand, every show I perform runs far better than what I expect?”

“Oh, you’re really running with that?” She giggled, music to his ears. “Only because I kissed you that one time, telling you it would bring you good luck?”

“And did that show not go beyond amazing? In fact, I do believe that was the peak in my career thus far.” He reasoned with a nod to his head, kissing her deeply before resting his forehead against her own. “Therefore, I’m the lucky one here, and you my dear [F/N], are my lucky charm.”

“Oh Lyney…” She sighed softly, stroking her hand through his blond locks slowly. “I didn’t know that tonight my magician was planning to turn me into putty in his hands.”

It was his turn to laugh, quietly, yet full of warmth and endearment. “It’s what you get for stealing this magician’s heart long ago.”

“Ah! I’m gone. Goodbye Fontaine, I am melting from my boyfriend’s words!” [F/N] leaned back dramatically, Lyney catching her before she would fall too far and hit her head against the large mirror of his vanity. The pair laughed in unison, fingers interlacing as he brought her close to himself once more.

“You’ve definitely gotten that dramatic flair from me.” He pointed out, his free hand now resting firmly on her thigh. He watched with hearts in his eyes as she giggled at his comment, shrugging her shoulders before bringing him closer with her legs. 

“I love you.” [F/N] whispered, leaning forward before it being her turn to steal a few kisses for herself. 

It never stopped after that though, one going after the other, kisses lingering longer before them turning into a longer makeout session. The way her lips were always so soft, so warm, the faint taste of her favorite chapstick melting against his own, it never failed to leave Lyney yearning for more, his whole being focusing solely on his lover whilst everything else blurred around them. His tongue carefully peeked through his own lips before swiping across her own, the grin being felt against her mouth as he felt her jolt slightly from the antic. Giving him permission to continue, Lyney carefully led the dance, his tongue meeting her own as they both ignored the need of air, muffled breaths fanning one another as their hands held the other closer, tighter. Before he knew it he was leaning himself forward and her backwards, a little more, his body pressing against her own before they were practically bent with her head touching the mirror behind them. Her legs were pressed against his sides, never letting him stray too far, her hands stroking through his back and hair, sending shivers down his spine as sparks ignited deep within him. 

“L…Lyn-ney…” She murmured between breaths, him finally tilting his head so the two of them could breathe. The way her tongue stuck out of her mouth as she breathed heavily seemed to only entice something further deep within him. “W…What about your show?”

“Worried about that?” He inquired, the clear endearment for her concern being evident in his tone of voice. He leaned closer, voice whispering as he slowly licked the strand of saliva that had dropped down her chin. “We still have time, if that’s what’s troubling you dear.”

“H-Hah…” The words seemed to get stuck on her throat as his hands maneuvered around her frame, carefully parting her legs a little more to give him better access. His fingers quickly grabbed a hold of the hem of her dress, lifting it up slightly before resting his palm on her warm thigh, his lips still remaining close to her own as his very being craved more of her.

“Do you want me to stop?” Lyney softly asked, leaning back as his own breath grew uneven. His face too displayed a lovely shade of pink, his lips redder after the relentless kisses she’d given him. His eyes were glittering with excitement, half-lidded with pure love as he waited for her response. His thumb was caressing her skin softly, the circular motion he did easing her more than arousing her as he searched for her honest answer.

It was embarrassing to admit, but [F/N] absolutely did not want to stop. Her body felt far too hot for her to go back on it now. “I… N-No.”

“Are you certain, dear?” He leaned closer, eyes squinting softly as his breath fanned her face. His hands slithered a little more upwards, giving her goosebumps as they traveled up to her hips. “I don’t want to put you in any situation that might be even a little uncomfortable… I will understand if this is-”

“N-No Lyney, I’m okay.” She nodded her head to reassure him, her hands gripping his clothing tighter as if not wanting him to move an inch away. “I admit, it’s… A bit nerve wracking, given the place but… I still don’t want you to stop.”

He bit his lip, smiling with both excitement and apology. “I’m sorry love, I always seem to get carried away when it’s about you.”

It definitely was the truth, especially given with the way his hands moved around her body. There was always a certain kind of care in each movement, his grip upon her skin tight and loving, as if reassuring himself she was there, with him. Lyney was both selfish and giving when it came to his beloved [F/N], always wanting more for himself, yet always wanting to reassure her she felt properly adored.  

“We’ll have to be-” He kissed her again, followed by another, her lips trying to keep up with his own as he gave her fleeting kisses. “Very quiet- Okay?”

“M-Mhm.” She nodded her head, her face blushing a deeper shade of red as his fingers finally lifted her skirt up. Her own hands helped him hold it up for him, watching him as it finally dawned on her, his figure getting nice and cozy in between her legs before he kneeled down. “L-Lyney?”

The grin he gave her was enough to make her lower region throb. 

“I’m craving a taste of you, baby. Could you please indulge me?” He whispered, his hands parting her legs before resting securely against them. His head turned to her left thigh, leaving a trail of small bites and kisses as he came closer, delighting himself in every reaction she offered him, every gasp and jump, every attempt at caging his head in between her legs. 

“J-Just- Don’t tease me, please.” [F/N] outright pleaded, earning herself an honest nod of his head as his eyes sparkled in anticipation. 

Carefully, her eyes jumped back at the closed door before going back to him, her breath trembling as she breathed out from her parted lips. Whilst one hand held her dress up, the other slowly lowered, helping him to remove the lacey underwear that hid his most wanted prize away. And with a lift of her hips, they were off easily, hanging by her ankle as Lyney’s gaze focused solely on the erotic view before him. His [F/N], holding her dress up for him, sat on his vanity as her chest rose and lowered irregularly, her pussy in full display for him alone. It was enough to get him aroused, the fabric of his own clothes becoming far too constricting as he felt his boner raging to be freed.

His experienced hands crept closer, thumbs slowly hovering her juicy lips before deliciously parting them. He could feel his mouth go dry in an instance, the view of her leaking pussy outright hypnotizing him as she let out a quiet moan. He couldn’t help himself but play around with her pussy lips a little, after all, how could he not? The way her pretty hole would throb in want, leaking out her nectar only for him, dripping down her skin and onto his table, the squelching sounds being nearly enough for him to lose all sense of control. He couldn’t help himself but stare, watch in lust before her soft moans and whines became a little too loud, all the while still arousing him even further.

“Lyney!” She pleaded in a whisper, the pout she offered him sending his heart racing. 

“Yes, you’re right baby… I’m sorry.” He hummed, leaning forth before finally giving her heat a long, slow and deep lick. The vibrations from his hum resonated with her pussy, sending pleasant shockwaves throughout her body as she shut her lips right before moaning. “We’re gonna have to be quieter, love. Can you do that for me?” 

It was difficult to hear him when he was practically squishing his face against her pussy, yet from the mere fact he’d stopped, [F/N] had been able to deduct what he wanted from her quickly enough. She nodded her head eagerly, blushing even deeper as she bit her lip.

“Mhm… ‘M sorry…”

It truly divided Lyney’s heart in two, for he absolutely adored hearing every sound [F/N] would bless him with. Her voice already was pure melody for his ears, all the more when she would be moaning due to his administrations. However, the pure excitement of their ordeal, having a chance of being caught, it was enough to keep him going, to entice him to lick more, to lap around her clit again, to suckle on it whilst plunging one of his fingers deep inside. The way his beloved would instead jolt more often, writhe above him, attempt to suffocate him as her legs tried to close around him, all to not be as vocal, it all had him entranced. 

"You taste so good…" He groaned against her folds, his tongue practically spelling out his love for her as he ate her out with such passion. The groans and sighs that would escape him would only please her further, sending [F/N] closer and closer to her own release as she practically bit down her tongue to quiet out her own moans. Lyney simply couldn't have enough of her taste, lapping every last drop to his greedy tongue as he yearned for more, fingering and licking it out of her as he could feel her gummy walls throb against his fingers. "You're so wet, too… So dirty, my angel."

"L-Lyney…" She mumbled, her erotic whine finally pulling him out of his trance to look her way. By that point she'd already held her fingers around his hair, him not even noticing up until that very moment. 

His light eyes glanced up, for a moment the magician forgetting how to even breathe. It felt as though the wind was knocked out of him, staring up to see his beloved gazing down at him with such a needy look. Her cheeks were flushed, the thin layer of sweat visible on her forehead as her grip on his hair tightened softly. Her teeth were by that point gritting tightly against the hem of her dress, it being her faint attempt at keeping her noises down to a minimum as he ate her out to his heart's content. The view was dirty, marvelous. The dress was lifted to such a way he could now see part of her tummy as well, her body lined with sweat as it reacted to every little touch he gave her. 

It drove Lyney over the edge. He couldn't wait any longer. The breath finally left his mouth in a shaky notion, her thighs shaking like jello as it hit her bare pussy before he got up. 

"Gods, you're so gorgeous [F/N]." He outright moaned, his fingers carefully taking the fabric out of her mouth. He watched how she heaved deeply, her lips tempting him to latch onto them. And who was he to refuse, but a poor magician whose heart had been stolen by the woman before him?

He leaned in quickly, capturing her lips against his own as they both moaned against one another. Their hands couldn't let go of the other, fiddling with their clothes as they attempted to find the best position to finally get what they both wanted. [F/N] leaned herself to the edge of the table, her legs still apart for him as her fingers now fiddled with his belt, unbuckling it before finally freeing him of his leather shorts. Lyney could feel his cock throbbing already, eager to finally plunge inside of her spongy walls and ease the yearning he so deeply felt. He groaned against her lips as she finally freed his hard length, pumping it for him slowly as it was now her turn to suck on his tongue with her own lips. 

"I need you, Lyney…" [F/N] moaned, helping him to part her legs further as he kept his face closer to her own. 

"I know, baby, I know. It's only fair I indulge you after you've treated me so well, right?" He hummed with a smile, all the while his face indicating just how excited he was. 

He grunted quietly as he carefully rubbed his cock against her leaking folds, the two of them attempting to quiet their moans down to the best of their abilities. [F/N] could feel how the particularly protruding vein on the side of his cock rubbed against her pussy, sending tears to the corners of her eyes as she felt herself closer and closer to her release after being so well tended to by her lover. Lyney in turn kissed her tears away, his lips never leaving her face as he practically gulped down her moans to himself. After coating both her pussy with his pre and his cock with her bountiful juices he stopped, lining himself with her entrance before, with a glance shared, he carefully thrusted himself inside.

His hands gripped onto her knees, his lips shutting themselves tightly so as to not moan out as he often would. The way his eyebrows furrowed as he attempted to not voice much of the obvious pleasure he was feeling was a delightful view, [F/N]'s face blushing madly as she brought him closer. Her arms wrapped around him tightly as she hid her face against his neck, her lips pressing against his skin as she quietly whimpered in pleasure. 

"Ah, Lyney!" She moaned quietly, her nails digging into his shoulders as his own sighs of pleasure hit her ear. 

"You're so tight, baby-" He in turn hissed gently, feeling how her spongy walls swallowed him whole as he finally bottomed out. His own hands were gripping harshly against her skin, the two of them sharing moans between one another even as his tip hit her deepest part. "Fuck, you're so wet. It feels so good."

"Please Lyney, give me more…" [F/N] pleaded to him, her eyes wide and glistening with pleasure as she leaned back for an instance. At that point she was once more leaning back against the rest of his vanity, granting him access to pound as deeply as his heart desired. The mere sight of her in such a way was enough for him to derail. 

"Archons, anything for you [F/N]." The magician grunted, his hands leaving her knees as his lips latched onto her own. 

By her own she was able to open her legs as widely as possible, the hem of her dress covering everything from the mid-thigh up as her hands were far too busy around his body. They wrapped around him tightly, effectively caging Lyney in between her much to his contentment. His own hands were busy holding her as close as possible, resting on her hips securely as to not knock her or anything else out, the items on his furniture tumbling slightly with every thrust he pounded into her needy core. With each time he bottomed out Lyney reached deeper, the tip of his cock effectively kissing her cervix as he molded her walls to his shape. He drank her every moan as if he worshiped all sounds she offered, his lips sucking on her tongue in such a lewd manner that he couldn't help but grin over how she squeezed him harder over it. 

"Hyaahhhh, Hinhey…" [F/N] attempted to moan his name out, her puffy lips parted as his own toyed with her tongue to his pleasure. 

He could feel the way she was milking him dry, her juices thoroughly coating his cock generously as her pussy practically praised and outright worshiped him. Her walls throbbed deliriously, sending him closer and closer to his edge as he fucked her through what he very well knew was her approaching orgasm. 

"Is my baby- Close?" He leaned back to speak, humming quietly while licking his own lips eagerly. He watched as she nodded her head quickly, her fingers combing through his hair slowly, deeply. Just how he loved it. "Here, cum for me will you? You can take me like this as you do, right baby?"

[F/N] bit her lip, nodding her head again. She watched how one of his hands left her hips, holding it up for her to take it. His girlfriend took it without thinking twice, their fingers lacing together before Lyney held them against his mirror, his pace quickening up. Once more he glued his lips to hers, never quite truly satisfied with her kisses just as much as he never quite got enough of her pussy. Her breath against him grew ragged, her moans growing ever louder, all while trying to suppress them in what he could only find the cutest whines. He bent her more, held her tighter, he pounded deeper into her. He could feel her moans vibrate against his mouth before she finally gasped, a high pitched sob being all she could muster before her inner walls violently spasmed around him, creaming his cock bountifully as she rode her high. Even still, just as he'd asked her to, Lyney continued to thrust, still as deeply albeit slower, letting her savor her release just as he quickly followed with his closing one. 

"Gyah, L-Lyney-!" [F/N] moaned against him, he in turn shushed her in understanding. "Mmm, t-to much!"

"I'm so close baby, so close…" He whispered, his thrusts a little less rhythmic as he tried to focus. His eyes opened to gaze deeply into hers, the sight of her red cheeks and unfocused eyes only edging him further deep into the abyss of pleasure. "Can you please take it just a little more? Just like this…”

“Mhm…” She eagerly nodded her head, the tears of overstimulation streaming down her face sending a long shiver down his spine. His free hand came to rest upon the side of her face, thumb clearing the tears away as his grip on her other hand tightened. “I-Inside, please.”

He bit his tongue gently as he smiled, nodding his head before pulling her head closer for a deep kiss. “Anything for my lovely lady.”

Against him she moaned, him in unison as he felt the knot deep inside himself finally snap. Lyney felt his eyes shut, a deep low grunt leaving his throat before he finally felt his release wash over him. He thrusted deeper still, his pace finally slowing down as thick ropes of seed flooded over [F/N]’s inner walls. Her womb was eager to receive the abundant load, being painted white from inside out as it overflowed whilst he still remained sheathed inside. Whilst their fingers were still locked she brought him closer, holding him tightly as her body shivered with the overstimulation. Lyney could feel his breath finally begin to slow down, a few final slow thrusts of his hips following as he moaned quietly, ensuring he was milked for all he was worth. He held his [F/N] close, as close as possible, their bodies finally relaxing as they rested atop his vanity, her body welcoming him closer as his seed leaked down and dropped onto the ground.

Even as she still regulated her breath, lips puffy and red and mascara slightly smudged from the sweat and tears, Lyney lunged forward, capturing her lips for the millionth time. Never satiated, like the greedy man he was at heart, he smiled against her as he enveloped her closer, relishing a moment longer. The silence that followed felt comforting, the two of them sighing in bliss as he felt her arms around his figure. 

“Sorry… It must’ve been uncomfortable to sit like that, on such a surface.” He stated, eyebrows furrowing softly as his thumbs cleared her smudged makeup as much as he could. Lyney dared not move, still not even wanting to pull out. It wasn’t as though he could anyway, for the way [F/N]’s legs captured him definitely sent a message for him to stay a little longer.

“Mhm, it’s fine… I enjoyed it all the same.” She smiled sheepishly, relishing in his soft touches as she in turn rearranged his side swept bangs. 

“I’m glad.” He sighed in relief, the pair too engrossed into one another to even notice how some bottles had tumbled over amidst their frolicking. “Still, next time I’ll be sure to make up for it, for all of it.”

“Lyney, truly it’s fine!” [F/N] laughed softly, finally opening her legs for him to move more freely. She watched in amusement how her boyfriend coughed softly upon noticing how heavy she leaked, rummaging through the room to find a towel he could dampen to help clean up. “Sorry… We might’ve taken too long, no?”

“Hey, if anything it’s my fault… It’s what I get for being so greedy.” He reassured her with a sincere smile, carefully helping her to clean up before dressing her back up. [F/N] watched as he fanned his face with his hand, the blush on his face still evident as she helped him dress up as well, a snicker escaping her pretty lips at the sight. 

“Well… I still… Very much enjoyed it.” [F/N] reiterated, her voice low as she helped him button up his undershirt. His smile was difficult to ignore, especially so as she helped him retrace the tear he would always paint on his right cheek. 

“...I did, too.” He pulled her closer by the waist, smiling in a devilish, albeit inoffensive manner. He pulled her closer, stealing a deeper kiss as he relished on the taste of her lips, hoping to steal some of her chapstick for himself so he could taste it all throughout his performance. As he pulled away, he whispered quietly to her, fingers playing with the end of her hair. “...Maybe next time we do this, I can have you turned to my mirror. The faces you make are simply delicious, my dear.”

The way [F/N]’s face turned to utter surprise was enough of a reaction, the magician following with a sneaky laugh as he pinched her behind as the cherry on top. In turn, his girlfriend gently slapped his arm, huffing as her cheeks turned bright red, his laughter becoming louder as a result.

“Lyney!” She groaned, nearly turning around from him in embarrassment.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry baby! Mostly.” He chuckled, embracing her before kissing her cheek with the usual level of endearment that was solely reserved for her. 

“Hmph…” She pouted, though both knew it wasn’t something to last long. “...Good luck on your show, honey.”

“After this? It’ll be the best show yet…” He in turn whispered, his forehead resting against her head as they quieted down. “I’ll see you after?”

“I’ll be waiting here.” [F/N] smiled softly, them embracing one another before finally deciding to part.

Well, Lyney had always been energetic in his performances, yet there seemed to be an improvement on that particular one. True to his word, that performance definitely did do amazingly well, becoming the talk of the following weeks.

All thanks to his lucky charm.

[kopivie]

as a continuation of this post.

you squeeze your eyes tight and wait for the worst to happen. you can only imagine what sort of pain you were about to be subjected to. your stomach churns as your mind conjures up the sickening sounds of bones crushing and teeth gnashing; of flesh being ripped from the bone and blood being splattered like paint upon a canvas. you wait, and you wait as the gardemek gets closer. you can practically taste the putrid steam that pours from its nostrils. you wait and you wait...

...but death never comes. or at least, not in the way you expect it to.

"at ease."

his voice is gruff, like he's speaking through his teeth. you've never heard him like this before. on any other occasion he's calm, cool, and collected; he normally sounds like he has everything under his control. but right now, after hearing him sound like he's holding himself back, you wonder what expression he's wearing.

you're paralyzed with fear. your entire body is taut and wound tight, almost as though rigor mortis has already set in. but you're not dead, you have to tell yourself. you're not dead. you repeat that phrase over and over like a mantra in your head even as the presence of the three-headed gardemek diminishes. you're not dead. you're not dead, not dead, not dead not dead not--

"you're okay."

your eyes may still be closed, but you know he is here. he is right in front of you. you can feel it. you can feel him. his hands are ghosting over your frame -- your hair, your neck, your shoulders, your cheeks. you can smell him, rich and heady -- intoxicating. hell, you can practically taste him with how close he seems to be.

he calls your name. his voice is still rough, but it is becoming softer as he speaks. perhaps he doesn't want to scare you any more than he already has. "look at me," he begs. he pleads. would he grovel if you asked him to? "please, look at me. open your eyes, my love. you're safe. it's been taken care of."

your neck feels stiff as you shake your head.

you feel his hands finally come to rest on your cheeks. his hands are calloused and cold, yet also warm and grounding. his touch sends a shiver down your spine. your joints creak as you bring your hands up to cover his own.

"that's it," he breathes. "i'm right here. breathe with me. i'm here. nothing will hurt you while i'm here."

your breathing is shallow, but he, wriothesley, is patient. he is always patient when it comes to you. four beats pass, then six, then ten. your breathing is stable and he is still here, grounding you to this plane of existence. finally, finally, you open your eyes.

and there he is. pale grey eyes stare back into your own. maliciously, your mind wanders to the sky above the overworld. you wonder if today is sunny. perhaps the sky is overcast. if it is, you wonder if the clouds are the same color as his eyes.

you used to seek refuge in nature whenever times got tough. but since you won't be returning home for the forseeable future, you let your mind run free. you start to sink as you return his gaze. lower, lower, and lower still. the closest you will ever get to seeing the overworld again is by staring into his overcast eyes. you hope and pray to whatever god exists that you'll get a glimpse of some cumulus cloud reflected through his irises. but when reality inevitably hits you, when the adrenaline starts to bleed from your pores and your body starts to deflate, you realize that the only thing that's reflected in his eyes is you.

he does not dream of the overworld. he does not dream of freedom like you do. he does not wish for a life outside of these walls. he wants for naught but you.

you feel bile sour your tongue. some savior he is. your words of thanks become rotten and disgusting. you swallow it all back and tear your eyes away from him. "i want to lay down." your voice is hoarse. "take me to my room." belatedly, you add a, "please."

he regards you closely. he analyzes you, scans you like the very gardemek that you nearly lost your life to mere moments ago. in times like these, you wonder just how much difference exists between him and the very mechanical beasts he commands.

his hands leave your face and he sighs. you recognize that sigh. defeat. he won't get any gentle treatment from you today either. but you know he won't think much of it. he never does. he will try again tomorrow.

hopefully, you think as you march to your room, he does something about that monster.

[muffinsin]

Hey muffin, it's weird. Let's do more cat sisters if you wanna. Like deep dive cat. Can they ever be found sleeping contorted into odd postures or like over the back of two chairs and a sofa. Can you imagine all 3 sisters trying to sleep in that one warm sunbeam in winter. Or finding a nice place to perch and shoving the others off as only 1 can be king of the stump. I don't think catnip would work but maybe Donna could come up with an alternative that does. And how quick would Alcina ban it. Just three not!cat mutants. And how they definitely aren't just cats in fly form.

Oooooh this one caught my attention right away, thank you hon XD Let’s get into it! One big HC for em all this time! :)🙌

(repeating previous HCs regarding this topic, so they’re all in this one🙇‍♀️)

Other related posts:

Laserpointer HC

Purring HC

Masterlists

There is, of course, the most obvious trait: the purring

Bela purrs the loudest, at any little touch she receives from the ones she loves and treasures. Whether this be her lover, sisters, or mother. She purrs the easiest in those situations too, from mere praise or head scratches

Cassandra is the most embarrassed about her purring. She can’t control it, and she dislikes this. Ah, but perhaps- only perhaps- she will learn not to mind it when her lover scratches her scalp just right

Daniela, our energetic love bug. She purrs very easily, and proudly so. She purrs at any compliments from her many crushes, cuddles, even kisses pressed to the top of her head by her sisters and mother. It’s a way for her to express her adoration and happiness, to her

Of course, the first time they have purred this way, Alcina was very caught off guard. She was lounging in her large bed in her room, freshly reborn daughters sprawled out on her lap

Bela in the middle, with her head on Alcina’s collarbone and little hands clinging onto her nightdress although she was worried her mother would leave. Cassandra stuck strictly to her right, demanding more of the head scratches and whining whenever Alcina’s fingertips stopped moving against her head. And of course, Daniela, her youngest, on the left, clutching her arm as she eagerly accepted the scratches under her chin

Suddenly though, nearly in synch, purrs came from all three daughters. Naturally, Alcina was confused. If it was not for the few flies that still swarmed about or rested on her, she’d have perhaps been worried Mother Miranda mixed cats rather than flies with the cadou

Alas, upon approaching this subject, she learned it is her girls’ many, little fly wings flapping against one another in excitement, content, or happiness

She thinks it’s adorable

Then, there is the headbutting and staring at empty spaces

Yes, the headbutting, of course. Now, Alcina adores this. She often finds herself yelping in surprise when Daniela flies past, merely to return, shoot her a large, happy grin, headbutt her stomach, then runs off again

It seems, all three of her daughters have such a trait

Such as when Cassandra brings home a large prey for supper, and receives happy, thankful head buts in return. She of course returns these, all three daughters purring contentedly

Or when Alcina reads to them, she often feels a smaller head bump into her sides or arms, a silent appreciation. She shoots her daughters a loving smile each time

Then, there is the staring, and the apparent urge to cause trouble sometimes, or perhaps only to knock things over

Often, she tilts her head in confusion when she finds her fierce little Cassandra staring at the wall, teeth bared at times even. Yet, there is nothing there, and her daughter doesn’t claim there is, nor that there is not. Alcina normally leaves her to it- it doesn’t quite harm anybody or anything- until Cassandra does pounce, and her nails dig into the wallpaper

Or when she keeps Bela on her lap to cuddle and nap while she works; an activity that was sadly nearly entirely lost to time as the woman became older, more mature and busy. Still, Alcina remembers having her little pile of flies on her lap while she works, dozing off contentedly and occasionally flexing her small claws, small purrs soothing her mother even when she grows tired of her work. Ah, but I’m getting sidetracked

In such times, she was working, filling out paperwork with one hand, the other tangled in Bela’s hair to scratch her scalp. That is, until the blonde would sit up and stare at the far corner of the room

Why? Alcina hasn’t found out to this very day

Another thing are their odd sleeping positions, and the (thankfully quite temporary) clinginess

Bela loves to sleep in tight spaces especially, or even just relax in them. Often, Alcina has opened her closet and nearly shrieked in surprise to find Bela wedged between shoe cartons, nearly covered in her dresses with only a small part of her poking out. Distressed about the small space her daughter is in, Alcina has always lifted her up and out. After a month or so, she realised this is futile- Bela merely always returns

Still, when she opens her closet and sees her daughter napping contentedly between the boxes, she leans down to scratch her lightly behind her ear, presses a kiss to her forehead, then closes the closet door for her again. She knows by now, this is Bela’s safe spot, and it’s by far too adorable to hear the purring even through the closed closet door

At times, too, she finds Cassandra wedged in small gaps under a wall, her legs tucked up and her head resting on her arms as she snores away

The first time she has found her this way, Alcina nearly cried in happiness. She had been looking for her middle child for hours, having been unable to find her. Her worrying mind went as far as to fear her sweet, stubborn child went out to hunt in the cold and would forever be lost

Thankfully not. Still, Cassandra shrieked when she was finally pulled from her hiding spot, grumbles and complains leaving her lips and- at last- loud whines when Alcina noted how filthy she was from the dirty spot she’s hid in

To this day, Alcina knows Cassandra likes to hide there. Tucked away near the guest chamber, a small path hidden behind a fireplace. A tiny gap in the wall where she rests on the floor

She never bothers her there, she knows it’s her daughter’s spot to retreat and relax. Still, when she calls Cassandra and sees her covered in dirt, dust, and blood, the woman is in for a bath

And Daniela, of course, is also quite fond of odd sleeping positions. Her favourite by far, though? To stretch alongside edges of things

Yes, that’s right. Now, sometimes this means the edge of a sofa. Here, Alcina is quick to place many pillows on the ground in case her precious youngest daughter falls. Still, Daniela looks so content and happy, snoring lightly and fully stretched out, she doesn’t have the heart to stop her

At other times, Alcina all but yanks her in her arms

Such as when she finds Daniela at the edge of the balcony or a window sill, stretched out as usual and daring to fall off the edge and far down below

Immediately, the redhead’s eyes snap open and she whines when she is picked up and cradled, Mother’s fussing and worried scolding meeting rolled eyes and yawns. In the end, Daniela is happy to sleep in Alcina’s arms too, really

Lastly regarding the sleeping dilemma: there is one thing all 3 sisters like to do: which is to bask in the sun

Now, in summer this isn’t a problem. The castle has plenty warm spots for them in the gardens, or even in the woods. And they do so prefer stony surfaces. Alcina knows this, having often watched them first roll around on it and smudge their cheeks against it, then relax and doze off in the sun. Again, this poses no issue at all in summer

In winter however, when there is sun and the temperatures are still too low…it becomes a little challenging. Specifically, because all three women share one spot they like to sleep on: Alcina’s window sill

The sun hits it perfectly, and all three daughters know it. As such, Alcina hears them bicker for a couple of minutes, before finding them piled on top of each other, eyes closed and silent purrs and snores filling the room, limbs sticking out and bodies almost melting together in a large pile of flies so that the woman has difficulty telling whose hand is the one sticking out and who has lost her heel

Now, there was a period of time of incredible clinginess. Thankfully, this seems to have been limited to the few months to a year after their rebirth

Still, Alcina remembers it vividly

She remembers the chorus of screams when she would only close the door of the bathroom to use the toilet. The loud “Mama!”’s from the other side, almost wailing to be let in and back to her side. “Cassandra!”- her scolding when she heard claws move against the door, only to hear two more sets against it too, the eldest and youngest copying their sister. “I’ll be just a moment, my darlings!”- this never quite helped, merely resulted in more wailed yells

The second the door opened, however, three pairs of golden puppy eyes looked up at her. Bela’s; wide and bright, her arms slowly raising in a silent question to be picked up by her mother. Cassandra’s; dark, but wide, eyebrows furrowed and hands hidden behind her back as though Alcina didn’t know of the wood from her door that stuck to her claws. And Daniela; her eyes wide and teary, her bottom lip trembling and shaky arms raising in a request to be picked up as well. “Mama…!”

Of course, Alcina could never stay mad at her sweet daughters, and merely scooped the three women up in a hug

There are their other traits, too, such as their choice of toys and the gifts they retrieve sometimes

Bela loves strings. These are her favourite toys by far. While she won’t chase after them quite as much, Alcina enjoys the gleeful giggles from her daughter’s lips when she raises the string over and over again, Bela’s hands raising in an attempt to snatch it

Often, she brings her mother a piece of string; bright golden eyes looking up at her and pouty lips turning into a large, bright grin when Alcina takes the string from her. She promises, she won’t tell her two younger daughters about it

Cassandra on the other hand loves live toys, such as rats and birds, humans, or animals. As it comes to inanimate objects, however, her go-to is the laser pointer

Often is Alcina nearly rolling with laughter as she points it and watches her middle child race after the small, red dot. She stumbles over chairs and swarms through furniture, her arms outstretched for the dot

Her adorably confused expression when the dot is on her forehead, just between her eyes. Alcina coos at the adorable sight. Cassandra’s eyes going cross as she attempts to spot the shiny dot, her head tilting a little bit in confusion

Alcina’s eyes widen when she sees Daniela’s hips wiggle. She knows, her youngest is about to pounce, for unfortunately: the laser pointer is Daniela’s favourite toy too

And so, predictably so, a loud shriek, “EEK!”, comes from Cassandra when her younger sister tackles her and scratches her in attempt to catch the dot. Still, when the brunette pushes her sister, the dot is quickly forgotten and Alcina must now attempt to detangle her fussy little bugs

Of course, the mother of three often finds herself receiving lovely gifts, too

Bela opts for mice and birds, often brought to Alcina when she works, the animal in her mouth, trapped between her teeth. “Thank you, my smart little girl”, she thanks her daughter each time when the limp little thing is dropped on her desk and Bela swarms in her lap for cuddles and head scratches. She is never denied them, of course

Only once did she bring a possum, yet this was neither dead, nor caught between her teeth, but rather carried in her palms. Alcina nearly fell from her chair when she turned her head and the tiny thing hissed at her

“Mother, can we keep it?”

Then there is Cassandra’s gifts- often a little bloodier, and usually very large. Alcina knows, her fierce little huntress wants to prove herself to her. It seems no amount of reassurances help her darling understand that she will be loved regardless of how impressive her kill is

Still, Alcina often finds wolves, maidens, even a bear head dropped in front of her. Cassandra merely grins widely, her cheeks pink and silent purrs filling the room when Alcina scratches her neck and praises her for such a wonderful gift

Cassandra feels flustered and happy (despite trying to hide both) when she walks past a room and sees Alcina hung up one of her trophies. She feels so proud whenever her kill makes the wall!

Daniela opts for all kinds of gifts. On some days, the mother of three might find beautiful flowers dropped in her lap or standing at her desk, with a small note containing a bloody smiley and a text such as “from your favourite daughter”, or “I love you mama” or “They’re pretty like you, Mother” on it

At other times, she might find mice, deers, or limbs scattered on the floor in her room as a gift from her youngest. Daniela beams happily when she is lifted and receives light kisses all over her face for her gifts

“Thank you, my little fly”. She, of course, goes off to rub her Mother’s happiness about her gifts right into her sisters’ faces

There are times, in which the sisters get startled by the smallest of things, despite the fierce huntresses all three women are

Such as when Bela plays with her string with her mother, her hands eagerly grabbing for it as it is lifted over and over again. It’s all fun and well, until her claw accidentally gets stuck on it and the feeling makes her shake, swarm in shock and surprise, then run right into Alcina. The woman only ever stares in surprise at her daughter. What a curious little thing she is to her

Or when Cassandra could spend her days torturing the screaming victims of the Dimitrescu basement, laugh at and mock them even. Yet, when Alcina happens to drop her fork, she shrieks in surprise and jumps up, swarming high in the air before she drops on her older sister’s lap, hissing around and clinging to her. Cassandra has never lived this down, and never will

Only when the fork is lifted, inspected, and she’s swiped her claw-like nails at it, does she return to her seat with a big, embarrassed blush and a groan when she is immediately teased by her family for it all

And lastly, Daniela too gets startled by the smallest of things sometimes. By nothing at all, really. She is lounging on Alcina’s lap, purring and grinning happily when she receives light scratches on her scalp and under her chin. This is when her golden eyes open and spot her mother’s shoes on the floor. Not that they’re suddenly there or anything

Still, Daniela jumps up and swarms away fast, as though pierced by a needle. Alcina is confused regarding what happened to this very day, yet figures perhaps her daughter has just gotten a random energy burst

Catnip? Flynip?

The first trip with the three sisters to visit Donna was…eventful, really. Alcina thought nothing of it. Of course, she knows of the pollen of the many flowers in the lord’s region. Of course, she looks out for her daughters for this reason

Still, when they show little reaction aside from a little bit of dizziness, and practically beg for Alcina to let them roam freely, she at last gives in, instead opts for a conversation with Donna

Mere minutes later do they hear loud laughter- Daniela, Cassandra and Angie’s. Both lords jump to their feet. They know to be cautious

Still, Alcina can’t help but laugh at the image in front of her when she spots her daughters and the doll in the greenhouse

Bela in the middle of the flower field, twisting and turning, grinning and purring loudly at the orange flowers that surround her, pawing at them and touching some of the petals, the pollen dusting her face and clothing. She giggles and rolls around happily, pupils dilated. “Mother!”, she greets happily. Only when Alcina lifts her from the field and cradles her does she begin to whine, eager to return to the warm flowers

Cassandra giggles as she bites into some of them, her pupils dilated as well as she runs around quickly and rubs her cheek against the orange flowers she passes. She sneezes for a moment when pollen seems to tickle her nose, then continues rubbing herself against the flowers eagerly. She too whines and groans when she is lifted and thrown over Alcina’s shoulder. “Mother!”. Why can’t she keep playing!

And Daniela; pupils dilated and giggling as she rubs herself on the ground, dirt in her hair and clothing, pollen covering her by how much she’s headbutted the flowers. And Angie? Of course, she is making no attempt of stopping her, but rather tickles the poor, squirming thing and giggles when more laughter is drawn from Daniela. She too whines when she is lifted and thrown over her mother’s left shoulder

“Awwh!…Mama!”

[especiallythewomenandthechildren]

As If Destiny (part seven) 🌹

Part Six🌹

Warnings: Terminal illness, parent death, death and brutality (it is the hunger games after all) characters may be ooc. I read the book a while ago but don't really remember much of Snows way of thinking (I mean I know its toxic and insane but yk the other things) so I will mostly be basing off the film and my own thoughts. Also I can't spell for the life of me so be prepared for bad spelling and grammar. Enjoy loves!

⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆

The vast hallways of the academy seemed longer today, while time seemed to speed up. With each step taken, more students seemed to file out of the halls. A quick look at the gold watch on their wrist, and their legs seemed to carry them out from under. In full force, the pristine doors of the academy classroom burst open, revealing a panting Sejanus.

His classmates seemed surprised by the sudden entrance, but more surprised by the fact that he was on time—or he thought he was. The boy took a step inside right as the bell rang, and with nothing more than a sigh, Dean Highbottom notified that "on time" meant being in your seat. Sejanus, still attempting to gain even a breath of air in his lungs, accepted defeat.

As he trudged to his seat, his eyes locked with the blonde boy one desk away. Your absence was all-consuming and isolating. Coriolanus noticed that the dark circles underneath Sejanus's eyes had still not left. They had been there the two weeks you've been gone and they don't seem to be going away anytime soon.

Most would assume that his lack of sleep is connected to the lack of your presence, but Coriolanus knew better.

Tomorrow is Reaping Day.

Sejanus has rarely shown his face most years, and if he has, you have always been by his side. But this year, there is a great understanding if he skipped out. However, you were conflicted whether or not to go. You felt the obligation to Sejanus due to the dark day for him, and you knew he had to be there for the Plinth Prize announcement.

And the announcement was your other felt obligation. You wanted to be there for Coriolanus when he won.

How Snow knew all this was in part due to Sejanus. The two have grown unexpectedly close these past two weeks. They bonded over your absence initially, and it eventually grew into a natural friendship.

Sejanus had always considered Snow a friend; truthfully, the only other person in the Capital besides you. But Coriolanus had been wary of the Plinth boy. He knew his distaste for the Capital, which is obviously not good company to associate with. He couldn't risk his reputation, no matter how sweet he was and the rarity of his character.

But something changed. He cared less and began spending more time with Sejanus. He knew he could trust him, and that was probably the quality he appreciated the most.

No wonder you were connected at the hip with the sweet boy.

He told you so after you ranted about the obligations you felt regarding Reaping Day last night.

You both ranted on and on nearly every single night. While you might not be at school, that doesn't mean you don't go out.

If going out means running in the dark streets of the Capital, only to reach the Snow door breathless and red, painting your features that were broken with a blinding and giddy smile.

A smile, that no matter what was discussed or how many tears were shed just prior at the Plinth house, always appeared. Every day, you did school work dropped off by Rhayen until mid-evening. You then spent a few hours calming and listening to Sejanus ranting on the Hunger Games and inhumanity. You agreed with him that they were cruel and brutal. But you kept the parts you disagreed with to yourself.

The parts that told you that they deserved it. That they needed a punishment just as bad as the one you suffered. They may be innocent but weren't you and the rest of the Capital children in the Dark Days?

These haunting thoughts lingered in your mind until you showed up at the cracking yet comforting ancestral Snow home.

Coryo, even as he studied and completed his assignments, always listened to you. He was the one who reassured you that you were not a cruel monster as you began to believe yourself to be but rather an unfortunate victim of war horror.

He was the one you confessed to about your fears of becoming bitter and cold after your mother's death.

You were in his room as he was working on the paper you long finished. The room, even with the constant dust and mold coating the walls and ceilings, had a fresh aroma due to the open window. Coryo knew you liked the smell of the flowers outside that only seemed to be grown on his side of the city. The breeze lightly moved through his curls, golden-kissed from the sun. It continued on through the portion of hair hanging off his bed where you rested.

The confession wasn't meant to be dramatic or any warning sign. In fact, you didn't even realize what you said until the smooth sound of Coryo's pen ceased to be. Your head lifted from the sunken yet rose-scented pillow. The sight before you was a stiffened Coriolanus with an analyzing expression covering his face as he was turned towards you in his chair. His mind seemed as if it was racing hundreds of miles a minute while you stood still in confusion.

You knew he was far too lost in thought to come out by himself. His eyes snapped back to reality as you sat up from your laying position to face him. You tilted your head in question to his actions and his pondering.

"That's not going to happen. Don't even spend time on that thought because it's not happening." His eyes were hardened by determination. You softened at his concern but you couldn't stop the argument slipping from your mouth.

"You can't say that, Coryo. This world doesn't really have the factors for the kind-hearted to survive. It either hardens or stops beating."

That only seemed to agitate Coriolanus into convincing you further. His legs pushed his chair and himself forward in your direction. He was now situated right in front of you, leaning inward slightly into your space which made it hard to look away. What made it impossible was the evening sun pouring through the window and reflected perfectly onto his mesmerizing eyes.

"You are not going to become cold. I promise you, I will take every hit and scar before you have to harden yourself to the world."

His oath was met with nothing but with searching eyes. They search for lies or hesitation but there was not a single speck of doubt in his golden-filtered blue orbs.

Your body leaned forward in response, with gratitude and tears dancing in your eyes as they also began to be lit up by the sunlight flowing through the window.

Your eyes were locked while emotions and unspoken words flowed between the gaze. It became too intense and you turned your head the split second before Coryo began leaning in. You seemed oblivious of his action as you stared out of his window. A favorite past time of yours it seemed when in his room.

His cheeks were flushed with slight embarrassment and the sight before his very eyes. The sun began to lower and while it still lit up the room and your features. It's rays were intensified on the shimmering diamonds of the silver ring around your neck.

He noticed it the very first night you showed up to his door after the night of your father's wrath. You came to apologize for his actions and plead for forgiveness but there was nothing to forgive, something both Coryo and Tigris assured you.

But as you paced back and forth that night, the dim light of the kitchen caught the small, brilliant blue stones. He saw the other two rings after your mother's funeral but that ring was new.

As you came around more, he swore it looked like snowflakes and felt a little smug but was never sure and never pressed you about it.

However, something overtook the teenager as he took the ring that has puzzled him for weeks. The movement caused you to look back at him. The proximity causing you to nearly smash your head into his.

You angled your head to take in his expression as his fingers grazed over the snowflake-shaped diamonds. You were so glad you did as you got to witness the smile spread across his face. If you had to choose what was more valuable to you: the moment or the ring, you would be tearing yourself in half for a decision.

"Snowflakes."

He peaked up at you beneath his blonde curls with his pearly whites.

Oh never have you made a decision between two things so fast.

The blush that spread across your cheeks was impossible to hide as you avoided his gaze. But it's not like you had anything to hide. The reason you wore the necklace was that it was your mother's.

The reason you wore the necklace was that it was your mother's.

The reason you wore the necklace was that it was your mother's?

"Rhayen told me it was gifted to my mom when she was our age. So-uhm, here it is!"

You never wanted to smack yourself more. Your voice cracked an impossible amount of time for such a few amount of words. You stuttered and acted as if you stole the necklace yourself from Coriolanus's family.

But he didn't see it that way in the slightest. He found it quite endearing and it was an obvious ego boost.

Sure, the reason for you wearing it may have nothing to do with him, but doesn't erase the fact that you are wearing his house ring.

You found his silence nerve-wracking and couldn't help but shrink under the pressure.

"Do you want it back? It's clearly the Snows so it's totally in your right!"

You began to move to take it off and managed to unclasp it before Coryo could stop you. But when you started slipping out the other rings to give him the one in the middle, he put his hands out over yours in a motion to stop.

Once again, the space between you two was quite thin.

"It was a gift to your mother, right? If so, then that means it's yours. And besides, it looks better on you than it would anywhere else."

He attempted to reassure you but you weren't convinced.

"Even so, you know this is worth a lot of money, Coryo. A lot of money that can help you and your family."

He knew this but refused to let it sink in. He was not going to take the one thing he could give you.

"Not ours to sell. It's yours."

The "as it should be" ran through his mind but never past his lips.

Your hands were still being held by the tall boy when he offered to place the necklace back around your neck.

You agreed and turned, moving your hair out the way and stared at the setting sun and brilliant hues decorating the sky. You could feel the cold metal slide back in place and as you felt the metal secure, Coryo moved your hair back in place.

Everything was back in its proper place. Your necklace, hair, and location. You and Coriolanus alone together watching the Capital in all its beauty. As if it all moved to your will.

Reluctantly, you turned your head to once again be met with the intense stare of enamored Coriolanus Snow. And once again, your faces were just mere inches apart.

But the ever-continuing staring contest was broken by the quick knock of Tigris.

"Y/N, Coryo, time for dinner!"

Her voice was slightly muffled by the door but you could hear the exhaustion in her tone. You took a huff of air as you gave a look back to Coriolanus as you got up.

The door opened up to a clearly tired Tigris. But her face no longer sinks in on tireless nights such as these.

And no matter how little she sleeps, there is still a smile gracing her features.

Much of it is due to the constant food and drink you bring whenever you come (nearly every day), lighting the load on her shoulders.

Said food was neatly prepared and smelled delicious. Because of your constant supply of material, Tigris has been able to try out some new recipes and enjoy meals instead of simply eating whatever is necessary for survival. You were even able to smooth-talk your way into Ma Plinth's secret recipes for her.

But it was all food you could not take from. This meal is a crucial part of their survival and you were fortunate enough to be able to have one the same size at home.

That is why you began excusing yourself as they began to settle in. Your excuses of needing to go home and rest did not convince Coriolanus in the slightest.

"Y/N, it's okay to eat. It's the food you brought over anyways!"

He had moved from his position by the table in order to come and take your hand. He saw the slightest hesitation in your eyes and took his chance and began lightly dragging you to the table.

You would have fought back but the delicate figure of his grandmother stopped any sort of action. You didn't wish to be seen as rude and when she noticed you and your hands intertwined with her grandson, you couldn't argue with her sweet smile.

And that is how you ended up at the dinner table with the last remnants of the House of Snow.

Tigris was explaining the new method of clothing construction that is going to overtake Capital fashion when the sound of her ancient grandma'am perked up.

Grandma'am was often silent in meals with a faraway look glossing her aged eyes. She never even seemed to take notice of the conversation nor who went or came. And especially not what anyone wore. But today seemed a day of surprises.

"My, how is the way I find out!"

The three of you all turned to figure out what the cause of her shriek was. Tigris asked what the matter was and the older woman disregarded her question and moved to situate herself right next to you.

You felt small as you sat in the chipped chair while she loomed over you. You shared a look with Tigris, who motioned to wait on any actions. You both needed to let it play out to inform what to do next.

A wrong move and the sweet woman in front of you would be transformed into the vile monster of fables. You've experienced it firsthand.

"What have you found out Grandma'am?" The term came naturally to you as it would have felt too odd to call her "Mrs. Snow" as she is only spoken as Grandma'am now-a-days.

She quickly clicked her tongue and feverishly shook her head. Her wrinkled hands took the silver ring as she analyzed it.

"I thought you were going to go with the one with the big diamond. And dear, it is far more suitable to wear it on your hand. How else will anyone know you are set to marry?"

The silence was strangling. Everything felt so unnatural. Grandma'am's oddly intense smile, a confused and seemingly horrified Coriolanus, and of course, you.

Mistaken to marry.

Marry Coriolanus Snow.

The only one who seemed composed was Tigris. You quickly gave her a look and mouthed to her "news?'

She gave you a quick nod across the table. The small and minute interaction was not lost on Coriolanus, even though he himself was lost. You followed orders and brought up the new renovations of the Capital park.

"The pond is stunning! The ducks are coming back naturally. And the flower garden is such a magnificent sight! You must go, Grandma'am. I could take you there if you wish?"

You finished off with an awkward smile. The panic surging through your veins made you accidentally offer to take her out for a day. Something you knew Coriolanus wished not to happen.

He fears what damage it would cause to his reputation if his grandmother was seen out and about in clothes that dated before the war. Tirgis could likely make something more modern out of those old dresses, but she knew her grandma'am would refuse wholeheartedly.

However, grandma'am quickly took the bait, and the previous topic was long forgotten. She seemed eager to see the flower garden, and your little adventure out. You hoped this would be forgotten just as quickly. By both her and the analyzing Coriolanus.

But if there is one thing about Coriolanus, it is that he never forgets.

So as you both cleared the table later that evening, his stare kept on locking into your moving figure; assuredly, in question and suspicion. He wasn't going to engage first, however.

His mind was making a thousand reasons and explanations instead of simply asking. You didn't wish to leave it to Coriolanus Snow to make assumptions.

"I would recommend having your eyes on the knife when cleaning it, Coryo."

His attention once again had drifted to your side profile as you were drying the dishes he was cleaning. Instead of focusing on the task at hand, he turned off the water and turned his whole body to you. You put the plate in your hands away and mimicked his position.

He didn't say a word and just took you in. His silence and constant picking apart began irritating you.

"Just ask me your questions. I don't like being watched and judged. Who are you, Arachne?"

You had moved around him and began doing the dishes he had neglected. His stare never once left you as he finally shared what was on his mind.

"Would you be ashamed of marrying me?"

You were grateful that you were washing a fork and not a plate because you were sure it would have been dropped in shock. Instead, you let the water run absentmindedly and held the fork so harsh that your knuckles turned white.

Coriolanus didn't know what to make of your reaction. How absent you've become. He feared he just confirmed your answer.

He moved to shut the water off after a few seconds. After all, every drop of water counts.

Is that why you wouldn't want to be with him? Was it his lack of money? That he could (hopefully would soon) change. Or was it him? Was it his family? Was it your family? Would you listen to your father?

Coriolanus also seemed to shift into his universe of panic, eventually mimicking your hold on the fork, but his was the faucet handle. It must have been quite a sight for poor Tigris to walk into.

"Are you both alright?"

She questioned the two teenagers holding onto the objects for dear life and burning holes into the nearest walls with their eyes.

The sudden intrusive voice caused you both to jump, then the realization of the other caused another jump.

Tirgis laughed at your reactions and shook her head. You two were surely the oddest people she knew, and that's saying something.

Or maybe it's what one of you does to the other?

She moved to grab the dusty cabinet handle and clutched a chipped cup. Her every move being watched by you and Coriolanus.

She turned around to the sight of you both wide-eyed and watching her. She felt quite uneasy and now was sure she interrupted something, no matter how strange it seemed to be.

The young adult moves to the sink to fill up her cup, and you both quickly part to give her room. The sound of the water filling up the cup also filled up the stifling silence. Once filled, she took a sip and glanced to her left at you and right at Coryo.

Did both of you lose the ability to blink?

She knew whatever she walked into was most likely Coriolanus's fault, but if she told him as much, she knew you would hear.

And probably the entirety of Panem judging by the quietness of the moment.

She cleared her throat and bid you both good night as she quickly walked and turned the corner. But not with one last look at the two teens doing anything but look at each other.

After she had left, you had gone back to washing the dishes, and Coriolanus drying the dishes. Roles essentially switched as you were now the one staring at him. Trying to find some sort of answer. He didn't know what you would find so he tried to give one of his own.

"I only asked because when grandma'am started talking about the ring and marrying, you looked to Tirgis. You both looked like you were expecting it. I didn't know what to think of it."

You've seen a lot of Coryo these past weeks but seldom has there been a time when he has looked vulnerable. Coriolanus Snow usually knows all and can read people so easily. But being left out of the loop by the closest people he has horrified him. Enough to make himself look like a fool, he thought.

You knew he didn't like feeling these emotions, much less express them. So you paired your explanation with an understanding smile.

"Sometimes when you have to finish up projects or had to run out, grandma'am comes and joins me and Tirgis. I don't mind it really and she usually just sits for the company, not the discussion. But sometimes, she uhm- she thinks I'm someone else. Like today. And me and Tirgis have a little list of topics to bring up when she starts going down that path. Just distract, not refuse."

Coriolanus let it sink in for a moment. He knows his grandmother's dementia overtakes her most of the time. He also knows that while she is mostly non-aggressive, her fury can come to the forefront. Well, she can be happy when lost in her mind; her fury can make an appearance as well.

It saddens him, however, that not only didn't you come to him about it, but Tirgis didn't either.

You noticed his facial expression and tried to assure him that there was nothing more he could have done. He nodded reluctantly and unsure.

"You don't have to take her, you know. To the park, I mean. She forgets everything but whenever you mention flowers, her memory is as sharp as can be."

He mumbled his words; the way his grandma'ams memory worked never ceased to surprise him. With the events and people it forgets and remembers. Especially when it came to you.

You promised it was not an issue for you if it wasn't for him. It might even be nice spending time with her out. The thought of being so close to Coryo's family that you would be taking the most secluded member out made you blush.

By the time you both finished, it had become quite late, and you needed to get home for enough rest. Tomorrow would be the first day you would officially come back to society after the funeral.

If that wasn't exhausting enough, Reaping Day comes with its own load.

Coriolanus, as always, offered to walk you home, but you persuaded him to stay and get as much sleep as possible. Which wouldn't be much due to his nerves and thoughts racing through his system.

You finished putting on your last shoe as you looked up at him. "Meet you here then walk together, right?"

You both talked about the heightened anxiety tomorrow, and if each has the other, the load would feel a little lighter. He nodded in assurance, and you opened the door ready to leave.

But something made you stop, so you couldn't move in the door frame. You turned your head to his face, lit up by the warm and dim lights of the apartment.

"Hey, Coryo?"

His eyes slightly squinted in confusion but waited for you to elaborate.

"I wouldn't be ashamed. Not in the slightest."

You had to duck your head to hide your teeth-bearing smile. You were scared of his reaction, so you quickly shut the door behind you and made your way back home.

In the apartment you left behind, a shocked Coriolanus stood. The shock quickly morphed into a smirk and pride.

When he turned around, donning the brightest smile, a smirking Tigris awaited him. Leaning on the corner wall in dusty pink nightwear, she had observed your little goodbye.

"Seems like you already won the prize, Croyo."

And with that, she leaves the head-over-heels boy in her wake.

He wasn't sure if your confession would give him the best sleep of his life or keep him up all night in thought.

Whatever the outcome may be, the reality of your presence tomorrow would be greater than any dream.

⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆

The girl staring back in the mirror felt foreign, a stranger really.

You haven't changed much these past few weeks physically. A little bit of lost weight and slightly paler, but nothing unless you look for it.

But something behind your eyes was a calling sign of a shift. The last wish of your mother's came rushing back.

Don't change.

The reflection showed your straight posture while you donned a black midi dress with elegant blouse sleeves and sleek angular trimming on the neckline. Your hair was styled neatly with dainty pearl earrings and, of course, the necklace of rings.

Have you changed?

The ever-present little voice says that's not even a question anymore. The relevant one is how much?

You checked the small clock on your desk and noticed you needed to leave, or you are gonna end up running to Coriolanus's home. You check your reflection one last time, debating whether or not to display the rings.

Well, that ring. You would have enough eyes already; you didn't need any other unnecessary gossip.

You picked out obsidian black shoes to match with your dress. You were finishing up the last strap when the front door opened hastily.

The sight of your disheveled father saddened you on this already difficult morning. You haven't seen him since his outburst on the day of your mother's funeral. He has spent the last two weeks in near confinement at his office in the defense bureau.

Wonder where you got the trait of throwing yourself into work from.

If he isn't there, he is most often at his sister's house, your aunt Aeris. He came back to the apartment that seems to haunt him with memories as pale as a ghost. He wanted to get out of there as quick as possible. The only reason he came was that he had forgotten a few important papers. His haste was so intense he nearly missed your presence.

It wasn't until the sound of your hard shoes hitting the marble floor that he was alerted. You both acknowledged each other, but the air was stuffed thick with uncomfort.

Of all the days to reconter each other.

You coughed awkwardly, trying to figure out something to say. Your father seemed to do the same. The silence simply became too much, and you broke.

"You look well."

He didn't. You both knew he didn't. But instead of calling you out, he did a slow nod of acknowledgment. You huffed out a breath and grabbed your small purse as you got ready to walk out.

"Tell Aunt Aeris I hope she is well! Take care, father."

The word felt foreign. Sure, you would always describe him as your father around others, but that was normal in the Capital. You always called him dad. You assumed that you two had a relationship better than most father and daughters in the city but once your mother got sick, he shrunk into himself. The memories and love seeming to dissolve with him.

You opened the door and already had one foot out when he called for you. "Happy Reaping Day."

You paused and turned around, an emotionless expression on your face. You hate that he said that. You hated it because your mother hated today and all the Games stood for. But a significant part of you hated it because of the reminder that the bitterness her death has caused you.

Caused you to start warming to the Games. That's what you hated the most.

"Really, take care of yourself."

You didn't mean it in a harsh way as your tone was soft, but you said it with meaning. He couldn't take care of you, and there would be no reason for him to try to at this point.

You closed the door and left the already broken man to crumble like his life.

The timing of your arrival at the Snow penthouse matched perfectly with Snow's descent outside.

He looked as if an angel had descended from the heights of the universe, in a beautifully designed and crisp dress shirt, no doubt masterfully crafted by Tigris. His golden curls were lightened by the warm morning light. His eyes shined with determination that somehow made him even more handsome.

It took a second for Coriolanus to turn your way and realize your being, and it took a couple more seconds for him to recompose himself while he took in your appearance. You couldn't help but giggle a little and walk over to him. You adjusted the red rose on his vest that had been moved due to the strap of his bag.

"You look even more handsome than I thought possible for one man to be." Coriolanus is used to girls trying to flirt with him and his good looks, but all those compliments can come across shallow, a means to an end.

But yours was completely authentic. The grin that spread across his face was unable to be stopped. He offered his arm, which you gladly took, and began on your way.

He bent over to whisper into your ear as you passed a group of older women who smiled at the pair of you, a sign to them that happiness is an opportunity for the youth now, that even Dark Days haven't stolen that.

"I've stopped being surprised by your beauty. I am just thankful that I'm graced with it."

Oh, the charm of this boy.

The closer you both got to where the festivities would be held in Heavensbee Hall within the academy, the stiffer Coriolanus's arm got. You stole a glance at his face, hardened in worry.

"You do know you are going to win, right?" He seemed to snap out of his thoughts at your words.

"We both know it isn't certain. Maybe if we had a dean who didn't despise me, then maybe I could rest easy. But Highbottom is going to do anything to make sure we don't see a cent of the prize."

He hung his head low, and his shoulders showed a feeling of defeat. This look wasn't normal for Coriolanus Snow and unimaginable to nearly all others. But lately, as you've shown him your vulnerability, he has reciprocated.

You squeeze his arm a little, causing his concern-filled eyes to flutter to your own.

"Nothing is going to stop you from getting the prize, okay? If I need to break into the house of whoever Highbottom wrongly awards it to and steal, I will do it with a smile on my face. You deserve it, Coryo. You've earned it."

He smiled softly at your words and wondered how far you really would go for him.

If only he knew.

"And how are you going to do that? Climb tens of stories and smash through the window?"

He teased you on your ability for malice. You were known for being an unusually sweet person. The image of you trying to rob someone made him chuckle.

As he was laughing in your face, you rolled your eyes.

"I can be very threatening, you know!"

He laughed even harder. Even bending over in laughter. You had enough and immediately stopped, causing the blonde to slightly jerk forward due to the sudden pause.

You grabbed his arms roughly and forced him to look at you. His laughter died in an instant when he saw the seriousness within your eyes.

"Coriolanus Snow, you are going to win the Plinth Prize, and I swear if I hear one more doubt about it, I will be feeding you rat poison myself."

There have been very few times Coriolanus Snow has been wrong, but with the look in your eyes, it was clear that you would be able to carry out your threats.

Once you were sure he got the message and your ability, you let go and started up your walk. He grabbed your arm, pulling it through his and regaining your prior position.

"You know if I don't win, I deserve an apology for the threat." You turned to him with a deep glare and scoff.

"Didn't I literally just say I don't want to hear doubt!"

You were met with a series of heartfelt chuckles. His voice got an octave deeper as he got close to your ear once more.

"I'm not very good at listening to instructions, darling."

⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆

The academy was filled with lively chatter and elegance on every possible surface. Only a few steps in when a certain dark-haired girl stopped in front of both you and Coriolanus.

"Y/N! I didn't know you were going to be able to come!"

Clemensia excitedly said as she moved in for a hug, which you returned. You smiled at your dear friend.

"Ah, well, I couldn't miss the victory gloat of this one."

You slightly turned back to Coriolanus, who softly scoffed at your words. It helped inflate his ego but also your argument about the size of it.

"Well, when you he does, remember I was the humble class partner."

He gave her one of his notorious charming smiles, but internally he was rolling his eyes as dramatically as possible.

The only work Clemensia did was write her name and look pretty.

Coriolanus wondered how things would be if you were his class partner instead of her. If he just said no and rather asked you.

Then again, you had instantly chosen Sejanus as yours. You always stood by him ever since that first conversation. And today was no different when you spotted him on the other side of the hall with his ma.

You bid your goodbyes to Clemmie and Coryo, assuring the latter you would meet up later before the announcement. Even as he locked his arms with Clemmie, who led the way and conversation, he watched you.

He didn't like that you were walking away; the feeling of someone else's arm in his felt like a crime.

But you were completely oblivious to the enamored boy's feelings as you smiled to the Plinths. You were quickly barged with a hug and motherly affection by Mrs. Plinth. As she enveloped you in the squeezing hug, she complimented you endlessly in ways that made your heart warm due to her affection.

Once finally freed, you turned to her sharp-looking son. You gave him a quick hug and assured him of his appearance, which he thanked.

"However, I would rather be wearing rags and be covered in filth than be surrounded by these pig-" the rest of the insults were cut off by your sharp jab done with your elbow into his side.

A group of powerful politicians and businessmen were right in front of you and began engaging in conversation with his mother. You two were unfortunately forced to stand there and be the example of future prosperity they talked so estimably about.

Across the hall stood the ever-judging gaze of Arachne, Festus, and Felix. The group, who stood in the middle, were soon joined by Coriolanus.

"Finally, some viable competition," Arachne admitted as she took in the newest addition to her clique. "Hmm, snazzy shirt. Is that tessare?"

He smiled that irresistible smile. "Huh, so that's why it reminded me of the maid's bathroom."

The red-headed girl looked him up and down in analysis as the other two chimed in.

"Have you tried this lamb? It’s scandalous," a munching Felix added over his plate.

"Ugh. Only the vulgar eat with their fingers, Felix," Crane rolled her eyes at the disgusting display.

"What, Daddy not teach you table manners?" Festus added.

"Maybe he would have if he wasn’t so busy running the country."

Moments like these make Coriolanus question why he was even worried he wouldn't win when he is surrounded by blabbering idiots.

But They had the option to be idiots. He didn't.

His attention was snapped back by a venomous scoff by Arachne.

"She's been back for what? Five minutes? And we don't even get a greeting while she contaminates herself with the likes of them."

Her poisonous gaze was trained on you, who seemed to be charming a group of older patrons and leaders of the financial sector of Panem. Coriolanus didn't like her tone directed to you nor her implication.

"She already said hi to Clemmie. Besides, she came here with me."

That last line caused the group of complicated adolescents to pause. Each turned, with a wrinkle in their eyebrows, to stare at the smirking blonde. His eyes were on your smiling face but didn't waste the moment to turn that smirk on them as assurance.

And just as suddenly as the situation occurred, it was ended with your entrance into the group; which, of course, was right by Coryo's side.

"I hope I didn't enter at too bad of a moment."

You said smoothly and in your tone that no one could ever seem to refuse. There was no hint of inner conflict nor unease in your body language nor voice.

You sure were giving Coriolanus a run for his money in the art of acting.

Felix, Festus, and Arachne shared a collective look of conspiracy. But for some reason, whether it be a feeling of celebration of Reaping Day or to be pocketed for later, they let it drop for now.

"Hey, they called us here for the Plinth Prize, right? Because I heard Dr. Gaul’s in the building."

You looked around and noticed all the key figures who aid and conduct the Hunger Games. It confused you on why they would celebrate the Games here, in the middle of the Capital academy. But the subject changed just as fast as the Capital's attention span.

“Plinth.”

They all turned their heads to snort in his direction, and you refused to follow their gaze of displeasure.

"I mean, look at his spawn."

"Who would have thought that you could buy your way into the Capitol?"

"Well, you can’t buy class."

You've given them enough time to snub him when you perked up.

"Clearly, you all are experts in the lack of class, are you not?"

Instead of the usual nasty retorts and efforts to convince of his lack of worth, Arachne laughed as if you were a misunderstanding child.

"Oh, Y/N, you need to learn to let him understand his place in this world. Besides, you are clearly moving on to bigger and better things."

Her smirk was odd but so was her blatant glance at Coriolanus as she shared her thoughts no one asked for. You looked to the handsome teen who locked eyes with you.

The others continued their attack on the Plinths' entire existence, but you were too focused on the blue orbs that seemed to have stiffened. No words were spoken, but the message was clear.

Let them speak their minds.

It will only hurt to refuse. Hurt you and Coriolanus.

Sejanus has lived long enough with the whispers about him; he can deal with it.

But the wrong whisper about Coriolanus? It will ruin everything he was worked a decade for. And you wouldn't even risk the slightest crack.

"Did you see his mother’s outfit? Sorry, his 'Ma’s.'"

You had more than enough insults about the teasing boy's own appearance, but your tongue had to be bitten.

"Dress a turnip in a ball gown, and it’ll still beg to be mashed."

You had to gulp down your emotion and nausea as Coriolanus joined in the fray.

"Don’t do that. We all know that you like him."

Arachne countered him. You were grateful for it, even though you knew it did not come from a place of compassion.

"I don’t like him, Arachne. I tolerate him. He’s district."

But the sneering girl wasn't looking at him when he responded. Her interest lay on you and your mediocre attempt to hide your opposition.

Who would have thought the mighty Vaun heiress would have a weakness in the form of charming, young Snow?

It didn't surprise the teetering Casca Highbottom, who watched the two with a keen interest from the back of the room. He continued to watcg as the very boy Festus Creed discredited appeared by the snubbing boy's side.

"Sejanus, you made it to the Reaping for once."

Sejanus stood on your other side as he turned his wit towards the curly red-headed boy.

"And you made it to graduation, Festus. We’re both shocked."

You were glad Coriolanus joined in your laugh at his jab. If there was one thing to say about interactions where Sejanus has to interact with the snobbing clique, it was entertaining.

But Arachne was not in the mood for a show.

"Spill it. Who won the prize? Is Y/N the winner? Is that why of all the days to make her reappearance, it would be the day she gets her shiny prize?"

You do question why you are still friends with someone who is so quick to jump to conclusions sometimes.

But Sejanus was quick to step in and put his hand out in front of you as a sort of protective force.

"Oh, no, I’m not gonna ruin my father’s big day. No one here actually likes him, but they do love his money. You know what that’s like, don’t you, Arachne?"

Oh, yes, so so entertaining.

Well, to everyone but the brunt of the joke.

"Funny."

The sound of magnificent music filled the hall, signaling the attendees to take their seats. You moved to a near seat by Coriolanus as the one by Sejanus was already taken. Sejanus seemed to be explaining something to Coriolanus, but you couldn't hear what. But seeing the color drained from his face assured you that it was nothing good.

All questions were cut off by the booming and crawling voice of Dr. Volumnia Gaul. As she addressed the crowd in her odd manners, you began to wonder what role she is playing in the Academy today. Maybe even the Plinth Prize?

She introduced Casca Highbottom, the constantly intoxicated Dean of the prestigious academy. And the creator the very inventor of the event this "holiday" was created to commemorate along with the Capital victory.

He draws on about the Hunger Games and the students' eagerness for the Plinth Prize winner, but he would never inform of the victor.

No, to your horror and Coriolanus's frustration, there would be one final task to determine the winner.

"But by who is the best mentor in the Hunger Games."

Best said by the creator of the bloodbath. You were meant to create children of your same age or younger into spectacles to win the prize. They didn't have to survive for you to succeed.

The realization that this will only amplify the widespread thought among your peers that districts were subhuman, hit you at once. Second class citizens.

They are to parade around in their last moments, all in mercy of their puppeteers: kids their same age. It sickened you.

But if it sickened you so much why does that voice still keep telling you that at least they have a chance to win? More of a chance then they had given you all.

The continuation of your moral conflict was paused as you tuned back into the words of your stumbling Dean.

"Your entire future rests on this last project. Oh, and I must tell you that anyone caught cheating to give their tributes an unfair advantage… will just have no future at all."

His words seemed a bit targeted and enjoyed too much. Nevertheless, the ceremonial music initiating the Reaping Ceremony began.

As each name from the districts was announced, so was the accompanying mentor. Anxiety began surging through your veins as it finally hit you that you will be an integral part of this year's games.

Blood will be on your hands.

You didn't know what to think when the district one tributes you were announced and your name was absent.

Should you be upset that the likelihood of a successful tribute is going to dwindle the further down the list goes?

When it was district two's turn, you hoped that neither you nor Sejanus are named. You knew he was going to suffer most regardless, but having to mentor someone from his own district was its own special punishment. All hope was crushed, however, when Highbottom opened his mouth.

"How apt. Boy goes to Sejanus Plinth."

The crowd applauded, but the sound of blood in your ears drowned it out. You instantly peered around Coriolanus to look at Sejanus. But his gaze was glued to the floor in front of him. Due to your now-close proximity, you could hear the talk between the two boys.

"You got the pick of the litter."

"You forget. I’m part of that litter."

The grave tone in Sejanus's voice wasn't one of surprise. But rather one of understanding. Understanding why him and why the tribute he landed with.

The tributes and districts kept on coming and coming. But not a singular mention of either you or Coriolanus.

It had gotten to District Ten and yet nothing. You turned to look at him and found him already staring.

That mask was fixed perfectly for all else. But the mask could never mask his eyes.

His now dull blue eyes filled with fear. And Coriolanus Snow showing fear was enough to ensue new waves of emotion in you.

You had the same mask plastered on, but you couldn't stop yourself from fishing your necklace out. You grazed your fingers across the cold metals of all three to calm yourself as District Eleven was finished up.

Your hand dropped to your side and was quickly grabbed and given a squeeze of reassurance by Coryo. Maybe even a transfer of bravery.

You both knew what was to come now. Who was to come.

However, you were too quick to judge.

"Twelve! Boy, Y/N Vaun!"

Maybe you were imagining things or letting your mind play tricks on you, but Highbottom's voice sounded as if it was laced with a slight enjoyment.

However, your attention was turned to the boy appearing on the screen. Jessup Diggs. He was tall and broader than you would have imagined. His face was stone cold and lifeless. A mirror of yours. How odd.

The moment to analyze was over as soon as it started when Highbottom began again.

"Oh. You’ll be happy about this, Ms. Crane. The “runt girl” from District 12, she belongs to Coriolanus Snow. Lucy Gray Baird."

The whole room seemed to freeze as a girl in a beautifully designed colorful dress walked solemnly to the front. A boy seemed to try to talk to her, but her eyes stayed forward with her hand clasped behind her back.

"What is that dress? Is she some sort of clown?" Arachne mocks, but you found it fascinating.

"I think it's beautiful."

Your genuine and soft admission brought back Coriolanus Snow's senses. But they were reinvigorated when a red-haired girl began shrieking in the crowd. It made him stand up in fear and shock. The mayor's daughter, apparently.

Others in the hall seemed horrified and disgusted. Especially with Lucy Gray's musical performance and ending line.

According to Arachne, she was mentally ill. But to you, she was fascinating.

While everyone began getting up, you leaned over to a still-shocked Coriolanus. "Even when all the odds were against your favor, you still seemed to bag a winner."

You really believed she had a shot at winning. She already had attention and clear potential. You could tell Coriolanus was thinking the same thing, but his hope was not fully shared with your amount in the girl. Lucy Gray is clearly outgoing and has, at least, the ability to charm. She is going to need a lot more than that, but fortunately, she has a clever mentor.

You stated as much in an empty hallway that you shared with Coriolanus. He was racked with stress and purpose as he paced back and forth the space.

"You know he purposely gave me the weakest tribute. He is doing all he can to stop me from moving forward!"

He took a strong bite of the crackers that he sneakily grabbed from the table of food earlier. You leaned on a pillar as you let him rant.

"Let him do all he can! Fate seems to have different plans. And was it that you always say? 'Snow lands on top!' "

He stopped his pacing to land in front of you. He had a few crumbs on his shirt that you instinctively brushed off without thought.

His glance back and forth between your features and hand on his chest.

"And besides, the future president of Panem is gonna deal with a lot of petty men like him. You are just getting early practice."

Your optimism showed through your pretty smile. You peeked up at him, and the intensity of his eyes had you bite your lip in nervousness. Maybe you stepped over the line? Maybe you got too comfortable? Maybe—

All thoughts seemed to dissipate the instant Coryo leaned in.

You didn't know what to do and were doing your best not to freak out. It's not like you didn't want to because that would be the biggest lie of your life.

But you've never kissed anyone before. And what if he was just wrecked with nerves?! What if it meant nothing?

What if it meant nothing.

But as Coriolanus was a millimeter from your lips, the clearing throat paused any further action. You quickly turned your head as the blonde opened his eyes and followed your gaze.

Oh, had he wished he didn't.

There stood the cursed Dean. A look you couldn't decipher expressed on his face.

"President? Well, my oh my. Ambitious, just like your father."

You glanced to your right as Snow now stood next to you, with a guarded yet confused look.

"Oh yes. He and I were best friends. Once."

Highbottom's targeted gaze fixed on you. "And your dear mother. I was so saddened to hear of her untimely passing."

His tone, however, felt anything but. He turned his attention back to the heir of House Snow.

"Enlighten me, Mr. Snow. What are your plans after these Games?"

"And if you fail to win the Plinth Prize, what then?"

"I hope to go on to the University, sir. Naturally." Coryo answered as if it was the most preposterous question in the world.

"We’d pay the tuition, of course."

Casca Highbottom's sunken eyes seemed to shine as if he had caught fresh prey.

"Look at you. Your makeshift shirt and your too-tight shoes. Trying desperately to fit in when I know the Snows don’t have a pot to piss in."

Both you and Coriolanus had bewildered looks gracing your features on his knowledge. The boy's breathing deepened as he tried to calm himself, but you could see the small sheet of sweat building on his face and neck.

Highbottom was already satisfied with his effect on Crassus Snow's poor offspring. But what more could a little fun hurt?

He took calculated steps towards you, and Coriolanus took a noticeable step forward, as if a shield from the hollow man's words. The dark-haired man's eyes seared into the ever-attention-getting silver ring. His smile made your skin crawl.

"And here I thought you would be smarter than your mother. But of course, the Snows are known to be entitled."

And with that, he turned his back, making his grand exit. He didn't even turn to give a look as he addressed Coriolanus.

"Good luck with that poor little songbird."

Once assured he was truly gone, you and Coriolanus shared a look. A look of horror, anger, and determination. Determination to make Highbottom wish he ate his words.

He may have thought he put you both in the worst positions possible. But there is a thing about two people put in a corner.

They can create quite a stir.

And there sure was a storm brewing.

Your anchor and lifesaver being the retreating blonde with a straightened back and a purpose never more solidified.

⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆

A/N: AND ITS FINALLY OUT! pls don't send me into the arena🙏 I know I said it would be out DAYS ago (maybe even a week ago im sorry!) But I didn't like my original draft as it seemed just too rushed. I don't wish to post bad writing just to be timely. I hope you guys enjoyed the newest chapter and please let me know what you guys think and if you enjoy the longer chapters! Pls lmk guys I have been awake nearly 24 hours. Much love❤️

@notyourwildestdream 🌹@darktrashsoulbear🌹@fantasylovestoryme 🌹@nekee-lilac02 🌹@a-avengerparker 🌹 @queenofshinigamis 🌹@darlingisntit 🌹@mindymeeksmartinsgf 🌹@dilucpegg3r 🌹

[chaninfused]

And Hope to Die | Han Jisung

◤“Her voice was softer and smoother than he anticipated, but why did he even expect her to sound like a fragment of his darkest nightmares in the first place?” In which a man who wants nothing to do with the mafia is chosen by its most infamous members. ◤Disclaimers: Female reader insert. Chapter four from the ‘dead men don’t speak’ series. Angst. Descriptions of violence, blood, injury, and death. Usage of profanities. ◤Word count: 3.5K ◤Note: This idea is mine and any case of similarity with someone else’s is purely coincidental. Events are pure fiction. Please do not take my content without my consent. Masterlist.

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

"Congratulations on your promotion!"

Those four words were the worst Jisung had ever heard in his life, but his colleagues seemed to think otherwise. They pounced on him, each with a proud slap to his back or a playful punch to his shoulder.

He stood between them like a twig helpless to the tides of the sea, jostled about without regard.

He didn't want a promotion.

He wanted out of this mess.

As he was pondering over all the ways the universe seemed to personally despise him, the door to the meeting room opened, and two strangers stepped in.

His colleagues immediately fell into a hush and bowed their heads in greeting, their small huddle around him dissipating. "Good afternoon, commanders!"

Not strangers, he realized with a chill as he mimicked the rest. He simply hadn't the opportunity to interact with them up close to recognize them. But he had heard of them. Who in the Shadow Front hadn't?

Seo Changbin, the one who wore an eye patch. Y/n, the one who wore a burgundy coat. Two commanders of the Chaos Crescent infamous for being downright insane.

Jisung wanted to jump out the nearest window.

"Han Jisung. That's you, right?"

He tensed up for a second. Her voice was softer and smoother than he anticipated, but why did he even expect her to sound like a fragment of his darkest nightmares in the first place?

"Yes," he squared his shoulders when he answered, daring to hold her—disconcertingly—sparkly gaze.

Why him?

Jisung had nothing to offer besides an uninspired soul, yet there she was, extending her hand out to him. “We’re excited to have you on board Action Unit 19, Han.”

That was his chance. He had better decline this ridiculous promotion and hope that if he weren’t to be released from this farce of a life, he’d at least remain in the bottom ranks where no eye nor mind regarded him.

But she was still looking at him intently, absorbing every millisecond of his hesitation with those knowing eyes. Behind her, the commander of Action Unit 17 regarded him with as much interest as one would grant a fly on the wall.

It appeared that his so-called chance was a farce, too.

Sure that fate was laughing its twisted ass off at him, Jisung clasped the hand of his new boss.

“Thank you, commander.”

•⭓•

Action Unit 19 was always busy solely by virtue of being yours, for you never sat still and never lingered in one place for too long. This new lifestyle was the very opposite of each of Jisung’s unheard hopes.

It was his third week, and he was standing amidst the havoc being wreaked by his comrades, idle. If any will was left in his empty soul, it was definitely not spared to raise the gun in his loose grasp or engage himself in the raid they’d been tasked with. It was a miracle he’d even survived this long, having been doing the exact same thing on every mission so far—absolutely nothing.

If anyone in his unit noticed, he was sure they’d kill him for it, or at least pummel him to the ground because that was the kind of unit he’d been promoted to.

One that would answer, ‘how high?’ if their commander told them to jump.

It moved Jisung’s soul not one bit.

In his impassive state, he felt a weight crash into him, nearly toppling him to the ground had he not quickly caught his footing.

The man who had collided with him was now clutching his issued suit. A bruised cheekbone and a busted lip, yet he snarled at him, spitting blood, “Go to hell.”

Frankly, Jisung couldn’t be bothered to fight him off, so he only stared back at him.

An enemy. Maybe he could finally release him from his hell.

The man fished out a knife, and it glinted with the tantalizing light of freedom, before it was snuffed out by two dreadful gunshots.

A bullet to his arm and another to his neck, and he convulsed, choking, letting go, dying. Exposing Jisung’s actions, or lack thereof, to his comrades.

The floor they’d been fighting in quietened, the silence only disrupted by the bold clacking of dress shoes and your demanding question behind him.

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t turn around to face you, gaze still fixed at the dying man now crumpled at his feet. There went the chance he’d been waiting for.

Jisung doubted that you wanted his answer to that question because he was doing nothing, and that was the exact problem. His listlessness placed the rest of his unit in danger, and any resulting casualties would be your burden to carry in front of the higherups.

But he didn’t really care.

He knew better, in the depths of his mind, than to anger his boss. Still, he held on to the inkling of hope that maybe this way, you’d realize your mistake of hiring him and demote him back to the solitary humdrum of the lower ranks.

Anything to destroy this ever-growing snowball of mistakes.

You scoffed, and it sent a terrible chill down his spine. “I guess you don’t care if you died then.”

His body snapped in your direction, fast enough to see you point your gun straight at his head. Strangely, and against all reason, his heart lurched with the most sickening feeling. Wait—

Three gunshots deafened him as they echoed. Before he could speak. Before he could blink. Before he could breathe.

You were known to be wasteful with your bullets, but your aim was never sloppy, and instead of searing pain, Jisung heard a shriek from behind him.

Oh. Figures you wouldn’t actually shoot him.

He was frozen in place when you strode past him, your face a blank slate that somehow made the threat leaving your lips worse, “Get your act straight or you’ll wish those bullets went through your skull instead.”

•⭓•

Jisung thought that few things were more suffocating than his waking hours, one of which was being awake and in a party.

He managed to slip out of the loud hall with unsurprising ease. He was only a rookie in Action Unit 19, after all. No one would ask for his particular company during the half-year party where the entirety of the Shadow Front, bosses and underlings alike, gathered to drink and sweettalk their ways into higher positions.

Eager to be as far away from their pretenses, Jisung eventually found himself opening the door to the rooftop and stepping out to a stunning sunset. Even from this height, the view of the sky was the same as that seen by the passengers of the cars zooming below. Innocents who’d committed no mistakes as grave as his, and still got to enjoy something so mundane.

He leaned into the ceramic railing and nearly jumped out of his skin when a hum sounded behind him.

“The sky is green.”

He spun around so quickly he should’ve lost his balance, but Jisung only sputtered out, “Ma’am—!”

It turned out there were others beside himself who sought a breath of fresh air.

You were lying on the bare concrete, one outstretched leg over the other with your signature coat bundled up to cushion your head. How he hadn’t noticed you from the start was a wonder he could only attribute to the clouding of his mind, wanting nothing more than to escape the party.

As if his situation wasn’t sufficiently awkward on its own, there was the added fact that Jisung had been lying low ever since you rebuked him during the raid. Now, he was alone on the deserted rooftop with you and no smooth way to make an exit.

Damn it.

“Han Jisung.”

Maybe he should’ve stayed at that wretched party.

“I know you don’t want to be here.”

He stiffened at your words, carried by the soft breeze to his cold ears.

“I’ve known it for a while. Ever since your recruitment.”

So what? It wasn’t like he tired too hard to hide it. His life had been tainted by this organization, and he didn’t remember how or when it all began. Only that he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“But here’s the thing,” you sighed, and he heard the whisper of fabric as you sat up. “There’s nowhere but here for you and me.”

You were right. Of course you would be. Hands so thoroughly steeped with blood like his could have no other occupation.  

“So quit this rebellion of yours. It’s only going to kill you in the end and you know they don’t hold nice funerals for people like us.”

Jisung didn’t need to have this heart-to-heart with a criminal. He knew there was no getting out of this alive, let alone unscathed. Still, he had to try. He had to do something, anything, otherwise that bastard—

“Why are you even doing all this?”

Your question—perhaps prompted by his silence, or perhaps ignited by your curiosity—forced him to finally look at you and absorb the way the golden sunset bathed your skin. A divine halo for the most wicked of devils.

You were all too relaxed, head tilted back to regard him almost lazily, and somehow, for whatever reason, his heart skipped a beat. Or dropped to the pits of hell. It was a feeling that unsettled him either way, and Jisung found himself at a loss for words.

“I…”

Or maybe his words were so abundant that he didn’t know where to start, or whether it was even appropriate for him to say what was on his mind. You seemed to notice too, for you let out a humored huff, “Well, whatever it is, I can tell you don’t actually want to get yourself killed.”

“Of course not,” he stated a bit too roughly, fists curling into themselves as he gritted out his frustration, “I’m just—”

He was helpless. There was nothing he could do to resolve his situation without hurting his sister, and he couldn’t bear for his days to go on without change either.

“I see,” you murmured when he lapsed into silence again. He didn’t know what exactly you ‘saw’, but he supposed reading others came with your job description.

You rose to your feet and dusted off your burgundy coat as though your business was concluded. Without so much as another glance his way, you turned for the rooftop’s door, imparting onto him a few last words that had clearly, very easily, seen entirely through him.

“What you are is angry, Han Jisung. Make use of it.”

There was that twisted feeling in his chest again.

Jump.

•⭓•

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing in this house?!”

The beer can, intended for Jisung’s head, clanged against the paving that led to the house. The assault did not deter Jisung, and he shouted back, “You used it all for your fucking drugs didn’t you? I gave that money to Mina!”

The assailant heaved with drunken anger. Once upon a time, Jisung knew him as his stepfather, but this man was no more than a stranger, now. He had lost himself to alcohol and narcotics after his wife’s abandonment and grew to resent her son as though it were his sworn duty.

His hatred was something that Jisung didn’t care for too much. He was an adult and had no reason to associate himself with this deteriorating household anymore. A luxury, yet he kept returning to this family because of her.

“That money wasn’t yours,” Jisung snarled, “Give it back.”

“You son of a bitch—!” the man's face reddened, as though he were choking on his own words. “I told you not to come here again! We don’t need your filthy money—”

“Right,” Jisung had to let out a bitter laugh. “That’s why you had to take the money I gave to my sister—”

“She’s not your sister!”

The shout should’ve rattled him, but Jisung stood his ground as his stepfather descended, fuming, hands outstretched as if to catch him by the collar and strangle him. He spat like a sputtering kettle, “I don’t want to hear her name coming from your mouth ever again—”

“Damn, you’re really insecure, huh?”

That voice did not belong in their family’s front yard, and it brought immediate quiet upon them. Jisung’s head snapped up, his heart sinking.

What the hell are you—

“Who the fuck are you?” his stepfather demanded, faltering in his angry steps as he glared at the intruder wandering into their property. Jisung could only watch, helpless, because he couldn’t simply exclaim at his boss’ face to leave.

“My name is Y/n,” you provided, a pleasant, yet utterly bland smile on your face as you walked up to the swaying drunkard. A black business card seemingly materialized between your fingers and you held it out to him, introducing yourself further, “I’m a general manager at House of Cosmos. Nice to meet you.”

“What the— How did you get in here? This is private property!” he hissed, completely ignoring your outstretched hand, and Jisung saw the masked disdain in your gaze grow. Disinterested, you dropped your business card on the ground and pointed behind you, shrugging, “Door’s wide open.”

And it was. The gate to their property was unlocked and yawning on its old hinges. Still, that didn’t explain your presence.

“Anyway, I’m here for my colleague,” you remarked, casually slinging an arm around Jisung’s shoulders and lying through your teeth with such terrifying ease. “You see, I offered to drive him to the company barbeque so I came by, but then—"

“I don’t care. Get out, both of you,” his stepfather interjected forcefully and you ceased your story making, letting go of Jisung’s stunned form with a scrunch of your nose and a mutter, “Huh...”

The man seemed to lean to his left a bit too steeply, a bit too slowly, slurring and struggling with this words, “A-And if I see your… face around here again—I s-swear I’ll—Argh—!”

The thud of his body against the yellowing grass was quiet.

A beat passed, then—

“I guess all that alcohol caught up to him, huh?” you murmured and Jisung stared, eyes like glass, at the limp body of the man he loathed more than anybody else. The cause and very source of all his misery and turmoil, motionless for once in his worthless life.

What the hell just happened—?  

“Hello?” your voice was muffled through the fog in his mind as you called emergency services. “A man collapsed in front of us—I think from a stroke… Yeah… Middle-aged, I believe. Okay. We’re at 11B street, Villa 1053C…”

No. No. No!

Jisung’s breaths were coming too short, his vision too dark.

He’s dead? How can he be dead? I didn’t even touch him—

“Okay. We’ll do that. Thank you.”

You ended the call and he spun to face you, grabbing your arms in manic desperation as he gasped, “They’re going to arrest us now— They’ll think I did it—!”  

You seemed all too slow to react to his outburst, wriggling out of his grasp with a dispassionate sigh, “Relax. You’ve got witnesses.”

“Witnesses?” he stepped back. “Who exactly?”

You furrowed your brows at him as if confused by his panic, then pointed at yourself, “Me.”

At the corner of the house, “the camera.”

Then somewhere above the two of you, “and her.”

Jisung’s gaze followed your finger to the window on the second floor and met the wide eyes of his sister gaping down at the scene. He realized, with a pang, that she had seen it all transpire despite every effort he’d made to keep her away from their fights all these years.

“Anyway, you know some first aid right?” you crouched next to his stepfather’s body, beckoning with your hand, “Come help me—”

“What are you really doing here?”

Jisung’s question made you stop and frown at him again, answering like it were the most obvious thing, “I’m here for you. Did I not say that?”

You did say that, but it made no sense and he was pretty sure it was a lie made to trick his stepfather.  

“You weren’t picking up and I was nearby,” you told him simply. “Now, If you’re done with your questions, come help.”

“I…see.”

Again, that feeling nagged at him.

Jump.

•⭓•

Two men in smart black suits halted in their steps when Jisung passed by, making way as they greeted him, “Good morning, VP.”

“G’morning,” he raised his free hand in a half-wave when he returned the greeting. In Jisung’s other hand was a hefty weight he’d been dragging across the floor. It left a faint red trail behind him, but he didn’t care much. Their janitor wasn’t going to be cleaning anything anytime soon, anyway.

He smiled at the two guards and dropped the body at their feet. “Take care of this for me, will you?”  

“Yes, sir.”

Feeling much lighter, Jisung resumed his way to his original destination. He was supposed to be there seven minutes ago, but there had been a minor distraction on his little trip. His tardiness wouldn’t be an issue, though, but the smudged blood on his gloves was, most definitely, unacceptable.

With a sigh, he pulled off his gloves and shoved them into the inner pockets of his blazer. It was a shame, truly. He really tried to make as little a mess as possible this time.

Jisung reached his destination and knocked on the polished door, pushing it open before getting his answer.

“You’re late,” you stated immediately upon his stepping into your office.

“Sorry,” he said as he shut the door behind him. “Caught a rat in the janitor’s closet.”

“Another one, huh?” you chuckled like it were a joke and not an attempt at your life, once again. Jisung clenched his jaw to bite back his frustrations.

You were lying haphazardly on one of the couches in your vast office. Feet propped up against the backrest and your head nearly dangling off the edge. Jisung didn’t know which was worse—your shoes against the leather or the fact that you were supposed to be recovering in bed today.

Farther towards the tall windows, someone else stood gazing out at the city with disinterest. Not once did he turn back to acknowledge Jisung’s entry, likely too unbothered to expend the effort, but that was to be expected of the Right Claw. Second only to the Boss, Seo Changbin wouldn’t even take more breaths than he was absolutely required to.

Jisung shut away the disappointment that flooded his chest at seeing him.

“You asked for me?” he questioned once he stood near the couch and you looked up at him from where you lay, grinning. Only then did he notice the pristine envelope in your grasp.

“Come take a look. It’s an invitation from the prince of the underworld.”

Jisung received the envelope from you and took out its one page contents. The letter was short, simple, and made his blood boil instantly.

Your voice sounded from behind the paper. “What do you think?”

“I think he’s either stupid or stupidly full of himself to order you around,” he said, and he was cooler and calmer than he’d imagined himself to be because in all honesty, Jisung wanted to tear the paper to shreds then set it all ablaze.

And after what those bastards did…

He folded the letter and slipped it back into its envelope. The so-called prince of the underworld was an audacious man, but this was an opportunity and Jisung was going to catch it by the tail. “I’ll go.”

“No,” you didn’t miss a beat. “We’ll go together.”

“Why? I can give him a piece of my mind just fine.”

You were silent to his protest, but the sudden darkness that shadowed your gaze screamed louder than any voice could. And Jisung heard it.

His emotions ran impossibly hotter, his whisper so chillingly low.

“So… Jeongin found something.”

“Yes,” you smiled and it made him crumble inside.

That wasn’t satisfaction or excitement. It was pain and old suffering that quirked your lips, and it had been that way for a while now.

He hated it.

He despised it so much that it sickened him to his very core.

So, Jisung allowed your desire for revenge to consume him whole. This mantle wasn’t his own, yet he carried its heavy weight on his shoulders because he was willing to do anything. A world that dimmed the spark in your eyes was a world that ought to be damned.

And so, he let that angry flame burn.

Your orders were soft, not at all demanding, “That’s why we’ll both go entertain the little prince.”

Jump.

Jisung smiled. “As you wish.”

How high?

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

Thank you for reading this far! I'm so sorry this one got delayed a bunch, but I hope it was an enjoyable read anyway. A reblog and any feedback would be greatly appreciated. I hope you have a spectacular day, and I'll see you next week (hopefully) with the fifth chapter! ♡

[karuvapatta]

Next part of the Untitled Jonelias Magic AU. Thank you @ceaseless-bitcher for your feedback, worldbuilding ideas, and line suggestions!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

***

“Do you have an appointment?” the secretary – Rose? Rosie? – asked politely, opening her calendar.

“I do not,” Jon said.

“I see,” she said. “Well, forgive me, Mr Sims, but Master Bouchard is currently in a meeting. If you have a message for him, I would be happy to pass it along.”

“Look,” Jon began, then shut his mouth immediately thereafter. The secretary – Rosie; he was pretty sure her name was Rosie – regarded him with a bland, polite smile, her hands folded neatly on the desk. Behind her were the doors to Master Bouchard’s office, presently out of Jon’s reach.

“Is there anything I can do for you, then?” she asked.

He should have written a letter. He should have refrained from coming here in the first place.

“Is it possible to arrange a meeting?” he asked. “I—I really need to speak with Master Bouchard.”

He didn’t want to accost the man after one of his lectures, or seek entry to the research floor without invitation. That seemed to be a step too far. But maybe he would have no other choice, if Rosie continued being this difficult.

“I will have to confirm it with him. I will let you know once I have any details,” Rosie said.

“Thank you,” Jon said curtly. He wrote down his contact information, and could not help one last heated glare in the direction of Bouchard’s locked office door.

It was foolish. It wasn’t important. The sense of urgency gnawing at his stomach was entirely unwarranted. He needed to put that feeling to rest and move on. If Bouchard refused to see him, he would do just that. He would stop showing up to his lectures, stop reading his papers, stop hovering near the research department…

Half-heartedly, he wished that this would be the end of it. And yet the reply arrived two days later, with the meeting set for next week. Jon didn’t know how to feel about that. He spent altogether too much time trying to come up with something intelligent to say, some compelling argument as to why he wanted to see Bouchard in the first place. Yet when the time came, his mind was blank and his throat was dry.

“Mr Sims,” Bouchard greeted him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jon swallowed. The office was just as he had remembered it, with Bouchard silhouetted against the large window behind him. Jon felt uncomfortably exposed where he stood; he could not see the man’s face clearly, with the afternoon light nearly blinding him.

“Take a seat, please,” Bouchard said, pointing to the familiar chair in front of his desk.

Jon moved slowly. He placed his hand on the back of the chair, fingers twitching against dark wood and embroidered fabric. Bouchard’s pale eyes were on him; he could feel them as acutely as he felt the sunlight on his skin. He had questions, so many questions echoing in his head, and yet he struggled to voice any of them.

Bouchard was a patient man. He sat back, fingers steepled together, and said nothing at all as Jon hovered awkwardly in front of him, at war with his own thoughts.

“Have you chosen an apprentice yet, Master?” Jon asked.

He hadn’t meant for these to be the first words out of his mouth, but now he couldn’t take them back.

“Oh my,” Bouchard chuckled. “Gossip really spreads like wildfire, doesn’t it?”

This wasn’t an answer. Jon frowned at him.

“Why do you want to know?” Bouchard asked.

Still the same frustrating non-answer. Jon’s frown deepened; his fingers clenched tight around the back of the chair. The bracelet shifted against his skin, responding to the movement, or perhaps the sudden flash of anger.

“Does it matter?” he asked. “You will not tell me anyway.”

Bouchard’s mouth twitched into a smile. This—he found it amusing. Jon was a source of entertainment for him, for whatever reason. The reasonable thing to do would be to turn back and leave; Jon, of course, stayed right where he stood.

“What is it that you want from me?” Jon asked.

“Why do you assume I want anything from you?” Bouchard asked calmly.

“You—” Jon bit his lip. This was wrong, this was all wrong. He was making an ass of himself. But—well. “Why did you reject my application?” he asked. This was a reasonable question, was it not? “Is it because of the—” he pressed his fingers to his wrist and the bracelet bound tight around it, feeling it thrum gently, matching the rhythm of his pulse. “I didn’t think it mattered,” he added quietly.

“It does matter,” Bouchard said. “To you, most of all. Why pretend otherwise?”

It was driving him insane, the way Bouchard insisted on answering Jon’s questions with even more questions. What would it take to get a normal reply out of the man? Why was he toying with Jon?

“I have been practicing,” Jon said. “You know I have. I—I want to learn.” He dropped his gaze, throat seizing with embarrassment. But he needed to say the words out loud, he needed to have them out in the open. “Master, I know I’m capable of this with your guidance. I want to be your apprentice. Please.”

He braced himself for whatever might come next. Maybe he ought to apologize for his outlandish request, offer an explanation, play it off as a joke… except he couldn’t bring himself to lie right now. Bouchard would probably know if he did. So he glanced up, chancing a look at Bouchard’s face, to better judge his reaction.

Their eyes met; Bouchard smiled.

“To answer your earlier question, Mr Sims,” he began. “Yes, I already made my choice. But I had to wait for you to make yours.”

Oh.

Jon still didn’t know why. But now he had the chance to find out.

[memphisnovels]

Evermore

Chapter 21. Daylight

Previous chapter

Masterlist

We were really working through some things in this chapter :)

A little spicy, nothing crazy though.

<33

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, Pietro and Nadia being Pietro and Nadia, some spice (literally it doesn't even constitute a chili pepper), flirty flirty behavior, some angst, and arguing.

I stretched my neck from side to side, rolling my shoulders to loosen my muscles as I waited for Pietro to arrive for training. My mind seemed set on reliving the memory of his hands on me over and over again in a never-ending loop that proved extremely distracting. I’d been attempting to push the thoughts out of my mind, to focus on other things, yet it was becoming clear to me that when it came to these pesky feelings, I was having there was no ignoring them – they refused to not be felt by me.

My lips upturned when I felt the air shift behind me, shortly after an arm swung out in an attempt to place me in a hold. It never failed to amuse me when people thought they could beat me with the element of surprise. I grabbed Pietro’s arm and ducked beneath in, using my body to flip him onto the ground on his back. He sighed dramatically, throwing his head back in exasperation. “That was uncalled for.”

I raised an eyebrow at him as he moved back to his feet, running a hand through his hair. “You’re really shit at sneaking up on people.”

He rolled his eyes. “Why must you bully me so relentlessly?”

“Are you really surprised?” My hands fell to my hips as I regarded him. “I’m not going to start going easy on you now.”

His lips curved into that cheeky grin that had become a familiar sight on him. “Oh, I wouldn’t want you to, Prinţesă.” I bit back a smile, rolling my eyes at his tone and the way his eyes traveled along my body.

“Okay, I want to see some of what you’ve learned. Think of it like a pop quiz. We’ll start with how you get out of holds.”

I was pleased with his progress though not particularly surprised; I’d been seeing his continual improvement for months now. It made me think back to that first month of us training together, he was always strong, but he lacked skill and strategy. Now, he got out of nearly all of my holds with some amount of ease, he still couldn’t beat me, but he was good. I smiled when he broke free of me before I managed to get him into the guillotine choke. When we were sparring, I saw the thought behind his movements, the skill that had become an indelible part of his fighting style. I threw a punch, and he caught my fist, twisting it and moving swiftly to evade me, a second after he stepped behind me, I felt a small sting against my ass, followed by a smart-ass little snicker. I froze in place, disbelief overtaking me as I glanced over my shoulder to see his shoulders shaking with laughter as he walked away. Without hesitation I followed, kicking him quickly in the back of the knee, not enough to hurt him but firm enough to have his knee buckle. I grabbed his shoulder about to put him in a chokehold out of retaliation. In my haste I left my guard open, allowing his to grab my wrist and swiftly sweep my feet from beneath me. I scowled at him as he pinned me to the mat beneath him. “Too slow.” He taunted, smirking growing. I gritted my teeth, attempting to summon my anger, yet meeting Pietro’s striking gaze seemed to extinguish it almost completely. The rage I knew well turned into ash and embers that dissipated in my hands. Irrespective of this I narrowed my eyes at him, feigning ire. His amused look transformed into a soft smile as he watched me. “Don’t be mad. It’s just because you’re such a good teacher.” His eyes fell to my lips. My heart was racing, and I was fighting hard to stop the smile from taking over my lips.

I bucked my hips up to throw him off-balance before moving my leg to overlap one of his and flip us. “Who’s too slow now?” I spoke moving from between his legs to pin him properly, hand beside his head holding me parallel to him.

He shook his head, snorting at me. “Sore loser.” His hand moved to sit on my hip causing my heart rate to pick up once more. His other hand tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, caressing my cheek slightly. I leaned down to brush my lips over his, gently before kissing properly. I could no longer fight the smile that tugged my lips upward, so I gave in; a little. His own smile grew, and his eyes traced over my face as if he were following an invisible pattern across my flesh. He was quiet for a long while then.

I kissed him again so that he’d stop looking at me like that. His hand squeezed my hip a little, the other smoothing over my hair to bring my lips against his more firmly. I felt his fingers pressing into the tights that covered my thigh before he flipped up over once again, rolling on top of me. This needed to end, anyone could walk into the training room, I knew that, yet the thought of stopping was still entirely unappealing. “Pietro,” I murmured against his lips, but the kissing never ceased. “We should go eat dinner.” He ignored me entirely, beginning to press a line of kisses down my throat. My lips parted, eyes fluttering slightly.  I grabbed ahold of his hair, prying him away from me. His mouth was parted, a little smirk forming.

“If you want me to stop, this isn’t the way to do it.” His hand snaked up my arm, slipping my hand from his hair and turning his head to press a gentle kiss to my pulse point. “But I am pretty hungry so…” His eyes raked over my form, causing a shiver to run down my spine. I pulled my legs back pushing his chest with my foot, causing him to fall backward. His cheeky laugh filled my ears as I moved to my feet once more.

The kitchen was empty when we entered, a rare occurrence at the compound, but not unpleasant. There was a hush that fell over the room as we sat and ate together. Out the window I could see a gray cast over the sky, wind causing the trees and bushes to sway rather violently. I twirled some pasta around my fork, glancing over at Pietro to find him already looking at me. With a raised eyebrow, I leaned back in my seat. “Is there something I can help you with?” He only grinned at me, continuing to clear his plate. A chill set into my flesh as I sat there, now regretting forgoing a jumper this morning. My body always seemed to forget how cold December was in New York. Not quite as cold as Russia, but these days my body was less adapted to the bone-chilling cold that was winter in Moscow. I rubbed a hand up and down my bare arms to combat the cool air. The sound of a fork clattering was followed by a blur of blue and silver and before I could even comprehend what had happened, Pietro was holding his jumper out to me. At first, I remained still, unsure how to react. He moved his hand slightly more toward me in a gesture of his offering. Slowly, hesitantly, I accepted the soft item, still warm from being on his body. “Aren’t you going to be cold?”

He shrugged. “Nah, I run pretty hot. You know – enhanced metabolism and all that.” I glanced down at the jumper in my hands, body stiff. “It’s not laced with poison or something, Nadia.” He teased. I rolled my eyes at him, finally slipping the jumper over my head and pulling it down. It pooled a little on me, but I didn’t mind, in fact, I rather liked it. The smell of him enveloped me, and it frightened me how at ease that made my body become.

“Thank you,” I murmured quietly, averting my eyes.

“You’re welcome. Besides, it looks better on you anyway.” A smile tugged at my lips. “Hey, since we are boyfriend and girlfriend now, do you think we should start using new pet names.” The smile faltered and I narrowed my eyes at him. “How do you feel about… babe?” The glint in his eyes told me everything I needed to know, that and the beginnings of that little shit-eating smirk forming on his lips.

“How do you feel about losing a limb?”

The smirk was no longer a mere whisper but now a prominent fixture of his expression. “You seem to be harboring a lot of rage.” He leaned a little closer to me, hand brushing my knee. “I could probably help with that.”

“Hello you two.” Cap greeted as he entered the room, staring down at a stack of envelopes. I watched Pietro with a narrowed gaze as he greeted Steve cheerily. “This came for you this morning, Nads.” He handed me an A4 envelope, before setting the rest of the mail down on the counter. “Can I talk to you in the conference room quickly, Pietro?”

When the two men were gone, I tore the seal off of the envelope, emptying its contents into my hands. A thick manila folder slid out. Along with a handwritten note.

I’ve never been good at letting go of a thread – Fury.

I flipped the folder open, its contents made me shoot up from my seat abruptly, slamming the file closed. Stowing it away under my arm, I swiftly made my way to my room, shutting the door and leaning against it. I closed my eyes for a long moment before flipping the file open once more, the first item in the folder was familiar, a S.H.I.E.L.D. dossier with my information on it, every agent has one. It described physical appearance, personal information, mission qualifications, and some other important intel. I’d seen it before; half the sections were covered with red ‘CLASSIFIED’ text. It was what followed my agent profile that had me slamming the folder closed once more. Another dossier, one I had never seen before. I didn’t even bother looking over the other documents that were in the file. I tossed it onto my bed and began to pace the length of my room. Why couldn’t Fury just let this go? I’d already told him I didn’t want him digging around in my past. I didn’t need to know; didn’t want to know. A knock on my door had me freezing in my spot. Natasha was away on assignment, so I knew it wasn’t her.

“Who is it?” I called.

“Ultron, I’ve come back for revenge,” Pietro called from the other side of the door.

I snatched the file from my bed, scanning my room for somewhere inconspicuous to hide it. “I was just joking it’s not actually Ultron, it’s just me… can I come in?” I jammed the folder into a space on my bookshelf. “What are you doing in there, Nadia?”

“You’re not funny,” I said when I yanked the door open to reveal him leaning on my doorframe with raised eyebrows.

“You love my jokes.” He pouted. “What took you so long to answer?”

“I was naked.” I taunted, moving aside to let him into the room.

He gasped, glancing over his shoulder at me in disbelief. “Well, you should have just said so, dragă, I could have helped you dress.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “I’m sure you could have.”

“What can I say, I’m very helpful.”

“And just as irritating.”

He grinned at me. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“Guess!”

An exasperated sigh fell from me as I dropped onto my bed. “You’re joining forces with a robot man to destroy the Avengers?”

He glared at me, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re a very cruel woman.”

I smiled wryly, tilting my head slightly to the side. “Are you going to tell me or what?”

“Steve is sending me on assignment by myself.” My eyebrows shot up. “Well, technically Sam is coming too, but I’m the one leading, he’s just backup.” Pietro was practically vibrating with excitement, barely managing to contain his beaming smile. I processed his words, nerves ticking within me. He’d never been the lead on assignment before and I’d never not been with him. It was entirely bizarre to me to have these feelings towards someone, to be so indescribably concerned with the welfare of one person. Though, as Pietro stood before, struggling to fight back his glee, I decided to unpack my feelings later, but in the meantime, I refused to sour his moment.

A smile spread across my lips. “Wow, they grow up so fast.” I teased, standing up. He rolled his eyes and before I could blink my feet were off the ground and Pietro was engulfing me in his arms. I wrapped my arms around his neck instinctively in order to not fall. He sped around the room, jumping and spinning. His speed had things flying around all over the place. The chaos of his intense excitement caused laughter to bubble within me. “Pietro!” My stomach hurt from laughing by the time he’d stopped. He dropped down on top of my bed with me beneath him. I laughed again as he let his full weight fall on me. “You’re crushing me.” I groaned out.

He lifted himself up on his arms that sat on either side of my head. “I cannot believe that Cap trusts me enough to do this!”

“Of course, he does, you’ve done nothing but prove yourself the entire time you’ve been here.”

His eyes softened, his smile turning gentle as he gazed down at me. “You know, I owe so much of this to you.”

My face contorted with confusion, and I asked him what he was talking about.

“You’re the one who trained me… you made me a real Avenger.”

His words pierced me so deeply that I felt as though I’d lost the ability to speak for a long moment. “I only taught you to fight, Pietro. You did the rest.” I smiled at him. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I don’t think that’s true but agree to disagree I suppose.” He pressed a soft kiss to my lips, moving to hold himself up on his elbows, face hovering just above mine. “Is this, okay?” He gestured toward our bodies. I nodded slowly. His lips met mine again and my hand slipped into his hair. I couldn’t get enough of the way his mouth felt against mine, of the way his lips tasted.

He brought my other arm up to wrap around him as well before dragging his hand down to my thigh and propping it over his hip. The feeling of his warm fingers dancing on the sliver of skin where my shirt and his jumper had ridden up had me shuddering. For almost the first time in my life I leaned into the sensation of a hand making contact with my bare skin. I felt feverish, my entire body burning up and the only thing that could save me was Pietro. I pulled him flush against me. He groaned softly into my mouth pushing the hair from my face and kissing down my jaw, the way he had in the training room, but this time I didn’t stop him. My fingers tugged on his hair, and I tilted my head back, giving him more room to move. His grip on me tightened slightly he halted, forehead pressing into my shoulder as his body lifted slightly so that it was no longer flush with mine. “What’s wrong?” I asked, breathlessly.

“Maybe we should stop...”

My face flushed and I let my hands fall from him. “Pietro… what’s wrong?” I saw his Adam’s apple bob, but he didn’t lift his head. “We don’t have to do this if that’s not what you want, we can just watch a movie or something…”

Finally, his blue eyes met mine. “Nadia.” He paused, scrubbing a hand down his face before shaking his head. “I do want this… Jesus, you have no idea how badly, I want this.” The pink flush across my face and chest was likely still prominent as he watched me. “But I promised you that we’d take this slow, and if we keep going, I don’t think that’s how this is going to go.” My hand fell over his cheek, the touch so light it was barely there. I moved it to his chest. It was far easier to think straight when there was a fabric barrier between us. That is what I had said, I wanted… needed to take things slow… but God if his words didn’t make me want his so much more.

I felt him beginning to retreat from me, attempting to put some distance between us. However, it wasn’t entirely clear whose benefit that was for. Whose self-control he was trying not to test any further.  I clutched his shirt in my hand, stopping him from going any further. When he was still and the air that I breathed wasn’t solely his I could no longer blame it on the proximity, and it became hard to deny what I was feeling; so, I stopped trying to. This time, I sought him out, sitting up so that we were face to face once more. “I don’t want slow, Pietro.” I slid my hand back up to sit at the side of his neck, just below his ear. “I just want you.”

He softened as I pulled him back down to kiss me, falling on top of me once again. Though, once again, it was short-lived. His lips were practically grazing mine as he spoke. “I want you too, Nadia. God, do I want you.” I tilted my head up a little more causing him to smile a little. “You have no idea how hard it is to stop, especially when you say things like that… but I want you to still want me, want this, in the morning. So, I still think we should wait, I don’t want it to be just the heat of the moment.”

I knew he was right. As infuriating as that fact was. I wanted him, so badly it felt like I couldn’t breathe. However, that was right now, but it wasn’t so long ago that just a touch had me tensing and pulling away. This couldn’t be a heat-of-the-moment decision, irrespective of whether I understood it or not, whatever this was between us was too important. I wouldn’t be reckless with it.

So, he rolled off of me and I let him. Taking a deep breath of the non-Pietro-tinted air. I closed my eyes and attempted to settle my highly strung nerve-endings. The bed shifted as Pietro moved to stand.

“You could stay.” I knew it was risky, particularly given what had happened between us earlier. Pietro froze in his spot, standing beside my bed watching me, with slightly raised eyebrows. There was silence between us for a long moment then. I shook my head. “You don’t have to…”

He shook his head, taking a step closer. “No, I do want to stay, I do. I just don’t want you to be offering unless that’s actually what you want.”

Was it what I wanted? My heart was racing and the prospect of sharing the bed frankly terrified me a little. It wasn’t as though we’d never shared a bed. We had in Moscow, but this felt entirely different. Maybe it’s because there, he was the one who was the more vulnerable, and here – now that I had nothing to hide behind, I was the vulnerable one. Even when we’d been so intimately close just now, no guards up, no defenses, that terrified me.

“I do… It’s just, a lot, but I do want you to stay.” To punctuate my words, I slid over a little more on my bed, flipping the covers back for him. He watched me carefully as he fiddled with the corner of the duvet. A small smile grew on his lips as he slowly got into the bed beside me. I settled back against the pillow, my heart still thumping against my chest as I lay on my side, facing him. He mirrored my position, moving a little closer, gazing tenderly at me. He reached over to turn the lamp off.

“Wait!” I shot up beside him, causing him to halt immediately. He sent me a questioning look, hand hovering in mid-air. My cheeks burned, embarrassment sizzling in me as I searched for words to explain my abrupt behavior. “I-There is something you should know first.” He dropped his hand to his side, nodding softly at me and gesturing for me to go on. “I can’t sleep in silence. I haven’t been able to ever since…” I swallowed heavily, running a hand through my hair. “I just can’t sleep without a reminder that I’m not there so F.R.I.D.A.Y. plays city sounds in my room at night. It is stupid I know, but that is the only way I can sleep so I get it if you don’t want to sleep in here now.”

The look he gave me then was hard to describe, one thing that stood out was the absolute lack of judgment in his eyes. He didn’t roll his eyes or sigh he just moved closer to me, hand ever so gently caressing my cheek. “It’s not stupid.” He spoke in absolutes. “And it does not have the slightest effect on me wanting to stay.” I let out a slightly shaky breath.

“Okay. I just thought I should tell you.” I leaned over him to turn off the light so that he wouldn’t see the shade my face had turned. Though it likely didn’t hide much as the second we laid down I felt his hand return to my cheek, moving the hair out of my face and smoothing over my skin. By the time the faint sounds of the city began filtering into the previously silent room I was far more occupied with the man who laid before me. I felt the warmth radiating from his chest and despite myself, I moved slightly closer to him. His free arm slid beneath my pillow, not actually touching me, just there, a solid, consistent reminder. His other hand remained on my cheek, playing with my hair, dusting across my warm skin.

“If you’re comfortable so am I.” His breath fanned over my face, his words a mere murmur. I barely recognized the stinging in my eyes until I felt the hot stream of liquid leave my eyes. There, lying in my bed with him touching my skin so intimately I was sure I’d never felt so at ease in my life. I had expected that prickling sensation of discomfort to set in, yet there was no trace of it as my heart slowed and my body melted into his hand.

His fingers grazed over my wet cheeks, halting for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was hushed. “Did I upset you?” I shook my head against his hand.

“I’m not upset.”

I felt him shift a little, more of his warmth radiating onto me. “But you’re crying.”

My chin grazed his shoulder when I moved, fingers shaky as they fell to his wrist. I smoothed my thumb over the soft flesh on the inner side of his arm, feeling the steady thump of his pulse. He wiped my tears away, soft in that way only Pietro knew how to be. “I’m not upset,” I repeated. “You just… I’m not good at saying these things… You just say and do things for me that no other person has ever done before. Things that I’ve never even realized I wanted someone to do, and you just know and… honestly, it scares the shit out of me, Pietro.” It was hushed, the tone in which I spoke to him. Just like it had been that day when we lay side by side in Central Park. Because some words were just for the two of us to share.

“I don’t want to scare you, Nadia.”

I smiled a little. “Well, you do. When I’m with you, I feel these things that I’ve never felt before, I don’t understand the feelings and I don’t know what to do with them all.”

He smoothed my hair back with his palm, just like he had earlier. “You could always give them to me. I’ll take them.”

I closed my eyes with those words lingering between us. His hand was still on my cheek, caressing, brushing through my hair. When sleep came, I welcomed it.

When I awoke during the night – as I did; there was no red, the panic came and went and the only thing that remained was the warmth of Pietro’s embrace.

…

Sunlight drew a warm line across my cheek as I awoke. My body was still heavy with sleep as I cracked my eyes open. The warm weight of Pietro’s arm lay over my shoulders, the man himself flat on his back, still fast asleep. My head was resting on his chest. The corners of my lips tugged upward as I watched him, a peaceful expression on his face. I laid my head over my arm, studying the arches of his eyebrows, the curve of his jaw, and the smooth pale skin of his cheeks. His nose crinkled slightly.

“Why are you staring at me, Prinţesă?” He cracked an eye open as he spoke, voice deep with sleep.

I looked away quickly. “I was not staring.” I scoffed.

 He snickered. “You’re not a very good liar, Nadia.”

“I’m an exemplary liar, actually, you’re just delusional.” His signature smirk appeared on his lips. I looked away quickly, hiding my smile. When I gazed out at my room I was shocked by the state of it. There were books and papers all over the place. I wracked my brain for what had possibly caused that mess before glancing back at Pietro accusingly. His expression turned sheepish.

“I was excited!” He defended.”

“You are like a bull in a China shop.” I tsked. He only shot me a toothy grin. He slipped from the warm embrace of the bed to begin collecting my belongings that had been strewn about. I rolled onto my back, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

“Who is Nadia Morozova?”

I shot up at the mention of the name, Pietro stood across the room, striking with the sunlight pooling in my bedroom, in his hands was the file I’d thought I’d hidden yesterday. It must’ve fallen from the shelf when Pietro was running around.

With a heavy swallow and several long moments of hesitation, I finally spoke. “I am.” I got out of bed swiftly, grabbing the file out of his hands, and clutching it so tightly that the paper began to crinkle. “Pimenova is the name I took when I defected, originally it was Morozova.” The cold mask of indifference, I forced over myself chaffed as I stood in his unwavering gaze.

“Okay. So, what is that.” He pointed at the folder in my hands.

“My file,” I spoke as if it was obvious.

The corners of Pietro’s lips upturned. “Yes, but why is Nick Fury sending you your file.”

My grip tightened again on the manila folder.  I shrugged at the man before me. “What is this, an interrogation?”

“Actually, it’s this crazy thing called communicating, figured maybe we could try it.” He teased.

“Fury’s sending it to me because he can’t leave well enough alone.” Pietro raised an eyebrow at me, evidently not content with my answer. “I really don’t understand why you’re so invested.”

“Because you’re clearly upset.”

“Oh, for fucks sake, Pietro! Fury is hassling me because he thinks he’s found some bullshit lead on my biological family, but this isn’t the first time he’s saying that, and I had no interest in it then either.”

That momentarily silenced him. He furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t understand, why wouldn’t you want that?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Want what?”

“You have an opportunity to have a relationship with your family, to know them. Why wouldn’t you take it.”

“Because I don’t want it.”

“Why?”

I threw the file onto my bed, now empty hands clenching into fists at my side. “I just don’t.” 

“How can you say that?!” His tone was impassioned when he spoke, taking me by surprise. I didn’t understand what he was feeling right now. “If I had the choice, I would give anything to see my parents again, I don’t have that luxury. You do and you’re choosing wrong!”

“The luxury?” Before I could say anything else, Pietro cut me off.

“It isn’t even just about your parents, what if you have a sibling out there? You don’t even care? You’re just choosing to ignore it?”

My heart clenched and raced at the same time. I was incensed then. “Choosing?! That’s funny, really. I didn’t choose anything about this! You seriously have no idea what you’re talking about, you had a family Pietro! You still have Wanda. I never knew my parents or any siblings. I never had that. So don’t act like it’s even comparable. Even if I did have a family out there, they’d only be strangers to me and me to them, so what’s the difference anyway?” I blinked rapidly in an attempt to lessen the stinging in my eyes. Pietro’s eyes softened as he looked at me.

“Nadia-”

“I’d be doing them a disservice anyway. At least if they think I’m dead or missing or whatever, they can just remember me as the child they lost. The one they knew. I don’t want to ruin that memory for them.” He stared at me with parted lips, eyes gentle and a merciful look in them. I felt the tears break the barrier of my waterline and I was furious. Pietro was before me in an instant. My throat felt raw as I continued. “I don’t want them to know me…”

“Nadia… letting them know you is not a disservice. Knowing you is and always will be nothing less than a privilege.”

I shook my head, wiping frantically at my face to rid myself of the tears. “Just stop.”

“No, Nadia. Look at me.” He placed his hands on my shoulders, and I turned my face away from him. His hand brought me back, wiping the tears from each of my cheeks and forcing me to meet his eyes. “You need you to know that… I need you to know that!” The tears kept coming despite my hardest attempts to stop them. “Tell me you know that.” His voice was quieter then. When I didn’t respond, his hands eclipsed my cheeks, his eyes were wide and desperate as he looked at me. “You saved my life, again and again, you have saved so many people and never expected anything in return. Even when you didn’t trust me, or even particularly like me, you still trained me. You still helped me become an Avenger. You took me to New York, to your place because you knew I didn’t have one of my own. You gave my sister a clean slate. Why did you do all of that?”

“I don’t know.” I shook my head. “It was just the right thing to do.”

“But not everyone would have done it. You did. Because you’re a good person… more than that there aren’t words to describe how good you are inside, Nadia.” He didn’t let go of me once and even though I turned from him and pushed him, he knew that I didn’t actually want him to leave. He knew that I needed him, so he stayed and never even acknowledged it. “It kills me that you can’t see that.” He leaned his forehead against mine. “I need you to see that.”

I wrapped my arms around him. I hugged him and it terrified me still, but the only thing I felt was warm and golden. Everything wasn’t completely perfect, but it was okay.

It felt like daylight after years of clinging to the darkness of night.

[yeowangies]

dangerous - chapter IV

❧

Chapter I I Chapter II I Chapter III | Chapter IV: New Routine

PAIRING: Vegeta/Reader RATING: Explicit CONTENTS: Explicit sexual content, Canon typical violence WORDCOUNT: 4327

Summary:

You missed connecting with other people, other humans, so much it hurt. You missed your parents, your friends, your pet; you missed sleeping on your own bed, that was ten times more comfortable than the mattress you had in that room in Frieza’s palace. You even missed sparring with someone who you knew could give you a good punch but would still worry about your well being afterwards.

Training. That’s what you needed then. To let out some emotions.

Notes: Hello! It's been a while since I updated this fic, but it's been on my mind for a while. I have the outline of it written down, so I hope I can release a new chapter fairly often? And since this is a work in progress, I hope you can bear with me if there are any inconsistencies 😭 This story has a point, and I know where I wanna go, so please be patient!

I'm surprised of how popular this fic is among all my fics, and it remained the one with the most hits on AO3 until recently, so I hope yall stay with me until the end 💕

Vegeta was not the same man he was years back. Having destroyed planet after planet without actually meeting someone who could match him in strength had led him to a certain feeling of boredom and numbness that had engraved into his soul. 

For all purposes, he was still the same, however. He was still working under Frieza, with a silly plot in mind to overthrow him someday, but at the same time knowing he wasn’t nearly strong enough to do it. His bloodlust had decreased along with his interest in purging planets, but it changed nothing because that was still his job in the Frieza Force. He trained whenever he was staying on-planet, in between missions, like he always did. 

That loop he was trapped in made him wonder over the years if the time when he could overthrow Frieza would ever come. Vegeta had calculated how much stronger he needed to be to defeat him, but it seemed unreachable. Especially if his sparring partners were Nappa and Raditz, who were still incredibly inferior to him. 

At least, you showing up in his life had been a pleasant surprise. 

Your presence hardly changed anything. It’s not like you had some hidden power that would prove to challenge his own strength. You didn’t have any information regarding the legend of the Super Saiyan; you weren’t even a Saiyan, though your species resembled them physically, but only physically. Every time Vegeta touched you, he got the feeling you might bruise. 

And you did bruise, especially the first few times he had lay with you. Vegeta was restraining himself whenever he shared a bed with you, but in retrospect, he probably wasn’t doing that much the first couple of times. He had a lot of pent up energy, anger and lust for things he couldn’t have, and it didn’t help the way you enticed him. It was a strange feeling that invaded him when he noticed the marks he’d left on you, almost like he felt bad. Almost. In any case, you seemed to like whenever he hurt you, though. 

What would such a feeble being mean to him, though?

Vegeta didn’t really understand the feeling that invaded him as he got to spend more and more time alone with you. It was pleasant, that much he could tell, even the words he exchanged with you before and after sex. He had never entertained himself with any feeling that made him feel ‘warm’ like then. Violence and battle had never awoken something like this in him. 

He felt vulnerable. 

Which was stupid, because who could hurt him? You? Certainly not. Your power level was puny, even when you claimed not to be as weak as you looked. He could kill you with a finger if he so desired. 

That was what was scary, though. He didn’t want to kill you. 

Maybe not yet. Vegeta told himself that he didn’t want to kill you yet. You were a good lay and a nice distraction from the stress and ire he had whenever he was alone, or surrounded by his subordinates. He had spent over thirty years under Frieza’s wings and he was nowhere near as strong as he was, and your presence made everything else fade to nothing. 

Even through all that, he sometimes still didn’t understand you. 

“Vegeta, how old are you?” You asked him, as you lied beside him.

It had been a few minutes since you both had reached your peaks (you had gotten there twice, and he was proud that he knew your body so well, he could make you orgasm with simply his fingers), and you were still trying to catch your breath when you turned your face to look at him. You stared at him too often, and he felt bothered by it at times.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because I’m curious?” Vegeta quirked an eyebrow in your direction, and you rolled your eyes. “I just want to know if I’m sleeping with a 100 year old man, or if it’s someone younger. Am I not allowed to know?”

“Do I really look like an old man?” He chuckled.

“Well, no. But I mean, I know a lot of species that don’t age, so I wouldn’t know.”

“Saiyans don’t reach adulthood until they reach their fifties. I will still look like this for a couple of decades.”

“Oh…” You remained silent for a few seconds before repeating your original question. “So, how old?”

“I’m thirty two.” Vegeta said, at last. The wide smile on your face made him frown. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m twenty nine.”

“So?”

“So I’m glad I’m younger.”

Vegeta didn’t understand you at all, most of the time. 

When you carefully nuzzled closer, and trailed a hand down his abdomen, he did understand that. He kept his eyes on your face, staring at you with desire as you wrapped your hand around his erection. It had only taken him a minute for his cock to stir back to life after he had already spent his load; it was something that happened all the time when you were around. 

Vegeta kept his eyes open even when you leaned to chastely kiss his lips before trailing lower down his neck and chest, slowly moving your hand over his length. He tried to keep his gaze on you when you licked up the underside of his dick, staring right back at him as you kittenishly lapped at the head. When your lips wrapped around his cock, Vegeta couldn’t focus on anything else, except the sensation of your warm mouth as it engulfed him entirely, almost like it was easy, like it belonged there. 

He remembered the initial small fear the first time you put your lips on him. Not that you could ever really hurt him. But after he had given in that time, he couldn’t get enough. At least he never had to ask, or worse, beg, for you to use your mouth on him; you seemed more than eager and willing to pleasure him.

Shame on him. He had actually given you power over his body. 

But Vegeta couldn’t care less in that moment, when you were bobbing your head up and down, humming contently as the tip of his cock grazed the back of your throat. He groaned, hips jerking upwards, seeking more of that wet heat. You gazed at him through glossy eyes as you sped up your moves, trying to hold him inside for longer, as the muscles in his abdomen tensed.

The heat inside him unraveled, making him growl as he spilled cum down your throat, feeling the intense burn of release pulsing through his veins. You swallowed all of it, and he heard you gag around a mouthful of cum as you slowly pulled back, pumping his cock with your hand to help him ride out his orgasm. He opened his eyes to look at you then, sporting a playful smile as you licked your lips clean of every drop that might have been there as you crawled back over him. 

You let go of his length to wrap your arms around his neck as you kissed him, nice and slow. Vegeta returned the affection, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. He had gotten used to ‘kissing’ after the first few times he had sex with you, even when he had rarely done that with whoever he had fucked before. But you seemed eager to do it every time, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. 

Your heartbeat was going fast again, he could feel it when you pressed closer to him. You had told him it had nothing to do with fear, something he had associated with it before. Seemed like your heart was always beating that fast every time you were with him. He wondered why, what kind of emotion provoked that in you?

It must have been something good, as it did not slow down when he reached your entrance with his fingers. He was pleased to know that you were still wet, obviously from sucking him off, but also due to the previous load he had spilled inside you the first round, his cum and your slick mixing in and making it so much better for him to slide in again. 

Vegeta had not expected your brash and lewd attitude to be so attractive. 

If he had to be honest, he hadn’t had sex as often as his two henchmen probably had. He wasn’t as experienced, but it’s not like he knew nothing. However, he wondered how much he did not know when you were with him. You hadn’t mentioned his lack of experience at all, he tried his best to hide it and so far, you seemed unaware of it. But the things you did to him sometimes left him wondering how many things could be done in intimacy. 

The first time you gave him oral sex, it intrigued him, but when you had taught him something called sixty nine, it fascinated him. And apparently sex wasn’t exclusively reserved for the bedroom. He knew that, but doing it in the shower had been pleasant. 

Vegeta didn’t dwell on anything when he pushed his cock inside you, grunting against your lips as you started rocking your hips. He was overwhelmed, not only by how tight and warm and wet you were; your sweet scent invaded his nose, making him feel drowsy, and your moans were music to his ears, and even his name sounded so honeyed every time it spilled from your lips. It was like being in a haze, drowning in bliss, as he came inside you, holding tightly onto your hips, afraid you might disappear. 

You were exhausted afterwards, and fell asleep minutes later. 

Vegeta took that opportunity to leave. Most of the time he usually waited for you to fall into a deep slumber before taking off. He never spent the night. He already felt weak for having sex with a human more than a handful of times, but it was difficult sometimes to leave that warm bed of yours at times. 

He was getting softer. He was aware, and he had no one to blame but himself. You had given him a small sense of purpose, but it was frail. He only liked to fuck you, what good would that do to him? 

Grumbling in annoyance, Vegeta gathered his clothes, putting them on before leaving your bedroom.

*

You were used to waking up alone the morning after having sex with Vegeta. You were used to it, but it didn’t make you feel any less used. You could understand why he wouldn’t spend the night, but you were still human enough, and not sleeping together at least once made you feel disposable.

Whatever. Vegeta wasn’t your boyfriend. 

Running your hands through your hair, you took a shower, getting rids of the remains of your activities from the night before. 

It had already been almost two months since you got back to planet Frieza 80 (was it 80? 81? You weren’t sure). Over three months since you met Vegeta, Raditz and Nappa. Vegeta kept showing up at your door occasionally. More often than not, actually. It surprised you; it had been a shock the second time he knocked your door when you were on that spaceship months ago, it was still a surprise that he actively had been visiting you even after that mission was over. He didn’t show up every night, but he did it so often, he might as well have. The only time he didn’t were a few weeks in between when he had been on a mission God knows where along with Nappa.

You tried to keep a lot of your emotions in check frequently, but seeing Vegeta intimately so often made it difficult. You knew he wasn’t close to being emotionally invested in you, he showed it every time you interacted with him outside the bedroom; he treated you like he treated everyone else, like shit. But his ability to be somehow soft with you in private confused you. He obviously just wanted to get laid, as much as you did. 

You were just lonely. 

It had nothing to do with Vegeta or anyone else. You simply missed being in contact with someone who had the emotional depth of an actual sentient being, and not just slaves of Frieza’s army. You couldn’t blame anyone; being under a tyrannical reign would make you distrust your own shadow, it was only natural no one revealed anything about themselves to anyone else. It was a miracle the three remaining Saiyans even trusted each other. 

And if you were honest with yourself, as much as you liked Vegeta, you weren’t sure if you trusted him at all. Sex meant vulnerability, but you couldn’t show it with someone you knew was always on guard, even when you were being intimate. 

You felt like you were turning into one of those soldiers without emotional depth.

You tried not to tear up as you put on your clothes after your shower. You missed connecting with other people, other humans, so much it hurt. You missed your parents, your friends, your pet; you missed sleeping on your own bed, that was ten times more comfortable than the mattress you had in that room in Frieza’s palace. You even missed sparring with someone who you knew could give you a good punch but would still worry about your well being afterwards.

Training. That’s what you needed then. To let out some emotions. 

The training rooms used by the Saiyans were reserved for only them, and other high ranking officers that might want to use it, but you knew Vegeta was the one who visited it the most (you had to repair it often because of him). You also knew he wasn’t going to be there so early after spending the night with you, so after grabbing something quick to eat, you headed to the training room. 

You didn’t expect to see Raditz there, however. 

“Hey, doll,” He greeted you with a grin, and you rolled your eyes. He kept calling you that and it just stuck. “What brought you here?”

You stared at him for a long minute; he had been training too, wearing only his trunks and boots as sweat ran down his body and settled in places that made you want to look at him for longer than what should be allowed. 

“I wanted to warm up a bit,” You averted your eyes quickly, focusing on the wall behind him. “But if you’re using the room, I’ll come back later.”

“Warm up, huh?” Raditz asked, obviously mocking you by the way he was smiling. “I want to see what you got.”

“You wanna spar with me?” You blinked, confused. 

“Yeah, or am I too much for you, human?”

He was provoking you, you knew it, but it was working. Your power wasn’t low, but you weren’t sure if you could actually match Raditz in a one on one battle. But this could be a good way to find out. His power was the lowest among the three Saiyans and he had been the nicest to you, so maybe he wouldn’t kill you if your power proved to be puny compared to his. 

“Alright, I’m game.” 

“Sweet!”

You took a step back to get rid of your armor, and you felt his eyes scanning your body as you adjusted your skin tight suit. He and Nappa never stopped leering at you any chance they got, and every time you had to remind yourself it had to do with the fact that you looked a lot like a Saiyan. They only seemed to like it more when you tell them to stop anyway. 

Raditz changed the gleam in his eyes when you faced him; he obviously didn’t see you as a threat, if anything he seemed to be mocking you by daring you to fight him. 

You launched at him, and he saw it coming easily, no matter how fast you were, grabbing your fist with one hand when you aimed it at his face, then grabbing your leg when you tried to kick him in the face again. And so on and so on with any physical attack you tried to pull off. 

Raditz didn’t even flinch with any attempt you made at connecting with him, and it was starting to piss you off. You were only just getting started, but he obviously wasn’t taking you seriously, remaining on his spot with a smirk as you tried to actually deck him. 

There was no point in holding back if that was how it was going to be. 

Taking a few steps back, you threw yourself at Raditz, aiming to hit him in the chest with your feet. You barely touched him when he grabbed your legs with both hands, a wide smirk on his face, and you couldn’t help but smile back as you got your hands up in his face, firing a ki blast in a split second that made him stumble back. He groaned loudly, the grip he had on you loosening, giving you the chance to actually kick him in the face this time, and swiftly wrapping your legs around his neck to throw him to the ground. 

A loud thud echoed in the room when his body hit the floor, and you stared down at him with amusement. 

“Fuck!” Raditz grunted, a few drops of blood dripping from his nose as he pulled his hands towards his face. 

“You could have easily avoided all those attacks if you had taken me seriously from the beginning.”

You took a step back as Raditz stood up again, smirking as he wiped the blood off his face. 

“I won’t make the same mistake again.”

And he didn’t. 

You supposed Raditz was going easy on you at first, but at least he took your attacks seriously, and once you had thrown him to the ground twice (being small and flexible in comparison was a great advantage against him), he’d seemed to have enough. He actually started to hit you back, throwing punches and kicks that left you breathless with the sheer force he was using. 

Fuck it. You started this a warm up or a spar, but he was fighting for real. 

Ki blasts flew from both sides until it basically looked like a firework show, and dodging them got even more difficult for the both of you. Raditz had more stamina, his body was built for that, but this confrontation had been dragging on for a while, you could tell he needed a break, and so did you; the places he had managed to connect with ached like a bitch, and you’d end up with bruises all over your body if you didn’t end this quick. 

Gathering what little energy you had left in the palm of your hand, you threw a ki blast right in his face, which he avoided easily, only to be met with your fist. He grabbed it swiftly like you expected, and you consequently held onto his arm with your other hand. Using it as leverage, you lifted yourself up to land a kick on his face with both of your feet, making him fall on his side. You barely had any strength left, so you let yourself fall beside him, groaning in pain when you hit the floor. 

“Time up…” You panted, struggling to even speak. “You win…”

“How the fuck is this my win? You knocked me down.” Raditz grunted, sitting up and glaring at you. 

“I don't have energy left, you could easily give me the final blow…”

“I’m not pleased to ‘win’ like this against a human.” He said, and you could feel in his tone he was genuinely frustrated. 

You remained quiet, unsure of what to say. Strength, battles and discipline was viewed differently in this world than it was in your planet, and you didn’t blame him. You didn’t have to actively fight for survival when you lived on Earth. When Earth still existed. 

You jolted when the door suddenly opened, and Zarbon walked in, followed closely by Vegeta and Nappa. You sat up, staring wide eyed. You had only seen the guy a handful of times, but he was looking straight at you, and trepidation quickly bubbled up inside you. 

“You, human girl,” He addressed you with a loud, imposing voice. “You’re a mechanic, aren’t you?”

“Yes?”

“Not anymore. You’re similar to the Saiyans, you'll be joining them in your next mission.”

“What?!” You complained as you stood up on shaky legs. “Why?!”

“Quit your whining.” Vegeta said, glaring at you. “It’s been decided, so shut up.”

You faltered, his words settling in your brain. You didn't even whine that much. 

“I had no idea you had that kind of power.” Zarbon kept looking at you, scanning every inch of your body, and you felt the need to cover up, even though you were fully dressed. “Puny, compared to mine, but enough to make yourself useful.”

Your eye twitched but you said nothing until he finally left a second later. 

“What is going on?!” You asked, screamed, eyes flickering between Nappa and Vegeta.

“Your little fight caught the bastard’s attention.” Nappa grumbled, annoyed. “He saw the whole thing.”

You sighed, frustrated. All training rooms had two way mirrors, though you’ve rarely seen anyone actually using them. 

“You’re going to train with us starting tomorrow.” Vegeta said. You knew him enough to know how angry he was, though you weren’t sure why. 

“Fine.” You grumbled. 

Vegeta glared at you and Raditz before he turned to leave, followed closely by Nappa. You sat on the floor next to Raditz as he turned to look at you with curious eyes. 

“Pleased to make yourself useful?”

“I am useful even if I don’t fight.” You scoffed, stretching your arms. 

“The real fun starts now.” Raditz grinned at you. 

You wanted to return the smile, but you couldn’t. You weren’t looking forward to the torture that was going to be training with beings who were genetically designed to fight endlessly. You were just a human; you had trained enough to achieve a level to be on the par with Raditz, but you would probably never get to go that much higher. 

“I had fun training with you.” You said after a while, as you both got up. And this time, you did smile. “I think I needed it.”

“I enjoyed it, too.” Raditz replied, smiling faintly. “Let me know when you want to do it again, girl.”

You watched him walk out the room and down the corridor before you turned to leave in the opposite direction. You needed to get some painkillers and hopefully something that would make the bruises fade away quicker, if there even was such a thing, at the medical unit. 

After picking up food in the dining room, you took the rest of the day off. You showered and applied ointment on every visible bruise you could find on your body (and there were many) before settling down on your bed. Tiredness settled in quickly, but it would take a while for the painkillers to kick in; both of your sides ached with every move, so you could only lie in bed and stare at the ceiling until you dozed off. 

After a couple of hours, Vegeta’s ki moving towards your room woke you up. You hoped to God he wasn’t thinking of actually fucking you that night; you didn’t know how much of your fight with Raditz did he see, but it must have been obvious that you weren’t capable of moving too much that night. Not to mention that it had pissed you off that he had told you to shut up the way he did. 

Vegeta stood outside your door, you could feel his ki flickering (nervously maybe?), but given that you were a little pissed at him, you waited; you wanted him to actually knock. And he took his damn time, only knocking once after a few minutes. 

“Open up.” His voice ordered from the other side, making your annoyance increase.

You opened the door just enough so he could see your face and part of your body in your sleeping clothes, visible contusions tainting your skin. His eyes scanned you quickly and when he tried to push the door so he could walk in, you stopped him. 

“What do you want?”

Vegeta raised his eyebrow at your tone, and you could see him struggling to find the right words to say. 

“Let me in.”

“No.”

“What’s wrong with you?” He frowned, obviously irritated as well. 

“What's wrong with me? You really expect to just walk in here like every other day? Like you don’t see the bruises all over my body?!” You yelled, making Vegeta scoff.

“Humans are so fragile-”

“Well, too bad you’re sleeping with one.” You interrupted him, earning one of his most heated glares in return. He obviously hated being interrupted, but you were too annoyed to care. “I’m sure you’ll find someone else to entertain yourself with.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Vegeta asked through gritted teeth. “You were begging me to fuck you the first time!”

“And now I’m saying ‘no’ because you’re a jackass. Who do you think you are?! You will never tell me to shut up like that again!” You seethed, pushing him with a hand on his chest. He did not move an inch, but he was staring at you with eyes wide open, evidently surprised about your reaction. “Goodbye, Vegeta.”

You closed the door swiftly in his face. His ki spiked briefly, and for a second you thought he might burst in. He never did, and some minutes later, you felt his presence get further away as he retreated. 

[niraff14]

Secret Signs

It had been a slow day and Taliss was looking forward to it ending, the sun was already hanging low in the sky. The rays shining through the windows of Gage's Acquisitions company windows. The atmosphere was almost unsettling, and Taliss couldn't really figure out why lately she'd just had a gnawing feeling at the back of her mind without any real answer.

That feeling was gnawing at her now even as she leaned against the rail of the grand staircase that led to the second floor. Her heterchromia eyes gazing towards the main door, as if her violet and green pupils were trying to see through it.

As if in response the door swung open and a tall slim man entered, dark scales and horns immediately identifying him as a Xaela. His garb also looked to be fairly tribal as if he was still living in the Steppe. Maybe he was, but what would bring him all the way here? His colors seemed to indicate he was from the Kha tribe.

"Good evening, is there something I can help you with?" Came another voice from near the reception desk, Yesuntei had been filing some paperwork and noticed the new arrival. Greeting him in that friendly manner of hers that could almost fool you into thinking the girl was more naive than she really was.

The xaela man regarded the pale xaela with red limbaled eyes that gave him a very intense look. "Perhaps, I am seeking someone." He spoke, while at the same time his hands shifting between several gestures.

Yesuntei did not notice the motions as she tilted her head, "Someone here? Or were you wanting to hire Gage's to find someone for you, so long as it is for legal reasons!"

Taliss's eyes however went wide as she spotted the repeated gestures that meant nothing to Yesuntei, the nearby servants hired in service to the company. But meant everything to her as the gestures were nearly shouting out, though unheard by all except her. (I'm looking for a Moks)

The dark skinned xaela pushed off the rail and moved over to the two while smiling lightly, "I may be able to help our guest Yesuntei of the Kagon. Afterall I do have a talent for dealing with people in various manners."

With a raised brow the tanned xaela man turned towards Taliss, "And what makes you so confident you can help me my dear?" He spoke with a more low tone that came out smooth yet in a questioning manner.

"Because I am Taliss of the Hotgo, and I have many different talents. Though perhaps we could discuss things more privately," She spoke with a wide grin, even as she brought a hand up to brush her bangs out of the way. As she did so her fingers twisted subtly into a sign for a brief moment, the closeness to her as she did so conveying non-verbally. (I am Moks)

Yesuntei eye rolled briefly, "Taliss please do not take advantage of our guest before he's given us a job."

The strange xaela man gave a nod, "Yes, I believe that would be apt to do Taliss Hotgo. Do not worry Yesuntei Kagon I believe she is right."

Taliss continued to smile while motioning for him to follow her, which he did after a moment, the much shorter xaela leading him to an empty room and closing the door behind them.

Yesuntei tilted her head to the side looking confused, "That was a tad…odd."

In the room the xaela male spoke briefly, "I am Usun of the Kha," He then began to sign with his hands more openly, now that there were not prying eyes. (And I have been looking for you.)

She quirked her brow curiously as she signed back to him while gazing up at the rugged xaela. (Why would the Moks be looking for me specifically?)

(Your parent tribe was destroyed, several Moks with it. You were not found so we did not know if you had perished. Several sightings were reported but not confirmed. So we began looking to see if you or any other Moks with that tribe had survived.)

Taliss gave a small nod while signing quickly though hesitating at certain parts, (I was not present during the attack, I had my own…problems I was dealing with.)

Usun frowned a moment as he replied nonverbally, (You should have sent a sign, the survival of the Moks and all of the Xaela depends on us working together. It is time for you to return.)

She shook her head as she replied, her own lips frowning, (I cannot return yet, I have responsibilities here it would look strange. Besides the Moks know very little of Eorzea and its people.)

The man drew in a long breath before letting it out in an annoyed sigh, (Perhaps we'd know more if you had bothered to get in contact and tell us what you had learned. Though you do raise a good point.)

Taliss smiled again, her tail giving a sultry sway, (Perhaps I can tell you what I have learned and then with the others you can decide if it would be better for me to stay or return.)

Usun tilted his own head a moment as if in thought before nodding, (Very well, relay to me and I will take the information back.)

The dark skinned xaela girl began to sign more, as she started going over what she'd learned about Eorzea. Its city states, its people, Gage's Acquisitions. Granted she had to verbally say some words due to not having an equivalent within the Moks language.

Over an hour later, the door open and Usun exitted, "Thank you Taliss Hotgo, you were very helpful, perhaps we will cross paths again soon." He stated with a bow before he left the building entirely.

Yesuntei blinked and looked back towards the room as Taliss leaned against the door frame with a lusty look in her eyes, "That…I'm not sure I wish to know." The pale skinned Kagon said outwardly, however internally she was confused and unsure of what had gone on. She saw them go in the room, heard the man state his name was Usun, and then nothing beyond a low whisper from Taliss every so often. It was extremely peculiar. 'I wonder if I should tell Erick or Dark about this…as that was weird even for Taliss.' She thought to herself.

[dross-the-fish]

So, it's probably not wrong to assume that Adam wouldn't mind anon dragging him on a nature walk/hike? 😳

He absolutely wouldn't! It would be one of his favorite activities. I placed this shortly after Adam's arrival in England, everything is still a little new to him.

....

 “What has you so excited today?” Adam asked as Anon practically danced up to him one morning.

“I found a new path through the woods!” they exclaimed reaching for his hand, “I want you to come and explore it with me.”

Adam could hardly contain his smile, “Oh? What’s this? You wish to embark into forests unknown? Most would call that unwise, little friend.”

“That’s why I’m bringing you, that way if there’s anything dangerous, I know you’ve got my back,” they grinned impishly, prompting a laugh from Adam.

“I suppose I am more terrifying than most things we’ll encounter. Shall we pack some provisions and venture out at noon?”

Anon nodded eagerly and raced to the kitchens to begin selecting snacks to bring. By the time the grandfather clock in the parlor struck noon they were waiting, pack in hand, by the front door for Adam.

“I see you didn’t waste any time,” Adam gave them a pat on the shoulder and opened the door for them, “Lead the way to this path of yours!”

Once they set foot outside Adam couldn’t help slowing his pace to a leisurely stroll. It was spring, and every branch and stem sported brilliant blooms. The warm breeze carried the clean fragrance of new life waking after a long winter and Adam paused to soak it in for a moment.

Impatient as Anon was to get to their path they couldn’t help but find it a little endearing how Adam seemed to take so much pleasure in such a small thing. They waited for him to resume their walk and when he caught their eye, he tilted his head.

“What are you smiling at?” he asked.

“Nothing,” they replied, the smile broadened and without another word they took his hand.

They walked like that, in comfortable silence until a motorcar appeared down the road and Adam suddenly released Anon’s hand and darted into a copse of trees, ducking out of sight. The car passed and Adam tentatively crept back onto the road.

“Do you think anyone saw me?” he asked anxiously.

Anon frowned, “You know, you can’t always hide every time you see strangers. I promise no one is going to let you get hurt,” they assure him, reaching again for his hand.

Sheepishly, Adam drew back, “I know,” he said quietly, “but it’s still new to me, to be around people again. My appearance has never gone over well and I’m afraid if the wrong person sees me, it could end…badly,” he gestured at his tattered cheek.

“Because you’re afraid they’ll attack you?” Anon asked.

Adam’s face darkened, the contortion of his features causing the slackened skin of his torn cheek to draw taut and expose more of the red-brown flesh and glints of copper wire underneath, “That, and because I do not know how I will react should they scream and call me ‘monster.’ I may be incited to anger and they may end up dead. I am making my peace with mankind for the sake of Dr. Watson and yourself but I do not yet consider myself friend to the human race. I have not practiced benevolence since my birth and it is coming to me more slowly than I had hoped. Until I am confident that I am master of my rage I wish to avoid provocations.”

He looked down at Anon, studying their face for some sign of condemnation or disgust. He would forgive them if it was there, he knew his ugliness was more than skin deep and he would make allowances for Anon to be repulsed by his nature.

Anon regarded him for a moment, a frown crossing their features. Slowly they held out their hand to him again, reaching out in a gesture of acceptance and unexpected kindness.

Adam swallowed back a lump in his throat and grasped their hand. They smiled softly and led him onward, to a branch in the road where the afternoon sun was swallowed up by dense trees and the cobblestone broke away into to a crooked dirt path that was nearly hidden by foliage. The forest thickened, the air became dense with the sound of birds and the rustle of life moving in the underbrush. The most wonderful lush, green, smell wrapped around them as they descended, deep into the wood.

As they walked Adam was keen to stop and pick interesting blossoms, pulling a small book out of his vest pocket and pressing them between the pages to preserve them. He felt the bark on each tree, running his hands fondly over the knots of gnarled oaks and the deep groves of firs, grinning at the soft mosses and laughing in delight as when they crossed paths with a waddling badger sow and her cubs.

“I saw such creatures in Bavaria.  I know them as Dachse, how are they called in English?”

“Badgers,” Anon replied, unable to keep from grinning, Adam’s joy was infectious and they were glad they had brought him on their hike. As they continued Adam would point out creatures or plants and ask for their English names, which Anon was more than happy to supply. Their walk led them to a small clearing and they agreed it was a good place to rest and eat their lunch.

Pulling a blanket out of their pack anon spread it out so they could sit. Adam, at ease and comfortable in Anon’s presence stretched out on his side with his head propped on his elbow and helped himself to a buttered scone. Though he didn’t need to eat much for sustenance he found himself unable to resist eating for pleasure when the food was a rich pastry. It certainly was a nice change from the unseasoned fish and tough roots he’d had to consume in the artic. He’d considered it lucky when a shipwreck yielded him an apple barrel and he was able to taste fruit again.

As he licked crumbs from his fingers he paused, noticing Anon was watching him with that same affectionate smile from before on their face, “What?” he asked.

Anon buttered their own scone and giggled a little, “Oh, nothing, I’m just glad to see you happy for once.”

Adam smiled back, feeling suddenly shy, “How can I not be happy when I have such a good friend to share their time with me?”

[gavissidehoe]

Heather- Pablo Gavi

angst// warnings: crying

She was tall with a perfect hourglass figure. Her pale and delicate face was surrounded by effortless blonde ringlets that sculpted shape of her face perfectly. She was everything you weren’t.

There they were. Him and her. Sitting all loved up and laughing with each other while looking at each other as if they’re eyes were full of stars. It often crossed my mind if he ever looked at me like that when we were together. If he had ever loved me that much? If them two years meant anything to him at all?

It had been six months since you had seen his face. You knew it was going to happen at some point and you had attempted to brace yourself but it was nothing compared to what it was like in real life.

He hadn’t noticed you yet and you were praying he wouldn’t. Your attempts and staying in the loop of your friends conversation was proving more and more difficult the longer you did it, constantly stealing glances over at them.

The breakup had put you into a dark place. Almost like a depression. You rarely left the house and if hadn’t had been for your friends and family you would have still been in our, my apartment drowning in my own misery.

You initiated the breakup. You wanted to relieve the stress of college and to take some time for yourself and it was initially meant to be a break. A matter of fact neither of you thought it would be permanent. He never even packed his stuff from your apartment. His hoodies. clothes, trophies, jeresys and everything else still remained there.

As days turned into weeks and weeks into months. Pablo started going out more with his friends. Drinking and partying. Pedri had convinced him he was doing nothing wrong as he was single and having a bit of fun was nothing to get all turned up and twisted about.

After a short while he got tired waiting and the feeling of missing you seemed to leave. He met her ‘Sofia’ after a night out at a concert after he offered to have her placed on his shoulders and exchanging numbers.

They met up and now they were at the stage were they would admit they were inlove with each other. Regarding his feelings towards you, he will always love you, you were his first love and for a long time he wanted nothing else but to wake up in your arms for the rest of your life.

If you came back into his life he wasn’t sure if he’d want to get back with you and relive the fighting and never seeing each other. However he would want your love, your smile and your laugh back in his life.

Sofía and him were healthy. Hardly ever fighting and when they did they never lasted long. She loved him. Adored him even. Nearly as much as you had. He loved her as she made him feel calm and happy.

They stood up and thanked the waitress before getting up. The door was behind you and for him to leave the restaurant he would have to pass you. Your heart started beating out of your chest, your eyes started tearing up and cheeks started getting flushed with a rosy pink hue.

He walked closer and lifted his head. His eyes met yours. He exhaled loudly. And smiled.Although it was a sad smile aswell as that his eyes started to gloss and as much as he wanted to take his attention off you and bring his attention back to her he couldn’t.

She was talking to him but he wasn’t paying attention. The only thing on his eyes being your beautifully pigmented eyes and the memories and feelings he had bottled up for months.

She noticed he wasn’t looking at her and followed his eye line over towards you. She turned round her curls bouncing over her shoulders. She smiled and showed of her perfectly coloured ivory white teeth. She was drop dead gorgeous.

She was so incredibly difficult to hate. Yet she was the one person who you wanted to hate more than anything.

You expected him to come over and talk to you and maybe some sort of interaction however he didn’t. He sent you one of his signature smiles. The ones where he showed his teeth and the lines of his face changed. And walked straight by you.

Your heart sunk to your stomach. And you starting choking on your own breath. Tears slowly started escaping your eyes. You got attention from your friends and you announced that you just wanted to go home.

They called you a cab and you returned home. When you entered your home you flipped yourself into bed after changing into shorts and one of his hoodies. One of the few that still smelt like him. And cried. Crying for hours on hours. So hard that your mascara had stained your tan face with black marks all over it.

You were inlove with him and you always will be.

A/N: This is so cliche and i hate it. It is also painfully short but i’m too busy with uni to do anything about it. Anyway hope you enjoy loves!!🧡

[a-student-out-of-time]

Regarding the people being suspicious of Eden thing, it brings to mind a quote from The Incredibles 2: "Politicians don't understand people who do good simply because it's right. It makes 'em nervous." Anon would argue a lot of people in fandoms today are the same: they can't stomach the idea that there are genuinely kind people in the world, because that "makes them feel bad" for not being the same. So, Eden can't GENUINELY be a nice person, because then "they look bad in comparison".

//All of this is actually very interesting because Teruko and Arei both have very similar logic in Chapter 2:

//They have a similar sort of view that kindness, friendship and optimism are naive at best and actively harmful at worst. They've bought into the lie that reality is unilaterally terrible and everyone is an asshole out to get to you, and the only way to survive is to be an asshole right back.

//And it's definitely not for nothing, especially when you look at who says these things:

//It's a perspective I've seen in a lot of people who've been beaten down and dealt with so much awful shit in their lives that kindness feels almost alien to them.

//I've seen a lot of real people make those same conclusions, and they often decide that someone being kind is either too stupid to realize what they think they know, or they have ulterior motives.

//And like I keep saying, Despair Time is telling us that this perspective is wrong.

//Teruko's trust issues have only isolated her more and more from the others, and left her with far less information to work with than she would've had if she cooperated. Ace's antagonism and constant fights lead to him nearly getting killed. Arei actually did patch things up with Eden, and how that turned out...well, we can't really say for sure yet.

//It perplexes me how people have mostly latched onto the darkness and misery, and assume that this is some nihilistic misanthropic edgefest simply because the protagonist is the one who has to learn how to trust others. Or that David exists.

//Eden, meanwhile, is the person in the cast who best represents kindness and optimism, and instead of it being a two-dimensional platitude, it's her personal decision to be kind even though she knows how dark the world can be.

//I say all this as someone who has dealt with depression and anxiety for well over a decade at this point: Eden is absolutely right. Bottling up your emotions, withdrawing from others, and only thinking about yourself is a recipe for extremely unhealthy behavior.

//And approaching this from a writing perspective, if this were the grimdark story so many seem to think it is, characters like Eden usually die in the beginning to firmly establish the tone. They don't get scenes like this.

//Now, obviously I have no idea where the story is going to go from here, but I highly doubt that putting so much emphasis on Eden here is meant to signify that this is somehow going to prove Teruko right. On the contrary, I'm still certain this chapter will prove Teruko's decision not to trust anyone is far more dangerous and unhealthy.

//Either people didn't actually pay attention to what was happening or being said in the game itself, or they think that, because a character is kind, that somehow means they're going to be evil.

//I honestly think Eden is the least likely to be the culprit in this chapter. You can quote me on that and throw it in my face if I turn out to be wrong, but I'm sticking to it from here on out.

[heliads]

Hello <3 i love your writing and your stories, I was wondering if I could make a request for Newt from Maze runner? My idea is that Newt and Reader don't exactly get along, for some reason they are always having some lighthearted discussions and disagreements, but deep down they care about each other, however they do think that one hates the other. Until one day they get stuck together alone for some reason and share a moment, Newt asks why she hates him and she doesn't really know how to answer, and maybe Newt kisses her or something, but she pushes him away because of the surprise. Newt gets sad, like really, because he thought that deep down she didn't actually hated him... Until she comes to make things right and comforts him <3

hrmmm

masterlist

Newt is thinking again. Thinking about her.

This isn’t nearly as rare an occurrence as he would like; although Newt is kept busy day and day out, practically wearing his feet down to the bone from all the times he has to keep racing across the Glade to sort out yet another problem, he somehow always finds the space of mind to keep one person in his head, and one person only:  Y/N.

He shouldn’t be as hopeless as he is. If you face the facts, and Newt would like to clarify that he does try to do that as often as possible, despite all evidence to the contrary, there should be nothing special about his relationship with Y/N. In fact, there isn’t much of a relationship at all. They are both in the same Glade together, yes, both bound by those same desolate stone walls, but they have nothing more in common. 

They don’t talk much, they don’t even do much more than that same awkward half-wave across the grassy fields whenever they have to see each other. By all accounts, Newt should think of her as rarely as he does Aidan or Carl or any of the other boys who have faded into obscurity in the back of Newt’s mind as soon as a few months passed after their arrival to the Glade.

This, however, is not the case. Despite the fact that they almost never spend time together, despite the fact that Y/N seems to be perfectly fine treating Newt as if he were yet another grass or stone to be ignored, he cannot return the favor. Every bone in Newt’s body seems to be attuned to her, and he could sooner forget about the Maze itself than go a day without turning her name over and over in his mind.

It’s not a healthy habit to have, and Newt knows it. If he were smart, he would stop with this infatuation, and either actually talk to her for once or drop the matter entirely. It would be the easiest thing in the world to just end this pointless addiction. Despite the forced proximity of the Glade, Newt has done it countless times with other friends who’d once been like brothers to him and are now nothing more than has-beens, past memories of inside jokes that have long since been forgotten.

He could leave her be, or so he claims. In truth, Newt knows that there’s no way that he could ever really let go of Y/N so quickly. The problem, of course, is that he’s not in this alone. Y/N exists outside of his conscious control, and in all of her free will, she’s decided to hate him.

That’s the worst part of this, Newt decides. It would be one thing if she were merely apathetic towards him and Newt could force himself to realize that it was all in his head, but no. He doesn’t know quite how to put a finger on the matter, but Y/N definitely doesn’t like him. 

When she first arrived at the Glade, Newt would keep coming up to her with a question or a favor to ask or something, anything, but every time she would turn him away. All he would ever get from her was a cold shoulder or a few muttered words’ worth of a functional response. She gave him the bare minimum time after time, and eventually he stopped trying at all.

Now, they regard each other across the expanse of Newt’s known life, all of their interactions hemmed in by the walls of the Maze. Y/N is no longer quite so harsh as she’d been in the beginning, but they’re definitely not friends.

In truth, Newt doesn’t know if it would be better or worse if they were more than this stilted silence. He doesn’t know why he had to go and fall in love with her of all people, the one Glader here who actively hates him, but it’s not like he can do anything about it now. Still, perhaps the crush would hurt even worse if they were closer. Would a forced closeness make his heart ache a duller tune than it does now, or would it turn his bruised feelings into a new sort of death?

In the end, Newt supposes that he’ll never know. All he has is this world, the one in which Y/N barely tolerates him on good days, and it’s not like he can do anything to change that. This has been Newt’s core tenet throughout his entire existence in the Glade, after all. No matter what happens, you grin and bear it. There’s no point in imagining a better, brighter life for yourself, all that does is make your current situation seem even worse than before.

So, Newt buries his feelings yet again, and decides to distract himself with Gally and Dan, two Builders who are trying their hand at finishing yet another new project. Newt isn’t sure why, but the guys seem convinced that what the Glade needs most is a jail. Sure, in the months that boys started appearing within the confines of the Walls there have been a few fights, but surely building an actual penitentiary is a waste of their resources.

Alby, however, seems to think they need it, so the Builders are hard at work. Alby’s been tougher on all of them, especially because in a couple weeks they’ll reach the six months mark of the first boy’s arrival in the Glade. The reality that it may take a long time to escape from this godless Maze, if they ever do, is weighing heavily on everyone, and Alby is no exception.

Thus, when Alby asks Newt to help out with the production of the jail cells, Newt obliges without a single complaint. The last thing Alby needs is someone arguing with him, not when tensions are already so high.

That being said, Newt would much rather supervise the building than actively participate. However, Gally seems to have an eye for when people are suffering, and he asks Newt if he can jump down into the rudimentary cell and see how strong the bars are. Hypothetically, the plan for the so-called Slammer is a concrete cell half-buried in the ground, with an intricate web of bars locking the exit out. Gally needs to make sure the cell won’t be escaped easily, so he’s volunteered Newt to be his jailbreak test subject. Fantastic.

Newt lets himself down into the concrete cube, then squints up at Gally and Dan through the bars. He flashes the two Builders a thumbs up, and they start to lay the mass of tied bars in place. Distantly, Newt wonders how Gally is able to construct a jail so well. Perhaps he’s spent some time in a holding cell of his own before all of this. Newt could definitely picture the guy in cartoon classic handcuffs, after committing some no doubt terrible crime. Maybe murder.

Newt certainly wants to murder Gally after the sun starts to scorch him due to so much time spent standing still. He feels like an ant trapped beneath a giant magnifying glass, and he retreats to the edges of the cell so the shadows can save him from cooking quite so much.

His terrible mood only worsens when Gally calls for someone else to jump down on the opposite side so they can have multiple points of view. Of course, just his luck, Newt’s fellow prisoner is Y/N. They’re sure to have marvelous conversations about how much they can’t stand each other, even if it’s only true for one of them.

At last, Gally takes a step back and looks upon his work with satisfaction. “Alright, you shanks can come out now. I think we’re done here. Seems solid enough to me.”

Newt reaches up to shake the bars. “In case you forgot, Gally, you’re going to have to let us out. You locked us in here, remember?”

Gally’s face flushes a disturbing purple and he sets forward to undo the lock. Newt watches as the Builder’s hand casually reaches for his front pocket so he can get the key, but the fingers come up clutching nothing but air.

“Everything alright?” Newt asks, trying not to sound too alarmed. “You do have the key, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Gally blusters, but despite rummaging around in his pockets for a while longer he still comes up with nothing.

Eventually, the guy has to admit that he must have misplaced it. Newt fights the urge to groan with irritation. It would be just like Gally to leave him in here for a while, wouldn’t it?

“Sit tight,” Gally orders, “I’ll get one of the Builders to make us a new key. Hey, this is just extra proof that the cell works, right?”

He disappears before Newt can do something tempting, like launch a chunk of concrete at the other boy’s head. Newt watches him go, then slowly turns around to face the other occupant of the cell with the air of a gladiator watching a lion approach him, paws and jowls bloody. He forgot about that part in all the kerfuffle, but he’s still locked in a very small cell with Y/N, someone who pretty much wants him dead. This day just keeps getting better and better.

“Well,” he tries for a smile, “Looks like we’ll be in here for a while.”

Y/N nods slowly. “He’d better find that key fast, or I’m going to have some words with him.”

Her expression is so severe that Newt finds himself chuckling. “Sorry,” he apologizes immediately, “It’s just, well, I don’t know that Gally has ever really responded well to words. They kind of fly right over his head.”

To his surprise, she cracks a smile. “Well, it’s either my words or one of Frypan’s knives, and I think Alby would like it better if I didn’t immediately land myself back in this cell for attempted murder.”

Newt shakes his head solemnly. “He wouldn’t have to know. I wouldn’t rat you out, we’d be conspirators.”

Y/N smiles at that. “Sounds good to me. I’ll make the kill, you hide the body?”

“I’ll bury him in the Track-Hoe plots,” Newt ventures, “None of them do enough work to ever find him.”

“Better yet,” Y/N counters, “Throw him down the Box Hole. That way we can act surprised if his body ever returns.”

Newt grimaces. “I don’t like how easily you came up with that. Have you been plotting Gally’s death for a while now?”

Y/N laughs. “Who hasn’t?”

She’s got him there, and Newt admits as much. He lets himself really treasure this moment, the two of them smiling in the golden sunlight. Truth be told, Newt never thought he’d be able to have such a simple and pure moment with her. For once, Y/N isn’t trying to avoid him or anything like that, they’re just enjoying each other’s company. It’s so easy to do that Newt wonders why they’ve never been able to manage it before.

The words tumble out of him before Newt can stop himself. “Why do you hate me?”

Y/N stares at him, evidently bewildered by the sudden change in conversation. Newt hurries to explain himself, or perhaps just dig himself into an even deeper hole.

“I mean, we’ve never really talked like this. I tried a few months ago, but you’d always walk away or reject me. No one else has such a strong reaction to me, but you do. Why?”

Y/N swallows hard, then looks away. “I don’t know,” she says softly, but Newt gets the feeling that isn’t quite true.

He walks closer to her, forcing her to look at him. “Really,” he says, “I just want to know. I want to know what I can do to have days like this happen more often.”

Newt’s eyes flicker to her lips before he knows what he’s doing. Y/N realizes it too, but instead of backing away, she leans infinitesimally closer. It’s all his perilous heart needs to convince him to close the distance between them and kiss her.

She jerks away immediately, and Newt could throw himself into the Box Hole in his anger. What was he thinking? They were barely talking, and he thinks he gets the right to kiss her.

“I’m really sorry,” he begins, but Y/N starts talking over him.

“Wait–it’s not–” 

She takes a deep breath to try and control herself, but in the meantime Newt’s mind is racing at a thousand thoughts a second. Some part of him hadn’t truly believed she hated him, but even if she was feeling neutrally about him before, she’ll really hate him now. Why would he kiss her? Sure, Newt has been wanting to do such a thing for a long time, but he’d never slip up like this. What is it about these close quarters, the lack of prying eyes, that makes him want her and nothing else?

Y/N has started talking again, but Newt barely hears the first few sentences. He starts to calm down after a while longer, though. Something about listening to her makes his breathing slow, his temper even.

“It’s not what you think, Newt,” she says, “I don’t hate you. I never have.”

Newt laughs sardonically. “Well, you have a fine way of showing it.”

Y/N sighs. “I know, and you have every right to be mad at me. I haven’t been mad at you, Newt, I’ve been afraid. Afraid that if I talked to you half as much as I wanted to, or let myself smile with you like this, you would realize it.”

Newt’s breathing is shallow. “Realize what?”

Her voice is quiet, barely audible above the hum of insects in the air around the cell. “That I loved you.”

Newt feels as if the floor beneath his feet has opened up, letting him spiral into empty air. He’s falling, flying, but the only thing keeping him from fully committing to a plunge through the sky is Y/N’s eyes, still locked on his.

“You love me?” He asks, scarcely daring to believe his own words.

She nods once. “It wasn’t hard to fall at first. Everyone likes you, Newt, even if you haven’t realized it. You make people feel important. I knew from the second I saw you that you would wreck my life if I let you. The only problem is that the Glade isn’t somewhere you can lose yourself, so I had to keep my distance so I wouldn’t fall completely into pieces. I never wanted you to think I hated you, I just wanted to do everything I could from losing myself over you.”

Newt stays still even after she finishes speaking, just trying to make all of the pieces of the picture line up again. It finally makes sense, all of it. Her distance, his feelings, how none of them ever went without reciprocation. All along, they’ve both been in love, yet neither of them realized it until now.

Newt reaches his hand up, gently tracing the curve of her cheek. “Does that mean I can kiss you again?”

She blesses him with a quiet smile and a nod. This time, it’s perfect. The sun heats her skin to a blissful fire, gently sparking against his lips until he feels everything and nothing, all at once. Newt would gladly stay there forever, were it not for the fact that he can hear the Builders approaching a few paces away.

Newt grumbles against her lips. “Of course they pick now to actually be productive.”

Y/N laughs, and kisses him one last time before pulling away. “Well, I’m not entirely sure that’s their fault.”

She pulls something out of her pocket with a wink, and Newt sees a brief shine of metal before she tucks it away again.

“Is that the key to the cell?” He asks, stunned.

Y/N grins. “I needed a chance to talk to you, something where I knew for certain that none of your friends would be watching. I couldn’t exactly leave that up to chance, could I?”

Gally is looming overhead now, flinging open the bars with a flourish. Y/N stands up as if nothing could be the matter at all, and Newt watches her with stunned awe. She pulls herself out of the cell, then reaches a hand back down to him.

“Well?” She asks through a smile, “Aren’t you coming?”

At this moment, Newt realizes that he’s in terrible trouble. It’s not good to think that he might follow her anywhere, through any danger, but he would. He’s well and truly lost on her. For once, it doesn’t seem like such a bad thing.

tmr tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42, @hiya-its-amber, @gods-fools-heroes

[babbiweeb]

my pet-muzan kibutsuji

(anime in gif:garden of words)

tw:themes of manipulation/possessiveness, mentions of murder/blood, human trafficking/prostitution, wedlock

initial tags:pre-established reader background, muzan kibutsuji, female reader, demon slayer:kimetsu no yaiba, human/demon muzan

genre:angst, hurt-no-comfort, almost lovers (it’s really kinda like a what could've been moment)

story playlist:

romantic homicide-d4vd

…baby one more time-the marias

i put a spell on you-annie lennox

evergreen-omar apollo

step on me-the cardigans

authors note:i shamelessly will admit muzan has had such a chokehold on me since s1, swordsmith village just amplified my awakening. i can fix him. proofread? but not really because i go crosseyed :) okiee, talk to you later!

 -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

A man who lurks along shadows, whose name ignites fear, once upon a time had a glimpse of normalcy.

A man who has roamed the Earth for nearly a thousand years has shamelessly tormented the weak, watching them twitch for mercy. His utmost pleasure is taken from such a tease. He is ruthless, vile, disgusting-

Yet, he wasn't always this twisted. Close to a millennium ago, a woman had finally been blessed with the next heir to uphold such prominence. A son is what was needed to continue the strength and leadership of the Kibutsuji name. However, his birth was complicated. Considered to be stillborn, he was doomed from the start. 

Muzan, while alive, regarded as nothing but a mere burden–an illness took hold of his frail body. An illness deemed to be terminal, it would be a sheer miracle if he had lived past the age of 20. 

His family had grown desperate. Desperate to find a cure for their only son. Doctors, researchers, and skeptics all came pouring into the young man's life. He was viewed as a sort of spectacle. His illness brought awe to the eyes of those wanting to further their own knowledge of the human body. The Heian Era was cruel to those with severe ailments. However, if you came from money and high status, you were regarded as top priority. 

It seems history truly never ceases to repeat itself-

__

Heian Period-Year 900

__

The drag of ropes slid past the crowd. Some cruelly stepped on the rope, making the line of women trip on themselves. Whispers of shame falling from the breath of bystanders. It never seems to ease up for the poor. People are incredibly quick to judge, yet will always be the first in line to ask for more. The pleasure of the unknown passion behind closed doors takes over the minds of the depraved, the curious, the sick-

A woman dragging her feet slowly begins to feel dread as they approach a back alley. She is an unfortunate soul, born into the world without a chance of survival. Given away to be sold off in an auction, she is young and the perfect selection to be someone’s pet. Her mother was given a handsome price for someone she deemed a burden. Quiet and timid, she keeps to herself. Alone with her thoughts, she tries to think of better days. 

Standing close to those by her side, she keeps her head low, attempting to lessen the attention drawing near. Crowds of men begin to gather around in secret, the sun being the only thing that illuminates the sin of man. 

One by one, each woman called down to turn around slowly for each buyer. Disgust fills her to the brim as she begins to wander off. Though, with just her eyes. Suddenly, she is rushed, her arm being tugged and gripped tightly as a man clouded by smoke demands her to twirl. Sounds of hushed whimpers escape from her. 

The smell of nicotine and whispers of depravity further shifting her demeanor to one of pure agony. Wanting nothing more than to be saved. Her eyes trail slightly, looking amongst the crowd. Just then, she catches the attention of a certain man and woman. The pair dressed like royalty. She had never seen anyone like them around these parts. Her face is full of awe as her eyes slowly begin to plead for their help. Nothing compelled her to do so, she just felt as if they understood her. Perhaps it was just a simple trick? Her mind constantly full of ideas of being free had finally led her to a state of delusion. 

But maybe…just maybe, fate has another plan. One that will grant her just a temporary moment of blissful freedom. 

__

Y/N-

“So this is where you will be staying. It isn't much, a humble space…but I do believe you will be most comfortable.”-The voice of a woman echoes as I keep close to my body. The rope on my wrists still reminds me of what could've been. 

Humble? Not much? People of status have no true grasp of reality. The room is bigger than anything I’ve ever seen! Entering cautiously, I look to the walls. No cracks, chips, or mold. 

How refreshing-

The futon made, not a single crease in sight. Is this really for me?

“Oh, do not worry! We will get you cleaned and changed before we further discuss your duty! Everything you will need is just in that closet-take your time and please come find me once you’ve finished!”-Her voice is doll-like. Calm, soft, not a single hint of worry or stress. The pale woman approaches as she begins to gently untie the ropes. My freedom solidified as my wrists finally loosen.

The initial shock I felt after they claimed me was overwhelming. I never would have expected such an outcome. However, I will be forever grateful to them-I will fulfill my duty.

“Thank you, Lady Kibutsuji.”

Soon, she excuses herself, sliding the door shut. My senses overstimulate my entire being. My ears catching the sound of the door shutting first as I now have this chance to relish in my new found privacy. The air lifted as I stood alone-and for the first time in a long time, I could breathe. 

__

After taking a well deserved moment of rest, I turned to the closet that remained open. Lightly colored and patterned garments neatly folded as my admiration bubbles to the surface. While not silk, the fabric is similar in texture. Nonetheless, I begin to undress my frame. Pieces of my run down clothing shedding off my body. The dirty linen now to the floor, soon to be forgotten. 

The layers hug my body bringing a sense of comfort as I add more and more to my final look. The pattern of faint and simple blossoms compliment the neutral colors of beige and cream. The frills of my apron added dimension and texture. 

Looking into the compact mirror provided, my hair is lifted by my delicate hands. A pin and clip keeping my loose strains together as they threaten to fall.

“Almost ready-”

My thoughts are interrupted as the sound of a man grows loud. A man and a woman can be heard through the walls. The woman sounds like-

Quickly, I leave my bedroom, sliding open the door, never stopping to close it shut. My legs carry me down the long, naturally lit hall as the voices grow loud and louder-

“I do not need some lousy caretaker-this is an unnecessary purchase that will just go to waste.”-The voice of a man unfamiliar to me settles within me as his words begin to make me wonder. 

“This is necessary, your body is growing weaker by the day. Your father insists on leaving you be. I only agreed to such terms if we got you someone to stay here with you. You need constant supervision. I will not lose my son any sooner-”

Her voice is cracking, a certain emotion of fear and uncertainty. It seems my duty is clear. Rounding the corner, I enter the large gathering room. My presence was recognized within an instant. 

“See? And here she is. And look, what a vision she is-”

Lady Kibutsuji steps closer to me as I keep my eyes forward. The compliment phases me slightly. I’m not used to such words being directed towards me. A vision? Is that really what I am? 

“An ordinary woman of low status is a vision to you? No wonder you were so eager to marry father. Your taste is horrid mother.”

A vision? Clearly not. 

Nonetheless, I will foresee my duty complete. Turning to face the young and clearly frail man, I bow my head slightly. My respect for their family name is growing within me. 

“My name is Y/N, no last name given. It is a pleasure to meet you, I look forward to being of use to you.”-The facade of confidence slowly breaks as I confess my lack of title. No last name, no status. 

“She is born of wedlock? How wonderful mother. I’m sure your sickly son being paired with this failure won't bring any further shame to our name.”

Raising my head slowly, I keep low. 

Well isn't he a peach? 

“I will not tolerate this disrespect. I still raised you to be a man. Now start acting like it.”-The lady of the Estate is completely unamused and serious. It seems her words shot an arrow through his heart. He looked at me for a brief moment before turning to walk back to where we all had entered. His balance is nonexistent as he holds onto every object nearby. His breath is heavy as it seems as if he is stepping on knives with each step. Taking a chance, I walked towards him, my arm extended in a careful manner. Not wanting to hurt him further, my voice sweet like honey.

“Sir, allow me to help you…” 

His scoff is audible and telling. He is unamused by my gesture, as if he’s in any position to deny aid. 

“Do not touch me. As for formality, I am Lord Muzan to you. Leave me be maid.”-His venom spat as chills sent down my spine. Without looking back to me, he struggles along as he attempts to carry some authority. My arms find their place once more as I watch him leave. Soon enough, it’s just me and Lady Kibutsuji. 

“Please forgive me. The lack of parenting shows within my son. However-She pauses to walk by my side. Her hand on my shoulder, her touch desperate-give him time. He is in fact ill. While this is not an excuse, he is growing impatient as the days drag on.”

“My only son was born with an illness that is soon to claim his life. His father has given up entirely…”-Another quick pause before she continues almost breathlessly. 

“All my hope is placed within you to help aid my son. I am unsure of what will become of him within the next year, but please, if it isn't too much to ask-take good care of Muzan.”-Her eyes are full with a familiar look of desperation. The same look I had worn for the better half of my young adult life. 

Pity. That is what comes to mind. Looking at her hand on my shoulder, a simple nod is all she needs from me to know that I am determined to help him. While this has already proved to be a difficult task, he still is just human. 

__

Evening rolls quickly with the pair hesitantly leaving such a beautiful Estate. Lady Kibutsuji had placed her dreams within a young woman who has no prior life experience. To take care of a man who is as stubborn as an ox will be no easy task. However, the overwhelming sense of gratitude shadows over all doubt. She is determined to change his cold heart. Surely, he has one? 

With hands tangled together at her front, she tours the halls. A traditional home, mute with any sense of familial love. Soon, the moon rises to catch the serenity of a peaceful garden. Her eyes follow the glow dancing through the beauty of nature. 

This is more than she ever expected–in fact, she feels almost unworthy. She is unaware of  when they will return, if at all.

“Lord Muzan? Are you…alright?”-Approaching slowly, she maintains a steady pace. Her nerves almost ate her alive as his figure grew. The sigh released from him telling her all she needs to know.

“Who gave you the idea to interrupt my peace? You’ve already become a nuisance and you haven't even been here a full day.”-His words slicing through her confidence, breaking her down further into a hole. 

“L-Lord Muzan, as it stands, I am your aid until I am told otherwise by your mother. So please, I would appreciate even the slightest bit of respect.”

Within an instant, his body stands tall as he turns to face the young woman. The look of the woman to the untrained eye may seem unphased, but deep down he can sense her fear. 

“Respect is earned, not that you would have any semblance of how real people act in proper society-”

As if someone had been watching his utter disrespect, his tongue is cut short as he coughs uncontrollably. The sight is horrid. It’s as if he is close to coughing up his own lung. Though, she is still a nurturing woman–the innate intuition to care is apparent. She is aware of her own tragedy, however, the thought of those having it worse off than her fuels her to remain kind. His body folds as his knees fall to the gravel-

“Lord Muzan-I’ve got you.”

Her arms wrap around him, pulling him up to lean slightly against her body. His coughing rage slows as he attempts to hide the embarrassing fit. Upon instinct, her gentle hand rubs his back, reassuring him that he isn't alone–that he would never be alone again. 

“I may not be someone you respect as a real person. But, I have kept something that you should re-learn. Kindness.”

His vision is slightly blurred as he becomes lightheaded, but she is still clear. He couldn't remain headstrong and upset even if he wanted to. She is correct–though his pride still refuses to falter. However, just this once he will accept her aid. The night will blanket over this slight misstep. 

“What an incessant woman…”

__

Muzan-

“Good morning Lord Muzan. A doctor has arrived, he is waiting for you in the back hall.”

Right. She’s staying. My persistent mother, adamant I am in constant need of supervision. While I don’t entirely blame the woman–no, I do blame the woman. How is it I had lost the race without ever even kicking off? To be born with such status, all to go to waste. They’ve both given up, and blamed me through the process. When it was my mother who failed to nurture a proper son. A cursed womb that would have benefited the world by staying utterly barren. 

An obvious disdain for this annoyance falls from my lips. My fingers trace the spine of what was soon to be my escape. A book meant to further expand my knowledge of medical advances–perhaps later. 

“Very well. Tell him I will meet with him soon. Be gone-”

The sound of her footsteps begin to fade. Never once did I turn to look at her, why should I? She is nothing more than a lowly woman. Unless she holds the cure to this cold heart, she will be of no use to me. 

“See? And here she is. And look, what a vision she is-” 

Vision? As if that means anything to me.

__

“What will become of me if I don’t take this?”-The very sight of such a pathetic doctor brings up an ever growing anger within me. He speaks of postponing my inevitable demise. Time. All time has granted me is a constant reminder of my own misery. Forever trapped in my own flesh that betrays me. I am denied the basic pleasures of life. A cruel world indeed. 

Reluctantly, I take the medicine provided, and soon enough he disappears. Where does he travel to? This doctor has been utterly mysterious. He speaks of an experimental elixir that he had been preparing and giving me in small quantities. Yet, I feel no change. Our family's wealth consistently proves to be wasted. 

Speaking of which– 

__

Y/N-

My smile brightens the man’s gloomy demeanor as I say goodbye to him. The doctor states that he shall return within a week, as well as leaving a brief reminder that he feels confident in Lord Muzan’s treatment. 

Wanting to remain by his side, I quickly make my way to the kitchen and prepare a simple snack. Fruits I pricked fresh in the small garden out back–

A small library found in the home seems to be his most favored spot, and with this knowledge my legs lead me there. I can feel it. Butterflies slowly creep up as my anxiety continues to rise. He’s unpredictable, that much I can confidently say. His attitude is one of a spoiled child. He makes it difficult to remain calm. But, for the sake of the Kibutsuji name, I shall try. 

Rounding the corner of the lifted structure, beams of sunlight bring life to such a mute home. An open concept allows the beauty of nature to come and go as it pleases. 

“Lord Muzan? May I enter?”-My hands at the sides of the tray begin to shake slightly. Curse these weak nerves. 

My eyes found him immediately. He sits along a chaise, pillows behind him bringing him clear comfort. His hair is long, dark, and slightly textured. He is the picture perfect definition of ethereal beauty. For a man of his status and undeniable charm, it would be incredibly simple to find his match. If not for his illness, he would be able to experience what many crave to cherish. 

His eyes meet mine for the very first time–oh what heavy eyes.

“What do you want?”-That harsh tone yet again, although, something seems to be different. His breath skipped, even just a little. Almost as if he was caught off guard by my presence? Pushing my thoughts to the side, I walk towards him cautiously, stopping right by his lounge. Placing the tray on the small table beside him, I smile softly. 

“I brought you something small. You never requested breakfast, nor did I see you pass the kitchen. You must be hungry, Lord Muzan.”

His eyes trail to the tray full of small eats, his finger book marking his book as he leans forward. 

“Very well. Dismissed.”

My head tilts just slightly as I keep my hands to my front. My fingers laced together as I gave myself a quick squeeze of reassurance. Turning only to find an open seat not too far from him, I stationed myself close. My bottom sunk comfortably as I keep myself low. 

“Uh, what do you think you’re doing? I said you are dismissed.”-His voice gains my attention as I look back at him. My face now hot, flushes red. 

“Lord Muzan, with all due respect, I plan to stay nearby at all times. This was a request given by your mother.”

As if I had just described a lewd, and unholy act of offense, he looks at me with widened eyes. His eyebrow twitches slightly–a quirk perhaps? 

“That will not be necessary. My privacy is important to me, so I insist you leave.”-Kicking his feet back up and reopening his book, he attempts to escape back into his own world. A small smirk forms as I continue right behind his words.

“And I insist you need my constant supervision. You are sickly Lord Muzan-”

The hint of spite lingers as my words stick. The air grows thick–his eyes now back on me as he sits still. 

“You dare give lip woman?”-The word “woman” rolls off his tongue as if he had casted a hex. What is it about me that represents a thorn in his back? Clicking my own tongue, my eyes keep direct watch. 

“A woman is not a woman without lip. Can’t you handle the taste of your own medicine My Lord?”

The sting in Muzan’s heart almost ignites a fire, brought on by her wit. He feels as if he’s caught in her web. A spark that he had never felt before. He wouldn't admit it out loud, however, his subconscious enjoys her game. 

An audible scoff heard from the man laying across from me rings through my ears. My sly smirk hidden from him as his gaze watches my eyes. My anxiety at the beginning had diminished, this new confidence was found and fueled by the need to destroy this man’s ego. 

“You must make excellent company, your husband must be over the moon to have such a woman by his side-”

A brief pause allows me to feel the small crack inching down my heart. A shameless low blow that speaks volumes. His darts speak for my loneliness. 

“No matter. If you choose to stay, be sure to remain quiet. That pretty voice should be saved for your caring husband.”-His voice, malicious and cocky. Is it his goal to drag those around him down? Does he derive pleasure from pain? 

His attention back to his book, an obvious smirk runs along his lips-

“At least I have a shot at love-”

__

Muzan-

I win. 

Quiet. Just as it should be while in my presence–if only my repeated thoughts of finally being cured would leave me be. This doctor seems rather enthusiastic about his research. He hasn't shared much with me, leaving my thoughts to run rampant. It’s troublesome really. 

Turning the page with my delicately fragile fingers, I catch a quick glimpse of her. My eyes almost instinctively traced her lips. She’s completely distracted by the walls lined with shelves. If something were to happen to me now, surely she wouldn't even realize the second I hit the floor.

“You know you read books, not gawk at them.” 

The look on her face reads something of a nervous delight. Her eyes light up as she pays me no mind. She’s seemingly interested in reading��though quickly, her demeanor shatters. She’s hesitant, that much is clear. 

“I-I understand that much. I just…I can’t read much Lord Muzan”-She does nothing to hide such an embarrassing confession. Is this the truth? She truly doesn't know how to read? How preposterous! 

“What? How is it you can not read? Women are allowed that much.”-I scoff. 

“Forgive my ignorance, Lord Muzan. I was not blessed to live sheltered like you. No one gave me the time of day.”-Her voice trails as her attention focuses slowly back to me. Her gaze followed my every facial expression, my every word. 

Sheltered? Me? My blood boils as I feel a sense of anger slowly wash over me. I hold my tongue as I look at her. All my life, I had no choice but to be this way. Doomed from the start…but her? She had the chance to change. Or at least…that’s what I would do. For just a moment, I catch her eyes, trap them with mine. Holding my gaze, she softens entirely, encapsulating the definition of grace and poise. The anger felt just seconds prior diminishes with one simple look. With her look. Her eyes almost plead with mine, silently begging me to hold my words. After a few seconds more, I finally break contact–my head shaking side to side. 

Reluctantly, I begin-”Go choose a book that sparks an interest.”

Without hesitation, she gets up from her spot and immediately starts to look through the many pieces of literature. It’s as if she had forgotten about our little battle of wit. The exchange proved to be entertaining to me, it proved to her how headstrong and cocky I truly can be. Yet, she seems to be completely carefree, only focused on my request. Obedient. Even if just for herself. 

Soon, she pulls a small and skinny hard cover. I know exactly the one–

“Give it here-”

Once more, without a sense of faltering, she makes her way to me. Her nervousness is transparent, as if she’s terrified of my bite. I drop my legs slowly from the long soft cushion, gently planting my feet to the floor. 

“I-I can make out some words here. This isn’t entirely foreign to me thankfully.”-With sheer grace, she drops to my side, sitting close enough to feel our warmth collide. This is comforting. 

“Well, start where you can…”-In a hushed tone, I continue quietly. “I can help you when I can. Only when I’m not busy with my own book.”

I had to reassure her, right? All for her to understand that I won't be there at all times to hold her hand. This is simply a small favor that I chose to offer in hopes this pitiful woman can learn something. To be early into adulthood, and not know how to read full text? How shameful. 

She snaps to turn and face me, her eyes wide and full of surprise. She really is transparent. Her words almost fail her until I pick up on a faint-

“Thank you.”

Returning to my world, I hide myself slightly within the pages. 

“What a naive woman…”

__

They continued on within a surprisingly comfortable silence, though she still feels uneasy. She doesn't want to be a bother to him, regardless of his harsh outer shell. He catches her unsteady demeanor, jealous of how simple she is. His eyes follow her finger as she traces the thin pages, meanwhile his heart begins to soften. A new, strange feeling that has made itself known subtly. 

Each pronunciation of these foreign words lifts from the pages and rolls of her tongue gently. A cautious, timid soul. Shifting slightly, he takes hold of her book, grazing her soft skin along the way. This was done almost on purpose, just as an excuse to feel some semblance of intimacy. But to admit this would prove to be weak. 

Shocked and shy, she turns her gaze up towards him. Only him. Her attention is direct and eager as her innocent eyes fill with the willingness to learn. The pleasant twist that forms just below the hearts of two entirely different souls now becomes hard to ignore. An unexpected warmth that proves weakness to one, and to the other–

A fondness that wraps her within a desirable warmth. 

__

“T-Thank you Lord Muzan…for teaching me.”-Her voice echos with pure gratitude. Never once had she been blessed with kindness that went beyond a simple “how are you?”. 

Tch–”It’s nothing. I pity those who can’t help themselves. So consider this your push to do better woman.”-His feet raised once more unto the chaise. His body utterly melts into the cushion–completely devoid of his remark. 

“How can you be so sure of yourself that people less than you haven't tried all they can to be better?”-The sheer amount of wit almost catches him off guard. For someone so disadvantaged, she sure does have an enchanting mind. Something he has come to pleasantly enjoy. 

Her question tantalizes him. How can he be sure? Simple. He can’t. This mindset stems from pure arrogance. The faith he has in humanity had diminished years ago. He cares not for those around him, why should he? The illness had taken over and ripped away the innocence, warping him into something close to a line of monstrosity. 

“Lord Muzan, if I may, my heart breaks for you.”

With that, the young woman excuses herself from him. The eerie silence sets as he is left. Yet another reminder that he is truly alone. 

__

Muzan-

Waiting patiently, time moves slowly as I go blank. Her heart breaks for…me? What could she mean by such a thing? Why does her heart supposedly break for me? I never asked for such a thing, nor would I. I do not need the pity of some sorry excuse of a woman. 

My chest rises up and down at a quickened pace, my breath becoming heavy as my anxiety levels. Looking up to the awning, the edge of traditional wood had always brought comfort. The clean cut edges of such beauty begin to blur. My eyes feel as if they are crossing–I need help. I need her, now. My throat closed as I attempted to call out to her. Her name fading from me as soon enough, I succumbed to the darkness. 

If there is a god, he would allow me this final sweet release. 

__

Coming to, my body regains each of my senses one by one. My body laid flat upon a made futon. The bedding is thick, granting me a sense of security. Slowly, my fingers twitch against the warmth. My ears had perked at the sound of draining water, little droplets reaching my exposed skin. 

“I know you’re awake, you can open your eyes now”-Reluctantly, I open my eyes. The dim light of candles gives my eyes relief. Blinking just a few times, the blurred vision subsides as I am met with a face all too familiar. The moon hung low, casting a soft and silver glow over her. Her gentle hands hard at work as they tighten, wringing out water from a small cloth into a small bowl. 

“How are you feeling?”-The lack of formality rings through as she speaks. Her eyes focused on me. My mouth is dry, as is my throat. My words fail me, so I simply nod my head, keeping my watchful eye on her. 

Wringing out the water one last time, she neatly folds the small cloth and places the damp piece on my forehead. The cool sensation immediately alleviated my aching lobe. This small gesture is enough to strain my gaze. Closing my eyes for just a moment, her body shifts–soon I’m being lifted gently. The rim of porcelain reaches my mouth as liquid flows down. 

“I contacted an emergency doctor by letter. He took quite a while reaching back to us with any form of information. I was afraid I had lost you for good.”

My orbs reopened and immediately found hers. Desperately drinking what I can, my eyebrows furrow into confusion. Why would she be afraid? Wouldn't this grant her access away from me? Isn’t this something she would want? To be free? 

“Your primary doctor won't arrive until early next week, until then, you are to take it easy and rest well. The stress may be getting to you, so do not strain yourself further. Allow me to do my job and help you.”-The cries of pleas are no longer hidden. It seems I have inched my way closer to her more than she would ever admit. Why?

Finding my voice, I begin-

“I-I see…very well. I must ask, w-what made you think about coming back?”

“I never meant to leave you for long. I simply needed a break. I felt our conversation would lead nowhere and that it would be best for us both if I had excused myself.”-As she leans back slightly, I am granted a full view of her body. Her frame utterly breathtaking under the faint aglow of candlelight and rays of silver. Her face softened with worry and concern. 

“When I came back, you were on the floor, sprawled out and holding your own throat. The sight was horrific. All I thought to do was get you to your room quickly and reopen your airway. You leaned against me limp as I walked you back to your bedroom. The rest became history, you are up now and that’s what matters.”

My eyes widened as she continued her retelling of events. She did this for me, without a hint of hesitation. A strong willed woman indeed. 

“I see. Well, I suppose I should…express my gratitude, or something?”-Keeping my gaze on her, I am able to catch a sly smile that formed upon her plump lips. Not quite a smirk, and not quite malicious. 

“Lord Muzan, are you trying to say…thank you?”-Her voice lingers as a giggle leaves her.

Embarrassed, my face grows warm once again-

“Don't push it Y/N. You did your job successfully. That’s all there is to it”

And there it is. That wonderfully wicked smirk she wears so well. With one final look of admiration, I close my eyes, hiding my sudden new found gratitude. The sound of her leaving my side followed by a hushed snicker warms my cheeks. As she blows out my candles, right before leaving, I whisper–

“Thank you Y/N.”

“You’re welcome, Lord Muzan.”-After a pregnant pause, the brief silence is interrupted by her final words and the sliding of my door. I hate to admit it, but the warmth in my cheeks could not distract me from the fact that for the first time in forever, a smile had grown. 

“What a cheeky woman.”

__

Y/N-

“What do you mean still not ready? You pathetic excuse of a doctor-”

Lord Muzan’s voice echoes through the halls of the estate. He is angry. Very angry. Last night's events run through my mind–the brief glimpse of potential kindness shattered now as my body trembles. My hands grip the soft fabric that drapes to my side. Sitting just outside the screen, I am a victim to the wraith of his abusive nature. 

“I no longer have time. My body grows weak by each passing day. I can barely walk, let alone sit without my limbs going utterly stiff. This elixir is a joke, much like your practice.”

An elixir? Yes, that’s correct! The doctor had mentioned such a remedy during his last visit. He appeared confident in his research, however, said confidence proves to be less than dirt to him. From my understanding, Lord Muzan had been taking this experimental medicine for weeks–

“I’ve taken your stupid drug–now get out! Out of my sight before I lose my temper completely!”-This wasn't him at his peak? There is more hidden to his anger? Surely not. 

Footsteps come and go as the sound passes by me. Distracted and dazed, my body lifts itself all on its own. 

“Lord Muzan, if I may enter.”-The unsteady hum in my voice gives me away completely as I turn from the screen to look at him. Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead and down his sculpted face. Even in such a state, my eyes could never fool me–

His breath is heavy and unhinged. The anger that exudes from him is palpable, like a rabid beast. He is capable of so much more, that much is clear to me now. Regardless of my fear, I approach cautiously, my delicate hand reaching out for him. Soon, the cloth in hand collects his essence. His heat would be almost intoxicating if the circumstances were different. 

Without looking up at me, his mouth moves-

“What have you Y/N? Do you think I’m worth my salt? Why is it that I live such a pitiful life?”-His voice almost begs me for some kind of reassurance, low whimpers falling from his lips. His fist to his own chest, clutching the fabrics of his simple yukata. 

“Lord Muzan, the cards were never set up in your favor, that much is true. However, you are alive today despite it all. There is still a chance while you still breathe.”

He doesn't believe me. An audible scoff and expression of defeat is more than enough to leave a lingering sting to my heart. The same heart that is too big for my own good–

In a moment of sheer weakness, I take hold of his hand, bringing him close to me. His palm firmly planted against my heartbeat. Shocked and curious, his eyes finally met mine. His mouth agape as if he truly wanted to scold me for such behavior, and yet–he welcomes the change.

“Your heart beat is just like mine. Your lungs inhale and exhale the air we share. Your senses all grant you the same sensations I feel. We are no different–your illness does not define you. Your illness only hinders you if you choose to let it drown your mind.”

The air grows thin as time seemingly slows, all we have is each other. We sit across from one another, his hand trembles ever so slightly against my chest as he looks into my eyes. His gaze turns into a stare as his shock continues to build. Left almost speechless, his low mutters become my only indication that he is still with me. 

“W-Why must you have faith in me? Why must you make this difficult?”

“Lord Muzan, everyone deserves a chance to better themselves. The only one stopping you from doing so, is you. If you want something, you make it your reality.”-The road to one's betterment is no easy task. No one gets it right the first time. Old habits resurface, anger prevails, people test you. But for him, his eyes shine with a newfound spark. An epiphany-

“You are…absolutely correct! I will make my desire a reality. My illness will not prevail.”-Surprisingly giddy with excitement, it isn't enough to hide something brewing. There’s a hint of something almost sickening behind his voice. However, as quickly as my body warned me, my naivety in turn diminished such a red flag. 

His hand travels down for a short detour. His fingers graze the slit in between my supple mounds. The tease of his gentle touch sent shivers down my spine. And within an instant, time had pressed on as it did before. No longer stuck in the moment with him–

__

Muzan-

What a woman-

How could I be so blind? She left me utterly speechless. Her caring nature brings me a sense of confidence I had never felt before. I feel as if I can do anything with her by my side. I must keep her close–

“Y/N! I thank you for such reassurance! Please, leave me for the time being! I have some matters to attend to! My thoughts must be sorted.”-Without another word, she follows my order. Excusing herself gracefully from my view. 

Slowly, a familiar curve creeps onto my lips. The excitement builds as an uncontrollable laugh fills my own ears. This is too easy. Too simple–

I will have all I want, this illness will no longer define my life. I am deserving of greatness, if not me? Then who? Who is worthy of such confidence, such power. 

It’s all coming together perfectly. Soon, I will become more than a mere weakling. No one shall ever ignore me again. 

__

Nightfall crept suddenly, as light had vanished from the world. Not a sound had left the chambers of Lord Muzan throughout the day. Worrisome, Y/N had done what she could in order to stay nearby without disturbing his work. She wondered about him, and his odd behavior. He changed so suddenly, his eagerness created an all too recognizable feeling of dread. She knew what this was, but she kept denying such doubts. Even the stars above couldn't calm her nerves. Though, the moon watches over her and her own prayers. The glow of silver shining down upon such an immaculate beauty. It was as if there had been an unannounced competition between the goddess of the moon and the maiden below. Her beauty was witnessed by more than just the serene sky. His presence is quiet as he walks down the garden steps and onto the stone path. While in pain, he chooses to ignore for the time being, wanting to just be close to her. 

“A beautiful night? Isn't it?”-My voice rings through her as she jumps out of her own skin. Startled, she brings a warmth to me as she reacts to my emergence. 

“L-Lord Muzan! You’re up!”-She attempts to sit up, but before long, I lift my hand up hinting that she remains seated. 

“Please, do not worry yourself with me tonight. All I ask from you is to join you for a bit of company.”-For the third time since we met, I smile. Each foreign move of my muscle is all due to her. 

“Y-Yes, of course Lord Muzan!”-She scoots to the edge of the small stone bench, giving me space to join her. With no time wasted, I sit next to her, already feeling our warmth dancing.The cool breeze flows as the trees and brush rustle alongside it. 

“I truly must thank you Y/N. A new found clarity fills my mind and soul. I feel alive-”

“I did nothing really! Although, I must say, you do seem rather lively. Perhaps the elixir-”

“That doctor had nothing to do with this. He is incompetent and will soon be discarded.”-Rudely and swiftly, I cut her off before she can mention such a quack. Our peace must not be disrupted by unnecessary noise. 

“R-Right, yes! My apologies! I just mean to say that you are much better.”-Her stutter never fades as I catch her nervousness. Her hands interwoven as they rested on her lap. 

“You’re quite alright Y/N! As I mentioned, he won’t be a problem soon enough.”-A wave of confidence helps fuel my boldness. Keeping my watchful gaze on her makes me grow impatient. Shifting my body towards her, I lean in closely–

“You are all I need to help aid this sickness-”

Whispers alluding to sweet nothings leave my mouth. Actions beat me to the punch as my hand trails her exposed skin. Starting from her wrist, my fingers trace up her arm. My nails grazed across her faint goosebumps.

“I was a fool to immediately discard you as just another woman. You are much more–aren't you Y/N?”

It was now her turn to grow speechless, though her body language speaks to me. Her skin so supple, so soft-

“You’ve proven to be someone worthy of my praise. You’ve proven to be of use to me. A delicate petal just begging to be plucked. You crave attention, don't you…my pet?”-The sounds of whimpers escape from her luscious lips. Desperate to feel more of such a rose, my fingers crawl behind her exposed neck. Her hair creates an opening of soft skin. Untouched, pure skin. Closing the space between us, her protests are nonexistent as I continue to conquer such a goddess. My breath is hot against her cold skin, licking my lips my eyes fill slowly with undeniable lust. 

“Tell me…”-A brief pause teases her ears as I whisper into her neck. My lips tugging along her sensitive skin-

“Do you wish to serve me? To aid me?”

My lips press together as I leave gentle, yet needy kisses along her neck. Her whimpers only grow as I tug at the hair locked in between my long, slender fingers.

“Answer me”

“Y-Yes”-Obedient. I expect nothing less. 

“Yes? You will? What…my pet?”-Full control is what I have, her body melting under my touch. Pulling her hair back gently, I give myself more to claim. Her scent is intoxicating as I save this sweetness to memory. Never to forget such delectable treat-

“I wish to serve you, Lord Muzan.”-The whisper of seduction. 

A primal instinct possesses my body as a part of her soul is given up to me so easily. My lips are sloppy and quick in bringing utter pleasure to us both. Completely undone, my lips meet hers, never once stopping to think of the consequences. The emotional vulnerability sent me down a spiral. Her soft moans pour into my mouth as her desire fills me to the brim. Our breath grows hot and heavy. The only break we give one another is that of whenever our lips switch positions. Neither of us wanted to give up the heated battle of pure passion. 

My hand that once held the back of her neck now meets her plump and warm cheek. The other slowly meets the other. Her body remains stiff as I caress her with the growing facade of something loving. 

My sweet, sweet pet. Oh how you’ve fallen. 

__

Y/N-

My body has awoken before even my mind. Tossing and turning under the covers of security, a beam of warm light tickles my face. The warmth triggers the events of last night to replay in my mind. His touch still stains my cheeks, forever tainting my memory. 

Morning light pours into my sensitive eyes as I slowly open them. A sigh of relief and complete embarrassment escapes my lips. The woman I became during the evening hours was that of shame. To indulge in the dance of sinful passion with someone meant to be taken care of is nothing less than degrading. 

And yet…here I am, tracing the lines of my lips. My fingers teasing the edges of my delicate skin. 

I liked it. 

__

The Estate eerily resembles that of a ghost town. Not that I am too keen on seeing him this morning, the shadow of worry still lingers. Calling out for him as I walk through each room, I still find no trace of his presence. Perhaps further in? 

“Lord Muzan? Are you awake–”

The smell of iron fills my nose, it’s faint but definitely still noticeable. Curious and against my better judgment, I keep my pace. The sound of wood panels creaking every now and again. Soon enough, the sound of wood falters and is now replaced with a squelching. Reluctantly, I look down at my feet, and to my horror-

Blood. Blood seeps through the floor, flowing from underneath the shoji. My breath caught in my throat as I refused to make a single sound. 

Cautiously, I reach for the screen, careful to not step in the ever growing puddle of fresh blood. Sliding through the screen, I come to bear witness to a man stabbed in the back laying motionless. As if all rational thought left me in an instant, my scream becomes loud, desperate, and fearful. 

My eyes widen at the sight of such gore. However, nothing could be compared to my pure terror as my eyes trail to meet his gaze. His stone cold gaze. He remained seated, unphased and unbothered by the scene. Working quickly, and piecing together the events that had transpired, I once again lose myself-

Dizzy and hazed, my disgust is no longer hidden. 

“You k-killed him…didn't you? This was your doing!”

My voice trembles as I look directly at him, waiting for the slightest bit of humanity to show. Please, tell me it isn't so, this couldn't be! My eyes sting as tears begin to form across my waterline. 

“Good. You’ve finally come to me-”

His voice was cold, more so than typical. This time, his voice sends pure chills to my body. I hold my own sides as I watch him get up without struggle, his walk towards me steady. As he reaches me, I grow stiff as his hand firmly grips my shoulder. He leans in swiftly and whispers into the shell of my ear. 

“Clean this up.”-Just as he came, he left without time wasted. The tears once threatened to pour, now stream down my face. The overwhelming stir of emotions breaking me down to a pathetic mess. 

I want nothing more than to be far, far away from him.

__

Streaks of blood that had stained the wood run across the floor. The smell of death never leaving her nose, forever ingrained in her memory. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't get the image of dragging his limp body out of her mind. The sound of his skin sliding against the wood will prove enough to haunt her dreams. No matter how many times she washes her body, she will never truly rid herself of the filth. Her mind, body, and soul forever tormented in her own personal prison. 

She needed to leave, to get away. But what good would that do? She could never be free, her fate solidified within these walls. All she has is the simple peace found within her own chambers. Sleep takes hold of the emotionally drained. 

Even so, her slumber was interrupted by the sudden sharp chill of a cool breeze. The night pours into her four walls–and what would usually bring her peace, this night instead brings in the dreaded unknown. The days prior of feeling an unsettling wave of uncertainty now haunts her. Always the naive woman to seemingly follow her heart before her own gut. And now look, he stalks her with watchful eyes. Plum red beads that stare into her soul, seeing more than he ever could. Her heartbeat accelerates due to the uneasy tension growing in the thick air. 

Nothing could ever stop him now. The confidence he felt by her side would never compare the pure power he feels coursing through his veins. The power to do as he pleases, whenever he pleases. The world is yet to see true torture, and he will begin his reign with her by his side. She has no choice.

“My pet…”

 -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

authors end note:wow wow wubzi. yeah i don't foresee myself sticking to a writing schedule. writing fics are hard, but then again, i really just do it to ease my brain rot and make my moots happi! so in turn, i happi! this one however, is going on the mAke A pArt TwO list. i’m so delulu. i want to pick this up with y/n becoming a demon by force and eventually running away with my second wife, lady tamayo (the goat). i am so down bad for so many kny characters bro. it’s impressive how many i can fit in my heart. anyways, as per usual, i hope you enjoyed the read! teehe! talk soon, k? :)

word count:8348

many thank! -babbi₊˚⊹♡

-08/18/23

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Thirty —  Infamous

“Well, sometimes if you have someone listen to something they haven’t heard before, they might notice something you didn’t.” Zeke patted the top of a sealed ammo case. “Gain a new perspective. I have a buncha dead drops I’m gonna have to listen to, and I need a conduit’s opinion.” 

5k words | 20 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: more goddamn lore and links (i love you guys but it's messy work /s), references to death, disease, catastrophe.

Zeke eventually came back as we finished organizing the papers, taking a moment to crack his neck before looking down at us. “Y’all look about done,” he commented. 

Brent nodded. “Nearly, but I don’t think there’s anything here that’ll help.”

I couldn’t help but agree. There was a ton on Celia taking out less-than-desirable people, and while I wasn’t sure yet how to feel about the death of those guys, I knew it wasn’t enough to lead us anywhere. 

“Yeah, that’s how it goes sometimes,” Zeke sighed, moving back into the kitchen. “But keep an eye out and an open mind — sometimes things connect in ways you weren’t expecting. Now, your pops is making a call, trying to connect with someone that might have some old info we passed to her years ago. I’m sure when he comes back he’ll go over everything y’all found and see if something stands out.”

I stood, grabbing the little empty mug of coffee and moving to the kitchen with the intention of getting some water, letting the stream run over my hand for a few seconds to take in that peaceful feeling that always came with draining. I screwed my eyes shut and tried to let the calm wash over the anxiety in my chest — and nearly screamed as it jump started my heart and sent it soaring when I opened my eyes to see Zeke standing inches away on my side, arms crossed. 

“You good?” He asked me. 

Other than nearly having a heart attack because he snuck up on me? “I’m…okay.” I answered. “Just worried. What if all of this is useless, you know?”

“We’re just covering our bases, kid.” He said heartedly. Cheerfully. Way too happily for it still being nine in the morning. “We find nothing here, we’ll just go lookin’ somewhere else. Now,” he raised his voice a bit so it would flow over to Brent, turning so he could regard us both in his sight. “If y’all are done with those files, I could use some fresh ears on some things I have.” 

Brent cocked his head a bit, glancing between Zeke and I. “What do you mean?”

“Well, sometimes if you have someone listen to something they haven’t heard before, they might notice something you didn’t.” Zeke patted the top of a sealed ammo case. “Gain a new perspective. I have a buncha dead drops I’m gonna have to listen to, and I need a conduit’s opinion.” 

“You want…our help?” I asked. 

“Why not?” Zeke shrugged. “Figured it’s the best crash course for y’all — you’ve gotta learn what really happened with the Beast and First Sons and all that, anyways. Figure it’d be better to have sources.” 

So we started helping set up Zeke’s desk, moving piles of papers and magazines Zeke threw his hand over and insisted were nothing to make room for this weird little device he seemed to pull out of thin air. “What’s that for?” Brent asked, somehow managing to hold a printer like it was a weightless purse. 

“This? Just a little doohickey I made to listen to the dead drops. It’s either this, or I hunt down equipment that’s older than y’all two — and I’m not usually lucky in bidding wars on eBay.” 

“You made this?” Brent balked. Excitement quickly overtook his eyes, and I knew he was about to demand to know everything about the gadget as he soaked in the ingenuity. He’d be an inventor if he had the patience to fail.

I let the two ramble on about technical words that escaped me as I finished cleaning off Zeke’s desk, grabbing the ammo case he had brought over and opening it. There was a dank smell that wasn’t at all pleasant, the dozens of little chips in it settling with the same sound LEGOs in a bin did. When there was a lull in conversation, I looked to Zeke, asking, “Why haven’t you uploaded these to a cloud or something? It would make storing them easier.” And it would smell less like swamp, too. 

Zeke, though, scoffed. “What, put them online where anyone could claim them? Where the government probably has a backdoor and could delete ‘em for good? Absolutely not.”

He turned to hook the device up to the computer, giving Brent the chance to look at me and shrug. 

Dad came into the room just as Zeke finished hooking up the device, and looked between the three of us. “I’m gonna go talk to Eugene, and then I’ll be back down here to help.” He glanced at the papers on the ground. “You guys organize everything?”

We both nodded. “There’s one pile of random stuff I couldn’t really link together, but yeah,” Brent added.

Dad hummed. His eyes breezed over the room but didn’t really seem to settle on any one thing. “Alright, I’ll be right back,”

He disappeared from the room as quickly as he came. 

“He seems distracted,” Brent muttered to me. 

“Hopefully in a good way,” I added. 

“Hopefully in a way that gets us more food. I’m starving.”

“You just ate!”

“Yeah — eggs.” Brent complained in a whisper. “You think that’s enough?"

I shot him a glare just before Zeke turned back around. “Alright, I think the thing’s set up. Pass me a chip, Jean?”

I nodded, grabbing one randomly and laying it in Zeke’s outstretched hand. “You’re sure this will work?”

“Well,” he popped his mouth as he inserted the chip and opened something on his computer. “It either works or explodes.”

“Explodes?”

“Yeah. So you two might wanna step back for a moment till we know which is which,”

Brent and I listened without another word, moving into the living room. I couldn’t help but notice how Brent stood in front of me, arm twitching like it was ready to grow a shield as Zeke finished pressing some buttons and breathed deeply before switching the machine on, flinching as he did so. 

No big boom came, though; there was a shrill trill of static, a sort of vibrating tone like it was calibrating, and then the most shocking noise — a British voice. 

“Audio report. Final.” The British voice says on the recording in between bursts of loud bangs. “The door won't hold them. I've done what I could to reverse the damage I've unleashed on the world. After Bertrand took control of the First Sons, I chose to stay on and I committed further acts of horror up under his twisted leadership. His resources allowed me to finish the RFI. That is all that matters. My God, I hope it works.” There’s another loud bang, loud enough to make me jump in place. “I hope it exceeds my wildest expectations and put an end to the Plague—”

There was this huge screeching sound as metal itself was broken, clinking against the floor.

“Forgive me Kuo,”  the voice rushes to say, “I wish I could've warned you—” 

It cut off as the sound of a chair scraping against the floor raked through the static, and then there were punches. That same British voice huffed out in pain until the recording became muffled and then forcefully turned off.

We both stayed silent as Zeke seemed triumphant with the success of the device. “Who was that?” Brent eventually asked, the first to shake off the stupor of what we just heard. 

“Sebastian Wolfe,” Zeke explains, turning his chair slightly so we were in his eyesight. “He was one of the head First Sons scientists.”

“He was trying to end the plague?” I asked. 

Zeke leaned back in his chair, biting on his tongue for a moment. “He…he was. Or, did,” He began. “That’s what the RFI was for,”

“What’s an RFI?” Brent asked. 

Zeke didn’t get to answer; Dad was coming back down the stairs, standing at the foot of them and leaning against the frame of the stairwell. “It’s what stopped the Beast.”

I cocked my head to the side, looking between Dad and Zeke. “I thought…I thought Cole defeated the Beast?”

“He did,” Zeke rushed to say. “He did. But it wasn’t like in the stories where David knocks down Goliath and wins. He had to make a hard choice.”

“The RFI purged ray field energy.” Dad took over. “Cleared it, and that included what was in the magnetic field at the time. Taking it away killed the Beast, but it’s also why almost every conduit died. None of us can survive without it.”

“So that’s….that’s what the mass death was?” I asked. “People said it was because of the Beast dying—”

Dad scoffed, sounding rather annoyed at the idea. “We aren’t minions to something bigger,” He said. “It’s not like we can’t survive without the Beast. Obviously we can — he’s gone. But think about it for a second; if the truth was told, and everyone knew there was a device to kill Conduits — you think there wouldn’t be certain people trying to use it?”

Brent and I glanced at each other; no, it was very likely there would be someone trying to remake the device. And I didn’t like that idea at all. 

“I’ve been hiding the notes on the RFI for years so that no one would have that sorta power,” Zeke said. “It didn’t work the first time — it just caused pain. I don’t want it to cause any more.”

My brow knit, and I realized something; the Beast happened in 2011. But Dad…Dad was older than that. “Dad?” I asked. He looked at me, raising an eyebrow in a silent prod to continue. “How did…how did you survive?”

Dad rubs the scruff on his chin. “Don’t know. None of us do.”

“Everyone’s been wondering since they started comin’ back,” Zeke said. “Or, when some didn’t die. It was supposed to work.”

“It was supposed to kill Conduits.” Brent said flatly beside me. “That sounds more like genocide than saving.”

Zeke looked over at Brent with a surprising fire in his eyes. “It would have killed either way. You know how many people would have died if Cole didn’t use the RFI? The plague wasn’t just killing regular humans, kid—anyone with the plague was dying. Conduits included.”

“Inactivated Conduits,” Dad corrected. “Which means I would have died, too, if I caught it.”

Brent had the foresight to at least look remorseful at the fact. “So if you weren’t activated or had the gene, you were just fucked?”

“Brent—”

“C’mon, Dad—”

Zeke interrupted. “Yep. No powers…no survival.”

That silenced the room. No powers, no survival. Cole was literally stuck having to choose between the needs of the many, or the needs of the few—there were even less Conduits then than there were now. Imagine killing off the entire population just to save, like, 7% of it. 

I couldn’t imagine how he felt making that choice, no matter how right it was. 

Zeke eventually sighed, saying, “Hand me another chip, please.”

I nodded, looking down at the case in my hand and picking one at random. Zeke took it from my outstretched hand and wiped down its surface with the hem of his shirt. He takes a deliberate amount of time hooking it up to the device, long enough that Dad leaves to look at the files Brent and I organized and Brent moves to sit back on the couch. 

There was another harsh burst of static before the audio of the next file came through. “Audio surveillance file X76,” that same British guy, Wolfe, said. “Meeting with John White and Lucy Kuo.”

“I wanted to, eh,” a really deep and really grainy voice came on the speaker, “Advise you of a recent incident. Kessler’s plan is unclear to me, so I’ll just stick to the facts: Kessler kidnapped MacGrath’s girlfriend, Trish, and dangled her off of a rooftop.”

“Holy shit,” Brent murmured as my hand came over my mouth. 

“He said MacGrath had time to save her. But there was another rooftop with six doctors about to die. MacGrath had to choose.”

Dad shook his head from his place on the floor. Cole had to choose between six innocent people and his girlfriend? That had to be horrible!

A feminine voice, clean and disgusted, simply said, “Sick!” while Wolfe responded with “Madness!” in his best impression of an aghast 1800s European settler. 

That grainy deep voice came back on. “He…tried to save his girlfriend. I dunno, maybe he was selfish, but…” he inhaled deep enough for the recording to catch it, “I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same.” Then he scoffed. “Kessler killed them all anyway.”

“Of course,” the feminine voice muttered. 

“Evidently he wanted to toughen up MacGrath before the Beast arrives.” The deep voice said. “And who knows — maybe he succeeded. MacGrath definitely seems tougher than I’ve ever seen him.”

The dead drop beeped, signaling its end and leaving us all with so many questions. 

“Who was Kessler?” I asked first before anyone else could speak. 

Zeke sighed, rubbing a hand over his eye like it was too early for a conversation like this. Maybe it was. “He was the leader of the First Sons.” Zeke started. “Took over the position from some guy he overthrew, I forget his name. Robert? I dunno. I know his son’s name was Alden Tate,” Zeke paused, turning his chair to face all of us. “Kessler wanted Cole to be the one to fight the Beast.”

“So he killed his girlfriend to get him to do it?” Brent asked, incredulous.

“It was about the choice,” Dad realized from the side. “Be selfish, or worry about the greater good.”

Zeke nodded. “And he picked the wrong answer. They all died.”

“How is saving your girlfriend the wrong answer?” Brent demanded. 

I ran a finger along the texture of my cast. “It isn’t exactly caring about the greater good…” I murmured. “The doctors probably…they would have been a lot more helpful in Empire City, if it was as bad as Zeke says.”

Brent glared at me. “So you’d sacrifice someone for that? If it was me or Dad or—”

“I didn’t say I would!” I shot back, rolling my eyes. Brent could be so short-sighted, it was annoying.

“Guys,” Dad said off on the side, glaring at us both pointedly. His eyes flicked over to Zeke, who looked like he was going through the five stages of grief as fast as he possibly could. 

“He was going to propose to Trish, later that year,” Zeke said, more to himself than anyone. “He wasn’t…he didn’t want to lose that. It had broken him.”

I think it would have broken anyone. 

“Was that the idea?” Dad asked Zeke. “Make him get used to making those hard choices?”

Zeke nodded. “Yeah. That’s what Kessler told him, anyway. He needed someone that would be able to make the decision, in the end. That could fight the Beast and have nothing to lose.”

“That’s messed up,” Brent uttered. “He basically groomed MacGrath.”

“Messed up ain’t even the half of it, kid.” Zeke said. He sighed hard, and then motioned silently for me to give him another dead drop. 

Wolfe’s voice crackled on. “Audio surveillance of Agent John White, file D102.”

That same deep voice was back, but crystal clear this time. That must be the guy, John White. “I was carrying the Ray Sphere out of the lab when Kessler stopped me. It was...it was strange. He said that I had an important destiny, that I'd accomplish great things.”

Wolfe hummed. “I used to be a skeptic, but many of his predictions actually do come true.”

The guy, John, hesitated to answer. “I don’t know…the way he looked at me? Made me want him to be wrong.”

The dead drop ended there, the most useless one so far. 

At least, I thought so. Dad, however, felt otherwise. “Who was John White?” He asked Zeke. 

Zeke hesitated. “He, uh…he was an NSA agent. Him and Kuo, they were both supposed to infiltrate the First Sons and get more information on them.”

Dad’s brow furrowed. “I thought…I thought that the government funded the First Sons?” 

Zeke threw his head side to side as he tried to figure out how to explain this to Dad. “Well, yes, but they didn’t know they were. The woman in charge of DARPA at the time had a deal with Kessler on the side. You know, under the table, ‘you scratch my back I’ll scratch yours’ sorta stuff. She knew of the First Sons because of their investigations, and then she found out about the Ray Sphere.”

Dad scoffed. “Hear about some magic eight ball that can give you powers, and of course you’ll be interested.”

“Exactly.”

“But why would Kessler think that this White guy was important?” Brent asked from the side. “What, could he see into the future or something?”

Zeke didn't answer that immediately. His eyes sorta traveled off like Dad’s always did when talking about his past, when he was reliving memories that left bad tastes in his mouth, and he inhaled deeply. “John helped us in Empire City, during the quarantine. He tracked down the Ray Sphere and him and Cole destroyed it.”

After a breath, Zeke added. “It also killed him. At least, we thought it did.”

A shadow seemed to come over Zeke’s face, and from where I was, I could see the grip he had on the arm of his chair tighten. “What happened?” I asked softly. 

Zeke’s next breath was a bit shuddered. “It activated him. John was the Beast.”

“Oh, shit.” Dad murmured. Brent was too shocked to throw in his own curse words. "So Kessler made the Beast,” Dad scoffed. “Glad to know the First Sons have been the root of every problem.”

“None of this makes sense,” Brent murmured, head in his hands. 

I couldn’t help but agree with Brent; my mind was reeling. Not only was there some group with science advanced enough to activate Conduits, but they managed to make the Beast. They created the creature that killed millions and practically turned the east coast into a wasteland. 

Zeke had us listen to more dead drops, explaining things along the way; Kuo was another agent tasked with collecting intel at the New Marais First Sons’ base, and Dr. Wolfe was recording these dead drops behind both her and John White’s backs to send to the NSA so they could make sure there was no backstabbing going on. Other recordings featured Joseph Bertrand III, the guy I knew from our history books as the Alt. Right businessman-turned-politician that people contributed with starting the ‘small government’ movement that led to his easy fascist takeover in New Marais. Apparently racist rhetoric and anti…well, anything he deemed sinful wasn’t enough, because he was the head of the First Sons’ New Marais base as well, in search of power. He took the First Sons’ assets the moment Kessler died and used everything to fund his fascist army, the Militia, passing Dr. Wolfe human test subjects to play with along the way. 

Those test subjects are what caught Dad’s attention, especially as Dr. Wolfe recorded himself speaking to one. 

“I paid a visit to the First Sons' dorms where the Vermaak men were housed.” Dr. Wolfe said into the mic. “Subject 881 approached me and we took a walk. The recording follows.”

“You seem…” the accented voice hesitated. “Agitated, Doctor.”

“I figured out what Bertrand has in store for you. He's going to use the Transfer Device, isn't he?” Dr. Wolfe demanded. 

881 sighed. “Sorry, you know I can't say.”

Wolfe wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Do you know who the Conduit is?” he demanded. 

“I just... can't comment on this.” 881 talked over him, and I could only imagine the head shake that came with it.

Dr. Wolfe switched to pleading, saying, “You need to know something. The transfer procedure was never designed to split abilities among multiple recipients. I don't know what it will do.”

“You…” 881 drew off, “Just got my attention.”

Dr. Wolfe continued, “Theoretically you'll all be ‘over-clocked,’ so to speak. You'll receive a portion of the true Conduit's power but your body will wear itself out trying to sustain it! You may go insane.”

There was a pause, and then the Vermaak soldier asked, “Why are you telling me this, Doctor? Bertrand, he wouldn't like it.”

Dr. Wolfe sighs hard. “I'm not a brave man, but if I'm right and you and your men lose control, then I'll have far more to fear from you than Bertrand.”

“Did he…” Dad asked the moment the dead drop beeped, signaling its end. “Did he say the Vermaak?” 

“Yep.” Zeke swiveled in his chair to face Dad. “Bertrand took out a contract with this private military group and used those guys to make Conduit soldiers. He planned to sell ‘em overseas.”

“I know that name.” Dad hums. “Vermaak 88. They were like some version of green berets from Africa, I think. Reggie worked with them on his tour in Iraq. They were…pretty ruthless, from what he told me when he came back.” 

“Yeah, that’s why Bertrand hired them originally — for protection,” Zeke hummed, already digging in the ammo crate for another chip he deemed worthy enough to listen to. “At least, that’s what everyone thought. Turns out, he was being paid under the table to make superhuman soldiers for a buncha war lords.”

“So he was hired, not the other way around?” I asked, Zeke nodding in response.

“Yep. Only guy in the world that had a power transfer device before Brookie and her government funding walked into the picture.” Zeke held up a chip, examining it close. “One on one, the transfer worked damn near flawlessly. Cole only was out for about four minutes when he did it—”

“Woah, wait,” Brent hummed, holding out a hand to pause Zeke’s tangent. “Cole was a forced Conduit?” 

Zeke let the hand holding up the chip fall, chuckling a bit. “No, no — well, if you don’t count the Ray Sphere as forced. Jury’s still out on that one. But Cole had gotten another power from someone. Kuo, actually.”

Dad’s head tilted slightly. “You mean…he had more than one power?” he asked, eyes betraying how much the statement confused him. I couldn’t blame him; there wasn’t any other Conduit I knew that had more than one power. Anyone but him.

Zeke seemed to realize this as well, saying, “Yeah — he wasn’t as strong in the other power as his electricity, but he could use both on a whim. Sometimes even combined the two, that was always cool to see.”

Dad’s confusion grew, and something else played in his eyes: betrayal, maybe? “He could use both at the same time?” Dad asked, almost disbelieving. 

Zeke nodded. “Yep. Sorta together, more than anything. Like he needed some of his electricity to work the power.”

Brent’s brow furrowed. “That’s nothing like how you do it,” he muttered, looking at the floor before glancing up at Dad.

Dad’s eyes were now off of Zeke and facing the wall, boring a hole into the wood as he chewed on his cheek. “It’s not.” He agreed, seeming to hate the fact that he did. He glared at the grain a bit longer, like the patterns would shift and give him the answers to his unasked questions, before slightly shaking his head, refocusing on Zeke. “He used a power transfer device for that? Like the one Augustine had?”

Zeke nodded. “Well, similar. Couldn’t tell you what the old one was like, considering it blew up before anyone else got a chance to play with it. I wasn’t even there when Cole hooked himself up to it.”

“So he was the only one to use it?” I asked before Dad could. 

“Well, him and the Vermaak.” Zeke replied, bringing up the corner of his shirt to try and polish the dead drop chip in his hand. “You heard Dr. Wolfe — Bertrand had him use the device on multiple people at once. Dunno how, and they all escaped before we could find out more. So we were stuck not only fighting the Militia, but a bunch of half-sane ice soldiers while trying to prepare for the Beast—”

Everyone’s heads snapped around to look at Zeke so fast that he nearly dropped the ammo crate in surprise. “Ice soldiers?” we managed to chorus, only half a beat off from each other. 

“Y–yeah?” Zeke stuttered, looking between the three of us. “They were transferred ice powers from Kuo, after she was activated. Cole too.”

Brent and I both glanced at each other before looking at Dad, who was staring at Zeke with a blank face before it cracked. His hands came up to press into his eyes. “Fuck,” he said, beginning to pace, “Fuck!”

Zeke was absolutely bewildered. “What, uh…why does that matter?”

I sighed hard on the side. “I was frozen by ice soldiers, in the fight with Augustine.”

“Oh, shit,”

“You know,” Brent deadpanned, leaning back on the loveseat. “Seems like everything comes back to the First Sons,”

“Always does,” Zeke huffs. 

Dad was still pacing, arms crossed now. “Bertrand was in charge here,” he muttered, a hand coming up to rub his face. He lifted his head, raising his voice slightly. “The ice soldiers were here. We’ve got to find their old base, maybe there’s something we could find that connects them to Archangel—”

“Delsin, this was some twenty-odd years ago,” Zeke said. “There’s a very small chance there’ll be anything left, between the military and any sorta urban explorers.”

“And they didn’t know what we do now,” Dad snipped. “There’s got to be something that can help us” He stopped, spinning in place to face Zeke. “Do you know where it is?”

Zeke hesitated. “I…I don’t. At least, I don’t remember. But one of these dead drops gotta have something that’ll help us,”

So we were stuck listening to more: of John White, telling the others how six blocks in Empire City were blown to bits when it was activated; of Bertrand, convinced he was doing something to honor God by gathering prisoners to test his own Ray Sphere on. 

There was a crackle, and then that same British voice again, far less panicked this time. “Audio surveillance of Agent Kuo, file G27,” he said.

 “I got my hands on an Echelon phone transcript the day Kessler detonated the Ray Sphere. He requested a very specific bike courier for the job.” She began. 

“Do you mean Cole MacGrath?” Dr. Wolfe asked. Brent’s head snapped around to look towards Zeke and his speakers now.

“There’s more,” The woman, Kuo, says. “I–I may have found some important new insight on Kessler, but I can't make it out. Kessler knew Cole MacGrath had the conduit gene, that's pretty clear, but I can't find his name in the First Sons database.”

“So…” Wolfe hesitated, “How did Kessler know Cole MacGrath had the gene?”

“Exactly.”

“Do you think they’re related?” Wolfe almost immediately asks after.

Kuo hesitates on the tape. “Huh…you know, I can try to find that out.”

The tape immediately goes dead, as if it was edited to the end of that exact statement. Dad was looking up from a file in his hand to where Zeke was, asking. “So who exactly was Kuo in all of this?”

“NSA Agent Lucy Kuo,” Zeke said, spinning his chair to face Dad. “She found us in Empire City and told Cole she had a way to make him powerful enough to fight the Beast.”

“And she was the ice conduit?”

“Yep.”

Brent was up himself now, having too much pent up energy. He was matching Dad’s steps earlier, pacing around the room. “How did he get more powerful to fight the Beast?”

“Blast cores,” Zeke says simply.

“Did the NSA know she was a conduit?” Dad interrupted before Brent could ask what the hell a Blast core was.

Zeke shakes his head. “Just that she had the gene. Bertrand’s the one that activated her, actually.”

I raised a hand like I was in class; this conversation was cool and all, but none of it was related to the very big piece of information in the dead drop we just heard. “Wait,” I started. “So — Kessler; he was in charge of the First Sons, right?” Zeke nods. “Okay, but then…how did he know Cole was a Conduit?”

Zeke had put on his glasses at some point, trying to mark each chip with a little code to signify what was on it. Now, though, he took them off, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “If I told ya, you wouldn’t believe me.” He said. 

What kind of an answer was that? 

Dad seemed just as perplexed. “What do you mean? We need to know everything we can if we’re going to figure this out—”

The stairs creaked, and Dr. Sims came down into the room, sighing hard. “Decoding that journal is gonna be harder than I thought,” he started, looking at Dad. “But I did get the emails,”

He said that last bit with that tone of voice Dad would use when he told us he got a message from our teacher when we were bad at school: We need to talk about it. 

“Kessler was a piece of shit, who knew too much for his own good,” Zeke responded, completely ignoring Dr. Sims’ intrusion. “It would be easier if we just left it at that.”

“But why choose Cole?” Brent asked, bewildered. “I mean — no offense to, you know, your old friend — but he was just an electricity Conduit. Why not pick someone stronger to fight against the Beast? Like Dad?” 

Dad ignored Brent’s praise to glare disapprovingly at Zeke. “You can’t hide something valuable like this,” he protested. “It could be exactly what we need to figure out what the hell is going on.” 

Zeke opened his mouth to respond when Dr. Sims interrupted. “Zeke,” he called gently. “They need to know.”

The argument in Zeke’s chest died on the tip of his tongue, and he made a weird noise as he deflated. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he chewed on his tongue, seemingly debating how to start this. Whatever he was going to say looked like it stressed him out to even think of. 

And I definitely wasn’t prepared for what came out of his mouth next. 

“Kessler was Cole. He traveled back in time after the Beast destroyed the world to try and stop it from happening.”