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heartcereql · 2 years ago

Text

shades of cool

୨୧ young!coriolanus snow x f!reader ୨୧ IN WICH Coriolanus is the person you've grown to hate and compete against. But when you and him have to work together to achieve what you want, the tables start to turn. (6.2k+ words) ୨୧ cw: cursing, a LOT of tension (yall r going to hate me for the cockblocking), probably ooc snow (acting like he's a sweetheart and not a psycho lollll), like one mention of blood?

a/n: snow lands on top (of me pls)

There were only two things that you completely and utterly despised: breaking your favorite nail and the voice of Coriolanus Snow.

"Y/n!"

You made no sign whatsoever to acknowledge the man following your across the crowd of burgundy uniforms. You just clutched your books tighter and quickened your pace.

"Hey, Y/n- wait up!" he called again.

Sighing, you stopped in your tracks and turned around to see a platinum blond running in your direction. The usual shit-eating grin plastered on his face. You put on your best effort to suppress the eye roll that was begging to be released.

"Yes?" you asked, unamused.

"I was just wondering- you seemed kind of distracted in class today." His words were sugary, almost enough to trick anyone into thinking he was truly concerned. But not you though. You had learn to identify the glint in his eyes from a mile away. "Well, just in cas you missed this-"

Before you knew it, you had an A+ graded exam shoved in your face. Making a face of disgust, you scrambled away to look at his face, expression filled with pride.

"That's great, Coriolanus, real great. Would be even greater if I had asked", you scowled, turning away while Coriolanus scoffed behind you, quickly catching up with you again as you resumed your way out.

"Oh, c'mon, Y/n! You're not the only one who's allowed to brag", he said, nudging your side.

"Clearly not. You do it all the time", you deadpanned.

"Don't be mad 'cause you weren't able to beat me. Again."

The smell of roses was too stuck in your nostrils for your liking. Sweet and inviting, but remembering who it came from made the flowers lose all their charm.

"Also, exercise three's answer was option D," he pointed out, that annoying smirk on his face again.

"What?"

"It was option D, not A."

"How did you even- Nevermind. Option A is the literal definition, care to explain how it is option D?" you argued, rolling your eyes.

"I- A's not the definition!" Coriolanus tried to rebute.

"It is. Try paying attention for once."

"It's not!" He stopped fully, leaning against a wall and opening his bag.

"What are you doing?" you raised a brow at his franctic search. Sometimes you forgot how infuriating he was.

"I'm looking for the textbook," he replied, face almost buried in his bag.

"Unbelievable," you scoffed, turning around. "You really are unfixable, Snow."

Walking away from the mess of papers he had made around him, you could hear him protest.

"Hey, don't go! I'm finding the page!"

You shook your head. The exasperation in his voice was like music to your ears.

You knew who you wanted to be from a very young age. You knew exactly what you wanted and what you had to do to achieve it. You wanted everything.

Top of your class since you were five. Student of the month every month. Class president. Winning every single award that could be won by a child under twelve years old.

You wanted to take everything from a life that had given you nothing. Like a phoenix, your mother used to say, risen from the ashes to burn in the most blazing fire. With little to no resources, your family had incredibly made it work so that they could afford a small apartment in the Capitol (if you dared call the cubicle that your family shared a house). But your family had made it. And so had you, child prodigy, wanting to rescue your poor parents and sister. Specially when your mom's frequent coughing developed into something far more serious.

You were unstoppable. Nothing in your way. Praise. Applause. Recognition. It was all in the back of your hand.

Until Coriolanus Snow appeared.

He and you were basically the same. Same drive for power, same desire to rescue your family, same overachiever character, same flawless grades. One would think you would get along, being so impossibly similar.

And perhaps you could have. You could've befriended him and helped each other. If he had not equalled you with such aptitude. Before you knew it, Y/n Y/l/n was never mentioned without Coriolanus Snow. You were no longer the only student to pass with distinction. You weren't the only clear winner, or the only candidate for class president, or weren't so easily distincted class president, for Coriolanus was your vicepresident (something that had never been a thing, that appeared as suddenly as him).

But he was fighting you for your spot. Naturally, you didn't even consider him as a potential friend. He was an obstacle in your way, as you were in his. Soon, you two were always engaged in bantering, cruel comments, trying to bring the other down by showing off your accomplishments and grades and awards and titles.

It was more than safe to say that you and Corolanius held special hatred for each other.

And then came the Plintz Prize. Both of you wanted it with equal burning ache, and gave your very best since the first day. Obviously, you weren't the only students who were interested in winning the prize, but you were the ones ready to sacrifice everything, the ones to always make the most of an opportunity, even if it was minimal.

You were so deeply convinced that you were nothing like the other.

But neither of you was willing to let anything come in your way.

"A new financial aid is going to be gifted."

The words echoed in the room as students hushedly commented, whispered to one another.

"Students will submit a proposal, individually or in pairs. A suggestion with your own design of the Hunger Games. You'll go into detail about every little thing, so that in the end, Dr Gaul will select the project she fancies more to be the winner and receive the financial aid."

You and Coriolanus shared a look from opposite sides of the room.

The prize is mine.

As per usual, you were determined to go for everything. You needed to nail this. That very same afternoon you were sat in front of your desk, scribbling down what was supposed to be the first draft to your proposal project. You'd noted some ideas, but they didn't seem to make sense altogether.

Groaning for the umpteenth time, you got up from the spot you'd been occuppying for the last two hours. Your home was no inspiration, which was why you gathered all your scattered pages and notes and made your way to the Academy's library.

There was a spot you liked there. Your spot, though only you referred to it as that, of course. A comfy chair with a green cushion on the end of a large oak table, between the shelves of Geometry books and medicine articles. Golden rays of sunlight filtered through the large window on spring afternoons, and even in the bleak winter it felt nice to look through it.

Making your way over to your spot, you could almost feel the comfort of the chair, how your thoughts would clear and start to make sense. Eyes half closed anticipating the delight. But you opened them only to find a familiar (and annoying) blond sitting in your corner.

"Move" you said as you finished your way over to him.

"What? No. I'm working. Thinking", Coriolanus answered, unbothered, without looking up from his notes and papers, some scrambled, some with big ink stains.

"I don't care. It's my spot. Move.”

He raised his head to look up at you and stopped writing.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise this chair had your name engraved on it,” he pettily remarked.

“Whatever,” you exhaled, plopping down on the seat next to him. “You are such a pain in the ass, you know.”

“Back at you,” he replied, eyes focused on his papers again.

You huffed and reached inside your bag to grab your notes.

Your messily written ideas were mocking you, at this point. If you thought they didn’t make much sense at home, they definitely weren’t making any now. You had so much in mind. And they were great ideas, really. But you couldn’t find a way to connect them, for them to make sense altogether. And you were missing something. Something so essential, something that you couldn’t quite place.

How will the games be watched if they’re held in the middle of a desert? Where will the cameras be?

You scrunched your paper, groaning again and dropping your head to the table.

"Something wrong?"

You lifter your head to find Coriolanus looking at you, carding a hand through his hair.

"None of your business."

"Jesus, chill out Y/n. I was just asking if you were okay.." he spoke, not in his usual bratty tone; he sounded just worried.

Your eyes widened a bit with a mix between embarrassment and shyness.

"I'm just... stressed. I'm stuck on the whole proposal thing, it just won't make any sense. I feel like it's missing something, but I just can't know what," you told him, rubbing your temples.

Coriolanus let out a breathy chuckle, to which you looked at him disbelief.

"I knew you were cruel, but laughing at my miserable state is just-"

"I'm not laughing. I'm relieved," he explained. You looked for any signs of mockery, but his eyes were truthful and soft.

"Relieved?" you frowned.

"Yeah. I-I thought I was the only one having a kind of block," he looked down to his notes and that was when you noticed the messy paragraphs the crossed ideas, the lines and arrows that tried to connect everything.

You gave Coriolanus a tight-lipped smile. He was right. It was somewhat relieving to know that your only real threat was having a hard time like you were.

"Hey, I've got an idea."

His voice pulled you out of your thoughts. Oh hell no. No idea Coriolanus could want to share with you would turn out great.

"Shoot"

"I think we should partner up for the project," he bluntly said.

"Pardon?" you asked raising your brows. You really thought that you hadn't heard him correctly.

"Yeah, I mean, think about it. We both have a lot of ideas but feel something missing. We-we could help each other out!" Coriolanus clarified, somewhat flustered. "We'd win the prize and split it. Highbottom said the proposal could be submitted by pairs. If we do this together, we'll be unstoppable."

You blinked twice, digesting his words like you couldn't believe they were real.

"I think that's the worst idea I've ever heard."

Coriolanus scoffed. "Right, because you're so well known for your good ideas."

True. Though being a straight A's, perfect student, you had a certain fire inside you that had given you a reckless and flaming reputation.

"I'm in."

You were back in the library the next day, only this time you were sitting in your spot, and Coriolanus was besides you. You had been sitting in silence for the past fifteen minutes, reading the other's anotations and doodles.

When you finished, you leaned back into you seat, stretching your neck and pushing loose strands of hair behind your ears.

"So?" Coriolanus inquired when he noticed you were done. "What do you think?"

"I'm... surprised," you told him, chin resting on your hand as you looked at him. "It's almost identical to mine."

He chuckled. "Yeah, that's what I was noticing. I guess great minds think alike, right?"

"Could be, or you just copied me," you said. Coriolanus sneered and you saw the complains forming behind his lips, so you were quick to clarify. "I was joking, Snow. It seems we're not so different."

"Or you just copied me" he mocked, using your words from earlier.

"You wish," you smile, scoffing in a playful manner.

"Hey, what was it that you were unhappy with about your ideas? Because I think they're pretty great," Coriolanus asked, handing your notes back to you.

"They don't make sense to me. I couldn't come up with a way to connect it all," you shrugged. "Maybe we shouldn't use all of this, I don't know."

The entire day was spent between countless bickering and snacks, you and Coriolanus discussing the project and how insufferable the other was, shielded by the brimful shelves and the hushed conversations between students.

Over the next few days, your begrudging meetings with Coriolanus continued, each session marked by a mixture of tension and reluctant cooperation. The library became your unofficial battleground, the hallowed halls witnessing the clash of two strong-willed minds.

As you both settled into your usual spot once again, there was a palpable air of wariness. However, you couldn't help but notice a subtle change in Coriolanus. He seemed more open to discussion, his usually stoic facade occasionally cracking to reveal a hint of vulnerability. The topics ranged from the project at hand to personal interests, and amidst the disagreements, you discovered shared preferences and surprisingly similar perspectives.

By the first week, a sort of unspoken truce had settled between you. The bickering had mellowed into a more civilized exchange of ideas. Coriolanus, despite his initial resistance, began to respect your opinions and even admitted to finding some merit in your perspectives. You, in turn, acknowledged the sharp intellect beneath his icy exterior. Shared laughter became more frequent, often catching both of you off guard.

Throughout these encounters, the library transformed from a battlefield to a space of reluctant collaboration. Despite the lingering differences, a strange sense of partnership emerged. The once insufferable project discussions turned into an exploration of each other's intellect, and with each passing day, the library witnessed the evolution of an unexpected connection between two seemingly incompatible souls.

Your bag hit the leg of the table as you slipped in your chair, the blond taking the seat next to you. A soft thud was heard, along with something rolling. You were going to duck down to reach it, but Coriolanus was already grabbing it.

"Hey, are these yours?" Coriolanus asked, holding a bottle of pills.

Your eyes widened. Your mom's medicines. You reached inside your bag to check if the bottle you had picked up from the chemist's before school was still there. It wasn't.

"Yeah. Well- my mom's."

He handed the bottle to you, whcih you were quick to put back in your bag.

"Is she okay? Not like it's any of my business, but those pills are like one of the strongest shits ever," he frowned.

Taking a deep breath, you explained, "She's not. She hasn't been for quite a while. And the doctors don't say much, but it isn't looking good."

"I- um, I'm sorry," he stammered, looking down. "If you or her ever need anything, you know you can talk to me, right?"

You nodded, leg bouncing up and down.

"Here," he said, scribbling down something on a ripped piece of paper. "My address. If you ever need it."

"Thank you," you looked into his eyes, words barely a whisper. "I really appreciate it."

His knee bumped yours, like soothing it down, keeping it steady. "Anytime," he smiled.

You gave him an awkward smile, looking away.

The green folder, clutched tightly in your arms, contained the first draft of yours and Coriolanus' design for the Hunger Games. You both were going to introduce it to Dean Highbottom, since you needed to inform him of who formed your team and some other information. Then, he would grant the two of you an interview with Dr. Gaul.

Once, Coriolanus had referred to the folder as 'your baby'. You had given him a blank stare for a second before the two of you broke down in laughter.

Mindlessly turning around a corner, you bumped into someone's shoulder. A pair of arms caught your own, steadying you, keeping you from falling.

"Whoa, sorry-"

The folder. You quickly stepped back, freeing the folder from being crushed any further. Compulsively checking if the folder was okay, you failed to identify the pair of arms that had held you seconds before.

It was okay. Your baby was okay.

"So sorry, I- Coriolanus?" you asked as you finally lifted your gaze. "I thought you were coming by later?"

"Couldn't wait. I was actually looking for you. I just saw Dean Highbottom enter his office. Campus is pretty deserted, so I'd say we could be the first ones."

A soft smile graced his face.

"Shall we then?" you posed the courtsy question playfully.

"We shall"

The two of you made your way to the Dean's office, gushing about the project like two schoolgirls. Grades and rivalry were not brought up once. Perhaps just because you wanted the day to be perfect.

After knocking on Dean Highbottom's door and hearing a 'come in', Coriolanus opened the door and both of you came in.

"Look who it is! Snow and Y/l/n. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes", the Dean greeted you.

Coriolanus and you shared a glance before giving the Dean a polite smile.

"Are you here about the project?"

"We are," you answered, gesturing to the green folder in your hands.

"As in the two of you are submitting the proposal together?" the bearded man asked, raising his eyebrows. When Coriolanus nodded, he let out a chuckle. "I thought I wouldn't live to see the day."

You offered an awkward smile as you and the blond sat in the seats before the Dean's desk. You silently handed him your folder. After opening it and browsing through the various concepts and sketches, Dean Highbottom closed the folder, tapping his figertips against it.

Nervousness gnawed your insides, your leg bouncing up and down in anxiety. You hadn't even noticed this, too caught up into thinking the absolute worst of the situation; until you felt a knee- his knee- press into yours. Suddenly very aware of what was happening outside your mind, you blinked once, as to come back into reality, and then again, swifting your eyes to Coriolanus besides you.

For a moment, just a moment, you saw only a pair of eyes that guaranteed comfort peering into yours, crowned by the softests of golden curls. And then you saw the snarky comments, the whole usurping-your-place scheme, the perfect grades and the annoyingly pitched voice. The smile froze on your lips. Fuck.

"So," the Dean's voice broke the silence. "Are you two dating yet? Because it would really benefit you"

Both your head and his snapped into the Dean's direction.

"Pardon?!"

"What?"

Two pairs of eyes now looked wide and with a mix of disbelief and annoyance at the Dean.

"I take it you're not." No shit.

You were still too astounded to speak. What did he mean yet? He was your proffesor. He should, must, know that everything between the two of you is rivalry. Right?

"What, um, what did you mean it would benefit us?" Coriolanus asked, his voice as thin as thread.

"Well I eyed your proposal. And it's good. More than good. It has a lot of potential. But Volumnia Gaul loves one thing more than her creations. Gossip. Drama. If she hears the two of you are dating, she'll make you the Capitol's power couple. She'll give you a story. You will become her favourites. If you want to win at all costs, I'm just giving you a shortcut." He stared at the pair in front of him."But, overall, you've done a great work. I'll leave you to ponder it and I'll alert you when Dr Gaul is ready to see you."

You nodded, as Coriolanus and you mumbled 'thank you's and 'goodbye's and 'have a nice day's before leaving the office.

Campus wasn't very crowded yet; only a couple of students could be seen lurking around. The morning still preserved its coldness, dew remained on the grass.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you started walking, the blond boy quick to catch up.

You hated how you got caught up in this mess. All because you and him needed help. And because he and you were the only answer to the other's problem.

"Y/n?" Coriolanus spoke softly. "How do you feel... about what the Dean said?"

Sighing, you replied, "I just don't know. I mean, this was all crazy before but now? I'm confused, I guess."

"Don't you think it can help us even more?" he frowned.

"But we don't need any more help. We joined forces, no one can beat us, there's no need for us to-"

"I know we can do it without Gaul's help. But it’s one thing to win this aid, and another thing to become Gaul’s favourites. Do you realise how many doors she could open for us?” Coriolanus had stopped both of you now, his body blocking your way, hands in your shoulders, eyes fixed on yours.

“C’mon, Y/n, it’s just pretending,” he pleaded. “Plus, we’re in this to help each other out, right?”

A warm smile spread over his lips, one that only encouraged you and painted a smile of your own on your mouth.

“Fine. We’ll do this lunatic shit. Since you’re not able to reach my level without my help,” you teased, moving past him and resuming your way.

“Sure, Y/n. Whatever makes you sleep at night!” you heard Snow shout behind you.

You just gave him the finger, biting back a smile as you walked away.

The news spread like wildfire through the campus. The dean's offhand comment had ignited a storm of speculation and gossip. As you navigated through the university halls, it was impossible to ignore the curious glances and hushed conversations that followed you.

The library, once your sanctuary of academic warfare, now became the epicenter of buzzing rumors. Students stole glances at you and Coriolanus, whispering behind cupped hands as you pretended not to notice. The atmosphere had shifted, and your every move seemed to be scrutinized under an invisible magnifying glass.

Your next meeting at the library felt different. The air was thick with unspoken words, and the weight of the rumors hung in the room. As you both delved into your project, the tension was palpable. Every accidental touch or shared smile now carried an added layer of significance.

By the third week, the rumors had taken a life of their own. The once reluctant collaboration now felt like an uncomfortable alliance, forged not just for academic success but to navigate the newfound attention. Your life, once a sheltering and private, now felt like a fishbowl.

The doors that led to Gaul's lab appeared impossibly big. You let out a shaky breath, one you didn't know you were holding. Bouncing your leg usually was how you showed your nerves, but, since you were standing, you settled with just a trembling pinky finger.

Cold fingers were wrapping around your hand before you knew it.

"What are you doing?" you turned to Coriolanus.

"Gaul's no fool. We have to put on our best efforts to make her believe we are together. You have to help, too. And your hands were shaking," he shrugged.

Taking a deep breath, you swallowed his words and leaned further into his arm, clinging to him like a good girlfriend would.

As if on cue, the door swung open, revealing brown and blue eyes shooting a daring look. The woman’s face was instantly lit up with a smirk.

“Coriolanus Snow and Y/n Y/l/n. The sweethearts Dean Highbottom has told me so much about,” Volumnia Gaul greeted the both of you. “Please, come inside.”

She stepped aside to let you in. The ceiling seemed to be miles away from the floor. White, ivory columns welcomed you, glass cabinets displaying all sorts of weird creatures and experiments.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Gaul commented behind you.

There was just something so... unsettling about her, something you couldn't quite place but that was ticking you off

It's for the better.

That had been your mantra for the past few days. The end justifies the means. You kept telling yourself that you didn't want this, that you were only doing this for convinience. But lately you hadn't really been feeling that way. Not when you were sitting right next to him, laughing mere seconds ago, his eyes staring into yours, not trying to intimidate you but more in an attentive way.

He thought you looked so delicate and alluring. You did often, as of late. There were a few stray strands of hair that hid your dashing smile from Coriolanus. A smile he had so recently grown so fond of.

He just couldn't resist the urge to tuck them behind your ear; his fingers a soft caress against your skin. And so he did.

His touch was feather-like, as if you were a porcelain doll that was about to break. At the sudden contact, you shifted your gaze from the papers on the table to look at him. And, god, you almost wish you hadn’t. Because he looked otherworldly just sitting there besides you, hand behind your ear, lips parted slightly, dangerously close to you.

“Your hair was getting in your eye,” he mumbled.

The proximity was going to kill you. He was invading all of your senses. And you hated it. You hated it because this wasn’t even real. It was just supposed to help you with Gaul, nothing more. You hated it because it didn’t feel that way. You hated it because this was not the Coriolanus you knew; not the Coriolanus you chose to know.

“Thanks,” you breathed.

You were scared. As pure and simple as that. This was uncharted territory for you; you had never seen this part of him. It frightened you because you were losing control over your emotions.

"Coryo..."

He was convinced you were goingo to give into his desires. You were convinced for a moment, too. But then it occurred to you that this wasn't supposed to be real. That whatever you had between you both was just a scheme. That he was just joking.

"What did you score on the last biology exam?"

You mentally cursed yourself as soon as the words left your mouth. You felt yourself involuntarily slipping away from his touch.

“100%,” he responded, frowning. “Why?”

“Guess all these time around me wasn’t enough. I got 102%,” you smiled, trying to sound (hoping to sound) less awkward than you sounded in your head.

“How’s that even possible? I thought there were no extra exercises.”

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat before continuing. “I detailed every answer more than it was needed, so.”

“Oh. Well, congrats.” His lips were pressed into a thin line that he tried to transform into a smile, but ended up just contorting his face.

You looked at the papers before you, laying in a mess on the table, surrounded by pencils, sticky notes and highlighters. Then your eyes peered at the window besides your spot. The sun was setting behind the Capitol’s skyline, painting golden and rosy hues over the library. It was getting late.

“I- I think I should go. I’d better go home before it darkens.”

Coriolanus nodded. "Cool. I'm gonna get going too."

You bit your lip as you stood up, gathering your work. Not another word was uttered until you noticed the librarian peering over at you from behind some shelves, and students at the end of the aisle were turning their heads to you.

Perks of being Gaul’s favourite couple, you supposed.

You leaned to Coriolanus’ level again, pulling him into a side hug as you whispered in his ear.

“They’re looking.”

And then, you pressed a kiss to his forehead and walked out.

Too overwhelmed thinking about that moment with Coriolanus, you missed the way his eyes stayed on you until you left the library, and the way his fingers lingered on the part of his forehead that had been in touch with your lips.

The thought of him plagued your mind as you made your way home. Not even the biting cold of the evening could take the warmth spreading over your cheeks. What was going on with you? He was the guy you hated, you used to hate, the one that was trying to take over your spot.

But your attempts to convince yourself were vain. Because you no longer felt raging hate when you thought of Coriolanus. You couldn't excatly pin what it was, but it was definitely not hatred.

Reaching inside you bag for the key of your family apartment, you sighed, as if that was going to clear and sort out your messy feelings. Yet you didn't even need to open the door, for it was opened swiftly in front of you.

"Y/n!" your father pulled you in. The frown between his brows, the worry reflected in his eyes, the way he held you. Something was not right.

"Dad, what's wrong? I-"

"It's your mom, she- she started to cough so much blood. She's unconscious now, I- I was just about to take her to the hospital."

"Oh my God." Tears stung in your eyes. You knew she was bad, worse than she'd ever been, but this was far from what the doctors had informed you about. "Shit, where's Deena?"

"Your sister's staying over at a friend's. Is there anyone who can take you for the night? Someone who knew about your mother, if it makes you more comfortable?" he asked, rubbing your arm.

Coriolanus. You hated that he was the first person to come to mind, but the truth was thas this project had swept you up from practically every other aspect of your life. You hadn't seen your best friends much, since they were also focused on their projects. Most of your time had been spent with Coriolanus. And you didn't know how to feel about that. Disgusted, you supposed. But that didn't quite match the tugging in your chest whenever you met him at the library, or the calmness that took over you when his knee pressed into your anxiously bouncing one.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so," you nodded, blinking the tears away, though they slid down your cheeks anyway.

"Good. I don't think it'd be good for you to be alone right now."

You hurriedly packed your essentIals and some extra clothes, making your way to the door. You held it open for your dad as he carried your mother.

"I'll see you soon. Be safe, Y/n," he whispered.

"You too, Dad."

You tried your hardest not to break down as you saw your father making his way to the doctor's with your mom in his arms.

But once he was out of sight, you rushed out of the filthy apartment building. As you ran through the Capitol's streets, you remembered the now wrinkled paper that he had written his address on.

"Here. My address. If you ever need it."

It sat scrunched in your coat's pocket. You kept running as your trembling hands unfolded it, and quickened your pace once you'd read the address.

You arrived at his door short of breath, cheeks reddened from the effort, tears dried from the wind. Your knuckles softly knocked at his door.

Mess. You felt like a mess. Everything you had known to this day seemed to have completely flipped around, changing everything all of a sudden. Your mind was a tangled, impossible knot of thoughts and feelings and emotions that were constantly contradicting each other.

A blonde girl opened the front door. To your blurry eyes, she looked like an angel.

"Can I help you?" she kindly prompted, a concerned frown appearing in between her brows.

"Yeah- I'm looking for Coriolanus?" you said, voice on the point of breaking.

"Come in, he'll be right here," the woman spoke, stepping aside so you could come in and closing the door right after. She sat you down on an armchair, her touch gentle and tender. "Coryo! Someone's here for you."

As soon as the words left her mouth, you heard footsteps tumbling down the hallway and into the entrance. The instant his eyes met yours, he put everything else aside. His sole focus was you. The red around your eyes, eyelashes glinting from the recent caress of tears, shaky hands, bottom lip between your teeth, and your leg bouncing up and down almost uncontrollably.

He wanted to hold you forever. Take you in his arms like you were a fragile flower, yet the most fierce of them all. Rivalry long forgotten and buried, mean comments and hurtful offenses forgiven without a second thought. He saw Y/n. Not perfect grades, not snarky remarks, not an opponent. Just Y/n. Sweet, sweet, Y/n.

And you didn't see Coriolanus Snow. The blond standing in front of you now was not the one you'd been fighting for the better part of your teenage years, even before. He was not the one competing against you. Who was him then, if not the Coriolanus Snow you had known all your life?

Coryo.

"Y/n, hey, hey, what's wrong?" he asked, voice surprisingly soft, even for his cousin. He crouched down, placing a cold, calming hand on your fidgety leg.

You could feel the tears welling up again, because he was there for you.

“I… I’m going to head out,” the woman said. “I’ll be back in a while.”

Coriolanus muttered a goodbye and then she was gone. And as soon as she was, you broke down.

Burying your head in your hands, tears burnt past your eyes, flowing now freely. All that could be heard were your heavy, shaky breaths. His hand on your back, tracing small circles, made you pull your head up.

Fuck, why were you even here?

"Y/n?"

"It's my mom." You tried to dry your cheeks, only for tears to fall down again. "She-she lost consciousness. The doctors didn't even say she was that bad. And I.. I just arrived there and there was nothing I could do-" your voice broke before you could finish the sentence.

He instantly pulled you into a hug, your head hidden in the crook of his neck, arms around it. One of his hands was wrapped around your torso, safely drawing you to him, while the other was tangled in your hair.

"I am so, so, sorry," he whispered, breath tickling your ear. You only clinged to him tighter; the only thing on your mind other than your mother right then was how warm and guarded you felt in his arms.

When you finally retracted to look at him, you found your body almost leaning into him again, yearning for his embrace. You inhaled sharply.

"I'm by your side no matter what, okay?" he assured you, eyes piercing yours, hands sliding up your figure to cup your face. "I'm here for you."

You did your best to gather yourself and nod at his words. But then you felt him pulling away in the slightest. No. You wanted him close. You wanted him.

You rose a hand to his neck, fingers dancing along his skin, messing with the blond curls they could reach.

"Hey, Y/n," Coriolanus called out. "She's going to make it. She'll be okay. And so will you."

A knot formed in your throat, the prequel to infinite tears, because who was him and what was he doing to your heart?

Whatever prejudice or thought you had against him was blurrying in your mind. The person he was supposed to represent in your head was further and further from the one barely inches away from you now. And then it hit you. Right then, right there. It didn't scare you. You wanted to know this person. You wanted to give the both of you a second consideration under different lightning.

And so, you closed the gap between Coriolanus and you, as he had tried and wanted so bad to do mere hours before. His lips were warm, contrary to every other part of his body you had ever been in contact with.

For a fraction of second, he hesitated, frozen in his spot, convincing himself that this was happening, that this was real, that you were real. But once he kissed back, he just couldn't let you go.

His hands were suddenly everywhere, exploring your body and drawing you to him as he kissed you, all the desire and passion (and even the resentment, too) poured into the kiss. Coriolanus wanted to make you feel okay. Not just now. But 'now' would have to do as of that moment. And if this was how you wanted the pain to go away, so be it. Fingers digging in your hips made you leave out a mixture of a gasp and a moan, which Coriolanus used to slip his tongue inside your mouth. Everthing he did got you addicted, craving more.

You had both been sitting on the floor, but now you were climbing into his lap, pulling away for the smallest of seconds, but either way Coriolanus was quick to reunite your lips again. Your mouths danced together. Your sking tingled pleasantly under his touch; a constant fire travelling beneath his fingers. But when his hand raised to your cheek, checking for the trace of any new tears. It was simply enough to melt you on the spot.

Tugging at his hair, you angled his face to leave a trace of open-mouthed kisses along his jaw. His groan reverberated through your skin.

The pain was buried somewhere in your mind, but your heart didn’t ache in that moment; he was all your senses were taking in. And you felt safe.

#heartcereql #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you

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youunravelme · 1 year ago

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murphy's law sneak peek

author's note: this is just a look into what i've been working on the past few months (again, my b for being the most inconsistent writer ever). please let me know your thoughts! i'm hoping to finish this up VERY soon!! so here are the first two and a half pages of this fic! :))))))

mat barzal x beau's step-sister!reader (bc i'm not white and wanted to leave the reader racially neutral.)

summary:nothing good could come from sleeping with your (step) brother's best friend.

when anthony was traded to vancouver, you felt like the rug had been pulled out from under you. he was your rock since you were twelve when your mom and his dad got married. he was there when you finished your undergrad, and offered up the spare room in his apartment when you started your master's degree at columbia.

but with his new job back in your home country, you knew there was no way you could afford to stay in his apartment. after all, you were nowhere close to making the millions of dollars he did.

"don't worry about it," he said. "i have it taken care of."

what he didn't say was that the solution was staying in mat's extra room.

it wouldn't be that big of a deal, you knew mat just from the sheer amount of time he and anthony spent together. if it wasn't seeing him at games, it was out at bars, or in your shared apartment when you got home from class.

but despite all the interactions you had, almost none of them were meaningful. everything you knew about him started and ended with your connection to tito. and neither of you cared to remedy that.

it didn't mean you two were hostile, didn't even mean that you didn't like each other. it just meant that when tito wasn't around, you two didn't talk.

until you started living together.

the t-shirt incident

it wasn't intentional, you'd swear up and down that it wasn't. you recalled mat's text that he would be out that night and not to wait up for him (not that you ever did, but the sentiment was clearly communicated: stay out of the common areas).

you weren't even doing anything special that night, your boyfriend was out of town on a work trip and you hadn't met friends outside of the islander wags just yet (all of whom were busy that night). so you treated yourself to a shower and a face mask. you'd just finished washing it off when you heard the front door close.

truthfully, you almost stayed in your room until you realized your water cup was empty, and you might've let it go if it wasn't for the past few nights where you woke up craving a sip of water. but you'd like to think you were a considerate roommate, so you waited five minutes for mat to go to his room before you planned on going into the kitchen.

you didn't realize your mistake until you walked into the living room and caught mat and a girl, both shirtless.

to be honest, you weren't sure who screamed first, if it was you or the other girl. you managed to see her lunge for her shirt right as you covered your eyes with one hand and dropped your cup on the floor.

"oh my god," was all you could say.

but the other girl clearly wasn't rendered speechless like you were because she yelled "you didn't say you had a girlfriend, asshole!" before slamming the front door behind her.

you didn't move, couldn't move, too mortified to even acknowledge what you'd just interrupted. very slowly, like he couldn't see you, you bent down and fumbled around with one hand, blindly searching for the cup.

the couch creaked, followed by a heavy sigh from mat. "you can look, you know? nothing you probably haven't seen before."

you peeked between your fingers and saw mat pulling his shirt back on. you dropped your hand and stood up straight almost as soon as he was fully clothed.

cue the apology tour.

"oh my god, mat, i am so sorry! i totally wasn't thinking, i thought you were in your room by this point and i needed water. i didn't even think about what it would look like to your lady friend, if you'd like i can try to catch her before she gets in a cab and explain the situation?"

mat blinked at you. "lady friend?" he asked.

you shrugged. "well, she's a lady, and a friend."

he let out a dry laugh, though his lips didn't curl up in a smile. maybe it was more of a scoff? "friend is a bit of an overstatement. i don't even remember her name."

the room went silent before you caught mat staring at your chest. you glanced down and the urge to dig a hole and die in it crossed your mind.

the seattle thunderbirds logo was staring you in the face.

"oh god, our laundry must've gotten mixed up i'm sorry--"

"i was wondering where that shirt went."

you grabbed the bottom of the shirt before you remembered stripping in front of your new roommate was probably not the best thing to do.

"i can rewash it for you."

he nodded, but otherwise didn't offer anymore commentary.

so you scooped up the cup from the floor and sheepishly sidestepped your way into the kitchen.

and even though it took approximately four seconds to pour yourself a glass of water, you hid in the kitchen until you heard the telltale click of mat's bedroom door.

part of you thought it was best to stay out of his way the next morning, to let mat meander throughout the apartment before he went to his morning skate.

but then you thought about your childhood, and how you pissed anthony and francis off when you were fourteen so you baked them cookies after school and magically, everything was okay between the three of you by the end of the day.

so you woke up earlier than you normally would've to make mat breakfast. you'd made anthony breakfast before, surely mat's diet was about the same?

the eggs were nearly done when you heard his door open. it was only a matter of time before he joined you in the kitchen. you had his protein shaker bottle sitting on the island next to the plate of bacon you'd made. the toast had just popped out of the toaster.

"morning," mat said when he walked into the kitchen.

you whipped your head around to smile at him before focusing on the eggs in front of you. "hope you're hungry," you said. "i made breakfast."

you pulled the pan off the burner and placed them on a potholder. "wasn't sure how you liked your eggs, anthony likes his scrambled, so i just made them scrambled, hope that's okay."

he shrugged and mumbled a quiet thank you before helping himself to the meal you made and fixing his protein shake. you waited until he'd helped himself to the food and took a seat at the island before you said anything, just staring at his profile until he took a bite of the toast.

"i really am sorry about last night," you started. "it wasn't on purpose, i promise." you cleared your throat and made yourself busy by fixing your plate. "next time, i'll just go stay at someone else's place."

mat snorted into his protein shake. a sly smirk was on his lips when he pulled the drink away.

"what?" you asked, looking straight at him.

mat shook his head. "if you left every time i brought a girl over, you'd never be home."

you flushed and directed your eyes back to your plate. "oh."

you couldn't see mat run a hand down his face, but you could hear him sigh. "look," he said and you picked your head up to look into his eyes. "it's just going to be an adjustment. i'll make sure to text you when i'm coming home with a girl and i'll take her to my room as quickly as possible."

"and i'll make myself scarce until the morning."

mat shrugged. "i mean, you live here too, i'm not asking you to be holed up in your room, just maybe don't make an appearance in my shirt until i've at least told the girl about you?"

you nodded almost immediately. "i can do that. i swear, after today, i won't be a problem anymore! you can have literally all the girls over and you won't even know i'm here!"

if only that were true.

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mathew barzal imagine #nhl blurb #nhl imagines #nhl imagine

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sketchfanda · 9 months ago

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A Little Moxxie Love Lore: Hellmares

Among the denizens of Hell’s native demon population, there are often found to be enough breeds to warrant being classed as their own species much like with succubi & incubi, hellhounds and imps. Such is the case with Hellborn Equines, who are plenty distinct and different enough from the more feral, primal demonic hellhorses seen in locations like Wrath. Aside from obvious qualities like the fact they ca walk on two legs and speak of course, to say nothing of the obvious differential comparisons with centaurs of course. In particular with this demon breed, the Hellmares are often considered highly valued and popular for their natural good looks, which make them very popular for beauty pageants and contests, often thriving as fashion models and of course porn stars.

But many Hellmares are considered quite a commodity in the 7 circles of course for their gifted set of legs, which posses not only great strength (making them very effective in heavy manual labour and farm work, but are also said to have kicks so intense that they can cause severe brain damage or death to anyone foolish to provoke these gals) but especially their speed. Indeed much like ho in the living world, horse racing is considered the sport of kings, Hellmares have found themselves thriving in the infernal depths as professional race track stars. Stadiums are often filled to capacity in locations such as Wrath and Lust with betting booths seeing money change hands as crowds roar and cheer on their favoured racer to glory and victory. Compared to those in hell, demon and sinner alike, Hellmares live a very lucrative lifestyle that can afford them luxury and comfor which they can enjoy thanks to their effort and hard work.

Naturally such racing and pageant queens have owners and handlers to oversee and tend to their needs to ensure and maintain their quality and wellbeing, ranging from well off enough blue collars like Wrath farmers and some of Hell’s blue blood class such as the Ars Goetia. But of course even with the age rate in Hell and the lifespan of the average demon and sinner, no mare can ever manage to outrun Father Time so this has often lead to their managers arranging for their gals to open sure a future generation of champions by passing on their genes. Mainly by arranging them to bred by a high quality stallion but there has been found to be an issue in that regard….Hellmares hate the male of their species. Like they can’t stand them at all.

This is mainly due to several notable factors, chief among them being evolution and genetics as over time, Hell Stallions have all been prone into being all alike in terms of personality. That is to say arrogant douche bag frat boy jock dude bros that would make Johnny Bravo think they got a problem, wanna be Casanova quagmires who think they’re God’s gift to women just because they have big dicks. This obnoxious behaviour as well as the fact that population size ratio of mares to stallions is 6 to 4 at the least, 7 to 3 at the most, makes it an issue when arranging breeding sessions.

This is what has lead to hellmare owners arranging matters to ensure the studs can be enabled for breeding with a practice plenty common in the living world when it comes to horse owners. Utilising a teaser to coax the mares into estrus as its found that certain types of demon males that are visually easy in the eyes in terms of attractiveness and overall personality prove to be very effective in arousing the mares to such a state that in theory, the stallions will be better able to mount snd do the deed. In practice however, it’s said to be that Hellmares in recent times have been more prone and partial to hooking up with their teasers instead, opting to knockout the stallions and trick them into thinking they did a job well done, thus sparing their fragile egos.

Now when it comes to teasers of course, as mentioned Hellmares seem to like partners who are visually appealing and pleasant in personality, the rare sort of diamonds in the rough in a place like Hell, where being a chaotically evil and overall generally shitty person tends to be a default personality setting. But not too far and between as many think, ranging rom easy candidates like incubi and the odd succubi for mares who often swing that way, both if the mare is really looking to teased, hellhounds and of course Imps. For being the bottom rung of society in Hell, some imps are found to meet and tick off all the checkbox requirements in what Hellmare looks for in a teaser. The sweeter and cuter the imp, the more likely a Hellmare will go into heat, most rumours sound and credit the recent trend in Hellmare/Teaser relation especially with imps to one by the name of Moxxie, who’s been found to be quite in demand for his services as a teaser and with good reason mind you.

Naturally thanks to the more superior lovemaking skills of their teasers, the imps in particular, Hellmares have a high success rate of becoming impregnated with any particular traits or qualities their hybrid babies may have being often overlooked or ignored. Though it often especially helps when the babies take after their mother as they produce more daughters than sons thanks to the aforementioned ratio. Not that the owners and trainers will ever notice anyway, especially when the expected results of those kids growing up to become pageant and racing champions is made a reality. Ignorance is bliss particularly when wealth and money are involved.

For those wondering of course, the mares’ Zebra cousins, who often live and reside in the more wilder portions of Wrath are said to pretty much thrive on teasers in their sexual culture in the same manner. Being more open and outright displaying their affection and relationships with their teasers, often marrying them and seeing more pride and no shame in especially being with an imp or preferring them to be their baby daddies over the stallions of their own kind. Yes as you might gather this is because HellZebra stallions are insufferable and pretentious bores who assume their having big dicks automatically makes them absolute ladies men. In fact stallions among Either Hell equine breeds have terrible stamina and staying power in contrast to their quite frankly overrated length and girth of their endowments.

And that’s the basic 101 on Hellmares, their culture and mating habits and for those wondering, expect it to be a common habit tat many other demon breeds and species are especially partial to imps. Particularly and especially imps with very sweet, chivalrous personalities and it should be mentioned that Hellmares and Zebras also thrive quite well in careers in porn where interspecies relations and the chances of getting knocked up are very likely. Skullfuck Prod. is notable for its very high roster membership of these gals and they’ve become quite eager to work with his new rookie sensation, Mysterious M. So business is looking pretty good.

Expect more 101 rundowns on certain demon breeds in Hell down the line but can’t be left out that the heaven equivalent to thse gals tend to radiate a more sensual regal vibe. If pageant Hellmares are sexy pin ups, holy mares are more tasteful gravure models but it’s found that they also share a partial fondness for imps. Seems the stallion issue is plenty common and the taboo nature and aspect in regards to the cultural differences in heaven and hell make it rather spicy and fun. Always the quiet ones eh?

#sketchfan #sketchfanda #sketchfan85 #Helluva boss #hazbin hotel #moxxie

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tiktaalic · 2 days ago

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could theo decker do beat sheet?

HM. really good question. my gut says no. beat sheet dean does masculinity in a very . immature way for lack of a better word. overgrown high schooler, low/zero commitment relationships with women frat boy. theo as an adult does masculinity in a very different way because he's also using masculinity as a status symbol. which isn't to say theo COULDN'T do the theo equivalent of frat boy masculinity. here are the options:

theo does beat sheet as theo (in his little suits making a Real Go at college, not in his classes but in networking connections). this theo has a like student council chair slash sorority girlfriend so that he doesn't have to worry about +1s at events dinners etc. this is in no way incompatible with meeting / getting crazy close to boris. the sticking point i've come upon is that like. i don't think boris would be Out out. like theo could run into him at a gay club and be like. you're gay? and boris would be like no i just like drugs and dancing and getting hit on. and the other club fucking sucks. theo could walk in on boris making out with a guy and be like. you're gay? and boris would be like this? this is called not passing up an opportunity. BORIS would be the one like. pfah. i ride kickass motorcycle ergo i am not gay. and i have a lot of trouble envisioning either of them breaking that holding pattern of plausible deniability. kind of a two closets situation.

there is also: theo frat boy masculinity. not a 1:1 which follows because frat boy dean was also not frat boy dean. frat boy theo i think would be pretty much vegas theo. stoner who skips classes and has casual relationships with women. it's again a matter of uncloseting boris first. which IS possible. i think boris could be like theo i did shrooms and now i'm gay. actually yeah if i'm affording boris the same amount of characterization that beat sheet afforded cas. prior and off page before meeting theo boris did shrooms and realized he was gay. this is so he can catalyze theo's development.

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ultimateca · 5 months ago

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mazegays · 6 months ago

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please take down the mistletoe

cause i don't wanna think about that right now

Since I've been torturing Molly with this all day, it's dedicated to them @itsthemxze

Gally glares at Frypan. He knows what he’s doing with this music. A song that Thomas had played for him. Gally hadn't understood why, because it’s a break up song–“When you were putting up the lights this year/did you notice one less pair of hands?”–but now that things are over, he thinks he gets it.

“Can we turn this off?”

“Gally, you know he’s back in town.” Gally also knows that the string tied around his wrist, connecting him to Thomas, is fading fast; he knows that Thomas has met someone else. Someone who's probably gaining the connection that Gally is losing.

They were supposed to be fated, one of those couples everyone talks about for centuries.

If the string fades away, they still will be��just in a different way. Strings fading is more recorded than it ever has been, a little less taboo now than in the past. But people still talk when one burns out.

“I don't want to see him.” Gally’s the one who ended things–Thomas had been accepted with a full ride to a school about fifty hours away, by car. Less if they could afford to fly.

Gally’s missed him every day since he told Thomas that he didn't think he could handle long-distance. Not for four years, or more, because Thomas is brilliant and they're going to want to keep him around.

“Maybe he wants to see you.” He won't. Gally had watched him for years as their string formed, and Thomas runs when he can't solve something. He hadn’t been running from Gally, from their relationship, when he accepted the offer (he had to, Gally would have been pissed if Thomas had stuck around for him.), but he’s been running ever since.

This is the first time he’s come home in three years. Their string had been strong at first, and he and Thomas had been texting regularly. Thomas probably hadn’t wanted to hear his voice or see his face over a call, and that was fine. Gally gets it.

“He doesn’t want to see me.”

“You've been fated since middle school, Gally, he might have a thing or two to say. You dated for five years. The last time I talked to you before Thomas got his acceptance letter, you sounded like you were ready to ask him to marry you.”

“Thomas wanted to wait until after college.”

“To get engaged, or to get married?”

“Engaged. We were young, we are young. It’s not like the strings have to mean something.” Gally wishes they did. His tie to Thomas had been strong until the beginning of summer, a vibrant red. It still vibrated when Thomas was stressed or sad or excited. Gally can only assume that was the same on Thomas’s end.

He hasn’t had any of that in months. The only reason he knew that Thomas hadn't gotten his string cut was because it was still there.

Now, it's almost gone, and Thomas is back in town.

Gally knows it’s not to patch things up with him.

finish on ao3 or continue reading

“Just turn it off, Fry.” Gally sighs, slamming the dough onto the counter with more force than he needs to. “I don't know why you're so insistent that we should talk.”

“Because we should.” Thomas’s voice gets him to look up. “You're looking well, Gally.”

Thomas… Thomas is a little taller, maybe. His hair is still brown–he'd never been one for funky colors–but it's styled now, in a way Thomas had never bothered with in high school.

“So are you.”

Gally’s thought about seeing him again. Of course he has. But in those daydreams, he'd been the one going after Thomas, chasing him.

He would find him in his dorm, or after class, and say that it had all been a mistake, beg for Thomas to take him back. Kiss him in the middle of the hallway, on the sidewalk, in the pouring rain. Whatever it took.

He’s lost his chance.

“I was hoping you'd call, that first Christmas.” Thomas tells him, not moving any closer. “I called you, and you didn't pick up–I hoped you would answer when you woke up.”

And he never had. He'd texted instead, invited Thomas to call him again, but it hadn't happened.

“I didn’t know how to celebrate Christmas without you. I have gifts for you that I never sent. I hoped that maybe, when the semester ended, you'd tell me that you would meet me halfway and we could do a summer roadtrip like we always talked about. When I texted you about it, you blew me off.”

Gally remembers that, too.

“I made friends and wanted to tell them all about you, but I wasn't sure if I could do that anymore. And when they got it out of me, they dragged me around town for a new haircut, some new clothes. Said I wasn't going to forget about you if I kept wearing your t-shirts to bed. I didn't want to forget about you, not then. Even though it had been over a year. Since we still had the string, I thought we would be okay.”

Gally can't make himself say anything. Thomas has the talking handled, anyway. Does he know that Gally could listen to him talk forever and never get tired of his voice?

“I don't know what you feel, or why you really broke up with me, but I know the string's been fading. I can barely see it, some days. It’s… not why I came back. You know, if you had asked me stay, begged me to come back, I would have. We're tied together, we were so in love in high school that we made our friends sick.”

When Gally glances behind him, Frypan’s not there anymore to help him figure out what to say.

“Thomas, I'm sorry. I–”

“Please, Gally, not now.” Thomas finally comes closer, putting the bag he's carrying on the counter between them. “Everything in here is yours, my friends told me I should burn it but I didn't want to get rid of anything that you'd touched. There are gifts for you, too, and for your parents and grandma. I never figured out how to knit the way she does, but I hope she'll like it anyway.

“You've probably figured this out by now, but I've met someone. Someone… who runs in with me when I need to figure something out. It took me a long time to realize that you weren't going to come and find me, that you didn't want to go back to the way things were. That's okay, Gally, but we both need to stop clinging to our red string of fate.”

“You came here to ask me to get it cut.”

“Yes.”

Gally wants to say no, he really does.

He just doesn't think he has the right, or the nerve, to ask that of Thomas.

“You could have cut it at school. You don't need me there.”

“Gally, you were a big part of my life for a long time, even before we could see our strings. You taught me that all holidays, big or small, were supposed to be fun. When I met my grandma and celebrated Chanukah for the first time, you were right by my side. You researched with me, visited three synagogues with me so I could learn as much as possible without leaving the state. You arranged your family's holiday plans the next year so we could celebrate both.

You were the most important person in my world. If you don't want to cut it, I won't. We can let it fade.”

“No, I'll go with you.” And break his own heart in the process, but he can see that Thomas means it. There's nothing left for them, not where Thomas is concerned. He's patched up whatever holes Gally had left in him and he's ready to move on.

“Thank you.” Thomas sighs, shoulders dropping–there was a time when Gally would have noticed how tense he was immediately. “Do you want to make an appointment, or should we try a walk-in place?”

He's surprised he's being given the option. He hasn’t been particularly nice to Thomas when they’d broken up.

“How long are you here for?”

“You’re not changing my mind, Gally.”

“I wasn’t going to try.” He knows better than that; the Thomas he remembers rarely backed down. “I–When works for you?”

“We could go right now. If Fry’s around, you could bring him.” Cutting red strings of fate can be painful, but Gally doesn’t think that theirs will hurt Thomas one bit.

“Do you have anyone to come with you?”

“He’s outside. I wanted to do this by myself.”

Gally wants to throw up. He wants to tell Thomas no, he can’t cut their string, he can’t go and be with someone else.

He’s the one who let him go, so he doesn’t get to set the terms.

“I’m available now.” Frypan steps out of the depths of the kitchen. “Sorry, I didn’t hear all of it.”

“That’s fine. I’m sure we’ve got plenty of people wondering what’s going on, anyway.” Thomas seems so calm about all of this.

Gally wonders how long he’s known that he was going to come back and ask about cutting their string.

“There’s a reputable string-shearer a few blocks away.”

“You did your research.”

“I wanted to be prepared if you said yes. They take walk-ins.”

“What’s the address?” Frypan writes it down. “Thanks, Thomas. It’s good to see you again.”

“You, too. I’ve missed everyone here.”

Then why haven’t you come back? Gally wants to scream. Why not come visit if you missed us so much.

But he knows why. And he can’t blame him. He probably would have cut the string already.

“Maybe we can have everyone get together one evening, while you’re here.” Frypan suggests. “Are you going somewhere else over break?”

“No, we’re staying with Newt. His little sister goes to our school.”

“Must feel like a small world over there.”

“It does, sometimes. Took a while for that to happen. I felt like I was drowning at first.” It’s not pointed, but it still cuts Gally into pieces.

“We’ll meet you over there in half an hour.” Frypan promises.

“I’ll get started on the paperwork, then.”

The automatic door can only shut quietly, but it’s the loudest thing Gally’s ever heard.

“How long has it been fading?”

“Since the start of summer. That’s when I first let myself notice it.” Gally admits. “I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to say anything was wrong. I didn’t want anything to be wrong.”

“Did you really ignore his calls on Christmas?”

“Well, there’s a time difference–”

“It’s a few hours, not a whole day, Gally. Get your stuff together, I’ll clear up in here. I get the feeling we’re not coming back after this.”

“It’s rare that I have both people here at once.” Mary raises her brow at Gally and he wants to melt. She won’t tell anyone about this–she wouldn’t have business if she did–but she used to babysit him when he was a kid and he doesn’t want to do this with her.

But he knows she’s good, and she’ll be fair.

“We’ve been fading for a while.” Thomas tells her. “But I didn’t want to get our string cut without talking to him.” The string hasn’t gotten any brighter; if anything, it’s gotten dimmer.

“I need to hear your reasons for cutting the string. Technically, only one of you has to speak.”

“I can go.” Gally whispers. He doesn’t really know what he’s going to say until he says it. “Thomas, even before we really knew what the strings meant, I was watching you. You refused to stop asking questions and wouldn’t play like the rest of us on the playground and it drove me mad. I loved you when we started dating, and I love you now, despite the distance between us. Distance I created. I wasn’t going to let you ruin your chances at a full ride scholarship for me, but I didn’t want to tell you that. I was scared that seeing what else was out there would make you resent me for tying you down, holding you back, so I didn’t even try. I broke up with you and said it was because I didn’t think we could handle long-distance, when I know we would have made it work. We could have marked dates on our shared calendar and video-called each other to eat dinner together. I thought about you every day, but I was too proud to ask you to come back, or to ask to come to you. I thought you’d be home for the holidays, and we could talk. But you didn’t come back that year, or the next. And then our string started fading and I realized that I was never getting you back.”

It’s the most he’s said to Thomas in years. It’s not an apology. It’s not what he deserves.

“You were all I had.” Thomas answers. “You were all I had here, for the longest time. One of the only people who would listen to me. And then, as soon as I was going somewhere else, you gave up on us. Instead of trying something hard. Before, if I ran when something got to be too much, you’d be waiting on the other side, and we’d figure it out. Then I had to learn how it felt to run from you. And I wanted to die.

“You were all I had, and you made it sound so easy, so logical, when you broke up with me. I remember thinking ‘this is all wrong, I’m supposed to be the logical one’, before telling myself that I was not going to cry over this around you. You would have comforted me, and I would have hit you for it. It took so long for my friends to convince me that I didn’t need to run back to you when I had someone who was matching my stride. That’s why I want our strings cut. I could wait for them to fade, but for me this is just one more reminder of the boy who diced his eggs before they even made it into the basket.”

“I think I’ve heard enough. Are you ready?” They both nod, and Mary reaches for their string. It’s loose around Gally’s wrist, now. A few more days and it would fade away or fall off on its own.

When the whole string is visible, he can see all of the knots tied in it. All of the times they could have worked things out, but didn’t. He also sees it on Thomas for the first time in years. His isn’t loose. It’s wrapped around his arm and pulled taut, the knots pressing into his skin.

They’re not able to cut off circulation. If it were a real string, Thomas would only have half of his bicep left.

This is what Gally’s been doing to him.

That realization makes him go numb.

Mary cuts the string and unravels it from their bodies.

“You’re all done here.” She says to him, or maybe Frypan, quietly. “A warm bath and some warm drinks would be good. He might feel a chill for a while.”

Thomas looks completely unaffected. Gally doesn’t recognize the guy he’s with–that’s probably for the best. He looks settled in his arms.

Mary probably doesn’t realize that the door isn’t completely shut when she says “And you already had string forming, even when you were still tied to someone else. That’s a good indication of a strong bond.”

Gally manages to hold off the tears until Frypan gets him home. Chapter 2

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the-moon-will-mourn · 9 months ago

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now i haven't finished the dream thieves yet (i'm like,,, 7 chapters away from finishing) and i think this may contain spoilers???? but i'm not too sure yet. i'm basically gonna word vomit. i'm sorry for not using any quotes, i wish i could but i only have the ebook version and a very limited storage space on my phone where i can only have ~two books downloaded

like a normal person, i enjoy listening to video essays, see what creators want to explain to their audience and leave with a certain view, try to come to my own arguments about certain points in the videos, see if i can apply some points to other aspects of my life etc etc. (this was the type of shi that helped me with my eng lit essays rip i miss alevels) and like a normal british citizen i looked up stuff about classism in the uk. in the end, i found a video essay about classism in general and how the ultra rich try to mimic being poor to get away from their hard issues that comes with being rich (which, frankly, is probably a lot less compared to someone who is working class).

recently, i was talking to my friend about specifics in the book about certain characters and i remember we went onto the convo of making music playlists for the characters. they said "it's gonna be hard for adam [...] cuz his whole thing is about being unknowable" and it always struck me with how unknowable he truly is when reading his character because his character is intrinsically linked to his working class background. (context: i'm a middle class child of immigrants who built themselves in the uk)

it's very clear the kind of social commentary stiefvater wanted to make using adam's character with how isolating and alienating it can be coming from a working class background trying to assimilate yourself into a society of those protected and privileged enough to not have any problems with accessing opportunities. how class is a huge obstacle between interpersonal relationships and feeling safe enough to be vulnerable with your issues with being working class. how difference in class can cause one-sided shame because of the meritocratic society we're living in. how, no matter how much money you earn or how many connections you can make, your attachment to your working class identity can be enough reason to aim for something supernaturally larger than yourself.

it's evident that other characters overlook adam's social class because he's a "self-made man" (or smth) and mainly because he's their friend: adam. however, when we get a chapter in his pov, class is a driving factor in how he interacts and views everyone. we can see the privilege gansey and ronan have for being able to not even consider class as an intimidating aspect about themselves to a normal person, but it's everything to adam in the sense that he feels like his earned money doesn't give him access to a similar respect.

now that i truly think about it, it was a good idea for adam not to join them in monmouth manufacturing because it just feels like they're... mocking him in an indirect way? they have the ability to choose to live in a nice place and instead chose to live in a random, run-down building because it seemed aesthetic. adam was forced to live in a rundown trailer because that's all they could have afforded. i know gansey had good intentions for wanting adam to join them, but everything that he likes as an aesthetic (monmouth manufacturing, the run-down camaro, eating mint leaves instead of gum) can seem like he's flaunting the fact he can choose that lifestyle without any consequences.

back to the point of the meritocratic society (which we usually assume in books that take place in a similar world as our own) creating shame because of their class: the assumption that because someone has worked hard to earn what they have gives them a right to be proud. but this is the opposite for adam as he fights with the fact that he could have maybe be seen as even more equal to gansey if he had just been born with wealth.

we can frame it as, maybe, despite gansey's desire to appear working class, it only broadens the distance between him and adam. it only worsens adam's difficult relationship with his class shame despite probably wanting to be more relatable or even laid-back.

when reading the second book after his sacrifice, i was confused as to why adam was so un-adam-like. i mean, in the first book i didn't really understand him because of his huge insistance that his class makes him inherently inferior to everyone he surrounds himself with and i don't see class as an issue myself.

however, his sacrifice basically was watering the seed of ambition that was planted when he decided to aim for aglionby. it becamse clearer to me how much this opportunity to be superior, even if it's supernatural and terrifying, is important for him understanding in what he thinks he lacks. by those thoughts of what he lacks, he thought that this chance to be cabeswater's channel could be a way to compensate for his inferior social class. or something.

anyways, thank you for coming to my ted talk. this is not proofread, and my sister keeps nagging at me to shower. also i simp for gansey do not think this is me trying mischaracterising him i'm just trying to understand the theme of class in this series and having gansey as a figure to compare to is literally integral.

#the raven cycle #the raven boys #maggie stiefvater #adam parrish #richard campbell gansey iii #ronan lynch #social classes #my sister looked at my screen and went 'what the freak why are u writing a reddit post'#i told her i was on tumblr n she said it was the length of a reddit post #i am in love with gansey #i am also in love with adam #and his unknowable-ness #i need to get this off my chest because i cannot keep bothering my friend with my stupid theories and analysis #i also don't share it cuz ik they already know it #help i need to finish reading it instead of analysing this

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airofare · 1 year ago

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my-castles-crumbling · 2 months ago

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Anon Advice Asks - April 10

Outlet anon, outed anon, snape anon (new), episode anon (new), first binder anon

Outlet anon

My trauma wasn't even that bad.

Why am I so fucked up?

Why can't I believe someone would ever care about me?

Why did the world give up on me before I was old enough to spell my name?

How did I survive myself?

-outlet

Hi <3 I need you to remember that a lot of these thoughts are your brain messing with you. You are not fucked up and your trauma is valid. People DO care, and there are people who believe in you <3 and you WILL survive.

I got 100/100 on the research paper from a few weeks ago!!!!!

COngratulations!!! This is truly impressive. Want to write my papers for me? lol

Hey Cas, Outlet anon here.

I have a bio exam in a couple hours that I'm probably going to fail, but oh well. I gave up on studying two minutes in and I've already used up my medication for today.

'No beta we die like men' but it's my GPA

I'll let you know how it goes <3

Hey Cas, Outlet anon here.

I got 98/104!!

HA! PROOF! Sometimes, your brain is lying to you and telling you bad things about yourself that aren;t true. Obviously, you're very smart and capable of hard things. I'm so proud of you!

______

Outed anon

Hello Cas, Its Outed Anon here!

I have a pretty light ask but this is something ive been trying to work out recently.

Basically I have a friend - lets call her A for the record - and she's a really nice person! Like a motherly-ironic type. However, no matter how nice she is, she has actually no filter in what she says. Whatever she thinks she will say. While this is a good thing a problem i (and other friend K) have with her is that she never says nice things like that. For example, we all have a mutual friend who is really into her. Not only romantically but also as a person and he geniuenly cares about her and her opinion. His parents are divorced and he has two sisters so his mom works extra hard to afford the food and everything. Because of that she works late hours and the house isnt messy but its a bit chaotic (it actually is far from being messy but theres just a lot of things happening). But his house is really comfy and its our place to just chill. When he wanred to invite us over for his BIRTHDAY she said she wont come because (in her opinion) his house holds (and here i quote) "bad energy" & its dirty. (Its really not)

Im a pagan so im into witchcraft anf the house was really fine, so im not sure where the comment came from but it was very hurtfull for him.

Another thing is that she really likes helping. Shes the type of person to help a random girl whos crying on the street. Its really sweet but it is a bit annoying. Example: i did my homework badly because i really wanted to be done with it and she asked if she can copy it. I gave it to her but didnt really want to because (as i mentioned) it was done wrong (which she knew about) and because last time i gave her homework she gave it to other people which did made fun of me so i was taken aback. Again as i feared she gave the BADLY done homework to other students in out class. I asked her why did she do it if i asked her last time not to do so and she just said she doesnt thinj she did anything bad. After all she just helped our friends by giving them homework. Except it was mine and i didnt want to share cause IT WAS WRONG.

Yeah so i basically wanted to ask for advice how to gently imply to her that her actions & words are actually hurting people and she doesn't realise it. She also never apologise on her own and when she does say 'sorry' then its only because me or K told her she was rude and she just should admit to that.

Ok this was longer then i expected. Hope your week goes well & youre healthy BYE

(ALSO CHAPTER 11 OF TSATS??? ATE?? I LOVED IT SO MUCH)

Hi! Thank you for the love!

Honestly, this is the type of thing that you have to be honest about. You have to tell your friend that she's hurting people. I mean, you can even show her a version of what you wrote here, or tell her something similar: That you know she's caring and likes to help, but sometimes her actions hurt. I know you're afraid of upsetting her, but the alternative is that she continues to act this way, you continue to get hurt, and your friendship eventually fails. It's okay to be honest with people when they've hurt you <3 Just make sure to sit her down and approach the conversation seriously so she knows you're serious. If she gets angry from there, then it might be a sign to take a step back from the friendship.

Sending love!

____________

Snape anon (TW: SA mention)

I'm so confused right now.. so I just saw a Pro Snape post and it was about the prank and how the Marauders were wrong and everything right cool,but my problem is the post had "SA is wrong no matter the victim" (which true) and basically the Marauders fans are protecting perpetrators. And I'm confused cause I've never read the books, so I don't know the exact specifics of the prank, but I've never heard anything about SA up until now. Was everyone not talking about this, or is the person who made this post just lying, or maybe I didn't understand the post?? I don't know. Please clarify if you know what's going on here. I'm so confused.

Hi!

Yeah, I like to think I have a pretty good knowledge of canon and the marauders never SA'd anyone, nor did Snape SA anyone. They were all awful to each other in canon, absolutely, but not like that. The main instance in the books that I can think of is that Merope, Voldemort's mother, used love potion to seduce Tom Senior, Voldemort's father, which a lot of people consider SA. But yeah...people can correct me if I'm wrong, but I can't think of anything. I'm wondering if maybe they were making a comparison? Like saying bullying is wrong, no matter the victim, just like SA is wrong, no matter the victim? Which...bullying is wrong, a thousand percent, but comparing it to SA is wild, imo.

Edited to add: okay someone wrote in to remind me that in the fifth book, in the chapter titled "Snape's Worst Memory" when Harry sees James and Sirius bullying Snape, there is a moment when they have him upside-down and they take off his pants with magic. They then threaten to (but Harry never finds out if they actually) take off Snape's underwear. I re-read it to double check. According to wikipedia, which I acknowledge can often be wrong, "Pantsing, also known as depantsing, debagging, dacking, flagging, sharking, and scanting, is the act of pulling down a person's trousers and sometimes underpants, typically as a practical joke or a form of bullying." It also says "Pantsing can be used as a form of bullying and is technically the crime of simple assault." So it looks like legally, pantsing someone is considered a form of simple assault, not SA. At most, if the intentions were different, it sounds like it might be considered sexual harassment.

I have mixed feelings because I'm not a survivor of SA, so I can;t completely understand. So part of me wants to argue that this is not SA, and saying it is minimizes actual instances of SA. BUT given this context, I can see why someone might personally feel like this is SA because it is very exposing. Legal definitions aside, it was a very horrible and violating thing to do, obviously. I'm open to hearing thoughts, but please send them to my DMs, not in the comments here!

___

episode anon

congrats to me ik it isn’t that big of a deal but today i saw the “This episode contains (redacted) and may be upsetting for some readers.” and decided that I should not read the episode at that time.

I always thought that the TWs were for ppl with traumas or severe problems or phobias but today I decided that, yes, this thing upsets me and I probably shouldn't read it at 6:30 am

This IS a big deal! Trigger warnings are for everyone and you did amazing setting a healthy boundary for yourself! Awesome job!

____

first binder anon

hi!

so funny story i’m kinda out to my parents now

not entirely by choice

it’s kinda complicated, but my moms coworker basically used my new name to her (assuming she knew) because i’m friends with her son.

but it went ok enough

my parents were very nice about it, i think my mom was upset that her friend knew before she did and before i told her (which like— im not super happy about either) but like as far as these things go it went pretty well.

my binder hasn’t come yet (it’s supposed to come in 1-2 weeks, i think it was just shipped?) but i’m really excited!

- first binder anon

Hi! I'm so glad your parents reacted okay, but I'm really sorry the decision to come out was taken from you. That's really frustrating, no matter what the result was, and it's okay to feel upset about it.

Keep me updated, I can't wait to hear about the binder!

#asks #ask #ask cas #Outlet anon #outed anon #snape anon #episode anon #first binder anon

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