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simpee9000 · 2 months

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Not Just Friends - 6 -

M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : 5.5k words

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? Also not edited!! CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

"Photos have been released, of the two of you," you shared a look with Katsuki from across the table, "Together. At the camping resort you went to this previous weekend."

Katsuki's PR manager was in front of you. Arms placed on the table as she clasped her hands together. Face stern and hair slicked back into a ponytail. The definition of professional. The opposite of what you looked and felt right now. You've been sweating your ass off since you got told to come in.

"Are you sure they know it was us?" Katsuki fixed his posture, sitting up straight for the answer to his question. The two of you haven't necessarily came forward with your relationship, but you haven't been hiding it. Still, you preferred to not be public. Mainly to protect your work, everyone would discredit you if they knew you had personal ties to the number two pro hero that led beyond friendship. But also because you knew the danger, you were targeted enough as his best friend.

"Yes," she said bluntly.

"Maybe they didn't see me?" you voiced your hope aloud.

"Look, they know it was the both of you," she sighed, "We need to focus on how to fix this. It needs to be address before it gets worse, and it will get worse, so I suggest acting now."

"Can I see the fucking pictures?" Katsuki ordered, sick and tired of not knowing entirely what's going on.

She clicked away at her keyboard, turning her laptop to face you two. "This was posted by a couple that were there," she showed the photo Katsuki took with the couple that almost caught you at the pond. "And this," she clicked to a photo that showed the lake, "was posted as well. You can clearly see Chargebolt, Red Riot, and Cellophane. And in the background it is also easy to see the two of you being," she coughed, "intimate. They've been able to connect the dots that it was you that he was kissing," she looked at you, "With your connection with their class."

Your stomach dropped. Words just fell from your brain. You were used to the press but not for these reasons. Mainly just for your work, or how you made all number one, two and three top heros support gear and costumes.

"So what the fuck should we do?" Katsuki crossed his arms, face scrunched in thought.

"We need you to make a statement," she paused, prepared for Katsuki to snap. He hated making statements. When all he did was nod, she continued, "We need to do this quick before rumors catch wind." Both you and her were glad that he wasn't being difficult about this.

"What rumors can even be made?" you were curious how bad the drawback could be, trying to see if you could lessen the stress for you and Katsuki.

She looked at you, an apology on her face already, "It is already being said that you are using him to get to Deku, wanting to get the best pro heroes under you." You physically winced. "It is also being said you are cheating on Deku with Dynamight."

Katsuki scoffed, rooling his his eyes as he threw his hands up, "So what the fuck do I say? This is bullshit."

"I've arranged a interview for tonight, they'll ask about it there and you will give as much truth as you want. Talk about how long you've dated and the bond you two have, you need a united front," She explained, "Deku needs to also make a statement that you have not had any romantic relations," she turned to you.

"Of course, I'll call him now," you stood up from your chair, grabbing your phone. Knowing that he was terrible with emails and likely wouldn't notice anything happened until it was too late for the press. Too focus on crime and other heroic things.

"Good, tell him to do it as soon as possible," she instructed.

You squeezed Katsuki's shoulder on your way out, leaving him to discuss about what to talk about in the interview.

Dialing Izuku's number the second you closed the door, walking towards the stairway so you could walk off the stress as you made your way to Katsuki's office, the next floor up.

He answered when you opened the door to the stairway, "Whatssup?"

"I need a favor," you immediately started with.

"What's wrong," he asked concerned. You could hear the wind blowing through his phone, he was likely jumping his way back his office.

"Could you do an interview tonight or something?" you walked up the stairs while talking to him, letting your body move on autopilot and lead the way to Katsuki's office.

"For what?"

"Katsuki's and my relationship got leaked, picture proof and everything," you confessed, "Now there's rumors that I'm cheating on you or some shit." You ran the hand that wasn't holding the phone through your hair. Before dropping it to open the stairway door, keeping your head down as you walked through the office.

"So I need to clear the air?" he concluded, you could hear him land on a building, taking a break from jumping.

"Yes, please," you sighed, "Just talk about how we're best friends. I don't think you have to do an interview, I think a social post might help, ask your manager."

"Of course, I'm happy to help," he smiled, "How are you and Kacchan doing?"

"I'm a little rattled, I didn't think this would happen," you opened the door to Katsuki's office, briefly waving to his manager. "I don't know how Katsuki is doing, he's still with his PR manager."

Izuku laughed nervously, "He's going to kill me."

"It's not your fault," you reassured, "he knows how crazy the internet is." You stood in front of the window, it was a floor to ceiling window that captured the view of the city perfectly. "Uraraka won't be mad right?" you asked, you've never been close to her but you knew her and Z were together.

"No, she'll understand," Izuku confirmed.

"Good, I would of felt horrible," the weight on your shoulders was slowly lifting.

"Well, I should talk to my manager about what to do," Izuku said his goodbyes before he hung up.

It was only Tuesday and your week was already shit. Barely got through lunch before his manager told you to meet with PR. The city was still buzzing with life, unbothered by how much yours was changing. It felt weird, to know each of the small humans from this distant, had their own life and motivation.

"Hey."

You jumped from your spot near the window, "Asshat," you said clutching your heart.

"How are you doing?" Katsuki stepped into the office, letting the door fall shut as he walked to stand beside you.

"I've been better, you?" you looked at him, his face was still scrunched with thought.

"I'm annoyed," he said plainly, "The one fucking time we kiss in public and it's everywhere."

He crossed his arms, his elbow slightly bumping you from where he stood. You hummed your agreement, "When's your interview?" The both of you were looking out the window, trying to puzzle together how to avoid the drawback.

"Right after work, with fucking Heroes' Gossip," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, knowing how much he hated every part of this.

"Was gonna happen eventually," he sighed, "Is that nerd gonna help?"

You nodded, "Yeah, he might make a social media post or something, I told him to listen to his manager."

"Good," he said plainly, letting the conversation end.

Everything was going to change now, it'd be impossible to go back to normal now. With the grief of your old life already setting in, you rested your head on his shoulder. He'd be the one stable thing, even if it got rocky.

---

You had the interview pulled up on the TV, waiting for Heroes' Gossip to introduce him. They've been teasing a surprise guest the entire show, waiting until the last few minutes to bring him on. You've been dealing with the show for the past 40 minutes with no sign of him. It was nice to watch for once though, but it felt like you were intruding on some of the topics. They brought up Mirko's lovers and then talked about spotting Best Jeanist in and out of the hospital, automatically assuming he had a horrible disease. It made you feel gross to watch.

Wondering into the kitchen you grabbed a glass of wine, wanting something to help make the show a little less painful.

When you sat back down they finally announced for Katsuki to come on. Having him grumpily stomp on set until he sat down near the obnoxious interviewer.

"So, Dynamight," she addressed him head on, "There's been some photo's leaked of you and the tech genius," she announced your name to the world. You took a long sip, trying to shake the unease feeling for being known as someone who was with Dynamight rather than a tech genius. The interviewer displayed the pictures his PR manager showed you earlier on screen, "Is this you and her?"

"Yeah," he answered flatly.

"So you and her were making out at this lake, correct?" She pushed, surprised she got this far already.

"Yeah, what about it?" you could see that he was close to snapping, face furrowed entirely as his arms were crossed.

"Despite the claims of her and pro hero Deku being together?" the interviewer smiled, glad to see she was riling him up.

He rolled her eyes, "As if she'd date him."

"Is she not?"

"No, I've been dating her for three god damn years," he confessed to the public.

The interviewer blinked in surprise, quickly getting back onto the questions, "You're not concerned they are seeing each other behind your back?"

"I've known them both since I was five, they aren't like that," he answered simply.

"That also means that they have known each other that long, you're not worried about their connection?" she pushed for more, irritated that Katsuki wasn't lashing out like normal.

"Lemme prove it to you dumbasses," you cringed at his swearing, it wasn't good press for him to swear during interviews. He was grabbing his phone out of his pocket, quickly pressing buttons before he put the phone on speaker, letting everyone listen to it ring.

"Hey," Izuku's bubbly voice echoed through the mic.

"Are you fucking with my girlfriend?" Katsuki was straight to the point, likely not having warned Izuku of his plan before hand.

"No! Why would i do that?! You know that it is just the press going on right? Anything for a story-" before he could ramble on anymore, Katsuki hung up on him.

"See?"

"Well that doesn't prove much," the interviewer was at a lost for words at this point.

Knowing that Katsuki had a handle on this, you walked back to the kitchen, looking for something to eat. All the premade dinners were eaten already so you'd have to cook something from scratch. The voices from the TV faded from your mind as your rattled through the ingredients to use. Deciding on a fried rice. You pulled out the vegetables and placed them to the side as you set the rice to cook.

Your phone buzz and you answered without a thought, "Sup?"

"You fucking Deku?" you laughed at Katsuki's angry voice coming through your speaker. "Stop laughing dumbass."

"Sorry, I just saw you call him for the same thing. No, I am not. I'll say that on a truth quirk as well," you said absentmindedly cutting up the vegetables.

"Great! We'll have you come in soon to do just that," you heard the interviewer cheer though Katsuki's side of the phone.

Katsuki grumbled, "I'm fucking out of here." You could only assume he left the set, hearing him stomp off. "Hey dumbass," his voice was near the mic, clear he turned the call off speaker as his voice was quieter and less aggressive.

"Yeah?"

"That was stupid, my PR agent is going to scream at you."

"Why?"

"Going under a truth quirk on TV is dangerous, you know so much confidental shit," he explained.

"Oh fuck," you realized how much you could spill if someone asked about too much. You felt as if the genius quirk you had wasn't much help.

"I'll be home soon," he skipped past it, saving the conversation for when he could see you.

"Okay," you nodded despite him not being able to see you, "I'm making some fried rice by the way."

"Thanks, see ya."

"Bye."

You put your phone back down, grabbing the now cooked rice and mixing it with the vegetables in a pan. You looked over the mess of the kitchen. You dirtied an extra pan for eggs last second, knowing Katsuki loved the extra protein. Walking back to the living room, you grabbed the wine glass and filed it some more in the kitchen to drink as you mixed the rice.

The rice was getting to a good mixture, just needing to heat for a little longer, you grabbed the eggs and dumped them in with the rest of the rice and vegetable, setting the pan aside on the stove.

You heard the door knob slightly move, as if Katsuki was having issues with the key. You glanced at the time, he wouldn't be over for another ten or so minutes. Fear gripped at your chest. You moved the finished pan of rice to the corner of the stove, putting the empty pan on the heat.

Before you could think of anything else to do, you heard metal fall to the ground. Turning around quickly you saw the doorknob melting off with the remains of it on the floor.

Looking towards the figure in the doorway you saw a girl, around your age. Maybe a couple years older. She looked insane, it sent a chill up your spine at how similar her glare was to Toga's. Her eyes were a bright red, her hair a darker shade as she wore torn up clothes, burn holes all throughout. As if she just got out of a fight.

"The fuck are you doing?" you forced yourself to question.

"So you're the bitch Katsuki is dating?" she ignored your question.

"How did you get up here?" you knew that the apartment probably wasn't the most secure, but you and Katsuki never had time to move. Still, security was set in place. Blood dotted her outfit as well, the smell of burnt flesh radiating off her.

She ignored you again, stepping closer. "You know, Katsuki's going to love me right? Once your out of the picture."

You couldn't help the slight laugh that slipped from your lips. Maybe Katsuki's cocky energy affected you more than you thought.

Her eyes glowed, "That funny to you?"

She was about arms length away at this point, you reached your arm slowly behind you, grabbing onto the handle of the pan. "Kinda," you shrugged.

"Such a cunt," the girl all but screeched, eyes glowing red. From the damage on the doorknob it was clear she had some sort of heat vision. Before she could burn hole through you, you picked up the pan and swung at her. Burning the side of her face and causing her to stumble. Keeping yourself aware of her eyes, you reeled the pan back and hit her straight on, letting the edge of the pan fall into her eyes.

She quickly started to grab at you, cornering you into the stove, blinded by your hits but still intent on hurting you. Digging her nails into your arm. Scratching as she managed to grab ahold of your hand during her flailing around, forcing it down onto the hot stove and burning you.

Filled with a new rush of adrenalin, you grabbed onto her hair with your free hand, yanking her off your hand and pushing her face into the stove. You felt horrible as she screamed, your and her burnt flesh tainting the air with a foul smell. Ruining the stove top in the process. You scrambled away from her after holding her down for a moment, grabbing the knife you used the the vegetables only 20 minutes ago. Almost slipping due to the wine that was spilt from her flailing around the stove.

You stole a glance at the clock, still five more minutes till Katsuki was home. All you had to do was not die in those five minutes.

The girl was standing back up when you looked back at her. Face half burnt as she held a crazed look in her eyes.

"That knife won't do anything," she pushed, "I've done my research, you hardly have a quirk. Another reason you aren't worthy of him."

You weren't interested in talking to her, you just waiting for her next move. "You know, we could end this here. Just stop fighting and Katsuki will talk to you," you suggested, throwing the offer out to distract her.

"With you in the picture, he won't talk to me," she said frustratedly. Her eyes lighting up again, having recovered from the hit to them.

She aimed for your stomach, you move to the side and crouched, kicking at her locked knees, cringing at the snap of it. The hit on your stomach burned through a lot, the pain causing you to hold a hand on yourself. While you were trained to survive, you couldn't handle it. The blood, the pain, the guilt that already worked its way into your bones. She fell down with a yelp. Pulling you with her, before she could get her other hand on you, you stabbed one hand through a cabinet. You stood up as straight as possible, pressing your slipper covered foot onto her head, forcing her to face the cabinet and away from you. Placing your other foot onto her free hand so she couldn't grab at you.

You wheezed, clutching both hands at your side now, pain getting to you. The girl was crying now, "My face! He won't love me if I look deformed." Her heat vision flickered on and off, burning a hole through the bottom cabinet. Slowly destroying your home with Katsuki.

"Shut up," you hissed, stepping on her hand harder.

The injury was getting to you, it was mostly cauterized but her heat vision burned a good depth into your side.

Katsuki kicked the door fully open, snapping his head to look at you. You most of looked crazy. Wearing his shirt from high school, barely visible shorts, fuzzy Deku themed slippers and standing above a very injured girl while bleeding from the wound of your side.

He stepped towards you, lifting you off the girl and making you sit on the floor next to the door. "Cops were already called by the way," he answered your question before you thought of it. "They'll be up here soon." He walked back to the girl who was panting now, going into shock from the pain, something you think you shared with her. He cuffed her quickly, making her quirk shut off. You couldn't be more thankful that he wore his hero outfit home.

With the girl contained, he walked back to you, "Is it just your side?"

You nodded your head aggressively, in too much pain to form words. He lifted the side of your shirt, wincing before putting it back down. Moving to pick you up and carry you.

"I need to get you to the hospital," he claim.

"What about that girl?" you forced out, sucking in a deep breath after. Eyes getting fuzzy as you looked at him.

"She tired herself out," he confirmed, the girl passed out and you felt like doing the same. Eyes blinking without any of your control.

"Kats?"

"What?"

"It hurts," you were only speaking to stay awake, not wanting to scare him anymore then you knew he was.

"You'll be okay, I promise," his voice waivered as he moved through the hallways, you didn't even know where you were at this point. The background slowly turning into black until you blinked the rest of the image away.

---

Everything was too bright, too loud, too stale when you woke up. You couldn't even open your eyes but you were overwhelmed. You're mouth lacked any taste besides meticalic. Muffled voices came from somewhere in front of you, a room away likely. You braced yourself heavily before opening your eyes. Seeing Katsuki in a chair pulled up to your bedside, book in his left hand as his right hand held onto yours. Flipping a page by placing the book into his lap and using his left to flip it. Never once letting go.

The light blurred everything but him, you could only put together the fact that you were in the hospital. He was wearing his glasses, the ones he hardly wore unless he was stress. It was always harder for him to read when stressed, to lessen the strain, he wore the glasses.

"Bright," is what you decided to croak out, voice rough from sleep and likely screaming from the events. Everything was blurred already.

His basically jumped out of skin at the sound of your voice, letting the book fall from his lap as he stood up straight. Looking over you.

"Lights off," is what you groaned next, unable to keep your eyes open in the blare of it for long.

"Fuck sorry," he rushed to turn the light off before returning to your side. "How are you?"

You only looked around now, happy to be without the strain of the light. Your right hand was covered in bandages, from where the girl slammed it against the stove. With how bad it hurt, you worried for her face. Your left side was also heavily wrapped. She burned entirely through you, you remember how burned your walls were before you passed out. Multiple cabinets having holes in them. "Our home is all messed up," you focused on.

Katsuki let out a laugh, it was his laugh that showed you were being ridiculous, when you looked back up at him with a frown he returned it, "You can't be serious?"

"I am," you pouted, looking down at your hands, "She fucked it all up."

"Yeah and you put a dent in her for it," he followed.

"She put a dent in me too," you changed you focus to your stomach. Acknowledging the hole in your side

He gripped tighter onto the railing at the top of your hospital bed. "I had our stuff moved out," he spoke, saying he won't let that happened again without any words.

"Where will we live?" you looked back up at him.

"I bought it on a whim, the first day you were out," he looked apologetic, "I think you'll like it. Safer than that shithole."

You grabbed onto his hand, "Okay, anywhere is home with you."

"The drugs makin' ya loopy?" he smirk down at you, pointing fun at your cheesy line but holding onto your hand nonetheless, gripping on tighter.

"Maybe," you blushed, looking away for moment to think over the feeling. Drugs were definitely dampening the pain right now.

"How are you though? Took quite a hit," he looked at your stomach as well. It reminded you on how he first saw it, likely seeing straight through you. It's probably why he rushed you to the hospital right after.

"Hurts," you mumbled, not looking down but staring at him instead. Wanting your focus off the pain. Looking over how soft the glasses made him look. It was something you always wanted to admire but rarely got to. His face looked softer in the barely light room, just having the glow of the hallway lights shine in.

"Figures, you put up a fight."

"I almost died," you clarified.

"But you didn't," he was trying to focus on the positives, for both you and himself.

You recalled him saying the first day you were out earlier, "How long was I out?"

"Four days," he answered, "Not too long, you were just tired."

You hummed, "When can we go home?"

"I'd have to call the doctor in."

You nodded in permission for him to do so, letting him go alert them. With the quality of the room, you figured that he had you in a hero hospital.

The doctor walked in and asked you to stay an extra day, claiming a healing quirk will be able to help you before you left tomorrow. You reluctantly agreed, mainly from Katsuki cutting in and agreeing for you. It was obvious he felt guilt. From the way he held himself and the way he spoke.

When the doctor left, the two of you sat in silence. Soaking in each others presences.

"Is she okay?" you asked.

"Who?"

"Crazy bitch," you labeled her as.

He looked at you confused, "Yeah, in jail."

"So I didn't hurt her badly?" you were trying to relive some of the guilt.

"No, you did. Put a hole into her hand and burned her face," he confirmed, "Something you did to protect yourself."

"Then why do I feel bad?"

He sighed, grabbing at your hand again and looking you in your eyes, "Cause you always do, you'll probably feel guilty for a while. But trust me, you gave that bitch what she deserved and I'm so fuckin' glad you did."

"How's the press?" you switched topics. Not even remotely proud of yourself for burning a girl's face.

"Everything's settled, police still need your report though," he told you softly.

"Okay," you took in a deep breath, flinching at the pain going up your side. Ignoring Katsuki eyes looking at you in worry. Trying to patch your guilt away.

---

You peered through the apartment door after Katsuki unlocked it and walked through. Taking in the view of the apartment, a clear upgrade from the last. After kicking off your shoes you noticed the empty space to the right, a perfect spot for a living room. Windows from floor to ceiling and a sliding door to excess the balcony, with just enough space for a long wrap around couch to loop around. Snug in its own cube. The left side was a nicely sized kitchen with a dining table near the middle.

The security on the way up was worth the apartment, it was beautiful. It was a good sized apartment overall, perfect for you. There's a total of three bedrooms and three baths. You wondered for a moment about where Katsuki would choose his bedroom. Shoto also lived in this apartment complex, so you knew it was safe. The thought of Shoto's scar hurt your soul, he hated that scare and you gave a random girl the same if not worse.

"We need to buy new furniture for the living room," Katsuki cut into your thoughts.

"Why?" you turned to him confused, you didn't have a wrap around couch but he didn't know your ideas.

He coughed, knowing you hated the topic already, " Other one is burnt."

"Oh," you said sadly.

"I also can't get shit here until Tuesday. Takes a week for em," he barreled through the bad news, "You can look up a couch and I'll buy it."

"I already know the one I want," you looked back at the space, "I saw it Monday online, we can go check the stores to see if it's in stock? If not we can look."

"I don't think you should be doing all that walkin'," he furrowed his face in distaste.

"Too bad," you pushed past your injury, walking back outside the apartment after slipping your shoes on, "We have nowhere to sleep, we can get a couch and have a movie night. Wait, do we need a new TV?"

"Yeah, other one was shit anyway," he put his shoes on and followed you out reluctantly.

---

You pushed past all press, keeping your head down as you walked in front of Katsuki, his arms around you to keep from touching you. It was horrible, worse than it ever was. After your police statement was in, the press went crazy. Needing every detail possible. The entire furniture store had to shut down while you shopped, it made you thankful for Katsuki's job for once. He saved the owners before so they easily shut down for him. Finding your perfect couch was easy enough, wasn't the exact one you saw online but it was even better. While you found the couch, Katsuki got the TV, both set to be delivered to your apartment during the next three hours.

So you and Katsuki got lunch and stopped by his agency in the mean time, him needing to grab some paper work to go over the next few days. Kirishima's bright smile welcoming you the second you walked upstairs.

"Hey!" he greeted, arms stretched out for you. Hugging you gently. "How are you?" he held you back by your shoulders as he looked over you.

"Alright," you answered watching Katsuki walk into his office, "I hurt like a bitch though."

Kirishima laughed warmly, "No doubt, sorry that happened. What you did was super manly though."

You cringed, "I thought you left the manly thing in high school."

"I say it on rare occasions," he smiled down at you.

"Say what?" Katsuki asked as he closed his office behind him, joining you again.

"Manly," you answered, leaning into his space, feeling safe. He hummed in reply, smiling down at you briefly before looking back at Kirishima, crossing him arms.

"You got my patrols cover till Tuesday right?" Katsuki asked.

"Yeah, Denki, Sero, Mina, me and even Midoriya are all taking a chunk of your hours," Kirishima smiled brightly.

"Till Thursday?" you looked up confused, Katsuki hated time off.

Katsuki refused to look at you. LIstening as Kirishima talked, "You need a break and we got it covered, don't worry."

He rolled his eyes, "Send me every detail that happens, I'll be available if absolutely needed."

"Got it," Kirishima gave a toothy grin. Likely happy that he convince Katsuki to take time off in general. You weren't surprised at him being at the hospital, but taking a week off was unknown for him. Yet he seemed perfectly okay with it.

---

Once home, you noticed the fridge was fully stocked. Katsuki's premade meals filling the shelfs. Glad to see no fried rice. Fruit also filling the shelfs.

It was the first thing you went for when you got home, ignoring the wrapped up couch and TV and going for the food. Afterall, Katsuki would set up the TV fully. Needing to wall mount it.

With a premade meal in your hands, warm and ready to eat, you stood at the counter and watched him work.

"So I remember saying I'd do an interview with a truth quirk," you brought up after a while, Katsuki humming to continue from where we set up the TV. "How do I do that without giving up information?"

"Aizawa is probably willing to help, he'll monitor you and turn off the truth quirk person if they ask something sensitive. Still don't know why you said that," he answered, cursing at the TV when it didn't hook into the slot on the wall mount easily.

"Just want to clear my name," you took another bite of food as you watched him grin in victory at the TV being attached to the wall now. Him plugging it in and starting to log into all the streaming apps and everything.

You joined him after finishing your food, pushing a part of the couch into the spot you wanted. "The fuck are you doin?" he spun his head towards you at the sound of the couch moving. "I'll do it, just fuckin' point where to go."

After huffing at him, you stood in front of the TV, facing the couch and leading him to place each section of the couch. Cutting off the wrapping afterwards and sitting in front of the TV.

"What are we watching?" he called towards you, you were digging through the little amount of stuff that Katsuki pack for you two. It was clothes and blankets, all you'd need until Tuesday. It was already Saturday as well.

You plopped down a big blanket for you to share and sunk into the couch, "I don't know," you mumbled. Watching as he clicked onto your favorite movie right after.

"Hate when you say that," he grumbled.

"Yeah sure," you leaned into his side, wanting to be as close as possible to him. The scare of the break in still getting to you. He messed with his hand for a moment before laying his arm over your shoulders, pushing you closer to him. It was something both of you clearly needed. Just the warmth of the other.

-Next Part-

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dalamjisung · 1 month

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A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 2: He's not yours to keep

genre: more angst than fluff, but I swear fluff is coming up next!

word count: 5562

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you are trying to make sense of all this mess, but it's time to learn that, sometimes, things are just messy and chaotic and you have to learn to look for the silver linings.

a muted shade of green masterlist

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author's note: I am absolutely over the moon with the response I've gotten on this series and I'm really thankful for all the love and support <3 if you want to join the taglist for this series, please let me know in the comments!

You don’t usually dream.

Well, actually, if you tell Spencer that, he will say that you’re wrong– you do dream, you just don’t remember it. It’s common, not really recalling the scenes your brain conjure, Spencer would say; it can be due to a series of factors including high levels of stress and poor sleep. He would then tell you to stay home for a day, read a good book, and drink one of his fancy teas Penelope got for him a long time ago.

But the thing is, Spencer can’t really tell you any of it.

Not when you seem to be avoiding him even inside his own home.

It starts after you wake up still in his armchair, feeling exhausted and disgustingly sticky, you finally have a couple of moments to yourself. Spencer is still sleeping, and you’re actually surprised to see him stretched out on the couch– his tie is throw on his coffee table, the purple colour suddenly too bright in the dim apartment, but otherwise, still wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday. You don’t understand why he didn’t change into pyjamas, but then again, you don’t understand much of anything right now.

So you go through the facts.

One by one, you list them in your mind– and little by little it dawns on you just how bad this really is. It’s hard, conceptualising that this is reality; that you really do have a psychopath targeting you. It’s the kind of thing that you only saw in those TV shows you loved to binge on late night, the kind of thing you read on the newspaper, happening to other people, but never really you. Except, it is happening to you, and you are not sure what to do next. Do you just sit and wait for her to make a move? Do you continue to live your life normally? How? How are you supposed to ignore the fact that a, as Agent Hotchner had described her, ‘prolific serial killer’ might know who are?

“Oh my god,” You whisper to yourself, head falling in your hands. The watch on your wrist, an old, analogue thing your mom had given you before you left New York, is pointing to a time you would never have been awake before. 5:23 in the morning. The sun is not even up yet and you have hours before you have to open the store, but then again, you have to clean the mess that was left behind due to your rushed departure from it. You wince, disgusted at the thought of having to clean old vomit from the floor, and disgusted with the bitter taste it left behind. Right now, you are a shell of a human being and you need to get yourself back together.

You follow a familiar routine of recovery. It’s something you’ve done before and something you will surely have to do again, and it all starts with a simple list.

Firstly, you need to get up. You need to stretch your legs, throw them to the side, and stand. You need to walk, remind your self that you can still make your own path even if it’s only to the bathroom down the hall.

Then, you need to brush your teeth. The bitter taste stuck to your mouth makes you wince with memories that you want to bury.

Showering would be your third step, but this is not your home. This is not your space, and these are not your things.

A pettier side of you, one that is bothered and angry and irritated in a superficial level, wants to march back out to the living room, as loudly as you can, and shake Spencer away. You want to wake him up at the crack of dawn and make him share your torment, because in some level, even if you try to push against it, you blame him. Deep inside, you know that there is a big difference between the two– between blaming him and it being his fault. One is purposeful, conscious; it’s a decision you take and lay on his head. If you blame him, you commit yourself to hate him. The latter, however, is a fact. It’s irrefutable and immutable as the fact that you need air to live. It is his fault, but it was not his goal.

“He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault,” You whisper to yourself, pushing yourself off the sink to try and figure out his shower. It is his house, that’s a fact. But you also deserve a nice, warm shower, and that is another fact. He pushed you to come stay with him, so you need to also push yourself to feel comfortable in this space that feels so foreign to your senses. “He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault.”

The words become your mantra. He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault. Somewhere in you, you know you have what it takes to forgive, but you just don’t have what it’s needed to forget. By repeating those words, you allow your brain to slowly process this situation as what it is– something that happened because of him, but not by him. As much as you want someone to blame, someone to scream at, Spencer Reid just isn’t that person.

It takes you a moment to realise you don’t really have a towel or any of your products here, and using Spencer’s shampoo just feels… odd. Like an invasion of his space almost. “Oh thank god for you, Spencer,” You sighed, happy to see the pairing of shampoo and conditioner sitting perfectly on the corner. His hair had been one of the first things you noticed about him, all chestnut and shaggy and longish, but you are aware that not every man knows the basic of self-care. There is something about the way his smell takes over the bathroom, floating with the evaporation of the warm water hitting your skin, makes you smile. You feel closer to Spencer than you’ve ever been, and that is when your sense of danger hits. Your heart starts speeding, and your breathing is suddenly really shallow, and you’re trying to come out of the shower, to breathe in cold air, but all you get is humid mist and you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe at all, you can’t–

“Spencer!” You gasp, eyes wide in desperation once your legs feel like they might just give out. Scrambling to hold yourself up, your hands knock over some things in the counter, making more noise on top of the running shower. “SPENCER!”

“What? What? What– oh my god,” The door slams against the wall and back, almost hitting him on the side when he crouched down next to your naked, curled up body. It’s quite unnatural for you to witness, him jumping into action so fast, like he is trained to make these decisions in a split second. But then you remember that he actually is trained to make these quick choices– like grabbing the towel before anything else, covering you without a single quip about your nakedness; like sitting you up and putting your back against the wall; like turning off the shower and sitting back down right next to you, breathing deeply and loudly. It’s unconscious, how you let your breathing fall in line with his, and it takes a moment to realise he’s doing this on purpose. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“No,” You whisper, shaking from either the cold or the nerves or both. There are goosebumps all over your legs, the towel not covering you much from the top of your thighs down. “Spencer, I’m not okay. I’m… Until yesterday, you were just the adorable guy who shared my love for books. Y-You’d come into the store smiling and we’d talk and talk and– and now I have a serial killer possibly tracking me. How am I supposed to be okay? I’m so scared… oh god, I’m so scared, Spencer…” The one thing you are proud, amidst your utter embarrassment, is that you are not crying anymore. You still sound a bit rough, throat tired and hurting, and there is no energy left in you and he can hear that, you know he can, because when your voice echoes in the silent bathroom, kicking from wall to wall, you hear it too– the exhaustion and the numbness and the emptiness left behind.

“I-I’m still that guy,” He stutters, head falling down in shame but voice still twinged with something resembling hope. “I love books. I love talking to you about books, I love going to your store first thing in the morning. I’m still this guy, I just… I just happen to work for the FBI.”

“Yeah, but I… I think that after having my life turned upside down because of a serial killer who has a crush on you, I’m just not that same girl.”

That is the last time you talk to him that day.

—————————————

Actually, that was the last time you talked to him that entire week.

After he dropped you at the store that day and you were forced to face the embarrassing remnants of your lowest moment in life, moping old vomit from the floor, that feeling of turmoil in your chest died down. It settled. And it hardened.

He tried making conversation on the walk back to his, but you’re clearly not up for it, so his voice slowed down, getting lower and lower, until it stopped altogether. This time, you shower before bed and make a beeline to the armchair again, letting Spencer’s begs and pleas for you to sleep on the bed fall in deft ears.

For five days, you two don’t talk.

It’s a dance of chaos, how you step around each other at the apartment, and seeing him biting his words back or catching a glimpse of the bags under his eyes makes you feel guilty; of course it does. But you know that you can’t help him right now. Even if you were to forgive him, to force your mercy onto the situation, it wouldn’t be genuine. It would give him a false sense of relief while you’d forever be uncomfortable next to him, and you don’t want that. You don’t want to feel on edge next to Spencer, you don’t want to feel nauseous and scared when you’re with him. You want to talk about books and coffee and favourite places to order take out from. Instead, all you get to do is talk about her.

It would be a lie to say you don’t feel slightly jealous with the way that his mind seems to be so wrapped around Cat Adams. The imposed talking ban is hard on you both, that much you know, but the more Spencer let it happen, the more he let it stretch out and continue, the more you feel like maybe he doesn’t care that much. Maybe what is hard for him is the awkward tension trapped in his own apartment, rather than the pain of seeing each other so close yet not being able to laugh like you used to. And you know– you know how ridiculous your thought are, how childish you’re acting, but you can’t really blame yourself for being so on edge lately, not when your emotions are so zip and zapping through your body like thunder and lightening.

There are exceptions, though. In this case three exceptions, three moments in a day in which he brakes the ban, and you, for once, allow yourself some weakness.

“Good morning,” Is moment one. He says that every day, when he blinks himself awake on the couch. Ever since you’ve been there, a total of six days now, Spencer has slept on the couch, right next to the armchair you’ve claimed as your own. For these, you meet his eyes and nod, as if saying same to you.

Breakfast is quiet. He makes coffee and you make eggs, because despite you being there under forced circumstances, you are not going to be ungrateful and so you pay him back by getting groceries and cooking most meals. Which leads you to exception number two– the moment when he drops you at the bookstore.

You two walk there at 8 and he’s gone by 8:07, giving you enough time to mumble a “Be safe,” and give him his lunch for the day. He tried telling you that you didn’t have to cook for him, but you don’t really listen. As pathetic as it seems, this is the one way you’ve found to keep what you two had before, alive.

The third exception is the one that truly breaks your heart, again and again. It’s when he gets home, and he looks exhausted, and his hands fidget with the files he holds close to his chest. You are the first thing he looks for, and you almost melt at the way his shoulders visibly relax when he spots you– always ready for bed, always in the armchair. He stopped trying to come get you at the bookstore at night once you’ve agreed to let the officers walk you home. The spare key he added to your keychain should hold a bigger meaning than it does, though it feels like it does hold a bigger weight. A means to an end, you tell yourself every time you unlock his front door. This is just a means to an end. “Thank you,” he will then say, before he even moves to the kitchen to see whatever it was on the plate you had made and set in the microwave for him. “And good night.” By then, you’re already semi-asleep and you don’t really say anything.

You never thought you would miss these forbidden exceptions when they’re gone.

You know that travel is a big part of Spencer’s job, but with all that is going on, you never really considered the fact that he might need to leave for a few days. At least not until he calls you, right before you lock the store. The irregularity of it all has you scrambling to pick it up. “Spencer?” You barely whisper, voice cracking in half as little by little, you freeze up. The sensation is like ice running through your veins, burning it’s way to your heart until it makes it stop. “Spencer? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” He quickly answers, voice rushed in a way that makes you relax. He always talks fast and you find it incredibly endearing, even during these times apart. “I’m okay, it’s okay. I’m calling because we got a case.”

“Uh, okay?”

“Y/N, that means they need us in Ohio. Today.” He seems almost hesitant to tell you he needs to leave the state.

And you are as hesitant to accept it. “Oh,” You mumble, suddenly needing to making sure the officer assigned to you is still outside and ready to go. “Okay. Do… Do you need clothes or something?”

Spencer’s chuckle almost makes it all okay. Almost. “No, thank you. I just– I want you to be comfortable, okay? Feel free to sleep in my bed and do anything you want to do, I don’t mind! Feel at home! Just… be comfortable.”

For a second you nod, forgetting he can’t see you right now. “Okay. Thank you.”

“And Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You started biting your nails when you were twelve and middle school was kicking your ass. To this day, right now, you still bite them when you’re nervous.

“It’s good hearing your voice.”

Going home and knowing he won’t be there is not as comforting as you thought it could be. The two of you are not speaking and the constant walking on egg shells does get tiring, so you try to rationalise this as something that is just not that bad. Maybe Spencer going on his mysterious trips is not that bad anymore. Before, your curiosity was your downfall– you worried he had gotten sick or worse. However, you don’t think knowing the truth is much better. The nature of his job is incredibly dangerous, and you don’t even know much about it. Now, you still worry, that much hasn’t changed. What has changed, though, is that getting sick would be considered lucky. Right now, you worried about the ‘or worse’.

Your mom’s voice fills the empty space for a while. She texted you a couple of days ago and you just now got around to calling. “Sweetheart, how do we switch to video again? I want to see your face.” Alarm bells sound off in your mind and you immediately shut down the idea. “Sorry mom, I can’t right now. I’ll video call you tomorrow, okay? I’m cooking dinner right now.” Her worry is that of a mother, comforting like a blanket and familiar like a home. It is not, though, the worry you want.

For obvious reasons, you don’t tell her what’s going on, much rather preferring to tell her about the mundane things that keep you going. “And I sold out of the book!” You say, a short-lived excitement running through you. “It’s quite exciting, mom– since I opened the shop I have never sold out of anything! This is a first!”

“That’s amazing, sweetie!” She says, and you can’t help but wonder how Spencer would’ve reacted to the news if he was there. It’s only then that you realise you’re halfway through making him a plate for when he comes home, except he won’t be back until the case is complete and you gulp, too aware of the common noises you hear around you.

This is when you realise how much you miss you Spencer. And how much, even if unconsciously, he makes you feel comfortable and safe. You thought it was the apartment, but now, by yourself, laying on the armchair yet again, you feel vulnerable and exposed. Footsteps can be heard from time to time, neighbours getting home or leaving for the night, and every time, without a fault, you hold your breath and wait. Maybe the door will open and she will be there, or maybe it will be another delivery. God, it could be anything– a letter, flowers, another box. Knowing that Cat Adams had such easy access to Spencer’s apartment is enough to get you up and running to his room.

Green. The walls are green, muted and cozy, and you smile even when your eyes sting with tears. There is a hole in your heart right now and it’s Spencer shaped. “God,” You groan, rubbing your tears clean so aggressively that it hurts. “When did things get so fucked up?”

There’s no real answer to that, and you if you think any longer about this, your brain might just implode. For now, all you need is to sleep, but that won’t happen for a while; not with the way your heart speeds up at every crackle coming from his old, metal heather. Still, the chill air of Autumn seeps in through the walls, and you shiver. I want you to be comfortable, Spencer had said before leaving, and you might be crossing some boundaries right now, but you need him close to feel comfortable. You might not be able to get him, but the next best thing you have right now is one of his sweaters, and you have no qualms about opening his wardrobe and grabbing the first thing you find. Ironically enough, it’s an FBI Academy hoodie, though you can’t really imagine Spencer and all his formal glory in a hoodie. You put it on, nonetheless, shutting the door with your foot and just as you turn around, your eyes catch sight of something. Something big, and beige, and bone chilling.

The box.

In the heat of the moment, you simply thought he had throw it away. Hell, it would’ve made sense to throw it away! What the fuck was that box doing there…? With a shaky breath, you open the wardrobe door again, hoping, praying, that you were actually hallucinating and that what you saw was nothing but a shoe box or a bag. “God, please, be a bag, be a bag…” Safe to say, your words are in vain. “Fuck, Spencer, what is wrong with you?”

You’re shaking when you pull the box out of its hiding place, breathing shallow and fast. Reason escapes you as you quickly open it, not worried about how it was or even about putting it back in place; if it was up to you, this box would’ve been gone a long time ago. Clearly, it had not been up to you. “Oh my god, I’m going to be sick.”

Expectations are a tricky thing to deal with. When it comes to your life, you never expected anything big. You know your limitation better than anyone and the largest you’ve dreamt before was the store. You didn’t expect an FBI agent. You didn’t expect a serial killer. And you certainly didn’t expect a box full of sex toys. “What the…” You don’t want to touch them, not with your bare hands, but it looks like there are tens of toys in there, varying in shapes and sizes and colours. It makes you wonder… last he told you, her games are psychological and manipulative. From what you are seeing, though, this is incredibly physical. This is about touch and intimacy and… fuck. This is about connection. You don’t have to be a profiler to know that, not when you are so secretive about your own toys, hidden in the back of your besides drawer away from unwanted eyes. It’s a private thing, and only people you trusted, people you let into your life, knew about them.

Before you know what you’re doing, you rush to find your phone. It’s somewhere in the house, and you need to find it, you need to call him. “Pick up,” You whisper when you finally find it in the living room, under your favourite blanket on the chair. Even your fingers are shaking, vision a bit blurred from the adrenaline rushing through you– you feel like you’re in danger, and you don’t know what to do. “Spence, pick up, pick up, please pick up–“

“Hello?” You almost cry when you hear his raspy voice on the other side. It doesn’t make you feel any better to think that you might just have woken him up.

“Spencer,” You whine, embarrass with how needy you sound. The nice officer that brought you home is standing outside the door, and you could’ve gone to him– could’ve opened the door, asked him to stay inside, talk to him a little. Or you could’ve called Penelope. She had given you her number with promises that more often then not, she stayed behind to work from the BAU office. There is no place safer than my office, she had promised you, but how do you tell her that the problem is not your environment, it’s not where you are or what you’re doing… how do you tell her that the problem is you? She might not understand it so you don’t even dare try to explain it. You don’t dare to give her and the team this part of yourself too and you shut your mouth with a firm hand over your lips.

Memories of a life you left behind flash behind your eyes, and you whimper, hugging your knees to your chest while you hear him desperately calling for you. As far as you can, you kick that godforsaken box away from you. “Y/N?! Y/N, say something, please! Are you okay? Y/N!”

“I’m here,” You whisper, pushing your hair away from your face. “I’m here.’

“What’s going on?”

“Spencer, I–” A moment of regret and hesitation makes you pause. What can he even do all the way from Ohio? “I want to go home.”

You’re not his priority.

You’ll never be his priority.

There is no point to this.

“…did something happen?” This is the Spencer you know– voice soft and guarded– and for a second it feels like you two are getting to know each other all over again. “Did officer Kaper make you uncomfortable? I’ll ask for a change of guard, I’ll–“

“N-No,” You cut him off with a shaky exhale. Your head falls on your free hand, finger tangled with your messy hair, and you tug on it. Sharply, the tingly pain on your scalp grounds you for a second, brings you back to this situation you created. “No, Spence, no no no, I just want to go home, I need to go home, I–“

“Y/N, breathe,” He coaches you as gently as he can, voice stable and strong, everything you seem to be lacking. “You’re going to set yourself off in a panic again if you don’t breathe. You’re safe in my apartment, okay? I know it’s not the same as being home, I know, but you’re safe there!”

“You’re not here, Spence!”

There is a moment of silence for both of you. “You’re not here and you didn’t throw that fucking box away,” You whisper, keeping the moment something in between just the two of you. It’s enough that you are falling apart like this in front of Spencer, you don’t need officer Kaper bursting in the door to witness this too.

“You found the box,” He sighs. This is the first time you notice just how tired he sounds.

“I found the box,” You confirm, sniffling in a stubborn attempt to not start crying all over again.

“It’s evidence. I can’t throw it away, Y/N.”

“Why is it here?”

“I’ve been working on the case on my free time and it just made sense to keep it at home…”

“Spence, I want to go home. I don’t feel safe,” You admit, shaking your head. “I don’t feel safe here when you’re not here, Spence, I want to go home.”

“I thought you hated me.”

“Spencer…” He has a point, though, and you know it. This is the first time you two speak in days, the first time you experience this type of comfort again, but it’s still not enough. He’s still not here, next to you, watching over you. He’s still not with you. “Spencer, I’m sorry.”

“Silly girl, why are you apologising?” He asks, chuckling on the other side and you can picture him– you can see him shaking his head, hair falling around his pretty face like a perfect picture frame when his eyes, pure honey with specks of green, search for yours. Yeah… you can imagine it to perfection, almost like you are the one with eidetic memory. “This is all my fault. And I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Y/N and I’m trying to protect you, so I need you to stay there, okay? I need you to stay in my apartment, please.”

You don’t know what to tell him. Your eyes wander around the room, looking at all the details he left behind without even noticing. There is a copy of Dostoevsky on the bed side table. I hate Russian literature, you remember telling him once. He was in the shop, bringing you coffee, when you caught a glimpse of a book you certainly didn’t sell him. And I’m appalled you’ve been buying books somewhere else. The way he laughed then, like his biggest problem in the world was explaining to you that this had been a gift from a friend and that he would never betray your trust like this. What do you hate so much about it?, he had asked, leaning over the counter and into you, eager to debate this topic he loved so much. I hate that it’s all about suffering. Even the moments of realisation and self-improvement, they are all through suffering and misery. And of course he had a retort to that, fingers twitching with his enthusiasm. But it’s contextual, you see! Those were written in time of civil unrest and political chaos, and it makes sense to have characters and plot lines that revolve around suffering when that is all you know from the world around you. To this day, your answer paralyses you. I’m a believer in silver linings and happy endings. And not because I’m naive or ignorant, but because the world around me has made me believe that there must be something better out there. Isn’t that nicer?

“Y/N, please tell me you’ll stay there, I need you to stay there.”

His words almost escape you, but you catch them in the very last minute. It gives you a glimpse into a side of him he has yet to show you, and it absolutely shatters your heart in bits. I need you to stay there, he had said. Not you need to stay there, but I need you to stay there. Suddenly, you realise that this– all of this, the relocation, the involvement of the FBI, the dropping off and picking up– is not just for you.

“I’ll stay here,” Whispering with him like this helps. “I’ll stay. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t be. I’m happy you called.”

“I’ll let you go back to sleep, but Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“Be safe. I need you back here.”

“I’ll be home in no time.”

For a second, you trust him. You trust everything will be okay, that you can make everything okay until he gets back, and then you’ll pass the responsibility onto him. For a second, you trust him, but you also trust yourself.

Everything will be okay.

You fall asleep like this; wearing his hoodie and hugging your phone, nose buried on his pillow in hopes to dream of him. The sun wakes you up, and there are birds chirping at your window. Despite the heaviness you feel in you and dooming headache you know will settle soon, the romantic in you believes that today will be a good day. That today will be an okay day.

“Miss Y/L/N? It’s officer Kaper.”

The knock doesn’t scare you anymore. On days one through three it had you jumping on air, heart about to stop from how fast it was beating. Days four and five were easier, less scary and more anxious, waiting for the punctual 9AM knock. From day six onwards, it was a welcome start to your day, knowing that someone is looking after you.

You check the fisheye like Spencer told you to, and then you open the door only when you recognise the face on the other side. “Good morning, Officer,” You smile, nodding at him a bit stiffly. The two of you had been formally introduced by JJ, but it didn’t make this any less awkward for you. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Sure,” He nods, smiling as he comes inside with his usual stack of mail. Everyday, without fail, someone picks up your mail and brings it to Officer Kaper. “Here’s your mail for the day, ma’am.”

“How was the night shift?” It’s almost like a scripted conversation, these back and forth questions you throw at each other, and you’re finding that you hate this. You hate the stiff conversations and the self-imposed bans. But this is day two, and in just more two days, Spencer would be home. And you would talk to him, just like you used to before, just like you did over the phone. Nothing will change; you’re not going home any time soon and Cat Adams isn’t going to just magically disappear. It’s time to accept it and learn how to live with it, as hard as that sounds.

Sifting through your mail has to be your favourite part of the day. It’s normal, slightly boring, and a peek into the routine you used to have and love. No one ever sends you letters, so it’s just bills. “Water, electricity, marketing, marketing,” The coffee is brewing in the background and Officer Kaper is telling you about his daughter. She’s a tiny girl, just two and very, very shy, but apparently, she loves stories. “I might have a book for her,” You get distracted from the letters for a second, smiling at the kind officer. “I’ll bring it to you later tonight!”

When you look back again, it’s the one on top.

The envelope is white, like any other letter, and it has no thing in the back but your name and address scribbled in red, a big heart right next to it. “Uh, Officer, this is… this is weird.” You’ve been instructed to let someone know if you received anything unlabelled or unexpected. This letter is certainly unexpected. “It has no return address.”

“May I open it?” He asks and you nod. He opens it with a knife, pulling a small piece of paper inside. “Okay, it seems like a normal letter. There is no signature of any kind.”

“What does it say?” You’re nervous now, walking around Officer Kaper to read over his shoulder. “Oh my god.”

“Does this mean anything to you?”

Nodding, you’re dialling Spencer’s number already. “It means I’m fucked.”

On the table, laid a message you’d never forget.

He’s not yours to keep.

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

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adventures-in-mangaland · 3 months

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Dead Boy Detectives: Fic Recs

My latest hyperfixation is Dead Boy Detectives, so oc I've been reading and commenting on a ton of fic. And it's been really nice because the response of the authors has been so warm. I don't think I've ever gotten so many replies so quickly! Also, the fandom has inspired me to actually start writing again for the first time in two years and I've got a great idea for a fanvid. (Any tips on how to make one would be appreciated! 😅)

So in tribute to the lovely fandom, here's a fic rec post (nearly all payneland):

in this city there's a thousand things I want to say to you by laiqualaurelote

Edwin has a sexual awakening and it blows Charles' mind. And other things. Very funny and well written. Also features minor Edwin/Cat King and Edwardian flirting.

I also highly recommend the saviour of the broken, the beaten, and the damned by the same author, which is a kind of multiverse!Edwin fic? Featuring Edwin dying? And Niko time travelling? Trying to save time? Anyway, interesting to see Edwin alive, ageing and in different periods of time/his life.

For the First Time Twice by MmmCookies

Amnesia fic! Charles loses his memories and thinks he and Edwin are married. Very cute (tandem bike date!) and well written, though Edwin's point of view still manages to be angsty. Also, the yearning is off the charts and the most recent chapter turned up the heat.

I guess you're stuck with me by Punny_Puck

AU in which Edwin and Charles actually got married pre-show. Funny, cute with a sweet marriage proposal prequel. Instant comfort fic.

Dance the Night by Gruoch

The gang are hunting an energy-sucking vampire that targets beautiful people, so naturally Edwin MUST disguise himself as the hottest girl in London. This one starts out fun and campy then takes a hard left turn into Serious Business. Prepare yourself for emotional moments, worldbuilding and some really excellent horror.

Long Past Time by sanctuary_for_all

Charles proposes to Edwin post canon. It's a short and sweet established relationship fic with some cool worldbuilding about ghosts and their ability to shape their clothing/appearances.

lay my hands on heaven by Opossum_Subatomic

I had to include a PWP and this is a great one. Extremely well written, in character and romantic. And explicit, obviously.

Data Points by Asidian

Edwin learns to cuddle. It's a production and completely adorable. I love a fic that explores the difference between the boys' physicality and this one's really on point. The writing and characterisation are great and it's nice to see Edwin taking care of Charles.

I also recommend Lanterns In the Dark, which sets the scene for Charles and Edwin's first meeting with some gut-wrenching details about Charles' homelife and Edwin's escape from Hell.

When I Was a Young Boy by flowerbritts

A Good Omens crossover and AU in which Aziraphale is Edwin's adopted father. Family reunions and revelations abound. Also, Edwin gets to be a teenager and slam doors while shouting, as he deserves.

The author has also written Wait, I'm Coming Too, which is a very sweet post canon 'Charles Worries About Edwin and Realises His Feelings' fic inspired by that 'Edwin reading Heartstopper' fanart. Both fics deserve more love!

A Slight Miscalculation by kantigone

Idiots in Love and Didn't Know They Were Dating. Crystal and Niko are the real MVPs, for real. A treat.

Terrible at Keeping Secrets (5+1) by ASingularSadSoggyPringle

Interesting demon!Edwin AU. Charles is a precious cupcake in this fic and Edwin is mostly the same with some Darker moments. I loved the concept and the author adds in some great, creepy details.

somaesthesia by perexcri

Edwin's journey from being touch-averse to touch-starved... at least when it comes to Charles. Palmistry is involved. I loved Edwin's characterisation and the unresolved sexual/romantic tension was on point.

And possibly I like the thrill (of under me you quite so new) by Leandra

Edwin explores his sexuality and re-negotiates his relationship with Charles. Meanwhile, the gang take on the case of a ghost who wants them to matchmake his still-living lover. Crosses over with The Sandman. And Edwin gets to be confident and flirty as a treat.

Always by How You Doing (FancyMeetingYouHere)

Hurt/Comfort fic in which Edwin has a traumatic flashback to the doll-head demon spider and Charles looks after him. Charles reading Good Omens to Edwin is a nice, meta touch.

Made You Look by Baby_Spinach

The agency are hunting an incubus that decides to take on Edwin's appearance. A repression explosion ensues. Fun fic.

Shape Me by dearheartdont

This one's actually a character study of Charles and his mixed race Indian heritage (so no Edwin) and it's so well done. It's also part of a series in progress about Charles growing up in the 80s with all the racism and homophobia that that entails. I look forward to seeing where it goes.

The Most Tender Place In My Heart by coloursflyaway

Edwin shares memories of how he fell in love with Charles, who figures out his own feelings in the process. It's super sweet and involves fun pre-show flashbacks and defintely deserves more attention!

I also loved Won't Fear Love by the same author, in which Charles takes Edwin out on dates and breaks the cuteness scales. And shout out to Good Enough which is the first fic I bookmarked for this fandom! 🥳

Anyway, thank you to all these amazing writers for making this fandom so special! 🥰

#dead boy detectives #fic recs #payneland #edwin payne #charles rowland #fic rec friday #fanfiction #dbda fic recs #my fic recs #paineland #chedwin #charles x edwin #payneland fic recs

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hidden-poet · 8 months

Text

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit.

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

chapter Four

You got the shoe back to the grieving mother. Helped her bury it before you got home and rested your tired eyes.

It was over. He let you leave.

But a pestering feeling told you that it wasn't true. That instead you had just painted a target on you back.

You walked to work the next morning with the same feeling. You tried to shake it. Peacekeepers would have knocked down your door last night if he ordered. He wasn't going to grab you now. It was over.

But as you saw you boss guarding the entrance to work, you knew it wasn't.

You tried to pass her anyway. maybe commander Snow had taken the Panems back off her and all she wanted from you was payback.

You reach the bottom of the steps but your boss blocks the entry to your work. Dread pools your stomach. Without this job, you and your mum don't eat.

She was only 5-foot but her fiery personality, and dark features made up for her short frame.

"I never thought you were stupid" she spat.

"I've got to get to work".

She steps forward to stop you, "You already know there's no work here for you".

"Six years I've worked for you. Never turned up late. Never took a day off. And now with a click of his fingers you wanna toss me aside? I never thought you were a coward". You snap back.

In the six years you worked for her you never rose your voice at her. Always gave in to her demands to work late, do something outside of your job description.

"Anyone not a coward to Commander Snow is dead. You're looking to end up the same way".

"Commander Snow!" you heard a voice holler from behind the door. She popped her head out to show Vanessa. She was a pretty girl with long red hair and blue eyes.

"I heard you were receiving parcels from a peacekeeper but from Commander Snow! God. I'd let that man root me for free".

"Get to work" Your boss snaps, and Vanessa disappears behind the screen doors. Her laughter following her.

Now sensing sympathy for her loyal worker, your boss takes the journey down the steps coming up beside you, and placing her hands on your shoulders.

''Can i give you a piece of advice; men love the chase but hate the catch''.

You pull back from her stunned that she would suggest such a thing to you.

"It could be worse" She continues, "Uglier men. Men who take with nothing in return. He could prove to be useful to your survival".

You shake your head no. You had never even flirted before. You were so timid, you needed someone gentle and kind for your first time. Coriolanus Snow was no such man.

Your boss nods back understanding your temperament.

"Maybe he will bore" She tries.

"He will". Your voice was shaky and unsure.

"Good luck until then". Your boss turns from you and walks back up the stairs.

You feel your chest tighten as you turn and walk home. You still had two panams that would keep the house afloat for at least two months on a stingy budget.

But you were unsure how much patience that the commander had. Could he outlast you. Would his infatuation run you dry in time. What then if not?

Your mother wage could cover the rent but not much more. You had a few candles, a few sellable things. But who would buy them for what they were worth. Had Coriolanus got the message to all the community that you were to suffer.

You move past people in the opposite direction going to work as you walked. You kept your head down ashamed until you made it to your gate.

Only the opened letterbox lifted your sprits. You reach in pulling out a thin letter with a re-attached capital seal. Your brother had always been resourceful and smart. The letter would not have even left district 8 if not for the seal.

You peel it off carefully, planning to re-attach it once you had enough money to send the letter back.

The letter itself did nothing for your confidence.

The first line demanded to know why your letter had a capital seal. He called you silly if you stole it, and stupid if you traded for it. He reprimanded you for sending the coins which he sent back. He was fine in district 8 and didn't need any help. You only had one job; look after yourself and look after mum. It seemed to him you were failing, consorting with Peacekeepers. If he was still around he would smack you until you saw sense. Stay away from Peacekeepers and look after yourself, the last line read,

I love you, Archie.

You fold the letter, keeping the coins in your hand. He always knew what to do even if he had no idea about the circumstances. You thumb the place where your ring was suppose to be, wishing you fought harder to keep it.

The door was already unlocked as you reached it and you called out surprised.

"Mum?".

You hear cries coming from her bedroom and you rush to get to her.

"Mum!" you call again.

"Bernard fired me" She sobbed on her bed. You sit on the edge and pat her back.

"Mum, I am so sorry. This is all my fault".

She doesn't deny it but places a warm hand on your knee.

"We're going to be ok. It won't last forever" You console. You were going to beat him at his own game. You could endure, you've been doing it all your life.

"Look what Archie sent" You showed her the coins in you palm. She smiles at you through her tears and you smile back.

You would endure.

He would bore.

You hold your Saturday market stall using the last of your ingredients.

You had only just started but sold four cakes already. You smile brightly at your customer passing him the brown bag. But he doesn't take it, scurrying off.

The Peacekeeper coming up explains it. He picks up a cake and expects it before throwing it to the ground. Four more peacekeepers come up, and start going through your things.

You stand still with the bag pressed to your chest. You wanted to protest but interfering with peacekeeper work was punishable by whip.

You watch as they turn violent. Throwing over your table and stomping on the baked goods. They kick at your things until they break.

You watch them as he watched you.

You hadn't realized he was there until one of the peacekeepers addressed him asking what was to be done about your money box.

His blue eyes remained on you. "Take it".

All of your days profit and your change was taken.

He stands tall in his commanders uniform, his hat upon his head, and hands in his pocket as the peacekeepers left a mess.

You stare at each other until he calls them off. There was nothing left to destroy. Their time there was now wasted.

He takes a step to you as they went back to the van through the parted audience.

You expected him to say something as he nears but his lips never parted. Instead he takes the brown bag from your hands and follows his men to the van.

You stare at your ruined things but don't cry. It was going to take more than that.

You were going to endure.

You got some work on the side doing laundry. Your clients underpaid you and you had to deliver in the dead of night, but the supplement income took the pressure off.

You had to rebuild your stall, but now that word got out that Commander Snow had it out for you everything tripled in price. No one was willing to be labeled a traitor by him for the going rate of materials.

Food was also tripled. But you didn't tell your mother that. Choosing to tell her you had a reduced appetite given the circumstances.

You had found a macadamia tree behind a row of houses to pick from. You went late afternoon to avoid being seen as you tried and fill your belly.

You stood there now. Plucking the small nuts off the large tree. You had to climb the base, already have taken the lower hanging offerings. You deshelled some, putting them in a pouch for the walk home.

You had been there for nearly an hour but your basket was only a quarter full. It would take another hour to crack all the nuts out of their shells before you could eat them to your full. Your belly ached at the thought.

"Careful you don't fall". Your foot slipped at the voice.

There was no one around to watch you pick the nuts so no one around to hear you scream.

"What did I just tell you" He scolded.

You look down from the tree to see him staring back. He had you crawling higher up but he caught your foot and tugged you gently down. As you lowered yourself he held the deseeding body part as if he was tugging down on a rope.

First your ankle, then your calf, your thigh, your hip, the your upper arm before finally resting on the side of your neck.

In his other hand he held a capital issued duffle bag, and his fingers curled around an apple.

You push off the tree away from him and he lets you.

"What do you want" You ask.

"I heard you were washing laundry" he threw the duffle bag at your feet, "I'll pay double what everyone else is paying".

"I am booked out" you lied. As the series of events escalated people were too scared to even cheat you of work. You had lost two clients just yesterday.

"a trade then" he smiles and it puts you more on edge, "an apple for 10 minutes of your time".

He holds up the apple in his hand. You eye it hungrily. It was red and large, looking juicy in his hand. But you couldn't bare the thought of spending a minute in his presence let alone 10.

"5 minutes" you try.

He smirks, brining up the apple to his teeth and taking a large bite.

"10" he resolves, chewing the apple.

He could see how hungry you were. Your eyes never leaving the apple.

You nod slowly, walking up and taking the apple from his hand. You retreat as soon as you take it, going back to your place.

"You look tired. Have you been sleeping?".

You were right the apple was juicy and delicious. He waits for your answer, not moving on.

"Hard to sleep when you're hungry". You take another bite of the apple, avoiding where he bit.

'You miss my packages" He said it as more a statement then a question. He said it pridefully as if he was proud that you were starving without him.

"Not even a little bit, Sir". it was the truth. The care packages scared you more then anything.

"I miss my job, I miss my stall".

Your answer perplexed him. His strong features locked, and his body tensed.

"Yes, well self-inflected" he dismissed.

You were finally forced to eat the side he bit and he watched with eager eyes as you did.

"Will you sit?" he gestures to the steps of the old house. There was only three of them but they were long and looked stable.

You do take a seat and he follows you.

Once seated, he places his head on your lap, laying down along the step. It causes you to jump up and he lift his head in an uncomfortable position as his cushion jumped away.

He sits back up on the step and reaches for something in his breast pocket. He pulls out a peanut chocolate candy bar. They were popular in the capital and Tigress thought he might want to try them in her care package she sent.

He had no interest but knew you would.

"Here you want this?" it was wrapped in shiny plastic, "All you have to do is sit and let me rest".

You shook the feeling off and returned to your seat. If he tried anything you could just move again.

You tear open the bar, ripping it in half and putting the remainder in your pocket for your mother.

he rests his head down and lays quietly.

"todays the anniversary of my mothers death. Both her and my sister died in child birth together".

he had wanted some condolences. Maybe for her to stoke his face and tell him to sleep.

But she scoffed at him. "last week was the anniversary of little leo lerman's pa. It will always been the day you hung him".

Little Leo Lerman's pa was a traitor to the capital, his mother was a victim of the war they started.

"I've had a long journey back from the Capital. If you can't be kind, you can be quiet".

"I thought you were away" you comment.

"I went back to the Capital for a few days. Returned this morning".

A funeral for a old academy school mate required him to return home. He had to look in touch with Capital matters. But truth being told, he never cared for the man who died. Couldn't remember even talking to him, only ever speaking over him in class when he gave the wrong answer. He was used once more to make Coriolanus look good.

He was glad to see Tigress and Grandma'am too. They both swooned over commander Snow in his uniform. It was nice to be doted over but still didn't itch the need he had. If anything it only grew it.

He longed to return to you. He had hopped that his effort were enough and he would return to you begging for his forgiveness.

Hearing you now noticing his absence gave him a renewed confidence that you would fold sooner rather than latter.

You had only noticed his absence due to the halting of your suffering. No more being stopped and searched by every peace keeper who crossed your path. The 10pm door knocking to check you were home stopped. People even began to talk to you again. You were beginning to think it was over until moments ago.

You chew on the candy, looking around to see even a shadow of a person.

"I heard a rumor while you were gone that you were a peacekeeper in district 12 before commander".

"Most Commanders are Peacekeepers first."

Your hand clutched the railing ready to pull yourself up. But first your gnawing question had to be answered.

"And that while you were a peacekeeper you ran about with a girl named Lucy-grey". His eyes shoot open upon her name. dead and still ruining his life.

"Expect Lucy-grey went missing, and no one's heard from her since".

He sits up and leans against his knees, "It's just a rumor".

You jump back to your feet now the weight of him was off you. Getting as much distance as you can. He reaction confirmed it for you.

"I don't want to disappear" you admit, your eyes tearing up. Your family would never recover. Especially your brother.

He gets up with you, closing the space you created and taking your face into his hands despite your struggle against him.

"And you won't, okay. I never even knew Lucy-grey".

He was going to find whoever told you about her and string them up.

He could see the panic in your eyes, and he wanted to stamp it out.

"It's just a district rumor" he consoles.

The look in his eyes told you the truth.

"No it ain't".

You pull free from him, grabbing you basket as he stood frozen.

"i owe you an apple". You try and move past him, unable to spend any more time in his presence but he grabs your arm and flings you back into the macadamia tree.

You gasp as you make impact. It was a beautiful sound to Coriolanus's ears. He would have enjoyed it if he hadn't been so angry.

"Who do you think you are walking away from me?" his hands reach your throat applying pressure. It wasn't enough to cut your air supply completely off but it was enough to make it difficult to breathe.

You struggle underneath him, trying to push him off.

"I am Commander Snow, you are district scum. You think i am going to let district scum treat me this way?"

His hold tightens as he shakes you a little bit.

"Are you mad? bringing up lucy-grey. mocking the death of my mother."

this was not his sweet girl that plagued his mind.

"Get off me!" you scream at him with all the breath you had left.

His hand comes down. One-two-three times across your face. Tears fill your eyes from the stinging sensation but he doesn't relent.

This was the man who ruled district 12. He wouldn't have to make you disappear he could just leave your body were it laid.

Your hand reaches out, touching his neck and it stilled him from his rage.

"Stop" you beg, "I am sorry. I didn't mean to".

You feel his fingers loosen from your neck, and you take gasps of air while you can.

"I am sorry" you say again and his hands rest on your collar bone rather then your neck.

He lifts one hand up stoking your cheek,

"That bruise will never heal if you keep this up".

"I know". You wrap your hands around his wrist. He seems receptive to your touch.

Keeping his hands on your collar bone he rests his forehead on you.

You needed to get away from him. His temper flared so quickly, you were sure to make a mistake that would lead to his hands reaching for your neck again.

If codling kept him kind then you were going to lay it on thick until you were back to safety.

You rub his back like he was a child, while your other arm laid across his shoulders.

He presses further into you, moving his hands so there wrapped around your waist.

It looked like a lovers embrace but you felt like a mouse in the mouth of a snake.

Commander Snow was a mummy's boy, you learnt. It seemed logical that he was trying to replace the hole she left.

"Can you walk me home?" you ask. The walk home was nearly 15 minutes but you knew of you tried to leave without him again, his anger would flare back up.

You feel his nose rubbing your skin as he nods but he doesn't move.

"come on" You urge pushing against him. He straightens, heaving off you and picking up the basket you dropped and the duffle bag he threw.

He held out his hand to you, and you take it without hesitation.

You walk behind the houses to avoid being seen together. He leads and you trail slowly behind him.

Your eyes drop with tears from the pain of your cheek. He only notices when you snuffle.

It halts him in his tracks. He turns to you, wiggling his hand free and wiping away your tears.

"Hey, I am not angry anymore" he consoles.

You nod your head, taking his hand back in yours and coaxing him forward again. You were almost home. Just a few more meters.

Night had just begin to overtake the sky as you saw your house come into view. You let go of Coriolanus hand and press yourself against a neighbors house as man covered in coal returns from work.

You had expected that he would leave you at the gate but he continues past it, staying just behind you as you reach the steps of your house.

"Thank you for walking me home, Commander". You reach for your basket but he keeps it out of your grip.

"I'll bring it in side for you".

You freeze at his words. The last thing you want is for him to enter your home were he would be given free reign to do what he wanted behind closed doors. At least out in the open you had a chance of a good Samaritan coming to your aid.

But you couldn't tell him that.

You nod instead. Unlocking your door you turn to him.

"Could you check the mail for me?"

His hand touches your elbow as he turns, "Of course".

You wait for him to open the empty mail box at the end of your house before you rush inside. Locking the door behind you. You double check the windows on the side, ensuring they are well secured.

He heard the door slam and turned back up the drive. He tries the door nob to see it locked. If he was upset he didn't show it, keeping his face emotionless.

He walks to the window where you stood, eyeing you through the glass.

"vanessa lives by the lake. House 1-02" He begins to eat the de-shelled macadamias that you planned to have for dinner.

"she's very pretty and less troublesome then me. You'll like her".

He smiles a tight smile, no longer looking at you he turns, tipping your basket as he walks back to the gate. You would pick the nuts up later for dinner.

You felt as if you won watching him walk away. You bested him today.

But he didn't want Vanessa, he wanted you.

No one was willing to have their clothes washed by you. He must have figured out your clients, and scared them into submission.

With the loss of income, you were forced to use your savings that were fleeting fast with the rising prices.

The macadamia tree was no more. He had cut it down to a stump the next day. You only had a small basket left to last you.

Your mother was depressed by the isolation of the community. She rarely left the house, unable to beg for a job any longer.

You tired to lift her spirt by using the last of your flour to make her a small cupcake. You surprised her with it after dinner.

She hadn't even taken a bite before the sound of a van pulling up was heard. You both froze waiting for what was next.

Peacekeepers knocked down the door, coming in full force in a single file.

One grabs you and pushes you against the wall while the others tear apart your house. You feel his hands upon you as he searches for valuables upon your body.

Your mother is subjected to the same treatment by another.

A tight hold on your neck kept you from turning but you could hear the house being turned over. Crashing sounds could be heard from every direction. Smashes from things being broken, sounds of cheering as they found something valuable.

One had taken your mums silver necklace that was gifted by your dad just before he died. She had beg the Peacekeeper to leave it but you knew their orders were to reek havoc.

Breaking up the sound of looting was a drill. You could see out of the corner of your eye that a peacekeeper was taking your door.

You yelled but it was drowned out by the sound.

Once it was off its hinges, the peacekeepers released you and your mum, beginning to return to their truck with the door and your valuables.

You rush to your bedroom, falling to your knees seeing that the loose floor board panels that you hid your savings under was opened.

You and your mum were officially destitute.

The open door way let the cold air and bugs in. You had put up a old blanket but it did little.

It also didn't offer you any protection from unwanted visitors.

Coriolanus walked right past the blanket into your home. You shoot up from the table. Standing in front of the hallway to block him from going any further into your home.

"what are you doing here"

"I came to see if you had changed your mind about apologizing. I thought coming to the compound might have been a little scary for you".

He takes a step forward coming across to you. His head turns as he examines the damage his peacekeepers did.

"i want my door back" you demanded.

"I want my apology". He continues to you

"an apology for what? look at my house". He backs you into the wall

"an apology for treating me so cruelly".

"get out" you demanded.

"Are you sure you want to do this? It doesn't have to be this way".

"get out of my house" you repeat.

He places a hand on the wall next to you, leaning in. You feel his hand on caressing your cheek.

"you showed me the other day what a sweet girl you can be. Must i wring it from you?".

You think about shouting for your mother. She took to lying down in her bed to starve off the cold. But you worried for her safety if you did.

His stoking hand stopped, bracing itself against the side of your face.

He leans his head closer, his lips brushing yours. You knew what was coming next, and tried to move your head out of the line of attack.

He takes a stronger hold on your chin to keep you in place, and kisses you with the same hunger as the night against the wall.

He comes back for more before he had fully pull apart his lips from yours.

'Commander Snow". Your mother voice broke his kiss, and he turns to see her in the living room.

"Ma'am" he greets.

He doesn't move from you, unashamed as your mother glares down at him.

"What an honor it is to have you in our home" She pulls out a chair at the kitchen table for him. One of three that didn't break. "Can i offer you some water".

"No thank you, Ma'am. I just came to check on your daughter".

"As you can see, she's fine. Thank you, Sir". Your mother walks to the door way, holding up the blanket, " If anything changes I will be sure to let you know. So there's no need to come back down. We would hate to keep you from your important duties".

Commander Snow scoffs at the women. She was a bad influence on you.

He turns back to you and places a quick, deep kiss on your lips before following his directions to the door.

"No trouble at all. I'll be back to ensure the safety of you both" he pins your mother under his stare as he spoke, "District 12 is a dangerous place".

"Good night, Commander" your mother voice wavers.

"Ma'am" he nods in her direction and disappears behind the sheet.

Your mother rushes to you once he goes, pulling you into her arms. You were too frozen to hug back.

You knew your mother was going to pay for her interference.

But as peacekeepers invaded your house once more and dragged her down the road. You had no idea what awaited her.

You shout at them to get off her. Hitting and pulling the Peacekeeper that had her.

People come out from their houses at the noise. Watching as the women is pulled to the town center with her daughter carrying on behind her.

You feel arms secure you to a chest and you turn expecting to see Coriolanus giving you an out only to find a faceless peacekeeper.

You beg him to let your mother go but he continues silently, pushing you along.

You watch as they lock her on the whipping post.

"Commander Snow" you yell out for the only man who could stop this but he was no where to be found, "Commander Snow".

You scream as the whip came down upon your mother.

The cries of your mother will forever be engrained in your brain. You stood helpless as you watched her be whipped unconscious. Only then was she unlocked from the post and the peacekeepers moved the crowd on.

You rushed to her as the Peacekeeper released you. You cradled her head in your lap. it was you who should have been whipped. You wished you could have taken it for her. But he knew the only way to hurt you was to hurt the people you loved.

Your friend, Lydia saw the ordeal and helped you get your mother back to the house. You didn't have anything that could help her. The best you could do was clean the blood with water which caused her to wake from the pain and put her to bed.

"it's my fault, Lydia" you cry reaching out to hold her but she retreats from you.

"I am so sorry. I can't be seen with you". she rushes back to the entry way, "I shouldn't have even helped with your mother".

You fall to your knees as you watch her leave. You were utterly alone.

Your mother is bed ridden from the pain. Unable to eat or sleep. Two nights later, you receive a letter from him. In it was two small bottles of morphling.

I have what you need. Come see me

-C

The note read.

You rush to your mother giving her the small bottle. It worked instantly to relieve her pain. You stroke her head as she sleeps.

You remember what your boss has said; men love the chase but hate the catch.

Perhaps if you let him take what he wanted it would mark the end of this torture. You wouldn't be the first women to loose your virginity to a peacekeeper. the consequences weren't worth the effort in keeping it.

Your pride lumped itself in your throat, and you forced yourself to swallow it.

The next morning you gave your mother her breakfast and second dose of morphling before rushing over to your bosses house. You knew she was the only one who would see you.

She doesn't allow you in but greets you on the front porch.

"Have you come to your senses?" she asks.

"He whipped my mother"

"I heard. What do you plan to do about it?".

"The only thing I can" your voice was low and soft but she heard you.

"What do you need?"

"Two cups of sugar and a cup of flour".

She goes back inside and returns with your request. You could feel her neighbors staring out at you from their windows.

She comes down to the steps to where you stood and you take the whole pouches of ingredients.

"Thank you", Your boss was not known for being generous.

"When he is done, come round and i'll pour you a drink".

You nod your head unable to form a thought.

"Oh and Y/N, relax. It will hurt less the less you fight it".

She offers a comforting hand on your back, but you shake it off quickly to return home.

You make a batch of brownies with the ingredients.

You give a small patch to your mother and box the rest up in your basket.

You had showered and prepared yourself. Putting on your nicest dress, a soft blue one that ties into a bow in middle of your back. You borrow your mother worn black high heels, and brush your hair a hundred times.

You feel your pride bubble back in your throat as you reach the compound. You have to push it back down to give the guarding peacekeeper your name.

He repeats it into his communicator and the gate swings open.

You follow the guard to the well known building to see Coriolanus waiting at the bottom step.

He dismisses the Peacekeeper as he takes your basket from you and places a hand on your back.

"Thank you for seeing me, Commander". You talk to him as he leads you to his office.

"I was going to visit tonight. Is everything ok?"

You stare at him. He was so detached from his actions.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior".

You reach his large oak doors, which he opens for you.

"i am glad to hear it" he follows you in.

"Are these for me?" he asks looking through your basket.

"yes'' you answer.

He pulls out one of the chairs for you to sit in, choosing to lean against the desk as he eats the brownie.

"These are good" he praises, taking another bite.

"I used the macadamias".

He reaches into the basket and offers you one. You decline it.

"I don't think i could ever eat another one. It took a hundred just to keep me semi full".

He nods in understanding, putting it back. He leans forward over you as he speaks.

"one time during the war, I ate a whole jar of paste just to stop the pain in my stomach".

"that must have been awful".

he feels his heart lurch at her words. Finally sympathy. How he longed for it. For someone to care about his suffering.

But he tried to remain nonchalant. Not wanting her to think he was weak.

He shrugs his shoulders, "it was a long time ago".

He brushes his hand together, clasping them shut on his lap.

"So your apology. Lets hear it".

You thought you already had done it with the brownies but he wanted you to grovel some more.

That pesky pride bounces in your chest. But no, you wouldn't let it interfere. Your mother needed the morphling not only for the pain relief but to warn off infection.

"Commander Snow I-"

"Coriolanus" He interrupts.

"Coriolanus" you start again, "I don't know what came over me".

You don't look him in the eyes, keeping your eyes on his shiny shoes. You can't. But you can feel him looking at you.

"My actions are not reflective of the respect I hold for the capital".

The flex of his shoe tells you that he was unpleased with you apology.

"Or you". Yes, the shoe pointed back down. He wanted the focus on him.

"If you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I would never repeat my actions again. You would have my undivided loyalty for your kindness".

He stands up going to his desk chair and folding his hands on top. You eyes rise to watch him. You half expect him to pick up the phone and call a peacekeeper in.

"If you are after my forgiveness you have it. But if you are after my services there are no longer free".

You press your legs together and repeat your mantra; men love the chase but hate the catch.

It was time to be caught. You rise from your chair to stand in front of him. He angles his chair to face you. His legs brush against yours.

"My mother needs morphling". Would it be hint enough.

It seemed to be as he places his hand on your hip.

"And what do you need?". He tugs you down with his hold on your hip and you land awkwardly between his legs. You hold yourself up on the arm of his chair.

"Morphling," you answer. You face was inches away from his. The closest you've ever been without his hands wrapped around your neck.

"Maybe to not have to eat macadamias again?"

His smile throws you off guard. You find yourself dazzled by his straight white teeth poking out behind his plump lips.

"A new dress perhaps?". His hand goes to its favorite place on the side of your face and you can feel his thumb moving back and forth.

"Morphling" you repeat and it earns a laugh from him.

He loved that your needs came second to everyone else's. To his.

"Okay, morphling," he laughs, "What are you willing to trade for morphling? It's not easy to come by".

"Anything". This was it. You would loose you virgnity on the floor of the Commanders office for a case of morphling.

"hm" he muses. He picks up your right hand from the arm of the chair and wraps it around his neck. It throws you off balance.

"How about dinner?". You look at him. Maybe the floor didn't suit a man of his stature. Too animalistic.

"Where?". Did he want to go to a backroom of the hob?

"Your place".

"Tonight?". You had nothing to cook.

"Tomorrow". You still doubted your ability to find something. You doubt your boss would extend her kindness anymore, and all your friends had deserted you until it all blew over.

"do you like macadamias?". You think you still had a handful left. Did it matter. He wasn't truly coming to eat.

"They taste like paste in my mouth", he leans forward and presses a button asking someone to bring in the box.

"I'll be there around 6:30. Keep your mother in the backroom. I don't think she likes me very much".

"She can't even get out of bed" you admit.

He reaches into his draw, pulling out two small bottles of morphling.

"These won't help that but will ease the pain".

You take them fast. "Thank you".

"They aren't free. You owe me".

You jump as you hear the door open. Getting off him, just in time for a women in grey to enter with a small box. Coriolanus remains in a relaxed position in his chair.

"Commander" she greets as she places the box on the table and walks away. You peer into the box to see a small lot of vegetables, a bag of apples, two pears and a small bundle of meat wrapped up in parchment.

"For dinner tomorrow night".

He gets up from his chair taking the box with him, and directs you to the door with a hand on your shoulder.

"Now as much as I have loved seeing you. I have to get to a meeting, and you have to get home".

He leads you back through the building and down the steps to were peacekeepers were loading up into their van for night patrolling.

You buck against him as he pushes you to the van. You felt safer making your own way home.

They salute him, halting their process.

"14 Cherry lane", he nods in your direction. A young peacekeeper nods back.

He places the box on the floor of the van so he had two hands to lift you up. You protest telling him you could get home yourself but you were grabbed by a series of hands and placed on the bench

The men stood, hanging on to the material of the roof to avoid sitting down next to you. You felt safer at least knowing that they were too sacred of Coriolanus to touch you.

The leader of the group, dressed in smarter uniform comes to Coriolanus and confirms it will be done with a salute. Coriolanus pays him no mind, handing the box back up to you.

Two Peacekeepers lock the gate in and the van takes off. Coriolanus watches it go, and you watch him get smaller and smaller as you pass the boundary out of the compound.

The van ride is bumpy and silent. The men look out for protentional danger and you look out for familiar landmarks to track how far you were off.

You see a large red sign that marks the beginning of your neighborhood.

"wait, just here, please" the sound of the van would have the neighborhood looking out the window, and after tonight the judgemental looks of your negibours would be too much to bear.

The driver pulls over and the same peacekeepers unlock the gate for you. As soon as you jump out the van takes back off and your grateful for the darkness that covers you.

You walk back in your uncomfortable high heals. They snag every rock as you walk, and your ankle twists so many times you loose count.

Tomorrow night he would come, and it would all be over.

The next morning Peacekeepers come and reinstall your door. It was a welcomes surprised that earnt a few head nods from your community. It was a mark of the end. Things were returning to normal.

The new door even allowed you to trade the two pears for some pastry and 2 eggs. People were no longer afraid to do business with you.

You spend the rest of the day baking an apple pie for desert, tending to your mother who could now eat and bathe without pain, and tiding up the house for your visitor tonight.

You hopped he would bring more morphling. Your mother woke screaming in pain as a bird entered the house without the door and landed on her back. You had to give her the second bottle to ease her. But it left her dry for tonight.

Extra food would be nice too. The box only really fed a meal for two, and he had expected you to prepare dinner for him tonight with it.

You had thought about feeding your mother first and leaving a plate for him. But knew it would upset him. Dinner involved two people eating together. Instead you would only take small bites until he finished his meal and give the rest to you mother once he leaves.

You wouldn't be able to eat much with the anxiety in your belly anyway. But you assured yourself it would be fine.

He would come and take. And tomorrow morning you would go to work, and then your mothers work to earn both wages. With that and a tightened budget you could afford black market morphling, until that too was just a bad memory.

5 o'clock comes and you busy yourself with cooking and cleaning. When that was finished you dressed yourself back in your best dress and mothers shoes. Your feet cried as the shoes pressed down on the sores they made.

You stare at the clock until it hits 6:30. he didn't appear out of thin air. You wait at the table still.

It hits 6:31 and you think maybe he changed his mind. But a hard knock at the door tells you he hadn't.

You don't keep him waiting. he was an impatient man, and you also didn't want people to see him on your porch.

You yank open the door to see him standing tall in his official uniform and another small box in his hands. His smell hit you instantly. It was fresh and masculine. It was the first time you didn't hold your breathe around him, and his smell invades your nose.

Checking behind him for a peacekeeper van, you found none. Did he walk here, you wondered. But there wasn't a drop of sweat on him. It was unlikely.

"Hello" He greets.

You step back to let him in. He juggles the box in one hand while the other closes the door behind him.

'Hi" you return half-heartedly.

He offers you the box and you take it to the kitchen. He follows you like a lost dog, never allowing more then an inch between you as you walk.

'Dinner's ready. If you're hungry". You look through the box digging for the morphling, but disappointment fills you as you fail to find it.

"Starving" he responds.

He turns you towards him by your hips and smashes his lips down upon yours. he is a needy kisser, trapping your bottom lip between his teeth to stop you from moving before returning to your top lip to restart the kiss.

He pulls way breathless.

'For the morphling, yesterday" He justifies with a peck to your cheek.

What about the morphling, today, you wanted to ask but you weren't sure how he would respond to the question.

Instead you tell him to take a seat at the table and you would bring it out to him.

He sits as he is told. You set two places across from each other. One with their back to the wall leaving the other to face back from the door. Coriolanus takes a seat at the one facing the door. It allowed him to watch you in the kitchen as you plate the food.

He drags the other place mat across the table and seats it next to his. Traditional face to face dinning would not do tonight.

You come over with the plates, noticing the new arrangement. You go with it. Tonight would be about what he wanted.

"It smells amazing. Thank you". He praises.

You smile a tight smile at him. Unable to form words. Your mother would wake soon in a great deal of pain.

he watches you take small bites of your food while he demolishes his.

Your feet ache under the table, the shoes pressing hard into you. You slip the backs off, letting your heels rest on top.

The air carried a awkward silence. He was eating his food while eyeing you. You could tell he was trying to figure out why you chose to spend ten minutes eating a single potato. He knew how hungry you must be.

You needed to keep him focused on himself.

"I didn't hear a van. Did you walk?". You ask. You push your food to the side to make it look like there was an empty space on your plate.

"I parked it in the woods behind. I heard you asked to be dropped off before your stop last night. Figured you didn't want the attention".

"Thank you" you say earnestly.

"You know" he places some stake into his mouth, "people are going to know about us. Most already do".

Us. There was no us. It was commander Snow and a district girl. Entirely separate.

"you're my girl. People should know it".

Your eyes shoot up to his. No. he was going to catch and release.

"the people here-" you start.

"If some one gives you a hard time, you write their name on a piece of paper for me".

You would never do that. You felt your anger flare up and you stomp it down. The door was closed and your mother was injured. No one would come to your aid if you did something stupid.

"Okay?" He presses.

You nod your head in tune to your mothers crying.

Your head snaps back to the bedroom, and then back to Snow.

he made no offer of morphling, as he ate. You wondered how he could stomach it hearing another person cry out.

"Commander Snow".

You were going to ask, saying no wasn't the worse thing he could do but you were desperate.

"Coriolanus. You can call me Coriolanus in private". He wipes his mouth from his dinner with a handkerchief.

You couldn't call him Coriolanus. It was too familiar. So you just continued your sentence.

"I am very grateful for the food that you brought".

Your sentence filled his eyes with light.

"But" they darken at your ongoing, "I was wondering about the morphling that was promised".

"You think you deserve morphling? I told you favor has to be earnt".

Your mother cries out again, calling out for you.

"How would I earn morphling?" here it was his proposition.

"You could try being nicer to me".

You hands ball in frustration. Just say what you want, you begged, You couldn't be the one to offer it.

"I will. I will be nicer, but could I have the morphling now and then we can go to my bedroom?".

"Why would we do that?"

"Please!" you grunt, lunching onto his arm.

"You think I want to fuck you?".

You mother screams for you to come to her and you dig your nails into his uniform.

'You don't?" what the hell was this all for.

"Not until I get back to the Capital".

You lurch up, holding out you hand.

"Coriolanus please"

"who's to say I brought it?".

You knew he did.

''You're welcome to check". He grins, holding out his arms for a pat down.

A sob from your mother had your hands roaming his uniform. Pressing over his arms, and chest for small pockets that he could hide them in.

You pressed against nothing but soft flesh. You go to his uniform belt that was tight around his waist, checking the small compartments built in. He had taken off his hand gun but his handcuffs were still linked over his belt.

He takes hold of the back of your neck tugging you closer so he could brush his teeth against your throat. He kissed and bit as he pleases while you continued to search.

You shake you head at him, trying to keep you throat from his mouth but his hold tightens, going up to your hair.

You pat along his torso. The Commander peacekeeper uniform was intricate there could be a secret compartment anywhere.

When you get to his pant pocket you feel the shape of the small bottle. You dig into his pocket and he catches your wrist.

You tug back but don't make it far. You beg him to release you. You had found the bottle. You had won.

Your mother calls out for you again and he does release you. Letting you go to her.

You run down the hallway to her bedroom. falling to your knees beside her and uncapping the bottle.

"here" you bring it up to her lips but she doesn't take it.

"is he here" .The darkness of the room covers bites on your neck but she still eyes them like she can see them.

"No, mama. No one is here. Drink".

You tilt the bottle to her lips and she sucks it down hungrily. Her eyes droop as she rests her head back on her pillow. You stoke her hair until they close fully.

You couldn't let you emotions get the better of you. You just had to grin and bare it until he leaves. But now he has left you confused. He told you he didn't want to sleep with you until he's back in the Capital.

You thought you knew what tonight was going to hold but now everything is up in the air. Still, at least you knew he had plans to return to the Capital. You wouldn't have to endure him forever.

He could continue the morphling supply. That would save you having to consort with rebels. If you could avoid making him mad.

With your mother asleep you return to the living room where Coriolanus had started to eat your mothers dinner. If she won out in your attention, she lost out on dinner.

You clear you throat, "Thank you".

He looked pissed in his chair, and you were eager to return him to a good mood.

You clear the empty dinner plates from the table,

"Would you like some desert? I baked apple pie just for you".

He liked being center of attention and you would give him special treatment tonight.

He notices your pained walk to the kitchen. The way your knee slightly buckled as you put weight on your left foot. When you reached for the powered sugar in the top shelf, your foot rose from the heal and he could see the redness from where it rubbed.

You pat the sugar on top of the slice of the apple pie and bring it back over to him at a slow pace.

You place it in front of him. You didn't cut a piece for yourself, your throat hurt from bites.

Still he looked unhappy and you worried as he pushed the bowl away from him, and took you into his arm.

With his chair scraped back he positioned you in front of him, shoving you into a sitting position on top of the table.

His hands trailed down to your shoes, and he took them off, rubbing your sore heals. He knew what it was like to wear shoes that were too small.

He sat rubbing your sore feet, you slightly pull away as his strong hands dug into separated skin.

"What about your desert?" You asked. You had planned to try and send him on his way as soon as he ate it.

You strong finger latched themselves around your ankle and threw it over his shoulder. His other hand pushed your dress up around your hips.

You push his shoulders back as his head came between you thighs.

"you said you wouldn't" you squabble.

"I said I wouldn't fuck you. I didn't say we couldn't do other fun things".

His fingers find their way to your panties and he pulls them off, pocketing them.

"Lay down" he demanded, "i have some more morphling if you're good".

You lay flat against your dinner table and squeeze your eyes shut.

he takes both your knees and hooks them over his broad shoulder, pulling you closer to his mouth.

Your body jolts as he lays his lips across your center. Sucking as if it were a juicy stone fruit. You could feel your own wetness and you felt ashamed. But as your boss had said, there were uglier men out there.

As his first lick lands your hand shot out to his head. If he still had his curls you would have grabbed them but you clutched at air.

He laps and sucks hungrily as you wiggle beneath him. You bite back soft moans. This had never been done to you before, and you had no idea you could feel so good.

You could feel him as he spelt out his name with his tongue. C-the O had your hips bucking-R-I- another hard O and a sound crawled its way from your throat- L-A-N-U- he sucked as he finished the S.

You felt his teeth graze your pearl, giving you a second of pain before he went down and started to poke at your entrance.

He was slow and lazy as he ate you out, keeping your thighs in a strong hold. It felt your stomach form knots as he went up and down. Never letting you fully build from one spot.

You could hear him slurping and moaning as he worked. You tried your best to keep quiet. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing it felt good.

But as you came undone, the orgasm that ripples through you demanded to be known. You hand claws at your own face unsure of what to do while the other clamped down on Coriolanus hand on your thighs.

He added his thumb from his spare hand to your pearl and massaged you through your organism. The over stimulation was too much and you kicked at him to release you.

"Just feel it" he ordered.

You did and it left you spent on table.

"Good girl. You took it well". He tugged you down from the table to the floor beneath him where you sunk.

He undid he belt and you guessed it was his turn.

"Hold out your tongue". You did as he asked poking out your tongue to him.

He freed himself just enough to release his throbbing cock. It stood upright begging for attention. You thought it was going to look scarier, but it could have been your own arousal that soften the member.

He grips your chin, pulling down so your mouth was open as he slowly stokes himself over you.

"Kiss it" he challenged.

You press a soft kiss to his tip and he shudders. Was this all it took for the great commander Snow to crumble.

"Take it" he breathed, "Just the tip".

You take just the first part into your mouth, and he reaches down for your hand. You give it to him and he places it around his cock. He moves your hand for you back and forth.

"Get off" he barks but keeps his hand pressed tightly around yours. You take his mouth off him, and watch as he pumps himself with your hand.

You watch him with his head thrown back and eyes closed. You could see his quick breathes passing through his tummy.

He looks down, seemingly irritated by you, he grabs your hair and yanks it back.

"Open" was the only word he could get out.

You resume your position of sticking your tongue out with your mouth open and he goes back to his state of pleasure.

"That's it, baby" he moans, "like that. Yeah".

His hand over yours quickens and you can see him clutching the arm of the chair.

"Fuck, baby" he says as his milk spills out of him.

The salty taste hits your tongue making you instantly close your mouth. It goes all over the floor and your best dress. Your mothers terrible shoes were safe through.

With his claw still in the back of your head, he maneuvers you out of the way as he bends down and scoops some of his cum off the floor.

He pushes it back into your mouth, through your teeth.

"taste me, baby".

He lets you get up after his fingers are clean. You both straighten out your dress wear. He kicks your chair out for you and you take it. Slumping into it, feeling sick.

He reaches for his pie, taking a bite. He groans in appreciation of its taste. Digging his spoon back for more, he lift it to you.

You stare at him dazed before you eat from his spoon, wanting nothing more then to get the taste of him out of your mouth.

He leaves later on with a kiss goodnight and two more bottles of morphling. Enough to last you until tomorrow night. Where you expected to see him and earn some more.

--------

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#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #dead dove do not eat #hunger games #tom blyth #orginial #president snow #coryo snow #commander snow #coryo x reader

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tiyoin · 5 months

Text

pt.4 | 📍pt.5

rewrote, edited and proofread chapter five cause I thought it was horseshit and you guys deserved more from me. 🫶

numb.

you tried to feel numb.

doing everything in your power to push down any kind of emotion that was ready to slip through your mask.

look ahead, stand tall, put one foot in front of the other so no one would know you were wearing a confidence coat that was 2 sizes too small.

don't breathe too loud they'll hear you.

don't step too loud they'll think about your weight.

don't blink too much they'll think you're fluttering your lashes at them.

don't tuck your chin in they'll think you're gross.

gross for what exactly? everything.

don't mess up the stepping pattern or else you'll look like a bumbling idiot as you try to get back on the rhythm.

don't clench your fists they'll think you're mad and unapproachable.

don't smile because you're not in front of a mirror where you can control how much you want to give away.

don't think too hard or else you'll become enraptured with your daydreams and you won't be able to take part in reality.

don't do anything with your lips or else some air will come in and create a sound that sounds similar to a fart. then they'll think you're extra gross.

all these rules you had to follow to 'be normal,' weren't an actual set of rules, but a lifestyle. you wouldn't get collared if you didn't do one of the rules, you wouldn't get yelled at or reprimanded.

you were okay. to your knowledge that is.

on the outside, you probably looked like you had a stick up your ass. always in a rush to get to where you needed to go. like one of those rolling backpack kids back in your world. whenever they would pass they'd take casualties with them. rolling over toes, pencils, teachers- there was nothing in their way they couldn't bulldoze through.

you were just missing the wheels and will of iron it took to be seen with such a… what’s the right word- atrocity, in public, let alone an all-boys school.

underneath the habits and self-induced numbness, past all the anxiety and fear there was a tickle. not an actual tickle, but a sudden feeling you couldn't identify. it wasn't rage or frustration. you weren't sad or envious... you think- it was something gentler than that.

something softer yet just as negative was infesting your heart and mind like a slow-acting poison. poisoning your thought process, your habits, your attitude, and your livelihood.

though the breeze and sunshine walking to class supplied your flesh with warm- there was a chill over your heart. the beams of warmth too short to reach into the many cracks and holes that were created. sometimes you thought there was a bug. a big, juicy parasitic bug that would suck away your hopes and feast on your memories. It had a sweet tooth that was for certain, only targeting happy memories as it kept you with the bad ones.

did you ever have happy memories?

there was nothing you could do about the pestering leech. it wouldn't go away with Kalim's warmth and silver's calm. two sides of the same coin.

but no matter how many times you flipped: heads or tails, heads or tails, heads or tails would never work.

yes, you would smile, you would laugh- put on a poor show to convince yourself and others that there was nothing wrong. Everything was okay deep down and inside your twisted little mind.

sometimes, you weren't sure who exactly you were performing for.

"why am I scared to laugh" you remembered asking yourself one night, putting down your jester's hat for the evening.

looking in the dusty mirror, your eyes carefully roamed your face, ticking off imperfections as you scanned every feature, scrutinizing every fold, and every slight bump on your skin. saving the most obvious imperfection for last, you finally acknowledged the brewing red horn ready to grow on the side of your forehead.

you knew it was a normal thing that teenagers of all ages experienced. but you felt especially helpless now, with the lack of beauty supplies and makeup. but with a quick brush of your hair, the brewing red horn disappeared behind some tresses of hair.

"I look like a demon"

...

"though if it was on my nose, i'd look like rudolph"

there was no punchline. yet the observation- not even an original comparison, made you laugh.

A tiny huff puffed from your chest. though the more you imagined yourself with deer ears and a bright lobster red nose, you could feel your thoracic region start to shake. trying to push the sixth sense of judgment the walls were giving you, you forced yourself to laugh. holding onto this artificial laugh as long as you could. you hadn't laughed in a while. hadn't smiled in a minute. you'd barely look at yourself in the mirror most days.

gripping onto the vanity you watched your eyes crinkle and smile stretch. tripping and stumbling over scattered objects in your room you were still clenching your stomach nonetheless.

you felt like a tumbling tornado. clumsily tripping over everything with no set destination or concern for the things in your path. a shoe got kicked up. a pen you remembered liking got stepped and rolled on. a book you read a few nights ago kicked to the door as you set your eyes on your bed. with a few more violent acts towards inanimate objects, you carried your shaking body to bed.

this was it. you were going insane, weren't you?

all you needed was a canvas and paints and you'd truly become insane.

flopping down unceremoniously you let it linger for a second. sighing in contentment as you stared up at the ceiling.

you loved laughing, it was fun! but you were afraid to laugh, to live. remembering Kalim's quote of 'Everything is fun when you make it fun,' you wanted to scoff at his naivety. but Kalim was right.

if you made things miserable for yourself that's how they'll be.

directing your mind back to your head, you blinked owlishly.

oh. you were so caught up in the daydream you forgot you were in the hallways.

peeking through bumping shoulders, you tried looking towards the wall to check the room number.

"shit"

making a giant u-turn with as many 'excuse me's' and 'pardon me's,' you rerouted yourself back to your class. never having walked this way to class you were a bit hesitant. what if you walked by it again? what if someone is watching you and making fun of you for being a daft idiot?

breathe.

but what if you're late for class? crewel will have your hide- skin? doesn't matter what it is cause it'll be his. what if they all laugh when we're late-

we're not late yet it's only-

but when we get to class we'll be late!

perking up when you noticed the assigned numbers to your class, you weaved through the chattering sardines and beelined it to class.

no bell. no expectant crewel. no eyes besides from the easy-to-ignore front row. perfect.

the sigh you were holding in finally set itself free as you adjusted the grip of your books, and you strolled down the isles.

don't walk too fast they'll think you're strange.

but also don't walk too slow so they don't think you're lazy.

head down absent-mindedly adjusting your books, you followed your hand's cue and put your attention on a fixed thing. aka: your books.

but to your relief, you soon found your seat. with a huff, you unloaded the cargo pulled out some loose-leaf paper, and started writing.

writing what? not even you knew. but it made you look busy and that was important.

you didn't lay around in bed all day. you didn't continuously scroll through your phone to distract yourself. you didn't cry at night looking at everyone's socials, wishing it was you having fun. envy bubbling like a nasty tar in your bloodstream as you scorned everyone for having fun when you're miserbale-

"y/n!'

"oow"

sliding in next to you was silver. hair disheveled and tie ever so crooked, though he still looked really good-

pervert a voice whispered. tensing, you looked around and saw no one paying attention to your little corner.

"I tried calling you in the hallway." his boyish smile eased a beat in your rhythmic heart, only for it to take 2 more beats.

"y-you did?" you gulped.

silver nodded as he organized his books. "Yeah, but it's so chaotic and loud I'm guessing you didn't hear me" you nodded in agreement, tongue slipping over itself as you tried conjuring up an excuse.

"I- uh I'm really sorry I didn't hear you. I didn't even know you were there! I was kinda worried about not being elbowed to death." you didn't know why you were chuckling at the end but it felt scene-appropriate. you weren't sure if you believed what you told silver despite it being the truth.

was he going to refute it? was he going to give you a once over and mentally think 'how dare they ignore me' because all the diasomnia students you'd interact with had that very haughty, entitled personality?

but to your slight dissatisfaction, silver only nodded in understanding.

"I'm real-"

"There's no-"

you both started at the same time, sharing a shy smile at the pause.

"you can go ahead" he nodded. Waving your hands, you disagreed. "you were talking first, I'm sorry, go ahead"

even though you gave the green light, silver still heisted to go. giving the air another few seconds before he started talking.

"there is no need to ask for forgiveness. I understand if you couldn't hear me, I'm not the most vocal after all. if only sebek were here" he mulled the last part. wincing at the name, you wanted to pinch yourself for slipping up. damnit you showed that you didn't like a person he was friends with- he'll hate you now. you're screwed, you screwed yourself. don't you understand that he's probably planning on running to sebek as soon as you leave? then everyone in diasomnia is going to hate you-

you nodded, tiny little yellow sponges in white shirts and red ties ran around your brain as a fire roared throughout- wherever they were inside your head.

you tried to push the flood of incoming thoughts into a box, a big red crate with a crab lock to be exact. you were feeling antsy, looking for anything to focus on besides the silver-haired upperclassman in front of you.

sometimes you wish you were a computer. unable to feel and to only run on logic. it seems easier that way.

a thought bubble popped into your brain like an internet pop-up ad.

did they even have computers in twisted wonderland? duh of course they do, they have phones after all.

the thought of twisted wonderland's technology started to swarm and hijack your train of thought. effectively taking out the conductor and changing its course.

did they also have an Industrial Revolution like the United States had? what was the start of it? which kingdom had it first? was there something to set off the alleged revolution? How is it the same and how is it different from your world's?

did magic have allay in it? of course, it did. but how did magic make it different than-

"y/n"

snapping your head at the familiar voice. you looked to silver. only able to take in physical information as the new conductor saw a hole in the tracks, pulling the breaks almost immediately.

"you okay there?"

slowly you nodded, as a few members of the hijacking team jumped out of the train- some ideas and questions with it.

"yeah.. sorry about that, kinda got lost in my train of thought there"

nodding with understanding, silver started talking about how he would sometimes start nodding off when he was talking to someone. half paying attention, half trying to save the train- your brain was split in half as you took in all internal and external information.

until you heard the magic words everyone loves to hear: "what were you thinking ab-"

"The Industrial Revolution"

"... pardon?"

anddd you failed, the train fell into the deep deep gorge that the tracks would normally allow the said train to glide over... but alas! they were gone! blown to smithereens as it guided the train into the deep cavern. a big explosion followed soon after.

"dont worry about it" you brushed him off. saved by the bell as Crewel stood up, riding crop in hand yelling out orders like a drill sergeant.

silver scooted closer. you scooted back, the original distance between you two doubling. you were focused on writing your name, date etc & etc, on another loose-leaf paper.

the dreamy-eyed second-year made some noises before he knew what he was going to say. he started softly "are you okay"? but then grew slightly louder as unease set in "from... last class? I mean I know yuu told me it was a touchy subject but... i just wanted to check in"

your pencil screeched to a halt as the words 'yuu told me-' chanted in your head. it was the only thing you could focus on because what did he mean 'yuu said-'. "what did yuu say." you spoke, voice stable for the first time that morning.

silver's tongue tied itself as he fixed his hair a bit. "well..." he straightened up slightly, "after you stormed... no, escape is a better word. after you escaped the classroom yuu followed before i could. but crewel ended up stopping me before i could even move. and i asked yuu what happened the next time i saw them and asked how you were doing.. to sum it up: they told me you get nervous around new people soo"

dread set over you like a fast-approaching shadow.

oh no. he thinks you're a weird socially inept loser doesn't he? he thinks you're some kind of loser that doesn't go out weekends, weekdays, any day for all that matter. he probably makes fun of you with sebek. right?

"ah well," you cleared your throat. a lie already on the tip of your tongue "I mean it's like- a yes and no kinda thing. I didn't have a lot of guy friends when I was younger so being thrust" you thrust your hands in emphasis "into an al guys school has been quite the adjustment."

quickly, your mind conjured up a painting of a small house in a meadow filled with wildflowers. it was the only thing you could see for miles. it was a nice house with a straw roof, a smoking brick chimney, and a little garden outback. the only problem with the house is that you blew it up.

with nuclear missiles.

and the intensity of the blast was so strong that it created a small crater in the earth, no traces of the house were left as it's entire existence was reduced to ash and rubble all because of you.

the urge to bash your head into the nearest wall like intruding hornets slipping through a crack in an attic to terrorize a small family. there goes your social life right?? what soil life? you killed it before you could even nurture it!

your mouth and mind were running on autopilot while your conscience went blank.

your mouth was a fountain that spewed water everywhere. trying to get yourself out of the hole you dug yourself- crater, more specifically.

"but uhhh yeah, no you're good! you're different and I'm quite glad I got partnered with you since you're not as..."

"boisterous?" silver quipped.

you nodded. silver chuckled, leaning further away from you. "yeah me too. if I got paired with one of your friends only the sevens know how much damage that'll do to my physical and mental well-being"

you both discreetly looked over at the rest of the class watching as all pairs seemed to be in some kind of chaos. whether it's floyd being impulsive, grim trying to add the wrong chemical into a potion. (you didn't even need to know what they were making to know that whatever he's trying to sneak in- doesn't belong there.)

and you were thanking whatever god the people of twisted wonderland worshipped that you weren't paired with one of the adeuce combo. ace would try to take control of the project, pretending he knew what he was doing while simultaneously giving you backhanded compliments on your intelligence. only to ruin the entire project and somehow find a way to blame you for it.

meanwhile, deuce and you would be two peas in a squished pod: not knowing what you're supposed to be doing and ultimately winging it as you tried to match your hot barbie pink potion to crewel's muted blush potion. knowing the both of you, it would end up navy blue and when crewel went to fix it he would add a pinch of fleabane- a literal pinch, and it'd be fixed. embarrassing the both of you for all eternity.

"I wonder which group is gonna blow up the lab first mused quick to shut your lips, you were quick to wish for a sewing kit to forcefully shut you up.

but a small voice whispered 'it's better to take risks than stay comfortable.'

and silver seemed... nice.

silver looked out at the crowd for a moment longer, turning to you he started slowly, "while the yuu, grim, and ace trio seem to be the most obvious choice...." he thought carefully, "epel and deuce seem to be at a loss of what to do and are about 6 shade off. which surprised me since epel is in pomfiore"

"he's actually sh- really-" you started again, taking a moment to think over what you were going to say "I heard that epel's not that great at potions despite being under vil's careful watch...." silver's eyes widened, replying with a soft 'really?' as he looked back to the groups with newfound interest.

you to yourself "never judge a book by its cover" you shrugged, immediately turning to your work. anxiously, you waited for a response.

although circumstances are vastly different- is this how people felt when in the talking stage? if so it was a dreadful experience.

before your pessimistic thoughts could even start, silver responded with a chuckle, enviably agreeing with your statement. you could almost sweat with relief as an invisible weight got lifted from your shoulders.

silver seems nice...

a new voice, meek and unsteady although louder than the usual pessestimic ones in control. and for once, you allowed yourself to feel the slight comfortable tingle it gave you.

the hope and drive to that you haven't felt or experienced in a while.

you wished to get closer to him.

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#twisted anxiety 🌀#I was low-key ashamed with the last chapter ngl despite all your comments. I hope this makes up for it 🫶#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #tiyoin 🔎#azul x reader #silver x reader #malleus x reader #idia x reader #vil x reader #leona x reader

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