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yandere-daydreams · 3 months

Text

Title: Nurture.

Paring: Yan!Geto Suguru x Reader x Yan!Gojo Satoru (JJK).

A Continuation Of Nursle.

Word Count: 11.0k.

TW: Dub/Con, Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Unhealthy Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Imprisonment, Mentions of Pregnancy/Childbirth, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Implied Semi-Public Sex, Forced Marriage, Panic Attacks/Disassociation, Mentions of Stalking, and Nonchronological Timelines. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You were never supposed to meet Geto Suguru.

It’d been a misstep in the never-ending trudge that was the cosmic timeline; a mistake on behalf of the universe that left you on the doorstep of his temple, glancing between the rustic entryway and the scrap of paper one of your student’s mothers had slipped into your hand a few weeks prior. “They should be able to help with your little problem,” she’d explained with a wink, a knowing glance towards your stiff shoulders, the dark bags under your eyes. “One visit, and you’ll feel like a teenager again.”

You’d smiled politely and told her that you’d give it a try and shoved her note into a drawer below your desk to be swiftly forgotten. You went to a doctor, then a chiropractor, then a psychologist, then briefly considered making an appointment with a fortune teller before finally relenting and deciding that you were, in fact, desperate enough for a miracle healer. It took three trains, two taxis, and more than a handful of helpful strangers, but you’d arrived at the messily scrawled address in one piece. You could still turn around, try your luck with another specialist, another bottle of over-the-counter sleeping pills – sane solutions that sane people fell back on when they encountered problems that sane people had. You could go back to your flat, your ever-growing pile of ungraded tests, and pretend you’d never been here at all. You could do the thing that crazy, desperate people didn’t do, and you could leave.

You took a deep breath, braced yourself, and crossed into the entryway.

An attendant caught you as soon as you’d stepped inside. He was male, middle-aged, wearing the most strained, plastered-on smile you’d ever seen as he bowed his head to you. After a moment of nervous delay, you returned the gesture. “I—Uh, a friend of mine pointed me in your direction,” you stuttered out, doing your best to speak through your anxiety. “She said your head priest could…”

You trailed off, struggling to find the right words. Thankfully, the attendant cut in before you could make yourself look like a complete moron. “Geto-sama?” Impossibly, his smile widened even further. “You’ve come to the right place - he’s a truly miraculous healer. He’s seeing another poor, suffering soul at the moment, but you’re free to wait outside of his sanctuary.”

With a quick nod and a few words of thanks, you were swiftly taken to and abandoned in a small sitting room that, you could only guess, led into the innermost shrine. You sunk into a remarkably uncomfortable wooden chair and managed to sit still for all of three seconds before looking for your next distraction. Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to find.

Two girls sat on the other side of the room; sisters, you guessed, if not twins. One (Mimiko – it’d still be a few days before you learned her name) was perched on the edge of a chair identical to your own while the other (Nanako) sat cross-legged on the floor between her legs, fiddling with a hand-held console as her sister tried and failed to braid her hair. You couldn’t help yourself – a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you watched Mimiko clumsily fumble with the messily divided strands of hair, her frustration written clearly across her expression. You’d always been comfortable around kids, as much as you never wanted to have your own. You didn’t know much about healing priests or mystic illnesses, but you knew how to handle a struggling seven-year-old.

When she looked away from her work, seeming to notice you for the first time, you offered her a bright smile, a quick wave. “Having a hard time?” you asked, gesturing towards her messy handiwork. “I can show you a few tricks, if you’d like.”

There was a long moment of hesitation, a quick look shared with her sister. “I understand if you don’t trust my credentials, but…” You fished out a few spare hair-ties out of your pocket: bright pink and adorned with equally garish bows, the color and design enough to make Nanako’s eyes light up. One of your more absent-minded students tended to forget hers, and you’d gotten into the habit of carrying a healthy stockpile on her behalf. “I did bring my own supplies.”

A few minutes later, you found yourself dutifully combing out Mimiko’s hair while Nanako admired her new pigtails. They seemed reluctant to talk to you, but you did your best to make polite conversation – well, as much as you could with two stand-offish grade schoolers. “Are you two waiting for someone?”

Mimiko pursed her lips, but Nanako wasn’t so shy. “Our dad,” she filled in, the kind of pride only an idealistic child could have for a parent heavy in her voice. “He hates monkeys.”

“Oh.” You did your best to sound surprised, rather than confused. “Does he work for the temple?”

“Mhm – he’s really strong, and super important.” She waited for you to num in acknowledgement, then went on. “You’re here to see him, right? He can definitely help you, if you are.”

Your hands faltered, a lock of Mimiko’s hair slipping out of your loose hold. “Your father’s… the head priest?”

Nanako nodded enthusiastically, and for the first time, Mimiko chimed in, “He’ll probably get rid of your creepy friend.”

This time, you stopped moving entirely. “I’m sorry, my friend?”

Mimiko glanced over her shoulder, moved to speak, but the screen door leading into the shrine slid open before she could answer you. It wasn’t an attendant, this time, but a man in monk’s garb with hair that reached past his shoulders and a grin less strained but just as artificial as that of his attendants. Geto Suguru, although it’d still be some time before you knew to call him that.

His dark eyes found you first, before moving to his daughters. “Girls,” he started, tone more playful than chiding. “Are you bothering my guests?”

The twins exchanged a long, weighty look before Nanako pushed herself to her feet and hurried to her father’s side. With a sigh of mock exasperation, he leaned down, letting her whisper something into his ear as you rushed to finish Mimiko’s braid. You couldn’t make out what she was saying, but it was enough to earn a pair of pursed lips from Suguru, a languid shake of his head. Without responding to her, he straightened his back, already ushering you inside. You took a deep breath, then followed him into the shrine.

He made no attempt to put on a show of false hospitality. Wordlessly, he left you loitering in the center of the very empty, very large room while he stepped onto a raised platform and collapsed onto his side, propping his elbow on a cushioned, stand-alone armrest. This time, when he sighed, it seemed to be out of a more genuine exhaustion, his eyes falling shut briefly as he propped his chin on his fist and brought his free hand to his temples. “I have to apologize for my daughters. If I could watch them constantly, it still wouldn’t be enough.” He opened his eyes, and instantly, you felt the full weight of his stare. If it hadn’t been a feeling you were so used to, it might’ve been enough to send a chill down your spine. “Now, how can I be of service to you?”

You dug your teeth into the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to fidget. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping, lately. There’s been this weight on my back, like—”

“Like you’re being watched?”

He spoke confidently, as if answering a question he’d written himself. With your hands clenched into fists at your sides, you nodded. Suguru’s head lulled to the side, his smile taking on a satisfied lilt. “I thought so. Tell me – have you had any scorned lovers in the past? Boyfriends, fiancés, that type of thing?”

“A stalker,” you admitted. “But, he passed a few months ago. There was an accident, and—”

This time, he cut you off with a snap of his fingers. It was brief, barely a flash of movement, but you caught something in the corner of your eye – an amorphous shape perched above your right shoulder, a thousand eyes spotted across its baggy skin and a hundred curling tentacles wrapped around your arms, your chest, your stomach. You shut your eyes, winced, and when you opened them again, the creature was gone and Suguru held a small, pitch-black marble between his thumb and forefinger. He took a second to evaluate it before letting out an approving hum and bringing the marble to his lips, swallowing it whole. In your shock, it didn’t even occur to you to look away.

“These things tend to linger.” It was a meager explanation, but you accepted it whole-heartedly. For the first time in months, you were able to straighten your back, to drop your shoulders, to stand up without a single part of you crying out in protest. You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so relieved.

“Thank you,” you nearly gasped, bowing at the waist. “Oh my god, I— I don’t have much money, but—”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly ask for compensation. Consider this—” A click of his tongue, a roll of his wrist. “—a favor between friends. The most I could ask for is a little of your time, in return.”

You would’ve given him your first-born child, if he’d asked for it. “Of course, anything. I really can’t thank you enough, sir.”

“It’s just— I’ve been trying to find a tutor for my daughters for the longest time, and they already seem fond of you.” For the first time since you’d stepped into his shrine, he sat up, facing you directly. “I understand that you’re a teacher?”

You left the temple a few minutes later, a new number programmed into your phone and a smile brighter than anything you’d worn in years painted across your lips.

You moved in with Satoru the same day he met Himari – as much being told to shove everything you couldn’t live without in a bag because you wouldn’t be coming back to your apartment could be called moving. You would’ve fought it more, but he’d been holding your daughter, and you couldn’t take that kind of risk with her. Not again.

Time seemed to pass in slow, thick clumps. Hours would pass in the blink of an eye and seconds would drag on and on and on until you couldn’t stand the idea of pretending you cared, anymore. A nursery was thrown together in one of Satoru’s guestrooms. When you mentioned that you’d never slept so far from her, Satoru cooed and kissed your cheek.

“It’ll be alright, baby. I’ve got enough monitors to last ‘till she’s eighteen. And, no offense, they’re a little more reliable than what you’ve been using.” Another kiss, this one to the corner of your jaw. “Besides, I don’t think you’ll want her sharing a room with us.”

Something pricked at the back of your throat. “I could sleep in here, with—”

“Nope.” He was kind enough to shut you down before you could so much as start to get your hopes up. “Honestly, she should count herself lucky I’m willing to share at all.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Instead, you closed your eyes, and when you found the strength to open them again, the world was dark and your body was cold.

Once the novelty wore off, you fell into a steady routine. Once or twice a week, you’d make the trip to Suguru’s temple and do your best to drill seven years’ worth of public education into Mimiko and Nanako while their father saw his unfortunate visitors. They were smart girls, even if they were more interested in your love life than multiplication tables, and when you thought about Suguru had done for you, you couldn’t say you minded spending a few hours of your weekend in a scenic, rural temple surrounded by Suguru’s (sometimes off-putting, but never unpleasant) congregation.

It took two months before you saw Suguru’s composure slip. It’d been a mistake – an accident on your part as much as it was on his – but you hadn’t thought of it in such fatalistic terms in the moment.

You kept your hands in your pockets as you wandered through the temple’s courtyard, stretching your legs while the girls finished a worksheet on long division (chosen by Nanako over English contractions, much to Mimiko’s protest). Idly, eager to give them as much time as you could, you made your way around the inner sanctum’s perimeter, rounding a sharp corner before abruptly coming to a stop.

Geto sat on the edge of the raised porch, eyes closed and his shoulder braced against the side of a support beam. You moved to flee, to apologize for interrupting his meditation, but you noticed his hunched posture, his slightly parted lips, and let out a breath of a laugh, your panic fading into pity.

Ah, the poor thing.

He was so tired, he’d fallen asleep sitting up.

As little as you’d expected to see a grown man sleeping in public, you weren’t surprised. Suguru was always running himself ragged; either hosting guests or holding sermons or running errands on the temple’s behalf, always coming back with a certain weight to his steps and an off-kilter quirk to his smile. With a sigh, you kneeled next to him and after a moment of hesitation, shrugged off your coat, taking care not to wake him as you draped it over his shoulders. Immediately, he relaxed – an ounce of the tension in his shoulders dissolving as he slumped into himself. You’d considered waking him up, but decided against it. Your own months of sleepless nights and never-ending days were still fresh in your memory. You didn’t want to be the reason he missed out on a few precious minutes of much-needed rest.

You heard a screen door slide open, a high-pitched voice call your name from the other side of the temple. You pushed yourself to your feet, but paused, spared another glance toward Suguru. It was a stupid, spontaneous thing to do, you didn’t give yourself time to think better of it before brushing his bangs away from his face and pressing a kiss into his forehead – the kind of kiss you’d give to one of your students in the wake of scraped knees and playground arguments. When he failed to stir, you pulled back and crossed your arms over your chest, doing your best to keep yourself warm as you started back to where his girls were waiting for you.

Satoru was at your door as soon as the bell rang.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you must’ve known he wouldn’t give up old patterns so easily. He loitered in the hallway while your hyper-active students filtered out, slipped inside as the last of the stranglers did their best not to gawk at the inhumanely tall stranger with unnaturally white hair. By the time he crossed the threshold, you and Megumi were the only ones left, the latter dutifully waiting for his daily busy work at the corner of your desk.

Satoru acknowledged him with a click of his tongue, a quick ruffle to Megumi’s hair before he moved onto you. “There’s my pretty girl,” he half-said, half-sung as he slung an arm around your neck, pulling you into his chest. “Had you on my mind all day. Couldn’t stop wishin’ I had your pretty ti—”

You cleared your throat into your hand, nodding pointedly towards Megumi. Satoru’s grin faltered, then collapsed into a pursed-lipped frown. He didn’t say anything, but his thumb dug into your shoulder, his cruel eyes flickering to you over the dark lenses of his glasses. You didn’t need any further instruction. If Suguru taught you anything, it’d been how to get rid of unwanted company.

“Megumi.” You waved him toward you, and despite the mix of distrust and exasperation written clearly across his expression, he stepped forward. Still, you braced yourself before going on. As little as you wanted to associate him with Satoru, to blame him for what Satoru did to you, you hadn’t been able to meet his eyes all day. Whenever you looked at him, you couldn’t help but think about Himari, and whenever you thought about Himari—

“You usually walk home with Tsumiki today, right?” He didn’t, but you couldn’t think of a better excuse. Lately, it was all you could do to put one word in front of another, let alone actually manage to clear away enough of the thick, buzzing static clouding your mind to form an intelligent thought. “You should really get going, before she starts to think you left without her.”

His gaze dropped to the ground. He mumbled something just a breath below audible, and you forced yourself to smile. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I don’t want to leave you alone with him.” His tone was clipped, his eyes narrowed. “He’s… He’s gross, and weird, and you shouldn’t talk to him.”

If he’d been any other kid, if Satoru had been any other adult, you might’ve laughed, chided him for speaking so rudely about his elders. Instead, you only sighed, your smile faltering as you brought a hand to his shoulder. “We’re just going to have a little chat, that’s all. I promise, I’ll be just fine when we see each other tomorrow.” You paused, lowered your voice into something playfully conspiratorial. “Between you and me, I think he’s pretty weird too. Thanks for looking out for me.”

His scowl deepened, but he didn’t protest. After tossing one more glare in Satoru’s direction, he trudged out of your classroom, letting the door slam behind him. You didn’t have time to feel relief or dread or much of anything before Satoru was on top of you – his knee planted between your thighs, one of his hands groping at your waist while the other caught your chin, holding you in place while his lips crashed into yours, the kiss mess and open-mouthed and desperate. “The brat’s annoying,” he muttered, as he pulled away. “But I can’t say I don’t see where he’s coming from. If you’d been my teacher, I don’t think I would’ve been able to stop myself from bending you over your desk ‘n earning a little extra credit.”

A wave of nausea washed over you. You couldn’t stop yourself from buckling forward, but Satoru had already moved on, found his way to the side of your neck. “Please, don’t talk about my students like—”

Your voice gave out as he bit down – burying his teeth in your throat in less of a love-bite and more of an effort to eat you alive. You barely managed to stop yourself from crying out, but panic quickly swallowed whatever pain you might’ve felt. It’d leave a mark, one you wouldn’t be able to hide, not completely. Against your will, your mind flashed to Megumi and, if you’d been just a little weaker, you might’ve collapsed, passed out while Satoru lapped the blood now trickling down your throat. If you’d been just a little luckier, you might’ve fallen apart entirely.

Your hands shot to his hair, and Satoru let out a throaty groan. His hands fell to your thighs, and before you could so much as think to struggle, you were laid across your desk, folders and worksheets pushed aside in favor of trapping your body underneath his. “Always wanted to do this,” he muttered into your shoulder, already pulling your skirt to your waist. “Might have to go into teaching, too – just so you can return the favor.”

He might’ve gone on, but you were done listening.

You would have to request a change of classroom, tomorrow morning.

Nanako returned your coat to you a week later, rolling on the balls of her feet and grinning from ear to ear.

You saw Suguru more often, after that.

Granted, not too often, and never for very long. He was still a busy man, and most of your interactions were limited to minute-long conversations as you found each other heading in the same direction, a few niceties exchanged as you dropped Nanako and Mimiko off at the door of his shrine. He never struck you as overly guarded, but you could count the number of times you’d heard him speak about himself on a single hand. If it hadn’t been for his girls, you probably would never have learned his given name.

Winter had begun its swift and relentless approach, and you found yourself standing outside of the temple’s gates, watching the sun slip below the horizon and debating if it would be worth it to cough up the cash for a taxi, rather than dragging yourself through the labyrinth that was public transportation in the dark. As you checked your phone for the dozenth time, you caught a flash of movement in your peripheral and glanced up only to find Suguru – changed out of his monk’s garb and into a plain shirt and a pair of sweatpants that made him look more like an exhausted college student than the head of his own temple. He nodded to you by way of greeting, and you flashed him a smile. “Waiting for someone?”

“Something like that.” You looked back to your phone and sighed. “I might have to make our next session a little earlier. I forgot how dark it could get and, well, you know what it’s like in the city.”

You withered, but Suguru only brightened. “Let me give you a ride.”

“Are you sure? I’d hate to—”

“Please, (Y/n).” You could see why he had such a dedicated congregation. When he spoke, it was impossible not to listen. “Just think of it as a favor between friends.”

You wanted to refuse, to tell him not to waste his time, but a streetlamp buzzed to life somewhere above you and the last trace of your resolve crumbled. A few minutes later, you were in the back of a sleek, black car – Suguru sitting next to you and his driver hidden behind a tinted partition. More time than you would’ve liked passed in tense silence before you, more motivated by discomfort than gratitude, broke the quiet. “I was surprised when I found out Nanako and Mimiko were homeschooled.” Before he could respond, you realized how it must’ve sounded and tried to backtrack. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! It’s just—you’re always so busy, and they’re such bright girls. I’m sure that, if you ever did want to get them enrolled, they’d do very well. It’d free up a lot of your time, too.”

You thought you saw him wince, but it could’ve just been a trick of the light. By the time you turned to face him properly, his expression was unreadable – his lips pulled into a thin line and his dark eyes focused on some unseen point in the distance. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this,” he admitted, before letting an airy sigh. “But… I made a lot of bad choices, when I first took them in. The were a bad situation, and I was young and stupid, and I— I think I might’ve fucked things up. For them, at least. I probably would’ve ended up in the same place eventually.” Another sigh, a lengthy pause. When he went on, his tone was heavier, his usual confidence greatly diminished, if not absent entirely. “…you don’t think I made a mistake, do you?”

You took a second to think, letting your eyes fall to your lap. “I don’t,” you said, finally. “The girls seem happy, and you’re providing for them. They won’t have normal lives, but—” You hummed, shrugged. “Who does?”

He seemed to relax, the harsh edges of his expression dulling. His eyes shifted to you. “You’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

This time, you didn’t hesitate at all, shaking your head with a slight smile. “Consider it,” You let your tone dip into something teasing and secretive, raising your chin the way he tended to when talking to guests and members of his congregation. “a favor between friends.”

Your showmanship earned a dry chuckle, a softened gaze. After a long beat, he asked, “Would you mind if I, uh…” He trailed off, tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Would you mind if I tried something?”

Now, it was your turn to laugh. You’d assumed he was in his mid-twenties, but he must’ve been younger – he was acting like a teenager. “Go ahead, Suguru.”

Despite your reassurance, he stalled for a few seconds before, more than a little stiltedly, bending at his waist and resting his head gingerly on your lap. It was an awkward position, the back of the car too cramped for him to lay down properly, but his eyes fell shut and after the initial shock faded, you could only smile, raising a hand and combing your fingers idly through his hair. When you pulled the elastic band holding his half-bun together out of place, letting his hair fall loose over your thighs, he didn’t protest, only going that much more limp on top of you.

You two stayed that way for the rest of the trip; his head in your lap, your finger carding through his hair, the only noise that of traffic and the occasional muted hum when your attention started to drift. It was only when his driver pulled onto the curb in front of your complex that Suguru raised his head, blinking himself back into consciousness. You turned to let yourself out, only to feel him take up one of your hands – his fingers soon intertwined with yours. You didn’t have time to ask him what he was doing before you felt him cup your cheek, before you felt his mouth against yours.

The kiss was gentle but warm, shallow but lingering. He held you there, his lips barely yours, for a second, then another, before you snapped out of it and pulled away – your disgust as immediate as it was it was self-concentrated. If Suguru felt the same way, he hid it well. You could only make out the slightest trace of hurt in the down-turned corners of his parted lips.

He started to say something, but you were already rushing to apologize. “I’m sorry, Suguru. You’re a sweet kid, but I’m—” You forced yourself to laugh, the noise jolting and strained. “I’m nearly twice your age.”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t care how old you are.”

“Exactly.” You shook your head, dragging a hand over your face. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve been more clear about, I don’t know,” You gestured vaguely. “—everything. And I should really—”

Again, you moved to leave, and again, he stopped you. This time, he caught you by the wrist. “I’m not a kid.” You tried to pull away from him, but his grip tightened. You felt something in your forearm begin to ache. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you how serious I am.”

“Absolutely not.” You pried the door open and jerked away from him just in time to stumble out of his car and onto the pavement. You saw his posture straighten, his body tense as if he was going to try to lunge at you, but mercifully, he must’ve thought better of it. His anger was, instead, focused entirely into his unblinking stare, and you did your best to speak in spite of the way his eyes burnt into your chest. “I… I think it would be for the best if we didn’t see each other, for a while. Tell the girls I’m out of town, and—” You swallowed, dryly. “—I think you should get some rest, Suguru. You need it.”

As awful as it made you feel, you slammed the door shut before he could respond. He didn’t try to chase you, but his car hadn’t moved by the time you made it to your flat. With your doors locked and your blinds pulled shut, you watched it until, hours after midnight, you nodded off.

He was gone when you woke up, and you could only hope he’d be mature enough to mind his distance.

Satoru’s face was buried between your thighs when you heard his phone ring, his hands curled around your thighs and your body perched on the edge of one of his rarely used marble counters. You would’ve missed it entirely if you’d been a little closer to the edge, if he’d been just a little nosier as he moaned and grunted into your cunt, but you weren’t, and he wasn’t, and the sound of that melodic dial-tone cut through the haze like a knife through fog (relatively ineffective, but still violent enough to draw attention). You straightened as much as you could, combing your fingers through his hair and tugging, gently. “Satoru, I think—”

“It’s not important,” he muttered against your thigh, drawing back just far enough to be audible. “’s probably just the kids. They said they were coming over, but—” He flashed you a smile, bright eyes catching the light. “They can wait ‘till we’re done. I can’t just leave my pretty girl unsatisfied.”

Immediately, the haze stiffened and shattered into a panic-inducing, heart-racing clarity. You straightened, cursed under your breath, but Satoru tongue was already lapping over your soaked slit, the bridge of his nose grinding against your clit as he all-but worshipped your pussy. This time, you didn’t tug, but pulled – doing what little you could to pry him off of you, but all you earned was a throaty whine, his fingertips dug that much deeper into the plush of your ass. His tongue bullied its way past your clenching entrance, curling and thrusting, and it took everything you had not to snap your thighs shut around his head, not to give him what he wanted. “Satoru,” you spat, using the same tone you’d put on for a misbehaving student. “S-stop.”

It was more of an instinct than a decision, more of a reflex than a choice, but either way, it didn’t seem to make a difference. With his eyes blearily focused on your expression, his mouth latched onto your pussy like it was the last thing he’d ever taste, he fucked you open with his tongue until your toes were curling, your legs twitching, your vision burning pure white in a way that made you wish you could give up on sight altogether. He nursed you through your climax until the last of your energy was spent before pushing himself to his feet and slamming his mouth into yours – his teeth cutting into your lips and your taste heavy on his tongue. By the time he pulled away, you were panting and he was wearing that awful, careless grin. You never thought you’d miss Suguru’s calculated smile, and yet.

And yet.

You didn’t have time to be angry. The kids came first – a thought that, if you’d given yourself a chance to linger on it, would’ve been more of a cause for concern. “Go clean yourself up, I’ll take care of the kitchen. Call them back as soon as you’re finished.”

“I love it when you get bossy,” he said, with a dreamy sigh. “It’s hot in a, like, ‘put me over your knee and spank me’ way, y’know?”

Your only response was a quick shake of your head, a repulsed curl of your lips. Satoru only laughed, pecking your cheek and burying his face in the crook of your neck. “They’ll love you. Megumi likes to act shy, but he can’t shut up about you. Tsumiki’ll just be ecstatic to have a baby sister,” he mumbled into your throat. “You wouldn’t break their hearts, would you?”

It might’ve hurt less, if there hadn’t already been two little girls somewhere in Japan who knew that you absolutely would.

You called Suguru from the curb in front of your flat, your head in your hands and tears streaming openly down your cheeks. He let it ring once, twice, before answering. You could practically hear the smile in his voice, practically feel the smugness in his tone. “I thought we weren’t talking, dear?”

You swallowed back another ragged sob. “It’s back.”

He was there within the hour – alone, this time, no girls and no driver. You stayed where you were as he let himself into your flat, returning only a few minutes later with a thoughtful hum and a thin frown playing on his lips. “It’s rare, but it does happen,” he started, as he sat down next to you. He was dressed in street clothes, rather than his monk’s garb. Somehow, that only made it more difficult to look at him. “Particularly restless spirits can lie dormant before reappearing stronger and more attached to their living host. A standard exorcism might no longer be enough to banish it.”

You felt something heavy and pointed drop into the pit of your stomach. Calling it 'stronger' was an understatement – you couldn’t believe something so massive, something so awful had ever been attached to you. When you let your mind wander, you could still see its dripping, pitch-black arms writhing over the walls and ceiling of your bedroom, still feel its countless eyes burning into you – a hundred, no, a thousand times worse than it’d been when Suguru had first sent it away. You buckled at the waist, burying your face in your knees, and Suguru rested a hand on your back, rubbing slow circles into your shoulder. You were thankful for the comfort, even if it would’ve taken you another few weeks to completely forget the feeling of his hand around your wrist. “Can you…” You cringed, shrunk into yourself. “Can you help?”

“Oh, absolutely.” If he’d been just a little more cocky, he would’ve been purring. “But I’m afraid it’ll cost you more than a favor, this time.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“I know.” His hand went still, settling on your shoulder. “But I need you to give me something, this time.”

You didn’t hesitate. “Anything,” you repeated, with all the desperation of a sinner laid bare before the altar. “Please, Suguru. Anything.”

“I need an heir.”

You could practically feel your heart split open and shatter inside of you. “…an heir?”

“For the sake of my congregation,” he said, like that explained anything. “We’ll have to get married first, of course. You’ll be taken care of until the child’s born, and then, you’ll be free to go.” His hand fell to your own, squeezing gently. “Or to stay with us, if that’s what you prefer.”

Any other time, the idea alone would’ve been enough to make you sick. Any other day, you would’ve told him that he could have anything, anything but that.

But, in the moment, all you could seem to think about was your flat and the monster inside of it. You felt yourself nod and, before you could take it back, heard Suguru laugh, felt his lips against your temple. “You’re making the right choice,” he muttered, the words nearly lost against your skin. “I love you.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say it back.

Tsumiki and Megumi were asleep in the guest room turned makeshift nursery. Megumi had been slow to warm, quick to hear Satoru introduce you as his ‘one and only’ and assume the worst (which, to be fair, wasn’t exactly wrong), but Tsumiki hadn’t been so stand-offish, and ultimately, whatever concerns an eight year old could have for your safety crumbled under his sister’s desire to fawn over your newborn. You were glad. You didn’t want him to worry about you. That was a mistake you’d made with Nanako and Mimiko. You’d let Suguru give them a reason to care if you left, and then, you’d left.

Your gaze drifted to Himari. She’d always loved attention (a trait you could only assume she’d inherited from her father), and she’d spent most of the afternoon and the entire evening basking in Tsumiki and Megumi’s adoration. Currently, she was sitting in your lap, giggling and clapping her hands together as you idly bounced her on your knee. The sight alone was enough to make your heart soar – any thoughts of Satoru and his wards fading into the background as you leaned forward and peppered her tiny face with kisses. It was a miracle that you loved her at all, let alone as much as you did. Pregnancy hadn’t been kind to you, and it wasn’t until the moment she was born that you could stand to think of yourself as a mother of a child, rather than just the incubator to a cultist’s pipedream. You’d never wanted children, but now that you had one, you couldn’t imagine letting anything in the world take her away from you.

Maybe, if he’d been a little kinder to her, if he hadn’t already had two daughters to spoil and adore, you might’ve been able to justify loving Himari less than you did, might’ve been able to leave her in his care when you pried a window open and fled in the middle of the night. He’d never been cruel to her, but no part of you believed that he wouldn’t have been if she’d failed to do what she’d been made for – if your love for her hadn’t been enough to keep you by his side. Even if you hadn’t loved her at all, you still would’ve taken her with you. No child deserved to be left in the care of a monster like Suguru.

You choose, deliberately, to only think about Himari, to tell yourself that you only ever had to think about Himari. You couldn’t afford to break your own heart a second time.

Choosing not to think about Megumi and Tsumiki proved more difficult.

It was a courthouse wedding, the ceremony little more than a few signatures and a hesitant ‘congratulations’ from the officiant. Suguru’s assistant – a blonde woman who looked at you with equal parts sympathy and disgust – acted as the witness. Suguru explained that, after your first child was born, there would be a more elaborate ceremony, something with rings and dresses and flowers that the girls could participate in. You were too dissociated to point out that there wasn’t supposed to be anything after the child was born, let alone something that would leave you that much more bound to him.

You expected him to take you back to your flat, or the villa on the outskirts of the city you’d visited a handful of times when he couldn’t meet you at his temple, but instead, you found yourself standing in front of one of the tallest, brightest hotels you’d ever seen. “It is a special occasion,” he said, as you stared blankly at the entrance. “I wouldn’t be a good husband if I didn’t spoil my wife now and then, right?”

“Please,” you muttered, nearly under your breath. “Don’t call me that.”

“Whatever you say, my love.” His smile was giddier than you’d ever seen it, amusement heavy in his voice. “Let me give you a hand.”

The interior was no less agonizing than the exterior. You could feel a hundred pairs of eyes burning into you as you hung off Surugu’s arm, your own legs too weak to be trusted to support you. Rather than relief, dread coiled in the pit of your stomach as he led you to your room – a suite on the highest floor. You considered, briefly, trying to tell him that you were afraid of heights, but decided against it. Even in your own head, it sounded too childish to be believable, and you couldn’t imagine dragging this out for a second longer than it absolutely had to be.

You stepped into the room and were immediately reminded that Suguru had been the one to make the arrangements. A bottle of wine sat in a bucket of ice on a velvet-cushioned ottoman. Bouquets of roses and their disembodied petals had been carefully spread across every possible surface – painting the room with misshapen splotches of bright red. A colorless atrocity of white silk and lace had been laid across the king-sized bed. You got close enough to recognize it for what it was (bridal lingerie, veil and all) before turning away and collapsing onto the foot of the bed, your vision blurry and your heart racing.

You felt your mouth go dry, your throat tighten, but you forced yourself to speak. You wouldn’t have been able to stand the silence. “Am I—” A pause, a distraught glance towards the monstrosity. “Am I supposed to wear that?”

“I might’ve been a little overzealous,” he admitted, stepping in front of you. Slowly, he lowered himself onto one knee, taking your hands in his. “I’ll be gentle, if that’s what you’re worried about. The only thing I want you to feel is pleasure.” He brought the underside of your wrist to his lips. “I love you.”

You couldn’t be sure what it was. How sincere he sounded, maybe, or how young he looked kneeling in front of you, away from his temple and out of his costume. He kissed the back of your hand, and a ragged sob tore past your lips, all the tears you hadn’t been able to shed during the ceremony suddenly beading in the corners of your eyes. As you tried to keep them at bay with your free hand, Suguru’s smile wavered, and for the first time that you’d seen, fell away completely.

He posed the question softly, carefully. You wished he would’ve been just a little more eager to break you. At least, then, you could’ve hated him for it. “…you really don’t want to do this, do you?”

There was no point trying to lie. You shook your head and watched as Suguru deflated. His eyes had always been dark, but in that moment, you could’ve sworn they’d never seen any light at all.

Before you could brace yourself, his mouth crashed into yours with enough force to bruise. You tasted blood, felt his tongue rake over yours; whatever gentleness he’d promised to show you little more than a distant fantasy. As his mouth moved against yours, his hand slipped under your dress – two fingers dragging over your slit through your panties before his thumb found your clit through the thin material and he pushed a rough, impulsive pattern into the sensitive bud. You shrunk into yourself, your hands finding their way to his chest before you could stop yourself from trying to push him away, but Suguru didn’t seem to care, to notice. Your panties were torn away entirely, and like a man possessed, he fell back to his knees between your open legs and started to devour you whole.

Your thighs were pulled onto his shoulders, his hands curled around your hips as the flat of his tongue laved over your slit, teasing the entrance of your pussy and flicking over your clit. He alternated between tracing vague figure-eights into your cunt and lapping up the slick starting to drip from your poor, confused pussy – your exhausted body eager to accept any affection Suguru had to show you, if you could even call what he was forcing onto your affection. You tried to reach for him, to pull him away from, but you failed to so much as make contact before he let out a near-violent snarl, calloused fingertips burrowing into vulnerable flesh as he pulled you that much closer, hauling your ass off the bed and leaving you on your back, your arms crossed over your face and your ankles crossed over his back. You sobbed openly, now, but your disparate cries were interrupted by cracked whimpers and half-swallowed mewls – little, pathetic sounds you didn’t have the strength to suppress. Suguru didn’t stop. Honestly, you would’ve been surprised if he could hear you at all over the sound of his own heady panting, of his tongue fucking into your now-soaked cunt.

You almost regretted not taking him back to your flat that first night – when he kissed you like you were the most delicate thing in the world. If you’d given in right away, he might’ve had the self-restraint to hold back. Or, to try to, at least.

One of his hands left your waist, falling low enough for the pad of his thumb to press into your clit. Messily, roughly, he toyed with the hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves as his tongue thrust shallowly into your cunt, curling and splitting apart the hot, clenching walls of your pussy. You felt a deep, full-chested moan reverberate up the length of your spine, and that was enough to leave you tumbling over the edge, to leave your thighs clenching around his head as you came undone on his tongue. He ate you out through the aftershocks, but didn’t stop - fucking you open with his tongue until you’d stumbled through another climax, then another, a mix of slick and saliva soon coating his chin and staining the sheets below you. By the time he pulled away, you were crying not from despair, but overstimulation; pangs of pure heat searing your nerves and leaving your cunt aching for reprieve. You were only vaguely aware of the mattress dipping beside you, of his chest pressing into yours as he kissed you for what felt like the hundredth time. As his lips pressed into yours, you decided that, if tonight was the last time you ever had to kiss someone, it wouldn’t be so bad. Not when compared to the alternative.

“I love you,” he mumbled, and then again as he pulled away, “I love you.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Your voice felt like something you were no longer entitled to use; a vague concept that’d been placed at an inconceivable distance by some cruel deity. Through half-lidded eyes, you saw Suguru bare his teeth in frustration. Your dress wasn’t so much removed as it was torn away from you, and you couldn’t help but wither without it. Modesty could only count so much when you could still see your arousal coating his lips, but still, it hurt.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he pulled you into the center of the bed and haphazardly dragged his shirt over his head. You shouldn’t have been surprised. You’d seen his bare arms plenty of times, watched him lift Nanako and Mimiko clean off the ground without so much as a trace of strain, and yet, something inside of you still curled up and died as your eyes raked over his sculpted chest, the corded muscle that seemed to cover every inch of him. More out of shock than anything, you moved to sit up, to put some distance between yourself and a man who looked like he could’ve torn your head off your shoulders on a whim, but he was quick to stop you, to press a palm into your chest and force you back onto the bed. With his other hand, he dragged his pants down just far enough to free his cock and, instantly, whatever desolation you might’ve felt at the sight of his bare chest was multiplied ten-fold.

You didn’t realize you were shaking your head until you moved to speak, your voice shaking and small. “That’s not going to—”

“It will.” That authority – that tone of absolute control – was back in full force. Still, you couldn’t seem to make yourself believe him. “I won’t stop until it does.”

Your heart fell into your stomach as he dragged his swollen, leaking tip over your pussy – the flushed head catching on your abused clit and drawing an airy whimper past your lips. He was, by far, the biggest man you’d ever seen, let alone slept with. As if that wasn’t enough, he was already harder than you knew someone could be – thick, pearly beads dripping from his tip and down his shaft, his more prominent veins almost pulsing as he aligned with your entrance. Even his balls were fucking huge.

Fit for a breeder, something vicious and awful whispered into the back of your mind. You tried to ignore it, but you couldn’t disagree.

Your eyes darted to his expression and met his, already blearily focused on you. You opened your mouth, but anything you might’ve said was stolen away from you as his hips bucked forward and he thrust into you, bottoming out in the same motion.

You’d been right, when you’d tried to stop him.

He was going to kill you.

Already, he was too much. A fresh wave of tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his cock threatened to tear you apart. Suguru let out a raspy groan, his head falling forward and he drew back, pulling out of you until only his head remained in your pussy only to snap his hip and bury himself that much deeper, only to stretch you that much further. “See?” One his hands fell to your lower stomach, the heel of his palm pressing into the soft flesh like he could feel the outline of his cock. He might’ve been able to. You were too scared to check. “You’re a perfect fit.”

There was another grunt, another breathy groan as he fell into an unsteady pace – every thrust brutal and back-breaking. His hands found their way to the headboard, curling around its upper edge as he fucked into you. He didn’t so much find the right spot as find a way to hit every spot constantly, his cock filling your pussy to the brim, leaving you desperately trying to clench down around him to no avail. A high-pitched whine – fractured and pathetic – tore past your lips, and Suguru let out an airy chuckle. “Not gonna be able to get enough of this.” His pubic bone scraped against your clit and you threw your head back, your back arching off of the mattress. Your sensitivity was rewarded with another laugh, a hand brought down just to grope idly at your chest. “I can’t let you out of my sight, from now own. I think I’ll lose my mind if I have to go a day without feeling this perfect pussy wrapped around my cock.”

It was hard to think, let alone piece two words together. Still, you managed to spit something out, fighting to speak above the sound of skin against skin, hips against hips. “B-but, you said— the baby—”

“Fuck the baby. This—” He slapped your clit, his touch harsh enough to make you cry out. “—is all mine.”

A hand around your throat, a new brutality to his thrusts. His grip wasn’t tight, he wasn’t choking you, and yet, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think about anything other than his cock and the feeling of your cunt being split open around it. “You’re mine.” If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought he sounded relieved. “And you always will be.”

Meeting Suguru had been a mistake. Asking for his help had been a mistake. Agreeing to this terrible deal had been a mistake.

But, cumming around his cock as that final possessive sentiment trickled past his lips was the biggest mistake you’d ever made or ever would make, again.

Your cunt clamped down around him – a vice around his cock. With your fists balled around satin sheets and your legs wrapped around his waist, your body convulsed underneath his, your pussy doing everything in its limited power to milk him dry. You heard Suguru curse under his breath, his hips pushing flush against yours as something thick and searing flooded into your cunt. What little managed to leak out around the base of his cock was caught with two fingers and forced back in; no drop wasted.

With a heavy exhale, Suguru dipped lower, his lips grazing over your cheek, then the curve of your neck. You shut your eyes, letting yourself deflate. It was over. No matter how you might’ve felt, no matter how much you might’ve wanted to crawl out of your skin, it was ov—

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he pulled out of you, only to push back in; his rough, punishing pace only made slightly more bearably by the weight of his orgasm.

The next morning, you’d wake up to Suguru’s arm around your waist and a pregnancy test on the bedside table. It’d be too early to tell, but you wouldn’t bother to so much as open the box. Nothing could’ve kept Suguru from trying again, and again, and again in the days to follow.

Come to think of it, you couldn’t be sure if he ever stopped.

“How long is this supposed to last?”

Megumi and Tsumiki were walking a few yards ahead of you, stopping to stare into every other shop window before running ahead, and Himari was currently tucked against Satoru’s chest, occupying herself with a thorough (albeit, mostly oral) investigation of the collar of his shirt. You couldn’t cook and Satoru refused to do much of anything before noon, so the only choice left was to chase after promises of crepe trucks and cafes. Your question earned a hum, a glance toward you, but not much more. As little as you liked about Satoru, you were thankful he had such an even temper. Suguru was never so slow to react.

“Forever, preferably,” he answered, with a slight shrug. “Or until I die, at least – sorcerers have a pretty high mortality rate. I’m the best at what I do, but even the strongest ant gets crushed eventually.” He paused, pressed a quick kiss into the top of Himari’s head. “I’ll make sure to leave a big trust fund, though. You’re gonna be living off your daddy for a long, long time.”

You let your eyes fall to the sidewalk. “You don’t have to pretend you care about her. I know you’re only doing this because of him.”

If he’d denied it immediately, you wouldn’t have believed him. If he’d sworn that Suguru had nothing to do with it, if he’d dropped to his knees in front of you, if he’d told you that he loved you, you wouldn’t have believed him. But, in the end, he only pursed his lips, his head lulling to the side as he considered it. “At first, yeah,” he admitted, tracing patterns into Himari’s back. “I heard that he’d gotten with someone and… I got curious. I guess I was a little jealous.” He paused, his tone abrupt going light and sheepish. “I might’ve gone a little overboard, in retrospect – making the brats go to your school and following you around and all. I just wanted to see what kind of person could make Suguru go soft, but then I saw how you were with the little princess—” He lifted Himari above his head, grinning up at her while she spouted happy gibberish. “—and fell for you, head over heels. All I could think about was gathering you both up in my arms and takin’ you home.”

“You make us sound like stray animals.”

“I mean, you kind of are, right?” You jutted your elbow into his side, and he rolled his eyes dramatically. “Okay, okay, you’re runaways. I didn’t know you were so pedantic, (Y/n).”

He slotted Himari against his hip, his attention momentarily falling away from her as he shot a quick, teasing smile in your direction. “I like you.” His voice was soft, dull – like he was saying something you didn’t already know. Like he was giving something away. “And I want you to stick around.”

“I’m sure Suguru would’ve said the same thing.”

“I’m not like Suguru.” He found your hand, his fingers soon intertwined with yours. “I wouldn’t let you go so easily.”

You opened your mouth, but closed it again just as quickly. Ahead of you, Tsumiki turned on her heel and waved excitedly. She’d picked a café (presumably with minimal input from Megumi); a picturesque little spot with a sun-speckled patio and overgrown garden boxes. Satoru’s hand tightened around yours, tugging you forward, and just this time, you didn’t bother trying to pull away.

The man on his knees in front of you was older – his hair receding and dotted with grey. A salaryman, you guessed, judging by his wrinkled suit, the ink stains on his sleeves. You couldn’t see his expression, not with his forehead pressed against the floor of Suguru’s sanctuary, but you could hear the pain in his voice as he pled for Suguru’s help, see the slight tremble in his shoulders. You didn’t have to assume the cause of his distress.

You couldn’t be sure when you started to see the spirits – or, the curses, you mean. It must’ve been around the end of the first trimester; your little glimpses at crooked monsters and mangled beasts solidifying into full, unrelenting exposure. Suguru suggested (after he’d finished celebrating what he would, later on, refer to as the best day of his life) that it might be a symptom of the pregnancy, that carrying a sorcerer’s child may’ve triggered some pocket of laden cursed energy buried inside of you, but you couldn’t help but think of it as some kind of cosmic punishment, even if you couldn’t begin to guess what you were being punished for.

It had to be a punishment, though. If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be watching a small swarm of winged, imp-like creatures bite and scratch at the cowering salaryman, each swipe of their claws and nip of their pointed teeth enough to leave ragged, bloody stripes in his arms, his back. You felt bile rise into the back of your throat, but forced yourself not to shut your eyes, to keep your expression one of unbothered neutrality. Suguru would help him, just like he helped you.

As if by way of encouragement, you let your nails scrape over his scalp. After you started showing, the only job Suguru deemed you capable of was that of his new headrest. He took care of everything else – petitioning for maternity leave, moving you out of your flat and into the villa he shared with his girls, rewriting every little aspect of your life to better the role you’d inhabit for the next nine months: his pregnant wife. Currently, he was on his side, on leg bent at the knee and his head propped on your thighs, your fingers threaded through his hair. You’d cringed at the idea, at first, but Suguru insisted that it wouldn’t be an issue. The perks of leading your own cult, you guessed. No one could challenge his authority when he was the only authority they could possibly look to.

After a moment longer than you would’ve liked, Suguru cut off the salaryman’s incoherent rambling with a slight hum. Immediately, the salaryman fell silent, and Suguru let his head lull to the side, leaning into your palm. “Manami,” he started, addressing his assistant. She’d been called in shortly after the salaryman made his entrance. “How long has it been since our honored sponsor’s last donation?”

She glanced toward her tablet. “It’ll be five months this week.”

The salaryman scrambled to apologize. “I—I’m sorry, my store went out of business, and I—”

The corner of Suguru’s lips quirked downward. The entirety of the swarm descended onto the salaryman before you could so much as flinch away.

To say they tore him apart would be an understatement. One second, he was there, bowing in front of you, and the next, little more scraps of fabric and disembodied viscera decorated the floor of the sanctuary. Suguru snapped his fingers and, in an instant, the creatures vanished – leaving behind only gore and the thick stench of copper hanging in the stagnant air. Your hand stilled in Suguru’s hair. You might’ve passed out, if you’d been able to process what you’d just watched.

Suguru took notice of your distress quickly. That, or he just wanted to bask in his kill more privately. “If I could be alone with my wife for a moment, Manami.”

Her eyes flickered to you, lingering for a moment before she bowed her head. “Of course, Geto-sama. I’ll fetch someone to clean up this mess.”

Once she was gone, Suguru rolled onto his back, letting his eyes fall shut. “These fucking monkeys,” he sighed, with a shake of his head. “I swear, they’ll be the death of me. They can’t even seem to die without causing more trouble than they’re worth.”

“You can control them?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific, dear.”

“The spirits.” And then again, with more urgency, “You can control them?”

His exasperation was swiftly replaced with self-satisfaction so potent, you could nearly taste it. “Would you expect anything less from me? Only a handful are strong enough to be helpful, but even pests can be put to good use.”

You felt like an idiot for asking. You felt like an idiot for having to ask, but you just couldn’t seem to stop yourself. “My spirit. The one I came to you for.” It felt like your tongue was coated in salt and ask. “Was he one of the stronger spirits?”

A beat lapsed in silence, then another.

Finally, Suguru let out a long, raspy exhale and brought a hand to your stomach. “I hope it’s a girl,” he muttered, almost absent-mindedly. “I hope she looks just like you.”

You took a single, stilted breath.

When you met your daughter a few months later, impossibly tiny and infinitely lovable and so agonizingly helpless, it would almost be a relief to see Suguru’s face staring back at you.

“She has your eyes.”

You heard his voice before you saw his face, but you would’ve known Suguru from aura alone. You froze in the doorway of the unlit nursery, searching for him in the darkness, but Suguru didn’t make himself hard to find.

“Not the color, but the shape.” He was standing next to the cradle, a soft smile painted across his lips and your daughter in his arms. She was sleeping, and you were thankful for it. You’d kept Himari away from him as much as you’d been able to in the weeks leading up to your escape, but even their minimal exposure had seemed crushing, at the time. Above all else, you never wanted your daughter to be able to recognize her father’s face. “Oh, but she must have my temperament. I’ve heard she rarely cries, even with nuisances like Satoru around.”

You’d left your phone in the living room. Satoru wasn’t home and he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning, but maybe, if you screamed, someone would hear you. Maybe, you’d be able to run while Suguru tore them apart, limb by limb.

In the end, it was all you could do to make yourself speak – your voice thin and prone to catching in your throat. “Get out of my apartment.”

“But this isn’t your apartment, is it?” With a quiet, hushing sound, he lowered Himari back into her cradle and turned to face you. “Honestly, if I’d known you were just going to run into another man’s arms, I would’ve been more careful with you. I wonder if you’ll feel more loyal to your husband with a chain around your neck.”

“You manipulated me. You made me have a ba—”

“I loved you.” He cut you off with all the delicacy of a rusty knife sawing through flesh. “I do love you, even if I’m starting to question how much of it you deserve.”

He stepped forward. You wanted to turn away from him, to run, but your body was uncooperative, too rigid to do anything more than shake as he came to stand in front of you. “Can you say it back to me? Just this once.” He brought a hand to your cheek. “I’ll forgive you for everything, if you do.”

You tried to. Not for him, but for your daughter – made expendable by her failure to keep you bound to Suguru. You tried to, but all that slipped past your parted lips was a wordless cry, torn and anguished and far from what he’d asked for.

“No?” He feigned disappointment, letting out an airy sigh. “I guess that’s to be expected.”

He took a deep breath, then rested his head against the dip of your shoulder. His hand fell to your stomach as he spoke into your skin.

“Maybe, after we have our second, you’ll change your mind.”

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quaintii · 11 months

Text

The Prey and the Predator

a/n: first time writing smut, so I am new here! I'll try my best 🪱

Wrd Cnt: I dunno ^-^

Warnings: breeding kink, aftercare, oral, spanking, choking, little bdsm, dom!Miguel, sub!reader, fang kink, size kink, stomach bulge, blood-play, hair pulling, suffocation?, p with plot? prob more. MDNI !

Summary: Miguel has been trying to catch you after you have been messing up with the timeline. You're an obnoxious villain most say. You have quite a hunch on Miguel and you love playing around with him, he caught your eye so attentively and you love seeing him angry. Miguel has had enough with this stubbornness of yours and wants to catch you once and for all to stop messing up his plans.

enjoy <3

This was the 5th time today you've messed with him. Miguel was seriously starting to get fed up with your games. He tried to catch you multiple times but you have an invisibility power. You love treating him like a dog on a leash, always coming towards you. You have messed with many other people before but it hasn't been as much as fun as this, you love seeing him angry. Sometimes you stalk him to see what his plans are. You are always near him, just invisible. Since he lacks Spidey sense it makes things much more easier. But he's very attentive with sound because he has enhanced senses.

"I'm so fucking done with her fucking games and bullshit. She's so fucking annoying. Ya es la quinta vez que ha hecho esto." Miguel said while heavily sighing with irritation. "Si lo vuelve acer.. la voy acer que se arrepienta."

You giggled as you kept rewinding the face that Miguel would do whenever he was pissed. You find him quite interesting that you want to prey on him more and see how far his tolerance limit can go. You quit trying to deny your attraction to him cause god his physique drives you insane. Your body is desperately wanting for his grasp on your throat.

As the next day passes, you decide to continue your daily annoyance in messing up his plans to remove every anomaly in the wrong universe. You follow him around about everywhere when you have nothing better to do. You cause him ton of stress by causing ruckus in many different universes. Thing is, he's starting to catch onto your patterns. Which will soon lead him to finally grab a hold on you.

You fortunately make a 'small' ruckus by causing another anomaly to escape from the HQ. Miguel and other spiders are working on a mission to catch this villain while you stand back watching it like a movie. He already knows it was you because your patterns are always consistent. You rest so carelessly, not worrying about a single thing. Your eyes intoxicatingly staring deep into Miguel. You're basically craving him to the point you touch yourself at the thought of him.

It's midnight by now and you're crouching down on the floor in a abandoned broken down building in a random universe. You just couldn't get the thought of him wandering his hands around your body. Touching every crevice of it. You couldn't hold back anymore and touched your core. Rubbing it with your palms slowly but with a rhythmic pace, you start heavily panting out of frustration as it's not enough for your satisfaction of immense pleasure you desire.

You desperately want more so you remove your pants and pull your red undergarments to the side. Using your slick wetness as lube to rub your clit in slow circles. You roll your head back and you whimper lightly.

You stick your fingers inside your cunt, feeling some relief of pleasure but not enough. You start chasing your high as your mind starts to drift to Miguel pounding you so unrelentingly with no mercy. You start moaning his name as a prayer between gasps. Your stomach starts to feel a tight snap and ecstacy washes over your body. You pant stiffly and rub off your cum on your suit.

"God, I seriously cannot believe I'm doing this...this is so fucking embarrassing for me." You say with an expression of disappointment.

You go a couple of days without messing with Miguel because you just can't seem to control yourself whenever he's near you, even when he doesn't know you're there. So you decide to pay him a visit at the HQ and see what thing you should do today. You're unusually nervous this time, wondering if you'll mess anything up. You feel so incredibly queasy around him now.

As you find a portal, you sneak your way in with your invisibility power. You see Miguel watching and scrolling thru some screens and you just can't stop glaring at him sitting on his desk. You had a sudden urge to just climb on top of him and straddle him with your hips. You started having lewd thoughts and you started having a pool of arousal grow the more you stood there.

Little did you know, Miguel could sniff your wetness. He knew it was you because he remembers your scent. As he scrolls through the perspective cams, he finally shuts them down. He pretends he's not aware you're in the same room with him, in his office. Alone together.

"Didn't figure I'd finally catch you." Miguel said with a sly smirk. "You are such a fucking intolerance that I can't stand, I mean you mess with my missions half of the time..god you're such an annoyance! You know that right?" He said while walking closer towards you.

Until out of nowhere, he immediately uses his red lasso and webs to pin you onto a wall. You audibly gasp because you find this completely unexpected. You quickly start thinking what caused him to find what place you were at. How did he know you were there? This was unusual because other times you were around him, he didn't do anything. But your arousal just began to grow even wetter.

"H-how did you know I was here?!?" You said with worry. "I promise I was just playing around, I didn't mean anything horrible. I p-promise, please don't hurt me!" You beg. You try getting out of his grasp but your hands are winded behind your back. You hate to admit it but you're getting even more turned on by this.

"Ay cariño... podía oler tu excitación..Hueles tan bien..como dulce..por fin te tengo en la palma de mis manos amor.." He says while chuckling lowly.

You were struggling to get out his web, your eyes still on his, watching him creep closer to you second by second. Your heart starts racing so fast when he's above you. Miguel is so much more taller than you. You only understood a bit of Spanish but god did you adore his accent.

"Stay still f'me, mi vida. Vuevles aver me? Ya sé que te encantó haciendo estos juegos, muñeca. Queda quieta..stay still.." Miguel says with a tone of lustfulness.

"Please Miguel, I really meant no harm..please let me go. " You keep babbling incoherent words because the only thing you can focus on is his collarbone, his amazing physique. His biceps flex with every move, god how badly you want him to choke you with his hands. His prominent veins also catch your eyes. You observe every aspect of him especially what's between his thighs.

You hold back a stifled moan just from staring at him. Your mind starts racing with so many ways this could possibly go.

"You shouldn't have messed with me, amor. You should always keep in mind how your actions always come with consequences, right cariño? Y'know.. you really caused me a lot of stress these past few days. It's not so easy catching a dangerous anomaly almost everyday, muneca." He said while his muscles begin to tense. He absolutely loved the way he caged over your small body. He could just eat you right then and there.

"Mejor un sabor de tu coño me hace sentir mejor, bebé." His tone dripping with amusement.

"M-miguel.. I don't think you're thinking straight. Okay! I'm sorry about what I've done, I won't do it ever again!"

"Oh I promise you won't do it ever again. I should teach you a lesson. Will you be a good girl for me?"

You try your best to not give into your deep pleasures, so you continue to put up your arrogant side. "Miguel, you wouldn't dare to touch me because you don't know what horrible things I would do this place! I will ruin you!" You yell with fake confidence.

Miguel chuckles darkly. "Not if I ruin you first cariño. Look how cute you look squirming. I think I would love to keep you around as a stress relief toy, què no? I think you and I would both enjoy that." Miguel finally stands infront of you and crouches to your height.

"mmm, smell so good.. let me fill you up, amor. I could smell you miles away..you're so wet for me. You know you want this."

You try denying it as much as you could, you couldn't believe what Miguel was even uttering. Your brain starts fogging up and you finally give up.

"I-i do Miguel. I crave you. I can't hold myself anymore whenever I see you, I want your cock inside me please Miguel." You beg.

"Such a needy little slut aren't you? You want this cock so bad..don't you?" You nod slowly, biting your lower lip. Miguel finally released you from his webs and you immediately flop to the ground on your hands and knees. You look at him through your lashes.

"You look so pretty on your knees for me, cariño. I should do something with that pretty mouth of yours, que no? " He said with a sneer spreading across his face.

"Please Miguel do anything to me.." You say with a whimper in your voice. You're starting to get impatient and your cunt is now soaking wet, longing for something long and girthy inside of you. Your lips hang open. You stare at his crotch and approach your hands to his bulge. God, he was huge.

He slaps your hands away from approaching him. "Who said you could do that, amor? I'm the one who controls around here. You'll do anything I'll say like a good girl right?" Miguel said while huffing, your position on your knees has him holding every restraint he has left in him. "Si Miguel." You say.

He presses his index finger on your chin, lifting it up to face him. "Remember no teasing cariño, only I do that. Do that and you'll get a punishment." Miguel removed his suit and his physique was even more amazingly sculpted. His boxers were then brought to his knees and his cock sprung free. The brown tip leaking with pre-cum. It's begging to be sucked.

You part your lips open and hold onto his length, both of your hands don't even cover him. You lick his pre-cum from the tip like a kitten. You do circles with your tongue on his tip, making him more sensitive.

Miguel's mind starts fogging up with what many things he wants to do to that pretty little pussy of yours and make you his slut.

You then try taking his length in your warm, silky mouth, his cock twitching, begging for more warmth. As you take half of him in your throat, you bob your head up and down in a rhythmic pace. You stroke the rest of him that doesn't fit inside your mouth. You start moaning and panting when you take him, you try going even deeper. Your throat starts choking.

You then look up at Miguel. He has the most lustful expression you've ever seen. His eyebrows are furrowed together, he's biting his lips. Staring deep into your soul with his crimson eyes.

"Ay muñeca, me haces.. fuck.. sentir mejor.." He said while looking down at your small figure taking his length slowly. Miguel was tired with teasing and was barely holding by a thread from throat fucking your throat.

You release your lips around him to breathe. A string of pre-cum from your lips and his cock made him finally lose it. Miguel couldn't hold himself back anymore. All of his morals go out the window as he violently bucks his hips against your throat. Mounts of tears start to stream down your face as his cock runs so deep and warm down your throat. It hurts as first but it then drives you insane.

The sound of sucking and popping echoes through the room. He's so close, you can feel it. You look up at him, battering your wet lashes at him. Taking him like a good girl, you thought.

His head rolls back and his jaw tightens as he's reaching his limit. Your throat wrapping around his cock made him twitch uncontrollably. Your soft tongue swirling around him also aroused him. Miguel was holding onto the wall to stay still because your throat feels so amazing. He starts wondering how euphoric your pussy must feel.

He then loudly groans and curses in Spanish under his breath as he thrusts one more time down your throat to spread his seed. His cum tastes salty then sweet. It's a treat for you. You drink all of his cum, swirling your tongue around his cock, making sure you take every last droplet.

"Mierda..eres magnífica, ma." He says while heavily panting. "Your throat fits my cock perfectly." Miguel looks at you up and down hungrily. He then grabs your arm and places you on top of his desk. He throws everything on the floor. You're his only focus now.

You're cunt is throbbing for something, it feels so empty. You haven't been able to satisfy yourself so you run your hands to rub your clothed clit but Miguel slaps your ass before you do.

"Only I can do that, mi vida. You can't touch yourself without my permission. Ahora.. quítate la ropa." He said with heavy impatience. The idea aroused you.

You do so, you slowly tease him as you remove your suit. Going from top to bottom. Removing every clothing off your body. Miguel hungrily follows your curves. He eyes you so lustfully. You're now fully naked in front of him. He can't stop staring at your pussy. Miguel's gaze is almost unreadable.

Suddenly, he grabs your throat, almost choking you. You try talking but you just give up because you enjoy this too much to even talk back. "What did I say about teasing me cariño? I thought you were going to be a good slut for me.. y'know I don't wanna play games with you anymore."

You moan as his grip remains on your stronger and your body hitched as the cold air washes over you. Your nipples are perked up, begging for some attention. "Now let me touch you, princessa." Miguel kneels down and whispers "puta madre, eres una maravilla.." at your cunt. His warm breath makes you twitch. You can't hold back anymore and want some sort of touch. His fingers separate your lips to see your glistening cunt. His dark, crimson eyes bore into yours as he pushed two fingers up your pretty cunt.

"You're so wet... are you that needy for my cock, princessa?" He said while smirking devilsly. Your back immediately arched back when he licked your slick wetness. He licked and sucked softly on your clit. He swirls his tongue around your clit in circles, driving you insane. You desperately want more so you buck your hips against his face and grab onto his hair. Miguel slaps your pussy again. "What did I tell you, princessa, be a good slut for daddy." "No one else will ever suck your pretty pussy this good like me, ma, nobody." You let out a loud moan as he slides in his girthy, scarred fingers inside your plushy, soft walls.

" M-miguel.." a soft whimper fell from your lips as you pull his hair between your thighs. He can't wait to stuff his big cock inside your soft, warm pussy. He wants you to beg for him, ache for him, moan his name like a prayer continuously. He goes a steady pace, sliding his fingers in and out while licking your clit. You feel so amazing, you roll your head and your eyes to the back of your skull as you feel your dirty desires finally being fulfilled. Miguel bit the inside of your thighs with his fangs, marking you his and his only.

His cock twitched at the feeling of your soft, silky walls around his fingers, tightening around him. "Look at your cunt.. fuck cariño, tightening around me like a needy bitch. Hm? Tell me how bad you want my cock, ma. Beg for it."

"P-please Miguel, I want your fucking cock inside of my cunt, make me your slut. Fuck me already please." You say while you mewl and whine as his fingers starts sliding in faster than before, you feel something familiar in your lower abdomen. You feel something coming up and you finally snap. You moan loud throughout your orgasm, your legs start twitching uncontrollably as you tighten your thighs around Miguel's head. "M-miguel please stop!" You whine. You started to feel so overstimulated when Miguel sucks your clit, attentively watching your expressions. You try pushing him off but your strength doesn't budge. You start slightly tearing up as you feel you'll completely crumble to pieces and pass out. Miguel finally stops.

"Todavía quieres que juega con tu coño, ma? Sabes tan rica. Cómo dulce caramelo. Eres mia." He said gruffly. "Look at me, mama." You face your eyes at his, begging him to fuck you without mercy just with your eyes. His cock is twitching and he couldn't hold back no more. "Use your words, ma.. do you want my cock?" He grins. He teased you with his cock as he runs it up and down your slick cunt. "Yes Miguel, ple-", you were cut off as he immediately thrusted into your pussy without warning. You screamed out of immense pleasure. "F-FUCK." You've never felt this full before, he took up all the air in your lungs in a second as he started thrusting hard into your cervix. You were now uncontrollably mewing and whining his name non-stop.

"Such a pretty pussy just for me. All mine..look how your dirty pussy keeps sucking me in, princessa.. mierda.." You try rolling your hips at his dick to receive even more friction but he slaps your ass harshly. Over and over, making you scream. "Que te dije, amor." Miguel keeps staring when his cock enters your pussy deep after each thrust. Your hips feel like completely giving up, if it weren't for him holding onto your hips and waist, you would've fallen by now. Your eyes bore into Miguel's eyes and he does the same. He loved seeing how he made you feel, your facial expressions of gasping and panting.. begging for more, made his dick harden. The skin to skin contact drew you and him insane, he started becoming primal. Animalistic.

He loves how his cock feels balls deep inside your warm walls. Sliding easily in and out. Your eyes couldn't stop rolling back as your hips twitched against his. Miguel then started teasing your perked nipples, that finally received some attention. His mouth sucked on your tits, hungrily. He would softly bite it to get more of a reaction out of you. You were even more turned on as he would rest his neck on your shoulder. Kissing your neck, leaving you with hickeys everywhere. He brought out his fangs to taste you even more.

You yelped when his fangs sunk deep into you skin, you felt so intoxicated by the overwhelming pleasure when he start sucking your blood. Your body was starting to limp. He wouldn't let go of his fast space. He starts grabbing a strong hold of your throat and hair. He wanted you all over his body. He pulls your chest to his chest, reaching more amazing spots.

"M-miguel! Please.. I can't take anymore.. please stop, please Miguel it's too m-much f'me." You feel his bulge stick out of your stomach. You wondered how he even fits inside you. "No muñeca..I know you can take this like a good slut, your pussy wants this. Don't deny it." Miguel pants."M-miguel please!" You whine as it pleasure slowly becomes overwhelming for you. Without having another say, he immediately flips you on your chest on his desk, bringing your ass up and tying your hands behind your back so you wouldn't intefere. You found yourself almost collapsing just to the touch of his body weighing down in yours. "I can do anything I want to you, you're my slut. You're my slut! Say it!" Miguel says while panting as he managed to slam even deeper into your cunt at this angle. He grabs your throat, making you face him. "Dígalo, mi corazón. Say you're my pretty little dirty slut." "M-miguel, I'm your fucking..s-slut." You slur your words as you could barely hold words in your throat. Your moans would pronounce Miguel's name incoherently over and over.

The sounds of moaning and skin slapping against each other echoes throughout the room. "feels s'good fuck..mierda. Look what you do to me." You endlessly mewl and whine and moan loudly as he continues to slam his girthy cock, hitting your g-spot. Your back manages to arch even more. Allowing him to go deeper inside you than you ever imagined was even possible.

His hands travel to your clit, rubbing it so slowly. Your mouth is completely agape, gasping for air. He leaves soft kisses down your spine and you shiver as he marks you again with his fangs on your shoulders. His talons begin to tightly grip your hips. Leaving bruises on it for later. The low growls of his whiny voice caused you clench tighter around his cock, causing him to twitch. You were so close, you felt it and he did too.

"Going to fill this pretty pussy full of my cum, princess. Cum for me cariño, do it for me. Make me feel good. Want your pussy to tighten around me." With those words being said, your legs and pussy spasm uncontrollably around his rough, thick cock.

He continued thrusting a few more times inside you, overstimulating you beyond the edge. Both of your bodies emit groans, growls, gasps, and pleasurable moans. "F-fuck I'm so c-close, baby..god. Mierda, amo tu coño." He finally cums inside your pussy, the overwhelming pleasure makes you faint for a while. Miguel finally pulls out and groans as he sees his semen leak out your pussy. "I want you to be full of me.." He pushed two fingers up your cunt to make sure his cum would stay there. He pumps his cum back into your womb.

You now fall completely unconscious as the overwhelmed pleasure took over you. A couple hours later, you wake up next to Miguel. He was staring at you sleeping. You try getting up but Miguel placed you back down on the bed. "No baby, your body needs to rest. You're tired. If you want anything, just ask me muñeca." He said while smiling. You never saw this caring side of him, you loved it already. "Why were you staring at me sleeping, Miguel?" You said with a raspy voice. "You look angelic all the time, cariño. Even when moaning my name." He said while smirking. You feel your cheeks heating up as you vividly remember everything from last night. It was so intense that your body was so sore. For now, all that mattered is that Miguel is with you, taking care of you.

A/n: THAT WAS A LOT for my first time, hope u guys enjoy :3 translations below!

Translations: "cariño": sweetheart

"Muñeca": doll

"Mierda": fuck

"Princessa"- princess

"Amo tu coño": I love your pussy.

"Dígalo mi corazón": Say it, my love

"Que te dije amor": What did I tell you, love

"Todavía quieres que juega con tu coño, ma? Sabes tan rica. Cómo dulce caramelo. Eres mia" : You still want me to play with your pussy, ma? You taste so good. Like caramel candy. You're mine.

"Puta madre, eres una maravilla." -- Holy shit, you're so amazing.

"Ahora. Quítate la ropa." -- Now. Take off your clothes.

"Ya es la quinta vez que ha hecho esto." - It's already the 5th time she's done this.

"Si lo vuelve acer.. la voy acer que se arrepienta." - If ehe does it again... I'm make her regret.

#miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #smut #hehe oops #:33333 #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #my pookie #Spotify

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yourmoonie · 3 months

Text

How to live in the end

Are you feeling anxious about your upcoming photoshoot? Your exams? Sp? Or maybe an event that hasn't occurred yet?

I have got your back

1. Focus on your end goal and not on the "lack/circumstances"

Our fave stickman wants to go to Barbados, but instead of focusing on Barbados (aka the end goal) he starts focusing on not having the tickets or not having the money to buy the tickets (circumstances)

His entire attention is on the circumstance and not on the end goal

“Because of your belief in external things you think power into them by transferring the power that you are to the external thing. Realize you yourself are the power you have mistakenly given to outer conditions.” ― Neville Goddard, Your Faith is Your Fortune

2. Thinking from THE end

This is based on the timeline jumping method ( the thread, ♡ the visual thread )

So what do we do here?

Tickets are just the bridge of events for your end goal

We mentally go to Barbados and think FROM Barbados and not OF it

(That's how Neville manifested his trip, btw)

"Thinking from the end is the beginning of all miracles" - Neville Goddard

The art of thinking from the end is about internally seeing the world as you would see it if your desire has already been achieved, even if it hasn't physically manifested yet.

3. Not seeing any movement?

The stickman has got a photoshoot at MoonMoon studio in 2 weeks

On top of that the stickman is manifesting their desired body

> Out of the blue, the stickman gets anxious about their desired body and how they would look during the photoshoot because they "can't" see the results in the 3D

"The journey is in yourself. You travel along the highways of the inner world. Without inner movement, it is impossible to bring forth anything." - Neville Goddard

4. Think FROM & AFTER your desire

They become anxious about the photoshoot BUT

How can the stickman get out of that anxious state?

Instead of thinking OF the photoshoot, they will think FROM and AFTER the photoshoot

They will mentally imagine that the event has already occurred

5. How to get into the state

And they ask themselves this question

"How do I feel now when the photoshoot is done?"

"Wow, I like how the photos have turned out. I look so hot,"

They mentally prepare themselves for the best outcome and it helps them to get out of the anxious state

Inner action is an introverted sensation. If you will construct mentally a drama which implies that you have realised your objective, then close your eyes and drop your thoughts inward, centering your imagination all the while in the predetermined action and partake in that action, you will become a self-determined being.

6. You are THE observer

The Timeline jumping method in nutshell:

This is how you think FROM + After your desire

The observer effect in quantum physics states that where you direct your attention is where you place your energy. As a consequence, you affect the material world. - Joe Dispenza

“Imagination is the act of creation. Imagination creates reality." - Neville Goddard

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baldursgate3tempobsessed · 7 months

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Astarion teaching Tav embroidery/sewing. Preferably with him dragging them onto his lap for a close-up demonstration.

Why do I make everything so long? Do I have a problem? There is always so much introspective nonsense idk man. Anyway adorable idea actualized below!

Also mentions of sex but this is totally sfw. I went with the timeline of when your sleeping together but he hasn't quite admitted his feelings to himself, as a side!

Astarion had no idea how he became your camp's designated seamstress. How was it possible that a team of eight adults were all incapable of knowing the basics of such a fundamental skill?

Then again, Karlach seemed to be perfectly fine with wearing her clothes to tatters. Wyll was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Lae'zel, for some gods forsaken reason, was only capable of fixing up heavy armor. Gale seemed to prefer eating magical clothing items versus being able to salvage them and the rest were mediocre at best.

The look of confusion on Shadowheart's, who was the second most skilled by far, face when Astarion tried to explain a ladder stitch was enough for him to give up entirely. It was quicker to fix the tears then to explain simple concepts to simpletons.

Brats. All of you. With one who was significantly more brazen than the rest when it came to using Astarion as their personal tailor.

Tav, the lovely thorn in his side. Who could handle wielding a glaive with startingly accuracy, but somehow managed to consistently stab themselves every time they picked up a sewing needle. It was impressive, how useless someone who was otherwise extremely competent could be.

Impressive as it was frustrating. Because somehow you managed to destroy your clothes more often than anyone else. Always bashfully handing him over torn trousers and ripped shirts every other night. Anyone else he would have told to fuck off by now. Even the rest of the camp knew better than to test their luck with anything more than once a fortnight. But you lacked the very basic level of self-control.

It was his own fault for giving you special treatment in the first place. But sleeping together did warrant a few extra benefits. He got your protection and you got to experience the pleasure of being with him. Simple. Or it would have been if you didn't insist on making things complicated.

Because Astarion was starting to feel things. Things that he hadn't anticipated. Because your company was... oddly pleasant. You were an interesting little thing, he had to give you that. Well-read and talkative, but not boringly so. No, Astarion sometimes found himself losing track of time when he was with you. A simple question could easily turn into a two-hour conversation about the silliest things. It was... nice. New. And oh so different from what he was used to.

Cazador didn't even allow him or his brethren to speak in his home, let alone speak to each other unless it was strictly necessary. But here he was free to do whatever he pleased. And he was finding that included being near you, despite how differently you both saw the world.

He couldn't quite blame you for your delusional optimistic views. As a Tymora worshipper you were basically doomed from the start to believe inane concepts like good fortune, luck, and gods, the good that could be found in "anyone".

You were as sweet as you were aggravating and Astarion truly, honestly, had no idea how your insane trusting nature hadn't managed to get you killed yet. But then again he... kind of liked that about you. He liked that you trusted him. It made his life more convienet and... it was nice to be seen as a person worth confiding in. Instead of the blood-sucking monster he really was.

He... liked that. He liked you. A fact that he didn't enjoy thinking about. He didn't really know what to do with it, and the implications of where his feelings could lead were starting to become unsettling. So he pushed it out of his mind. It was an easy thing to do when doom was always looming in the background. He had plenty of things to think about that didn't include his fondness for you.

Like the inner-rage you caused when you managed to somehow rip the same shirt twice in one day.

"That's it," Astarion announced when you bashfully asked for his help yet again, "Come here. I'm teaching you how to sew."

"But you always get mad when you try," You whined. But despite the hesitancy you still obediently sat next to him as he got out the sewing kit, "Do you promise not to snap this time?"

"That depends," Astarion said with a roll of the eyes, "Do you intend on not maiming yourself with a sewing needle?"

Astarion smirked at the way that made a blush crawl up your neck, "That was one time!"

"Actually darling it was closer to seven," Astarion corrected as he snatched the shirt from your hands, "Now pay attention. Look at where the tear starts. Notice how it's on the seam?"

You nodded along as Astarion explained the basics to you. He could tell that you were trying your damndest to pay attention, but when it was your turn to hold the needle your hands couldn't stop shaking. Astarion frowned as he tried to watch you work, his view obfuscated by the angle and the flow of your hair.

Well that wouldn't do.

Before he could think better of it he was hauling you into his lap, ignoring your surprised squeak as he situated you just right.

That was better. At least now he could see what you were doing. It was a sloppy stich, sloppy enough for him to undo it before putting the needle back in your hand.

"Now do it again," Astarion ordered, "Let me see what your doing wrong."

Astarion watched as you tried again, frowning when he realized your shaking was even worse than before. In fact, you seemed more nervous than ever, your face red as you kept your eyes down.

It made Astarion torn between watching your hands and looking at your face. You really were adorable, getting all worked up from simply being in his lap, all while trying to stay dutifully undistracted. He could almost hear your heart racing, obvious through the tension coursing through you.

Silly little thing, acting all shy like he hadn't already literally been inside of you. But at least you were doing better, your stitching straighter than Astarion had ever seen it. Maybe he'd have to make the lap-sitting mandatory from now on, for the good of your learning.

"See," Astarion said softly, his breath tickling your ear as he leaned in closer, "You're perfectly capable of learning this."

"So it looks good?" You asked, taking a chance to glance at him. Astarion hadn't realized just how close the two of you really were. He had never... seen you like this before. So closely. Even when you slept together, he had been a bit distracted by other parts of your body. He never noticed just how many light freckles were hiding across the bridge of your nose, how your eyes looked almost golden in candlelight. You smelled nice too, sweet. Like you had been rolling around in a field of lilies. Considering your personality, Astarion had to wonder if that's exactly what you did.

It would take almost nothing to press your lips together. Barely a turn on the head.

"Astarion, are you listening?"

The sound of his voice snapped him out of his revelry. He straightened, clearing his throat as he looked over your work again, embarrassed in a way that he couldn't quite describe.

Maybe you weren't the only one being affected after all.

"It looks better," Astarion said honestly, "But still needs work. You'll almost certainly be needing more lessons."

Preferably like this. Astarion wasn't quite ready to let you go yet, not when you felt so pleasantly warm in his lap. But luckily enough for him, you didn't seem quite so keen to leave.

Astarion tightened his hold on you laughing at the way it made you gasp, "But that's enough for today. I think you've earned a reward. Don't you?"

"I-yes?" You said back, your eyes flitting from Astarion's mouth and back, "Please?"

You really were too precious. How could he possibly say no to that?

Astarion grinned as he tilted your chin up, finally pressing your lips together. It was an odd feeling, kissing someone when he couldn't stop smiling, but he supposed you just had that effect on him.

Maybe being the camp seamstress wasn't so bad after all.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #asks #cutsey #this was a very cute idea

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drchucktingle · 2 months

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Mr Chuck, wizard of gay romance, I consult ye. Without knowing a damn thing about the plot of the book I'm writing other than it is gay and has themes of hunger, consumption, joy in spite of suffering, and the fleeting nature of life, how should my story end?

well to create we need to consume, this is how we produce energy and multiply and build. since beginning of time from frothing volcanos to tiny microbes CREATION and CONSUMPTION are linked. in addition an act of creation is an act of love, it is filling the empty void with SOMETHING and that is as powerful and important as it gets

i think what confuses MANY buckaroos is they get caught up by the consumption part. they see this equation i have laid out and say 'well if consuming leads to creation and creation is to point then we must consume everything as a moral imperative.' i mean HECK that is capitalism in a dang nutshell right there. if you trot this path it says the bigger fish should eat the little one, and that war and power are sort of innate. you see a lot of goofball conservative philosophers with melted brains stop here and set up shop to peddle their sad wares

THE PROBLEM IS consuming everything that you can DOES NOT ACTUALLY LEAD TO MORE CREATION IN PRACTICE. maybe sometimes in the very short term, but at the end of the dang trot it leads to destruction on a massive scale. if the biggest fish eats ALL the little fish then it is not just the little fish who dies it is BOTH of them. if you seek power through TAKING AND CONSUMING all that you can you will do more harm than good. you may puff up your chest for a little while but eventually you will go beyond your means and crumble.

consuming yields the best results when you do it in sustainable way, when you share with your neighbor, when you build a community. this is because LOVE is the best fuel and love thrives when buds work together to create a greater whole than themselves. even if you use example of TAKING through violence, ten little cave buckaroos as a team will always take down one big cave buckaroo. COMMUNITY PROVES LOVE. TEAMWORK PROVES LOVE. CONNECTION PROVES LOVE.

fortunately, as much as scoundrels want to convince us that fighting and violence and TAKING is the best way to grow as a dang species, it is not. humans thrived not because of some primal hierarchy (as goofball conservatives say) but because we started villages and societies and systems of working together. the buds who put their chips behind the BIGGEST FISH are only seeing one part of the picture. YES sometimes in the animal kingdom the biggest beast will win the fight, but that is why THEY ARE BEASTS AND WE ARE PEOPLE. we evolved to greater heights as we grew bigger brains for sharing and empathy and love and complexity. WE STARTED COMMUNITIES, BECAUSE WITHIN COMMUNITY CREATION AND LOVE THRIVE. THE 'REAL' BIGGEST FISH IS KINDNESS.

so hunger and consuming are ACTUALLY an important part of creation. they are part of bringing joy to this timeline, so long as you are not endlessly hungry even after you are full, and so long as you are not consuming what could be better shared with a bud.

hope that helps with your story buckaroo

#love is real #buckaroo lifestyle #art theory

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horus-unofficial · 3 months

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hello hello welcome welcome. welcome 2 the HORUS guide 4 HORUS tech aka horus-unofficial.tumblr3.un gives you extremely comprehensive and very useful insight into its "pattern groups" and "licenses". we are your host harold HORUS here today to talk to you about our beautiful darling cunt of a child, the LICH

nobody knows how the lich came 2 be. some buddies of ours say they invented it 9989 years from now which is weird bcos anyone normal would wait another decade before sending that shit back in time to hit that sweet 9999 and keep people guessing as to whether these files actually are from that far in the future, or if the lucky terminal receiving this code just stopped bothering to count the years after 15015u. either way, the lich is here now, and back then, and most certainly at some point in the future, and it kinda looks like we probably did invent it so that means we are in the clear to act like we're the ones who made it!

the lich sucks! its terrible! with glass bones and paper skin and a reactor that overheats at room temperature, a gust of wind could leave a dent in this PG's plating, which is made from samples of styrofoam and bubble wrap warped straight from the insides of pre-Fall packages labeled "FRAGILE, HANDLE WITH CARE" (a perfect bumper sticker for your lich, should you find yourself piloting one sometime within the next -50 to 250 years). you can tell no former members of harrison armory's R&D department were involved in the designing of the lich because the only thing those fuckers know how to do is create industrial microwaves, and the lich's reactor is the most slipshod, poorly-coded shit in the known universe. the only code regulating the lich's reactor is "reactor = cool" and not only are neither "reactor" nor "cool" defined anywhere in the system code, but HOR_OS doesn't even use = signs.

you may ask us, "if the lich is so shit, why do people pilot it?" and we are so glad you asked! generally speaking, answers to this question fall into one of two variations: - "it's a funny mech" - "why is everyone saying i pilot a lich??? i pilot a nelson!!! what do you mean that's my lich frame in the mech bay and i've had it for years, i literally don't have a single HORUS license, @horus-unofficial please advise"

the lich's victorian orphan-esque constitution aside, its biggest strength as a frame is likely its ability to send itself to the seaside for a much needed mental health break should it encounter the slightest hint of adversity on the battlefield. its no wonder the lich is so frail, the entirety of our nonexistent R&D budget went into making this thing the most annoying roleplayer on the playground. "you hit me with your sword? nuh-uh, i dodge. oh you run me through on your spear, killing me instantly? well it turns out that that body wasn't actually me, i've been dramatically looking down upon this duel from up there on those cliffs the whole time!" <- words most commonly spoken by future lich pilots at 11 years old

this allows it to be unexpectedly versatile in combat- with a refundable get out of jail free card and a maximum speed comparable to most of SSC's catalogue, it can weave through dangerous zones in combat with unexpected efficiency, allowing it to support allies from virtually any range, and instigate the occasional skirmish if its pilot is so inclined. we dont necessarily advise that you choose violence as a lich pilot, only that its a more viable choice of function than you might initially think

the lich plays with the timestream with the same enthusiasm as a preschooler in a sandbox, both in regards to itself and anything (un)fortunate enough to be within its sensor range. for every timeline where the lich is playing support for its allies and being so kind and niceys, there's another timeline where it gleefully tears into its adversaries until it overextends and dies respawns in another timeline, and it's through this universal law that an unusually principled lich pilot might find themselves taking a hit for its allies before immediately redeeming that get out of jail free card we mentioned earlier. of course, "principled HORUS pilot" is an oxymoron, so if your squad has a lich pilot what actually happens is more along the lines of being teamed with the biggest fucking nuisance on your planet, who pretends to toodle about the battlefield all combat because the truth is they've been stuck in a time loop for 7 years, and are well beyond the point of caring.

bottom line: if you encounter a lich in combat, dont even bother targeting it. it's unkillable except for when it isn't, and its banned from every omninet roleplay forum in the known universe for a reason

#lancerrpg #lancer rpg #lancer ttrpg #lancer lich #ooc: something possessed me today i can't believe i just wrote 800 words bullying the lich

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dreamcubed · 8 months

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me! | george weasley x reader

song; me! [taylor swift, brendon uri(n)e] pairing; george weasley x fem!muggle!reader genre; accidental marriage, s2l, fluff, comedy word count; 7,8k timeline; post-second wizarding war (fred lives au) warnings; swearing, referenced alcohol consumption, references to hook-ups, references to sex, references to the war summary; after waking up in bed with a red-haired stranger and no memories of the night prior, you run off as quickly as you can. it isn't until months later when you're trying to buy a house that you learn that you can't just leave that forgotten night in the past

thought it would be ironic to have the song with the lyrics "i promise that you'll never find another like me" and "i'm the only one of me" with one of the twins lol

masterlist

"you're the kinda guy the ladies want."

————————————————

Typically, you were more responsible than this. You had always stayed away from drunk hook-up culture, hoping (perhaps too idealistically) to find organic love. Yet, on the night of your cousin's bachelorette party, you got so drunk that you found yourself in bed with a stranger the next morning. And you didn't know what to do.

All you could do for a few moments was look around the hotel room that you had evidently decided was necessary for the hook-up - and although you couldn't remember a single thing after your tenth shot at the club, the fact you were both naked gave away the events of the night prior.

He was red-haired, and quite nicely toned, but he also donned a partially missing ear. You couldn't see his face, so at that particular moment you couldn't judge whether or not drunk you had good taste. You pushed that thought aside - that was the least of your concerns. You needed to get out of there and forget that anything had ever happened, which shouldn't be too difficult thanks to the alcohol-induced memory loss.

So, with that, you slipped out of bed and scavenged for all your clothes around the room, and then quickly departed. You made it all the way down to the lobby without any human interaction, but it was there at the desk that you finally had to communicate.

"Heading out for a bit, Mrs Weasley?" the receptionist smiled at you.

You frowned, not understanding why they would address you as such - probably had mistaken you for someone else. But, you were in a hurry, so just grinned and nodded, leaving to never return.

***

Not many people were fortunate enough to buy their first home (alone) at the age of twenty-four without any help from their parents, but you had chosen a rather well-paid career path and had been meticulous with your money savings, so this was a reality for you. After a few months of working with a real estate agent to view houses and find the perfect home for you, you had finally come to a decision.

You had stumbled upon it really, when travelling from London to visit your family, you came across a road that you had sworn hadn't been there before. Curiosity had overcame you, and you had driven down it to find the cutest village named Godric's Hollow, which could also be described as peculiar. A lot of things in the village didn't make sense - like the fact they all seemed bewildered at the sight of your car - but the architecture was gorgeous. When you drove past an adorable rustic cottage with a 'for sale' sign out front, you didn't even have to think twice about viewing it.

It was a strange process, however, as the sign didn't have a number for the real estate agency, but instead read 'owl Cauldron Realtors for more details'. You asked around for information about Cauldron Realtors (a particularly strange name, comparable to the robes many of the older members of the village wore), and they pointed you in the direction of the realtor's.

From then on, the process to view the house and apply for a mortgage had been relatively normal, if not a bit old-fashioned in the lack of technology used. However, you reasoned that it was a small village and that they merely hadn't updated themselves like cities just yet.

***

"Why have you asked me to come here?" you asked as delicately as you could upon entering Cauldron Realtors.

"We have had something come up," Mr Linseed said to you. He was an eccentric old man, constantly adorning a pair of half-moon spectacles perched on the tip of his nose.

"Like what?"

"You told us that you weren't married."

You frowned.

"And I thought it was a bit strange given your muggle situation, but honestly I had simply assumed that you were a squib."

He was using a lot of words that you didn't understand. You had heard the word muggle passed around in the time that you had spent in Godric's Hollow, but had been unable to find out what it meant online or in any dictionary. Everyone used it so commonly you had felt too embarrassed to ask.

"Obviously, this changes the process for you to apply for a mortgage. We need your husband to sign off either that he will partially own the house or have no claim over it."

"I don't understand- I'm not married," you said.

"No?" the man raised a brow at you, "When we searched for legal documentation of your name, we found that it hadn't been Y/N L/N for a few months, but instead Y/N Weasley. I didn't think much of you not having gotten around to changing your bank details yet since it hasn't been long, but going by your maiden name is a little strange. So, I assumed that the marriage was short-lived."

Why did Weasley sound so familiar? You wracked your brain for when you had heard it before.

"Heading out for a bit, Mrs Weasley?"

Your eyes widened.

The guy from the hotel.

"What did you say my husband's name was?" you said slowly.

"I didn't, but George Weasley," Mr Linseed replied, "You knew that, though, correct?"

You nodded, "Yeah... just making sure."

The man frowned at you, "He is quite well-known I suppose - the shop Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes is quite famous. Anyhow, here are the new forms that I need you to fill out and then we will be back on track."

You accepted them in a daze, but snapped your eyes up towards him again, "Where can I find Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"

"Diagon Alley, of course," Mr Linseed was clearly confused that you didn't know where your husband worked.

You had never heard of Diagon Alley, and he sensed that.

"You know? Through The Leaky Cauldron? On Charing Cross Road?"

Finally, a name you recognised.

"Oh, yes. Thank you, Mr Linseed, I'll be back soon."

God, what a process to get yourself a house.

***

You were pretty sure that in all your visits to Charing Cross Road, you had never seen that pub squeezed between those buildings before. But, you weren't about to complain, as you were desperate to find George Weasley and sort everything out. You couldn't remember his face, but you remembered his red hair and partially missing ear - that should be enough to identify him.

You hoped, anyway.

Upon entering the gloomy pub, you were met by quite a shocking sight - but one that wasn't entirely indifferent to Godric's Hollow. Except, you would describe the pub as having a more creepy ambiance, in a way. Beady eyes peered in your direction as you walked up to the bar, and you tried to hold your own as a woman with matted grey hair and disturbingly long fingernails smiled at you with missing teeth. You forced a smile back.

"Excuse me," you said to the bartender, who was similar to the woman in energy, "How do I get to Diagon Alley?"

He pointed to the door out the back.

"Just through that door?"

"You'll need your wand too," the woman who had smiled at you said, "To tap the wall."

"Wand?" you squeaked.

"I'll show you," the woman said eerily.

In any normal circumstance, you would have declined the offer, but you had already had so many new experiences you found yourself following her out the back.

"You're not one of us, are you?" she asked with a giggle of glee, pulling out a wooden stick from her pocket.

You didn't reply, watching as she brought it up and tapped some of the bricks on the wall. To your amazement, they then parted, presenting to you the most bustling and magical street that you had ever seen.

"Diagon Alley," she stated, "Although I prefer Knockturn Alley."

You thanked her, and hurried into the street.

***

The pet shops were strange: mostly having owls, cats and toads. The book shops were strange: having cages of moving books in the display windows. The clothes shops were strange: pretty much exclusively selling robes and pointed hats. All in all, Diagon Alley was the most eccentric place you had ever been.

There was a broomstick shop, a wand shop, and a place to buy cauldrons. You were so out of your depth that you decided you should focus on the task at hand.

It wasn't long before you found a bright and buzzing shop named Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, looking ten times more exciting than all the shops before it. You were almost overwhelmed with all the young people inside once you entered, and it finally became obvious to you that it was a joke shop. The numerous prank items on display were clearly enchanted in a way too, only furthering your amazement at this street.

You scanned around for a redhead, but it was really difficult to spot anything within the chaos. Eventually, you located a flash of red by the till and hurried over. The queue was unfortunately long, but you waited impatiently nonetheless.

When you finally reached the front, the red-haired man behind it looked at you, and you couldn't help but noticed he had two full ears.

"Are you buying anything, miss?"

"I'm looking for George Weasley," you said quickly.

He rose an eyebrow at you, "What for?"

"It's a long story, I really need to talk to him."

"I'll fetch him," he said, and disappeared out back for a few moments before returning with a man almost identical to him save for that all-too-familiar ear. He didn't look at you like he recognised you - maybe he drank so much he had memory loss too? That would make sense, considering he hadn't tried to find you either.

"Can I help you?" George Weasley asked, gesturing for you to move to the side so that his twin could continue at the till.

"This is gonna sound crazy, but," you took a deep breath, "You're my husband."

"You're right, that does sound crazy," he chuckled.

"You woke up in a hotel room a few months ago, right?"

His eyes widened, "I thought I hooked up with someone," he said, "Wasn't sure, though, because I woke up alone."

"Sorry about that. I don't really do hook-ups, I kinda freaked out and bolted."

"I don't really do hook-ups either," he shrugged, "No hard feelings."

"Anyway, as I said, it turns out we got married that night."

"Wow. I honestly can't remember anything."

"Me neither," you shook your head, "And we can't get an annulment - the cut off is three months. And we were way too efficient with sending off the marriage registration - we did it immediately."

He hummed, "That's quite a predicament. Divorce, then?"

You nodded, "Yes, obviously. But that will take ages, and I'm trying to buy a house for myself right now. I need you to sign off that you have no claim over it."

"That's no problem," thank God he was agreeable, "But what's your name?"

"Y/N L/N," you said, "Well, legally Y/N Weasley."

The man smirked at you, which admittedly made your stomach flip. Drunk you definitely had good taste: this man was gorgeous.

"Where's the house you're buying?" he asked.

"Godric's Hollow."

"Ah, my sister lives there," he hummed, "Nice village."

"Can I ask you a question - since you're my husband and all?" you didn't know why you added the last bit.

"Fire away."

"Why does everyone keep going on about muggles and wizards and witches and magic? I'm so lost, I don't know what's happening."

"Wait- you're a muggle?"

"As everyone apparently keeps saying."

He chuckled, "Oh, wow. My wife's a muggle."

"What does it mean?"

"I'll explain," he gestured towards the door to the back room, "But it'll be a lot to take in."

"I don't care, I just want an explanation."

And so, your husband, George Weasley, explained about the wizarding world that he was a part of. And how, by marrying him, you had automatically been granted permission by the Ministry of Magic to be an exception for all anti-muggle charms. Which was why you discovered the road to Godric's Hollow all of a sudden as a non-magic person, which you learned was what muggle meant.

At the very end of his explanation, you sat back in the armchair he had offered to you, "That explains so much. It's insane- but I'm relieved that it's not me going crazy."

"Must be quite a shock," he hummed, "I can't believe we got married. Are there any photos?"

"I mean, I suppose we could find the chapel we got married at and ask."

"Maybe it will trigger some memories of that night. I got drunkenly married - who knows what else I did?" he sighed.

"I don't know if I want to know."

George shrugged, "Better to find out that way than have a random woman come into your place of work and announce she's your wife."

You grimaced, making him laugh.

"I'm just teasing."

"Can I get your number? So I can contact you when I need to?" you asked.

George stared at you, "Number?"

"How do wizards and witches communicate?" you exasperated.

"By owl."

You blanked.

"You might want to get yourself one if you're moving into a wizarding village."

"How do they know where to go?"

"They just do."

You sighed.

***

"So, I phoned the chapel that we got married at and they confirmed that we signed the marriage registration and sent it off immediately," you said to George, taking a seat opposite him in your flat that you currently resided in, "They also posted this to me." You presented a large envelope to your husband and watched as he carefully opened it - even though it was already unsealed thanks to you.

He pulled out a marriage certificate: lettered in italic gold writing and clearly signed on the bottom two corners. As he pulled that out, another piece of card fluttered to the ground. You chewed your lip as you watched him pick it up.

"Wow," was all he said.

It was the same reaction you had when looking upon the photo of you and George at the alter: lips pressed together with smiles creeping on to your faces.

"We look so happy."

You hummed, "The photo hasn't triggered any memories for me."

You watched curiously as he waved it about. "It's weird that muggle photos don't move," he commented, "But- yeah- I can't remember anything more either."

"Maybe it's been too long," you reasoned, "Perhaps if we'd seen the photo the day after, it would've helped."

"Probably," he shrugged, "I can find a charm or potion that will help us remember - if you want to."

It hadn't occurred to you that magic was now a readily available tool.

"I'm not sure, to be honest," you said after a while, "I just really want to seal the deal on my house."

George nodded, "Of course, I'll sign the papers saying I have no right to it."

"Thank you for making this so easy," you said, giving him a warm grin, "When I found out I was married, I was so worried it was to a complete asshole."

"When I found out I was married, I thought it was simply a cute way a gorgeous woman had of flirting with me."

You felt heat rush to your cheeks at his comment. George was a stunning man: his damaged ear only added a rugged element to him, enhancing his beauty in a way that you didn't know possible.

He noticed your flustered reaction and chuckled a bit, "However, there is one problem with me signing those papers that your real estate agent really should've mentioned."

"What?" you filled with worry: that house was your dream house.

"If you're buying a house in the wizarding world, you're going to need a wizarding bank account."

"He kept going on about galleons," you thought for a moment, "But then he converted to pounds so I didn't think much of it."

George hummed, "Yes, but you're still going to need to pay in galleons."

"How do I get a wizarding bank account?"

"Only wizards, witches, squibs and muggles married to any of the former can access one. Oh, and muggles with magic children, even if they aren't married."

You realised what he was getting at. "So I can get one, but..."

"But it has to be a shared one with me."

You pulled your hands down your face, "But I love that house so much."

"I promise you I'm not trying to trap you."

"No, no- I get it. I just- that means I'd have to stay married to you until my mortgage is paid off. And that takes like thirty years."

"Even then, the bills would still need to be paid in galleons."

"Oh, fuck," you muttered, "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

George watched you in silence.

"I'm sorry. I'll divorce you and forget about the house," you said eventually, "It's not fair for me to force you to stay in a marriage for the rest of your life - I mean, I can't force you."

"I didn't say anything about that."

You frowned. In your mind, there was no other option.

"I'm willing to do it."

"George, it's just a house, you really don't need to-"

"I will," he reiterated, "You realise that if you divorce me, you won't be able to access the magic world anymore?"

It had become something you were so excited to explore that you were disheartened by that fact.

"It would be cruel for me to take it away from you, I think."

"But-"

"So, I will set you up on my bank account, sign off on the house, and stay married to you."

Your mouth was opened wide as you stared at him, and in a flash you had leaped across the coffee table in order to pull him into a hug.

"You're so amazing," you mumbled, hugging him tighter as he returned the embrace, "Thank you so much."

"Hey, anything for my wife," he chuckled.

Your heart stopped.

***

"I've had to change my name on my driver's license and passport and bank account and everything else," you sighed, "Such a hassle for a fucking house."

George, who was walking with you throughout the empty house that you had just officially bought, chuckled, as he seemed to enjoy doing, "You must really love this place."

You shrugged, "The house, I would probably get over. An entire magical world that I would lose access to? Not so much."

He hummed, gazing around the place. You had decided that he at least deserved to see the property that he had given up so much for you to own.

"I can't wait to begin decorating," you sighed, "I have big plans for the downstairs rooms and the master bedroom."

"What about the other bedrooms?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest," you pondered, "I'll probably make one of them an office, but the other two, I honestly don't know. It'll be a while before I have any kiddly winks running around."

"How come?"

"I need to find a man to create them with first," you reminded, "And that will be especially complicated since I'm married."

"Not if it's with me."

You were pretty sure his words held a joking undertone, so you laughed.

"Well, I shan't keep you any longer," you said, "I guess we'll keep in touch?"

"Stop by my shop as much as you can," George replied, but you sensed a slight trace of sadness in his voice.

Nonetheless, you smiled, "Of course."

***

Was two days later too soon to take George up on his offer of stopping by? Maybe, but life was too short for you to not do the things that you wanted to do. Plus, you were exhausted from moving furniture and painting (since you were stuck doing it the 'muggle' way), so a getaway from your new home was needed.

After getting someone from the Leaky Cauldron to let you into Diagon Alley, you made your way down to the corner that Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes sat on. You couldn't help the fond smile that tugged on your lips as you pushed open the door and heard the tinkle of the bell above you. The last time you were there, you had been too nervous about meeting your husband to properly appreciate the joyful buzz of the shop; it was truly a marvel to witness. You wish you had grown up with access to such extraordinary things.

"Hello," a redhead popped up beside you.

You jumped a little, not failing to notice the fact this man, although initially appearing to be George, had two full ears.

"Hello... Fred?" you attempted to recall his name.

He nodded, "I must say, I wasn't expecting my sister-in-law to pop by today."

It hadn't occurred to you that George would have mentioned his marriage to his twin brother, but now it seemed obvious that he would have.

"Is my husband here?" you asked, adding a joking undertone. Nonetheless, you couldn't help but notice how warm saying that made you feel.

"Of course, he's out back."

"Should I...?" you trailed off.

"You don't need to ask permission to go out back," he chuckled, in a strikingly similar way to George, "You're married to one of the owners."

"Yeah, but-" but before you could finish your sentence, your brother-in-law had disappeared. With a sigh, you proceeded on your way to the staff-only space, unable to push aside how special you felt being able to freely enter the area.

It was only when you caught sight of George's back did you realise that you had nothing to say and had simply stopped by.

"Y/N!" he smiled, turning around upon sensing your presence, "What brings you here?"

You shrugged, "You said to stop by often."

His grin stretched wider, "That I did, I'm glad to see you."

You felt shy after hearing him say that, and avoided eye contact.

"How's moving in going?"

"Oh- well. Exhausting, though," you sighed.

"I can't imagine having to do everything without magic," he said, "If you want any help to speed up the process, I'm more than willing."

You shook your head, "You've done enough for me."

"I could never do enough for you," he half-mumbled, but you heard it. You couldn't believe it, but you heard it. "I'm free this weekend," he said at a more regular volume.

"I mean- if you're sure-"

"Of course I'm sure."

"I-" you stopped yourself, "Thank you, George."

"Georgie!" a voice called from the front of the shop, not long before a short plump woman appeared in the doorway. "There you are," she said with hands on her hips.

"Oh, hi, mum," he said, "I wasn't expecting you."

"I was just in town looking to pick up your father a new shirt - I don't know how he wears them out so quickly!" she sighed, "I thought I'd take the chance to invite you over for a roast on Sunday."

You smiled at the evidently kind woman.

"And who is this?" she asked.

"This is Y/N."

"How did you two meet?" this time she had a glint in her eye.

"Uh, funny story, actually," George scratched the back of his head, "We're married."

You were surprised at his honesty with his mother.

The woman's eyes widened, "And you didn't tell me!"

"No one knew, mum- not even us," he quickly added.

She seemed to ignore what the last part of his statement implied, and swooped you into her arms, "Welcome to the family, my dear, we have a lot of time to make up for! You'll be coming on Sunday too, yes?"

She didn't give you a chance to reply.

"I'll have to tell your father immediately - do all your siblings know? I expect Fred does. Probably Ron too." She paused, "I haven't even introduced myself! Molly Weasley - call me Molly, of course."

"Mum-"

"Godric- I have so many people to tell! I'll see you both Sunday at four o'clock, please don't be late."

And with a hug to both of you, Molly Weasley departed just as rapidly as she had arrived.

"I'm sorry about that- my mum can be very full on," George apologised.

"I think she's sweet."

A soft smile graced his face, "Yes, she's a very lovely woman."

You hummed.

"I'll get you out of the dinner."

You frowned, "Why?"

"Well, my family will think you're- well-"

With a shrug, you replied, "I don't mind."

"I have a big family."

"I know."

"Most of them are quite loud people."

"That's okay."

"They'll ask a lot of questions."

"George, I want to meet your family," you realised as soon as you said them what your words could potentially mean.

"It's just- I- I don't want them to scare you away."

"Scare me away?"

He nodded.

You chuckled, "I'd like to see them try."

***

Sunday rolled around quickly, and as promised, George showed up at your house to pick you up at five to four. You figured that his parents must live very nearby if he was picking you up so late, but you hadn't given it much thought. All you had done was focused on yourself, dressing up what you deemed the adequate amount for a family event.

A knock sounded on the door, and you quickly rushed to open it, smiling when you were faced with the red headed man that you could call your husband. He was wearing a knitted jumper and baggy jeans, which was a relief to you since you also sported a knitted jumper, just with a skirt instead.

"Hello," you said, almost shyly.

"Hey," he replied, "You ready to go?"

"Yep, let me just-" you hurried back inside to grab the bouquet of flowers that you had bought for his mother, you weren't familiar with the guidelines for meeting family as you had never been in a relationship long enough to reach that stage, but flowers had felt like the right thing.

"Oh, for me?" he said teasingly.

You shook your head, dramatically holding them away from him, "You would be so lucky."

He chuckled, "Right, let's get going," he held out his arm for you to take, "You're gonna want to hold tight."

You frowned, but took his advice nonetheless, taking a firm grip of his bicep which had a hardness that made your heart flip. But before you could dwell on that thought, you felt like you had been sucked into a vacuum and spat out again in a split second. Your stomach cramped up and you felt nauseous as you fell on to grass in a completely new location.

"Sorry, that often happens the first time," George quickly helped you up along with the flowers, which thankfully were unharmed.

"Did we just- teleport?" you asked, holding your stomach. Thankfully, the nausea was already dissipating.

"We call it apparating but yes, we did."

"Why couldn't I be born a witch?" you whined, following George as he began walking up the path ahead of you.

You could only be amazed when the strangest house that you had ever seen came into view: looking like it should tumble over instantly with the mismatched extensions stacked on top of each other. Not too long ago, you would have been worried about its sketchy looking state, but now you immediately concluded that it was kept steady by magic. Even at the distance you still were from the house, you could hear a lot of noise coming from it.

"I bet you anything Fleur and Hermione insisted on being early," George grumbled, "Making my brothers look like angelic sons."

You smiled to yourself: his relationship with his siblings was making you want to reach out to your sister.

George didn't bother knocking when you reached the door, simply throwing it open and grinning at everyone who was stood around the kitchen. You couldn't help but feel some level of nerves as you were faced with so many strangers.

"George! Y/N!" Molly beamed, pulling you both into a hug, "I'm so glad that you could make it."

You presented the flowers to her, "I got you these."

"Oh, they're gorgeous!"

You watched as she pulled out her wand and arranged them in a vase without even using her hands. You didn't think observing magic would ever get old.

"Thank you, dear," she said, before turning to the others in the room. There was Ron, who you vaguely recognised from the shop, with a curly brown-haired woman on his side. Then there was the most ethereal woman that you had ever seen next to one of the more rugged looking men that you had seen in your time. There was also an older, balding, red headed man, who you suspected to be George's father.

"Y/N, you might remember Ron here," George said, and you nodded, "And this is his fiancée, Hermione. This is my dad, and over there is my oldest brother, Bill, and his wife, Fleur."

"Our little shit of a son is running around here somewhere," Bill added.

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N," George's father shook your hand, "You can call me Arthur."

"I didn't realise you were bringing a guest, George," Hermione said.

"Oh, she's no guest," Molly smiled, "She's family."

The only person who didn't exchange confused glances was Ron.

"I'm his, uh, wife," you said, feeling awkward. You didn't really want to say it, because it felt like you were lying to them even though you weren't.

What followed was an array of congratulations, and Hermione accusing Ron of not telling her when he clearly already knew. And then, upon being asked, you both finally revealed that it was an accidental marriage upon which you were both very drunk. Molly was new to this news as well, but nonetheless, before you could give any more detail on where your 'relationship' with George currently stood, she spoke.

"As irresponsible as that was, I think there's something beautiful in the fact that you're now happily married."

While you weren't unhappily married, you didn't know how to say that you didn't know you were married until a couple months later, and that you weren't in a relationship with George. He said nothing to clarify, either.

That was when a small boy tumbled into the room.

"Ah, zis is Victoire," Fleur said, "Our son."

He was just as red headed as his father.

God, your kids with George would probably end up redheaded.

You internally froze at that thought - why had it seemed so natural to imagine yourself having kids with George?

You were yet again distracted from your mind, as seemed common in the Weasley household, when more people arrived. It was Fred and his fiancée, Angelina, as you soon learned. Shortly followed by Harry Potter, allegedly quite a celebrity, who was dating George's only sister, Ginny.

The only person to arrive alone was Percy, who had a much less chaotic energy than the rest of his siblings.

"You'll meet Charlie at some point," Molly said to you, "But he lives in Romania for his work with dragons."

It was insane to you that George had five brothers and one sister; having six siblings seemed like such a hectic upbringing. That thought almost led you to brush over Molly's mention of dragons - dragons?

Once again, you were introduced as George's wife, solidifying you in their eyes as a sister-in-law. These were your in-laws, you realised.

"Dinner's almost ready," Molly announced over the noise of all the people.

Many people rushed forward to help the woman with the finishing touches and laying the table, and you felt like an ass for not assisting as well, but you would have been of no help. They were all using magic, which was ten times faster than you could complete any task.

"What year did you graduate school? I can't remember you," Ginny said, evidently assuming that her lack of recognition was because you had been in a different year at Hogwarts from her. George had told you how most witches and wizards in a similar age group knew each other because of there only being one magic school in the country.

"I didn't go to Hogwarts," you said.

"Oh, did you study abroad?" she asked, walking over to the table with you.

"No, uh, I'm a- I'm a muggle."

Her eyes widened in realisation, "Oh! I see," she hummed, "That makes sense now that I think about it."

"You're a muggle?" Hermione, who had overheard, said.

You nodded.

"I'm muggle-born," she said, "I was raised muggle."

"I was raised muggle too," Harry added on, "But I'm not muggle-born."

After that point, Arthur Weasley kept posing an array of questions to you, explaining that he was fascinated by muggles, and it was even what had led him to having the job that he did. Wanting to be liked, you answered all his questions as best as you could, and found his childlike curiosity quite endearing.

"Leave the poor girl alone, Arthur," Molly scolded her husband.

"I don't mind," you replied, and, really, you didn't.

The food was absolutely delicious, to the point you almost moaned when you first put it in your mouth. You didn't think you had ever eaten such delectable food before, and you made sure that Molly knew.

Once the first course was finished and dessert was being brought out, Bill and Fleur stood up.

"We have an announcement to make," the latter smiled, looking to her husband.

"Fleur's pregnant," Bill grinned, placing his hand on her abdomen.

"Oh, that's wonderful news!" Molly exclaimed, "How far along?"

"Twelve weeks, two days ago," Fleur said, "In ze clear zone, as zey say."

"We don't know the gender yet," Bill added.

"For your sake I hope it's a girl," Molly sighed, "It took me six tries."

"We will be happy eizer way," Fleur said simply.

You couldn't help but get the sense there was some level of tension between her and Molly, so you leaned over to George as everyone began chatting again, congratulating the expecting couple.

"Do your mum and Fleur get along?" you whispered.

"Well, yes, but they haven't always," he whispered back, "My mum thought she was vain at first, even thinking that she would call off the wedding when Bill got that scar." He was referring to the large mark on his eldest brother's face.

You hummed.

"They've mostly resolved their problems now, but I think there will always be a bit of tension."

After dinner, you wandered around the home, observing all the moving pictures of the family.

"Aw, you were so cute back then," you said to George, looking at a photo of him as a toddler on a mini broomstick.

"Are you saying I'm not anymore?"

You shrugged.

"And how do you know that's me and not Fred?"

"You may be a twin, but there's only one of you, George," you said in passing, not realising how much those words meant to your husband. As much as he loved being an identical twin, there were times where he didn't want to be seen as part of a package deal. Even his mother struggled to tell him and Fred apart before his ear injury, but you- you could recognise him instantly.

Your gaze moved up the wall.

"That's an interesting clock."

It didn't tell the time, but instead had a hand for all of Molly and Arthur's brood, all currently pointing in the direction of 'home' apart from who must be Charlie, which pointed at work.

"Even on Sundays, he works," George sighed, "You know, there was a time where me and Fred had the same hand."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but after he moved in with Angelina, mum had it altered."

Your eyes flicked over the 'mortal peril' section of the clock, and you didn't realise you had read it aloud til he responded.

"Thankfully that hasn't served a purpose since the war."

It was unbelievable to you that such a life-changing war had happened while you remained completely oblivious.

"I suppose we'll have to expand the guest list for our wedding," Angelina approached you, making you turn away from the clock.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," you said.

"No, no. An extra person is hardly anything," she smiled, "You're family, of course you're coming."

Family.

"Well, thank you."

"Of course."

***

As you and George said your goodbyes and departed, you couldn't help but let out an elated sigh, "Your family is so warm."

He smiled, "I'm glad you like them."

"They're like, everything I want my in-laws to be."

"Really?"

"Yeah! Loud, happy, there for each other - with the slightest hint of drama, of course. They're perfect."

"We've been through a lot together."

"Yeah, I expect so."

You both fell into a comfortable silence, one that had you feeling content with your life in the most heart-warming way.

"You ready to apparate again?" George broke the silence when you reached the end of the path.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you grasped his arm tightly, prepping yourself for what was to come.

You didn't fall to the ground this time when you appeared outside your house, but you did still feel nauseous for a few moments.

"I'm really glad you came," George said.

"I'm glad too," you smiled.

And then there was silence - tension-filled silence. The kind of silence that led up to what you had secretly hoped would happen this entire time.

His lips on yours.

You moved your hands up to his hair as the kiss got more heated, flashes of memories dancing through your brain.

You met at the bar your cousin's bachelorette party was at, and began chatting. He was charming, and funny, and you were both really drunk. You went on a walk together - you walked past a chapel.

You had suggested getting married - jokingly, but he had then said.

"Why don't we?"

And so you did, giggling and laughing the entire time, even when you kissed. The kiss held the same magical feeling as it did now, that's what had triggered the memory.

He had kissed all along your jaw and neck as you both filled out the forms, and it wasn't long before you both booked a hotel and by all technical terms, consummated.

"I remember," you parted from him breathlessly, only to kiss him again.

"Me too," he mumbled, pushing you back against your front door.

"Do you want to come in?" you asked.

***

This time, you were the one to wake up alone in bed, but that wasn't the only difference. You remembered every single moment and sensation from the night before - and from your wedding night, for that matter. A smile almost crept on to your face, but it dropped when the panic set in that George had upped and left like you had before. You scrambled out of bed, pulling a shirt and some pants on, and then rushed down the stairs to see if he was anywhere in your house.

And he was.

There your husband was, in the kitchen, cooking a full English breakfast - using magic, of course. You had electric appliances installed when you moved in, since most magic homes didn't generally possess them, but with George there, you supposed they weren't really necessary.

"Hey, love."

Love. That's what he had called you all of last night and your wedding night.

It made heat travel to your ears.

"Hi," you replied shyly.

"Take a seat, I'm almost finished."

You obeyed, deciding to let the wizard take care of you, even though he really had done too much for you ever since you met him - the second time, that was.

Your dining table was a temporary one, as your entire home was still a work in progress: it wasn't easy decorating an entire house by yourself, especially without the assistance of magic. Nevertheless, it did the job. George came over with the food and sat opposite you, gesturing for you to dig in.

"Thank you," you smiled, picking up the cutlery.

"I told you, anything for you."

"You're too perfect," you mumbled, making George chuckle.

"My ear may be injured, but my hearing's fine."

You looked up at him to make eye contact, feeling like he could read you with his gaze, "Your ear makes you even more perfect."

"I'm glad you think so, would be a bit upsetting for me if you didn't."

"I aim to please," you grinned.

***

"You didn't tell me the wedding would be quite so soon," you huffed, straightening out the pastel pink dress you adorned in the mirror.

George shrugged, tightening his tie, "Didn't think about it."

You were, of course, in reference to Angelina and Fred's wedding, merely two weeks after the dinner in which you met the former. Out of all the moving boxes you still had left to unpack, you had been forced to dig for a suitable outfit that fitted the colour scheme.

Aside from work, you and George had been practically glued at the hip in the days since he first stayed at yours - and he had been consistently staying at yours ever since. He had probably spent about three nights total at his own flat in that time span. So much to the point that when he came over the day prior, he had brought his suit for the wedding with him, fully anticipating that he would be spending the night.

You hadn't put a label on what you currently were, other than legally married, as it was.

"We have to be early," he said, "Since I'm the best man."

"I'm aware," you replied, sitting on the edge of your bed to pull your shoes on, "I'm pretty much ready."

"Alright, let's go."

***

The ceremony was a beautiful occasion: held at the Weasley house, The Burrow. The entire garden was decorated beautifully in shades of pink, purple and white, with bouquets of flowers adorning every table and chair. Obviously, a drastic difference from your own wedding.

You were sat in the crowd while George was up near the altar with the maid of honour, but he was not your focus. Angelina was a transcendent bride.

When it came to the meal, you were - to your shock - sat on the primary table where the newly weds were. You supposed that it made sense, since George was obviously going to be sat by his twin brother, and you were his wife. Generally, married couples weren't separated at events. You were certainly relieved, since you hardly knew anybody else.

The only other people on the main table were Molly, Arthur, Angelina's parents, and Angelina's maid of honour and her partner. There was a second table for the rest of the Weasley siblings and their partners, and so on and so forth for more distant relatives and friends.

Once the toasts were made, the meal commenced, and you hadn't realised how hungry you were 'til that moment.

"Slow down, love," your husband commented, "I'd prefer if you didn't choke."

You shrugged, your mouth full. Once you had eventually swallowed, you said, "Much grander event than our wedding."

"We could always renew our vows," he said, and even though he had made many comments about wanting to do anything for you, and had done many intimate things to you in the bedroom (and elsewhere in your house, for that matter), it felt like the first real confirmation that you were in a relationship. Even more, that you weren't just in a marriage out of convenience, but instead because you simply wanted to be.

You parted your mouth to reply, when some children from Angelina's side began causing chaos by running around. "Lord, our kids better behave," you muttered.

George turned to look at you, and it was then that you became aware of what you had said.

"Our kids?" he was grinning.

"Shut up," you mumbled.

"Never - just let me know when you want to start, love," he winked at you.

"A bit too soon, I think."

He shrugged, "We got married within a few hours of knowing each other."

"We were drunk."

"We can get drunk again."

You sighed, "We don't even live together."

"I can move in."

You didn't have anymore rebuttals.

"Are you out of arguments now?" he asked.

You reluctantly nodded.

"Perfect."

***

Instead of apparating directly to your house, you and George decided to take a late night walk around Godric's Hollow. It was such a pretty village, and you had yet to appreciate its beauty in the dark, with all the magical lamps glowing around you. But, you knew that you and George needed to have a conversation, especially after the kids talk from earlier.

"Are we together?" you asked him, even though your interlocked hands should have answered the question.

"We're married, love."

"Yes, but are we together?"

"I'd like to think we are - do you?"

You remained silent for a few moments, before nodding and looking at him in the darkness of the night.

"Then there you have it."

"I just don't get why."

"Why what?"

"Why you've done so much for me when you hardly knew me."

George chuckled, "I admit, I don't know exactly when I made the decision to do anything for you, but when you strutted into my shop, determined as ever, and announced that you were my wife, I just-" he paused, squeezing your hand, "You looked so cute and I knew- in that moment- that I would never meet someone else like you."

You felt like you were melting on the spot.

"It may have seemed selfless that I helped you get the house - but, to be honest, it was the perfect excuse for me to trap you to me- make it easier for me to pursue you, that is."

"I love you, George," you sighed.

"I'm glad, because I've loved you for quite some time now."

"Love at first sight?"

"You would be so lucky."

You let out a childish giggle at that.

"But, yes, I think it was."

——————————————————

masterlist

written; 18/08/2023 —> 03/09/2023 published;04/09/2023 edited; —/—/——

661 notes · View notes

nouvxllev · 21 days

Note

"When I saw you

I fell in love, and

you smiled

because you knew

-William Shakespeare"

LOVE.LOVE.LOVE.

I wanted to make a request! I had a similar interaction like this, and when I had read this, I fell inloveeeeee with this qoute sm. Can you do a Wednesday x Reader? In which it's Wednesday who actually falls inlove 😭

amore, amore, amore.

Pairing: Author!Wednesday Addams x Gn!Reader

Summary: request!! ^^

Words: 6.0k (oh what the fuck)

Warnings: told in WEDNESDAYS POV AND ALTERNATE TIMELINES!, the gomezification of wednesday addams prevails, yes they meet at a museum, also kinda 7 husbands of evelyn hugo coded, slight plottwist at the end!

a/n: aaaa ofc ofc!! also i absolutely love the idea where wednesday fell first and harder

masterlist

I believe they cursed me the moment their lips became something worth fighting for.

"If they intend to halt my publishing, then so be it. I have no interest in entertaining that brain-dead company over countless of reasons as to why I shouldn't spare a few weeks for myself who believe I will fall under their will."

"Wednesday, they're the ones who publish your books, you just can't ignore their calls."

"Barclay, has your brain deteriorated to a degree in such a way that you are forgetting it's my presence that upholds that fucking company? Without me, they are nothing. Have you forgotten with how much power I withhold over them, or have your scales reached that hollow of a brain?"

"You can't ignore the leverage they have over you, sure you have the amount of money, if not more, to sue them, but they could literally tip you off and brand you as some selfish author."

"Please do comprehensively explain to me as to why I would be a selfish author?"

"Wednesday Friday fucking Addams, it's because you're half-way across the fucking world at some fucking museum in Italy while you have a manuscript due a fucking week ago!"

"I fail to see my fault."

"Addams, if you don't get your shit together, I swear—"

I had solved countless of murders in my time of Nevermore. I had one thing to do when I finally left, and I was going to succeed.

If you had told me after I willingly left that horrid place you call an educating institution that I would experience the same fate as an author, I would've traced the outer skin of your face with a pocket knife and display it on your family's doorstep.

Barclay, amongst others, remained someone I held close. She could be infuriating, but no one would ever be much deserving of a terrible, terrible position than be under my control as my manager when I pursued writing.

But no one tells you how people could easily forget you in a matter of seconds if you don't make a name for yourself when you've put yourself out there, even if it's something far, far from your own.

I was only fortunate enough people enjoyed what I publish.

I couldn't care less if they didn't, that's why I found it hard to give two shits about what that damned company thought of my revised schedule. But I needed to make a living. To make something out of myself.

If I had continued my actions— in which I have full control over with—I could lose everything.

I could've build it up from scratch if it happened, but Lucifer knows how long would a simple idea for a plot that could get into the lack of attention span of the population could take.

I could lose the name I print on paper.

I could lose my name.

And then I realized I haven't.

There was something that I was destined to fall under. It was there with my eyes taped to a painting, not knowing I became one for another.

I hung up. The mere thought of having a multistep plan to eventually murder my manager was between God and me. That woman had me teetering on the edge of becoming a one-hit serial killer overnight.

My head tilted over a large painting towering amidst the others down the line. My hands remained tucked deep within the pockets of a trench coat far too oversized for me.

I couldn't take much time of squinting, staring as if it had garnered my interest not after a dreaded phone call that I convinced myself truly took my energy and managed to inject anesthesia inside my veins.

A light sway became evident in my steps, as if I was sulking in my own woe of what I should and could've done to prevent myself fucking it up on a company that I could soon own if not me being under the age of what is required to own a firm without having to ring up my own godforsaken of a family.

I could almost take another step if I wasn't met with another person.

Countless of papers flew across the hard-tiled floor. It was over before I knew what had happened. I found myself standing there, eyes glued to the person I collided with, my eyebrows crossed and my mouth hung open like a fool.

"I'm—I'm so sorry, fuck." They grit under their breath, like they were berating themselves while they picked up the rest of what had fell.

I stood there, not knowing what to do or what not to do but stare at them and wait for them to pull themselves up.

And so that's what I did.

I wish I hadn't.

Because now it was the time I was unable to speak. Unable to use the words I've been writing my novels with, the words that I should've spoken in the seconds they had landed in front of me. For the first time, my words had failed me.

A question rang in my head, Why do I now feel as if I do not belong inside of my own body? Why does my life feel complete now that they were here?

When Y/n fixed herself, she looked at me and smiled. I knew I looked like an idiot staring at them, yet I never went out of my way to barely fix myself.

Why were they smiling?

"Why are you smiling?" I asked under my breath, like I was taken breathless. I hadn't mean to say it out loud, but my cold and otherwise damned heart seemed to be alive, like I was suffocating in my own rate. A fool in front of them I must've been.

They looked at their paper, then they looked at me.

They smiled yet again. Another question flicked across my head, what had happened to me to act as if I would go through hell and back for this person?

They smiled at me as if my presence gave them a reason to. And they loved me in every one of it.

"Sorry—" they apologized, noticing how their thumb kept grazing the surface of their sketch, almost as if they were nervous. "You look prettier than... whatever I drew."

They stole one more look of me.

"Terrifyingly bewitching."

It's horrifying knowing I couldn't explain what I felt that day. What I know is—I felt everything.

I've endured endless remarks on my appearance ranging from a number of ratings from those nonsensical people on the internet to every synonym people have thrown my way only to fail to evoke even a flicker of emotion.

Though it seems egotistical, I knew they held one intention: they wanted to impress me. They wanted me to know they were different amongst others who have approached me. They wanted to entice me, as if I could be owned.

Were it not for the arsenal and threats I carried, there would be much more.

Y/n was different. They never had any intentions of being with me, no desire to impress or claim me as theirs. They simply wanted me to know I was. That it was true. I just had never heard it from someone who could mutter two words that felt perfect.

And it's much more terrifying knowing I unexpectedly fell first, even if I deny myself.

I could tell you about the way y/n smiled, how it seemed to threaten the sun, warning it not to shine lest it risk embarrassment in contrast of hers. I could tell you the way their eyes followed their smile, how their life was encapsulated in their drawings, mirroring what they felt.

Yet, when it comes to explaining how I fell for them, words escape me. Even I, a tortured author, struggle to describe.

How must I convey the sensation of my heart pounding in my ears as if it was trying to break me? The ache in my stomach, churning every chance it got, every fiber of my being dreadfully surrendering to them.

But one is for certain: meeting them was like coming home.

My home.

But I couldn't bring myself to realize that—It was antagonizing for me. Humiliating and mortifying knowing one person could make me become a total fool, become someone I've never thought I'd be.

I've spent my whole life after hiding what I felt for them, lest I risk experiencing what I truly loathe: love.

I despised them ever since I met them, loathed them, hated them. But for what for? I ask myself countless of times, I have never gotten an answer.

When they left, I left. Thinking it would be fate that had accidentally brought two people together who held no meaning for eachothers life, that it was a mistake, and I could've been wrong with how I'm feeling.

And when I came back, they were there.

And when I approached them, it felt right.

It was a week after the incident, but no matter how I tried, I still remember how their smile felt around me. Suffering, irritating, lovely. Like I wanted to relieve it, no matter how much time had passed.

Never once did I get their name in the span of meeting them, it was useless to know anyway.

Yet, I find myself returning to the museum every chance I get for God knows what, acting as if I had unfinished business staring at paintings while the staff rambled beside me. They were better off tattooing their explanation in my skull.

I had other places to attend to, other tasks I should've been doing rather than constantly visiting museum in the afternoon as if I have duties and low-paid labor for employment.

I should've been at my apartment days ago, exhausting myself on a half-assed manuscript I would have recurring thoughts of annihilating along with severing Bianca's hands through the phone.

What terrified me is why I was back.

Standing in front of them. My hands tucked deep inside the pockets of another trench coat, looking down on them sitting on one of the blocks of granite surrounding a oddly placed tree in the middle of the hall, drawing whatever there is to draw.

"Hello." I greeted them. They almost looked startled, surprised that I was even talking to them, like I was some vengeful ghost who returned to seek revenge. Though they weren't far off.

They looked up, immediately flipping over their clipboard as they locked eyes with me.

"Oh—" They cleared their throat, "Hi. Hey, hello." They smiled, albeit awkward. But that feeling of dread, or whatever, came back. Stronger than ever, I feared. I almost had half the mind of punching them in the gut and questioning them why they had this effect on me.

"Didn't know you come here often." A chuckle followed their question, or maybe it was a statement, placing their elbows on their lap while they gazed right at me.

I scoffed, murmuring against gritted teeth why did I even approach them in the first place. "And I didn't know you draw me that often."

I look down on the piece of paper, their deliberate and aggressive brush strokes having an effect on the paper, leaving marks upon marks. It was clear that I've been their subject for days on end. Even if I were to absent, I'd still be able to be the pinnacle of their sketches.

It was funny back then, humorous in my mind on how quick they snatched the piece of paper and tried to explain with little to no comprehension that went across their mind.

"Oh, God, no, no! I just—Okay, well, maybe I've been drawing you ever since I saw you, it's creepy now that I mention it... but it's just—it's dumb of me to not draw you, you know?" They were flustered, their mouth opening and closing only for me to receive words that were out of the dictionary.

They sighed, my lips twitched.

"I'd like to ask," My voice trailed off, grimacing even at the thought of having to initiate a conversation with more or less than five words, "What's... your name?"

"Y/N," They nodded, "L/N. Y/N/L/N." They reached out for a handshake only to immediately retract after a brief awkward seconds of staring. Their name sounded familiar.

"Why are you here?"

"Do I need to reason to?"

"I suppose so, no. But I am curious." Even I don't know why I'm still back here.

Y/n sighed, like I was the one getting on their nerves while it was me who battling against whatever fucked-up demon spawned in my stomach that caused me to feel, things.

"Nothing."

I frowned. "You came here because of.... Nothing?"

"Mhm."

"You are drawing strangers you know nothing about because of nothing?"

"Thought I made myself clear on that first word."

"You've made yourself look foolish than any average person."

"Well, you never told me your name. I think that's foolish enough over my case."

It was my turn to sigh.

"Addams." I reluctantly said to them, "Wednesday, Addams."

Then Y/n looked up at me as if I was some sort of otherworldly deity going back down to earth to finish whatever I started. "Wednesday Addams. I think I've heard that name before."

"No. No, you haven't."

If it wasn't horribly obvious, the sole purpose of my visit to Italy was to neglect everything I left behind in New York—especially deadlines— and hoped my eyes would finally work some sense that would let me start anew.

It was shameful of me, passion that dwindled into something less. If I had the chance, I would've tortured myself for even considering abandoning all of my life's work.

Though, I had my reasons. Even if I had threatened my target population and my audience, it still wouldn't be enough.

In short, I had lost motivation to pursue another book.

I felt as if there was something missing, that I couldn't even dare to even blow the collecting dust in the rims of my typewriter.

I begged for my brain to work, to even produce the slightest idea or word that could have some meaning to it. I was ready to write anything that came to mind, even if it was mediocre.

But, instead, my heart responded.

When I met Y/n, I started writing, and we started talking.

Words flowed through, and my time was wasted on Y/n.

My time was wasted, and they were wasted with their significant other.

I always thought I would suffer the thought of having to live an eternal life with none other than myself, that it was inevitable I was going to perish alone in my own woe.

It remained the same. Now, it's just having to live with the fact that my only greatest love had another.

I felt as if I ate a forbidden fruit once I heard they had someone that loved them as much as I denied myself of the same kind, like I plagued myself with hundreds of years of worry and attachment to someone who had eyes on another, a special muse they had.

Only that I would crumble immediately, tempted to take the fruit in my hands, forever stain my lips of something immoral so that I could forever crawl and weep over them.

In my time in Italy, I thought i'd be avoiding acquaintances that would be much more of a burden to me rather than someone useful. Yet there I was, watching Y/n saunter into my life like the revelation they were.

It's safe to say that Y/n turned out to be anything but a burden. They became someone I looked forward to seeing every day, though I hadn't realized they were motivation until then.

"Wends!"

Their awfully cheerful voice pierced through the air of the restaurant, almost granting the attention from other people as if they shared the same horrendous and dreadful nickname as me.

As much as I fantasized about walking out of the restaurant with y/n's half-broken jaw, I couldn't deny whatever was swirling in my head.

Ever since they knew of that wretched nickname unfortunately given to me by none other by that infectious and the ever infuriating ball of sunshine, Enid Sinclair, they've been calling me it as if I don't have a birth name.

It was a month ever since I've known Y/n, and it was a month of them being a constant presence in my life. They shared breakfast with me, lunches, and sometimes dinners that I somehow always and reluctantly accepted.

They became my routine, and it was a fact I'd sooner die with than confess to anyone.

Y/n slowly approached my table that was filled to the brim with countless of books and my oddly placed typewriter, putting their own stuff down on the seat beside them. "You're here early. You ordered something yet?"

It was 12PM. We agreed on 1, and I came at 10.

I scoffed, keeping my eyes on the typewriter. "You, of all people, should know by now that I would much rather sooner paint myself neon than touch anything on this menu."

I hear y/n setting their elbows on the table, resting their face between their hands. "Aw, c'mon Wends, it wouldn't kill you.

"Cyanide won't, but this will." I stopped writing to take one look at them, obviously and oddly, my gaze never and will never work on them. "Take my advice if you're eager to leave this restaurant with a mouth able to eat and speak."

"Ever the happiest person, Wends." They chuckled, sliding a somehow too bright and colorful menu towards them, "I'll order for you."

I stopped writing all together, "Y/n."

"Wednesday." They raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. It was over before I was even playing the game. Resistance over their lips felt futile anyway.

"Fine." I sighed, shutting my eyes closed just so that for once I can't have my stomach doing fucking acrobatics at the sight of them. "I will... allow it."

The ever-growing smile that crept up to their face was priceless, I couldn't bring myself to pry my eyes away. Murmuring something along the lines that I was too easy to lure in.

Once a waiter passed our table, Y/n ordered something along the lines of whatever the fuck 'Due Cream Soda Alla Vaniglia e Lampone con Glitter Commestibili' was. I was certain I was going to leave the restaurant with a non-working heart and a stomach turning inside and out.

It took no longer than a minute for Y/n to get a hold one of the numerous books piled infront of me. "Are you studying for something?" They asked, opening it only to close it once they noticed how outdated some of the languages are.

I let a small chuckle pass my lips. "What drives you to such a hypothesis."

They gestured to the books and my typewriter, "By how you're literally surrounded by books and you're on a fucking typewriter instead of a laptop." They pointed out, murmuring another, "Also, who the hell says hypothesis."

"People with functioning frontal lobes." I quipped, letting my fingers write on instinct across the typewriter keys as I listened to Y/n's ramblings. "I'm... writing."

"You're an author?"

"No."

"Then why—"

"Are you a painter? An artist?"

"Well... I—no?"

"Then we both don't know what we're doing."

Y/n fell silent moments after, I couldn't help but miss the sound of their voice. Admitting the mere thought aloud seemed absurd, let alone thinking it in the first place. I would've bashed my head on top of my typewriter if not for my resistance.

"How long will you be staying in Italy?" they eventually asked.

"Two more weeks," I replied. "My flight is already scheduled, I'll be leaving then on."

"Oh."

I wasn't expecting an answer anything other than a hint of happiness that I was eventually leaving their life.

"You are?" They repeated, as if they couldn't believe such a statement even escaped my lips, clear disappointment flickering across their face. "That's not... long."

"I am certainly not saying here indefinitely now that I have something to continue when I've arrived at my destination." I cleared out, doing my very best to escape the impending guilt washing over me.

"I'll miss you, Wednesday."

Their words were sincere. Lovely. It had stopped me from writing all together.

Guilt wasn't a feeling I was familiar with at the time. I rarely come across such a feeble emotion. Now it felt like I've committed something immoral. There were times that I lie for my own convenience, and nothing more than my own reason.

Now it felt like I should've lied for them.

I will forever miss you.

I wrote. I never showed them.

One week had passed and I rarely ever got to see Y/n after. Our encounters became increasingly scarce, and their voice plagued me from days on end.

I clung to the faithless hope I had that they would text me, to reach out, to even show me they're alive and well.

I returned to the museum for every day they were absent in my life, searching for any sign of their presence, but each day ended in disappointment.

Of course, fate is indifferent to my yearning, refusing to grant someone I so desperately sought.

Regret gnawed at me as the days turned into a week, and the week turned into the day before my flight.

"Addams. I've heard from others that you've been writing."

"Who others?"

"I'll spare a name to spare New York a corpse found in their sewage pipes by the time you've, hopefully I assume, returned and not jump off the plane."

"Even if I went off the grid, your nagging would've been in spirit."

"Don't flatter me."

"Don't kill yourself without showing me a video tape in full resolution for me to get through rough weeks. Or maybe take a shotgun and shoot yourself in your garage and let me have the keys to your house."

"Addams."

I sigh. "Yes, the rumors—though I would want that vampires head on a stake—are true. I've been writing."

"What happened to you there? You met someone?"

"How'd you know—No. No, I—I haven't. What makes you come to such a foolish conclusion?"

"Oh my God, someone actually managed Wednesday—I'd rather kill myself before loving anyone—Addams to fall terribly in love with them. Who's the unfortunate soul?"

"I would not be naming them because they do not exist."

"You just stuttered, Wednesday. The only thing making you stumble your words is when you're overdosing on whatever poison you're having for breakfast."

"They're no one."

"How are you such a bad liar when you have countless of bodies hidden across the globe?"

I sigh again, this time, it was out of annoyance. "I'll be hanging up. Goodbye, Barclay. If ever you are considering to kill yourself, call me. I'll be at my most happiest to watch."

"Wait, no, Wednesday! I need progress on your—"

I hung up. It was pointless to answer her calls when I was a mere few step away from boarding a plane. She always had a way of getting under my skin, even from across the damn globe.

But there was one name that would always surface in my thoughts: Y/n.

The mere thought of their name will forever remind me of how my heart wasn't programmed to love.

I reached for my phone, fingers tracing over the cold screen. My mind was tired, blank. The only thing I could ever do is stare at their contact and wish I could've done something better.

I typed out a hesitant message, my thumb hovering over the send button as if it was something that could end my world. Only two thoughts ran to my mind: Would they reply, or would my message be nothing to them?

I almost hit send before I heard footsteps approaching me.

"Y/n?"

I whispered their name, the love I carried for them being surrendered like I'd crawl for them once I reached purgatory.

"What are you doing here?" My eyebrows furrowed. How could they leave me, only to return as I was about to depart? "Why are you here, you disappeared, avoided me, why—"

"He proposed to me."

Oh.

I always thought a near-death experience with a loved one would be the deepest I could feel.

I realized I was wrong.

Now my eyes ached to the sting. Like I was weeping for someone that perished in my heart, I grieve for a living soul that was me. It was pathetic.

I expected them to be overjoyed, over the moon as they would express themselves from time to time.

But when I met their eyes, all I saw were tears streaming down their face.

Oh, how I wished to wipe their worries away.

"Then why are you crying?"

"I don't know if I love him."

"Nonsense... You told me you loved him—"

"Well, maybe I haven't been saying anything true to you!"

"Look, I don't know what I'm doing—I don't know what the hell are we doing. I'm living in some apartment with some guy I don't even know I even love, I'm currently standing here like an idiot to a girl who's just about to leave my life, and you're—"

"You're everything."

It was that moment I realized I was lost in a haze of admiration and love for Y/n.

That I was far too deep in their life that they became mine. I never knew I needed them as much when I told them to leave with me and break up with their significant other.

I never knew I needed their lips onto mine until the moment I pulled them close to me.

Now I ache of them.

"Do you regret it, mother? Being such a fool for someone, you became what you hated most. But you endured it all for them."

Wednesday Addams, seating across the bed from her daughter, Blair Addams. She looked just like you, she'd always wonder.

Wednesday sighed, her hand reaching out to gently touch Blair's. "Do you know the phrase, 'Come ti vidi M’innamorai, E tu sorridi Perchè lo sai?'" she asked softly.

"You know I've never indulged myself in whatever you're reading." She shook her head with a smile. She looked even more like you.

She let her fingers trace patterns on her hand, her gaze wandering else where. "Well, it translates to 'When I first met you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew," she explained.

"And do you believe in that, mother?"

Wednesday could almost smile. Her daughter was always the curious one, yet she always managed to be privy of her life from them. "I always believed Y/N knew the moment we first laid eyes on each other, I fell in love with them."

"So, yes, my raven." She nodded, "I do."

"I never knew Y/n would make me their title, their theme, their muse," Wednesday pondered, "I always wondered why i fell for them."

"Falling is an accident, gullible, like with people who fail to do basic things. But I am one of those people if not more if I fell for their on accident and continued to do so."

She sat beside Blair, her legs crossed beside her. "I've never told you at the time, but Y/n was a painter. And they wanted nothing more but than to forget about their past. They have never told me as to why, but I believe them.""

"I worried that my love was violence. It was pain, it was suffering. But y/n took care of themselves, they took care of me. There is no one in the world who had loved me more than them, I fear that it would break them, that I am deemed no longer someone who is a part of their story."

"Yet here we are."

Wednesday couldn't see the smile creeping from her daughters lips. But she knew it was there, just like how you looked like before. She will always and forever take pride in it.

She always thought her greatest love could be something of a passion, a talent, a hobby perhaps.

But no one told her it could be a person.

Blair stretched and turned on a light beside her bed, opening a drawer and taking out two of Wednesday's books. "Must they be the reason your books has been off to your prior ones, mother? You've written all your life of gore and mystery. Now it's romance."

"Well, I—"

"Oh, I'm definitely the reason why your mother has been subtly—not-so-subtly, switching to the romance genre."

You peered through the door, your body wrapped up in a cozy boritto style and everything with a train draping it's way to your back like some met-gala dress.

"Oh, mon chéri," Wednesday's face lit up at the sight of you, immediately standing up and pulled you close, her arms enveloping you in a warm embrace.

Her lips met yours in soft kisses, leaving the taste of faint vanilla chapstick lingering on your lips. "Why are you up so late?"

"Well," You grinned against her lips, "I felt our bed getting cold and to my surprise my wife isn't nowhere near me. You know how I can't sleep without you." She pulled away, you whined at the lost of contact, but you couldn't smile more brightly as she led you towards your daughter. "G'evening, Blair."

"Evening, Y/n." She greeted you before you kissed her on the forehead.

You leaned against Wednesday's shoulder, whispering softly, "You're telling her our story again?"

Wednesday would've thought her small chuckle went unnoticed, but you definitely heard it. The stupid smile on your face told everything.

Her hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "She loves it."

"You love it, mother. Probably more than me." Blair retorted back, evident that she was holding back a laugh.

"I do not! When did I ever—"

"Oh, honey, you know love turns your mother into a girl version of your abuelo.

"Do not ever refer to me as my love drunk father or I will subject you to sleeping on the couch." Wednesday rolled her eyes, pinching the back of your palm. "And please do not shame my work of referring to it as such. I've worked hard day and night yet you proceed call it by such an exasperate—"

You turned your head and pressed a kiss on her cheek, the same spot where her freckles resided, causing her to pause mid-sentence. After atleast ten years of being with her, it always made you so giddy.

"Not even in marriage am I spared by your passive aggressive comments," you teased, your lips curling into a smile as you leaned in closer to her.

You hear your daughter sigh after a brief second, "Addams."

Wednesday almost looked shocked, "My Raven, do not call us by our last—"

"Please exit my room. I'll be going to sleep."

And then, the both of them were shoved off before they could even hug their daughter and kiss her goodnight like they always did.

"I... We were rejected, Y/n." Wednesday exclaimed, like she just got struck with the most heartbreaking news. "She used to love our stories together when she was an infant."

You'd think Wednesday was the non-chalant mom who's strict on her child. But, to your surprise, she was the opposite.

She loved Blair just as much she loved you. Hell, you even considered just maybe, maybe not, disowning your daughter because she gets Wednesday's attention more than you do.

You shrugged, taking her hand and leading her to your upstairs bedroom. "It gets stale once in a whileeeOW!" You winced as Wednesday pinched the back of your palm, again. It was starting to become her love language at this point.

"I'm just kidding!" You reassured her, intertwining your fingers with hers as you walked up the stairs together, pulling the door open for your wife. "She's just in her rebellious teen phase, let it go."

Wednesday rolled her eyes, "Too cliche."

"You used to have one too," you scoffed, settling onto your side of the bed and watching as she laid down on hers.

It was a routine you found yourself often doing, taking in the sight of your beloved as if your life with Wednesday was all a dream. You pinch yourself like almost thrice a day just to really make sure.

"Since when?" Wednesday asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement, quietly shuffling towards you.

You sat up for a moment to undo her braids. You always liked playing with her hair, and that one time she asked of you to undo hers, it became a routine. "Since the beginning of time. And somehow, you never grew out of it."

"You didn't even meet me in my teenage years. I am far from rebellious."

"Yes, baby, but not too far from a death penalty." You chuckled, reaching out to gentle stroke her hair, leaning in to press a soft kiss against her forehead.

"Oh, you flatter me," she replied, a smirk across her lips, but the room was too dim to even notice it.

By now, if you were any ordinary person, Wednesday would've made you disappear entirely. But, the thing is, Wednesday always seemed to look at you as if her life never really started until she found you.

Silence managed to take over the atmosphere, you laid back on the comfortable mattress, feeling Wednesday's head nestled on your arms that were tucked under her hair.

You could almost fall asleep in pure bliss knowing that you've met and loved the girl of your dreams if not for her calling out for you.

"Amore." She whispered.

"Amore?" She whispered again, her voice softer than ever before.

You blinked, momentarily. You swore you just heard an angel. "Yes, amore?"

"Can I... Can you—"

You smiled, almost too knowingly. You knew Wednesday, for someone who's such a romantic soul, she's not too expressive on simple terms like these. "Do you want to be the little spoon?"

She grimaced, you could even hear her grunts of disapproval. "I would highly refrain from calling it that before I jump out of bed and skin you from limb to limb. But... yes, I would like to."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips at her response, suppressing a grin to avoid from literally being murdered as you wrapped your arms around her and pulled her close.

Ten years before, if someone had told you that you're going to be doing this to girl you've met at a museum while trying to escape your past, let alone be happily married to her, you would've told them "How the fuck do you know that and please stay away, I have... a boyfriend. I guess."

But now, it seemed so believable. Wednesday was always so relaxed in your arms, your warmth and hers bringing a sort of comfort for the both of you.

You nuzzled your head against the back of her neck, gently moving strands of her hair aside as you pressed soft kisses against her skin, hoping to kick away her tension from the day.

"Stop pouting, Wends," you murmured softly into her skin as you closed your eyes in pure relief.

You hear her scoff, "I am not doing such a humiliating act."

"Oh but you so are." Your grin widening as you pressed another gentle kiss against her nape, "I can hear it from here."

Wednesday let out a sigh, of annoyance? Maybe. But was it tinged with pure adoration and love? Much so. "You don't hear pouts, Y/n."

"When it comes to you, I do and I can."

Silence washed over. This time, you're worried you've teased her that much, she actually got annoyed with you.

"You're awfully quiet. By this time, you're probably threatening to kill me."

"I'm... Sorry." Wednesday whispered, it has an undying tone of tenderness that you don't often see it being expressed through words from her. Slowly, she shifted her body to face yours.

One thing is for certain: She was still so terrifyingly bewitching if not more. She looked pretty in every way possible, it's hard to even believe, it left you in awe.

You feel her gaze darting on your eyes and then drifting down to your lips, hesitating even. It was ridiculous, in the most adorable way possible there is for an Addams like her.

"May I kiss you?"

"You know you're always welcome. It's pointless to ask."

She was the first to reach out, her hand finding it's way to the curve of your cheek, her touch gentle than ever as she traced the line of your jaw as if she was memorizing every feature of yours.

You cupped her face in reciprocation, leaning in closer to where your lips were just hovering inches away from hers. Then, you closed the space between the both of you.

You pulled away, your eyes meeting hers with a soft smile. It was impossible to think that this woman held your heart in her hands like it was nothing.

"Have I ever told you that you're pretty?" you whispered, letting your hands fall to her waist and pulled her close.

"Ever since you've met me."

“You know, I’m surprised you even remember our first meeting.”

“Oh, how could I ever forget my lover?”

You laughed, a symphony that always gets Wednesday to have a slight tug in her lips. “Stop being so romantic. You are a grown woman with a daughter.”

You continued to stare into her eyes as you drape the rest of the blanket for the both for you. "It's hard to think you're the first one to fall in love and not me."

"It's hard to think of anything when you're here with me, te amo." Wednesday replied, her gaze softening almost immediately.

You sighed. "You know I love you, right?"

Wednesday blinked. "I always will."

You smiled.

And Wednesday smiled back.

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

a/n: this was longer than i thought. i yap too much in stories i fear

#wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x gnreader #wednesday addams x gn!reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x female reader

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lu-vin-it · 3 months

Text

Luck

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

Part 2

Summary: You'd always been close to the Snow's, especially Tigris. You lived beside them, starved with them during the war, and helped feed them after. You've also had a crush on Coriolanus for forever.

Pairings: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

Pronouns Used: None Mentioned

Word Count: 10,962

Warnings: A LOT of murder, y/n is a tad evil!, poison, drug use (morphling), they drink some champagne too, typical Hunger Games stuff, somewhat consistent with the actual movie timeline, somewhat consistent with the book, most of the dialogue is pulled directly from a transcript of the movie

A/N: My first Hunger Games fic, Yay! It's a man, Boo! This is also a two parter unfortunately so get ready for the cliffhanger!! This is the longest fic I've ever written! I am embarrassed. Thanks to @lemkay-luminary , @lunatiqez , and @mictodii for proofreading, ilysm bffs!!!

Your family, the Rose’s, had a similar standing to the Snows. Maybe that’s why you got along with Tigris so well. You knew what she was going through, you understood her day to day struggle.

Tigris and you were pushed to be friends by your parents, before the dark days. You were two years younger than her, but still, the two of you became inseparable, especially after your parents gained back their fortune and moved into the penthouse beside theirs. Sometimes you thought you spent more time in their home than your own, after your money came trickling back.

Most of the time you spent your allowance on the Snow family. Your parents pretended to not know. You constantly bought Tigris new thread, buttons, or fabric. She refused to let you buy anything expensive; so you would go to a shop, buy the cheapest things you could find, and give those to her. Then, the two of you would sew together, usually giving the pieces to the Grandma’am or to Tigris’s cousin, Coriolanus.

Coryo was in your year at the academy, so you spent a great deal of time with him as well. You were pretty close with him too, though you wished you were closer.

The night before the Reaping and the Plinth Prize, you got home late. You had to lug dinner, your school books, and buttons all the way across town by foot.

When you arrive home, you open your bedroom door to find Tigris sitting by your bed.

She gets up and gives you a hug. “Is that bread?” She asks, glancing into your bag.

“And stew! Come, sit.” You walk into the room and over to your table. Tigris follows suit, adjusting her robe slightly. “Is everyone asleep?” You start pouring the stew from the canister into bowls.

“Yes, your sister was already asleep when I got here and your parents stopped by thirty minutes ago to say goodnight.” You nod and hand her a bowl. “Thank you! You’re my favorite.”

“You’re welcome! I have the buttons we needed too. Where is the shirt?”

“Oh, it’s in my bag.” She nods to the purse sitting by your bed. She stands up and gets the shirt swiftly. You take it from her and unfold it, it looks nearly perfect. The buttons are just the missing piece.

“This is perfect! Beautifully done, T.”

She blushes. “Stop! It’s really your doing. That is the thread you gifted me. And these buttons are going to outshine everything else.” The way she said it made you instantly believe it.

The rest of the night, you and Tigris slowly sew on each button. Trying different stitches in order to find the perfect one. Once you did, you lay the shirt down on your couch, and nod off to sleep, your last thoughts were of Coryo. What would he think of you helping with it? Would he smile in that one way he does sometimes? You couldn’t help but grin at the thought.

The next morning, you woke up earlier than usual with Tigris. You had to look your best today, even though you weren’t in line for a Plinth Prize, you knew there’d be plenty of pictures taken if Coryo wins it, and he will. You took the rest of the bread with you as you went to the Snow’s penthouse, just two houses down.

“Have you seen Tigris with my Father’s shirt?” You hear Coryo ask as you walk through the door.

“No.” The Grandma’am replies.

“Coryo?” Tigris calls out as she walks through the foyer. You trail behind her.

“Tigris?” Your classmate finally comes into view, shirtless. You look away.

“I’m sorry we’re late.” Tigris apologizes.

“It was my fault, my first alarm didn’t ring.” You say with a frown. “But! We did it!” You gesture for Tigris to get the shirt, she does.

“Well, we did something.” She hands it over. Coryo starts putting it on.

“I think it’s gorgeous.”

Tigris looks at you, clearly thankful for the compliment. “It’s beautiful.”

“Best cousin ever, and best friend ever.” Butterflies erupt in your stomach, you don’t let them show. “Tell me everything.”

“Where do I start? I told Fabricia, at work, that she needed to bleach her white curtains and I slipped in the shirt while she did it. And of course we have Y/N to thank for the buttons.”

“How much were they?” He asks, furrowing his brows.

“Don’t worry about it. Think of it as an early graduation present.” You brush him off.

“Oh. Did you find the potatoes? I boiled them for starch and you should really eat something today.”

He shakes his head. “Save them for Grandma’am.” He buttons the last button.

Tigris grins, and fixes his collar. “You look so handsome! Grandma’am! Come see!”

“Coriolanus Snow, future president of Panem,” Tigris joins. “We salute you.” You and Tigris both salute Coryo.

Later, you and Coriolanus walk into the academy shoulder to shoulder. Clemensia, Coriolanus’s class partner and a classmate of yours, comes up to you two.

“Why, Coriolanus Snow, Y/N Rose.”

“Clemmie.” Your friend replies.

“Are you two sweating?”

“It’s reaping day, we gave our drivers a day off.” You reply.

“Ugh! Those ingrates should be begging to chauffeur you around today.” Clemensia replies, not looking at you once. “Just don’t forget I was your class partner while you’re gloating over the Plinth Prize.”

“Prize? Please.” Coryo shakes his head. “I just want to serve Panem.”

She hums. “Hungry?”

“Cook served steak for breakfast, we had to throw half out.” She seemed to believe his lies.

“Shame on you, Coryo. Don’t you know that they’re starving out there in the districts?” The three of you walk in. A friend of yours, Juno Phipps, calls you over.

“I’ll see you soon, Coryo. You’ve got this.” You squeeze his shoulder before walking over to Juno .

A moment passes before the bell rings and you have to rush into the veiwing room. You run over to where Coriolanus is standing with Sejanus.

“…There’s no plinth prize today.” You overhear. Sejanus walks away. You go up to the blonde.

“What just happened?”

Coryo’s jaw tightens. “He said there was no prize today.” Your heart shatters for him.

“Come on, the reaping is starting.” You place your hand on his arm. “Today, Coryo. There’s no prize today.” You emphasize. He glances at you and nods. You drop your hand and walk in, Coryo following.

You sit down right as Dr. Gual starts speaking.

“How tantalizing to see all your shining young faces on this auspicious day.” She starts. “I am Dr. Volumnia Gaul, your humble gamemaker, in charge of the War Department and all its affiliated concerns. I’ve broken free of my laboratory today, to examine you, the leaders of the next generation. I won’t be around forever, after all.” She laughs. “And now to that end, I am honored to introduce you to the creator of the Hunger Games themselves, Dean Casca Highbottom.” Your dean steps up, clearly high on morphling, but then again when is he not?

He clears his throat. “Select students, faculty, and of course, Dr. Gaul, I have summoned you all here today for the 10th annual Reaping Ceremony in which we choose two children from each district to throw into the Capitol Arena to fight to the death in the Hunger Games.”

He gestures to the top students, sitting in front of the room. “And here sit.. our own twenty-four top prospects all waiting to hear the results of hard study in this prestigious institution.”

He pauses. “Eager to learn who’s won that Plinth Prize, no doubt. And a golden future. However, I am here to tell you that there’s been a change this year. One final assignment to prove your worth. Because… the esteemed citizens of the Capitol have grown bored of the Games and simply aren’t watching anymore. And if the games are to continue there must be an audience. So, Head Gamemaker Dr. Gaul has stepped in to… incentivize patriotic values with her own unique flair, starting with you. The Plinth Prize will no longer be determined by who has the best grades.”

The top students burst into a mixture of confusion and anger. “But by who is the best mentor in the Hunger Games. This is a brand new role. As the reaping progresses live, I will allocate each district tribute a capitol mentor behind the scenes, one who must just persuade them to perform for the cameras.”

Someone calls out. “Obviously, the best mentor will be the one who’s tribute wins the game.”

Arachne, an insufferable blonde girl, replies; “What if I get a pathetic runt girl from one of the poor districts, like 8 or 12? They’re just going to die in two minutes like they did last year and the year before.”

“Your role is to turn these children into spectacles, Ms. Crane. Not survivors. Victory in the games is only one of our considerations. Your entire future rests on this last project. Oh, and I must tell you that anyone caught cheating to give their tributes an unfair advantage,” He laughs. “Will just not have any future at all.” The reaping music starts. “Oh! Here we go. Let the reaping begin.”

Dean Highbottom grabs cards and starts reading off the mentor to each tribute as the tributes are chosen. You zone out until you hear Coryo’s name. District 12, girl. Lucy Gray Baird, to be exact. The tribute walked to the stage, stuffing a snake into a girl’s dress on the way there— you wished you could’ve seen it, but the cameras panned away. When Lucy Gray got to the stage, she stood in front of the mic, and started singing.

“You can’t take my past. You can’t take my history.” The room erupted in noises of confusion. “You could take my Pa, but his name’s a mystery. Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keepin’. Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping.”

“Singing? Is she out of her mind?” Arachne yells. Your eyes don’t stray from the screen.

“Can’t take my charm. Can’t take my humor. You can take my wealth, cause it’s just a rumor. Nothing you can take, was ever worth keeping.” Lucy grabs the mic. “You can’t take my sass. You can’t take my talkin’. You can kiss my ass!” She lets go of the mic, making it thud, as she turns around to the peacekeepers. The room laughs at her.

“Well, she’s mentally ill.” The blonde remarks. You all get up, you decide to wait a couple steps behind Coryo as Dean Highbottom speaks to him.

“At least.. since the assignment is to turn them into spectacles.. at least Lucy Gray already is one.” You offer to your friend as the dean walks away.

“Let’s go home.” He says instead. You frown, but start walking with him anyway.

Once your at the Snow residence, Coryo tells Tigris everything, you chime in from time to time to add on.

“He’s sabotaging us.” He looks at Tigris, and then to you. “That girl’s not going to win these games. You saw her. She’s underfed, unstable.”

“The dean said it’s not just about winning.” You say.

“Everything is about winning. If not the Games now, then the crowd. Lucy Gray won’t survive a minute in that arena.”

“So that means we have to make every second before then count.” Tigris says.

The blonde nods. “I’ll get her to sing again.”

You snort. “I wouldn’t sing a note for you, if I were her. I wouldn’t do anything at all, unless I could trust you.” Tigris nods.

“She’s district, Y/N.” He sighs. “She knows we hate her, and she wants us dead. How am I supposed to get her to trust me?”

“Imagine it was your name that they pulled, and you had just been ripped out of your home. I’d just want to know that someone still cared about me out here.” Tigris says, softly. “Don’t discount her just because she’s district, Coryo. You might just have more in common with her than you think.” That is the difference between you and your best friend. She is so kind.. and you are.. you.

Coryo nods and stands up. “I think I know what I need to do.” He walks into his room with a short farewell.

“What do you think he’s going to do?” Tigris asks.

You furrow your brows. “If anyone knows, it’d be you.” Your best friend shakes her head.

“I may know him the best, but you two are basically the same people. What would you do if you were him?” You think for a moment. What would you do?

“Meet her at the train station.” You say with a nod. “Get her to trust me, and sing. Her singing is probably the only way he’s got a chance of winning.”

“You’re right.”

You sigh. “I just hope he is too.” With that, you stand up. “Well, I better get home. Love you, Tigris.” Your best friend stands up and hugs you.

“I love you too, N/N. Have a good night.”

You grab your bag which was on your chair and put it on your shoulder. “You too.”

The next morning, you wait for Coryo outside like you usually do, but when there was no sign of him five minutes before class started, you sprint to class.

You sat down next to Sejanus like usual. His face is full of confusion when Coriolanus doesn’t follow you.

“Where’s Coryo?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll be giving him an earful for not telling me I didn’t have to wait outside.” You whisper in response. You didn’t want all your classmates hearing the anger in your voice, but Sejanus knew you well, and besides, it wasn’t the first time Coryo made you mad.

He laughs. “Sure you will. I’ve never seen you actually yell at him. He gives you one look and you melt.”

You gape at him in offense. “I do not!” Sejanus goes to reply, but Dean Highbottom walks in, stealing all attention. He turns on the TV at the front of the room. It flicks on revealing Coriolanus and Lucy Gray Baird standing in a cage, holding hands. You are suddenly even angrier than before.

“…But this dress was my Mama’s, so it’s extra special to me.” Lucy says, showing off the skirt with her free hand.

“Mhm, and she’s in District 12?” Lucky, the reporter asks.

“Well only her bones, darlin’, only her bones.” Everything about her infuriates you. Her voice, her smile, her hair. “Do you know my mentor? Say’s his name’s Coriolanus Snow and clearly, I got the cake with the cream, ‘cause nobody else has even bothered to show up.” You curl your fists in your lap.

“Did the gamemakers tell you to jump in the cage with them?”

“They didn’t tell me not to.” You put your tongue in your cheek. ‘Didn’t tell you to hold her hand, either.’ You think to yourself. “They just said it was a mentor’s job to introduce our tributes to the citizens of Panem. And I thought, well, if Lucy Gray is brave enough to be here, then why shouldn’t I be, too?” Lucky hums.

“For the record, I didn’t have a choice.” Lucy Gray adds.

“For the record,” Lucky looks at a couple of Peacekeepers making their way to the cage. “I think you’re about to be whisked away, young man.” Before you could see anymore, the camera pans away, following Lucky as he signs off.

Thirty minutes later, Coryo waltzes into the classroom, he gives you a smile and you barely hold back a scowl.

“Your little excursion was in violation of about five different Academy rules, Mr. Snow.” Dean Highbottom says. “Chief among them, endangering a Capitol student.” Coryo stops in his tracks, about to sit down in his seat beside you.

“What, who?”

“You. I’m moving for the Gamemakers to disqualify you immediately.”

Coryo sits down. “You said we had to get our tributes to perform, not that we had to stay away.”

“I’ll add insubordination onto the list.”

“Holding her hand, Coryo, introducing her to people, you make it look as if we’re one and the same as those people.” Clemensia spits. Although you agree with her, you stay quiet.

Sejanus scoffs. “Coriolanus didn’t show those people anything that they didn’t already know—“

“I don’t need your help, Sejanus.”

“—That the tributes are human beings. Just like us. That’s why nobody wants to watch the games. It’s because people know deep down that winning a war 10 years ago doesn’t justify starving people’s children, taking away their freedom, their rights.”

“Snow fell down in the cage. It fell in the cage, but landed..” You look over to see Dr. Gaul in the doorway. She wears the same smug smile she always wears.

“On stage.” Coryo finishes her riddle.

“You’re good at games. Maybe one day you’ll be a gamemaker like me.”

“If the games continue at all.” Sejanus mumbles.

“Oh they’ll continue with performances like young Mr. Snow’s in that zoo. And I came here to ask your star mentor a question.” We all wait in anticipation. “What are the Hunger Games for?” Instead of waiting for Coryo to reply, you turn to the book on the table and read, blocking out the sounds of Sejanus and Dr. Gaul arguing.

After class, you leave as quickly as possible, ignoring Coryo as he tries to stop you. When he stops, you glance back to see him frowning at you. A pang of guilt racks you, but you continue walking away. You knew it’d be bad to confront him now, you were more angry that Lucy Gray got his attention so quickly than anything. And you knew Coryo would see that.

You are able to avoid him until you are on your way to lunch, and he pulls you into a classroom.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

You sigh. “I’m hungry, Coriolanus. I know you are too, let’s go to lunch, please?” You move to open the door but he moves in front of it.

“What is your problem?”

“What’s yours?”

“My problem is that you’re ignoring me! And you didn’t defend me to Highbottom!”

You roll your eyes. “You told Sejanus not to.”

“You’re not Sejanus.”

You scoff. “Yeah well you were treating me like him.”

Coryo scrunches his face up. “What?”

“No warning this morning? I waited outside for you for thirty minutes.” You start. “And imagine my surprise, when I finally do go to class, that you blew me off for some district scum!” You spit. Coriolanus stares at you in shock. A second passes before you realize what you said. “I didn’t.. they aren’t scum, I didn’t mean that.” You rush out.

“You did mean it.” It’s like a switch is flipped, and you can’t help but feel drawn to this side of him. A smirk slowly appears on his face. He takes a step towards you. “You know how much I need the prize, Y/N. Forgive me for not telling you?” He takes another step, and you back up, crossing your arms. “You know I’d never purposely blow you off for Lucy Gray.” He reaches his hand up to your face. A foreign gesture. Butterflies erupt in your stomach. “Why don’t you come to the zoo with me later?” He gives you his signature smile and you melt.

With a sigh, you nod. “Fine, whatever.”

“Come on, wouldn’t want anyone catching us here alone, rumors may start.” You squint your eyes at your friend, was he flirting with you? “Lunch?” He offers you his arm, and you loop your own through it.

In the cafeteria, you and Coryo sit at a table across from one another. You eat in silence, while Coryo tries to put food in his pocket.

“Trying to fatten that girl up so you can finally start taking bets?” Sejanus asks, sitting in the other chair at the table.

“You think they’ll give those kids a scrap if we don’t give them a reason to do it? How do you think your tribute will have a chance if he can’t eat?” You reply, defending Coryo.

Sejanus looks at the blonde boy. “I see you’ve already gotten back into Y/N’s good graces.” You roll your eyes, Coryo smiles slightly. Sejanus turns back to you. “He was my classmate, back in 2.”

“It’s not your fault it’s him.”

“See, I know. I’m so blameless, I’m choking on it.” He looks at his tray. “My Father bought him for me, you know, at the Reaping, just so he could show me that I could never go back..But being Capitol is going to change me.” He admits quietly.

“So do something about it.” You say.

“Quite the rebel.” Sejanus jokes.

“Oh yeah, N/N’s bad news.” Coryo says with a nod. You laugh.

Later, you and the boys go to the zoo. Sejanus immediately tries to talk to Marcus, while you and Coryo look for Lucy Gray.

“Lucy Gray!” The blonde calls out as you approach the cage. “This is Y/N Rose, a good friend of mine.”

“Well hello there, Y/N.” It takes everything in you to smile.

“Hi, quite a show you put on at the Reaping. Beautiful voice.”

She tilts her head to the side with a smile. “Oh stop, you’ll make me blush.” Coryo pulls the food out of his pocket. “That for us? Jessup!” You furrow your brows. What was she doing?

“I’m not hungry.” A boy, the other tribute from 12, replies.

“Do you think I can’t hear your stomach growling, Jessup Diggs? Come on.” Jessup gets up and takes half of the food, and then sits back down.

You wince, seeing a nasty bite on his neck. “What happened to his neck?” You ask.

“A bat bite. The first night on the train, he didn’t sleep a wink the whole journey ‘cause he was keeping the bats off me so I would get some rest.” Noble. ‘Is he not aware of the whole fighting to the death thing?’ You wonder.

“Can you take it?” You look over to see Arachne taunting a tribute. “Come on, try harder than that.”

“One thing I learned in twelve, is that hunger is a weapon.” She gestures to Arachne. “Your friend over there sure knows it.”

“She isn’t our friend.” Coryo says quickly.

“She’s poison with perfect teeth.” You roll your eyes.

“Are you going to share everything that I give you with Jessup?”

“Why? You think I ought to build up my strength so I can strangle him in the arena?” She laughs. “Not exactly my forte.”

“I might have a chance to help you, make some suggestions to the gamemakers. I might even be able to get the audience to send you gifts in the arena. Food and water to keep you going.” He pauses. “You just have to try singing again to win people over.”

Lucy Gray crosses her arms. “I don’t sing when I’m told, I sing when I’ve got something to say. Besides, I’ve seen your arena, there’s no place to hide.”

“What’s your point?”

“The guards say you get money if you get more people to watch and you say you wanna help me, so which one is it?” You look at Coryo, wanting to hear his answer. Knowing he would say he wants to help her, but hoping that he’d crush her instead.

“Both.” You look down to conceal your smile.

“One more time!” Arachne yells.

“I’m not playing this game.” The tribute replies.

“Come on!”

“You shut up.” She growls.

“Uh.. No, thank you. I saw you staring.”

“Please.”

“Give me something. I’ve been sitting here for 15 minutes!”

“Always thought there was plenty of food in the Capitol.” Lucy Gray says, staring at Arachne and the tribute.

“You know, one time, during the war, I ate a whole jar of paste just to take away the ache.” You look at Coryo sadly. You remembered that day,

“How was it?”

“Pasty.” You smile.

“That little one, she’s so sweet. So young.” Lucy Gray points at a young girl sitting on a rock. “Something about her reminds me of my cousin Maude Ivory. I can’t stand to think of them without me.”

“I’m sorry.” Coryo replies.

She gives you both a pained smile. “You two seem like a good match.”

You shake your head. “Oh— Well—“

“Thank you.” Coryo interrupts you. You glance at him, but his face gives nothing away. You aren’t sure what was happening with Coriolanus, was he trying to hint at something?

“Come on, just take it.” Arachne taunts again. This time, the tribute takes the bottle, and breaks it. She then uses the broken bottle to slit Arachne’s throat.

You gasp. “Oh my—“ You grab onto Coryo, He pushes you behind some peacekeepers as he runs for Arachne. “Coryo! Stop— What are you doing!?” Fear racks your body, and your eyes fill with tears as the peacekeepers start firing without a target. The tribute that slit Arachne’s throat fell, being shot at least twice. Peacekeepers forcefully remove Coriolanus from Arachne while others grab her body. You run over to Coryo and hug him tightly. “A-Are you okay? Were you shot?” You pull away and scan him.

“I’m fine, were you hurt?” You shake your head and hug him again.

That night, you sat on the Snow’s couch, Tigris’s arms around you, completely silent.

“It’s starting again. This is how it begins, the war.” The Grandma’am says.

“It was my fault.” Coriolanus replies quietly. “I suggested that we meet the tributes.”

“You’re just lucky that your songbird didn’t peck out your eyes, too.”

“She’s not a rebel, Grandma’am. She’s just a girl.” Tigris argues.

The old woman laughs. “Trust me, that one hasn’t been a girl in a long time. Outside this Capitol, they’re savages, one and all. However they may smile, she will use you. You must use her too, or you’ll end up dead in the trees like your Father.” You reach out and put a hand on Coryo’s shoulder. He doesn’t react, and the four of you sit in silence for a moment.

“I should go home, see my parents.” You give a pained smile. “Can’t spend my whole life here.” Tigris smiles at you. “I’ll stop by tomorrow with dinner.” You stand up, giving Tigris a quick hug, and then giving the Grandma’am a kiss on the cheek.

The next day was even worse. All of the mentors went to the arena with their tributes, and after five minutes, the arena was bombed by rebels. You didn't even know until Sejanus came knocking on your door hours later to tell you that Coriolanus was injured. You ran to the hospital.

“Tigris!” You whisper-shout when you walk in. She quickly stands up and rushes over to you. “How is he?”

She engulfs you in a hug. “Okay. Nothing is broken.” You let out a breath of relief. You let go of her and walk to the side of his bed where two chairs were. You sit in one of them, Tigris going to sit in the other. You look at him sleeping soundly, he looked fine.

A tear falls down your face, but you quickly wipe it away. “How long has he been asleep?”

“Couple of hours, he passed out after Lucy Gray saved him.” Your neck snaps to Tigris.

“She saved him?”

Your best friend nods. “Something collapsed on his leg, she lifted it for him, got him out.”

You furrow your brows. “I’ll be back.” You kiss Tigris’s cheek. “There’s food in my bag, eat some?” She nods. You rush out, heading straight for the zoo.

“Lucy Gray!” You yell when you get there. It was starting to get dark, so there were more peacekeepers than usual. “Lucy Gray Baird!” You call out again. Finally, the girl pops her head up from behind a rock, her face morphs into confusion when she sees you, but she stands and walks towards you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“You saved him.” She nods slowly. Tears pool in your eyes again. “They said he may not wake up until tomorrow.” The tribute deflates.

“Well.. I appreciate you telli—“

“Do you need anything?” You interrupt, swallowing your pride.

“Well.. Coriolanus said he’d get me a guitar for the interview tomorrow night.” You nod.

“I’ll get it for you, and if he doesn’t make it to the interview I’ll have Sejanus, he’s the boy from 2’s mentor, give it to you.”

“I appreciate that, but, aren’t I competition? Why would he help me out?”

“Sejanus doesn’t see things like we do. Plus, his tribute escaped, he’s already lost the prize.”

“Okay then. I appreciate you, Y/N Rose.” You nod.

“Sleep as well as you can.. I know it’s hard on the ground, but..” You pause. “Coryo needs this prize.” Lucy Gray cocks her head to the side.

“Don’t you mean I need to win the games?”

You shrug. “They go hand in hand.”

“Hm.” She nods. “You have a good night, Rose.” You turn around with a wave, and head back to the hospital.

“Where’d you go?” Tigris asks as you sit beside her.

“Zoo. Needed to make sure Lucy Gray was taken care of.” She nods. “Has he woken up yet?”

Tigris smiles. “For a minute. He asked about you.”

You glance at Tigris, trying to not sound so eager. “What did he say?”

“He wanted to make sure someone had told you, and then he wanted to know where you were. I told him you ran home to change.”

You nod. “Thanks.” You look at the clock on the wall. It was already eight. “If you want to go home, you can. I know you have work tomorrow. I’ll stay here.”

“Are you sure?”

You nod. “I told my Mom I would be at yours all night.”

“You’re an angel.” She hugs you. “Get some rest, N/N.”

“You too.”

Tigris came back a few hours later so you could actually go home and change, but then she had work. You sit with Coryo all day. Your Mother stops by around three to drop off some food.

“Are you coming home tonight?” She asks.

You glance up from the food. “Probably not, doc said Coriolanus would be up soon, so I’ll probably help Tigris look after him tonight. She does work, so she’ll need to rest.”

“The Games are tomorrow, Y/N. You need to get some rest too.”

“Oh! Speaking of, Lucy Gray needs a guitar for an interview. It’d be a shame to buy a new one since.. Well, since she won’t be around to enjoy it. Would you mind getting Tessa’s and giving it to Sejanus when he goes?”

She tilts her head to the side. “Does your sister know about this?”

“She will when you tell her?” You scrunch your shoulders up and give her a smile.

Your Mom huffs. “Fine. What time will Sejanus be at the house?”

“In an hour.”

��Okay. I love you.”

“Yeah, you too.” She leans down and kisses your cheek, you return the gesture, she then leaves.

Two hours later, Sejanus walks in.

“Y/N? Hey.” You glance up from the pants you’re sewing.

“Oh, hello, Sejanus.” You place the pants on the table beside you, carefully placing the needle on top. “Why aren’t you at the interview?”

He shrugs and sits down beside you. “Wanted to watch it with him, I guess. And you. You guys are my best friends.” ‘What? He barely knows me.’ You think to yourself. You smile.

“Oh, alright then.” You grab the remote and turn on the TV. The interviews were about to start.

“Has he woken up yet?”

“Once last night. I was at the zoo, but Tigris was here.”

“Speaking of, where is she?”

“Work. Did you get the guitar?”

He nods. “Yes! Lucy Gray is ready.”

You give him a small smile. “Good. Thank you.”

He shrugs. “I want him to win the prize. I dunno how I’d survive University without you both.” You nod and turn to the TV, the girl from district 3 was being interviewed. She was the first, since all of the tributes from 1 and 2 were dead or, in the boy from 2’s case, on the run.

You and Sejanus watched in silence until the girl from 11 came on stage, and Coryo started stirring.

“Coryo?” You stand up and stand at the edge of his bed. He slowly opens his eyes.

“Y/N?”

You grin. “Coryo! Right on time, Lucy Gray is almost up.” You nod to the TV.

“How’re you feeling?” Sejanus asks, standing.

“Fine, really. So, they’re actually going on with the Games?” Sejanus nods. “Wow.”

“I first met this young lady in the zoo not too long ago,” You glance at the TV, Lucky was about to introduce Lucy Gray.

“She’s coming on.” You tell them, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“From District 12, Lucy Gray Baird! Get over here with that guitar, you songbird!” Lucy Gray walks on wearing your sister’s guitar.

“Did you get her that?” Coriolanus asks. You glance back and smile.

“I went to thank her for saving you, she mentioned you were going to get her one.” He smiles back at you, searching your eyes. “You’re very welcome.” You wink and turn back to the TV.

“…We fell on hard times, and we lost our bright colours, you went to the dogs and I lived by my charms.” Lucy Gray sings. The donations start going up.

You reach back and place a hand on Coryo’s forearm. A moment passes, as you watch the donations pile up, Coryo slowly moves his arm and slots your fingers together. Butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“…So who will you turn to tomorrow, I wonder? For when the bell rings, lover, you’re on your own.”

“It’s working.” Coryo says, breathing a laugh.

“Of course it is.” You look back at your friend with a grin. “Snow lands on top.”

He smirks. “Snow lands on top.”

The interview ends and Sejanus leaves soon after, leaving you alone with Coryo.

“I brought you food, it’s cold now, but I can get it heated up for you.” You tell your friend as you turn to him.

“Y/N, thank you… For everything you’ve done to help me.”

You smile and squeeze his hand. “You and Tigris are my best friends.”

“You’re my best friend too.” He hesitantly sits up. “Will you help me get home?”

“Sure, you need to get some rest, big day tomorrow.” You stand up. “I’ll go tell a nurse.”

The next day was the start of The Hunger Games. You got up especially early so that you could have breakfast at the Snow’s and then go with Coriolanus to watch the games.

“Tigris? Coryo?” You call out, entering the penthouse.

“Hello, Y/N.” The Grandma’am says from the table.

You walk over with a smile. “Good Morning! How did you sleep?”

She shakes her head. “I barely slept. Whispers of another rebellion keep me up.”

You give her a sympathetic look. “I’ll keep you safe if there is one. You can come with me to my family’s bunker.” The Grandma’am gives you a wary look as if you couldn’t be trusted. She did that with everyone these days, although she had yet to do it to you too.

“Good morning!” You hear Tigris say as she leaves her room.

“Morning. I brought food.” You open your bag and pull out containers.

“Of course you did.” She sits down beside you. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine, I’m nervous for today.” Tigris frowns, as if she’d forgotten what today is. Coryo steps out of his room a second later.

“Good Morning.” He sits down beside The Grandma’am, giving her a kiss on the cheek. There are circles under his eyes.

You give each of them a portion of the food you brought. “Someone didn’t sleep.” You tease.

“I went to see Lucy Gray last night.”

You furrow your brows. “After I left?” He nods. Why would he do that? “Too bad you didn’t tell me. I would’ve loved to see her one more time.” Tigris’s eyes flicker between you two.

“You don’t think she’ll win?” No.

You smile sweetly. “Of course I do, Coryo. But when she does she’ll be shipped back to 12. We’ll probably never see her again.” Coryo seems to believe you, and sinks into his seat. Your stomach aches from jealousy.

A few minutes pass, and once all of you are done eating, you stand. “Well, I think we ought to be on our way.” Coryo nods, and stands up as well. “See you soon, T.”

“Have a good day, I’ll be watching from work!” Tigris stands up and gives you and Coryo each a kiss on the cheek.

When you walk downstairs there’s a car waiting for you like usual. You slide into the backseat and Coriolanus follows. Once you’re both buckled, you close the privacy screen between you and the driver.

“Why did you go alone last night?” You ask suddenly.

Coryo raises his eyebrows. “I felt like I needed to tell her thank you, like you did.”

“All alone at night?” You chastise. “Did you learn nothing from Arachne? You could have been killed!”

He scoffs. “They’re in a cage.”

“The Peacekeepers aren’t.”

“The Peacekeepers aren’t going to shoot me.”

“Not purposely but they’re awful shots! You saw what they did when Arachne was attacked, why did you put yourself in that position?”

He sighs. “I was giving her something.” He admits. “She isn’t going to win on her own, so I gave her something, is that what you wanted to hear?”

You blink at him in surprise. “What did you give her?”

“It’s best if you don’t know. If Highbottom finds out I don’t want you dragged into it.”

“But I want to be dragged into it. Coryo, do you know what they’ll do to you if they find this out?”

Your friend scowls. “Of course I know. But this is the only way I have a chance at winning.”

“Coryo, you’ve already completed the assignment. Lucy Gray is a spectacle.”

“You and I both know he won’t give it to me unless she wins so just forget about it.” You frown and scoot closer to him, laying your head down on his shoulder.

“Maybe I should just save up my allowance for a while and I could give it to you–”

“No, Y/N–”

“It wouldn’t cover the whole thing but it’d make a dent in the tuition at least.”

“No. I’m not letting you do that.”

You can feel tears filling your eyes. “Then Lucy Gray has to win. I won’t survive The University without you.”

He grabs one of your hands. “She will.”

You walked into The Academy hand in hand with Coryo, you tried to let go before you got out of the car, thinking he wouldn’t want people to see, but he just picked it back up.

When you walked into the room the games were being viewed in, Dean Highbottom walked up to you. “That friend of yours, Plinth,” He starts, nodding to Sejanus who was talking to another classmate of yours. “You might want to find him a seat near the door.” He grimaces before walking away.

“Weird.” You mumble.

“Coryo, Y/N!” Sejanus calls. He walks up to you both.

“Hey.” Coryo replies, his face stone.

“How’re you doing? You alright?”

The blonde nods. “Better.”

Sejanus grimaces. “Tell me this will be over quickly.” The screen in front of the room turns on revealing some tributes.

“We should take our seats.” You say. You turn to Coryo with a smile. “Good luck.” You squeeze his hand and then walk over to the viewing stands.

“Everyone, as you know, we’re about to go live.” Lucky starts. “Just because you’re not hosting doesn’t mean you're off the hook, help me! Don’t get lost behind your screens. No yawning, no gum chewing, keep your chins down, heads up, shoulders back, and smile! It's why we have teeth.” He grins. “Okay, ready? We’re gonna start guys. Five, four, three, two…” An orchestra plays and the cameras turn on. “Good morning, I’m Lucretius “Lucky” Flickerman. A man who needs no introduction. Weatherman, amateur magician, and today, I’m honored to say, first ever host of The Hunger Games!” Everyone breaks into applause, you join in, clapping unenthusiastically. “In my hand, an envelope, sealed. My prediction, the winner, will be opened by me, at the end of the big show’s end.” He brings his hand up to his ear. “We’re getting word… alright, we’re about to start! We’re starting everyone! Happy Hunger Games!” He turns to the students. “Remember, when your tribute dies, get out.”

You can hear the Tributes entering the arena, and reluctantly walking to their marks. Then, you see something else. Marcus was tied up, half dead, in the middle of the Arena. You gasp with the rest of the room.

Sejanus stands up in shock. “Marcus!” He yells.

Lucky grimaces. “Guess we can all sleep better now that we know he’s off the streets!”

“You’re monsters!” Sejanus shouts at the Dean. “All of you!” He runs out. The countdown starts at ten. You sit up straighter.

“Jessup! Jessup!” Lucy Gray shouts. You furrow your brows. Everyone around her started running to the pile of weapons in the middle of the Arena.

“What is she doing?” You mumble. Reaper, the biggest tribute, runs straight at Lucy Gray with a scythe, but she ducks. Then Coral, the girl tribute from 4 runs at her with a trident. She dodges the first and second blows before backing up and dodging the third, causing Coral to impale another tribute through the stomach.

One of your classmates leans down and throws up. You scrunch up your face in disgust.

Two tributes were already dead. Lucy Gray rolls off of the rubble, narrowly missing an axe swung by the boy from 7. She stands up and manages to get away from two more strikes before someone throws a knife, hitting the boy's arm. Another knife is thrown way too close to Lucy Gray.

She looks around, finally finding Jessup across the arena. She screams his name again and climbs on top of the rubble, knocking out one of the other tributes with her elbow once she gets up. She rolls off the other side, making brief eye contact with Coral, who pulls her trident out of someone’s chest.

Lucy Gray reaches Jessup and pulls him up, shouting about how they had to go now. Some of the other tributes already started chasing them, but Lucy Gray manages to run into some of the tunnels, dragging Jessup with her.

“They’ve gone underground quickly, but we’ve prepared for this!” The cameras switch and you can see Lucy Gray again.

They run through the tunnels, checking all the doors that they pass. Every single one is locked.

“What you’re seeing now, is a live feed of security cameras.”

“C’mon..” You grip the bench.

Coral and her group enter the tunnels, and Lucy Gray starts frantically looking for some hiding place. She finally gets through a small entrance on the bottom of a door, then, she pulls Jessup through it.

Two other tributes are found by Coral’s group in the tunnels. They are slaughtered on sight.

“Do you think they’re done?” One of your classmates asks.

“Looks like it.” Lucky turns to the cameras. “To the children watching, that was violent, horrific, and disgusting.” He turns to the girl that threw up. “Ms. Phipps, please, if you’re going to vomit, do it off camera.” He gives her a pitiful smile and then looks at the camera. “Thirteen tributes still remain. Reaper still looming large on top of the charts, while Coral and her pack try to make a play. Six tributes gone in minutes. If they keep it going up at this pace, we’re gonna be outta here in no time!” He then starts giving the weather report.

You stand up and walk over to Coryo’s seat, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“She survived the worst part of the games, who's to say she won’t survive the rest?” You give him a lazy smile which he returns.

“Rose, back to your seat. The rules for spectators are very clear.” Highbottom reprimands. You nod at the dean and squeeze Coryo’s shoulder before walking away.

You stay there until 8, when all viewers are forced to leave. You give Coryo a small wave and a smile before you leave, he only waves in response. He looks exhausted.

At midnight, Dr. Gaul shows up on your doorstep.

“You need to come with me, now.”

You squint your eyes. “Why?”

“It’s about your friend.”

Your brows furrow in concern. “Is it Coryo? Is he okay?” Was he caught? Was Dr. Gaul here to bring you in for questioning?

“Mr. Snow is fine, it’s Sejanus Plinth that’s in trouble. I don’t know how he broke in, or who he bribed, but Sejanus Plinth is currently in The Hunger Games arena and I need you and ‘Coryo’ to get him out.”

You sigh. You always did have a feeling this ‘friendship’ with Sejanus was going to end up costing more than it’s worth. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Dr. Gaul ends up taking you to a car that Coryo was already sitting in. She doesn’t blink twice when you sit next to him, or when he holds your hand, something that’s become a daily thing at this point.

When you arrive at the arena, you and Coryo are ushered through the gate. You both wince at the turnstile as you walk through it, it was loud enough without the voice announcing, “Enjoy the show” for all of the tributes to hear.

Coryo pulls you closer to him and you put up no fight. You walk towards Sejanus as fast and as quiet as you can. You’re incredibly paranoid, frantically looking around you at all times.

“Thought they’d send my Ma.” He murmurs when you get close.

“We wish they had.” You reply, venom lacing your voice. Sejanus didn’t even flinch.

“You guys need to go.”

“We’d like to, we really would. But we promised we’d get you out.”

“Why?”

“Because you're our friend.” Coryo says. You want to say ‘Speak for yourself!’ but you don’t.

“I had to do this. I had to go where the cameras are.” His voice breaks.

“Do you actually think anyone is watching this?” You butt in. “Gaul cut the feed.”

“Tributes kill you in here and she’s just going to say it’s the flu.” Coryo’s tone was startling. It was vicious. You barely had a chance to react when you heard a footstep. “You need to decide right now. Do you wanna fight these tributes, or fight for them? Because if you’re going to make real change, you have to stay alive.”

“How can I make any change from out there?”

“You’re rich, and smart, and you care.” You reply shakily. You need to get out of there. Every bone in your body is screaming at you to run.

Coryo nods. “You’re the only one in that class who stood up to Gaul, right?” You can hear metal scraping, and though you try to convince yourself it wasn’t a knife, you still cling to Coryo’s arm. “We’re dead right now if we don’t leave. Come with us, spend your Father’s money on some good, or just be another dead body in Dr. Gaul’s war.” You can’t open your mouth to voice your desperation to leave, so you continue to look around. “Trust me, please.”

Then you hear it. A boy tribute was shouting at you as he ran towards you with a knife.

“Run!” Sejanus yells. You book it to the exit, but you were the slowest out of the three of you. Coryo’s grip on your hand remained tight as you all ran.

As you get to the turnstiles, the tribute grabs your other hand, causing you to scream. He plunges his knife into your hand making blood spray everywhere, and you barely acknowledge it before Coryo grabs a plank of wood and hits the Tribute over the head. He hits him with all his force four times. You weren’t sure which one was the killing blow. You didn’t think about it for long, either, because as soon as Coryo started to pull you again, you realized that the knife was still in your hand, and blood was still gushing from it.

You lean on Coryo in the car ride to Dr. Gaul’s office. You can barely stay awake, but both your friend and the esteemed Gamemaker insist that you stay conscious. Something about blood loss. You scarcely remember anything leading up to your arrival at Dr. Gaul’s office; Just that you were given some blood in an IV, stitched up, and given some morphling for the pain. Thankfully, you were right as rain once the adrenaline went down. You were exhausted, yes, but back in your right mind.

You walk outside of Dr. Gaul’s office to find Coryo waiting on a couch.

“Are you waiting on me?” You ask. He looks up at you, as if he hadn’t noticed you yet. You tilt your head at him, but he just stands up and walks over to you.

“You’re okay.” The blonde places a hand on your cheek, you lean into it.

“I am. I’m very tired, and my hand hurts, but I’ll be okay in the morning.”

He lets out a breath of relief. “Good. That’s good.”

“Don’t you have to get back to the Academy?”

He nods. “I’m going to walk you home first.”

You shake your head, but a smile tugs at your mouth. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I do. You lost a lot of blood, and I won’t be able to forgive myself if something else happens to you.”

You furrow your brows. “Coryo.. This wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have told her not to send you in.”

“You think she would have listened to you?” You laugh. “You’re charming, Snow, but I don’t think your smile can capture Dr. Gaul.”

He smirks.“What’s this about my smile?”

You roll your eyes to try and seem annoyed, but your smile betrays you. “There’s the Coriolanus I know. Welcome back Mr. President, I missed you.”

“Happy to be back.”

You giggle. “I’m sure you are.” His eyes flicker to your lips. You lean in slightly, begging him to kiss you. He listens to you. It’s three seconds long, you wish it lasted forever. Butterflies flew in your stomach, dancing in joy.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do that.” He whispers.

You snicker. “Please, I’ve had feelings for you since I was twelve.” You accidentally confess.

Coryo’s smirk grows. “Really?”

Your face drops. “No. I never said that.”

“Which part? That you have feelings for me, or that you’ve had them since you were twelve?” You cringe.

“Yes?”

“Oh well, no going back on it now.”

“I think there is.”

“I’ve had feelings for you since I was sixteen.”

You tilt your head to the side in faux surprise. “Only two years!?” You shake your head. “You have some catching up to do.” Coryo laughs, and leans in to kiss you again. You reciprocate immediately.

You walked back to the penthouses hand in hand, something that Tigris immediately clocked when you stepped into their home. Previously, Coryo waited till you were outside to pick up your hand. She gave you a secretive grin, saying that she needed you to tell her everything, you gave her a nod.

“Why are you back so late?” Tigris asks you.

“Dr. Gaul sent us in the Arena tonight, Tigris.” You let go of Coryo’s hand to take off your coat. You look at him in time to see his face fall at the mention of the arena. How could you have forgotten what he had to do there? You silently curse yourself.

Tigris’ face suddenly gets serious.“What?”

You and Coryo sit across from Tigris. “To get Sejanus out.”

“What happened, are you guys okay?”

Coryo replies this time. “I killed one of the tributes. A boy.” You grab his hand again.

“That must have been awful.” She says, grasping her chest.

“It was.” He pauses. “Then it felt.. powerful.” You don’t respond, but he sees something shimmer in your eyes. Something that tells him you’re not afraid of him.

“Coryo,” Tigris starts, he finds the total opposite response in her eyes. “I know you want to be like your Father, but what I remember most about him, was that in his eyes, the only thing there was hate.” She pauses. “You don’t have to pay the same price to survive. You can be good.” Coryo scoffs. “You are good. Believe that, believe me.”

“I’m going to go back to the Academy.” He stands up, giving you both a kiss on the cheek before leaving.

“What was that? Holding hands, kissing on the cheek? He doesn’t usually do that.”

You smile slightly, looking at your lap. “I dunno. Lately things have been different, he’s been holding my hand a lot.. and today he killed that tribute for me.”

“What?”

You nod and hold up your bandaged hand. “I think his name was Bobbin? He stabbed my hand when we tried to leave.. Then he was on the ground, and Coryo was over him with a plank of wood. Next thing I know I’m walking out of Dr. Gaul’s office.” You leave out the kiss. The timing wasn't right.

“Wow. I’m so glad he was there.” Tigris pulls you in for a hug. “I’m even happier you’re okay. I couldn’t stand to lose you.”

The next morning you were back at the Academy as soon as they let people back into the viewing room. You aren’t allowed to talk to Coryo this time, but he nodded to you when you walked in, and you smiled at him as you sat behind him.

“Wakey, wakey, my Capitol friends! I’m Lucky Flickerman and welcome to day two of The 10th Annual Hunger Games! Now, while most of you were getting your sleep last night, something scintillating happened. Bobbin from District 8, slaughtered. Which one of these beasts killed Bobbin? Well it doesn’t matter. Reaper is still at the top of the boards,”

As Lucky drones on, a classmate of yours Lyssie, pipes up. “Why aren’t they showing us who killed the little boy? It doesn’t make sense, he was killed right there and there are clearly cameras surrounding him.” You tense up as she wonders aloud. She was Bobbin’s tribute.

“They said they were old, Lyssie. Probably just another one of Coral’s gang.” Festus replies, shrugging.

The cameras cut to Lucy Gray and Jessup, still in the same spot they were when you left last night. Jessup gasps, waking up Lucy Gray. He starts frothing at the mouth, and you furrow your brows.

“What did you do to me?” He asks.

“Nothing!” Lucy Gray yells back.

“Lyssie, what is he doing?” Coryo demands.

The girl stares at the screen in confusion. “Something’s wrong. He wouldn’t turn on her like this.” Lucy Gray stands up and starts running, leaving the room she’s in, and the tunnels.

“Go to the stands.. Go to the stands!” Coryo shouts at the screen.

“Stop running! What did you..” Jessup groans. “What did you do to me?” Lucy Gray starts to run across the arena.

“I didn’t do anything!” She reaches a pile of debris and starts climbing one of the collapsed pillars. It flicks to Jessup’s face again, as foam drips out of his mouth, he starts to climb the pillar too.

“The foam! The posters from the war— Rabies!” You yell, barely being able to construct a sentence.

“Y/N is right. Send him water.” Coryo tells Lyssie.

“Wait what?”

“You remember those posters in the war?” She nods. “Rabies makes you afraid of water. Send him a drone.”

“It’ll scare him!” That was true. Yesterday, the only drone that was sent went haywire, dropping the water on the tribute.

“Yes, away from her. Jessup is done, Lyssie, you’re the only one who can get it right to him.” She bites her cheek, but looks down at her computer and selects the water. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing to be proud of.” The drone flies in.

“What’s wrong with me? What did you do to me?” Jessup gets dangerously close to Lucy Gray, but the drone hits him, breaking the bottle of water, and splashing all over him. He backs up off of the pillar with a scream. Lucy Gray climbs down and leans over him.

“Jessup? I’m not going anywhere, okay? You watched over me, now I’m going to watch over you. Sleep, Jessup, sleep now.” The boy whimpers.

Suddenly, Coral’s group enters the middle, slowly walking towards Lucy Gray. They circle her, spouting taunts.

“Oh look at that, the pack doing what it does best. Packing it in.” Lucky narrates. “Lucy Gray is cornered, Mr. Snow going for his communipad.” You look at Coryo’s screen to see him sending ten waters to Lucy Gray. The drones fly in, hitting the group. A bunch of the waters break, causing dust to stir in the air, and broken glass to be thrown everywhere. Lucy Gray runs over to a fan, maneuvering it open, and then shutting it.

“These drones aren’t very good.” Coryo says, acting innocent. You grin.

“Hey! You can’t attack the tributes!” Festus yells.

“I’m just sending water.”

You look back at the screen. Lucy Gray leaves the air duct, running to the water, and placing down the one she brought with her, dumping out all the rest. She ran back to her hiding place immediately. Coral was killing the girl from District 2, while her group watched. When she was done, she walked over to the water. One of the other Tributes held the last one in his hand, about to take a drink.

“Hey, do you really think you deserve that water, right now, Tanner?” A sound from across the arena interrupts them. Wovey, another tribute, ran into the tunnels. “This should be fun.” Coral says as she runs after her. The group follows her.

Once the door to that tunnel shuts, Dill, the youngest tribute in this Game, limps out from behind some debris.

“Ah, what do we have here? Oh! It’s Ill Dill, tuberculosis on legs.” She goes to the water and takes a sip. A second passes before she starts coughing, a common plague with her. This time, however, she doesn’t stop. She coughs, and coughs, until blood splatters from her mouth, and she falls back onto the ground, dead. You put your hand on your chest, to seem upset.

Reaper jogs up to her, calling out her name. He leans down over her for a moment, shaking her, crying. When he stands up, he brings her body to the center of the arena, he goes around bringing every body over to the center, piling them. He then gets up and walks over to one of the flags hanging, grabs it, and pulls. It falls down with ease, you weren’t even sure how it managed to stay up throughout the bombing.

He lays it over the bodies and falls to his knees. “Are you going to punish me now!?” Reaper screams into the sky. “Are you—“

“Capitol students,” The screen switches to a different broadcast, revealing Dr. Gaul. “I’m afraid I must interrupt our Games to announce a tragic loss, one that affects us all. Felix Ravinstill, the son of our beloved president, has, this morning, succumbed to his injuries sustained in the rebel bombing. Out there in the districts, they will be celebrating this young boy's death as a triumph. I will not allow my Games to give our enemy such a victory. I swear to you, here and now, before the sun goes down tonight, a rainbow of destruction will engulf our arena. Even if it means there's to be no victor in these Games.” You furrow your brows. Coryo stands up, making eye contact with you before he looks at the Dean.

“I need to see Dr. Gaul immediately.” He didn’t say anything else before he left the room. You frown before turning back to the screen.

Thirty minutes later, Tigris arrives. Her hair was nicely curled and she wore a pink pantsuit made of dreams. She must have borrowed fabric from her boss, Fabricia.

“You look beautiful!” You say with a grin as you hug your best friend.

“Oh please, you should look at yourself.” She sits down beside you.

“I don’t hold a candle to you.”

She shakes her head. “Where’s Coryo?”

“He went to see Dr. Gaul, he’ll be back any minute.”

“Why’d he go see her?”

You shrug. “I expect we’ll find out in a few minutes.”

As if on cue, Coryo rushes back in seconds later. “Lucy Gray, is she okay?”

“She won’t be for long.” Festus replies.

“Wait, what’s wrong with Treech?”

You look at the screen, Treech suddenly starts coughing, just like Dill did before she died. You didn’t think anything of Dill’s death, but Treech was fine before. When he coughs up blood and falls to the floor, you know what happened. Coriolanus gave Lucy Gray rat poison. That’s why she left a water bottle. She must have put some in the water. Your mind is swirling with potential scenarios, if you’ve already found this out, Dr. Gaul definitely has.

You hear the wind start blowing, causing you to snap back to reality. Something was being lowered down into the arena, and Lucy Gray was finally out of the air vents. The huge cylinders get set down, and the drones fly off. They start to crack, before both cylinders break, and millions of colorful snakes fall out. You gasp.

Wovey comes out from her hiding spot, curious as to what everyone was so surprised about. “Is it over now? Can we go home?” The snakes went after her immediately.

“Wovey!” Reaper cried. “Wovey, no!” The little girl screams as the snakes wrap around her legs and bite down.

The arena bursts into chaos. Everyone remaining was taken by the snakes, all but Lucy Gray, who sat on the mountain of debris with snakes covering every inch of her body as she sang. They weren’t hostile towards her.

“It’s over! Dr. Gaul! Dr. Gaul you need to get her out of there!” Coryo screamed at the Gamemaker.

You stood, going over to Coryo. “Dr. Gaul, let her out, she won, you have to let her out.”

“It’s over!” The entire room shouts at her.

“Get her out.” The Gamemaker finally says.

“Yes!” The room cheers. You jump into Coryo’s arms, hugging him tightly.

“You did it!” You yell. You pull away and grab his face. “You did it, Coryo! You won!” He laughs.

“I won!” He places his forehead against yours, before backing up and giving Tigris a hug as well.

Later that night, you, Coryo, and Tigris opened a bottle of champagne in their living room.

“To Coriolanus Snow, winner of The 10th Annual Hunger Games!” You toast clinking your glasses together before taking a drink.

Tigris finishes her glass in one drink. “Okay, as much as I’d love to continue celebrating, I have work tomorrow so we’ll have to celebrate this weekend.” She stands up, kissing you both on the cheek. “Goodnight! Congratulations, Coryo.”

“Goodnight, T!”

“Goodnight.”

The second she disappeared behind her bedroom door, you set down your glass, then took Coryo’s to set his down as well.

“What are you doing?” You look at him, and lean in to kiss him. His hands instinctively go to your waist, and yours go to his shoulders. This kiss is longer than your previous ones, you savor each other as you move in sync.

When you break, giddy grins take over both of your faces. “I wasn’t able to do that before.” You say with a small shrug.

“Maybe you should do it again, you know, to make up for it.” You roll your eyes but lean in again.

Two hours later, you and Coryo were laying on the couch, silently looking at one another as you traced his features. “You’re so handsome, Coryo.”

“Thank you.” He cusps your cheek. “I don’t deserve you.” He whispers with a frown. “You’re so good, and I’m so.. awful.”

“If either of us are awful, it’s me.”

“You’re not awful.”

“I am. I didn’t even flinch when you killed that boy in the arena. I was.. happy that you defended me. And that’s only a bit of it.. I am rotten. You and Tigris are so much better than me.” Coryo sits up, causing you to also sit up, basically all the way on his lap.

“Not only did I kill someone, but I felt good while doing it. And I can’t tell myself I wouldn’t do it again. Especially if I’m defending you in the process.” He confesses.

“I think I’d do the same for you.” You reply.

You went home a few hours later, completely exhausted. You slept until twelve the next day, when Tigris barges into your room, yelling that Coryo is to be shipped off to District 12 in the morning. Your heart drops.

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

Part 2

#coriolanus snow x reader #coryo x reader #coryo snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #tigris snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coryo snow fanfiction #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo fanfiction #lucy gray x reader #sejanus plinth x reader

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motherofdogs1010 · 2 months

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Letters to Juliet & Romeo I (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

Summary: Heartbroken and in the midst of the Great War as a nurse, Y/N L/N writes to a person she never expected to write to before... her brother's friend, Thomas Shelby... But the war's over now and it is time to face the letters...

Warnings: wartime angst, talks of wartime violence, pre-Peaky Blinder Tommy, soldier Tommy

Italics: content of the letters

A/N: Inspired by the movie 'Letters to Juliet', also there is no real timeline of when Tommy goes into the tunnels in France

January 1916, 2 Years into the Great War (WW1)

"L/N, you got a letter."

Looking up from the book she was reading, Y/N set it to the side as one of the soldiers came in, handing her a envelope that was a little dirty, had seen a little wear and tear but she recognized the hand writing on it.

She recognized his handwriting after months of writing to Tommy, Y/N remembered the first time she had written Tommy; it came after months of not hearing from her brother when he had left to France with the rest of the men in Small Heath. Y/N had made the decision to join in as a nurse with the Red Cross and maybe it was foolish, but she remembered the night before leaving on the train, when her nursing uniform was on her bed as the nerves were coursing through her that she grabbed a piece a paper and began to write.

Dear Thomas that letter began, she poured out everything about how Small Heath was, how she had signed up as a nurse and how she prayed she wouldn't find any of them in the camp hospital she was going to be. She had written how she barely had made the qualifications of being a nurse for the Red Cross with her just having turned 25 and such.

"Who keeps writing you, F/N?" one of her fellow nurses teased.

"Don't you know that's her boyfriend?" another responded.

"He's not my boyfriend", she denied, feeling a heat go through her.

"Sure he isn't."

The letters have begun as something innocent when Tommy had responded back to her first letter, she could sense the shock in his letter about her writing him but as the letters progressed, so did their relationship through their letters.

Opening the newest letter, Y/N felt a sense of anxiety in her as she remembered having had the courage to send Tommy a picture of her in her uniform; she remembered taking the picture once her training had been done, having donned the periwinkle, long-sleeve floor-length dress with the white apron that wrapped around her and went down to the ground. She had to tightly wrapped her back back into the white cap like habit.

A big red cross over the chest of her apron, she had sent the photo off with her letter and prayed that he didn't dislike it.

Reading the letter, she traced over his handwriting, feeling where he pressed hard on the paper as he wrote as she read how he found her to be beautiful in her photo.

You look even more beautiful than when I last saw you...

It made her heart clench as she saw how he wrote how he hid the photo in his service jacket from the others, that he didn't want them to see the lovely girl that kept writing him letters because he felt possessive over this same piece of heaven that was keeping him sane.

Y/N could picture Tommy in the trenches, covered in grime and dirt as he had to listen to the horrors of the wartime. She read how he longed for the war to be over, how he was fortunate enough to be with people that he knew, but he was terrified.

They're sending me to the underground soon. They want me and the others to be sappers, dig in the tunnels under No Man's Land

Y/N felt her heart drop at the prospect of Tommy going into the tunnels, having to dig with shovels under the handles broke and he would be forced to dig with his hands. She had seen some soldiers came in, having treated their hands for digging under the trenches and dealing with the explosives.

My only comfort is you, being able to bring the picture you sent me down in the ground where death might be waiting for me... the only thing that has gotten me through this damned war is you...

"Ladies, we got mass casualties coming in!" their head nurse shouted into the tent. "Look alive, ladies!"

Y/N tucked the newest letter into her pillowcase, knowing she was once again about to face the horrors of the war as she reminisced on Tommy's smile, she knew he smiled a lot.

But now, she had a feeling he didn't smile as much.

Dear Thomas,

I'm sure you're curious as to why you received a letter from B/N's litter sister. Frankly, I'm a little shocked I'm writing to you, I've not heard from my brother no matter the amount of letters I've sent.

That was how the first letter started, Tommy sometimes would re-read the letter when he couldn't sleep amongst the noises of screaming soldiers and anxiety.

"Shelby, ya girl's sent another letter", one of his fellow soldiers said as he held out a envelope.

Tommy grabbed the envelope, none of his brothers were around as he opened the letter; he remembers the shy smiles Y/N would send him when he would see her as she visited her brother, the little nose wrinkle she got when she would laugh a loud, deep belly laugh (one that he knew others called unladylike, but that he remembered fondly).

He felt the smooth texture of a photo in the letter, pulling the picture to his eyes and he felt a sense of... love come over him as he saw the picture of her in her nursing ward uniform. A small smile on her full lips, the roundness of her cheeks that only made her look younger, he could see in her eyes the nerves of everything. The cap hid her hair from view and he wondered if she had cut it short like other nurses were forced to do because of sanitation and he was curious if she still smiled.

He hoped she did because the only time he smiled was when he got her letters...

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders #x reader #chubby reader #reader insert #thomasshelbyxreader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby smut #peaky blinders x reader

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kalki-tarot · 3 months

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A message from your higher self 🦋

Disclaimer : this reading is just for entertainment purposes and kalki tarot is not responsible for any decisions you make in your life on behalf of this reading.

Masterlist for more such readings.

Pile 1

Cards I pulled for you : Page of swords, the tower, 9 of pentacles, 5 of swords, two of cups, the lovers ( bottom of deck : the wheel of fortune and Justice )

Your higher self is telling you to be spontaneous and relaxed. I know you might be confused because how can someone relax when a lot of things are going on and a lot of changes are taking place at once. You are going through a rebirth.

And I when i say rebirth, I mean you are shedding away the dead skin. A massive destruction. You are shedding away your past, your fears, anything which has been holding you back since a long time. You are stepping into your highest possible timeline and becoming the best you could ever imagine.

And when you ask why is this happening or taking place, the answer is because you and your twinflame or a higher level telepathic soulmate are coming into a divine union. You guys had karma attached to yourselves, a lot of karma to clear up before you meet. You know some fears, insecurities and all. It is all being released. So just relax an FLOW.

You are on the right path and you need not worry about something. Just don't be stuck in the hurtful past. Be in the present moment. Don't obsess, just cherish what you have right now.

Pile 2

Cards I pulled for you : the hanged man, 7 of cups, knight of swords, page of swords, the magician, the fool ( bottom of deck : 7 of swords )

Your higher self knows that currently you are at a standstill in life. You are stuck maybe? Or your are just at rest, taking rest. You don't know what to do in your life now at this point. You are not sure where you are headed. You have a lot of options in mind but you are not choosing one thing because you are very much unsure of how things would unfold for you.

You are asked to take risks in terms of your life. You'll know only if you take a risk. You'll move forward only if you take the first step. But you are not taking that first step. Do it. Pile 2.

Life is all adventurous and thrilling but you are making it so boring. Don't think about the past or the future. Be in the present moment and take risks.

Be like a youthful child. Be free and spontaneous. Don't block your own self. Remember that you have the power to create the kind of life you want. What are you waiting for?

You can delay things but you cannot escape it right? Don't be afraid to a take a step.

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youunravelme · 1 year

Text

head start

author’s note: s/o to @ethancale for making me come out of a writing slump of like two/three years. it should be noted that the reader is one year younger than jack. it should also be noted pt. 2 that i am just now understanding hockey so if the timelines don’t match up or i mess up terminology, oh well, i tried. this is my first thing i’m posting on here so please be nice, or don’t, i can’t tell you what to do.

pairing: jack hughes x reader

summary: you’ve had a crush on the middle hughes brother for as long as you can remember. and really, why wouldn’t you? he’s everything. so why would he ever fall for you?

warnings: a little mention of drinking. cursing? writing in all lowercase? is that a warning?

13/14

summers at the lake house used to be fun, full of wakeboarding, the scent of sunscreen, the feel of fresh water hitting you in the face. but that was before you turned thirteen. before you realized your best friend unintentionally sent a shiver down your spine that couldn’t be blamed on a cold wind.

and it’s not like he noticed, jack hughes still referred to you as his little sister as he tousled your hair. you were just fortunate enough that he was too focused on hockey to really care about other girls so you didn’t have a direct line of comparison.

“are you gonna come swim or not?” jack burst into your kitchen, your parents, who sat at the table with you, didn’t even bat an eye. you had a spoonful of cereal halfway to your mouth that was quickly dropped back in the bowl.

“why? are you bored?” you teased, secretly hoping this would be the moment he confessed his undying love for you, but he just shrugged and moved his wet hair out of his face.

“i need someone to help me drown luke.” your heart sunk a little bit, but what did you expect? a love confession in the artificial lighting of your kitchen?

you sighed and pretended to think about it, like you weren’t two seconds from sprinting upstairs and changing just to spend time with him. “alright,” you started, not missing the way he smiled in triumph. “just let me get dressed.”

while you changed, he made small talk with your parents. your dad was really into hockey, and probably resented not having a son who would play though he would never admit it.

you came back downstairs dressed in a one piece (your parents still insisted you were too young for bikinis) and lathered in sunscreen. “let’s go!” you said as you ran past your parents and out the back door.

“race you to the water!” you screamed over your shoulder as you sprinted barefoot towards the dock. you could hear his feet pounding behind you, knowing you only had a few seconds before he inevitably caught up, you pushed faster.

only for him to beat you at the last second, jumping straight into the water with you following shortly after.

“you had a head start and still couldn’t beat me!” he yelled at you once you breeched the surface.

pretty was the only word you could think of to describe the way he looked at that moment with water falling down his face and the sun lighting up his eyes.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice softer than before.

“i--”

“incoming!” luke launched himself over you and jack, splashing the both of you and ruining whatever moment you thought you were having.

if you were hesitant about helping jack drown his brother, you were sure now.

17/18

“new jersey's a long way from michigan,” was the first thing that came out of your mouth when you saw jack after he was drafted. you both sat on the dock outside his house, feet dangling in the water, shoulders close enough to brush against each other.

he shrugged it off, like he always did. “that’s why we have phones.”

but a phone can’t recreate your hugs or the way your laughter feels inside my chest is what you wanted to say. but you settled for: “you’re right. but you have to promise to always pick up when i call.”

“that’s a hefty promise.”

“this is a hefty friendship.” he still didn’t look convinced. “look, it’s not like i’ll call when you’re at practice or every friday night. i just don’t want you to forget about me when you become rich and famous.”

jack laughed like it was the funniest thing he ever heard. “i could never forget about you.”

your heart soared in your chest much like the birds above the lake. everything about what he said sounded sincere and it lit a flame in your stomach that you’d never experienced before.

“i mean,” he continued. “ at the very least, the buck teeth you had as a kid are seared into my mind. i couldn’t forget those even if i tried.”

and there it was: the reminder that he’d always see you as a child, even if you were only a year younger. it sucked knowing he’d only ever attribute you to your awkward phases and never the growing woman you were slowly becoming. the year age gap never seemed like a problem when you were younger, but the older you got, the more he seemed to reference it.

a flicker of confusion appeared on his face before you realized you hadn’t laughed at his “joke.” so you plastered a smile on your face and playfully rolled your eyes. “funny,” you said because it was easier than confessing that it hurt.

“hey,” he started, bumping his shoulder with yours. “regardless of what happens, you’re still my best friend.”

“and you’re mine.”

and maybe that’s as far as your relationship goes, maybe you never get to experience what his lips would feel like on yours, but you’d settle for sunsets on the dock if it meant he could stay a little longer.

18/19

his rookie year might’ve sucked, but your senior year didn’t. you don’t know what it was, maybe it was your hair, or the fact that you cared a little bit more about your appearance, maybe it was because you stopped giving a fuck what others thought and just lived your life.

or maybe, and the saddest maybe, was that you stopped being jack’s little shadow.

you used to wait around for him to answer the phone, knowing his practice schedules and games like the back of your hand and working around them. you’d watch him play on the tv and wait two hours before attempting to call him. and to his credit, he did pick up the first month of living in new jersey, but then it was every other call, then every other week, then once a month until you stopped calling altogether.

luke noticed the difference, often walking over to your house to find you not at home, only to see you getting out of a car at 2 in the morning, stumbling drunk up to the front door.

he caught you one day in the hallways of school between classes. “are you alright?”

you opened your mouth to answer, but you were cut off by a pair of lips swooping down and planting one on you. your boyfriend, matt, mumbling a quick hello before he headed to class.

“sorry about that,” you said once matt disappeared down the hall. “what were you saying?”

luke didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at you and the retreating back of your boyfriend. “jack’s in town tonight for a game last one of the season, just wondering if you were going.”

“did he get tickets?” you asked.

luke nodded. “one for mom, dad, you, me, and rachel--”

“rachel?” you said quietly, already feeling the dread rise up in your chest.

luke rolled his eyes, not taking notice of the panic bubbling underneath the surface of your body. “jack’s new girlfriend,” he explained. “she’s nice and all, just not who i saw him being with.”

“oh,” you said. then a beat later, “can i bring matt? i’ll pay for his ticket.”

luke looked hesitant but nodded anyway. “i don’t think it’ll be a problem, let me text jack and i’ll let you know.”

by the end of the school day, you got a text confirming that matt could come, ellen and jim opting to just pay for it instead of bothering jack about it.

the game itself was good if you ignored jack’s mediocre performance, something you never thought you’d ever say out loud. and for the most part, you didn’t pay attention, choosing to focus more on explaining the game to matt. when the game ended, you kept close to matt and luke, ignoring the excitement of rachel (who was not as bad as your jealousy led you to believe), and completely unaware of the looks ellen and jim kept shooting each other.

after what felt like ages, jack finally appeared from the locker room, freshly showered. rachel ran up to him first, hugging him tightly before he could even take in the appearance of anyone else.

“you did great, babe!” she cheered.

you had to keep a snort to yourself because he did not, in fact, do great, and judging by the look on his face, he knew it too.

jack pulled away from the hug and finally looked at who came to support him, but his eyes stopped on the arm around your waist. three things seemed to happen at once and so quickly that you couldn’t really understand their meanings. his eyes darkened, his jaw clenched, and he swallowed like he was being force fed something he could barely tolerate.

but they all disappeared in the moment his parents hugged him, luke following up with a smaller hug until the only people left to greet him were you and matt.

“hey,” you said, unsure of how to greet someone who essentially dropped off the face of the earth.

“who’s this?” he asked, eyes locked on yours.

you furrowed your brows. after months apart, little to no communication, this was how he greeted you? but a quick glance at his family and rachel told you it wasn’t the place to pick a fight.

“this is--”

“matt, i’m her boyfriend,” matt cut in, extending a hand to shake.

jack glanced at the hand and then you before hesitantly reaching out to shake. “jack, her best friend.” was all he said.

but matt didn’t stop there. “the one who stopped answering her phone calls?” he asked right as you felt the blood drain from your face. he tilted his head to the side to appear innocent, but you were familiar with that gleam in his eye.

jack didn’t back down, he just clenched his jaw. “and you’re the boyfriend no one mentioned? must sting, knowing you weren’t important enough to be invited in the first place.” he smiled and shrugged before turning around, kissing rachel, and heading back towards the locker room.

you shot a glare at matt before chasing after your best friend.

“jack wait!” he stopped walking, but didn’t turn around until you tugged on his wrist.

“what?” he asked, sounding tired and burned out, unlike the heat of his words just seconds before.

“i’m sorry he said that, he’s usually not...” you trailed off.

“such a dick?” he deadpanned. “i’d hope not.”

“jack...”

he held his hands up. “sorry. that was out of line.”

“little bit.”

jack sighed and ran a hand down his face. “why didn’t you tell me you were dating someone?”

you looked at him with your brows furrowed once again. “when should i have done that? the fourteenth or fifteenth phone call you didn’t answer?”

“i’m sorry--”

“you broke your promise, jack. and i get it, you’re busy but you said you wouldn’t forget about me and you did.”

“i never did!” he insisted. “listen, i know there aren’t enough excuses in the world to make up for how i’ve treated you the past few months, but i didn’t forget about you, i swear. i just didn’t want you to hear about hard it was playing professionally, i didn’t want you to be disappointed in me. my family’s reactions were hard enough.”

“i never thought less of you, jack. i was just waiting for you to talk to me about it.”

“well now that we’ve established that i’m an idiot for ignoring you, can i take you and everyone to dinner? as a treat for being a shitty best friend?”

for the first time that night, you left a genuine smile grace your face. “of course.”

you broke up with matt two days later.

20/21

when you were younger, you dreamt of going to ivy league schools and living out the dark academic lifestyle, but being at michigan proved to be better than anything you could’ve imagined. the culture, the campus, the sports all had you in a chokehold.

which was why you were grateful that luke continued playing hockey (as if there was any doubt).

“are you coming to my game this week?” he asked one night while you both were hanging out in his dorm. “jack will be there.”

you did a double take and nearly spit out the water you were sipping. “he will?”

“since he’s not an all star this year, he has a bye week. said he’d come see me play.”

your heart pounded in your chest. “oh,’ was all you could say.

“but if you ask me, i think he has ulterior motives,” luke said, wiggling his eyebrows in the process.

“okay stop that,” you threw a bottle cap at his head. “it’s weird and freaking me out because i have no idea what you’re implying.”

“don’t play dumb with me now,’ luke started. “you’ve had a crush on my brother since you were like twelve and you haven’t dated anyone seriously since matt.”

“and?”

“and? jack hasn’t really dated anyone since rachel.”

“he said he was too focused on hockey.”

luke scoffed. “if a guy wants to date someone during hockey season, he will make it happen. the point is, jack isn’t interested in dating just anyone.”

you blinked.

“do i really have to spell it out for you?” he asked. “jack likes you.”

“no,” you immediately replied. “i’m not getting my hopes up on a chance.”

“there is no chance! it’s the truth!”

“did he tell you that?”

“...not in so many words.” you opened your mouth but he butted back in. “but i know my brother, even better than you do, i know what he looks like when he’s in love.”

“jack doesn’t love me like that,” you mumbled.

“why couldn’t he? you’re a catch, and he’s known you forever. hell, i’d date you if there was a chance that you’d go for me and that jack wouldn’t absolutely murder me.”

“you’re out of your mind, luke,” you said before standing up. “and i’ve got to head home. i’ll see you at the game, alright? don’t suck.”

a few days later, you found yourself freezing your ass off sitting front row when a sweatshirt was tossed onto your head as someone plopped down in the seat next to you.

“why can’t you ever remember to bring a jacket to these things?”

jack.

you smiled and shoved him in the arm. “you made it!”

“of course i did, wasn’t gonna miss seeing luke play.” when you took a look at him, you noticed how his hair had gotten longer but was hidden under the baseball cap he wore, probably in a sorry attempt to keep things low-key.

“how have you been? how’s the team been?”

jack clutched at his chest. “you mean you haven’t been keeping up?”

you rolled your eyes but laughed anyway. “it’s better to hear from your mouth than random sportscasters.”

“it’s better, i really love it.” you made eye contact and for a second, the chatter around the room dissipated. the only ones who mattered were the two of you. “how have you been? how’s school?”

but you were lost in the cerulean color of his eyes. all you could muster to say was “fine,” before the buzzer went off, signaling the start of the game and snapping you both out of whatever trance you were in.

when one of luke’s teammates scored, you both jumped up and screamed, but it was jack who leaned down and yelled over all the noise. “you better cheer this loud when you come to my games.”

“i don’t think so!” you yelled back. “luke is my favorite hughes brother, now.”

you barely got the words out before his hands attacked your sides, pulling shrieks and laughs out of your mouth. “take it back!” he said.

you kept laughing until you couldn’t take it anymore. “fine! i take it back.”

“say ‘jack is my favorite hughes brother.’“

you opened your mouth--

“no wait, say ‘jack is my favorite hockey player of all time.’“

you rolled your eyes but did it anyway. “jack hughes is my favorite hockey player of all time. there, you happy?” he nodded and suddenly it didn’t matter that you had to sacrifice some of your pride. how could you care about anything else when jack hughes smiled at you like that?

you both met luke down by the locker rooms, jack swearing to take you both out to dinner to congratulate his brother on a game well played. the three of you went to a small diner in town. luke sat on one side of a booth, jack on the other. you stood contemplating which seat to take before jack tugged you into the booth beside him, throwing his arm over your shoulder like it’s always found a home there. luke smirked but said nothing.

it would be another few weeks before you got to see jack in person again. both of you tiding yourselves over with facetime calls and texts.

he brought up being in town for another game and wanting you to attend. you drove yourself and luke to the arena, dressed in jack’s jersey you bought from a merchandise section.

“i’m sure he would’ve given you one if you’d just asked,” luke said.

“it’s not that big of a deal.”

“jerseys are expensive.”

“thanks luke, i had no idea.”

“i’m just saying, you could’ve gotten it for free. he would’ve done it gladly.”

by the time the both of you made it to your seats, the game was about to start.

jack was having a great game. with multiple assists and goals scored, you found yourself wondering how he was even human. there were seldom times where you and luke were actually seated because the both of you were cheering and jumping so much.

at the end of the game, both you and luke made your way down to the locker room, waiting for jack to finish with the interviews as he got off the ice.

“don’t look so nervous,” luke said. “he’ll be happy to see you.”

and sure, that was true, but there was something about that night that felt different. he kept moving his sweaty hair out of his face and glancing around. it wasn’t until he caught sight of you and luke, that jack quickly wrapped up his interview and all but ran towards them.

“good game jack,” you smiled. but his was brighter.

“you came,” he breathed. you could vaguely register luke walking away, but didn’t think much of it.

“you asked me to, why wouldn’t i come?”

“you’re entirely too good for me.”

“jack what’re you talking about--” but your words were cut off when his hands grabbed your face and pulled your lips to his.

it didn’t feel like fireworks, or butterflies, or anything you imagined it was be. it felt like coming home. like the culmination of all your dreams met in that exact moment. his lips were chapped and he smelled like sweat but you couldn’t have imagined this moment any more perfect than it already was.

you only stopped when the need for air overrode the need to stay close to each other.

“what was that?” you whispered.

“a few years in the making,” he replied. “how long for you?”

“since i was twelve.”

he laughed and kissed you again. “you had a head start and i still beat you.”

fin.

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #my writing

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