#i think what bothers me is that there's definitely people who watched the original and are now working on this one so

[darknight3904]

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘖𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘓𝘪𝘧𝘦

𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘈 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴, 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘛𝘢𝘤𝘰 𝘉𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭.

𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘭 & 𝘞𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦 (2024). 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘎𝘦𝘯 𝘝, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘝𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢 𝘕𝘦𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘳 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦.

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘝𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦.

𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥/𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 30𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 3.7 𝘬

𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 / 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 / 𝘔𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Happy 21st of September! Originally, I had Pitbull in this story and at the last minute decided to change it to Earth, Wind & Fire.

Logan wasn't sure what to think as he watched you, Wade, and Vanessa pregame your evening. At this rate, the three of you were going to be too drunk to even get in your Uber, let alone actually walk into whatever club or bar you were supposed to be going to.

"Want some, Peanut?" Wade asked as he tipped another shot back

"No." Logan said from his seat at the table

"Oh c'mon, since when did you give up drinking? You were Frank Gallagher level when I picked you up in your universe! Don't tell me you're going all righteous on me!" Wade pushed.

"Are you even able to get drunk?" He asked suspiciously

"Are you?" Wade grinned

"It's girls night, Logan. Humor me with a shot." Vanessa smiled warmly

He slowly took the shot glass from Wade's hands before quickly downing it.

"If it's girl's night, why is this one going with you?" He asked nodding at Wade who was pouring more drinks.

"Honorary member." You winked at him

Logan shook his head, you were definitely drunk already. Senseless flirting didn't fit your style. Not that it mattered much since Logan wasn't focused on any of that currently. The only reason he was still sitting here in the kitchen tolerating Wade Wilson was you, or more particularly, what you were wearing. The skimpy black dress, if it even qualified as that, was simply mesmerizing. The way it hugged your body in all the right spots and left little to the imagination was driving him mad.

"If you keep staring, you eyes are going to pop right out of your head." Wade snickers in his ear

"Fuck you," Logan says

"You wish." Wade sighs

"Why don't you come out with us, Logan?" Vanessa asks

"I'm fine here, got lots of stuff to do." He grunts

"Fucking your hand to that picture I gave you isn't stuff." Wade chastizes

"What picture?" You ask, a mean-looking smirk on your face

"So glad you asked, Pumpkin. Logan here now has a picture of yo-"

Logan jumps up, slapping his hand over Wade's mouth. The slink of his claws coming out of his other hand have the room silent.

"Shut the fuck up." He orders, letting Wade go.

"Sorry, daddy." Wade laughs, darting to hide behind Vanessa when Logan swings for him, claws gleaming in the light.

He takes another glance at you and that damn dress. Fuck it, he wants to stare at you all night, he might as well get a few drinks out of it. And not just the shitty vodka Wade was trying to shove down his throat.

The club, he hadn't bothered catching the name of, was packed. He could practically smell the sweat that was rolling off some of these people. Didn't they shower? Was there a soap shortage in this dimension?

"Kesha!" Vanessa yells as a new song starts.

On his right, you jump up from your seat, eager to dance to whatever electronic-sounding beat this was. He watches as Vanessa leads you to the dance floor.

"Y'know I bet she can sense all the blood that's rushing to your dick right now. Don't you have any shame? You perverted old man!"

"Do you ever stop running your mouth?" Logan groaned, tearing his eyes away from you as you disappeared with Vanessa behind groups of strangers. If they weren't in public Wade would've had three silver claws lodged in his brain right now.

"Nope! Unless you give me something to occupy it with." Wade grins, "I'm talking about what's down under, Peanut. Pull it on out, I bet it's Hugh. Ha! Get it Huge? Hugh?"

Logan scowled at the inappropriate joke, choosing to ignore the Australian accent Wade had thrown into the middle of the sentence. There was something seriously wrong with him.

"Ugh, I fucking love girls night." Wade sighs, tossing his head back

"You're not even a girl." Logan points out

"You transphobic bitch. What if I decided I was this morning?" Wade gasps beside him.

"You've decided to be a girl?" Logan asks

"No," Wade replies, "It's the idea of it."

Logan had no idea what he was babbling about as he leaned forward to sip at his drink.

"I know about your little crush." Wade says, "Can I just say you're totally brave for that one. She always looks like she wants to rip your head off."

"What would you know about it? All you do is give puppy dog eyes to Vanessa." Logan growls, "Too scared to make the first move, bub?"

"Hey, I shared that with you in a moment of vulnerability." Wade groans

"You shared that after you chain-smoked three joints and did a line of cocaine." Logan reminds him

"Yeah, that was nice." Wade sighs, "I'm just saying, you, kitty cat, are bolder than bold, going after a girl that could literally blow your head off your body."

"I'm not going after anyone," Logan says, standing up no longer interested in babbling with Wade.

"Yeah, alright." Wade snorts

The upbeat tune of September by Earth, Wind & Fire has you half-deaf as you dance with Vanessa. The intense body heat of everyone else around you was almost too much as Wade suddenly appeared. In the colorful light, his toupee almost looked real.

"I fucking love this song!" He declares, wrapping a big arm around Vanessa.

Your eyes dart back to where he came from. The table was now unoccupied, minus the empty glasses of your drinks.

"Where's Logan?" You half yell

"Stumbled off to the bar. I think I made too many dick jokes!" Wade responds

You deliver a harsh slap to his chest which has Wade letting out a faux whine of pain.

"Only blue talk and love, remember. How we knew love was here to stay!!"

Wade's off-beat singing has you groaning and Vanessa laughing. They truly were a good match for each other.

You push your way through the crowd of people as you grow closer to the bar. The alcohol in your system had you a bit overconfident as you got closer to him. Perhaps you could convince him to come out to dance with the group. You get closer to him, his small tufts of brown hair unmistakable as he stands at the bar and nurses a drink.

"Oh come on? Not even one dance? I'm a great dancer, y'know."

The vixenish voice of a stranger fills your ears when you finally get close. A tall blonde in a bright red dress was hanging off Logan's arm, her chest pressed into his bicep as she batted fake eyelashes at him.

"Not interested." Logan sighs

You watch the interaction occur. You'd never really seen Logan interact with anyone outside of the apartment.

"You sure?" She smiles, "I'll let you take me to the bathroom when we're done."

Your eyes widen when she leans in and gently bites at Logan's ear lobe. The alcohol has filled you with liquid courage as you close the distance between you and this mystery woman.

"Fuck off." You say to her, "There won't be any mystery trips to the bathroom. Go find another dick to suck."

She turns her head to her and you expect her to ridicule you. Perhaps even call you a bitch for interrupting whatever seduction technique she had going.

"Look at you." She coos, letting go of Logan.

Before you can even process what's happening, she's in your personal space, hands running through your hair and down your body, coming to rest on your waist.

"And I thought he was the finest thing in the club tonight." She smiles, "Have you ever been with another woman?"

Logan slams his now-empty drink onto the bar as you whip your head to him.

"She's not interested. Neither am I." Logan growls

A pout appears on her face but she takes a hint and stumbles off into the crowd, off to find another sucker.

"She wanted both of us." You breathe in shock

"Can't blame her," Logan says quickly

"What?" You look up at him, embarrassed when his eyes are trained on your skimpy dress.

"Nothin', bub." He says with a cough, "Where's the idiot?"

You point to the dance floor where you left Wade and Vanessa. Your eyes widen when you see the two of them making out under the neon lights of the club.

"Looks like we're going home without them." Logan sighs, you're sure you can hear a hint of disgust in his tone.

"Yeah." You sigh, leaning against the bar next to him, "They're cute together though."

"You're nicer when you're drunk." Logan points out, not interested in agreeing with your statement.

"I can still be mean." You say looking over at him, thinking about insulting that stupid face of his

Logan raises his hands in surrender, "I'm good."

The rest of the night is a blur. At some point, Vanessa finds you and whispers into your ear that she and Wade are leaving together. You stay by Logan's side, tired of dancing. Logan has somehow talked you into trying a drink out of your comfort zone and now a martini that takes like gasoline is in front of you.

"Swallow it!" Logan commands next to you over the music.

In the back of your mind, a joke about blow jobs bounces around. It never comes out though because the drink is burning your throat as it goes down.

"That is disgusting." You groan

"It's not that fruity shit you like." Logan laughs as he looks at your face that's pinched together in disgust.

"Not my fault all the drinks you like taste like an old man's bath water."

"Hey." Logan gently nudges you in annoyance.

"Can we go home?" You ask him suddenly

"You sure you're ready?" Logan responded, "Thought you loved to dance?"

"I do, but," You glance down at your feet which are still in your heels, "My feet feel like they're going to fall off my body."

Logan shakes his head with a laugh, "Alright, we can go home."

Logan settles the tab and then leads you out of the club into the cool October air. You're a bit drunker than you thought you were as you lean against a telephone pole, waiting for an Uber to show up. You cross your arms across your chest as a breeze blows by.

"You alright?" Logan asks

"Fine." You mumble

Logan's eyes scan your body as he takes in your drunken shivering form. He rolls his eyes but shrugs off his jacket anyway. Don't girls ever think about bringing jackets with them?

"Thank you." You softly say as he drops it over your shoulders

"Don't mention it." Logan sighs

He glances down at his phone. Where the hell was this Uber?

"Logan look!" You gasp

He follows your pointed arm to see a stray cat, digging through a trash can.

"Here kitty!" You exclaim, leaving your spot by by the telephone to try to go after the cat that looks even meaner than you were when sober.

"No, stop." Logan sighs, reaching to grab you by the arm, "That cat doesn't want anything to do with you."

You deliver a hard punch to his side when the cat runs off. How was it his fault that the cat got scared?

"Just stand there and wait for our ride." He orders, his phone says ten minutes away.

A beat of silence passes as you actually listen to him for once. And then, your mouth is opening again.

"Let's go get Taco Bell." You declare

"What?" Logan mumbles

Before he knows it, you're in the street, moving faster than he thought you could in those shoes. Your destination? The Taco Bell a few hundred feet away. Whoever put it across from the club must be making a killing of all the drunk people.

Logan can feel his anger simmer but he pushes it back down as he catches up with you.

"I need to get you a leash." He says as he makes sure you don't get hit by a car.

"Kinky." You laugh as you pull the door to the fast food restaurant open

You place your order and then tell him to get something for himself. He shakes his head at the annoyed-looking employee.

"He'll have a Crunchwrap." You say confidently like you know his Taco Bell order.

"I don't want one," Logan says

"You're a big guy, you need to eat." You say

Logan sighs but doesn't object. His stomach is grumbling a bit. He reaches into his pocket for his wallet but is stopped by your smaller hand wrapping around his wrist.

"Cut the Sugar Daddy act." You say plainly

Logan's eyes widen as you pull a twenty out of, well, your boobs and hand it to the girl behind the counter. He's not sure how she takes that without disgust. Was it a secret girl code? Boob money?

One Crunchwrap, two classic soft tacos, and a Baja Blast later, he finally has you in the Uber, munching on your food. He doesn't want to admit it, but the greasy food tastes like heaven as he swallows it. It must've been all the alcohol in his system.

You're somehow even drunker as he gets you up the many flights of steps and into the apartment. He tries to shush you and you nearly fall onto your face when he opens the door.

Logan can't tell if it was a good idea to come along for this outing. At least you weren't drunk and alone.

He watches as you flop down onto the couch and begin to pull at your impractical shoes. He sighs and kneels down in front of you, taking your foot in his hand. He curses the little buckle that keeps the heels on you and your giggle fills his ears.

"C'mon time for bed." He says pulling you up.

He leaves you in the bathroom, under strict instructions to brush your teeth as he sneaks into your room, careful not to wake Laura who fell asleep with her headphones on. He rummages through your clothes looking for pajamas. His hands reach for the top drawer of your dresser and Laura's voice has him freezing.

"Third drawer down. That one's got her underwear."

Logan swears his face is redder than Wade's fucking suit as he thanks Laura, blindly pulling a t-shirt and shorts for you to wear.

Back in the bathroom, he's pleased to find you actually brushing your teeth.

"Get changed," Logan says putting the the clothes onto the counter.

You spit in the sink and his eyes nearly pop out of his head when you wiggle out of that damn dress and drop it to the floor. He finds himself spinning around to face the wall, pretending like he didn't see nearly all of you. You had gone out all night without a bra? He could hardly believe it.

"Don't cream your pants." You snicker as he blushes

"Time for bed." You sigh, trying to walk by him.

"Hold on." He grabs you by the waist, spinning you around to face him, "You gotta take that shit off."

"You mean my face?" You ask so dumbly he nearly laughs.

"The makeup." He rolls his eyes

"Ughhh but I want to go to bed." You groan like a child

"Ten minutes ago you asked the driver to take you to Costco so you could get free samples." He raises an eyebrow at your sudden tiredness.

"And now I want to go to bed." You declare

He sighs and quickly picks you up, placing you on the bathroom counter with ease.

"Hey!" You scold, swatting at his hands when he lets them drift too far down towards your ass.

He swears he didn't mean it...He'd never do something perverted like that.

"Stay still." Logan orders, rummaging around in the makeup bag you kept under the sink.

He comes back up with makeup wipes and begins to gently clean your face. It's domestic bliss as he watches your eyes flutter shut under his touch. He feels his heart squeeze as he thinks of the last time he did this for his version of you. It felt like it had been a thousand years since life felt that simple, a life with you in it.

"You're good at this." You sigh, fully relaxed under his hands

"I've had practice." He replies, wiping the dark eyeshadow from your face. You're so much prettier like this, he knows he can't say that out loud though so he holds it in.

"What happened to her?" You ask suddenly

"Don't wanna talk about it." He says

"C'mon. I thought we were supposed to be bonding." You groan

Logan looks at you. You still look utterly wasted, he doubts you'll even remember this tomorrow morning so he decides to throw you a bone.

"I uh...I left her. Ran off like I always do." He sighs tiredly, "She went after me. Tried to convince me to stay with her."

"That's all?" You drunkenly ask

"Drunk myself stupid at some bar and then when I finally grew the balls to go back, it was too late. Humans went mutant hunting and I came back to her and the whole team dead." He said, his eyes fixed on the tiled floor. And even though he had made his peace with it all, he hated thinking about how he failed you.

In front of him, you slowly nod, "At least you know she loved you."

"Doesn't do me much good now. Besides I never got to tell her my own feelings, so why does it even matter?" He grumbles as you open your eyes to look at him. He can't help the way his heart skips a beat when your eyes meet his. Perhaps there's a chance for a do-over in this new life of his. You're right here, a new you is sitting right here in front of him.

"My Logan hated me."

"Was it that star personality of yours?" He finds himself joking, trying to cover up his previous thoughts. He thought about the many fights the two of you had gotten into. He thanked the gods the alcohol was mellowing you out now.

"He was a piece of shit." You glare at him.

Logan raised an eyebrow, wondering what this man had done. Perhaps it was the source of your foul mood towards him now. Whatever it was, it seemed like it was the opposite of whatever he had with his universe's you.

"What'd he do?" He finds himself asking, genuinely curious.

"What didn't he do?" You scoff, glaring at him like he was the cause of your anger.

Logan nods slowly. Perhaps trying to get you to spill your secrets while drunk wasn't the best idea.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." He assures

You catch his hand that was moving the wipe down the bridge of your nose.

"I was stupid really." You whisper, "I got attached to an asshole who only had eyes for Jean Grey. He used me to get her attention off of Scott."

Logan lets out a small hum of acknowledgment as he drops the wipe into the sink and lets his hands fall to your thighs. He gently rubs circles over the skin that your sleep shorts leave exposed to his greedy eyes.

"I should've known better, I guess. I mean shit, I agreed to it all being casual when he asked. " You sigh, ""S' my own fault I ended up heartbroken."

You look down at your lap where his hands still rest on your thighs. He can feel the sadness pouring off of you as you speak again,

"I got caught up in a stupid dream, and thought I might've had a chance at calling him mine."

Logan is surprised to see tears falling down your face. He can't help but give into the instinct that's screaming at him, the one to comfort you and chase your sadness away. The tears are hot and land on his hands as he gently hooks a finger under your chin, making you lock those teary eyes with his.

"Hey, what's with the tears?" He asks, "Don't cry for some asshole."

You sniffle again and a fresh wave comes out and runs down your pretty face, "Sometimes, I don't know what's wrong with me. M' always going after the wrong guy."

"Let me tell you something," Logan softly smiles at you, "You are, quite possibly, the most annoying person I've ever encountered."

You let out a scoff followed by half a hiccup, "Thanks, Logan."

"Let me finish, hon," He says, "Even the most annoying version of you doesn't deserve something like that. Y'gotta let that asshole go. There's plenty of other guys out there."

A soft silence beats between the two of you as you nod and let a few more warm tears trickle down your cheeks.

"Still crying?" He smiles

"I can't stop. There's something wrong with me." You laugh a bit

Logan gently runs a thumb over your face, brushing the tears away. It's a familiar gesture, one he used to do often for you.

"What other guys are there? And don't you dare say, Wade." You say, your face serious

Maybe it's the alcohol in his system but Logan tosses his head back and laughs, "You're too good for Wade. Besides he'd drive you nuts."

"He already does." You admit

His own name is on the tip of his tongue. He knows he'd be crazy to say it to you, so he doesn't. You didn't deserve to be burdened with whatever stupid feelings he had towards you. Why should you get stuck with him after you escaped that prick from your universe, everyone deserved a clean slate, even you. Whatever it was he felt would go away eventually. At least he hoped they would.

"Can we go to bed now?" You ask, "Before Al wakes up and tries to shoot us with that gun she keeps in her bedside drawer."

"Course we can." Logan nods, helping you jump off the counter.

He lets you lean on him a bit as you stumble down the hall, still woozy. He slowly pushes your door open, and he knows its self-indulgent but before he lets you go, he presses his lips to your forehead.

He can tell you're flustered by it but you remain silent as you look up at him.

You catch him off guard and gently press your lips to his cheek, "Goodnight, Logan."

"Goodnight," Logan says, hoping the darkness hides the boyish smile that certainly is playing on his lips.

He can't believe that just happened.

Part Four

I'd like to think secretly the Wolverine from the newest movie is a big softie. Like did you see the way he smiled at Wade when he introduced him to Blind Al? He's just a slightly emo, soft-hearted guy.

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[mariautistic]

Still thinking about this gif

[sincerelyneo]

omg hello! i missed you so much!!! 💖 would you consider reposting arcade again?? it was legit the best thing i’ve ever read omg i was so sad when i couldnt find it anymore

its fine if you cant tho!! im glad youre backkkk💖💖💖

ofc i can, i’m glad you liked it <3

arcade | p.js

“i’m out of control, full power up”

💿now playing: arcade by nct dream

❯ summary: Jisung’s been nothing but busy lately, so when you hear he got the weekend of your anniversary off, you can’t help but plan something to spend time with him. Expect, the only thing jisung wants after his busy month is you — and he’s not gonna let your silly arcade date get in the way of that.

❯ pairings: jisung x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut, fluffish.

❯ words: 3.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, fingering, exhibitionism, reader uses she/her pronouns, use of the name baby, jisung takes pictures whilst fingering reader in a photobooth idk???

"You brought us to an arcade for our three year anniversary?"

You look over to Jisung standing by your side as the pair of you stood in front of the arcade entryway with the giant neon sign above your heads.

"Yeah, surprise - who doesn't love a date night with pizza and an arcade?" You grin, trying to hide the look of nervousness fighting to show once you notice his frown.

“Baby,” he groans, whiny, “I thought we were gonna go home after the pizza.”

You may have lied to him about that.

When you told Jisung about tonight’s date, he originally objected. He wanted to have a chilled night in with just the two of you — alone. Something he hadn’t had for the past four weeks he’d been strung up at work. Yet, you insisted that the two of you celebrated your three year anniversary just like you had done for your first and second.

So instead, the two of you came up with a compromise: head to your favourite pizza place, then come home and watch a movie snuggled together on the couch. In Jisung’s mind ‘watch a movie’ was code for letting his hands roam all over your body whilst he watched you whither and squirm, but he figured it was best to not discuss the minute details.

But don’t get him wrong. Just because he wanted to have a quiet night in didn't mean he hasn’t missed you — because oh he has. He’s only bothered the rest of the dreamies with his annual ‘I miss her’ speech every other hour.

And whilst typically Jisung loved to spend every passing minute of the day with you; right now, all he could think about was how much he wanted to be balls deep in the cunt he’d missed so much — not spending his time in some arcade.

"I haven't been inside one of these since I was a little kid," you tell him. “Please Sungie, just for an hour.” You begin tugging on his hands.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Aren’t we a bit too old to be playing in the arcade?” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Pretty please!”

You hope the small flutter in your eyelashes is enough to win over the hesitant man. And you know it will because he’s told you several times not to give him those signature doe eyes, because he can’t ever bring himself to say no to them.

"Fine."

He grasps your hand, threading your fingers together as he starts to lead the two of you inside. You're instantly greeted with the loud electronic sound effects from the various games, along with the random music playing inside.

There's lights flashing everywhere, and you notice a bunch of people sitting at the bar and in booths near the front of the arcade, along with a bunch wandering around all of the games.

Jisung looks sideways before gesturing his head to the row of retro games, "what do you wanna play?" He asks.

“You can pick first, because I’m such a good girlfriend.”

He can’t help but smile at you — because he knows you're right.

“How about we play some pinball?

"I take it back," you say with a pointed look, "I’ve seen you play that with Chenle and I’m definitely gonna lose.”

“Too late, you’ve already given me the power,” he shrugs and pulls your arm over to where the game is situated.

“Ugh, Jisung. There’s no point, I already know I’m gonna lose,” you try to protest.

“Stop complaining,” he grasps your hips to turn you around to face the pinball machine then comes to stand behind you.

He takes your hands and places them on the buttons either side of the machine in front of you. You feel your cheeks flush when you feel Jisung’s chin rest on your shoulder, as he guides your fingers over the controls and silently coaches you through the game.

You don’t know how he always does it but even here, he's managing to create some form of sexual tension between the two of you at a pinball machine.

“Jisung..” you whisper as he places teasing kisses along your neck.

“Shhh, I’m just trying to help you out,” his lips brush against your neck as he continues hitting the buttons at a constant steady speed. “Besides, I think I’ve found my new favourite way to play pinball tonight."

Eventually, the ball shoots straight down between the two flippers, drawing the game to an end. He’d been doing so well that you wanted to turn around and kiss him but he pressed you harder against the machine, dipping into the crook of your neck to tease your ear.

"You've got no idea how badly I wish I could bend you over this and fuck you right here, right now."

It sent shivers down your whole body as you felt him grin against your skin when he noticed the sharp inhale of air you sucked in at his words.

Jisung knows you're shy, so he’s not surprised that you try to snake away from his grip at his crude remark.

"Look, we got a new high score," he says while he slips his hands from over yours and slides them up your arms. Pretending he didn't just whisper something that dirty. “We make a pretty good team.”

“Yeah ‘cause you did all the work,” you sulk.

You see the red digital writing flashing on the scoreboard, then his arms snake around to link across your lower stomach and pull you firmer against him. To anyone watching you look like a typical couple being affectionate, but the tension makes it feel the furthest thing from innocent.

"You know exactly what you're doing right now, Jisung Park," you huff, trying to control how flustered you feel, "We’re here to play games."

He presses a kiss to your cheek, before murmuring, "I am playing games. And so far I think I'm winning."

As he speaks he lets one of his hands slip down to graze over the front of your crotch, which he swears is an accident when you sternly say his name. But you can’t deny the way the touch made you jolt before he pulls away and steps back. You’d missed his touch — missed being with him like this.

But this was not the place. So you take his hand and turn the two of you to walk off like nothing happened.

The two of you continued to play a handful of arcade games. The classics, retro games, new games — Jisung had even managed to secure you a fluffy teddy bear from the claw game after you mentioned it being ‘impossible’.

You’d been taking it in turns to choose a game each, but when you mentioned the arcade photo booth, your boyfriend had started to get apprehensive.

After some of your amazing buttering up skills with puppy dog eyes, he agreed and he pulled the curtain back for you to get inside, then closes the door on the booth.

He sat down first on the small seat, and when you went to sit next to him he grabbed your waist and pulled you down onto his lap instead. He takes some coins from his pocket and starts putting them in the slot.

You try to get off his lap to sit beside him before the timer starts but he doesn’t let you.

“Just look at the camera and smile."

Once you hear the timer counting down the two of you start posing. But just before the last beep sounds, you get the idea to grab hold of Jisung’s face and let your lips mush against his cheek causing him to scrunch his nose up.

"That’s not fair," he says the second he hears the beeping start again.You stick your tongue out at him and his eyes narrow. “Fine, if that’s the game we’re playing.”

You both look back at the camera and offer smiles, kisses and peace signs. But at the last beep, Jisung gets the idea to move both of his hands to cup over your chest, groping your boobs.

Your mouth falls open as you gasp in shock while Jisung starts laughing.

You try to pull his hands away, "Okay fine, point taken mister grabby hands."

Jisung is practically giggling to himself, whilst you wait for the timer to start again.

“Alright alright, we'll take a serious one now.” He says, placing his chin on your shoulder, as you both look at the camera.

But once again, as the third beeping starts he quickly says, “Do you think people would notice if I made you cum while we're in here?"

Your body stiffens in shock as the picture is taken. Jisung is bursting with laughter and you're taken aback.

Jisung likes sex. He loves sex in fact — especially with you. But he never does this. Sure he teases you when you're out and about — how could he not when you’re so beautiful and perfect for him. But he’s never insinuated doing something so sexual in public like this before.

But here the two of you are. Waiting for the timer to start again, but this time you’re anticipating the shit he was going to pull when the final beep comes — and he does not disappoint. Because his hands slide up your legs, dipping into your inner thighs and squeezing them.

"Jisung," you warn him, "behave yourself."

The beeping starts again, but Jisung doesn't move his hands, and starts to massage his fingers higher.

When the last tick happens, he moves his face to press a kiss to your jaw, and you feel his breath hitting your skin from his nose.

He starts to inch your legs a bit further apart to let his thumbs graze over the crease where your thighs meet your pelvis.

“Ive missed you so fucking much baby,” he whines. “I need you so bad.”

“Jisung not here,” you sigh as his hands start working to warm up your skin.

“Why not? Wouldn’t you like the thought of me getting you off in here? Trying not to get caught?"

If his face wasn't so close to yours you wouldn't be able to hear him over the loud music in the arcade and how low his voice has gotten.

You give him a confused frown, thinking he surely can't be fucking serious but when you do he takes the opportunity to press his lips against you, kissing you while the camera snaps the last picture.

Your stomach is knotting along with your heart beating faster and you feel that familiar heat between your legs but you’d never tell him that — and he’d never tell you that he knows you keep it from him.

"Would you?" He asks again when he breaks the kiss.

You look at him like he's lost his mind. "You're joking right?" You can't be serious - Jisung people get their pictures taken in here, someone could walk in, you can't-"

He makes your words stop and your breath hitch in your throat as he moves his hand up under your skirt and cups his hand between your legs.

"That's not what I asked you," he says letting his eyes trace over your face, then leans closer, "Would you enjoy it?"

“Jisung, this is so unlike you, are you even hearing what you’re asking me?”

He moves his leg a bit and wedges his heel against the edge of the door so it can't be pulled open, "I know exactly what I’m asking you, so answer me."

"We’re supposed to be taking pictures, Sung,” you try changing the subject, and ignore the pressure of his hand pressed against you.

"Oh god we will," he says like it should be obvious.

And now you’re looking even more caught off guard.

“I'd fucking kill to have some pictures of you getting off. Have them to look at them whenever I’m needy and miss you.”

Jisung starts to massage the heel of his palm very slowly against you, adding more pressure over your underwear as you try to squeeze your legs closed but he holds them with his other hand to keep them apart.

"We can't-" it takes very fibre in your body to attempt to protest this, but you easily allow him to cut you off.

"Yes we fucking can," he has that sly look on his face, "But if you don't want to, we won't. It's up to you. Should I stop?"

You exhale a weak breath as he replaces the heel of his palm with his fingers dancing over your underwear, massaging slow circles that make your hips shift.

"Won’t people think it's weird if we're in here too long." you fumble over your words which makes Jisung smile while he bites on his lip.

"Don't worry I'll be quick," he says knowing you’re only making excuses instead of admitting what you really want.

Your eyes drift closed as you sigh, feeling his fingers move against you to create a friction that's only making the throb between your legs worsen. You have absolutely no common sense when it comes to this man and his fucking fingers.

"Should I stop?" He repeats in a low voice, moving his mouth to start to kiss along your jaw.

As usual with him, your functioning brain checks out while your subconscious takes over and you shake your head feeling your breathing start to go shallow.

"You want me to make you cum, yeah? Is that right baby?" His words are slightly muffled as he moves his free hand from your inner thigh and brushes your hair back over your shoulder so he can move his mouth to your neck, "I need words baby."

You should be rational and tell him to stop. But you don't. You wouldn’t dare. You didn’t want him to. So instead you say what you do want, and breathe out a quiet "yes."

Jisung’s own breathing is getting heavier, and the tension in this small enclosed space feels like it's compressing both of you closer together. When he hears your approval, his hand between your legs bunches up the front of your skirt. When he slips it up he snakes his hand over your stomach to push down into your underwear.

A faint groan echoes in Jisung’s throat the second his fingers feel your bare skin, exploring around your underwear to feel the slickness there.

"You’ve made a mess. Missed me this much, huh?” his voice is low, while he drags his warm lips up your neck.

You only manage to nod your head, your brain focused on squirming your hips to find some kind of friction again. He finally rests the pads of his fingers against your throbbing clit, starting to tease circles that force a quiet whimper out of you. Your eyes are still closed as excitement and neediness flood your nerves.

For doing something that should be wrong, it feels so damn right, and it's all you can think of. Feeling him is all you can think about.

"You sure I can take some pictures?" He checks, keeping his movements steady as your hips start to circle against his hand,

You don't respond at first—you can’t—too caught up in how this is feeling, and when he dips his fingers down to your pussy to collect more arousal on his fingers before moving back to your clit and applying more pressure, your head falls forward as you pant out a strained, "You - fuck, yes, you can."

He chuckles hearing how fucked out you are for him, and he’s only just started. But it’s when you hold onto the thigh he’s been using to pry your legs open that his eyes darken with need.

He keeps his fingers moving while he manages to get some coins he had in his pocket, reaching forward to put them into the coin slot, then pressing the button to start the timer.

When he relaxes back he applies a firmer pressure, and starts to massage your clit in quicker circles; making your mouth drop open with a gasped moan. You can barely hear the beep for the picture anymore, everything around you turning blurry, and all you can hear is your heart beat mixed your heavy breathing.

"That's it baby," he coos, with a gravel to his voice from the tension in it, "God I wish I could fuck you right now. I’ve been dying for it.”

Your skin is burning up, and all you can manage in response is the pants from your open mouth, desperately trying to keep yourself quiet.

You start to grind yourself against him as his fingers work, and feel the hard bulge forming in his pants underneath your ass.

He wasn't kidding when he said he'd be quick, he's already building the pressure in your lower belly, making your stomach muscles tighten, while he moves his fingers in the exact way he knows you love it.

That knot in your lower half tightens, and your legs start to tremble as a louder moan you can't stop comes out of your mouth.

"Fuck—Jisung," you whimper, with your chest starting to heave with rapid uneven breaths.

He only quickens his fingers driving with determination and speed, making sure to keep repeating the same movements that are getting the best reactions from you and when your head falls back as you moan again; his free hand comes up to cover your mouth.

"Shhhh—quiet, remember?" He hushes against your ear, groaning at the feeling of you grinding against him, "I know you wanna cum baby, but there’s no way I’m letting anyone else hear how you sound for me.”

All you can manage is a muffled "mhm" against his hand as your eyes squeeze tighter. That familiar sensation starts to ripple from your centre down your legs and into the rest of your limbs.

The orgasm is speeding towards you, faster than anticipated causing your back to arch up as your hips writhe. Your mind is foggy only able to make out quiet whispers of encouragement coming from Jisung.

As the release ripples through your body and your moans are muted against his hand, Jisung groans again, feeling you shake on top of him. He can’t help but snap his hand away to grasp at your jaw to turn your face and kiss you hard while you ride through your climax.

The kiss is mostly open lips grazing against each other, or trying to connect in messy motions with both of your laboured breathing mixing together. His fingers only pause when you try to pull yourself away from them.

Once your eyes drift open to see Jisung’s, the look in them makes you want to squeeze your legs together again if you could move them currently.

Jisung brings his hand up, and grazes his pointer and middle finger he just used to send your body into a frenzy against your lower lip as a silent request for you to open your mouth. You don’t deny it, taking them into your mouth to taste yourself.

“Fucking hell,” his eyes dart back and forth from your eyes to your mouth. His head rolls back against the wall behind you and he whines in the quiet, "God fucking help me."

Your body is still buzzing, floating down dazed from the high it was on, and you watch Jisung bite down on his lower lip as his brows knit tight together, as his hips shift beneath you.

"Everything okay, Sungie?" It’s the only thing your mushed brain can think of saying as you look down at his strained pants.

"Fuck no," he mumbles, looking like he's trying to compose himself, "But it’s my own fault. I suggested we do this. I’ll deal with myself later.”

"Later?" You ask.

Jisung lifts his head back up, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek as he rubs his palm up and down your thigh, "Yeah, later. When we get home and we watch that movie you promised me.”

He thinks you don’t know that he uses the movie thing as a code to fuck you — but you do know — and that’s why you’ve never protested when he puts on another one of those Harry Potter movies he loves.

"You sure you'll be able to wait that long?"

Jisung’s lips lift up at the corners, "I’ve waited weeks for this, I’m sure I can manage a couple more hours.”

He hugs you against him with his arms around your stomach, and back against his firm chest.

"But then again,” he begins “Now I have the memory of how fucking hot watching you get off in here was. That makes waiting like some kind of sick torture to me."

You let out a weak laugh, feeling your cheeks flush more than they already were, "I still can't believe we just did this."

"I can, and there's pictures to prove it," he smiles, pulling the strip of three black and white photos from the dispenser.

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 [𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: Aventurine x dealer!fem!reader

Warnings: gambling, sexual tension.

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq I'm just starting my blog on Boosty, but I'll be glad if you support me with a subscription and read the full NSFW version of this work there. Soon there will be other works that will not be published on Tumblr.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. VIVIZ — MANIAC

You have long heard from other casino employees about a certain visitor, which comes here quite often, but you have never been lucky enough to meet him until today. The girls sighed languidly, referring to him as a handsome man, preparing to serve him the best drink, for which he would pay generously, and the men working in security only irritably noted that if he visited the institution today, they would only have more work. Then you didn't pay any attention to their words until one of the bar staff squealed with delight, energetically pointing at the blond man who entered the hall.

A dazzling smile, a light gait, but a sly look hidden behind gold glasses, gliding across the tables and the employees standing behind them before playfully sparkling violet-blue eyes rest on you. Your back straightens reflexively, and your fingers wrap around the back of your hand, and you nod in greeting when several men, led by a blond man, approach your poker table. You have been working in the field of gambling for several years, so you can easily notice expensive watches, chains and rings on his hands and a long earring in the ear of an elegant man in a hat, dressed in a black jacket with a fur collar, a turquoise shirt with a small but provocative neckline on the chest and white trousers with patent leather shoes. In total, all the clothes and trinkets of this person can be compared to the cost of your life. Winning will not matter to him, as losing will not greatly affect the quality of his life, which means he simply enjoys a sense of excitement and superiority, since, according to rumors, he plays very well.

«Well…»

— Oh? I haven't seen you before, — the blond man lowers his glasses on the bridge of his nose, smiling slyly at you as soon as you raise your head.

— I'm sorry, sir, today I'm serving you, because the dealer who is more familiar to you is ill, but I assure you, this will not affect the quality of the time spent in our institution in any way, — you kindly answer with a calm expression on your face, which causes the blonde to chuckle softly.

— How official! Relax, honey, — the man leans lower, slightly tilting his head to one side, carefully watching how the expression on your face changes to a more tense one. — It's a pity that… Oh, what was her name? — the blonde pulls away, thinking for a second, trying to remember the name of your colleague, but in the end only sighs briefly, spreading his hands. — It doesn't matter. You've been brought up to date, that we're going to need a separate room, haven't you?

— Yes, sir. Please follow me.

An unpleasant person. It was clear from afar that it was better to stay as far away from him as possible. These vibes of nauseating self-confidence and narcissism definitely don't bode well, but you still humbly do your duty, pulling on a smile and letting the guests into the VIP-room. Usually this room is rented by companies of influential people whose names are so well known to everyone that such guests don't even bother to introduce themselves, because you always know who they are, but these men… You're seeing them for the first time.

Anyway, a job is a job.

— Have a seat, dear guests. Would you like to see the bar menu?

Men in suits silently take their seats, and only an energetic blonde immediately responds to the sound of your voice, standing in front of the last empty chair.

— We'll order the same as usual,— the stranger says sweetly, spreading into a frighteningly sweet smile that sends chills down my spine.

— I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't know…

— Oh, how could I forget! — the blond man clasps his hands in a gesture of apology. — Whiskey on the rocks.

His theatricality is a little annoying, but that's none of your business.

— As you wish, sir.

The female silhouette peeking out from behind the slightly open door and instantly disappearing after the blonde's words only made your task easier, allowing you not to even leave the room. It seems that this man is really very popular among girls, which, in principle, isn't surprising. A pretty face, a thick purse and a sugary voice, like a demeanor, are the pillars that support the classic image of a heartthrob in the eyes of any woman. It would be fascinating if you hadn't met such people before. This place is teeming with both men and women, sometimes even reasonably believing that the whole world belongs to them. Perhaps you would have bought into his charisma too, if you were as frivolous as a bar employee rushing into a room no more than five minutes after the order was placed.

— Thank you, dear. As always, you help out, otherwise my friends seem to be out of sorts today, — the blond man chuckles melodiously, looking at the other five guests. You can almost see in their stern looks the desire to strangle this talkative flatterer, and you can't help but chuckle to yourself.

— Anything for our beloved visitor! Have a nice game, — your friend blushes, smiling shyly before leaving the room, barely restraining a satisfied squeak.

You modestly clear your throat, drawing the attention of everyone at the table to yourself.

— Well, gentlemen, shall we begin?

You leave the button* in front of the blond man sitting first on your left hand. Early* is the most unfavorable position to start the game, but he should have known about it when he sat down here, or is it just an accident?

After the preflop*, while you were deftly shuffling the deck in your hands, someone had already started emptying their glass of whiskey, someone took out a pair of fragrant chocolate cigars. The blonde just watched carefully how skillfully you dealt the cards, not missing a single movement of your fingers. For a second, you even doubted that he didn't trust the new dealer, but every time you dared to look at him, his lips stretched into an even more sugary smile, and his eyes always found yours. Is he trying to get you into the same emotions as the silly waitresses? You wonder how soon he'll lose interest in your indifferent face?

The game went on quite calmly until three people remained at the table, including a smiling blond man.

— Ace of hearts, two of spades, jack of hearts, ten of clubs, two of hearts. The bets are made, you can open, — you say in a monotone voice, glancing at the cards on the table that turn over one by one.

«Street? Not bad…» — you stop looking at the blond's cards before you hear a thud on the table. After looking at the other hands it became clear that there is nothing on the table stronger than two pairs.

— Oh, don't get mad! We've just started, — the blond man raises his hands in an innocent gesture, chuckling softly, it seems, making the man opposite even angrier.

It seems that now you understand a little what the casino guards were so unhappy about, but the more games passed, the more sad the blonde's position became. The empty glasses were hastily replaced with newly filled ones with a new portion of whiskey, and the concentration of smoke in the small room became more and more suffocating, it seems, only exposing the undisguised glee of the men at the table, allowing themselves to mock the blonde, who was catastrophically unlucky today. A flush* against a royal flush, a pair against a square* and, in the end, his hand could only boast of the highest card*. What a disappointment.

— Here, order yourself one more whiskey, — one of the departing men casually tossed a couple of chips in front of the blond man sprawled on a chair, grinning hoarsely before staggering slightly out of the room after the other four, whose loud voices disappeared into the noise of the casino outside the door.

— Sure, — the man who remained at the table smiled gently at the departing acquaintance before taking a sip from his glass.

You wanted to say something, maybe even encourage him, but it's not your way to mind your own business, so you just silently gathered the cards from the table, about to ask the guest to leave the room, when suddenly he spoke first.

— That's not what you expected, is it? — you turn to the blond man, who is resting his head on his own palm. The same strange smile is still playing on his lips, even despite how much money he left at this institution today. He's really weird.

— I don't know what you mean. I don't know how you play, so I couldn't even try to predict the outcome of the game.

— Come on. You know how I play. That girl from the bar told you about me, didn't she?

Annoy.

— Even so, I'm not used to trust rumors, — you reply indifferently, carefully putting the cards back in the box.

— In that case, now you can conclude that I'm a lousy player? Oh, that would be unfortunate, because everyone has unlucky days.

— I don't think it's about luck, — you wanted to say that someone should just drink less and make less risky bets, but you restrained yourself, maintaining professionalism.

— Ho-oh? Then what is it? — the blond man perked up even more, waiting curiously for your answer.

— It is not appropriate for me to give advice to visitors, because my earnings, among other things, depend on them.

— That's how it is! So I was wrong when I decided that you weren't like the other girls looking at my wallet?

— It turns out that it is. But I'm looking at the wallets of every potentially profitable player for me, — you shrug your shoulders. — And now, if you'll excuse me, you should leave the room, since the game is over.

— How pragmatic, you remind me of someone I know, — the blond man, as if he hadn't heard your last words, gets up from his chair, coming closer. — So you don't believe in luck, huh?

The man leans slightly forward, looking into your eyes from under the half-lowered glasses on the bridge of his nose. The expensive sweet fragrance of the perfume instantly cuts into your nostrils, and you take a small step back.

— It's absurdly to rely only on luck in poker. That's all I wanted to say.

— Hm-m … — the blond man pretends to think. — You're right. Then what about roulette?

— Even roulette has its own patterns, but if we don't go into details, of course, this game revolves exclusively around chance.

— Great! Then can we play? — the man turns towards the roulette table, which has apparently not been used for a long time, in the corner of the room.

— I'm afraid my shift is already over… — you frown, even before you finish, he interrupts you.

— Oh, I was so catastrophically unlucky today that I just want to win back at least another game, otherwise I won't be able to sleep peacefully tonight… Are you really that heartless?

— You can use the services of a croupier and play roulette in the hall.

— It would be sad, because I already liked you, — the blonde smiles, looking into your eyes again.

— If you're trying to flirt with me like that, then I'm in a hurry to upset you — it won't work, — you reply irritably, about to leave, when suddenly a weak grip on your wrist stops you.

— I'm sad to hear that, but what if I make a bet?

You turn around, batting your eyelashes in puzzlement when you meet the sharp gaze of a man's violet-blue eyes.

— You can't play roulette without betting, what's the point of all this?

— Let's say… if my bet plays out, you owe me a kiss, what do you say?

You almost boil with anger, looking at this personification of self-confidence standing in front of you.

— I'm not going to play your games, let go of my hand.

The attempt to pull back your hand was unsuccessful, on the contrary, only forcing the blond to pull you closer.

— It seems that luck isn't on my side today, so if I lose, I'll just leave.

The desire to just slap him in the face is almost impossible to ignore, but you wouldn't be working here if you weren't a gambling person too. Your lips stretch into an arrogant smile as you approach the blond man's face, slightly squinting your eyes.

— In that case, on what number* will you put it on?

The blond man's eyebrows rise, after which a ringing laugh is heard in the room.

— I knew you could entertain me! — the man lets go of your hand, but does not take a step away from you before saying softly. — I'm betting on zero.

«He's crazy!»

You almost laughed at how crazy his bet turned out to be, but it sounds like he's already agreed to leave you alone, so you just smiled, silently retreating to the corner of the dimly lit room. The table has indeed not been used for a long time, having already become covered with a layer of dust, but you take a small ball, gently rolling it in your hand before turning towards the blond man who remains standing at the poker table. He doesn't seem to care at all that he's going to lose now, and the smile doesn't leave his face for a second. It will be all the sweeter to see how the expression on his face will change when he loses.

— Your bet is accepted, — you say loudly before spinning the roulette wheel by throwing a ball at it.

The man doesn't even look at the spinning roulette wheel, instead watching your eyes follow the ball as it slides across the sectors.

12, 35, 3, 26, and finally….

— It can't be… — you whisper, eyes wide open and just looking at how the ball stopped at zero.

— Ho-oh? What's is it? Judging by your reaction, did I win? — the blond man grins, slowly removing his hat from his head and leaving the hat on the edge of the poker table.

This can't be happening. Betting on numbers is always a huge risk, because the chance that the ball will stop at the chosen one is incredibly small. Was he… really just lucky?

You purse your lips, summoning all the self-control you have to turn to the man with an indifferent expression on your face.

— That's right, congratulations on winning, sir.

— M-m… it's not just a win, you remember the conditions, right? — the blond man says playfully, slowly walking towards you, until finally he towers over you, elegantly ripping the glasses off his face.

«This jerk has probably been rehearsing this for years…»

— I didn't have to accept such bets at all, — you mutter irritably.

— I understand your disappointment, but still, you accepted it. Be kind enough to hand me my prize, — you look into the extraordinarily beautiful eyes of a man, trying your best to deny how really attractive he looks without glasses and a hat.

— Ahem… okay. But can I at least get your name? I wouldn't want to kiss a complete stranger.

— Huh? So you don't know who I am? How cute, — the blond man squints, breaking into a smile. — You can call me Aventurine. And you… — the man hooks the badge on your chest with the tip of his finger. — Y/N.

Where have all your old composure gone? They probably got lost somewhere in the midst of this madness, which for some reason you signed up for, following your own excitement. Self-confidence is just as much your enemy as Aventurine, only in this case he is elated with victory, and you are trying to collect your thoughts in order to fulfill the conditions of the game he started.

— Excuse me… — you mumble awkwardly before pressing your lips to the man's cheek, leaving as quick a kiss as possible to hastily turn away, hiding the blush that has appeared on your face.

— Hey! And what was that? — Aventurine says in disappointment, touching the place of your kiss with the tips of his black-gloved fingers.

— You asked for a kiss, but didn't specify which one, — you try to sound confident, but still mentally berate yourself for not being able to look into his eyes right now.

— Oh… — the blond man sighs heavily, pulling away and approaching the roulette table. — I'm not satisfied with such a victory. Let's do it again.

— Huh?! — you cry out indignantly, looking at the back of the impudent man rolling the ball around the zero sector. — I shouldn't be here at all, and neither should you!

— I'm betting on zero again.

You freeze, raising an eyebrow when you turn to Aventurine.

— You're going to lose.

— Maybe, — the man shrugs, turning to face you and leaning on the edge of the table. — But if the bet plays out again, you'll give me a real long kiss.

— I'm not going to waste my time on this madness. The chances of hitting zero a second time are so small that it's easier for you to just leave this room right now, since it's simply impossible to play this bet.

— Let it be so. You don't lose anything if you're so sure of my defeat, do you? Besides, didn't you say that you don't give advice to the players?

It annoys you how logical his words sound. But what's even more annoying is that you really doubt it. It's just not possible. You have to show this arrogant idiot his place.

— Okay, — and here you go back to the roulette table again. — But if you lose, you will never return to this casino again.

Aventurine's purple eyes widen before flashing a gambling spark.

— And you know how to make the game more interesting, — the man grins, picking up the ball from the table, carefully leaving it in your hand. — I agree.

This will be the craziest bet anyone has ever made in the entire existence of this casino. And it only fuels your interest too. You spin the wheel in anticipation by throwing the ball. Your heart is pounding in your chest, as if your own life is at stake. It's been a long time since you've experienced such adrenaline, no matter how absurd what's happening, because it's worth it to win…

— Ha-ha! It seems that today is really my day, — Aventurine grins as the ball slowly rolls and stops at sector zero. Again. — The money I lost in poker was worth spending all my luck on such a tempting prize.

Impossible. He just did the impossible. What were the chances? The mind is so devastated by shock that you can't even approximate the probability, just silently looking at the green sector in amazement.

— You're not… cheating, are you? — you're almost whispering, without opening your eyes from the little ball.

— What cruel accusations! How, tell me, could I cheat at roulette? — the man clicks his tongue in frustration, slowly wrapping his arm around your waist before pulling your body towards his. — If these are just assumptions without any evidence, I think it's time to start awarding the second prize.

The lips open, releasing a soft sigh into the air. You feel the warmth emanating from his body, the smell that his nauseatingly expensive clothes exude, and you feel his measured breathing on the skin of your face when Aventurine bends down, almost touching his lips to yours and freezes.

— I'll make it easier for you this time, — the blond whispers, letting his warm breath caress the delicate skin of your lips.

— What do you mean?.. — the only thing you managed to say right before Aventurine's lips covered yours.

Long fingers dive into your hair, forcing you to tilt your head back, and he deepens the kiss, insistently making his way with his tongue through your lips, which are not too resisting. A soft moan dissolves in Aventurine's mouth, and your fingers desperately cling to the fabric of the shirt on the man's chest, but still you respond to the kiss, allowing your tongue to stick out a little further, slowly waltzing in tandem with his. The shock was instantly replaced by a mixture of embarrassment and a flutter in his chest. It seemed that this kiss lasted forever, so harmonious, gentle, but passionate, as if you have known each other for so long that Aventurine doesn't need much effort to make you melt in his hands, which you allow to touch your body.

Lips gasp for air as soon as Aventurine pulls away, looking at your flushed, relaxed face, which isn't touched by the former cold indifference with which you looked at him all evening.

It's a strange feeling. From the very beginning, when you saw this man, the only thought that you would never in your life become infatuated with just his presence somewhere nearby was ingrained in your head, now fighting for supremacy with the unwillingness that he would let you go. You shouldn't give in to this.

You gently press on Aventurine's chest, shuddering as soon as you feel his warm skin under your fingertips, noticing that you touched this very seductive neckline.

— Is that all? I have to go… — you say softly, trying to get out of Aventurine's hands, but he's not even going to let go of your waist or your cheek, to which his palm is still pressed.

— Really? Well, then I won't hold you back, — the blond man grins, still continuing to prevent your imaginary escape.

— Then let me go. I gave away your winnings and I don't owe you anything else.

— Yes, you did, — the man whispers, gently stroking your cheek with a thumb in a leather glove.

You look at each other without saying a word and freeze like statues. The muffled sounds of slot machines, clinking glasses and laughter come from the hall outside the door, breaking the silence that hangs between the two of you, but you can't hear anything else except your own rapid heartbeat throbbing in your ears. A strange warmth spreads in your chest, gradually sinking down, and a heavy weakness settles in your legs, which doesn't allow you to move from your place.

«What are you doing, Y/N?», — you ask yourself one last time before you swear unintelligibly under your breath, grabbing Aventurine's shirt in order to involve the man in the kiss again. Greedy, careless, but you needed it. The blonde's palm shamelessly moves to your buttocks, covered with black trousers, gently squeezing the elastic flesh, and your fingers slowly slip under the neckline in the shape of an inverted heart, caressing the heated skin of Aventurine's chest.

— W-wait… — you suddenly break off the kiss, breathing heavily and looking at the purple irises covered with long eyelashes.

— What's is it? I won't complain that the dealer is harassing me if you're worried about it, — Aventurine grins, forcing the expression on your face to change to the old irritation.

— This is wrong. I don't have to…

— I don't care about the rules, — the man tilts his head to one side, smiling playfully. — I'm betting on black.

— What? — you ask discouraged, watching the man's fingers hastily undoing the buttons of your white shirt.

— If I win, now you'll be my prize, — Aventurine winks at you before opening the cotton fabric on your chest, noticing you are wearing a black lace bra. — Tsk-tsk, how unlucky you are today. I won again.

✧ ✧ ✧

The button is a special chip marked "D", transmitted clockwise and identifying the dealer (in this case, the dealer is an employee of the casino, so the button only determines who will bet first).

The early position is the player's place at the poker table, located immediately behind the dealer.

Preflop is the initial stage of the poker game, which includes the distribution of cards and the first bets, including blinds.

A straight is a combination of a sequence of five cards.

A hand is a combination of two cards in the player's hands.

A flash combination of five cards of the same suit.

Royal flush is the strongest combination of cards from 10 to ace of the same suit.

A pair is a combination of two cards of the same value (for example, two aces).

A square is a combination of five cards of the same value (for example, four aces).

The highest card is the card of the highest value of all lying on the table.

In roulette, it is possible to bet on one color, on even and odd numbers, and so on, including you can bet on a specific number, which is quite risky due to the reduced chances that such a bet will play, but the winnings from it are multiplied by 35.

[lis-likes-fics]

Antidote

Pairing(s): Coriolanus Snow x Reader, Original Character x Reader Word Count: 15.6k words Warnings: NSFW, smut at the beginning, swearing, mentions of death and murder, Coriolanus Snow is not a good person... A/N: This is part two to Poison. I didn't think it would take so long to write this, and this is only half of what I intended for this part. Now that I have a third part to do, I don't know when it'll be out by but it'll definitely be...a lot to process, me thinks. But anyway, I hope you enjoy this very not happy chapter! Thank you and enjoy!

PART ONE: The Discovery

You're startled awake by a knock at the door. You sit up with a groan, rubbing your eyes as you move quickly to wake up.

You mumble something, a groggy “mm” that tells the person at the door to come in. It's not Coryo. He would have just walked in.

“Charlotta?”

She bows her head briefly as she enters the room. You glance out of the window, confusion and the faintest feeling of panic edging your nerves at how bright it is.

“Sorry to disturb you, ma'am,” she says, and you notice the slightest confusion in her face as she speaks, “but Master Snow has requested your presence.”

You throw your legs over the side of the bed, stretching your arms out wide. “What time is it?”

“Half past nine, ma'am.”

A wash of ice shocks your skin to the bone. You bolt up in an instant, moving so quickly that you make yourself dizzy as you start sifting through your wardrobe for clothes.

Your panic is evident, and she completely understands as she watches you scramble. Like clockwork, you are up every morning at six—hardly an hour after all the servants have woken—to prepare for Snow. Because, like clockwork, he wakes at seven to begin his day with breakfast and you. You're never late. Never.

“How did I sleep this late?” you wonder aloud, snatching a pair of clothes from the closet and rushing to the bathroom.

“Not sure,” Charlotta shrugs as she steps further into the room, beginning to change the sheets from your bed as you get ready. “I came to wake you at your normal time, but you must've fallen asleep again.”

“Shit,” you curse as you shove your toothbrush in your mouth. Your words are garbled in your mouth as you speak through it. “Thank you, Charlotta. Please tell him I'm on my way.”

She nods, gathering the sheets in her arms. “Of course, ma’am.”

As you glance off at the clock on the wall, you grimace as you turn slowly back to her. She probably has a million other things to do but… “Actually,” you sigh, “I'm sorry to ask, but could you help me dress? It will go quicker.”

You're truly grateful for Charlotta. She's one of the only people you know from this godforsaken Capitol who's never given you a hard time.

“Of course,” she says with no quarrel. You thank her quickly as she makes her way over, discarding the sheets on the floor to deal with after.

Together, you're ready in five minutes. You rush to the kitchen and living quarters, retrieving his tray of tea and cakes and this morning's newspaper. You're in the middle of shoving your planner under your arm as you scarf down a cookie to stave off some of your hunger.

When you arrive at his study, you take a steadying breath and check the time. Barely over ten minutes. Not bad.

You let yourself in, not bothering with the door. There's nothing you're not privy to already. If you can't have your privacy from Coryo, he can't have it from you (unless it's an order, but that hardly ever happens).

He doesn't look up from the papers on his desk. As he writes something down, he mutters under his breath. “You're late,” he says.

“I'm sorry, Coryo,” you quickly reply. As you set his new tea tray on his desk, you pick up the old one to set it next to the door to be taken. “I overslept.”

He looks up at you, raising a brow. “You never oversleep.”

You move to stand in front of his desk, holding your planner in your arm. “I know. I'm sorry.”

Coryo looks you up and down, hums, and returns to his writing. “I need you to run these to my office and schedule my appointments for next week. The calendar should be there with the–”

“The stack of requests in the bottom drawer. Yes, sir.” You nod dutifully, scrawling your own notes in your planner.

Unphased by your readiness, he continues. “Yes,” he points a pen at you, “also, there's this creature bugging me. Go handle that, please?”

“Radley Flynn?”

“That's the one.”

You nod. “He's done.”

He hums. “And…” an exasperated sigh leaves him, “Tigris finished the outfits for the big conference next week. If she offers tea, you may have tea, but no fraternizing.” He turns back to his papers. He mutters the last part under his breath. “She's been a bit of a pain lately.”

“Yes, Coryo.”

Coriolanus is quite proud of himself. At the beginning of your employment, you were a bit of a rowdy creature he had to learn to control. The lessons you had to be taught took a while for you to learn, but now that you have, life is so effortless at times. You know your job, your place. You respond as needed, you do as you're told. You're a perfect assistant, a perfect pet. He often finds himself priding his decision to keep you those years ago.

“Before you leave…” He stands, making his way over to you as you watch him move. You're unflinching as he does, standing before you as he presses his thumb over your chin. “You left me unattended this morning.”

“I know,” you nearly whisper, staring up at him in this almost pathetic nature. “I'm sorry.”

Coryo’s hold on you is a persistent kind of tie.

When you imagine a person holding a leash on someone else, it's so easy to imagine a silver chain wrapped around one's neck. It's this tangible thing you can see in your mind’s eyes. Even you can imagine it—Coriolanus Snow with a chain encircling his wrist, yanking tightly to have you falling at his feet.

But that's not what this is.

Your chain, even in the mind, is invisible. It's worse than invisible, it's entirely imaginary. You make up this illusion of a leash to make yourself feel better about bowing to his feet and showering him in your obedience.

You're at the point where your obedience has given you a freedom that makes it easy to escape. At any point, you could escape. As long as you never stop moving, Coriolanus Snow would be a thing ever behind you.

But you've found, silently and unconsciously, that you have become comfortable here.

You have no say in politics, so you're free of the burden of speaking against the injustices of the Capitol (as deeply as you wish to speak against them). You have no possession that is truly yours, so you have no material ties to keep you restrained. You have only one true sentimental tie, as only one true person has a sentimental tie to you, but they have enough power to keep you from having the responsibility to protect them.

In terms of liberation from duty and morality, you are free. And only Coryo can give you that kind of freedom. It is a bitter draught, but you drink it anyway because it is easier than crafting your own wine.

The slightest smirk amuses his lips as he shakes his head. “Don't be sorry,” he brushes your chin, pulling it down just enough to see your bottom teeth. “Just make it up.”

His other hand raises and he brushes his fingers over the swell of your breasts. He pinches your nipples between two knuckles and the smallest gasp interrupts your breaths at the tenderness he finds.

He tilts his head, furrowing his brows. “What's wrong with you?”

You shake your head, raising a hand to grasp him gently. “Nothing,” you say quickly. Offering a smile, you clear your throat. “How do you want me?”

There's a long pause where he thinks to himself, considering your response before deciding to let it go. It's no matter. “Desk.”

“Yes, Coryo.” You do as you're told and sit on the edge of the desk, legs spread and ready to receive him. He likes you like this. Subservient.

He hums as he unbuckles his belt, making his way to you as he situates himself between your thighs. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in close as you hook a leg around his waist. He keeps staring at you, examining the features on your face as he contemplates.

You bring him in, embracing his lips. Your fingers card through the hair at the back of his neck, a gentle tug encouraging him. His tongue licks your bottom lip and his hands roughly grip your thighs as he steps impossibly closer.

One of his hands dips between your legs, sliding under your tight dress and pushing it up to your waist. You moan into the kiss when his fingers graze your clothed heat, spreading wider to allow him the access he demands.

He pulls your panties down your legs and pushes his finger past the seam of your pussy, smiling at the warmth he finds as his lips continue to slide and bite against your own.

It doesn't matter how many times he does this to you, how many times you feel his lips or his fingers or his cock, you never tire of his touch. Your body bends to his every will, and though it scares you sometimes, you're in far too deep to care.

When he’s coaxed you enough and you're nice and ready for him, you sigh when he pushes himself inside of you. You wrap your arms tightly around him, pulling him in close as his mouth finds refuge at your neck.

When he thrusts roughly inside of you, burying his cock deep within your wanting cunt, your eyes flutter as he pulls a heavy moan from your lips.

~

The door opens as you offer a gentle smile to the tall woman you're happy to call your friend. She beams back at you, all white teethed and shiny eyed as she wraps her long arms around you. “Wonderful to see you, dear.”

“Hello, Tigris,” you say softly. As the hug loosens, and she ushers you inside.

“Would you like some tea?” she asks as she pulls you into the living room. You sit gratefully, kicking off your shoes as you soak in the warmth of the home.

“Please,” you reply. Your feet are killing you, you've got a headache, and sitting down on the plush sofa feels like heaven.

She disappears into the kitchen and returns a moment later. “Let me guess,” she smiles as she sets the tray down. “He told you to have tea but no more.”

You take the cup she offers you. “He did,” you take a sip with a happy sigh. “But I would like some tea and some cakes, please.”

She smiles, chuckling lightly as she hands you said cake. “Coming right up.” You take it from her tattooed hands. She's had them a couple months. They're like tiger stripes.

She sips from her own cup, crossing her legs as she sits back. “I won't keep you too long. I know how antsy he gets.”

You hum. “Thanks, Ty.”

There's a tiny clatter in the kitchen but you both dismiss it. It's simply their grandma’am “assisting” the maids with cooking. She hates cooking, none of you know why she bothers.

“How have you been?” Tigris asks gently, looking you over. You look a little tired.

“Besides both my headaches?” She chuckles. “As well as I can.”

Humming, she licks her bottom lip. “I'm glad I chose this tea then. It should soothe you.”

You sigh thankfully, tilting your head and offering your quiet appreciation. “You're an angel.”

Tigris chuckles as she shakes her head. “I don't know about all that?”

The smell that hits your nose just then is strong. Your stomach does flips as the scent has you scrunching your face. “What is she making?”

She chuckles. “Dinner?”

“And what's for dinner?”

“Something with far too much garlic, it smells like.” Tigris laughs lightly and, despite your unease, you join her.

You bring your cup back up to your lips, hoping the gentle scent of the tea will ease your stomach. But it does little to help. You feel nearly lightly, and you close your eyes as the strong garlicky smell has your headache throwing fits.

“Excuse me,” you pardon as you stand, moving quickly toward the bathroom just down the hall. Tigris rushes after you, her brows creased with worry as she goes to your aid.

You make it just in time, bending over the toilet as you heave the tea and cakes you just consumed. It's gross and you hate it, and Tigris does her best to help as she can.

“Are you alright?” she realizes it's a redundant question but she doesn't know what else to ask.

You sit back, standing to your feet with a frustrated sigh to wash your mouth clean. “Yes,” you nod as you finish. “I was just feeling a little ill. I'm okay.”

She shakes her head. She thinks in all the time that you've known one another, you've only been ill once and it was a couple years ago at least, and it wasn't like this. “You need to see a doctor.”

You shake your head. “No, I'm fine.”

“Honey, you do.” She sighs, “You know Coryo hates sickness.”

“I'm not ill.”

“Nevertheless.” She raises a hand to your cheek, worry shining in her eyes as she looks over you. “Promise me you'll see someone.”

You look away from her, sighing as you concede. Your voice is gentle. “I promise.”

She strokes her thumb over your cheek before letting you go. She turns to leave. “I'll get you some medicine, and your clothes.”

You hum, turning to do another rinse as you mutter a “thanks” under your breath.

~

You hate doctors.

After the Games, the passive aggressive treatments, the dismissiveness because you were going to die anyway… you feel like your feelings are validated.

And worse, the last time you had to deal with doctors was when you were ill a few years ago. When he was trying to determine how you could have gotten sick, the first questions he'd asked you were about your sex life and your menstruation. Then he just patted you on the head and told you it was stress. You're plenty stressed but that's certainly not what made you sick.

It's safe to say that you're not confident in their ability to treat you.

But when your migraines persist and you think the smell of garlic is going to kill you, you give in and make a secret appointment with a physician between errands. Besides, Coriolanus is beginning to get suspicious. You've been sore, and it hasn't been from him.

Your name snaps you from your thoughts, and you look up to see who's called you. Your apprehension is clear in your face when you lay eyes on the doctor. He's tall, dark haired, older. You sigh gently as you stand, walking past him and down the hall to his office.

When you're in the shelter and general secrecy of the office, he speaks. “I'm Dr. Lockert. How are you?”

You keep it short and simple as you sit. “Fine.”

He hums, taking a seat in his chair across from you. “And why have you come in today?”

You hesitate before you answer. For a brief moment, you consider standing up and leaving. You just need to try and get more rest, you're sure of it…

But the pain simmering behind your eye is the deciding factor.

“I've been a little sick the past couple of weeks.” You clear your throat. “I was wondering if you could help me.”

He reaches to his desk, retrieving a clipboard as he plucks a pen from his coat pocket. “Describe the sickness?”

You sigh. “I've been really tired. Lots of migraines, nausea…a little bloated?”

He raises a brow, though he doesn't look at you. “Have you been using the toilet a lot?”

“Yes?”

He looks at you then. “When was the last time you had your blood?”

You refrain from reacting, you're good at that. The urge to grind your teeth and roll your eyes, the urge to stand and walk out is strong. As calmly as you can, you lick your lips and explain.

“I'm on contraceptives,” you say, your eyes unyielding as you watch him. “I haven't had mine in years.”

You think, for a moment, that spending so much time with Coriolanus has affected more than your confidence. You're a bit colder now, there's a harsher bite in your eyes that you had tried so hard not to recover from him. You think if Lockert can see it, the reflection of the president in your eyes, and that's why he clears his throat as he tears his eyes from your glare.

“Forgive my bluntness,” he mutters, “have your breasts…become sensitive? Perhaps sore or heavy?”

You're about to leave.

Your words are quick and dismissive. You're giving him ten seconds. “Yes, do you know what it is?”

Lockert removes his glasses, rubbing his forehead and sniffing gently. He looks up at you, and he has two seconds left to answer.

“You may be experiencing the early stages of…” he hesitates, “...of a pregnancy.”

You sigh. “No.”

“No?” He had expected that answer.

You sling your work bag over your shoulder and stand. “No.” He stands as well. There's no astonishment or confusion in your voice. You're thinking straight and clearly, and you're more fed up than anything else. “I can't be pregnant. I've never missed a dose once. My line of work…” you slow, ensuring he understands every word, “does not grant leniency for pregnancy.”

He shrugs. “Even so, contraceptives are not always 100% effective.” That's when your ears start to burn with anxiety, a pit forming at the bottom of your stomach. “All of your symptoms coincide with that of early stage pregnancy.”

You don't know if you should believe him. There are likely a multitude of things that mimic pregnancy symptoms. You're not, and you can't be. You don't know what to say.

“Tell you what,” he says. “If you can give me a urine sample, I can have it tested for you. I should be able to have those results by the end of the day. I'll make it a priority because I know you're busy.”

You nod firmly. “Yes, do that.”

He turns to grab the tools for the sample, making quick work of doing such. You might have been too stern, but you don't have time or patience right now. You're running late enough as it is.

As he turns and hands you the cup, you take it. “Dr. Lockert.”

“Yes?”

“If you tell anyone anything about what happens here…” you lean in close, “I'll ensure your sudden disappearance goes entirely unnoticed.”

He stares wide eyed at you, nodding slowly. You take a step back and nod back at him. “Thank you.”

~

The doctor's words have been weighing on your mind all day. It's been hard to focus with the thought of his diagnosis plaguing you. Around Coryo, you try your best not to show your hesitation but he knows you. He can see it in your eyes, the dread.

When you get that knock at your door later that night, after all your duties, around the house and to your boss, that curling anxiety strikes you again.

You stand and walk toward the door carefully. Charlotta stands on the other side holding a tray at her side.

“Hey,” she says, her voice gentle and hardly above a whisper. “I'm going to point to something in your room. There's an envelope under the tray. It's yours.”

You nod, playing along as you look in the direction she points. You slip the white envelope from its spot in one fluid movement, careful to avoid the cameras in the hall.

When she puts the tray back down, you give her a gentle smile and nod again. You play along.

“A man came to drop this off. He said to be subtle and give it straight to you.”

“Thank you, Charlotta.” You sigh. “You've been really good to me, and it means a lot.”

She smiles, ducking her head a little. “Good night, ma'am.”

You nod. “Good night.”

She leaves you, and you close the door quietly behind her. Turning toward the bed, your heart hammers against your chest as you stare at the letter.

“It's nothing.”

You tear the envelope open in just a few moments. You don't have time to be nervous. When you pull the paper out, you take a breath, and open it.

It's a white hot kind of feeling. It's chilling and stinging all at the same time. You don't know if you need to open a window for the crisp air that lies outside or start your fireplace.

So instead you cry.

You're riddled with gasps as you place a hand over your mouth to silence them. They rack through your chest until you're breaking down onto your bed and fully sobbing. Burying your head in your knees, you let the tears fall with as little control as you can grant them.

It lasts a long time. You don't know if the crying is a result of rejection, a strange sort of acceptance, or plain fear. A little bit of both invades every sense of your being.

You absent-mindedly press a hand to your belly, like you could almost feel the hardly-there being that you hadn't known was growing within you. It aches as it brings forth another round of sobs.

You never really considered the possibility of children, before or after the Games. This world is not suited for children, and after your experience, you never wanted anything so dear to you to ever have to suffer the possibility of facing what you did.

If that wasn't enough, your child was that of Coriolanus Snow's blood. The man was a lot of things, but a father was not among the list. You could not fathom allowing a child to grow under his reign. He was not suited, and you could never allow it to happen. Not without a fight, surely.

Of course, you could get rid of it. You could keep it secret, sneak it right under his nose. Things could go back to normal, like it never happened.

But if he ever found out, he'd probably kill you. A Snow heir? Laid to waste? You cannot hope to take that from him and come off best.

You hadn't many options.

You let a monster raise your baby, or you risk your life by being freed from the burden. Your life had little value to begin with, but you could not imagine the type of creature this child would become.

You don't know what you'll do.

~

PART TWO: The Escape

As the door is pulled open, she is shocked to see you on the other side as she holds tight to her robes.

“Hello, Tigris,” you speak softly, pulling your large hood close to you.

She stumbles on her words as she stares in surprise. “Uh– Hi. Why are you here so late?”

You'd woken her. You can see it in the exhaustion hiding beneath the concern. It makes sense for her to be resting, it's nearly three in the morning. But you had to be sure you were being watched, you had to be sure no one would follow.

“I'm pregnant.” Her breath hitches, and you swallow thickly. “With Coriolanus’ child.”

She struggles to answer at first, blinking quickly as she shakes her head. “What?” After a moment, she seems to remember you're still at the door. She beckons you in. “Come in, come in.”

She stands to the side and sets a hand on your back when you're safely within her home. She closes the door as she brings you into the living room, starting a fire. She asks if you want tea. You decline.

You shed your coat, sitting with your legs pulled close to your person as you stare at the flickering flames she stokes to life When Tigris takes her seat across from you, you silently hand her the letter you'd received from Dr. Lockert. She reads it quickly.

It's a long time before either of you speak, still in shock from all that's happening.

“How do you feel?” She thinks it's a dumb question.

You shrug, wondering that yourself. “Scared. A little excited? Although, I think that may be the nausea. But mostly…” your breath shudders on a sigh, “fucking terrified.”

She sets the paper down on the coffee table and sets a kind hand on your knee. “What are you going to do?”

You don't look at her. It's so hard to look at her when the thoughts in your head are so muddled. There are words piled on words piles on words. So many “this” and “that”s and “wait, but this”. You stare at the fire.

“I don't want my baby…” you sigh, speaking gently, “...growing up with someone like their…their father.” The word honestly stings when you say it, but you say it anyway.

“Back at Seven, the kids who grew up there were hungry and tired… but they smiled and laughed and played, too. They were happy because they had people who loved them, even if they were poor. Here…” you wipe a hand down your face, shaking your head. “Coriolanus isn't capable of real love. I want my child to be happy. I don't want them growing up with all this money and power, but with no heart to know how to use it.”

Tigris sighs silently, looking down at her lap. She lets your words sink in, nodding gently as she whispers. “So you'll run away?”

You finally turn your gaze to see her, speaking slowly. “I have to.”

You don't want to. It's so hard already. And you don't want to leave her behind. She's the only person who's truly cared since the beginning, the only person you've ever been able to confide in.

“You could get caught and worse.”

“I know…”

Tigris unfolds the letter once more, reading the cursive on the page carefully as she thinks to herself. She stands and walks toward the fire, and you watch as she tosses the paper inside. The flames lick at it, catching fire under the strength of its heat as it curls and crumbles.

“Well, you'll need some help.”

You stare up at her, your eyes glistening as she offers her hand. You take it, giving the weakest smile as you pull her into a tight hug.

~

The weeks you spend planning go by far quicker than you thought they would. It's in secret visits with Tigris between errands, subtle meetings with District rogues hiding in the Capitol during parties or public gatherings that were easy to hide in. It was arranging transportation, cover ups, people who can be trusted and people who can't. And to do it all without gathering the suspicions of Coriolanus was a painstaking process.

If he ever found out what you were planning… there would be irreparable damage. For you, for your baby, for anyone involved. The idea is chilling, but not as chilling as staying behind and allowing Coriolanus to raise a tyrant in his stead, if he even accepted the child to begin with…

So when the day comes that you are to flee the Capitol… to leave behind all you've known for the life of a fugitive in the Districts, you swallow your fear and take it.

You take a deep breath as you stand before Coryo’s door. You clutch the tray in your hands and files shoved under your arm, feeling the anxiety pooling in your belly.

If everything goes right, this will be the last time you ever step foot in this office…

“Good morning, sir.”

He doesn't look up from his desk. He's already working—always working. “My flower,” serves as his only greeting as he scribbles away at his work.

You set his tray down, picking up the newspaper and setting it where he likes it: laid out flat at the left of his desk. “I have your breakfast and a few documents that need signing before I go.” You put those in front of his work. “Is there anything you need from me?”

He hums, taking the pages and setting them atop the ones he had been focused on. “Aside from our morning appointments?” He looks up at you with a small grin. “No.”

“Perfect.” Anxiety rolls in your belly. This should be the last time you ever do this…

You know how to feel. The issue is not knowing how you actually feel.

“Where do you want me, Coryo?”

Anyway you want me, baby, that's the way you got me.

You steel your jaw and straighten your spine. As you plaster a smile on your face, you let out a silent breath.

This should be the last time you ever do this… And you feel determined to make that happen.

Coryo’s grin is toxic. You can see that. It spews poison, and you're sick of drowning and letting him sicken you with it.

“Come here,” he bids, turning out of his desk the same way he'd done it that first time: his legs spread, his lips curled, his eyes dark.

You walk toward him, your movements slow and sure as you come to stand between his legs with your hands on his shoulders. His own land on your waist, and it's such a warm feeling. But you can't let him distract you. Or you'll become intoxicated once more.

And it's a slippery slope from there.

He stays silent as he watches you, his hands stroking your sides, pulling you in close. He wraps an arm around you, guiding you to straddle his lap.

Even with his toxicity, you can't deny his beauty. Though that's usually how it goes, isn't it? The prettier the snake, the deadlier the venom.

“You are…absolutely radiant this morning, my darling.”

You almost fall for it. It's hard not to, he knows what honey to pour in your ears.

You're almost sure it's subconscious, the way you lift your hand and brush his pale hair from his face. God, his eyes are so pretty. Baby blue, twinkling with such pretty stars—stars you know are all a farce for the purpose of deceit. He's spent a lot of time crafting them, but you know what they really are.

Snowflakes.

Beauties made of pure perfection…but entirely cold and unfeeling. If you get enough of them, trillions and trillions and trillions on trillions, trillions more than that still…you freeze in the bite of the frost.

And if you stay, you'll turn to ice.

“Thank you, Coryo.” You drop your hand to his chin, tilting his head back just a slight before you lean in to kiss him.

The lust is immediate. There's never been any reason for easing into them. As usual, it's fast, it's biting, it's a game.

Who will break first?

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, grinding your hips into his lap. A light grunt falls from him, but he remains unbeaten. He grabs your hips and moves them himself. He knows your body well, even better than you, and it doesn't surprise you anymore.

His growing erection rubs against your clit, and your breath hitches, though you don't pull away. His hands snake underneath your skirt, pushing it higher and higher up the length of your thighs until he's got you exposed. When he's clawing at your panties, you have to remove them yourself before he does it for you.

By the time his hand is cupping your cunt, you're already wet for him. It's like clockwork. His lips and his fingers and his skin against yours make you so weak, all you can do is comply.

You long for the day where it's not so easy as pressing a button. You long for the day where he can ring a bell, and your mouth won't begin to water…

He slips his fingers past the seam of your lips, and your breath shudders. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in as you nuzzle your face there.

“So wet for me, aren't you?” he purrs. His lips curl, “Such a perfect thing, you are.”

You melt against his praise, so used to the coin toss between his honey sweet words and his hollowing insults.

“All for you,” you whisper into his ear, taking his lobe between your teeth with a gentle tug. You know he likes it. Just as he knows your body, you know his. If he's going to have you melting in his arms, you'll have him melting in yours.

You aren't on the same level, but you can pretend to be.

He thrusts his fingers in and out of you, torturously slow in his movements. Biting down hard on your lips, you fumble with his belt as you make quick work of undoing it all. He's half-hard when you take him in your palm and stroke the length of him, matching his tempo as his breath shudders with yours.

“Such a good girl,” he mumbles, clenching his teeth at the way you flick your wrist. His fingers pick up within you, massaging such a deep part within you as you grind against his hand, begging for more. You return the favor, jerking your fist roughly along him, wanting—needing more and more.

When the lust becomes too much, and you can feel the other's release growing nearer and nearer without the escalation of true sex, he pulls his hands from you and you huff needily. “Fuck,” you stutter out, pausing your own hand as his precum sticks to your thumb.

Coryo bids you to look at him as he dips his finger between his lips, sucking your arousal from them with a cocky spark in his eyes as he hums. You do nothing but kiss him back when he pushes his lips against yours, your movements as rough and as fast as his own. The taste of yourself on his tongue is intoxicating. It has you both moaning into each other's mouths, needing so badly to devour the other.

Coryo grabs your wrist, stopping your hand as you gasp at him. His eyes stay locked on you as he uses your hand to guide the head of his cock to your wet lips. Your eyes flutter when you sink down on him, letting out a long breath as your legs tremble.

Through his puffs, he smiles. “Look at you, so beautiful,” he murmurs.

You lock your arms around his neck, holding him close to you. It’s always good with him, this drunken, numbing feeling he gives you whenever he touches you. You crave it so much that you’ve convinced yourself in your entirety that you need it, him, everything he has to offer. It doesn’t matter how cruel he can be, his poison is a chemical in your brain that tells you it’s always worth it for this.

You roll your hips in his lap as his lips graze the skin of your neck. Your quick, fevered movements, so full of a craven kind of lust, make it difficult to set a steady pace. You ride him, and you do it with everything you have. This will be the last time you touch him—the last time he touches you. He’s terrible, he’s a horrible beast of a man that you wish nothing more than to escape, but you will always crave him—his horror, his bloodlust—somewhere deep within you.

His claws dig into your skin, rolling your hips. You’ve rubbed off on him, fueling that lingering primal urge that wants to push you to the ground and take you like an animal. That’s all you are. That’s all you’ll ever be.

“Fuck, you’re so lovely, my flower,” he purrs in your ear, encouraging a shiver down your spine.

“Thank you, Coryo.” You’re breathless, barely holding on by a thread—especially when the pad of his thumb finds your sensitive clit. You’ve been so sensitive lately. He likes it.

His hips cant into you, just as close to tipping over as you are as you grip one another, you searching for his relief and him searching for his own. He circles his thumb faster, he loves to cum with you because you get so tight.

You whimper, feeling tears gathering at the corner of your eyes as you try to will them away. “Coryo,” you sigh. “I’m close…”

“Come on, little thing. You can cum for me,” he bids, and you almost snap at that moment.

Rolling your hips in his lap, you hold on tightly to him as a thread in your belly tightens and tightens. He's more insistent, reaching for his own end in the sparks of his nearing release.

He flicks his thumb, and you break apart. Burying your face in his neck, a whimper—which more resembles a sob—shudders from your chest as you dissolve into him. “F-Fuck, Coryo,” you mewl, grinding a little harder into his lap.

You clench down around him, and a rough groan tears from his throat as his other hand sinks into your sides. His heavy breath is fast and deep in your ear, rare praises fall from his lips. It's all heat and rush and flooding pleasure as you're both sent on a high to last the day. For you, a high that will come crashing down for, quote possibly, the rest of your life.

But until then, Coryo feels good, so you feel good.

He spills inside of you, and you soak it all in. You soak it all in because, after all of this is over and you're sent back into this cold and hungry world, this is a part of him that will be all you'll have left.

Your arms tighten around him even more, willing the sparks of your pleasure to shoot just a little longer. You will away the tears threatening to spill. He surely does not deserve them. You do not deserve them.

With a steadying sigh, you pull away from him. Coryo looks at you with lust blown eyes, his breath leveling once again as he stares at you. He doesn't say anything for a while, he just stares.

He raises a hand to a strand of your hair between two fingers. He sighs shortly. “You're beautiful.”

You hold your breath. You don't mean to, but his praises have an effect on you that you hope you'll shed in the time to come. They play over and over and over again in your brain. My flower, my darling, so good and radiant and beautiful. So beautiful.

You swallow thickly. “Thank you,”you whisper, brushing hair from his face to take a long look into his twinkling eyes.

Snowflakes.

It is not time to freeze.

You kiss him, a deep and dark kiss that you hope will sustain you so you no longer need another. It's almost as if he knows, as if he is aware of your plane to flee. With the way he kisses you, so possessive with the intention to conquer, he must know.

But you pull away, catching your breath once more as you hoist yourself from his lap. You clean up in silence. And the silence is sobering.

As you retrieve the stack of documents needing intending to, you make your way to the door. And you linger. You don’t mean to do it, but you do. You stand there and think, over this and that, over everything that’s ever happened or will happen or won’t ever happen.

You don’t want to leave.

Coriolanus’ pull is so strong. It sucks you in, it urges you to stay within the comfort of his cold eyes. You turn, taking in the sight of him. He sits back in his chair, his attention already turned to his work. He is a sight to see, basking in the glory of a deceiving pale light. And then there are the roses. Those damned roses, frosted in flakes of snow.

He glances up at you, raising a curious brow. “Forgetting something?” His voice washes over you like honey. You have to remember it’s a front. His voice is not sweet honey, it’s bitter sap.

You shake your head. “No.”

You stare some more. How could you leave this man? When he is so beautiful…

Your lips part, an unspoken question on the tip of your tongue that you nearly blurt in your haste to find any reason to go…or stay.

“Do you really think I’m beautiful?”

He watches you for a long time, saying nothing. His pale eyes take you in, but they’re so cold. They’ve always been cold. He’s contemplating something. But it isn’t the silence that convinces you.

“Of course,” he admits. And you believe him, in a way. You believe him, and you look into his eyes and see…snowflakes. Billions and billions and billions of snowflakes. They’re so beautiful, just like him—you can already see your breath in the air.

You smile, your hand tightening on the threshold. As you nod his way, accepting him for what he is, you let go of it. “Thank you,” you say. You take a step back, crossing a barrier where the world outside of his office eases the gooseflesh that had risen in the chill of his winter. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Mhm.”

And you stand there, lingering. Already passed the threshold with nothing more to do than turn away. All you have to do is leave.

You never thought you’d find it so difficult to leave.

~

It's not as hard to remain inconspicuous as one might think in the Capitol.

Your dark glasses hide your face, your expensive robes cover your clothes, you're wearing a dark hood over your head that keeps identity more or less sealed.

But the fashion of the Capitol is so obnoxious that you're not the only one on the street dressed like this. You stride down the pavement, passing building after building on your way to the train station. It's heavily monitored by Peacekeeper grunts. Your heart is pounding in your chest at the idea of being caught.

Inside the station, it's freezing cold. You wrap your robes a little tighter around you in the hopes of preserving some heat in the shivering air.

You glance toward the hall past the receptionist desk, taking in a breath as you square your shoulders and begin to walk over.

“Ma'am?”

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you will it to slow so you can think straight. Without sharing your anxiety, you turn to her with a hum. “Yes?” you ask with a tired sigh.

“You can't go back there without confirmation.” You swear you almost pass out when you see her lift her hand, gesturing to a Peacekeeper grunt to step forward. You hear the heavy thump of his footsteps, and it matches the heavy thump of your panic in your throat.

Steeling your nerves and straightening your spine, you answer, “I have confirmation.”

“Let me see.”

Part of you realizes now that you have, in fact, been too much around Coriolanus. You have to remind yourself that most of this is an act as you sneer at her and her tone, walking straight toward her desk. 

You open the bag slung over your shoulder, tearing out documentation signed with the name Coriolanus Snow in elegant scripture. You watch her eyes widen, the name striking something in her heart as she clears her throat and nods. With a huff, you collect the paper and turn away to continue your venture.

You’d been holding onto that for a while as one of the things you had Coryo sign within his stack of important documents. You’re just glad you’d had the foresight as you strut down the hall, past the receptionist desk, past the offices, past the closets, all the way down to the exit door at the end. There's a large shed in the back, filled with crates and storage units and all the stuff they don't want to put in the station.

As you push open the door, looking around nervously, you feel like maybe this isn't such a good idea (as though that thought hadn't been bouncing around your head for the past few weeks). It’s so dark, weighed down with a heavy gloom that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You grind your teeth, clenching the strap of your bag between your fists as you steady your beating heart.

What if it’s a trap? What if he knew what you were planning all along and now he was here to collect you, punish you, kill you? Your tongue is heavy in your mouth, scared to announce yourself, to give yourself away.

Your focus shifts immediately at the slightest sound of someone’s soft boot against the floor. You feel your hands flex for something, anything you can use to defend yourself. You’re almost disgusted by the second-natured pull it has—the basic instinct that had been torn out of you during the Games.

It takes a moment, but you notice the second figure stepping out after you and release a sigh. Your fingers relax just a bit, feeling the slightest bit of tension as it slips out of you. “Tigris,” you sigh.

She goes to you, wrapping her arms immediately around your neck and pulling you in. There’s a weight there that both eases you and urges you to hold on tighter. This will be the last time you ever see her…

Tigris pulls away, though her hands are still firmly on your arms. “Did you get here safe? No one saw you?”

“I don’t think so,” you say, removing your hood and your glasses to unveil yourself. “Pretty sure I look like any other highborn schmuck in this place.”

The first figure, a woman you have yet to be acquainted to, steps forward for you to see. Her face is stern, it betrays no softness as she scans you. Her eyes are dark, her hair is darker. She's got tanned skin and a muscular build that you'd see on the ones from your home, or perhaps even District Two. She's a little older than you, an inch taller. She’s dressed as one of the workers here, her uniform as standard as the rest of them, her brown hair tied back in a tight bun.

“We have to be quick,” she says. “The train leaves in ten minutes.”

You let go of Tigris, schooling your expression to be just as hard as her own as you look her over. “Who are you?”

“Your only ticket out of here,” she says. “My name is Josephine, and from now on, you answer to me.”

You raise a brow. “I’m getting real tired of answering to people.” Is that not the whole reason you’re here?

She matches your expression with no patience for your reluctance. “Do you want to get out of this alive?”

You look at Tigris, then at Josephine. With a sigh, you glance down and nod, “Yes.”

She hums. “Then you do as I say when I say it. Otherwise, you screw us all. Do you understand?” You nod. “Good.”

She turns and starts walking further into the shed. You follow her, Tigris walking next to you as she leads you to a large crate. “You’re going to get in here, and I’m going to seal it. Don’t worry about suffocating, you’ll be fine. I’m going to wheel you out with the rest of the cargo, and we’re both getting on that train. Until we reach our first District, you stay in the crate. Silent. Do you understand?”

You nod. She smiles. “Say your goodbyes.” She begins to stack two other crates onto a large cart, leaving you to each other.

She’s crying. It’s the first thing you notice when you look at her. When you feel her arms wrap around you again, you let yourself be wrapped in her. She holds you tight, with a lot more strength than you would have thought her to have. You bury your face in her neck, letting out a slow, trembling breath in an attempt to keep yourself level.

“Please be careful,” she says, her grip just as tight as before.

“You, too.” You pull away regretfully, squeezing her arms with all the worry in your chest. “Don’t get hurt because of me.”

She raises a hand to cup your cheek. “I will be fine.” Glancing over at Josephine, waiting patiently by an open crate, cushioned inside only by a seat of hay. To look less suspicious, you imagine. “I think you’re in good hands.”

You nod, resisting the urge to hug her again as you feel your hand absent-mindedly reaching for your belly. You swallow thickly. “Goodbye, Tigris.”

She squeezes your hands twice. “Bye.”

There’s plenty left unsaid, only you don’t know what any of it is, you just know it’s put to rest.

With a sigh, Tigris pulls away from you, turning away and disappearing from the shed and from your life.

You turn toward Josephine and nod. Climbing into the crate isn’t difficult. You throw your leg over the side and hoist the rest of your body in. When you’re safely sat inside, Josephine gives you one last look before she’s sealing you in, trapping you with nothing but the slightest slivers of light from the breaks in the wood and the holes at the top. The banging of nails is loud, unyielding, it sets every nerve on edge as she locks you inside.

“It will be a long ride to Nine,” she says. “Just sit tight and stay silent, alright?”

You nod, feeling as though your breath is too loud and your voice isn’t loud enough. “Okay.”

You’re shrouded in darkness when she throws a large drape over all the crates, and you almost startle when you feel it move underneath you. You hold your knees close to your chest and try not to hold your breath as the loud squeaking of opening doors fills your ears.

When you hear voices surrounding you—people boarding the train, Peacekeepers barking orders to passengers and workers and other grunts—it all feels so surreal. And terrifying. It’s terrifying. This isn’t going to work. It would be too easy—all things considered. You’re going to get found out, and you’re going to be sent back to Coryo, and he’s going to have you killed.

You decide it’s time to stop thinking.

The crates stop, and you think you were right all along. Then you feel yourself being weighed back all the way to one side and realize that you’re just being loaded into the freight car.

And after a long, long while filled with nothing but distant voices and more cargo and more footsteps and slamming doors, a loud horn is sounded into the air.

And the train begins to move.

~

Everything is sore.

The crate rattles and clatters around you. Your back throbs harshly from the uncomfortable position you've held for the better half of the last day, your stomach is growling from the lack of food, your behind is aching, and there's a sweltering heat in the air, worsened by the small space.

It's hard to focus on anything when you hear the sounds of people on the street and birds in the sky and squealing wheels and horse hooves on cobblestone. You brace your hands on the walls enclosing you in the space.

You try to look through the cracks of the crate at what is around you. All you can see are the fleeting sights of people bustling through a busy street. It reminds you of the marketplace back in your home district. You can smell stale bread and animal shit and something else, and it makes you want to vomit.

Your concept of time is a little dull by the time the scene has completely changed. You think it's been about thirty minutes, and you're surrounded by the sounds of the wheels moving on top of dirt and the snorts of horses. You can still smell horse shit, so that hasn't changed, but there's the smell of fresh grass and something else to accompany it.

The wagon comes to a stop.

As though you have much of a choice, you huddle in on yourself as you hear heavy footsteps rounding to the back of the wagon to unload the crates next to you. Your crate is grabbed, and you try to stay quiet as you slap a hand over your mouth.

You hear the slight groaning of people lifting your crate, and you panic in trying to stay still as you're wobbling around. They carry you away from the wagon, and you just hope to whatever’s hearing you that these are the good guys.

After a moment, you're put down unceremoniously. There's a pause, then the sound of something metal, and then the top is being pried open by a crowbar. Your heart hammers in your chest, your breath kicks up to a million, and you feel like your brain is about to explode.

The lid comes off with a loud crack!. The face peering in on you is unfamiliar, but it doesn't seem surprised to see you. You don't move just staring back at him before he's backing away as well.

Then you see Josephine. She gives you a reassuring look that helps to calm some of your stress. A hand instinctively falls to your belly as you feel your heart slow just a pinch. She holds a hand out for you. You reach out and take it.

When you stand, you look around at where you are. The glaring sun isn't beating down anymore, but that doesn't change the fact that you're sweating, and you'll probably continue to sweat.

You're in a barn house. It's a nice size, big enough for a large family. There are corn husks and pieces of stalk and leaves all over the floor. There are tools and more tools and more crates and all the necessary items for a barn house (with more emphasis on the barn part than there is on the house part).

You take in the sight of the people surrounding you. There are quite a few, all with a varying amount of emotions across their faces. You swallow thickly, glancing at Josephine for some support. You don't know her well, but she's the only one you're sure is your friend (in the rather loose meaning of the word).

“Everyone,” she says, coming up to stand next to you as she addresses the people in the room. They watch you as they listen to her. There's a boy with brown hair and freckles younger than you, not quite a child but not yet a man. There's a woman older than Josephine with a few gray hairs on her dirty blonde head. Before you're done examining everyone, Josephine’s talking again. “Meet our newest guest.”

“No fucking way.”

Your head snaps to the voice who'd just spoken. You can see a woman your age, skin dark and hair short. There's a type of resentment in her eyes that you are not new to. She looks extremely upset by the sight of you, and you think ‘Great. More people who hate me.’

There's a guy standing next to her. He looks really similar, a brother, maybe. His hair is short like hers, he's much taller. His face, though, isn't as thoroughly repulsed than hers so you think maybe there's hope.

“What is she doing here?” He addresses Josephine directly. “Is this why you didn't tell us who it was?”

“She's fled the Capitol,” she states firmly, reaffirming her positions as the apparent leader. “Our job is to harbor people in need of shelter. She is one of them.”

“Why should we help her?” the woman asks spitefully, looking away from you like you hadn't even existed a moment ago. “What has she done for us, huh?”

They're speaking around you. You don't like that they're speaking around you, like you aren't even there. Something itches inside of you, something that should have dissolved a long time ago that you still find poking around when people aren't taking you seriously.

“Calm down, Via,” her brother says, turning to with an almost exasperated look. At least now you know this isn't an exclusive reaction, though it may be a specialized one.

Josephine’s eyes stay focused on this “Via” character as she speaks. There's an authority in her voice that is undeniable. “It's fine, Vincent.” She pauses like she's giving her rebellious subordinate a silent warning. “She's one of us. We protect our own.”

It's so strange to hear that. “One of us.” Like you're actually part of something, and not some “other” option that no longer belongs to a people anymore. You're so used to the insults: scum, filth, animal, murderer, something that's so worthless to a person's time and energy. Even from your own master, you are—you were—nothing but a pet. Just an animal.

Now you are, apparently, one of them.

Not everyone feels the same way.

“She's not one of us. Not anymore. She's Capitol now.” She turns to you, disgust curling her otherwise pretty features. “Look how she dresses, look how she stands, listen to how she talks.” She makes this scoffing sound. Your hands turn to clenched fists, and an anger seethe within you at this treatment that you hoped would start to dim with the start of your new life on the run. There's so much disdain for you in the things that she says, and you're sick of hearing it.

“She may have been District once, but now?” She shakes her head, raising a finger to point at you. “That's Capitol trash.”

That makes you snap. You don't mean to do it. After years of biting your tongue just to keep your head, after years of being conditioned to take these insults as you try to scrape your life together into something sufferable, being slapped in the face with them by someone who's supposedly on your side (who's supposedly “one of us”) isn't something you can keep down.

It spills like molten lava from a volcano. There's nothing fast about it, nothing striking. It burns your mouth and your chest and everywhere that it's been festering. It spews, but it moves so slowly and so softly that the lethargy is easily mistaken for a weakness, rather than this corrosive thing that's been eating you up for so much time.

“You don't understand what it was like.” Your throat burns as you try to keep it down.

She looks at you with spiteful amusement, as if to say, “It talks!”

“How what was like?” She raises a brow and pulls her voice slow to cut deep. “Being his little pet? His slut?”

The initial explosion comes in short spurts. Your mouth is hot as it forms around the words, words that are so unhelpful that they just continue to burn your tongue.

“He made me.” Flashes of Coriolanus flit through your mind. His smirk is embedded deep in the fabric of your thinking, his lips melding against your skin and his teeth sinking into the flesh are committed to memory.

She's unconvinced. “But you were happy to do it, weren't you?” She steps closer, and Vincent follows hesitantly, as if to ensure she doesn't do something stupid (or to back her up if you decide on something stupid). “You lived in the lap of luxury while the Districts suffered and funded your little paradise.”

“Volivia.” “Via.” Both Vincent and Josephine speak at the same time in an attempt to rein her in.

“No, it's fine.” You shake your head, taking a moment to choose your words. You lick your bottom lip in thought. “For a time, yes, I did enjoy myself.”

She scoffs and gestures toward you with an I-told-you-so look plastered on her face. “Like I said,” she spits. “She's a Capitol slut.”

Your voice raises a smidgen when you speak again, but you try to refrain. You almost don't realize your tactic, the way you speak, the way you try to establish yourself. It's written like Snow.

“Snow sought me out after the Games.” You take a breath, closing your eyes to center yourself. “I was alone and hungry and a lot of people in my District hated me for what I had to do during the Games. They threw rotted food at my house, they stole the food sent to me from the Capitol that I was going to donate most of anyway. I wasn't even allowed into some places because they hated me so much.”

You push past the bile rising in your throat, remembering the way everyone used to look at you. Friends who'd known you for years, who'd known your parents, who you'd practically grown up with turned on you just for “winning”.

“Some understood but no one wanted to risk being turned on by everyone else, not that I blame them for that. People need to eat… So I was really…alone.”

You sigh sparingly, like you're conserving air like rations. “Snow found me and offered me a contract—a spot in the Capitol where I could have a chance to be happy, as long as I became his assistant.” You swallow thickly. “And I agreed.”

Volivia isn't easily persuaded. “And it was so bad going to all those parties? Getting served fine wine and fancy foods?”

The fatigue gnaws at you. “You know, everyone thinks the Capitol is so sophisticated, but they always forget that I was still District.” Your blood begins to boil in your veins, thick like lava as you think of everything you've been slapped with. “They insulted me, and they laughed at me. Some spat at me on the street if they were so inclined.”

You wince. You hadn't meant to word it like that. Volivia wasn't entirely wrong when she said you were basically Capitol. You don't have Capitol blood in your veins, but you've got some of their nerves in your brain, and that's hard to wash out.

“I wasn't much better until Snow gave enough threats that they were forced to stop. You wanna know why I'm so much like Capitol now? Why does a possum play dead? Why do children in the Games kill other children?” No one speaks. “To survive.” It's always about survival. “I spent six years with them, how could I not conform?”

A softer voice speaks, the freckled boy you'd first seen when you arrived. He seems a little shy, if not curious. He tilts his head, speaking tentatively. “What about Snow?”

You look down at your feet. Images of him flash behind your eyes again, but you pretend they don't. Thinking about him won't summon the man, so you don't understand why it feels like it will.

It takes a while for you to garner the courage to reply. He waits patiently, hoping he hasn't offended you.

“My first month there,” you lick your lip, “I spent just getting used to running his errands. I was still so new, and I didn't want to disappoint him because I was afraid he would do something bad to me.” He glances down at his hands.

“But he called for me one night, and I came…” You screw your eyes shut, keeping them that way as you try to say these next words. “I came and he told me to get on my knees.”

A mixture of emotions runs through everyone. Most avert their eyes and look sort of awkward, offering silent sympathies or simply trying not to impose on your unease.

But Volivia will not be persuaded that easily to your side. “Please–”

“One night, I made the mistake of thinking we were on the same level when he threw me to the ground and told me I was nothing but District scum, whose only job now was to please and serve him.” She doesn't speak. “He called me an animal and a whore and told me that I belonged to him, made sure I wouldn't forget it, too. So your insults aren't really hurting me. They're just pissing me off.”

There's a little less venom when Volivia speaks again, but she still isn't kind. She can't let you know that you've affected her. You don't blame her. You would've done the same.

“That doesn't mean we should help you,” she argues almost weakly. “You signed a contract, you knew what you were getting yourself into. You left the Districts behind to become the enemy.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, guess what?” You throw your hands in the air, frustration at the both of you for prolonging this so much. “I'm a goddamn idiot who didn't read the fine print.” You take a step forward. Everyone reacts, but no one moves.

“Do you know what my contract said?” She raises a brow. “If I disobeyed Snow for any reason, he would drop me back at Seven and put my name back into the raffle a hundred times over so I was sure to go back to the Games.” You shudder at the thought. The very idea of going back to the arena is haunting.

You start to feel physically sick. As you imagine yourself running through that arena, your blood pumps through your veins and it itches so much that you think you’d break skin if you started scratching. Your muscles jerk, urging you to move as you stare into Volivia’s eyes. She’s staring at you, glaring. When you look down at her hands, her fists are clenched.

She’s going to hurt you. Don’t just stand there. Run! You swallow thickly. It’s all in your head. Run or you’ll die! Your heart hammers in your chest. You don’t think you can breathe. Go, now!

You close your eyes shut. You’re hit with an immediate wave of regret. Images of blood and gore, the sounds of screams and raging shouts fill your ears.

“I can’t–” You catch yourself. Swallowing thickly, you open your eyes and see her again. There’s something there, not quite confusion, not quite fear anymore. Your voice wavers as you speak quietly. “I can’t do that a second time. I can’t go through that again. The things we did, I…”

You take a step back. It gives away your power, but you can’t bring yourself to care yet. You keep your back straight, keeping your eyes open and focused. Do not show fear. They’ll smell it off of you. And you will die.

“We were just children.” She had red hair, like fire. It stuck out like a sore thumb. His was like night, but he just wasn’t quiet enough. “My games had the most number of tributes under 14 years old than we’ve ever had.” She was dark, he had freckles, she had two tones, he was sick, so was she.

You’d been able to shove it all down for so long, you almost thought you’d forgotten it all. He was so afraid of the dark. And he was so funny, so they cut out his tongue. And she–

“Do you remember their names?”

You turn toward the freckled boy. He’s really sweet. He reminds you of Willard, who had the kindest smile, even as the light was leaving his eyes.

“I remember…” you lick your lips. “I remember their names. I remember how they died, when they died. And I remember how sweet some of them were before they rang the bell.”

You feel childish, standing there and saying everything that you’re saying. It feels wrong, it feels like a sad attempt at sympathy. But you don’t want sympathy, you just want peace. You want to go to a land far, far away where you can forget everything. Where you can sleep without his eyes, their screams, their scowls.

“I would have done anything not to go back. That includes being a whore.” You focus a hard glare at Volivia, walking toward her again until you’re practically toe to toe. “So, yeah, I fucked Coriolanus Snow, but if you went through what I had to go through, there are a lot of things you would do to avoid that arena.”

She stares silently at you, a hard expression on her face battling her own conflictions.

On one hand, you represent everything a District citizen should not be (in her eyes at least). You were too well-spoken, too well-dressed. You smelled like expensive perfume, you kept a posture stiff as a board. Your hands are rough but your nails are pristine.

On the other, as she sees now…you bleed District blood; thick, dirty, and pumped straight from the heart. Even though you talk like money, you huff and bark and claw like an animal. You show her you’re dangerous by bucking up. You don’t waste your time with threats.

Volivia looks you up and down, licks her bottom lip, and steps away. You release a tiny breath. The tension in the barn house feels a little easier.

Vincent walks forward, gently grabbing Volivia’s arm and pulling her back to his side. “I’m sorry,” he says. He offers a small smile, a peace offering. “You’ve been through a lot.”

You sigh, relaxing enough to ease the pain in your back, your feet, your head. “I just want to lay down.”

Josephine reasserts herself. “You’re welcome here. Make yourself at home,” she says. “Vincent. Can you take care of her?”

“Yeah.” He tilts his head to the side, motioning for you to join him. “Come on.” You look between him and his sister and begin to walk forward. Volivia huffs, moving forward and shoving past you with the harsh brush of your shoulders.

She grabs a shovel from its leaning place on a wall, turning back to you and shoving it into your chest. “We’re not freeloaders,” she says. “Wherever we go, we work. Until you get too big to help anyone, you’ll be working, too.”

She turns to storm away, balled fists, scowled face, and all. She pauses as she gets to Josephine. “Who knows? Maybe she’ll use that shovel to dig our graves.” In the next moment, she’s throwing open the doors and leaving you all to gawk.

Josephine gives Vincent a look, and he just sighs and gestures once again for you to follow him. Josephine follows Volivia out of the barn.

You walk next to him as he leads you toward a flight of stairs. “Ignoring Via, we can’t risk letting you out of here so soon. You’ll have to lay low, so you’ll stay in the barn until we’re sure it’s safe.”

He leads you to the open attic. There’s still hay everywhere, still tools and loaded sacks and crates and the like. But there are shabby beds with shabby sheets, enough to fit one more.

“You’ll sleep up here.” He looks around the room, and then scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry for the lack of hospitality.”

You shake your head. “It’s perfect. All I need is a bed.”

He nods, doing a once-over of the room. “There will always be someone here to watch over you and make sure you’re safe. But, on the off-chance that someone we don’t know comes by, you hide in here.” He walks toward the small window. Underneath it is a bench that lines the wall. It’s stacked with crates and sacks and whatever else. He moves some sacks onto the floor and lifts the seat, revealing a small nook big enough for a single person to safely hide. “Just stack some empty sacks on top of yourself. You should be safe—it’s worked before.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m happy to help,” he smiles. There’s a moment of awkwardness. “I’m Vincent. Downstairs was my sister, Volivia. Before you ask—yes, we’re twins. I’m sorry about her hostility. She gets in trouble a lot with Peacekeepers so nothing scares her too much.”

You almost chuckle. You had your fair of arguments with Peacekeeper grunts before you were pulled from the raffle. The ones in your District were glad when you were chosen. It only meant less trouble for them. “It’s okay. I understand.” You look away. “I would have been the same way if someone like me showed up unannounced.”

You see him move out of the corner of your eyes. Though your instincts have dulled a bit during your time in the Capitol, the movement still makes you flinch a little. He’s sure to move extra slow as he sets a hand on your shoulder. “You’re safe here.”

You nod, taking a short breath. “Thank you, Vincent.”

Vincent hums. “Your bed’s right there. I’ll let you rest.”

When he descends the steps, the breath you let out deflates your whole body. You head toward the bed, sitting down slowly to keep it from falling apart underneath you. You lay down to rest your head on the pillows and bid your eyes to close.

There’s a strange feeling in being so far from him. You don’t feel…free. You feel like there’s a string (or a rope) wrapped around your neck, tying you to him still. It’s a loose bond, but it’s ever-present. It feels almost inevitable, this binding holding you to him.

Still, you try to urge yourself that it’s entirely fictional. There is no rope. There’s no chain. You made it up. You made it up to feel safe, controlled, tethered to the ground and not lost somewhere in the depths of absolute insanity.

You made it out. Everything will be okay.

~

PART THREE: Luxury

It’s been two months.

They kept you locked inside for a couple weeks before they felt safe enough to have you participate in chores. Volivia was pleased to have you start working. She was starting to call you a freeloader. Vincent did his best to make you feel welcomed, despite his sister’s hostility.

Josephine has been very accommodating, but she’s firm. It’s more grounding than it should be. There’s someone still in charge of you. Where you would have felt fatigued by the constant inferiority, you welcome it with silent gratitude. You don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t know how you would have done this on your own—you could have managed to survive well enough, but complete freedom isn’t as wonderful as some people make it out to be.

Gylan’s become important to you. You don’t know what it is. Maybe your mind is preparing you for a child by making you feel too protective over this boy, but you don’t care too much.

Which is a lie. You do care. Because if you care too much and you lose him, how are you to cope with that? At any moment, it could all come crashing down. Coriolanus is cunning. He’ll find you. He’ll find you, and he’ll hurt you, and he’ll make sure you can never betray him again.

That said, you haven’t been very optimistic. Gylan helps with that.

Every day has been the same. Wake up, get dressed, do your chores (which range from doing house duties to feeding the horses to shucking corn—it's a corn field—or whatever else there is to do), eat, go to bed. It’s tedious but it’s honest work. Sure, the bed is shitty, the food is some corn recipe with stale bread on the side most days, and your body hurts all the time, and you're constantly tired, but it feels nice to do something other than run around the Capitol just to have people dismiss you with wishes it is not your duty to perform.

At least here, you’re doing something to help. A lot of this food goes to the Capitol, but what isn’t used for that goes to the Districts.

You’ve begun to show a bit. There’s a little bump on your belly that you find yourself massaging sometimes. It’s never conscious. But it’s comforting.

Gylan asked what you thought you wanted to name the baby. You just shrugged and made a joke about naming them after him if you turn out to have a boy. He laughed, a really excited laugh. It’s refreshing, seeing someone so happy, especially all the way out here in District area.

Vincent has been appointed as your bodyguard—though you’re pretty sure he appointed himself your bodyguard to make up for his sister’s attitude. You don’t mind it either way. When he isn’t working, he’s by you ensuring that you’re okay. While you would normally find the constant company draining, he’s very good at avoiding it.

Sometimes it’s unnerving, being around Vincent. He’s very sweet, you don’t wonder about that, but…there’s something about him that confuses you. Gauging his thoughts is hard sometimes.

Volivia is less confusing to you. You’ve tried your best to avoid her. But it’s a small barn. She hasn’t been overly bitter; although she’s no sweetheart. She doesn’t insult you, but there are some backhanded compliments here and there. You appreciate her effort not to target you.

Sometimes you can’t breathe.

Sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night gasping for air, like you’re being buried alive. It’s quiet enough that you usually don’t wake anyone. You don’t know why this happens. Even before, your nightmares were obvious to you. These…they’re much different. It feels like you’re suffocating.

Maybe he drugged you. Or maybe it’s some sort of device planted into your brain. He put it there so that you wouldn’t get a moment of peace when you’re not with him.

But then you realize that’s paranoid and insane.

“Get upstairs now.”

You’re startled by his tone. You wince when you stick your finger with the needle you’d been sticking through the fabric in your hands. Gylan had a tear in one of his shirts from when one of the horses gnawed on it that you were fixing.

“What’s happening?” you ask, putting your stuff down to stand. There’s a hint of fear in your voice that you try to keep away.

Vincent grabs your arm, though he’s gentler than you expected as he pulls you up the stairs with him. Volivia is picking up your tools, throwing them into some crate to discard. There can’t be any evidence of your presence. She’s less patient than her brother, but you’re not upset by that. “There’s no time. Just go.”

You both move quickly up the stairs. He opens the cupboard for you, taking out all the sacks for you to get inside. When you’re inside, he sets them over you and ensures you aren’t seen. “Don’t make a sound.”

You hold your breath.

Loud footsteps are heard downstairs after the door opens with a force that could only come from a Peacekeeper. You would be shaking if the adrenaline coursing through you wasn’t so familiar. You treat it like the Games because it is. He’s hunting you. You have to be silent.

There’s talking downstairs that you don’t understand. It sounds like mumbling, and you can’t even try to focus on it over the loud beating of your heart. You take in a slow, silent breath, hold it, and let it out just as quietly as you took it. You feel a little less like you’re dying.

The heavy footfalls of soldiers come up the stairs. You close your eyes and remain as calm as you can, listening to all the different sets of feet as they come.

“You got anything up here?”

Volivia’s is the voice who answers. She sounds pissed, more than usual. “We’re farmers. What the hell do we have to hide?”

A set of boots scuff on the floor when someone stops. It sounds so close to you. You think you’d be mistaken for a statue if you were discovered, you’re so still. “Just answer the question.”

“No.” That’s Gylan. You almost lose all your calm worrying about him. But he’ll be fine. He’s supposed to be here.

You hear the Peacekeepers start to throw things around. You hear mattresses lift off of weak wooden bed frames and fall to the floor. You hear heavy sacks of tools hit the floor with a loud clatter, anticipating the harsh bruising that’s to come from it. Someone beats on the nook next to you. You’re so startled, you jump with the slightest movement. It’s just small enough that you don’t draw any attention to yourself.

They keep kicking them, not hard, just enough to see if they can hear anything. Your heart is running wild. You can hear it pulsing in your brain.

Everything is still. Silent. You could hear a pin drop (or, perhaps, even your heart hammering in your chest).

“We hear anything about this again…” there’s the sound of a heavy boot, “and we’ll burn this place to the ground.”

You don’t know what happened. All you hear is Vincent saying Volivia’s nickname like he’s warning her. You’re supposing she bites her tongue, because nothing else is said.

After a moment, the heavy boots retreat. But you’re not immediately retrieved. You think you’re hiding in that cupboard for another five or ten minutes before someone finally comes to get you. It’s Gylan. He looks extremely worried, but he’s putting on a brave face for you. It’s sweet, but you don’t want him to have to do it.

“Josephine is on her way,” he says, helping you out.

Vincent is gathering things. “Pack your stuff, only light essentials. We have to get out today.” He comes up to you, passing over an empty sack. (You’re getting tired of seeing sacks.) You grab it, but he doesn’t let go yet. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice gentle and his eyes just as much. You nod. He lingers there for a moment, making sure, and then turns away to continue packing.

“Where are we going?” you ask as you start to pack some clothes.

“I don’t know,” Vincent replies. “It’s better not to say until we get there anyway.”

Josephine returns half an hour later. She’s carrying a bag over her shoulders that she hands off to Vincent. He passes his own back to her, looking up the stairs where you wait with Gylan. He’s telling you about which Districts he’d been to since he joined Josephine when Volivia’s calling you both down. You both grab your things and follow.

“We won’t take the train this time,” Josephine says. “It’s too risky.”

“We’ll travel by foot?” Volivia wonders. Wouldn’t that be risky, too? You’re easier to catch on foot. But she has a point, you’re easy to track by train…

“Until we reach the old farm at the edge of the District borders. There should be an emergency wagon there for us to use.” She turns to Gylan. “Are there any horses already there? Do you know?”

“There should be,” he says. “Penny said she checked up on them yesterday.”

“Good. Make sure you have everything. We leave in five minutes.”

~

It feels better, not walking so much.

The farm on the outskirts of Nine is even smaller than the one you’d been at for the past two months. It’s old and pretty run down. All the crops are bad from poor keeping. You don’t think anyone actually lives there. But they have an operational wagon and two horses that usually roam the area, so that’s all that matters.

It’s dark as the wagon takes you through the woods. You'd been traveling for over a day now. It’d been comforting to reach some trees. Being out in the open like you were felt so dangerous.

You peek through the tent, looking up at how dark the sky was. It isn't this dark in the Capitol. Too many lights. The stars are so bright here…

“How are you feeling?”

You look at Vincent, who’s holding the reins to guide the horses through a path in the trees. You shrug gently. Your body is sore—it’s always sore—your stomach is uneasy and you have a mild headache. They’re things you can ignore well enough until the wagon dips and makes your stomach flip uncomfortably.

“I’m okay, but this sickness is wearing me out,” you answer.

He chuckles lightly. “Do you wanna walk a bit? Via knows how to drive.”

The wagon is moving slowly enough that you could manage to trail behind it. It would be nice to break away from the uneven motion it’s putting you through, but the thought of walking isn’t giving you much relief with the way the bottoms of your feet ache.

You shake your head. “No, I’m okay. My feet still hurt from yesterday.”

He hums. Glancing away from the path, he gives you a gentle smile and pats the spot next to him. “Come sit next to me.”

Your stomach flips for another reason. You don’t want to get out and be seen… You don’t know who would see you, but the nerves eat away at you every time you think of the chance that you could be caught and condemned.

“You sure we won’t get caught?” you ask anxiously.

A light chuckle comes out of him as he nods. “Yeah. We’re basically in the middle of nowhere.” He scoots over a little. “Come on.”

You swallow thickly, thinking about it for another moment and assuring yourself that’s he right. There’s likely no one for miles. “Okay,” you mutter, hoisting yourself out of the wagon so you can pull yourself into the seat next to him. It takes some maneuvering, but you get there.

You sit next to him for a while. It’s so dark out and the ambiance of the horses and crickets and everything else around you is nice. You can feel yourself relaxing as the night air kisses your skin. You could fall asleep right then and there, but you refuse to. You’re too vulnerable right now. If you fall asleep and something happens… who are you to believe that you’re safe here? You know better than that.

You know it's foolish, but there's a bigger part of you, a wiser part of you that knows that you should always anticipate danger before you consider being safe.

So you don't sleep. The rest of the ride is silent, and you enjoy it as you try not to let your heavy head fall onto his shoulder.

~

District Eleven is beautiful.

Even in the dark, the vast orchard of trees to one side and field of strawberries to the other are breathtaking. The air smells sweet, the perfumes of the fruits in the late summer night waft into the air lovingly. You haven't been around such lavish fruits since you left—and even before that, they were never grand orchards of them.

You help the group unpack the essentials from the wagon, taking them inside with tired but dutiful movements in order to get in a bed faster. The owners of the orchard are kind, and they have a separate house from the large shed that is actually big enough to house all of their newcomers. It's nothing like the lavish mansions of the Capitol but it's spacious and comfortable and you don't share a room with five people. It's just you and Gylan.

Gylan is an easy sleeper. As soon as he plops into his bed for the rest of the night, he's out like a light. You don't have such luck. While he enjoys his slumber, you sit by the small window with your arms around your legs and stare out at all the greenery.

You don't know what time it is when a soft knock comes to the door. You quietly bid the person to come in. Gylan doesn't hear, he's a really deep sleeper.

“You're still up?” Vincent asks as he steps inside, looking between the two of you as he whispers to avoid disturbing your roommate.

“Yeah,” you mumble. “Sorry, not easy to sleep in new places.”

He shrugs, walking over to you and standing by your bed. “I get it.” He gestures to the edge of it, “you want some company?” He raises his brows, “I can help you sleep.”

You swallow thickly, your arms tightening around your legs. “How?”

He shrugs again. “I have a couple tricks up my sleeve.”

You try not to let your face drop into something more upset. You look down at your lap and clear your throat, letting your legs go and rubbing at your palms.

“I…” you clear your throat, not looking up at him. “I'm sorry, I'm really not… I…” You struggle to find the words. Rejecting him feels wrong.

You're not a whore, but you owe him and you owe the rest of his family for helping you. You're not a whore, but he could choose to throw you out and expose you to the Capitol again.

And what about Coryo? What if all of this was for naught, and he'd find you anyway? What if he found you and then found out that you'd betrayed him even further by fucking someone who wasn't him? It's the fight between two very difficult choices.

Vincent's face widens instantly as he realizes what you're saying. His eyes are big as dimes, his hands reach up in surrender. He shakes his head quickly.

“Oh,” he says, his voice hushed. “Oh! Fuck, uh– No, that's not what I meant. I meant like…like a back rub or something…” He wipes a hand down his face in an attempt to hide his embarrassment, and you find it reassuring—endearing, even.

“I see how bad that sounds. Um…” he shakes his head, as if to figure out what to say, “breathing exercises, y'know?”

“Oh.” You clear your throat, your own embarrassment creeping up your neck at the realization that you'd misunderstood him. “Okay, well. Yeah, um, that's fine.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Sorry, that was–”

“No, it was my fault.” You can't believe you misinterpreted him in that way. He hasn't come off in such a way thus far, and he's going to start now? How stupid could you have been…?

“No, it's not,” he breaks you from your thoughts.”You did nothing wrong.”

You don't believe him, but it's…nice to hear that you're not to blame. Even if you don't believe him. You should have known better.

“Okay…”

It gets quiet. And awkward. You sort of just sit there, and he sort of just stands there. It's silent and strange, and you don't know what to do with yourself.

“So…” you clear your throat.

He nods, “Yeah.” Vincent rubs his hands together, glancing around and rocking on his feet. “Did you want some…breathing stuff?”

You lick your bottom lip. “I'm actually…really sore in my shoulders, if you don't mind?” You feel like you sound stupid. You're not used to expressing your needs. You're used to standing straight and doing as you're told and pretending you've got everything together. Here, you don't have much of anything to keep together. You're exposed, and dealing with that is hard. “If that's okay with you, of course,” you add on, straightening your back to try to regain some composure, any professionalism you can hold onto.

“Yeah,” he says easily. “No problem.”

Vincent moves to sit on the edge of the bed. You stand, and he pulls your chair in front of him. You sit and feel his hands on your shoulders.

He's got strong hands. You assume it's from all the work he does, especially between moving around the Districts so often. His hands squeeze your shoulders, his thumbs moving between your shoulder blades to work out the knots he can feel. You're very tense.

Your eyelids are heavy. It feels really nice. Waves of relief and—almost embarrassingly—pleasure flower through you. You sigh longingly, trying to keep from making any sounds that would make this exceedingly more awkward for the both of you.

It's quiet and comfortable, as he works out the kinks in your back. You enjoy the peace and relief, he seems to enjoy granting it. When he speaks, it's very quiet and very assuring. You lean into every word and every pause between them, processing the weird curling in your chest.

“I just want to let you know that…” he takes a quiet breath, “I wouldn't do that to you—taking advantage of you like that.” One of his hands moves down to your arm, squeezing gently and smoothing his palm over the skin. “Especially not after everything you've been through.”

You're good at reading lies. You used to hear them every day, spewing from Coriolanus’ mouth like lava. But Vincent's words don't spew. They're soft and sweet, they're sincere and they're kind and you believe him.

You swallow thickly. “Thanks.”

“If you ever need anything, I'm here.” His voice is even softer now, dropped down a few pitches just to really make sure you understand what he's telling you. “All things considered,” he chuckles lightly, “you're safe here.”

That isn't a concept that was easy to understand for you. It never has been, and you're not sure if it truly will. But you want to believe him, and you want to trust him. He isn't lying, you know he isn't, you can hear it in his voice and feel it in the way he works his fingers into your back.

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes and letting them stick together like they're glued with sap. You take in a deep breath, let it out, and allow yourself to smile. Even if you don't believe it yet, you nod and think to yourself, ‘We're safe.’

Coriolanus Snow taglist: @the-nerdy-goddess @secretsicanthideanymore @tvparty18 @nowitsmissing @vi0lentb3rry @hiireadstuff @feyresqueen Tag yourself here...

[rahhhbananas]

AHEM *Couch* *chokes* *Accends*

So, can you make like a Miles x Male reader.

Like i be in my bed thinking what if they fr had a little baby named cory. Like Honestly. Imagine Him and Miles are like coming from thier earth and then while traveling to the spider society a baby just appears on Y/N's arms and frufurhfrufhruf. I just wanna see that and miles being a dad while Y/N is just out buying stuff alone.

(I hope there is multiple parts but Y/N has like super strength,, regenaration, infinite stamina and is kinda like a demon from demon slayer but like more stronger.)

✭ ✭ ✭ 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐘 ✭ ✭ ✭

warning(s). He/Him pronouns, foul language, The Spot , not proof-read

a/n. I hope you like it! I have a habit of getting off topic a lot but I tried to stay original to your plot! and there will definitely be a part 2

“This is insane!”

Miles exclaimed as he watched a group of spider people jog by. Y/n smiled. “Yeah, it's nice to know there are people like you whom you can relate to...” Miles looked up, hearing Y/n trail off. He stared at the other, and a long silence ensued before he finally spoke. “Wha... what is it? Did my suit rip!?” Miles patted himself down, feeling for any tears. “This is so embarrassing...” he sulked, sticking close to Y/n, trying to hide the rip from view. However, Y/n was still speechless. Pointing to Miles' back, he said, “Whose goddamn baby is that?” Miles stopped and looked at himself before attempting to find the baby.

“Baby?”

“Miles it’s…no, Miles on your back!”

“My back?”

“Miles, turn around!”

“Nah, I got this. Lemme just-“

“Miles-“

Y/n snatched the baby from Miles’ back “I don’t have the time or brain cells to deal with you.” Y/n held the baby up, the teenagers now getting a better look at the child. He had dark skin, e/c eyes, black hair, and a birth mark bellow his eye. Y/n looked Miles up and down “You cheatin on me? Got a girl pregnant…?” Y/n asked, his expression was everything but amused. Miles stared at Y/n, shocked, “I’m 15! What business do I have having…sex!” Miles flailed his arms around “What business do you have being Spider-Man..?” There was a long silence before it was broken by a tired sigh “Y/n I’d never cheat on you…” He grabbed Y/n’s hand, hoping to comfort him “Plus, the baby has some of your qualities. Now are you cheatin on me?” Miles joked, earning himself a punch to the shoulder.

Y/n laughed, before meeting the babies curious gaze “Well, then who’s baby is it?” Y/n asked, someone cleared their throat, the teens turned to see another spider person. Their suit was yellow, and they had large brown glasses “Theres a possibility that the portal merged your dna. It’s never happened before, but there was still a lingering potential…” The spider person answered, snorting before pushing up his glasses, Miles looked at the guy somewhat confused “Oh..thanks man.” The latter nodded before slinking off, Miles looked at Y/n “We really gon believe that?” Y/n deadpans, turning to face Miles “Unless you wanna go with idea that one of us cheated then yes, we will go with that.” Y/n responded, walking off towards Jess’ disappearing figure.

"Miles...” Miguel stared at the baby that Miles cradled. "Is that... your baby?" Y/n smiled, nodding. "Kinda. He was just attached to Miles when we got here. Why, Is he bothering you?" Y/n asked, a sudden aggression in his voice. Miguel's eyes widened. "What? No, no, no. Y-you can do whatever you want with... How did you get in here!" Miguel looked at Y/n, realization dawning upon him "You aren't supposed to be here." Y/n shrugged. "Get off the kid's arse. ‘Mm not supposed to be here either!" A punk-themed Spider-Man yelled from a swivel chair. Miguel rubbed his temple. "Hobie... just shut up. I can't deal with you right now." The leader sighed before brushing off the conversation, “Whatever, you know you can’t ignore me.” Hobie chimed, "Leave."

Miles looked confused and handed the baby to Y/n. "Leave? You mean like all of us? Or just him?" Miguel's frown deepened. "LEAVE!" He roared, bearing his fangs. Y/n and Miles quickly exited, not wanting to face Miguel's wrath.

Y/n looked at Miles with newfound annoyance. "Ugh, this spider society was a total bust. Hey, Miles, how are we gonna get home?" Y/n rocked the baby. "Huh?" The teen looked at Y/n, confused. "Get home? Y/n, we've only been here for like an hour. We can't leave yet!" Miles laughed, finding the situation amusing. Y/n raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, but we've got a baby to take care of!" Y/n handed Miles the kid. "You watch Cory while I go get some baby stuff!" Miles' face scrunched in confusion. "Cory? You named him?" Y/n nodded, but Miles frowned. "Y/n, no. We both know that once you name something, you get emotionally attached! We don't even know how long we'll have this baby. He could disappear right now!" Y/n gasped, covering the babbling baby's ears. "Miles! Don't say that in front of him. It's too late for abortion..." he whispered. Miles looked at Y/n as if he were crazy.

“Any-who! I’ll be at the nearest baby-store!” Y/n pulled out a futuristic watch, “Y/n where the hell did you get that…” Miles watched as his boyfriend tweaked with the watch, it started beeping rapidly before a orange portal opens and sucks Y/n in. Miles looked somewhat shocked “Well, I guess it’s just you and me…Cory?” The baby squealed in delight, enjoying Miles’ confused face. He sighed, walking further into the society.

“Thank you!” Y/n bided goodbye to the shop owner. He smiled seeing all the things he got from a low price, “Man, I can’t believe I got all this for only $30!” Y/n turned into a dark secluded alleyway, pulling out the watch his finger hovers over the button. Until he heard a yelp of pain, after waiting to hear the sound again Y/n spoke, “Hey, anyone in there?” He walked further into the alley, suddenly, a figure emerged from the trash can.

“I am, The Spot!”

“… are you a street performer or…?”

“What? No, I’m a villain.”

“Oh…”

“Aren’t you gonna ask me something?”

“Nah man, I’m good..”

“Please! Just ask me how I got like this! O-or why I’m after Spider-Man.”

“No, no..I-I said I’m good, don’t really wanna know that.”

“At least give me a good rating!”

“You want me to rate you?”

“Yes!”

“….um.”

“You won’t believe what the last guy called me! He said I was the ‘Villain of the Week’! Does he know how insensitive that is?”

“Look…Dot-“

“It’s Spot…”

"Sorry, Spot, I don't have time for this. My kid really needs his stuff," Y/n gave an awkward smile wanting to end the conversation, but the villain seemed persistent. "O-oh! You have a kid? Aren't you a little young?" Trying to keep the conversation flowing, the Spot followed, much to Y/n's dismay. "Um, he's not really mine. Me and my boyfriend just found him... kinda."

The Spot nodded, looking anywhere but the teen's eyes. The awkwardness was pushing his limits. "So, what's his name?" he coughed, looking at a stray cat. "You know what, I'm not doing this." Y/n clicked the button and quickly jumped into the portal, not bothering to look back. It closed with equal speed.

"Ugh, that guy was so awkward." Y/n groaned, setting the bags down on the counter before trudging to Miles’ room. He plopped on the bed, but before he could fully relax, a loud bang came from the window. A clicking sound was heard before feet hit the ground. "Did you just forget about us? I've been running from a crazy man for an hour!" Miles plopped down next to Y/n, letting Cory rest on his chest. Y/n sighed. "A crazy man? Miguel?" Y/n looked up, and Miles laughed, switching positions. "No, it was some anomaly dude. He had spots everywhere. But I wouldn't worry too much. He seems like a villain of the week." Miles let out a sigh, lounging further into the mattress, mindlessly letting Cory play with his hands. Y/n sat up, giving Miles a dead look. "You took a baby into battle?" Y/n frowned. Meanwhile, Miles froze and coughed lightly. "P-Peter does it all the time! It's not that bad, plus he's okay!" Y/n's frown deepened. "Peter is a trained professional. He can do what he wants!" Miles scoffed. "Trained professional? Have you met Peter?" Miles exclaimed, screaming as a pillow hit him in the face.

“That’s for taking a literal baby into battle!” Y/n hit Miles again “And that’s for not getting me a donut this morning!” Miles laughed, blocking the next hit “Are you serious!? Your still holding onto that donut thing!” Cory watched the two teens, falling back from his own laughter. Miles lunged forward, tackling Y/n and starting to tickle him back “You jerk! Stop-!” Y/n yelled between laughter, Cory’s contagious giggles followed. Miles smiled, looking at the child before picking him up “You wanna laugh?” Miles’ tickled the young boy, his smile widening the louder Cory giggled.

Y/n looked at the two, seemingly content with the situation, until he heard a pair of keys jingle. Miles stopped, picking Cory up and handing him to Y/n, he peaked out his door, coming back he looked panic, “Shit! My Dads here…how are we gonna hide a literal child!?”

[solar-wing]

⚣ Sassy Man Jason 👏🏻

⚣👏🏻 A/N → This is not a repost, this is a new original. Once again, another idea that came to me while I was in the middle of writing out one of my Conner fics and finishing my revisions to the third installment of Primal. I saw this on TikTok about the sassy men apocalypse and the first thing that came to mind was our favorite needy soft boi anti-hero.

⚣👏🏻 Summary → You didn't know why, but Jason had been giving you an attitude all day. Rolling his eyes, giving, you stank looks, and treating you like a cold piece of pie. What did you even do? And when did he get this freaking sassy?

⚣👏🏻 Words → 1.7k

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 👏🏻

“Jason, what is wrong with you?”

For what reason you couldn’t figure out, your boyfriend Jason Todd had an attitude since he walked through your apartment door. All day you kept receiving side-eyes, stank looks, and silent treatments anytime you tried to talk to or touch him.

Which, for your boyfriend, meant something had to seriously be wrong.

Even if he was weary of physical contact, he always sought out your comforting touch no matter what. Outside of his family (who were basically only one step above random strangers), you were the only one Jason allowed free reign to hug, hold, caress, and more.

Of course, he also preferred you being the same way and not allowing other people to touch you except for him, but that was a different story for another day.

But, today seemed to be different as Jason was almost treating you like his brothers. Not in the exact same way as he didn’t want to be bothered with you or avoided you. Moreso like he’d snuff your appearance or roll his eyes when you said something.

You were both currently on your bed in your room snuggled under one of your many blankets. You had a show you and Jason were currently binging on while snacking on some popcorn.

Usually, whenever you two would sit down to watch TV, read, play games, or even just enjoy each other’s presence, he’d pull you into his large embrace, secretly enjoying how you warmed his body up. And the stronger man would keep that hold on you the entire time, even if you tried to get up to go to the bathroom or grab some more food.

None of that happened. Jason sat his entire body on the other side of your queen-sized mattress, with the blanket wrapped around him.

It was actually a little funny seeing his large body laid down on your bed, as he had to make sure he didn’t tip himself over too far with his body weight and fall off the edge.

He even kept snatching the blanket from you every time you tried to snuggle under a little more. You had to buy all bigger-sized blankets to be able to cover both you and him since the ones you had before definitely were not up to the job. They sometimes barely managed to cover you.

So, imagine your annoyance when every time you move to adjust the blanket, it got snatched out of your hand. And the culprit behind it was lying next to you while giving you the world’s worst stank-eye like you did something to him before tucking more of the soft material under his neck, looking like a furry soft plushy with only his head sticking out the opening.

When you tried to get him to give you some of the blanket, he turned away from you, while still giving you more side-eye. That’s when you had asked what was wrong with you, while he just looked back at you, before turning his head back around and opening up his phone if the sound of him opening social media was any indicator.

It was official, your boyfriend was acting like the world’s biggest freaking toddler. And you still had no idea what brought on this treatment.

You looked over at the man, his blanket-covered broad back greeting you in return. Scooching over, you tried to hug him from behind, thinking maybe that would help but he only shook your body off before scooting himself closer to the edge.

“Are you kidding me?” You asked the vigilante, who only continued to ignore you while scrolling on his phone.

Now, it was your turn to roll your eyes as you basically sat in the middle of the bed with a boyfriend who apparently wanted nothing to do with you.

“Why are you acting mad at me? What did I do?” You continue to ask, starting to feel upset at how he was treating you.

When you were still met with silence, you huffed out a breath before going to move off the bed, “Whatever bro,” You muttered before grabbing your phone and stomping out to your living room.

Plopping yourself down on the couch, you unlocked your phone and opened your Messages app, deciding if your boyfriend wouldn’t tell you what was wrong, maybe someone else could help give you an idea.

The sounds of tapping on your phone filled the quiet space outside of the muffle from your TV in the bedroom as you typed a message to Dick, figuring he could help you figure out why Jason was so upset with you.

You: hey Dick?

Dick: hey Y/N! What’s up?

You: did something happen last night? is everything okay?

Dick: um no, at least not that I know of. Why, what’s wrong?

You: idk. Jason has just been acting weird all day since he got to my place. he barely looks at me without rolling his eyes, he won’t let me touch him or even near him for that matter, and he keeps giving me this childish attitude whenever I try to talk to him.

Dick: lol

You: lol?! why are you loling me? you think this is funny?!

Dick: quite actually. I think I know what’s wrong though. Last night when we were out on patrol, Jason was acting the same way. Apparently, he kept trying to call you since according to him, he’d rather listen to your snoring than our annoying voices over the comms but you weren’t answering.

You: OMG I was studying for a final and I told him I was leaving my phone on Do Not Disturb so I could concentrate.

Dick: you didn’t put him as an exception?

You: … you can do that?

Dick: yes. you can. how did you not know that?

You: IDK! shut up!

Dick: lol

While you were typing out another response to the annoying Nightwing vigilante, you heard the sounds of heavy footsteps making their way from your bedroom to the living room.

You looked up to see your mammoth-sized boyfriend still wrapped in your blanket to where you could only see his face and hair sticking out from the top and his feet poking from under. The stank look on his face was still there even as he walked forward to stand in front of you.

There was a creeping urge to laugh that you tried to resist while staring at your big, scary, and sometimes morally questionable vigilante boyfriend wrapped in a large fluffy red and white blanket with his bed-head curls lying over his forehead while staring at you like an angry child who was told no to getting a cookie from the jar before dinner.

“Are you finally ready to talk to me?”

He didn’t say anything before he just leaned down, opening the blanket so he could pick you up in his arms before walking back to your room and jumping on the bed with his body on top of you. Your breath had been knocked out of you from your impact on the mattress along with Jason’s heavy weight on top of you.

“Ugh, seriously Jay. You’ve got too much muscle on you to be jumping on top of me like that.” You groaned.

You heard an indignant huff from him as he looked at you with a raised eyebrow, “Are you calling me fat?” He finally spoke with his gruff voice.

It was once again your turn to roll your eyes, “Oh, don’t you start with me,” You replied before using your fingers to flick his forehead, his eyes narrowing at you in response.

“Are you seriously mad at me because I didn’t answer your calls last night? I told you I was studying for a final.” You said while now using the same hand to rub your hand through his hair.

“Why is my number not on the exception list on your Do Not Disturb in your phone?” He countered, completely ignoring your question.

“Oh my god, I didn’t even know you could do that. My parents aren’t even on that list.”

“Ok, and?” He said, shaking his head at you like that was supposed to mean something.

“When did you get so freaking sassy?”

“Give me your phone,” Jason ordered, not even waiting for you to move before he grabbed your phone out of your other hand. It was hard for you to move with his body still on top of you, plus his weight and body heat added with the warmth from the blanket tired you faster the more you wiggle around.

He placed the phone in front of your face to unlock it before going to your settings, “Why were you texting Dickface?” He asked.

“Because you wouldn’t tell me what was wrong with you so I asked him.” He just let out a gruff hum before opening the Do Not Disturb section in your settings, going to the panel you’d never seen before where you could add contacts in the phone’s feature so they could still call you or text you without being sent to voicemail or silence.

You watched as Jason added his contact in there, before also adding your parents.

“Seriously, you added my dads?”

“Yep. It’ll score me more brownie points at the next family dinner at your place.” He said with a sneaky smile, before putting your phone down and placing his chin on your chest to stare at you.

“Are you happy now?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Not yet. Promise me you’ll always answer my calls and texts. I don’t care if you’re studying, in the shower, or sleeping. It helps me feel better knowing you’re okay.” Jason said, holding his pinky out for a promise.

“Who died and made you boss?” You joked before yelping out in pain when Jason pinched the side of your butt.

“Ow! Fine, I promise.” You agreed, closing your pinky around his to which he smiled before patting the stinging area of your skin he just pinched.

“Good boy.”

“Alright. Are you done having an attitude now?” You inquired, wanting to go back to cuddling and watching your show.

“Almost. Gimme food and I’ll think about it.” He ordered, before laying his head down on your chest.

Your lips pulled up into an annoyed, but playful smile as you grabbed your phone to call your and Jason’s favorite pizza place, “When did you get so freaking sassy?”

“Always have been, babe.”

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Tight Threads | Yandere Malleus Draconia and Idia Shroud

Pop!

With a tentative lick, you collected the remaining bits of your favorite gum from over your lips. Even so, you didn’t bother pulling your eyes away from the glowing monitor, watching the animated cards shift as the electronic dealer reshuffled. The game was currently a fair fight. 

“Yuck! I was hoping to get another lucky noob!”

You kept quiet. Refusing to move your eyes from the robotic shuffling of the cards; your significant other on the other hand pulled himself over to the adjacent monitor which finally finished its animated cutscene. He sucked his teeth clicking the buttons and notches of the matching console as a boss fight ensued. 

“Geez this game is as buggy as those reviews were whining about. What a disgrace to the Love Supreme brand!” 

He sneered out a couple more insults, defeating the enemy and accepting another side quest. A flashy graphic flashed on the screen initiating his turn, he sucked his teeth again complaining about the player’s speed before sliding to the original monitor again. Despite his eyes being on the other screen he easily completed the quest, letting the victory screen play in the background.

“Huh!? Betting already and so much there’s no way they have a bad hand! There’s only one choice in this case–”

He brought a blue painted finger to the keyboard with full intentions to press down on it.

And it would've if it weren't for your intervention. 

“Hold it.”

You barricaded the monitor with your body as you confirmed your suspicions. Continuing to hog the keyboard, you held your ground waiting for Idia to change focus. Post haste he moved his controller from his lap, wrapping it around your waist as you replaced it. The clicking of his controller rang once more as he watched you in bewilderment. You answered him with a sigh.

“They’re baiting you. The way the cards are dealt means that the other players most definitely don’t have the means. They’re just trying to trick you with the size of the bet.” 

You shuffled your (his) hand before upping your own bet. The clicking stopped as he rested his chin on your shoulder, squeezing his arms tight around you. 

“Are you sure this isn’t just because we just watched that gambling anime? I don’t think we’ll be allowed to go to that con if you lose this much.”

“I got this Iddy watch me!”

You pressed the button to raise the bet. Letting the graphics cue the 2nd player and all that was left was to wait. Idia’s tapping pattern became more frantic, a small change from his usual pattern. You nuzzled his face in comfort as he completed his quest. Both of you nervously stealing glances at the bouncing dots of the player deciding.

“They’re raising.”

“Wouldn’t need to if their hand is good.”

Pressing the button again. The dots reappeared and you lightly shifted in anticipation. Idia on the other hand tucked his head into your neck as he harshly focused on the other monitor, too anxious to watch with you.

“おめでとう GamblerofZunderworld667! You’ve won the bet and a balance of over 30 million tokens”

Idia shakily sighed into your neck, brushing his lips against it as he triggered another cutscene in his game. Smirking with pride, you stretched your arms above your head. You then went to reach for the keyboard again only for the desk to slide out of your reach.

You pouted at the man on your shoulder.

“I think that’s enough betting for you.”

“Heh? You of all people shouldn’t be talking about limits. How many hours have you got on your latest RPG.”

“H-hey off! Off!”

He wrestled the controller from your grasp, maneuvering it behind him far enough to be out of your reach. Thanks to your position it proved to be the most effective way to stop you from taking his controller. You giggled as you thought of something devious. 

“Oh, Iddy~! Why don’t we both stop playing and do something more fun?”

Idia let a blush take over his face as he thwarted another attempt of yours for the controller.

“No way! It’s you who’s playing a game that spends our allowance.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who’s playing a game with voice chat. You- know-who isn’t going to like that~.”

“Who isn’t going to like what?”

You both stopped, startled at the new voice. You quickly straightened up as though you hadn’t been struggling just seconds before. Both of you putting on innocent smiling faces. Taking the lead you could practically feel the worry teeming off Idia.

“Hi Mal-Mal how was work today.”

“Irritating. I could only think about coming home to you two.”

“Awww Mal-Mal!” 

You got up from Idia’s lap to throw your arms around his shoulders, subtly taking in his scent. He seemed to do the same with you holding you close while supporting your back. Taking the hint you wrapped your legs around his waist, his hands cupping your butt, and waited for him to start walking. Idia watched you two leave into the adjacent room, golden eyes following before returning to the screen, quickly saving his progress and powering down.

“I don’t understand why you two stay cooped up in here when you have a full mansion at your disposal.”

“It's because that’s where Idia wanted our gaming set-up to be. Said he’s scared of the webcams getting hacked if we kept them in our room. Besides–” He arrived at your shared bedroom setting you on the bed while he removed his tuxedo in your walk-in closet. “He knows you’d never allow it.”

He smirked. “That’s absolutely correct.”

Now changed into his casual turtle-neck and loose jeans he returned to the bed. Kissing you multiple times on the eyebrow, your forehead, your cheek, and then your lips. Staying on that last part as long as he could before you lightly tapped at his forearm. Lightheaded you leaned into him, catching your breath while he nuzzled into your ear. Emerald eyes looked past your bowed head to the open door as Idia silently entered as well. Malleus hummed to himself as he watched his other lover disappear into the master bathroom.

“I’m sure we all will have so much to catch up on. Somehow a workday of seven hours feels like an eternity.”

___________________________________________________________

“How did it go? Did any of the conspirators get into the meeting?”

Idia huffed as he took a lick of his raspberry popsicle, leaning against Malleus’ unclothed chest. The vibrations of Malleus' laughter reverberated against his back, a feeling that made his heart beat even faster. 

“What do you think? I wouldn’t be the heir to the Draconian bloodline if they even got into the building.” 

“Still though, usually there's always someone who drops the bag. I can’t imagine a public book signing not having at least one.”

“Why do you ask Idia? Did you find something?”

Under Malleus’ intense gaze, the gamer found himself fidgeting, swallowing a chunk of his aftercare treat in hopes of delaying the response. It didn’t help. It only encouraged Malleus to wrap his arm around him to firmly hold his chin in a subtle threat, letting him continue to nibble at the frozen treat.

“N-not necessarily. Most of what I was talking about was a generalization–”

“Wrong.”

He tightened his grip on Idia’s chin forcing him to turn his head. Idia faltered feeling the warm breath tickle his lips as he tried to look away from that fanged smile. Malleus chuckled at his expression but held firm.

“You’re lying again.”

“W-what makes you think I’m lying?”

Malleus moved closer letting his lips graze Idia’s as he spoke.

“I know everything about my loves, every expression, every sound, every moan. I know it all. I thought you’d respect that by now.”

“I’m not trying to challenge you–”

“No?”

“I just want to make sure it's going well without you stomping on my info!” 

Idia let himself openly glare at the heir whose eye widened only for a second before he captured his lips. With reciprocated fervor, they each explored each other's mouth; savoring the taste of raspberry flavoring. Idia reluctantly pulled away tucking his burning face into Malleus’ neck. Malleus conceded.

“Didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

“I-Its whatever. But there are a couple of really determined communities that are really digging to link you to the (L/n)'s disappearances and that turd’s family.”

Idia looked up at him, biting his popsicle for emphasis. Malleus continued to smile, his eyes holding an animosity at the mention of the former. Even when given the juvenile nickname it didn’t quell the furious flame Malleus had. 

“Well, rumors used to be a crime punishable by death for many.”

“No more deaths, it’ll be too obvious. Our best bet is to ruin them with something else. By someone else.” 

He was smirking again,” then I suppose the Shroud genius has a plan?”

Idia gave a toothy smile. “But of course. You’d really think I’d let those neets slander your name?”

Malleus didn’t need to answer. Gave a thankful kiss on Idia’s head before looking over to you, who was laying with your back towards them; arms and legs wrapped around a body pillow with some nameless anime character on it. It gave him that ugly feeling again. 

“Idia. Three things.”

“Yeah?”

Malleus pinched Idia’s side earning a yelp as Idia leans in closer to him. 

“1) I expect you to properly greet me when I return home.”

“With hugs and kisses?”

“With hugs and kisses.”

“Fine. It’ll be cringy though.”

“That’s fine with me. 2) I’m going to shred the next body pillow you gift (Y/n).”

“What?! But they love their body pillow!”

“If it's not gone by tomorrow I’m burning it in the furnace.”

“Okay okay!”

“And 3)--” Malleus snatched the popsicle stick from Idia’s mouth, flinging it perfectly into the trash can beside the bed. 

“No eating in the bed.”

Part 2?

[orange-demons-deactivated2024]

Can you please write some jealousy hcs for sf6 Luke, Ed, Jamie and Bosch? If you want to do different characters that's ok or if they are too many you can just do some. Thank you !!!

fun fact: this was originally supposed to be released 2 days ago but guess who accidentally deleted half of it. :| soo it had to be rewritten again. so sad. also I think you can tell who i like based on the length of the hcs, oops

Luke

For the most part, Luke's a pretty chill guy so things don't bother him as much as they used to when he was younger.

He's glad to see you expand your horizons and meet new people along the way, especially finding new masters to train under.

He wants to see how far you've come from the last time he saw you, so he asks for a quick sparring match.

And you'd exceeded his expectations!

He's happy to see you develop your own style and dominate the streets.

"Woah, you’ve really stepped up your game," he said, genuinely impressed.

One thing though...why do you fight like a certain drunken boxer he knows?

Oh, You're learning under Jamie? Cool. Cool.

He's smiling but you can feel the tension behind it.

Luke is definitely the type of jealous that tries to play it off in a joking manner.

"Let's just say, I've had a couple of run-ins with the guy." he forced a chuckle. "He’s...something else."

“Sounds like there’s more to the story.”

“Maybe there is, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re growing into an incredible fighter, and I’m proud of you for that.” He pulled you in to press a kiss on your temple.

"Thanks, Luke. That means a lot coming from you."

"Anytime," he said, reaching out to ruffle your hair playfully. "And hey, if Jamie gives you any trouble, you let me know, okay?"

"Of course." you laughed, swatting his hands away.

“Come on, let’s grab something to eat. I’m starving, and I bet you could use a bite after all that.”

“Sweet! But you’re buying.”

You're your own person and you get to decide who you want to train under, but it still nags at him from somewhere deep within.

It may sound selfish of him, but he would rather you come to him for your concerns than anyone else. In part as your Coach and boyfriend.

So when other people try to make moves on you, he's internally sizing them up as he gives them a once-over.

So even though he has a smile on his face, it never reaches his eyes.

But he won't bring it up this time since you held Jamie in such a high regard.

And he's not going to hold your hand for every decision you make, but he trusts you enough not to do anything behind his back.

He hates to admit it, but it does tick Luke off knowing that Jamie would rub it in his face in their next encounter, it’s almost inevitable.

So he would have a couple of not-so-nice words for the guy the next time he sees him on the street.

Ed

Ed watched you near the gym entrance as he leaned against the heavy sliding doors. 

You were running late to your nightly meet-ups and you weren’t responding to any of his messages leading up to now. 

He wouldn’t have cared if something came up and you had to cancel your date with him, but you mentioned how excited you were about seeing him today that he didn’t think you would’ve just dipped the last second. 

So he went on a whim and decided to pay the gym down the street a visit. 

And surprise, surprise, here you were. 

You were chatting with, what he could assume was your coach, in the middle of the room. 

Ed’s eyes flickered at the way Luke lightly squeezed your shoulder with a certain fondness in his eyes.

Bastard. 

He didn’t know if you were oblivious or dumb for not noticing, so he made himself known by stepping on the mats in your direction. 

His presence immediately drew your attention and your eyes lit up when you saw him approaching, stepping back from Luke you said, “Ed! What are you doing here?”

“You’re late. We had plans, remember?”

“Oh, crap, I’m so sorry! I lost track of time and…” You sputtered an apology and some excuses that fell deaf on his ears but his attention was more focused on your chummy coach.

Ed's glare could paralyze most people with fear, but Luke observed the exchange with a curious expression.

Realizing you may be having a one-sided conversation you introduced the pair to each other.

Luke extended a hand with a friendly smile. "The name's Luke, I'm one of the coaches here at Buckler's.

"Yeah, I've heard about you." He said, not acknowledging Luke’s hand, which made the former pull back.

"Ed’s been teaching me a little bit of boxing on the side.” You chimed in, wrapping your arms around him. 

Actually, it was a bit odd that he didn’t immediately try to shake you off. But that meant his mind was somewhere else.

"You’ve taught them well, They're lucky to have you as a teacher." Luke replied, adressing Ed again.

“Right…” 

He shrugged the arm you were hanging onto.“You ready to head out?”

“Yeah, just let me grab my stuff real quick then we could go,” you said, giving him a small peck on his cheek before heading toward the locker room, leaving the pair alone.

“Look I don’t know what you’re trying to play at and frankly I don’t care, but it ends now.” 

"Hey, man, I'm not trying to play at anything. I’m just their coach. We keep things professional here." Luke raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"Yeah? Well, you seem pretty damn friendly for just a coach." Ed scoffed, not buying it.

Luke sighed, dropping his hands. "I get it. You’re protective of them, and that’s fine. But you need to trust that I’m not crossing any lines."

"Trust ain’t something I give out easily. And right now, nothing’s telling me you deserve even a lick of it.”

"Fair enough," Luke said, crossing his arms. "But you should know that Y/n’s here because they want to get stronger. And I’m not going to stop coaching them because you’re feeling insecure."

“Insecure? Now you’re just spouting shit.” Ed narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t think so.” Luke hummed.

You quickly reappeared from the locker room with a bag slung over your shoulder. 

“Ready!” You said cheerfully, grabbing Ed’s hand. “Alright, I’ll see you later, Coach!” You called over your shoulder as you dragged the boxer towards the exit.

“Take care. And keep on practicing your footwork,” he gave you a small wave. 

“Oh, and Ed,” Luke said with a slight edge to his tone, making Ed turn to face him, “Take your shoes off the next time you step on my mats, won’t you?”

Ed scoffed, with a smirk tugging on his lips. At least, he ain’t no pushover.

You glanced between the two, sensing the underlying tension but not quite catching the full meaning of Luke's remark.

"What was that about?"

“Nothing, Just gym etiquette."

Jamie

With Jamie, he doesn't get jealous as easily as other people on this list. But he definitely has his gripes from time to time.

Woah, Pulling punches during a dance battle? Didn't see that one coming.

You told him you've been learning boxing from a guy who's been hanging around the beat square subway station, at least three times a week.

He was wondering what you’ve been up to.

Wait, did you say three times a week? That's more than you see him.

What's up with that?

He didn’t mind you picking up new skills, especially with something as badass as boxing, but he missed your late-night talks.

And now, it was basically cut in half thanks to this Ed guy.

So he thinks it’s time to give him a little visit from the infamous Jamie Siu, himself.

"Ah, now I get it." Jamie playfully circled him. "You got the whole bad boy get up and everything, huh?"

Ed looked up from his phone with an unreadable expression, “You gotta problem wit' me or something?” 

"Not at all buddy. I'm just trying to see who Mooncake’s been hanging out with.”

You sighed, telling him that Ed is just your Boxing coach and he’s teaching you how to wield Psycho Power.

Nothing more, nothing less.

After adverting the crisis that was about to break out at the station, you would give Ed a quick apology before leaving with Jamie. 

Ed shrugged, saying ‘whatever’ and went back to his phone. 

You would have to confront him about his attitude later on.

Even if he felt jealous of where your focus was, you’re still learning how to street fight. And he has no right to interfere with your training with your other Coaches. 

He shrugged at your concerns before asking if you wanted to try this new concoction he put together, offering the lip of his gourd to you. 

“Jamie, I'm being serious.” You pushed the bottle back to him. 

“So am I.”

You hardly picked up the way his eyes bore into your soul before he broke into a grin, taking a swig of his drink.  “Nothing like a good drink to ease the nerves.”

When you tell him you’re still upset with him about today, he’ll lean up against the rails and cross his arms. 

Most of his jealousy stems from the fact that you're spending more time with other people than him. And he feels a tad bit neglected.

He’s used to being isolated so the feeling isn’t new to him. But he found himself staring at the space beside him where he expected to find your presence.

The times when you don’t visit him, his mind wanders to the silly little adventures you’d tell him about and the places you get to see around the world.

But you have a track record of being gone for long periods of time and he just waits here, until you came back.

It’s not your fault. He was just being a hard-ass, so he would be the one to apologize. 

"Look, I know you’re still starting out and learning new stuff, which is cool n’ all but I miss our nights together. And if it’s that important to you, I'll back off. Just make sure to stop by from time to-time. ‘Kay?"

“I will…And thanks, Jamie. I really appreciate it.” 

After a beat of silence, you gestured to the gourd resting beside you two. "Now, about that concoction of yours.”

Jamie broke out in a grin, handing it to you. "Prepare to be amazed. The new and improved recipe is made from the ingredients you brought from Tian Hong Yuan. It’s got a kick to it, just like you.”

You both would’ve retired for the night in a drunken stupor, entangled in each other's arms.

He snuggled his face in the crook of your neck with a dumb smile, mumbling how much he loved you.

But next time you visit Ed, Jamie gives you a couple of ‘souvenirs’ to show off to your friend to show who you belong to. 

Bosch

You know, when you decided to stroll through town, Bosch didn’t expect you to pick up another Master.

If anything, he guessed it was your eagerness that made people naturally gravitate to you.

He could tell how much you admired Rashid’s wind abilities and charming personality, but it still irked him more than he cared to admit.

You would spend the majority of your days training and chatting with Rashid, eventually kicking Bosch to the curb.

He knew it was nothing more than a student-teacher relationship, especially since Rashid's wind techniques were something you wanted to master.

And the thing is, Rashid isn’t even a bad guy.

He’s just very charismatic, in a way that can be overbearing at times.

But he still couldn't shake the pangs of jealousy that gnawed at his soul.

With every new move that clicked, you would glance at Bosch to see if he noticed.

He’s at least a little glad you still sought him out, despite your attention being elsewhere.

Maybe that’s why he let it go on for so long.

He’ll sit on his emotions and let the feeling bubble in his stomach before he would ever confront you about it. 

He probably even lets out a few snippy remarks if you keep pushing him away.

He doesn’t mean it.

He never does, but Bosch has never been in a relationship before, so he doesn’t know what to do whenever he felt the burning sensation of jealousy below the surface of his skin.

Bosch sat by the window sill and let the cool midnight breeze brush against his face.

He should've been relaxing, but his mind was anything but calm.

He heard the soft creak of the floorboards as he turned to see you approaching. 

You sat next to him by the window, offering some food you got from the markets. 

Your presence instantly eased his nerves as you both sat in the dark, listening to the distant sounds of the city.

Sensing Bosch’s off demeanor, you asked what was on his mind.

“I’m just thinking.” He said, sipping his drink.

“About what?”

“You.” His eyes met yours, “…and Rashid.”

You blinked in surprise. “Rashid? What about him?”

“It’s just…you’ve been spending so much time with him. I get that he’s your new master and he’s teaching you a lot, but it feels like there’s no time for us anymore.”

"I didn't know you felt that way, but I'm sorry for not noticing sooner." You said aimlessly playing with his hands before tangling them together.

Bosch sighed, looking down at your intertwined hands. "You don’t owe me an apology. I know I’m being hard-headed. I just…I wish I could open up to you more."

"You can always talk to me about anything, Bosch. And you don't need to force yourself to do so for my sake."

He looked up, meeting your eyes again. “I know. It’s just hard sometimes. And seeing you with Rashid, makes me feel...”

“Jealous?”

“It’s stupid, I know.”

"I don't think it's stupid, it's a very human emotion. But I want you to know that no matter what, I'll always want to be here with you."

He hummed, still not taking your words to heart and opting to stare off into the night.

“How about this?" You scooted closer, resting your head on his shoulder, "I’ll set aside more time for us, and you tell me whenever something’s bothering you instead of bottling it up...Deal?”

A smile tugged on Bosch's face as he drew your intertwined hands closer, brushing his lips against your knuckles.

“Deal.”

[mybelovedwoo]

i'm glad i have you with me

bff!san x f!reader

fluff, comfort, childhood best friends to lovers (slow burn) / wc:1.3k

warnings: cheating, crying, swear words, cuddling

note: so tell me how you liked this one. i am a bit nervous because this is my first non-wooyoung fic, but i really enjoyed writing it. please stay tuned in the future for other members' fics too. if you want to be tagged in any of my fics you can apply here <3

san masterlist - main masterlist

Sitting on a couch at a house party all alone with people you don't know, there's literally any other place you would rather be. Originally you came with you're boyfriend Seungjun, but you haven't seen him in hours. You weren't much of a party person, but this time you accompanied him, because he begged you for days for it, but now you are starting to regret it honestly.

You take out your phone from your back pocket, but before you open it, you look around once more to see if your boyfriend pops up somewhere, you are out of luck, so after you unlocked it, the first thing you open is your messages. Your fingers linger over Seungjun's name, but it says he's been unavailable for hours, no shit Sherlock, you think. Instead, you scroll down a bit and open the messages for your best friend, San.

You know well that he probably not gonna answer, because it's Saturday night, and he is most definitely out with his friends too. You don't care, you try it anyway, he is your best chance to rescue you out of this hell. "Hey, San." is the first you send, you're not sure what to write him, you don't want to bother him. "What are you doing?" you wait a few minutes, but he's not responding, his phone is probably on mute. "I'm kinda bored, I don't know where Seungjun went. I need your rescue ㅠㅠ." Nothing, no response. You feel really annoyed at this point, but not because San, poor boy did nothing wrong, it is just a bad moment. "You know what I'm gonna look for Seungjun. Don't worry and have fun." You lock your phone and put it back in your back pocket.

You look around the kitchen, then in the yard, but you don't see him anywhere. You are getting kinda worried that maybe he left you there. At last, you walk up the stairs, the hallway is full of kissing couples, who must have only met tonight. The moment you enter one of the rooms, you regret everything you did until now. Your boyfriend was there with another girl you had never seen before, doing things you never expected him to do with anyone except for you. 

You didn't know what to do in the big shock, but you didn't speak up, maybe they didn't even notice you or just didn't care. But you turned around and hurried down the stairs, unable to control your tears. You just needed some fresh air, you had to get out of this place immediately. You crashed out of the entrance of the house and fell down to the stairs. Sitting there you didn't even think, you were already calling San. This is urgent now.

Your phone didn't even ring for two seconds when they already answered it. "Hey Y/N, is everything okay? I'm sorry my phone was on mute I haven't seen your texts. Have you found Seungjun? Wait, are you crying?" You couldn't even speak, though you wanted to tell him everything. "Y/N please say something! What happened? Are you hurt?" You took three big breaths to calm yourself down enough to talk a few words. "He cheated on me. Could you come to pick me up?" You didn't have to say more. "I've already sat in the car the minute I saw your messages, don't worry. I'll be there soon."

He wasn't lying, he got there in record time. You watched as he pulled up with his car to the driveway of the house. When he gets out of the car, is only when you get up from the stairs you've been sitting on. San rushed towards you at a high speed, so you didn't have time to move even an inch in his way.

"Where is that dickhead?" He asked with blunt words when he got to you. He seemed really angry, maybe even angrier than you, you had never in your life seen him like this before. You shrugged, implying that you don't know and don't care either. But that was not enough for him. "Is he still inside there?" You started to get a little worried.

"I think so. But please don't make a scene, let's just go home." You pulled him through his forearm when he already started walking to the entrance. "Wait for me in the car, okay? I'll be quick, I'm not gonna do anything he doesn't deserve, I swear." He said to you, while he stroked your face with his right hand. You hesitated, but who are you to tell him what to do, so you went up to his car and sat on the passenger side for like five minutes.

At this point you didn't care much about waiting a little longer, that's what you did all night long. San slammed the door behind himself, and somehow he looked even angrier than before. He got in the car next to you and when he looked at you his expression softened. "What did you do?" You asked him with a sobby voice. "I just showed him where he belonged. Let's just say he went swimming." You look down at his hands and you see it's all bruised up.

He started the engine. "San, I don't wanna go home. What if he comes there?" You didn't know what to do, since he had a key to your apartment. You couldn't bare to see his face once more.

"We're going to my place." He didn't even hesitate. You slept at his place many times now, but not since you started dating Seungjun. San was worried when you found out you are going to different colleges, he was afraid that you wouldn't spend as much time together as you used to. But you thought that was nonsense since you have been best friends since you were very little, you grew up together.

He never liked Seungjun, he always said he didn't deserve you. But he was your first boyfriend, and you were blinded with love, at least that's what you thought. Looking back, you also know that he didn't treat you well, but you don't know that when you're in it.

-

Entering San's apartment, all you could think about was that you needed to get some sleep asap. Weariness hit you the moment you got hit by the heat of the comfortable room. You didn't want to bother San with your presence, you don't know what plans he had. 

You've been quite comfortable in here, so you decided to lie down on the couch in the living room. "What are you doing?" Asked San, entering the room with a glass of water in his hand.

"Sleeping. I'm really tired." You mumbled, not able to speak properly.

"You can't sleep here. Go to my room, there is my bed. I'll sleep on the couch." You sat up at his statement. "No, you can't. This is your place." There's no way you letting him sleep out here in the cold living room when he has his own warm bed just a room away. "Let's sleep both in the bed. I think it's big enough for the both of us." You said. It's not like this is the first time you sleep in the same bed, you always fell asleep next to each other when you were little.

"Are you sure?" He hesitated. "We are not so small anymore." The joke made you both laugh, it made his heart clench to see you happy again.

After you took a warm shower, he gave you a big shirt of his and a jogger pant that was definitely too big for you. You got under the cover, San was already there, lying down. He turned off the lamp on the bedside table, which illuminated the whole room until now. 

As soon as it got dark your eyes started watering again, you remember everything that happened today. All of a sudden, you feel a pair of hands slip on your waist. San hugged you tightly from behind. "I got you." He whispered in your ears. He didn't let go of you all night long, you woke up in the same position the next morning.

-

[lonepantheress]

i really love you

☆ pairing: kim gyuvin x reader

☆ genre: angst mostly! rlly not as romantic as i hoped

☆ warnings: yunjin le sserafim cameo

☆ wc: 3.3k

☆ a/n: i feel like i owe 1000 apologies and then some. this is the first thing that i've written in awhile. i know i've been MIA but life has really been chaotic. still i wrote this a few weeks ago and decided just to post since i haven't. i miss this blog and the lovely messages i'd receive. i hope you all enjoy &lt;3.

You were often told that people envied your friendship with Gyuvin. You hadn’t known each other your whole lives, but it definitely felt like it. In fact, you considered yourself lucky to have a connection that goes so far beyond the surface level.

The depth of your bond presented itself in a way you considered unique. It was incredible to have someone who knew everything about you – who wanted to know everything about you. He was your shoulder to cry on and the most reliable person that you knew. You often found yourself with the fleeting thought of What if we were more than just best friends? But you brushed it off before you even gave yourself the chance to entertain it.

Still, it was no question to the people around you that you and Gyuvin were something more than best friends – even without that “Boyfriend-Girlfriend” label.

Which is how you found yourself in this position: You and Yunjin found yourselves in the same boat of “I-haven’t-know-you-my-whole-life-but-I-definetly-feel-like-I-have,” meaning you frequently spent your time with one another, and on a weekly basis you slept over at her apartment and vice versa.

You’d watch movies and do skin care and braid hair, but above all you exchanged secrets. Over months and months of sleepovers you found out about Yunjin’s secret spelling mishap of 8th grade, and she found out about your high school boyfriend who liked to call you “Sugar Plum” unironically. No matter how serious or ridiculous the secret, they came out naturally in the dead of night during almost every sleepover the two of you would have.

“I think, maybe, deep down inside, I am possibly harboring some feelings for Gyuvin.” The confession came out with the same pit in your stomach you get when you’re throwing up. 

You sat across from Yunjin on her apartment bedroom floor with green face masks adorning both of your faces. You couldn’t believe the words that had just left your mouth, your heart raced while you waited for Yunjin to give you some sort of response. When your eyes darted up at her, she looked at you wide-eyed and jaw-dropped. 

The room seemed to hold its breath, almost as if it were waiting with you for Yunjin to say something. You were having one of those heart-to-hearts that you only have in the dead of night, admitting all kinds of secrets that you had to look deep inside to find. Still, upon hearing yours, she blinked a few times as if she was trying to process what she’d just heard.

“Wow,” she said softly, breaking the silence, “I mean, I already knew that! I just wasn’t expecting you to say it!”

You managed a weak smile in return, the corners of your lips shaking with nerves, “Yeah. Me neither.”

“Well? You haven’t said anything to him about it?”

“What? No! Oh god, no. That hurts my head just thinking about it, no. I can’t.”

“You can’t?” 

“I can’t.”

She didn’t understand you, but she understood the weight of your words and decided not to bother you about it anymore. Yunjin reached over and gently put her hand over yours, the warmth of her touch grounded you in that moment. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. You know I’m here if you need anything, right?”

The confession occupied the air between the two of you like a fragile secret. Now, the green face masks seemed oddly out of place. As if the intimate exchange had transcended the triviality of their original purpose. 

Yunjin’s initial shock gave way to a soft smile, her eyes holding a mixture of empathy and understanding. The kind of understanding that could only be offered by close friends – knowing they may not comprehend the depth of your emotions, they will be there for you nonetheless.

You sighed heavily and turned your gaze to the ceiling, letting all those emotions you shoved down take their place in your heart. “I don’t even know what I’m feeling half the time,” you admitted, voice carrying a mix of frustration and self deprecation.

Yunjin chuckled, her eyes crinkled in the corners and the dry mask of her face cracked in sync. “Babe, feelings are messy! I don’t think mine ever follow a logical path.”

“God, tell me about it. It’s just… Gyuvin, you know? We’re just too good as friends. What if I ruin it?”

Your hand received a reassuring squeeze from Yunjin before she withdrew her touch, a pensive expression on her face. She leaned back on her arms, considering your words carefully.

“I mean – I personally don’t get where you’re coming from,” she began, voice gentle, “But think about it this way Y/n: if your friendship is as good as you believe it is, then it’s strong enough to handle some turbulence. Emotions aren’t always predictable, and that’s okay! What if some weird unspoken tension affects your friendship more than your harboring some secret feelings?”

You sighed again, staring at the tiles at the ceiling as if they’d give you the answer after a while. “I know. You’re right. It’s just scary…I don’t even care if he feels the same way, what if things get weird between us?”

Yunjin leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands. “Babe, look, I can’t predict the future. I do know that honesty is the best policy, though. He deserves to know the truth, but you deserve to express your feelings even more! Whether he reciprocates or not, it’s not in your control. What you can control is how you handle this moving forward.”

“You’re right,” you admitted, letting your head down to face her. “I can’t even tell you how long I’ve been avoiding this for. It isn’t fair to either of us.”

Yunjin smiled widely at you, mask cracking more and more. “Exactly! And you know what they say about regrets, right?”

“What do they say?”

“Well.. I don’t really know. But they have to say something about it! Look, if he truly values your friendship then he’ll appreciate your honesty.”

You smiled back at Yunjin, your own mask cracking from the movement in your face. Yunjin stood up and held her hand out for you to grab.

You reached out and took her hand, letting her help you up from the ground. The air in the room felt a little lighter now, as if the weight of your confession had been shared and the burden lessened.

“Come on,” Yunjin said, “Let’s wash these off and then go to bed. We can talk about this in the morning or something. And if things don’t work, I will happily accept a confession from you on his behalf!”

Despite the impact that your much needed heart-to-heart with Yunjin had on you, you still found yourself unable to take any immediate action (or any action at all, for that matter.) In fact, it was more like the opposite. Your behavior took an unexpected turn – one that puzzled those around you. To you, though, it all made perfect sense. You had finally sat down and confronted those feelings that you had long harbored, and you need some time and space to really process it. Particularly, time and space away from Gyuvin. 

You shifted to practically being inseparable from one another to being distant and withdrawn. Those who’d grown accustomed to seeing you two together nearly every day were now met with your fleeting glances and casual avoidance. It was you who’d placed the invisible barrier between you and Gyuvin, leaving him equally confused by your sudden change in behavior.

Though, he didn’t know what exactly caused this sudden shift with you, he wasn’t blind to the cues you were throwing his way. He noticed immediately your short responses (if he had received one at all), and your excuses to avoid making any plans. He saw you take the long way from one place to another and he could only assume it was so you could avoid crossing paths with him. And while the biggest part of him wanted to know why, his brain told him to just let you deal with whatever it was you were dealing with. 

This went on for three weeks before someone decided to mention it. 

“What’s going on with Y/n?”

“What’s going on with Y/n?” Gyuvin scoffed at Matthew’s question and deadpanned, “If I knew that, she’d probably be here right now.”

Matthew raised an eyebrow, “Man, don’t get mad at me. I’m just so used to seeing you guys together all the time. It’s weird to everyone to see you guys apart like this.” Matthew leaned against the table at the campus café that they both sat.

Gyuvin let out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair, “You’re telling me? I’ve tried talking to her but she’s just… distant? I dunno. I can’t put a finger on why.”

“Did you guys have a fight?”

He shook his head, face full of frustration. “Is it bad if I say I wish we did? At least then I’d know what I did. She’s just been acting different. We used to spend hours talking about the dumbest shit and now it’s like pulling teeth to even get a few words out of her.”

Matthew took a sip from his coffee, gaze fixed on Gyuvin, “Maybe she’s going through something! Sometimes people start acting like that when they’re going through something personally. It could be something heavy, and she’s just not ready to talk about it yet.”

Gyuvin frowned at that idea, his mind was racing considering Matthew’s words. What could be so bad that you wouldn’t tell him? “You think so?”

Matthew nodded. 

“I mean.. I don’t know, man. We’re always there for each other. If that’s the case then I wish she’d just let me in.”

Matthew gave a wide, reassuring smile before replying, “Maybe she will, eventually. Just give her some time. Try not to let her push you away completely, keep reaching out. Even if it’s just a, ‘Hey. How’s your day?’ text or something.”

Gyuvin nodded, trying his best not to acknowledge the little pit in his stomach that was gnawing at him, “I’ll do that. But I get to blame you if your advice sucks.”

With the days passing, Gyuvin took Matthew’s advice to heart. He started sending you the occasional message asking about your day or giving you an anecdote out of his. He wasn’t expecting lengthy responses, but he wanted you to know that he was still there regardless of whatever it was you were dealing with.

You, on the other hand, were dealing with all kinds of complex sentiments about your situation. To no one’s surprise, honesty was a much easier concept to speak about than it was in practice. That confession to Yunjin that night had opened a floodgate of uncertainty and fear for you. Part of you had expected your feelings to be reciprocated or to at least be brushed aside as a passing thought, but the reality was much more complicated. You’d unintentionally thrown a wrench in your friendship with Gyuvin, and it was past the point of you knowing how you could fix it. 

You spent a lot of time thinking about it, your situation. You stared at your messages with Gyuvin and wondered if they’d be any different if you were honest. When you’d see him on campus laughing with his friends, your heart would ring itself out. Your close friends could notice the toll that it was taking on you, especially Yunjin. She was the only one who knew anything about what you were feeling, so she was the only one who could try to help.

She noticed how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes anymore, or the heavy sighs that seemed to escape you involuntarily, or the way that you’d space out and think to yourself more often. 

One night, you were both sprawled across her living room couch with a movie playing in the background. The atmosphere was interrupted by the loud chime of your phone. It sat on the coffee table in the center and the screen was lit up with a text.

“Who’s that?”

You both knew who it was. “Oh, probably my mom or something. I’ll just reply later.” You could lie all you wanted, but you couldn’t pretend that your situation wasn’t getting to you. The message was short and sweet, but it made your stomach erupt with butterflies while simultaneously giving you the urge to throw up. Hi, I’m thinking of you. Just wanted to check in and ask you about your day.

“Y/n.” Yunjin spoke softly, but she sounded stern. She wanted you to take her seriously and to let your walls down again.

“Yunjin.” You responded, putting your phone back down and looking her in the eye.

“I can see how much this is bothering you. It’s eating you up inside, isn’t it?” She sat up and grabbed the remote from the coffee table, pausing the movie before facing you again. Neither of you need to clarify what “this,” was because the heavy toll it had taken on your heart was evident to anyone who knew about your feelings.

You couldn’t stop the tears before they began to fall. You could only nod in response, unable to put your feelings into words. 

“Babe, I think it’s time to face this head-on,” Yunjin suggested, maintaining a firm but gentle tone. “You can’t avoid him forever. It’s hurting the both of you.”

“But what if it makes things worse?” You whispered, voice trembling.

“I really, really, really don’t think you’d do that,” Yunjin sighed and faced you directly. “He asked me about you the other day.”

That only made you cry harder, feeling like your heart would just explode in your chest. “What’d he say?” You managed to ask through sobs.

“You know, he just wanted to see how you were. If everything was okay with you.”

“And what’d you tell him?”

“I told him that I couldn’t really say. That you’ll make the time soon to go talk to him.”

“Yunjin…” you trailed off and broke your eye contact with her, feeling embarrassed. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“I’m not saying it’s gonna be easy,” she began, “But, this distance? This awkwardness? It’s not doing you any favors. At least if you talk to him you’ll know where you stand.”

All you could do was nod before Yunjin brought you into a deep embrace, comforting you while you cried on her shoulder.

Over the next few days, you continued to wrestle with the decision of finally facing Gyuvin. The inner turmoil was beginning to reach its peak, you knew that you couldn’t keep pretending like he didn’t exist. Yunjin’s words echoed in your mind as a constant reminder to confront your feelings and put an end to the growing distance between you and Gyuvin. 

One evening, as the sun began to set and cast a variety of golden hues over the city, you found yourself standing in front of Gyuvin’s favorite coffee shop. It was also your favorite, but you’d been avoiding it on the off chance that you’d see him there. Your heart raced as you took a deep breath, trying to summon the courage to go inside. The bell above the door tinkled as you entered, scanning the cozy interior until your gaze met Gyuvin.

He was sitting by the window, engrossed in whatever assignment he was working on, his brows furrowed in concentration. The sight of him sent a rush of emotions through you – familiarity, comfort, and a twinge of nervousness. You scolded yourself internally for being scared to talk to your best friend.

You approached his table, cringing at how loud your footsteps seemed to sound in the otherwise quiet café. He looked up, surprise registering on his face before morphing into a warm smile.

“Hi,” he greeted, closing the books that littered the table and setting them aside, “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“Hi,” you echoed, your voice a little shaky, “Is it okay if I sit with you?”

Gyuvin’s expression to a more confused one, but his smile never faltered. “Of course you can sit with me,” he gestured to the empty seat across from him, “I would actually really like it if you did.”

You settled into the seat, avoiding eye contact with him. The silence between the two of you hung for a moment before Gyuvin decided to speak up, “Is everything okay with you? I feel like I never hear from you lately.”

You took a deep breath, your heart still racing. “That’s actually why I came here. I was hoping you’d be here so that we could talk.”

His brows furrowed slightly and his expression dropped, concern evident in his eyes, “You can tell me anything. Please, talk to me.”

“I really love you Gyuvin.”

Gyuvin smiled earnestly at you, “I love you too. You know that you can tell me anything, right?”

You sighed and looked him in the eye before repeating yourself, “No, I mean, I love you.”

Gyuvin's eyes widened, and he seemed momentarily taken aback by your confession. He opened his mouth to say something but hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. 

You cut him off before he could speak, “I just – I sort of realized it one night and I couldn’t figure out how to face you? I didn’t know how, so I just didn’t. And I know it was wrong and I know I should’ve just been honest with you and I just….” you trailed off and looked for some sign of understanding in his eyes.

There was a passing moment of silence where your eye contact was never broken, but you could feel your heart drumming against your chest while the lights in the café began turning on to account for the lack of the sun.

“I love you too.”

Your eyes widened and you waited to respond out of fear that the butterflies in your stomach would fly out if you opened your mouth. “You love me?”

“I really love you,” he mimicked your earlier statement.

You laughed a bit and let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, reaching a hand out to intertwine with Gyuvin’s. “I was so scared. That by telling you I’d ruin our friendship. That scared me more than anything.”

"Y/n, you have to understand that our friendship is incredibly precious to me, like a guiding light in my life. But you… you're more than that. And now, it's as if our bond is being woven even tighter, stronger, because we're entrusting each other with the most vulnerable parts of ourselves." Gyuvin's voice softened, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "It's a kind of feeling that I never want to lose."

You felt a sense of relief wash over you at his words, tears welling up in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks, “I should’ve talked to you sooner. I’m sorry, I really am.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, wiping the tears from your cheeks with his free hand. “You’re here now. We’re here now and that’s what matters.”

You chuckled through your tears, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “Yunjin was right, you know. She told me I needed to face this head-on.”

“I never thought I’d say this about her, but you have a pretty smart friend,” Gyuvin teased, his smile widening.

You both laughed, the tension in the air dissipating. It felt like a heavy fog had been lifted for the both of you, leaving a clarity that neither of you had seen before. The café seemed to fade into the background as you focused on each other.

“So…” you began, “What do we do now?”

Gyuvin leaned in a little closer, his eyes locked onto yours. “I think you owe me, at the very least, a date for what I had to put up with this past month.”

You nodded, stifling your giggles from him before responding, “I think I can make that happen.”

[seullovesme]

my daisy. » kang seulgi

pairing ⥬ kang seulgi x reader

genre ⥬ fluff (happy late valentines!)

summary ⥬ a girl with brightest smile gifted you a bouquet of assorted flowers for valentines day, bringing life to your world that was once dull and colorless

wc ⥬ 1.8k

'so, i'll just wait for you to bloom' - my daisy (w2e)

dread.

that was the name of the feeling that took over your body as you watched all the couples gathering in the hall, everyone in their own pair except for a handful of people. unfortunately, you were in that select few.

you hated valentines day. not because you hate the idea of love, but because out of all years of your life you never had a valentine. ever since you were a little kid, seeing your parents have a whole day where they showered each other in love like they were carefree made you want that for yourself.

but here you are, standing all alone, surrounded by people who weren't. tsk. it's not like you wanted a valentine anyways. the thought of pretty flowers or sweet chocolates in the shapes of heart, or cute letters that held the feelings of love and admiration, yuck! definitely not anything you desired.. not at all.

you push past the mingling bodies as you mutter curse words under your breath, annoyed by the smell of love in the air. you finally reach the door to your class, but you open it to reveal the class gathered in a circle. it intrigued you for a moment, until you realized who sat in that spot. kang seulgi, that silly girl.

god, how long have you had this crush on her and still haven't tested your luck? whatever, not like it mattered. kang seulgi was everybody's crush at this point, you were one of many. the bear was in the school dance team and she was classified as "hottest girl to roam the school grounds". curse her and her good genes. you didn't even like her for her looks.

you loved her kind soul and cute smile, and she really sealed her mark on your heart when she bought you a new folder with a teddy bear on it because these careless kids thought it was okay to rip your original one. she was one of a kind, but nowhere near your league. she didn't even really know you, you were just another student in her class, your only interactions surrounding school topics. it was whatever, you didn't care for love anymore.

when you peeked over, you spotted a bouquet in seulgi's hands, her eyes closed shut with a frown on her face. the people around her begging her to spill who the flowers were for, throwing out names as well. you felt anger rise in your chest at them clearly ignoring how bothered seulgi was. were they brainless? they should leave her alone.

you were going to walk up and give them a piece of your mind when a friend called your name. you were shocked by how loud she was, feeling embarrassed by all the eyes looking over. you walked towards her, but you were stopped by a hand.

the room went silent for a moment, the sound of whispers breaking it occasionally. you looked at the hand and trailed up their arm, all the way to their face. hm, they looked a lot like kang seulgi. wait.

kang seulgi?!

the girl held the bouquet and gave you a soft smile. "hi, y/n!"

"happy valentines day! i was going to ask you to be my valentine, but i was so scared you were going to reject me." she rubbed her nape nervously and directed her eyes to something off to the side. you just opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water, trying to process this all while thinking of what to say.

your reaction frightens the sweet seulgi, making her sweat bullets. maybe she shouldn't have done this, she was probably making you uncomfortable!

"ahh.. sorry. i thought—i thought that doing this would have been better than asking, but it seems like it was only worse. ahem–" seulgi pushed the flowers out to you. "these are for you. i saw you looking at this flower at the flower shop and i assumed they were your favorite."

you studied the plants she held in her hands, amazed that she figured out your favorite flower, more so that she remembered that you bumped into her two months ago at the shop your friend worked at.

you took the bouquet and formulated the words in your head. "thank you." was all you said as you just looked at your dirty white shoes. you looked up and glanced around when you heard your classmates discussing amongst themselves. you suddenly felt shy under their gaze, particularly the girl who was patiently waiting for you to say something.

"could you.. maybe meet me after school?" you propose, which made seulgi's smile widen as she furiously nodded. you reflected the same expression, smiling at the bear's cuteness. it should be a crime to be so hot and so cute at the same time.

seulgi turned to return to her seat, hopping like a little kid who got candy but only she got something much sweeter.

you waited at the school gate, continuously smelling the delicate flowers. you wondered if your friend crafted the bouquet for her. just the thought of it made you blush like crazy.

"you look like a tomato." you spin in an instant after hearing seulgi compare you to a fruit. you quickly put your free hand on your cheek, trying to cool your face down. "who's making you blush like that? i'll fight them."

seulgi fighting for you? you let out a chortle, covering your mouth at the slipped laugh. she raised a curious eyebrow at you.

you ignored her question and carefully put her flowers into your bag, making sure not to crush a single petal. "i'm serious, i'll fight anyone who tries to steal you from me." she threatens with determination. you're stunned by how straightforward she was, and she saw.

"i mean—if you want to be mine that is." she lets another nervous laugh, rubbing her nape. that was a thing she often did when she was nervous, you picked up from her behavior before. adorable, a nervous seulgi, how funny.

the school crush is scared of rejection too.

"can we take a walk to the park? i just want to talk about, you know, uhm, all of this?" you rushed to say, hoping she could understand your jumbled talk. she nodded and followed your lead as you began walking in the right direction. seulgi just hoped that if you were going to shut her down, that you would let her down easy. her heart could not take the pain of rejection, she could barely handle the thought of you not liking her gifts.

"so.."

"so."

"it was you, by the way." you state.

"what was me?"

"the one who made me blush. it was you.." you felt shy repeating it out loud. "so you don't need to fight anyone."

seulgi's heart was beating so hard that she feared you could really hear it. she made you blush. fuck, she was in deep.

"when did you start thinking you liked me?" you interrogated as you paused at the crosswalk, the light red for pedestrians. you turned to meet her eyes and noticed the small height difference she had over you, the bear was just red in the face.

"i don't think i like you,"

WHAT?

"i know i like you. if you don't believe me, ask my heart." you couldn't help but fold over her cheesy words. if you knew she was such a cheeseball, you would have prepared your heart better. clearly, her effects on you were severe. you plant your face into your palms and turn away from her.

seulgi's shocked by your reaction, but she soon hears your girly squeals. "kang seulgi, where did you learn to be so cheesy?!" you exclaimed. she just watched you in adoration, loving how you were so giddy over two sentences. you cooled down and fixed your posture, trying to look unaffected by her.

"hm, i guess it runs in my blood."

the red hand turned into a green walking symbol, signaling that it was okay to cross. you began walking, yet again stopped by seulgi. she just smiled and grabbed your hand, wrapping it around her arm. you held her arm in confusion. "hold tightly when we cross, okay?"

the same heat creeped to your face once again. you started dragging her, so fed up by her gentleman-like manners. stupid seulgi and her stupid charisma.

you finally reached the park with your arms still linked. seulgi let a small cough out and when she got your attention, you realized you were still tightly holding onto her. you scrambled to untangle your arms, pretending to clear your throat. you watched her carefully set her bag onto the bench beside you, and she reached for the straps of your bag as well.

you let her take it off of you, loving how gentle and kind she was. she just met your eyes with her soft ones.

"well seulgi, thank you for the flowers. i honestly wasn't expecting to receive anything today, i usually don't get anything gifts. i didn't think anyone ever noticed me. i'm not pretty like those girls who fawn over you during your performances, or as confident as those boys would trip over each other trying to be the first to give you a compliment in the mornings." you give an airy laugh, your pained expression seen by the bear.

she was hurt that you didn't see yourself the way she saw you. seulgi stepped forward and wrapped you tightly in her arms, giving her famous bear hug to you for the first time.

"baby, don't you see? i noticed you. you are my pretty girl who sits in the library, falling asleep reading romance novels. my confident girl who hides in the dance practice rooms during lunch, singing and dancing your heart out when you think no one is watching." your eyes widen. seulgi knew you did that?! shit..

"i like you for who you are, so please don't be discouraged by others who could never compare to you." seulgi closes her eyes and enjoys your soft body, tightening her embrace. she feels you snake your arms around her waist. the two of you stood there in such a comforting position.

"baby?" you teased. seulgi whined at that.

"that's all you got?"

"hm.. you called me baby." you whisper, so happy to finally experience a feeling you thought only existed in movies.

"i did. i want to call you that forever, would you let me do so?"

you stayed silent to tease her again. she started to get antsy and tried to wiggle out of your arms to study what face you were making, but you stood firmly, not letting her escape.

"yes. i now declare seulgi as my baby as well!" you yelled. seulgi gasped and spun you in the air, the world's brightest smile on her face.

you looked around and suddenly the sky was bluer and the grass was greener. the color of the flower popped and the world was so colorful. you knew why.

the cause was standing right in front of you, grinning like an idiot. but you couldn't make fun of her when you were doing the exact same.

had to rewrite cuz tumblr keeps eating my posts

[kiragecko]

cherrystainedknuckles

I guess the only problem with being asked to take a “marie kondo approach” is that in order to find any fanfic that appears to be based in actual canon timeline and plot points and characterization (which does exist, and I’m not sure why fanon fans seem insistent that it doesn’t), I literally have to search for hours. I’m not joking, I consistently make fic rec lists, and I have to search for hours and hours for actual canonical basis. same thing with character tags on tumblr.

I’m not saying fanon fans have to stop enjoying fanon or making up their own content. I’m just saying that when the tags used for both fanon tim drake and canon tim drake are the same tag it just becomes incredibly annoying sometimes, and I understand why people who like to engage with canon (me, often) become frustrated

-

I have definitely had periods where I got incredibly frustrated with fanon! Around 2019, I was wondering if I needed to leave the Batfandom, because it had been so long since I read a new fic where the characters felt 'right'.

-

But, if you're willing to, I'd like you to consider what you mean when you divide 'fanon' from 'canon'. Because I struggle to find a hard line between the two, for several reasons:

1. Fandom is transformative. Every fanfic is going to have some interpretation of the source material. The line between what is too much interpretation and what is acceptable is different for every person. For me, I find it can even vary based on writing style or other odd things - lighthearted fic can have more noncanonical stuff in it than heavier fic, and still seem true to canon.

2. 'Canon' is subjective. I do not consider the movies or video games to be 'canon', and it annoys me when things from those creep into the fic I'm reading. (I'm okay with SOME Battinson.) Some aspects of the cartoons are okay. I consider precrisis Jason Todd to be an alternate reality version, but Donna's precrisis origins are more canonical than the dumb retcons. Wayne Family Adventures isn't my main version of the characters, but I'm not bothered if some elements show up in my stories. I'm ignoring most of the nu52, but I like Duke and I'm still watching this new Lian to see what happens. I doubt your divisions are identical to mine.

(Also, some things that I think of as 'fanon' have shown up in nu52 canon! I do not accept them as any more canon because of this.)

3. Most 'fanon' is based on canon. Canon Tim has weird sleep habits. 90s Dick is really lighthearted and joking around some characters in ways similar to fanon. Dick can canonically not be trusted to take care of himself if his mental health gets low enough. Jason likes classical literature. Etc.

These are exaggerated and/or twisted in a lot of fic, but where is the line where they stop being canon? I wouldn't bat an eye at a lot of this stuff, if it didn't show up SO OFTEN.

4. Most 'fanon fans' do know some canon. What line are you going to set where it will be 'enough'. And are they allowed to mention parts of the canon they haven't read yet? Is anyone allowed to talk about Dick's early Robin days, or only the tiny amount of people who have read the golden age stuff? A lot of the 'mistakes' I see are obviously made by people who have read ABOUT canon, but don't know quite how it fits together.

5. 'Canon' is FULL of contradictions. Yes, there are canon events. Yes, there is characterization that is consistent across 3/4s of comics. But. I'm still working on my sidekick timeline. I've devoted days to figuring out ages and passage of time. I've spent over a decade trying to figure out Jason Todd's motivations, and why Tim treats him the way he does. I've read all the 90s and early 2000s CANONICAL character assassination of Jason.

I spent years thinking that Donna's death was almost as foundational as Jason's, only to later discover that I had just happened to read the specific comics that focused on the fallout, and she only stayed dead for a short time. That happens to fans ALL THE TIME! We read a character summarizing an event we haven't directly read, and just accept it as what happened. But characters have biases, and not all writers care about accuracy.

-

I've read some Tim Drakes that I consider to be almost entirely 'fanon'. And quite a few that were so scarily 'canon' that I got chills. (Not all of which were similar to each other.) But the vast, vast majority have fallen somewhere in the middle.

I definitely do not want the responsibility of deciding which ones count as 'canon'! And I think I would strongly dislike anyone who tried to decide for me.

Being frustrated is logical, and I empathize. But the original post was about the impossible expectations some fans feel. The expectation to read thousands of comics, synthesize all the contradictions, and come to conclusions that match the 'true fans'. That's a perfectly reasonable thing to be complaining about.

If that's what some fans are experiencing, of course they're not going to want to engage with canon! There's no way for them to succeed, so why should they even try?

When you join THAT conversation to discuss your frustration about fanon, it strengthens that perception. When you call them 'fanon fans' it emphasizes their belief that you don't think they belong. And rather than trying to change, it's more likely that they'll double down. Canon is full of gatekeepers, so they'll avoid it.

[blazehedgehog]

What do you think of the idea that YouTubers in the 2010s are the reason Sonic had/has a bad reputation?

It's really stupid. Completely unfounded.

You know why Youtubers in 2010's felt that way? Because a lot of people outside of the Sonic fandom felt that way.

I was in high school when Sonic Adventure 1 came out. I got my Dreamcast for Christmas in 1999. Purely by surprise, my brother sent me $200 for Christmas that year after not hearing from him for a decade. I was living in Colorado, and we'd had a white Christmas, meaning the roads were too slick to drive anywhere on December 26th. But I knew I wanted that Dreamcast.

The local Wal-mart was a little over a mile away. So, I bundled up and hiked it. With other money I got for Christmas that year, I had just enough for the Dreamcast, Sonic Adventure, an off-brand VMU, an issue of Official Dreamcast Magazine with a demo disc, and a lightgun -- I'd wanted House of the Dead 2 and I was desperate for a home port of The Lost World.

I played Sonic Adventure all day, every day, for like a week. Some of that was the fault of the cheap VMU I got -- it wasn't even a VMU, it was just a memory card, and it was half the price of the official thing. For whatever reason, Sonic Adventure (and ONLY Sonic Adventure) had trouble saving to that thing. My saves would frequently corrupt and disappear. I didn't mind as much as you'd think. I willingly and happily replayed Sonic Adventure over, and over, and over, and over.

When I got back to school in January of 2000, a lot of other kids had gotten Dreamcasts and Sonic Adventure. And it turned out I was the Sonic Adventure evangelist.

I wouldn't say everyone hated Sonic Adventure, but they were pretty frustrated with it. The main talking point was that there were too many characters in the game and most of them weren't very good. Everyone had their ranking list for who they'd rather be playing as, and universally, everyone just wanted to keep playing as Sonic. Knuckles, Amy, and Big brought up the rear for the most-hated gameplay styles. A lot of kids were saying they weren't even going to bother finishing the game if it meant having to play as Amy and Big.

My point of view was that it was normal. Sonic 2 introduced Tails, Sonic 3 introduced Knuckles, so it makes sense that Sonic Adventure would introduce new playable characters as well. It did little to address their complaints that most of the non-Sonic characters were annoying.

This sentiment never went away. A year later, in 2001, Penny-Arcade, basically the biggest webcomic in the world at that point, awarded Sonic Adventure 2 "the best Sonic game where you do not play as Sonic" award, which was less of an actual award and more of a jab at how Sonic wasn't actually in 75% of that game.

Then the Gamecube ports started coming in, which, if you've watched my Definitive Way to Play series, you'd know that SA1 and SA2 were quick and dirty ports that introduced a lot of problems in visuals, control, and sound. Reviews for those versions deservedly slammed them, citing poor music that drowned out the dialog, rapidly dated visuals, and a generally buggy presentation, on top of all the problems people had with the original Dreamcast releases.

After that, the decline really hit its stride. Sonic Heroes, then Shadow the Hedgehog, then Sonic 06. A real triple whammy of things just getting worse, and worse, and worse. Sonic 06 in particular was so much worse that it hit the fabled point where it wrapped around to being kind of funny for some people.

All of this was YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS before "2010's Youtubers" ever stepped in front of a microphone. Those people were just recounting the lives they had lived.

Anyone who thinks 2010's Youtubers did anything are just revealing how young they were back then, and how ignorant they were about the general temperature of things beyond "after my nappy time and my juice box I'm going to play the colorful animals game, yay!!!"

Before that gets me into too much trouble, I'd also like to say that obviously, times change. Opinions are a fluid thing. There will always be a "younger generation" that thinks about things in a different way than the older generation. Anyone, no matter what era they grew up in, can go back and find some beloved nostalgic classic getting blasted by critics. (For example: recently I rewatched Howard the Duck, a legendary bomb for Lucasfilm, and I loved that movie as a kid)

Loving something that you realize everybody hated when it originally came out is kind of just part of the human experience. A rite of passage, almost. But it helps to embrace that perspective, understand it, and realize you can still keep liking that thing regardless.

2010's Youtubers did nothing except exist.

[pieheda]

So, I realized only after watching the Todd In The Shadows video AND the hbomberguy video that I, too, have caught James Somerton just making shit up.

I’m not going to cite actual video titles because he changes them all the time anyway so why bother, but he has one that’s about Angels in America and Rent. This is my jam, I’m a theater gay, so I watched them - and immediately felt like the main thesis would fail an English 101 class. The thesis was “people have the misperception that Rent was made before Angels in America, and why is that?” which is not a thing that people believe, actually. At least, not people who know how google works and can just look up release dates. I found myself thinking that maybe he and some friends were surprised at this, and he decided it was a widely held misperception. But I kept watching the video, and when talking about how popular Rent was when it premiered on Broadway, he said that it was taboo to even mention AIDS at the time.

That is completely untrue. I was an adult in 1996 when Rent was released on Broadway, and AIDS was no longer a taboo subject in the US. There is plenty of data out there to support this, but I think it’s particularly compelling that in 1993, the movie Philadelphia, about a man suing his employers for firing him upon learning that he has HIV, was an enormous box office hit. It won Tom Hanks and Bruce Springsteen both Oscars, for Best Actor and Best Original Song. The Oscars aren’t very daring, perhaps you’ve heard. They aren’t big on giving out awards for things that everyone is terrified to talk about.

In another video that is cited by Todd in the Shadows, I realized that I had ALSO caught James making shit up in that one. When I watched the video for Red, White, and Royal Blue, James said that all these straight women wanted gay romance without sex and I laughed and said “they most definitely do not want that”, because I’m a fan girl and I’ve seen AO3. No research needed to debunk that, most if not all women who knowingly consume gay romance absolutely want there to be some fucking. The only person who would complain about that would be some exceptionally clueless homophobe who accidentally stumbled into this movie.

Both of those things, when I saw them, made me shake my head and say “that’s just not true.” I even commented on the Rent video.

What I did not do is think hard about what exactly is going on here. My opinion of Somerton went down with each of those discoveries, but it wasn’t very high to begin with; I never have liked his presentation style, because of how often he talks down to the people he’s discussing or to his audience. But frankly, there’s a lot of content out there that plays free and loose with the facts or starts with a bad premise (“people have this misperception” with no evidence of that isn’t far off from “Marvel fans on twitter hate this movie!” followed by only 5 tweets cited in the article). I just accept that people lie on the internet, I didn’t expect better. I didn’t stop to consider that gays really should do better, particularly we should not lie to one another about gay culture and history, and ESPECIALLY not when claiming to be doing what we do for the purpose of uplifting gays. I didn’t google to see if there were other issues with him, because if I had I would have learned about him getting into it with Jessie Gender and wouldn’t have given him a view ever again.

We’ve reached such a garbage state that I overlooked that. Seeing everything he’s done all lined up in these two videos had a real impact on me. Todd is absolutely right that it’s abominable to add to all the misinformation in the world, and hbomberguy is right that it’s particularly egregious for James to rob from gay writers who don’t have the funds and attention that James does. But it’s especially bad to just make shit up about gay history and the current state of gay acceptance, particularly when James constantly had the perspective that it’s always bad and gay men always have it the worst. Most likely the “everyone hates gays like me especially” was a calculated choice to create an attitude of persecution within his fandom so that they would accuse anyone calling him out of homophobia. But misinformation about acceptance is ALSO harmful to our community. It’s harmful to go around believing that people are out to get you when they aren’t. The cost of damaged mental health is ALSO important.

And he coldly exploited that because there’s a stupid fucking app that is tailor made for grifters to make cash hand over fist by confirming their audience’s worst fears and creating new anxieties in them. It’s absolutely ghoulish.

[eightmakesonebraincell]

OKAY SO HI! Hope I’m not bothering and hope your day is going/went well! 💕

Just wanna say love your work so much! The texts are hilarious and your works are *chefs kiss* If they get turned into a movie I’m watching it everyday!

Also I’m just randomly wondering since Y/n and her 8 boyfies decided to somewhat stay in Namhae in “the essence of youth is summers with you” so they’re bound to bump into Johnny at occasionally, how would johnny react to his ex suddenly having 8 boyfriends at once? 😭

Like since he’s a douchesnozle i would think he’d stir some shit up, and how would the boys respond as well lol. Idk cause I’m imagining it and like I can see the boys just end up beating him up lol and idk why I find that funny hehe

Mkay that’s all! Keep up the wonderful work! I’ll definitely read what you release next!!! 💕💕

omg please this made me smile so hard and it is so nice to dive back into the teoyiswy au, because i did not realise just how much i've missed writing about my hot surfer bois 🥹🫶

c/w: unedited 0.8k, half fic half train of thought, explicit profanity, insults, toxic ex

okay first off yall not going to believe me but johnny originally had a redeeming arc planned LMAO his character was meant to be one of those people who become blinded by their desire for the other person and end up making the wrong decisions, and it isn't until after losing that person do they realise their mistakes. so johnny was meant to be redeemed, you guys were meant to apologise to one another, and then get closure on okay-ish terms.

buuuuuut if we're going down the route of johnny stays a douchesnozle, then i think it would be hilarious if he tries to break you up with your boyfies. it goes down like this: johnny runs into you on a date with san at the cafe you've been going with him since you two were twelve, and san is sharing a strawberry dacquoise and a grapefruit ade with you. johnny scoffs at the sight of him feeding you with the fork and is like, "i fuckin' knew it."

you don't notice your ex because your back is facing him, but san definitely does. the next bite he pretends to give you, san moves the fork out of the way at the last second and pecks you on the lips instead. you squeal and ask him, "what was that for?" and san simply replies, "just cause i can," and cause johnny can't. hah.

the boys one; johnny zero.

johnny stalks off grumpy, and lo and behold two days later he runs into you again at the mart filling a whole bag of ice cream to buy (not with your money, of course). but what the fuck? you're with hongjoong, and he's got you all wrapped up with your back against his chest as you both pick out the ice cream from the freezer. you spot the last of the magnum ice cream sandwiches, which you know is yeosang's favourite, so you lean into the freezer to dig it out.

hongjoong steadies your waist when he happens to look up and make eye contact with your ex, and if you notice your boyfriend's hands holding you a little firmer, you don't realise that it's because he is feeling a little possessive. hongjoong makes a show to nuzzle into your neck with fond endearment when you stand back up and present the wrapped ice cream to him, because you're his now, not johnny's.

the boys two; johnny still zero.

it continues like that. johnny keeps running into you around namhae–at the beach, at different cafes, on the streets. he keeps himself hidden, but he sees you with a different boyfriend each time. coincidentally, the boys always manage to spot him, probably because they are always on alert whenever you are out with them. and it always goes down the same. you obliviously glow under their public displays of affection in the form of hugs, kisses, smiles and interlocked hands, whilst your ex fumes away in his anger.

until he cannot take it anymore. it's summer and you're out with all of them at the beach, one of those rare days when you are able to spend time with the eight of your boyfriends together. it's nostalgic lying on the towel with yeosang tracing patterns on your skin, watching your boys toss each other into the water, surfboards long forgotten on the sand near you. a shadow falls over you and yeosang, and when you look up, you're shocked to see that it is your ex.

"johnny," you stutter, because why is he here in front of you? you scramble to your feet, as does yeosang, and he pulls you behind him as he stands in front.

"what the fuck do you want?" the voice doesn't come from him, though. it's san, and the rest of your boys have already made their way back to shore to stand protectively around you the moment they realised who was approaching you.

your ex scoffs with disbelief, "you know this slut is cheating on you all, right? she's cheating on every single one of you behind your very backs and you still want her?"

hongjoong growls dangerously, "you want to say that one more fucking time?"

"yeah," johnny challenges, "she's a fucking slut."

"and you're a fucking idiot because she's dating all of us. she's our girlfriend, and if you fucking dare come close to her or any of us ever again, it won't just be your pea-sized ego that is bruised–it'll be your whole fucking face."

so basically johnny makes a clown out of himself trying to expose you for cheating, only to be told that lol jokes on him you're dating them all and a million times happier than you ever were with him. hongjoong and wooyoung are extremely close to knocking your ex's teeth out, but a single glance from you and your boys have heeled. johnny never bothers you or the boys ever again and you all live happily ever after.

the boys eight; johnny minus eight.

the end :D