#one of DR's points is how it's a long game

[munnmolads]

How did MC's and Rafayel's first meeting go? Theory and Analysis

Death and Rebirth gave new vital information about MC's past and it inevidably got me thinking about MC's and Rafayel's true first meeting in the game. When they met at the beach as children? What state Lemuria was at that point?

Spoilers for entirety of Rafayel's story and the main story in Under Deepspace, Land of Secret Flames and Death & Rebirth. Also, a TL;DR at the end.

This theory only touches the side on if they met on the current timeline as kids - my brainpower won't be enough for the 5D chess this game has if it would be in another timeline...

MC's childhood around the Chronorift Catasptrophe

I think we have to start from MC's own timeline since it's "most clear" at this point. Meaning, it still has quite a few gaps, but there starts to be a somekind of timeline of what happened during her time at the Gaia Research Center and when she got to home with Josephine.

I have summarized my points in a timeline, but just so you can see the dialogue and references to it, I have collaged them first with highlighted the important parts:

I'm not going into the details what the other LI's have done to help her since it's not truly relevant to Rafayel. To my understanding, this is the timeline of how her childhood with the details of which day was in question. Only thing that bothers me is that apparently MC was still years in Gaia Research Center before they

It's unknown which day exactly the Chronorift Catastrophe happened - I'm thinking about 43 since we don't have entries after 42, but it could be something in between 42-47. MC was found by day 49 and Josephine mentions about it being several days that she was missing after the Catastrophe. So, she was missing around a week.

All in all, her experiments took atleast 42 days (~1,5 months), and she started to stabilise at 134 days, so three months after her escape.

Possible timing for MC and Rafayel's meetings from her perspective

Before Death & Rebirth, I was almost certain their meeting happened before Chronorift Catastrophe. At this point, it seems quite impossible since to my understanding, MC was trapped in Gaia Research center the moment she got into this current timeline.

So with the information we currently have, there's 3 possible timings for their meeting:

During the week when MC was missing and got to the shelter

Sometime during those 3 months when she was still recovering

Much later than Chronorift Catastrophe, possibly early 2035

Now, we have to take into consideration that MC forgot Rafayel completely. It's not even the case of "You're familiar" (which reminded me of one of earliest theories/headacanons in my blog) kind of way - she has no recollection of it. According to Josephine's notes, she started to have better memory after 3 months after Chronorift Catastrope, which makes me believe number 3 is out of the question by that logic, but I'll come back to it later.

Number 2 is quite likely, but from the small bit we know of their conversation at the beach, Rafayel mentions "we have known for a day". To me, this means atleast some significant time from the day, like atleast a few hours. This is a long time to be away from home as a small child, since MC was around 7-8 years old at this time. it seems less likely since someone like Josephine or possibly Caleb would have come looking for her.

Number 1 seems most likely to me when we think about the circumstances during that time from her perspective. MC was missing at this time, so no one was really missing her to come home, and it's in the timeframe when her memory was the worst.

But what about Rafayel and Lemuria? What state Lemuria was in this time?

In relation for Rafayel, there's an important even to think about when placing MC's and his first meeting in a timeline - when Lemuria got unearthed and discovered in December 31st, 2034. I will try to do a different theory on what happened back then some other time, but it is most likely the point when Lemurians had to flee Lemuria.

Since we know for sure that Chronorift Catastrophe happened in 2034 and Lemuria was unearthed in 31th of December 2034, it's more likely that MC's and Rafayel's meeting happened before Lemuria was discovered in 2034, depending on when the experiments happened. It could be that Chronorift Catastrophe and the earthquake happened at the same time, but it hasn't been mentioned specifically.

Option 1: Their meeting happened in 2034 before Lemuria was unearthed and discovered

The newest birthday event and card could allude that they met in the beach before Lemuria was unearthed. There's several points in the birthday materials about Rafayel talking about how pink is representing happiness and romance for him when he was a child, and before Lemuria disappeared, the ocean looked pink to him.

I can't have all the materials mentioning pink in this post because it's just too much, but here he talks about collecting pink seashells as a kid to make paint in Boundless Seas:

His birthday video specifically spoke possibly of the time when Lemuria was unearthed - I wonder if the inferno he mentioned would have been actually been from Chronorift Catastrophe?

I want to point out that this heavily relies on the birthday events and all other his childhood memories being from this current timeline. It could very well be that they aren't.

Option 2: Their meeting happened because Lemuria was unearthed

If we assume the pink theory about Rafayel being from other time than current timeline, it could be possible Lemuria being unearthed made Rafayel drift into the beach. If we look back on Nightly Stroll, Rafayel does make 2 different points about their meeting that might be true: 1. MC rescued him 2. He was "half-dead"/injured and waiting to die. He is a very unreliable narrator during Nightly Stroll, so it could be just part of his story he made up, but Rafayel does usually hide nuggets of truths in his lies.

He mentions about the deep sea becoming a prison for him. It could mean a metaphorical prison - he has a responsibility to save Lemuria, and that responsibility shackles him so that he feels he has to either choose Lemuria or MC.

In Land of Secret Flames's flashback memory, young Rafayel says "You awakened me", which has an interesting wording. It could imply that MC woke him up from his slumber, which is the Sea God's "death". It could be that Rafayel died at the beach before MC woke him up again, or that he was slumbering in the Lemurian ruins when the earthquake and the tsunami washed him to the shore.

What about MC's field trip to Hat Island? Could that have been a possible meeting place for them?

Possibly, but unlikely. The way how MC describes the trip sounds like a school trip, which would mean that she really wouldn't have had the time to sit in the beach talking to Rafayel for a day (or cuddle him if his annoyance at chapter 8 is telling anything...). Not to mention, she forgot about Rafayel, so why she would remember making the trip and not meeting a boy with scales in the island? Also they made a travel log, which would mean that she possibly would have written about it to her log.

I am ready to eat my words since there's some poetic sadness about Rafayel taking her to the place they were supposed to meet and she doesn't still remember them meeting there. No wonder Rafayel is upset - she remembers visiting some place as a kid but not remembering meeting her husband during that trip? Smh... /lh

Where did they could have met then?

So far we know that their meeting was in a beach, and so far I have assumed it was Linkon. This got me thinking though - if MC was experimented in the current N109 zone, how she would have got to Linkon as a small child if they met during the time she was missing? The distance from N109 zone and Linkon is quite big, even if we aren't completely sure how long it takes. I assume Josephine took her to live in Linkon.

The Lemurian ruins lie somewhere in Southeast of Linkon, which most likely is where Whitesand Bay is. I made a smaller post about it earlier, so you can read a bit more here. In Death & Rebirth, it has been specified in the opening chapters that MC drives to south from Linkon.

So I assume that the ocean from southeast of Linkon goes across to N109 zone, it's completely possible for Rafayel to drift to Whitesand Bay or a beach in the N109 zone. So for them to meet during the week of MC being missing, they might have met in the N109 zone. Most likely if they met later, it would have been Whitesand Bay since MC would have lived with Josephine and Caleb.

I tried to make more accurate map, but based on the visuals of the Hat Island, it's almost impossible to figure out which direction is which, so just take this map as a "general direction where everything could be". Most likely the distances are still quite great, so it's likely that Rafayel was pushed by the ocean to the beach where he got stranded.

TL;DR: What could be the options?

From earliest to latest:

MC and Rafayel met in the N109 Zone beach during the 7-day period after Chronorift Catastrophe when MC was missing.

MC and Rafayel met in Whitesand Bay after MC had moved to Linkon with Josephine (and Caleb) during the 3-month period when MC was slowly getting better memory.

MC and Rafayel met in Hat Island long after the Chronorift Catastrophe happened during a field trip. MC remembers going to the trip, but doesn't remember meeting Rafayel.

I'm actually really torn between all these options. Number 1 makes the most sense to me if we assume that Rafayel's stories about his childhood are from this timeline and Lemuria hasn't been unearthed yet. Number 2 makes a lot fo sense sense too, and it could be both before the earthquake or not. Number 3 makes most sense after the earthquake, because at this point it sounds like MC was having fairly "normal" life if she was on a school trip. I find it just bit difficult to believe she would remember the trip, but not Rafayel.

Of course, nothing prevents the options going together as in their meeting happened long after Chronorift Catastrophe, I just wanted to simplify the options for readability.

All in all, I'm putting way too much logic in this game 🫣 I want to delve deeper into the eartquake that is mentioned, because I find the wording around the topic interesting and how they dance around how vague it really is. Aaand assuming that their meeting at the beach actually happened in this timeline, and not on any other timeline...

[rainofthetwilight]

need people to look at this tweet because oh my god, FINALLY someone said it

[wheelercore]

Theory with no coherent proof on my part: brenner only visibly ages rapidly when a portal is open.

[kakusu-shipping]

yo! 📖, 🗺️ and 💌 for your danganronpa s/i(s). feel free to pick the selfship on the last one!

I am once again... forced... to answer an ask with.... Well I have multiple Self Inserts for that Fandom you see... and I'm very bad at choosing anything ever so we're just gonna talk about all of them and here's my half finished redesign of all of them just to have in one place

📖 - What is your s/i's backstory? How does it make them meet your f/o(s)?

Danganronpa 1 and 2's S/Is are twin brothers who together make the Ultimate Collector, in a canon timeline only one of them gets into Hope's Peak, in my happy school life AU they both get in. V1 joins class 78 and during his school life there starts the anime Club with Hifumi and Celeste. V2 joins class 77 and mostly stays isolated from everyone until Teruteru takes an interest in him and starts talking to him.

In UDG V2 takes the place of Komaru, having escaped his room first and running into Byakuya, acquiring his gun, and eventually running into Toko

For DRV3 I'm still very eeeeeeeh on how exactly the story goes, what I consider the truth vs lies, and just how I want my rewrite to go, so everything about The Ultimate Baseball Star V2 is pretty undecided. He seems to bond with Ryoma over some pretty heavy criminal charges, however.

💌 - Any major changes in your selfship lore over time?

Oooh yeah, lots. Especially to V3 as mentioned above it's hard in WIP territory and has been for a WHILE but that's mostly because V3 is a VERY weird game.

Other than that, as time has passed I've cared a lot LESS about DR2's killing game and have basically written all of Collector V2's lore around my Happy School Life AU or UDG.

The only one who hasn't changed story wise is V1, but she HAS gone through a LOT of design changes. She was originally a lot more geisha styled, lots of make-up and such, and has sense become more calm Decora and Cluttercore

🗺️ - If your s/i is used for multiple f/os, how would all the timelines look if displayed together?

I'm gonna do what you did for this one and put it under a cut so this post doesn't get so long. Please excuse my horrid handwriting

[midnightwind]

I have a morbid curiosity to know just how many Crows are part of House Dellamorte at the end of the game

[producedbysohyun]

Cuddling

Squid game x reader hcs

Summary: How the people in squid games would cuddle you (separate)

Includes: Thanos, In-ho, Se-mi, Dae-ho, Myung-gi, Jun-ho, Hyun-ju, Mi-na (non!squid game au)

Warnings: might be slightly suggestive at some points.

masterlist

a/n: I love writing these so much! I hope you guys enjoy them as much as I do!!

Thanos

Get ready to be crushed

Lays on-top of you

And does not let you get up for anything

“Let me get up for a second I-“

“No.”

While laying on-top of you he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck or chest

If you do end up getting up he whines until you lay back down

Type of Bf to use your butt or thighs as a pillow 😔✊

Randomly bites you

Has cute aggression 100%

Very deep sleeper

Moves so much in his sleep so if you guys fall asleep cuddling at least one of you is gonna be upside down when you wake up

Will give you pda anytime anywhere he does not care

I’m literally Dr. Seuss

In-ho

Not very big on cuddling

He tolerates it for you tho 😚

Even tho cuddling isn’t really his thing he LOVES when you sit on his lap

Especially when you’re facing him

Also likes when you lay on his chest

Literally just lets you cling to him and do whatever

Acts like he doesn’t care for it but we all know the truth

When he’s tired he just completely lets his guard down

That will probably be the only time he initiates cuddling

Other wise you’re kinda on your own 

Se-mi

Loves laying on your chest !!

Gives you neck kisses when she’s the big spoon 😏

Also a biter

Likes to have you on her lap

Touches your tummy while cuddling

you cannot stop her 😡

Clingiest Gf you can have !!

Takes every opportunity to hug you from behind and just stays like that for as long as possible

When you lay on her chest she likes to play with your hair

Another deep sleeper

Girl will not wake up for anything

If you are in bed with her you better be ready to never leave the bed again once she gets her hands on you

“Babe I need to get up”

“Five more minutessss”

Dae-ho

Most cuddly person ever

Big spoon !!

not so secretly likes being small spoon sometimes

Either rests his head on-top of yours or in your neck

If you guys fall asleep like that expect not to be getting up at all

Literally has a death grip on you

Lays his head on your thighs or chest pt.2

Will fall asleep immediately if you start playing with his hair 🙁

HATES sleeping without you

The lightest sleeper ever

If you softly shake him awake he will either have a dramatic mom reaction or he’ll just be confused asf

My babbyyyyyy

Myung-gi

Struggles to sleep if you aren’t next to him

Religiously the big spoon

He likes to put his hands up your shirt while cuddling and his excuse is

“My hands were cold 🙁”

“Damn right they are 😡”

Yaaaa we all know his real intentions ✊

Neck kisses pt.2 !!

Another one that uses your thighs as a pillow

Moves a lot in his sleep as well but stays holding you the whole time somehow

Loves you being on his lap pt.2

The type to rub your thighs while watching a movie or some sht😭😔🙁😭😡😔😔😡

I want him so bad

Gives you so much kisses !!

I need someone like him omg 😔

Jun-ho

Loves cuddling face to face if that makes sense 😭

Likes to hear about your day while just holding you

Listens intently and plays with your hair as you speak

He also enjoys when you lay on his chest

The weight of your body calms him down and he feels better knowing you’re safe in his arms

If he’s feeling extra vulnerable that day he’ll lay his head on your chest

Probably gets super exhausted after work sometimes so he just falls asleep the second he gets home

and when you join him in bed he immediately wraps his arms around you

Overall I don’t think he’d be to big on cuddling but he also wouldn’t mind

Hyun-ju

She’s just a big teddy bear

Especially when you’re alone with her

She isn’t too big on pda so in public she probably just sticks to holding your hand

But in private you’re getting cuddles, kisses, you name it

There will be a lot of giggling going around

Loves if you braid or play with her hair while cuddling

Lets you try out new hairstyles on her to see which one looks the prettiest 🤭

Loves when you lay on-top of her

When the both of you go to bed she HAS to be touching you

No matter if it’s holding hands or being straight up on top of eachother

Poor girl just needs you 😔

Mi-na

I feel like she wouldn’t really care for being touchy with anyone but if it’s her s/o

Sign her up !!

Definitely small spoon

She wants to be treated like a princess 😋

Puts her legs over your lap and just pouts at you till you rub them

If she’s feeling a little frisky she’ll get you to put your head on her chest and then just cling onto you

Loves giving you kisses !!

ugh I want her

Cannot fall asleep if you aren’t in bed with her

a/n: hii! I hope you guys enjoyed thissss! (If you’ve made requests it might take awhile for me to get to them I’ve been busy lately I hope you understand!) (reqs are currently closed)

[haztory]

where you are.

— continuation to bias. (yes, i am making a series. yes, i am making us work for it) — jack abbot x fellow f!reader; attending/fellow dynamic, age-gap (unspecified but reader is late 20s and up, jack is mid 40s), heavy plot, slow-burn, angst, mention of patient death, gore, medical descriptions, descriptions of c-sections and premature birth, medical inaccuracies, jack and city girl being a formidable unit together in the ER then a LONG stint of pining, yearning, and embracing of domesticity, these two taking care of each other without realizing, please heed the warnings there are descriptions of invasive and traumatic birth — word count: 4.5k — summary: The sight of you instills a relief akin to a cool splash of water on Abbot—something he notes and stores on the shelf of things to deal with later. A shelf that is starting to pile up these days with things he’s avoiding. Things that all, concerningly, relate to you.

masterlist

The night had been going fine up until this point. Maybe it was that faulty line of thinking that led to this. The sudden implosion, the shatter of the steady. 

Jack isn’t one to brag much about himself. There’s no grand honor in being a doctor. Private practice, sure. Maybe. In the ED, it's shit work in shit situations where actual shit may or may not be involved. He’ll tell that to anyone who asks. When the inevitable question comes—are you any good at it?—he’ll shrug and tell them, depends on the day. 

He’s seen enough, done enough, worked with little more than two plastic straws and a boning knife to do a crike in the middle of a firefight in Afghanistan. He knows his way around the block, and can do more than the average ED can—that he will admit. But it's still a shit job sometimes. 

He hates all of the tragedy that rolls through the doors. They all eat away at the sinews of the mortal coil, but pregnant traumas? They get to him. It’s unsteady ground, the one type of call that he’s always shown a physical reticence to handling. 

There’s too much variability, too many unsuspecting errors, too much divided attention in the multidisciplinary approaches where focus has to be split for the sake of mom and baby. Crack open a body and you’re in for a world of hurt. Throw pregnancy into the mix, and now you’re one step away from God’s door asking what kind of games he’s playing. 

Aching despair is wedged in each part of an obstetric trauma that makes someone as battle tested and weathered as Dr. Jack Abbot sweat and cringe with a grief too profound for words. 

They wheel the young woman into Trauma One and the adrenaline surges through him like a needle straight to veins. His eyes, cold and hurried, press into Lisa. A terse instruction is barked out, your name in his lips.

“Get her in here now.”

Lisa is quick on her feet, stepping out of the OR to find you just as he cuts open the young girl’s shirt. In his survey of her body—the distended stomach dark with bruising from her injuries, blood staining every part of her body, most notably her inner thighs—his eyes find her face, shining a light in her eyes. 

The pupils remain unilaterally fixed in their dilation, non reactive. And it’s then that he notices how much of a child she looks. 

The sudden slam of the trauma doors welcomes you into the room, a rush in your step as you tie the surgical gown behind your back. A readied focus on your eye. The sight of you instills a relief akin to a cool splash of water on Abbot—something he notes and stores on the shelf of things to deal with later. A shelf that is starting to pile up these days with things he’s avoiding. Things that all, concerningly, relate to you. 

“Tell me.”

A resident presents with speedy construction as Jack oversees the tracheostomy. Young female ejected from an MVC, tachycardic, extensive blood loss and apparent extreme cardiovascular collapse and hypoxia. Non reactive pupils indicating neurological nerve damage. EMTs conducted an ultrasound to confirm pregnancy and baby’s length at 30 weeks. Dr. Hudson, the OB-GYN specialist, is on the phone, her own hands wrapped up in an emergency delivery upstairs, asking for details just as they’re presenting them to you. But there’s value in having you in the room—you’ve told Abbot enough about your New York residency. He knows just how much knowledge you have in obstetrics for this. 

The decision is made by you without further delay. Sure and serious. 

“We’re getting this baby out, now.” Your suggestion meets no rebuttal from Dr. Hudson over the line.

“CT has been ordered, we’re next in line.” Dr. Basu, the attending surgeon, speaks from the side of the bed.

“For it to confirm what we already know and waste more time?” You explain, not meanly. Just direct, intense. “We’ve got vaginal bleeding, likely dealing with placental abruption and the longer we wait, the longer the baby is not getting oxygen. We get this baby out now or we lose both of them.”

Dr. Hudson’s voice rings on the other end of the line, “I agree. Keep me updated.”

Abbot’s a good soldier, takes direction without problem. He’s heard your directive loud and clear, the specialist’s agreement is just icing on the cake. 

“You heard them. Let's move.”

You fall beside him in perfect time, meeting his movements quickly as skin is cut, hands move, and a baby—small, pink, and too pure for how he’s born—is introduced to the world. 

The baby is passed to a resident for care, a separate team filling up the connecting OR to secure baby boy before getting him up to NICU. Your attention remains fixed on attempting to stabilize mom, or at least getting her stable enough to be put on life support so that her family can see her and make the call. Jack is by your side, equally intent as you. Grounds his feet to the floor, keeps himself firm as you speak directions to one another, pass steady compliments at performance, grit out expletives of frustration.

Intent to share in the dread of this one. 

It’s not going well. The injuries are so severe, compounding on each other that right when you think you get something halfway resolved, another crash of vitals sounds through incessant beeping. 

He says your name softly, an hour and fifteen minutes into the procedure, after her pulse is lost for the third time and three units of O-Pos have been pumped through her. A gentle echo in the orchestra of chaotic beeps. You look at him, blood staining your forearms, sweat beading on both of your foreheads, the dismay creasing on your face mirrored on his own. 

“Anything else you want to try?” He asks. It’s not a test of knowledge, a sudden pop-quiz from your attending, but true deference. 

You hardly imagine he’s had to do many emergency c-sections on the floor, much less when he was on the field, but seeing the monolith of a man equally lost like you is hard hitting. You shake your head, tired.

“Call it.” He gently issues.

“Time of death, 3:07.” The words heave out of your mouth in a shuddered breath. It’s through shot nerves and sheer adrenaline that your hands shakily pull the bloodied gloves off of them. You toss them to the floor in defeat as the respiratory therapist stops her manually pumping of the bag valve mask and Lisa shuts off the monitors. 

It’s the same punch to the gut every time the words are uttered. You still struggle to get used to it.

“Thank you all for your work on this one.” Jack says to everyone in the room. The team seems to deflate at his words, solemnity a gaseous cloud that poisons the crowd. 

“Let’s take a moment and honor her and the life that was here.”

It’s a tense and desolate moment of silence. They always are. It’s broken by the sound of the sneakers in the hallway and the opening of the operating doors. 

“Dr. Abbot—” Bridget’s whisper stirs the room, “Your patient in two is vomiting.”

That’s all that can be afforded. The room breaks, everyone filtering out as the world continues to revolve beyond this room. As everyone makes out for the doors, he notices you stay. Staring. Reviewing. 

Going through it all over, and over, and over again. 

“We did everything we could.” He calls to you, ritualistically. Because it’s the right thing to say, not necessarily the one he believes.

“I know.” You tell him, because it’s true, but not because you believe it. You stay focused on the girl’s face, childlike features marred with contusions. “I just want a moment.”

“Course.” He offers quietly, “Anything you need.”

Your lips tilt at the shared mantra, a settled phrase that you find each other saying more often these days. You nod, appreciatively at him, your blessing for him to take his leave. Still, he hesitates. Holds. Waits. Staying close in case you voice a need—in case you say you need him. 

He forces himself out of the room before he makes a fool of himself. 

—

Abbot finds you in the aftermath. When a clean blanket is covering the girl's face, and she’s been wiped of the blood and fluids, and moved to an observation room waiting for her family’s arrival. After you both have moved forward through the night in other cases. He finds you outside of the vending machine, your gaze stuck flicking between the number of options.

“You’re supposed to put money into the machine in order to get something out.”

The sound of his voice hardly surprises you, even from behind. Almost like you anticipate him throughout the night, expect to find him somewhere nearby—these days, you practically hear him in the swirl of your own thoughts. Guiding you, teasing you, comforting you. 

“I’m fighting a battle against the urge to gorge on chocolate.” You tell him succinctly, eyeing the trail mix hesitantly.

“How’s that going?”

“I’m losing.”

He huffs a breath then pulls out his card from his wallet. He steps up behind you, close enough where his chest brushes your shoulder as he reaches around and taps it against the machine's card reader. You don’t move from the innocent meeting of your bodies, out of some curious interest in seeing if he will. 

He doesn’t. You shove the desire to lean into his subtle touch with a ten-foot pole, beating it until it's nonexistent. 

He punches in ‘B6’ on the keypad without hesitation and watches as a Snickers bar is dropped from the rack. He bends down, reaching his hand through the slot and raises back up with a grunt, handing the chocolate bar to you.

Your stare is scolding, but you take the bar anyway. Ripping the wrapper and taking a bite of the candy. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Cushion before the blow.” He warns. Your chewing slows, eyes widening in dread at him.

“Our pregnant mom’s parents are here.” Jack explains and you sigh heavily. “She was sixteen.”

Solemnly nodding, your eyes find comfort in fixating on the tile floor. “We have her name?”

“Kerina Jackson.”

“Okay. I’ll head over now.”

“You want me in there?”

“No. I made the call, I can do it.”

“I don’t mind.”

He watches you think for a moment. Weighing the pros and cons of it all, before you meet his gaze. Looking into him as if searching for any insincerity or any indication that he might take your acceptance as weakness. 

Finding nothing, you nod slowly. “Yeah, okay. Please.”

The walk to the observation room is harrowing. Your candy lays half eaten in your hand before you eventually tuck it into your pocket, appetite lost. You both convene one final look at each other at the door—a quick check-in, an agreement to step in before doing so. Jack moves, his hand on the handle of the door and holds it open for you, following in after you. 

You speak first, introducing the both of you to the parents as the doctors responsible for overseeing their daughter. They hang onto your words with fevered worry. You tell them the outcome as softly as you can. Life shatters for them in an instant. 

Through their heaves and sobs, you manage to croak out. “The baby is stable, for now. He’s been sent up to NICU for care. One of our nurses can take you to go see him.”

“And our daughter, where is she?” Her father asks. 

Jack speaks then, “We have her ready for you in an observation room. You can see her whenever you’d like.”

“I speak for Dr. Abbot and I when I say that we are so sorry that this has happened.” You continue. They ask a few questions—what killed her? Severe blood loss. Blunt force trauma. How long were you operating on her? An hour and fifteen minutes. Are you sure you did everything you could? No. But that part stays quiet. 

The room descends in a choked mood. Tempered by the soft sobs to two mourning parents who have no questions to ask but to the God that decided to take their child. 

“We will be here for any other questions you have or help you may need.” Jack speaks amidst the tears. There’s gratitude at his insertion as you find yourself at a loss of what else to say. But Jack knows. He always knows. “If you let one of our nurses know, they’ll come get us.” 

His hand rests on the small of your back as he guides you both out of the room. It’s a welcome feeling, a steady rock on shaky ground. As soon as the touch is there, it’s gone. He’s rounding on you, staring intently into you. 

“You good?”

“No.” You shrug. “You?”

He crosses his arms, tendons in his forearms stretching for a moment as he opens and closes his palms. For a moment you see the sliver of the man—the one that is becoming more and more familiar to you. That he’s revealing slowly, a new crack into the armor each time you happen to be around when these things happen. Weary and upset in a way that stretches beyond anger at the unfairness of life. Targeted almost in judgement, in disappointment at choices—his and beyond. 

It touches depths of sadness and hurt in ways that he doesn’t often let show. Visible only in the slow nod of his head and the downturn curl of the corner of his lips. 

A slew of questions sits in his mind—What was she doing out on the road so late? What did she run into? Why wasn’t she wearing her seatbelt? Why the fuck was she pregnant at sixteen? Each is more devastating than the last, sticking a knife into his back and drags down, down, down the seam of his skin until he feels like he’s split into two.

His leg aches, loudly, but admitting that is forsaking a life that this young girl doesn’t get to have anymore. 

“Gotta keep going.” He says, plainly. But his lips curl downward and his stare says more than he thinks it does.  

Your fingers itch to grab onto him and hold him tight.

—

The sun rises slowly and with it comes the harrowing end of the shift. It couldn’t have come sooner.

You should run—make for the streets of Pittsburgh and never turn back. Let your heart race in adrenaline from something other than tragic chaos. Run for nonexistent hills that whisper a promise of calm and levied bliss as you leave PTMC and all that it holds. It’s an amusing thought. If you were stronger, more committed, you would. But the clock ticks past your scheduled exit time, your bag slung over your shoulder and yet, your feet remain firmly planted to the ground at the loading bay. Stuck, held, waiting. For something.

A sign, maybe. A reminder of why you’re here. 

“I need a beer.” 

Much like he’s done all night, Jack sidles up beside you. Appearing out of thin air and standing next to you. You’re brows furrow in question, having thought he had made for the rooftop like he usually does after a long shift. 

“Isn’t it too early for that?” You ask. 

“Never too early for a good thing.” He shrugs. “Isn’t that a ‘city that never sleeps’ specialty?” 

“Touché.” You nod in concession. Silence befalls the two of you as the world sounds around you. Cars drive by as people wake up, sirens from an ambulance ring only a hair’s width away. The air is cool on your skin and you take the moment to breathe. The urge to run wanes, slightly. 

“I’ve got some beer at my place.” You offer, casually. “Wanna head that way?”

Jack turns to meet your gaze. It's an innocuous invitation, smeared with exhaustion and nonchalance. Nothing untoward. Like you wouldn’t be offended if he didn’t take you up on it, just as you wouldn’t make it a big deal if he did. Your thumb points south, gesturing to your apartment, the complete opposite direction of his home. 

He tilts his head after a thoughtful moment of consideration. “You take the train?”

“Bus.”

“Fuck that. I’ll drive us.”

— 

Your apartment is deep in the strongarm of the city, right at the crossing between loud and hectic, and just past the Allegheny River. The building is as quaint as it is quiet, which isn’t saying much. A big, tall eyesore and Jack can’t help but scoff. 

City girl staying close to what she knows.

He follows, woefully out of his element, as you guide him past the concierge and through the modern and minimalist decor of the lobby into golden elevators. You press twelve on the buttons and the elevator ascends in a quiet hum—lulled only by the whir of the machine. 

Comfortable silence emphasizes the line that’s been drawn in the sand. Work staying at the steps of the hospital, far from a desirable topic of conversation, even farther from being a worthy disruption of the tranquility. Rehashing the night, wondering what could have been done differently is a task you both save for personal time in the privacy of your spaces when no one else is looking. 

“Bienvenido a mi casita.” You sing, tired and a feeble attempt at jovial, as your keys unlock the apartment door. 1224, he notes. Puts it up on the crowded shelf with everything else about you he pretends he isn’t storing. He steps inside, eyes scanning the home with barely concealed interest. 

It’s a small space, clean—save for the mail you have scattered on the counter and the stray bottle of cleaner that you have yet to put away. The apartment is decorated modestly, color popping in the pillows on your couch, the rug you have in the living room, the dinner mats on your two-chaired dinner table. Photos of friends, family, your nieces hang on every wall in a pleasant array. It’s lived in, alive, warm, yours.

He doesn’t realize he’s studying the place until you call from behind him from the kitchen, your head deep in the pantry. “You still want that beer? I can make some coffee instead?”

“Coffee’s good. Bl—”

“Black. I know.” You look at him over your shoulder, a twinkle somehow emerging in your eyes. From the ash of a smoldering fire that burned all that was sane, you still rise—sparking anew.  He watches, curious. You grab coffee grounds and move through your kitchen, filling the machine and starting a brew. 

“You hungry?” You ask. 

“Are you?”

“I could eat.” 

He didn’t come here to eat breakfast. He’s not sure why he even came in the first place. But he nods despite the uncertainty that makes him feel idiotic. “Sure.”

He wades awkwardly into your apartment. Unsure where to stand, how to take up less space, if he should bid his goodbye now or later. His eyes fall to a box leaning against your living room wall, beside your television that sits pathetically on the floor. 

“What’s going on here?” He asks, gesturing to the cardboard with black lettering that has too many umlauts above them. 

“A TV stand that I’ve been procrastinating building.” You respond, the sound of eggs cracking on the counter and into a bowl ringing throughout the room. 

“How long?”

“‘bout a month.”

“Christ.” He scoffs. “You waiting for God to show up?

“Something like that.” He hums. His eyes narrow for a moment, before deciding resolutely. 

“Got a tool kit?”

The morning unfolds slowly, comfortably. Jack sitting in your living room, building your TV stand to create a reason as to why he’s here. He pauses only when you plate up some breakfast. Eggs, toast, and a cup of coffee. He eats in a steady quiet with you, unsure when the last time he had breakfast with someone was.

Conversations are interspersed infrequently. Mostly unimportant; something about this new hot sauce you got from the farmer’s market and the plans you have for redecorating. He tells a stupid story about the billboard outside your apartment window that used to have the picture of the two twin lawyers and their fish man.

(“Their fish man?”

“Shenderovich, Shenderovich, and Fishman. 1-888-98-Twins.”

“Shenderovich to the second power. God, that’s awful.”

“You’re telling me.”)

Quiet things, small delights that bring the slight quirk to his lips and the gentle huff of laughter from you. The small things the diffuse the tension of the night, that force the slow revival into becoming a human again.

You take both plates when you finish, humming at his quiet thanks and returning to the kitchen to clean while he returns his attention to the stand. And it’s normal—so pointedly normal and domestic it’s a wonder this hasn’t been a routine occurrence. Jack is sore thumb in his scrubs sitting on your living room floor, your measly excuse for a toolkit beside him as he fits wooden slabs together and builds. An entirely new sight, certainly not something the version of you a few months ago would’ve thought you’d ever see, but it's a welcome one. 

Weirdly, he fits. His figure, his presence, him. Makes your home feel whole, meaningful.

Time passes with little recognition. It’s a relatively simple stand—easy and mindless to put together. The Swedes are built off of functional efficiency and he sends a quiet hail mary to the Scandinavians. One moment, Jack is scanning the instructions, his eyes glancing to yours as you place a glass of water beside his mug on the coffee table next to him. Then he blinks and the stand is assembled, only the quiet hum of the morning news sounding from your television. 

It’s a welcome thing. He’s never able to fully turn his mind off but in the mundane, the easy turn of the screw and the pleasing click of pieces together, the turmoil dulls to a quiet chatter and he can breathe easily. Zoned in so readily that he lost touch with reality for a second. Forgot where he was, what he was doing, who he was doing it for. 

He pushes the stand into the place where your TV sits on the ground, then lifts the TV onto its surface. Settling the furniture into the place that he supposes you would want—the place he thinks it looks best. 

He’s turning, content at being useful and ready to ask for your approval. Then he realizes that he’s heard very little from you while he was building.

He finds you on the couch behind him. Eyes shut, mouth slightly open as your breaths are softly and evenly exhaled in your sleep. Your hair is released from the tie you had to hold it back throughout the shift, the strands messily framing your face as you lay against the pillow of the couch. Still clad in your scrubs, your face settles peacefully as you rest. Not scrunched in frustration or stony in your focus. 

Under the soft of the morning light, a sharp contrast to the fluorescents he’s always seen you under, exhaustion resounds on your face. Tamed only by the sweetened sighs of your slumber that remedy the ailment. You sleep, sweet and easy.

A stray strand of hair crosses over your nose, moving with the rhythmic rise and falls of your breaths. A twitch aches in his fingers. Spurned by need and the deep rooted ache of loneliness that craves the taste of tenderness. 

He brushes the strand away from your face, eyes focused on the action, watching your face remain peacefully asleep. Relishes in the brief moment of softness he’s been afforded. 

There’s a twinge of guilt as he has to disturb the solitude, yours and his, when he taps your leg gently. You stir in tired confusion.

“Lock the door behind me.”

“You’re going?” You ask, wiping your mouth, sounding disappointed at the notion. 

“Yeah. You need to sleep.”

“You sure? You can stay.”

The excuse is on his tongue fighting against the urge to read into that. There was hardly a reason for him to be here today, much less one for him to linger around. Insist and bore drill into the cracks of his thick skull that this shouldn’t happen again. That this is inappropriate. 

It’s pointedly not, though. He built a stand for you, you made him breakfast. That was all there was to it. That’s all that was being expected by you, because why would you expect anything further?

(You wouldn’t. Because there’s nothing going on. Despite the stares from the nurses, and the whispers of a rumored bet, and the lingering glances that get sent between you two—nothing is going on.

He’s sure of it.)

But, Jack doesn’t do things flippantly, without purpose. And walls don’t get torn down, softened, for just any reason. In the ingrained pattern that Dr. Mott insists is a defense mechanism and that Jack believes is just normal human condition, he feels the walls so carefully erected find their place once more. Fortified to shut out the possibility of some inane want for something burn without restraint within him. 

The armor that’s been slowly cracking back settles onto him and he aims for a neutral expression. Curt, succinct. No room for error. “Thanks for breakfast.” 

“Thanks for the stand, you didn’t have to do that. But it looks great.” You trail behind him slowly as he walks towards your front door. “I’ll be calling you for all of my furniture builds. I’m spoiled now, old man.”

Here’s the chance. Stop it here, smother the budding growth of a tender seed before it takes root and spreads into his lungs. Prevent the tendons from reaching up his throat, crawling into his brain, and mold the perfect image of you into the grey matter. 

He should tell you, firmly, that this will not happen again. Throw in a degrading tease, diffuse the sincerity of the moment. Get you to stop looking at him like he means something.

“Anytime, city girl.” He says, instead. 

You smile— warm, relaxed, gentle and he’s ready to aim gun to temple at the realization of how much he likes it. He can only do what he knows best, what he does with everything else he stupidly seems to notice and grab onto with you, and puts it on the shelf. Half ready to lock it in a chest deep in his mind and toss the key into a cavernous abyss. 

“I’ll hold you to it.” You say, content. And he nods.

He drives back in silence and the promise forged in tired smiles and quiet closeness chokes him all the way home.

a/n: i would like it known, this is the fastest i have ever put out work in a series. im just so bewitched by this middle aged man, i want him inside me.

know this is a quick one and not much happens but i'm a true believer in slow burn being both slow and burning :)

next one will be fun, promise!

[kasagia]

Losing your memory

Pairing: Young! Coriolanus Snow x fem!Capitol! reader Summary: He used to be your Coryo. Now he has become the man you don't know. The Plinth heir. The future president of Panem. You pray every day to forget about the sweet boy you fell in love with, on whom you could always count. To forget who he was and lose the memory of the past. Just like he did. Well... not exactly. Unfortunately for you, he still wants to remember you. Inspired by: "Losing your memory" by Ryan Star Word count: 7,2 k ~•♤♤♤•~ Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

You've been avoiding him ever since you found out he was back in the Capitol.

A month ago, this news would have aroused great joy and ecstasy in you. Your Coryo is back home. He managed to shorten his exile and gain Dr. Gaul's favour again.

But the man who returned from District 12 was not your dear friend or lover. This wasn't your sweet Coryo, with whom you walked hand in hand to school. This wasn't the boy you shared your lunch with. This wasn't a boy who cared about your well-being above his own. This wasn't a boy who joked about snobbish children spoiled by the richest people in Panem with you and Sejanus at the end of the day. (Although he talked with them, trying to keep up good appearances—he used to call that one of the responsibilities of being Snow.)

The man who came back was Coriolanus. The new Plinth heir. The shell of someone you knew. The ruthless, cold pet of the mad creator of the Hunger Games you despised.

Sejanus' death didn't hurt you as much as the transformation of Coriolanus from the person closest to you into someone you barely even recognized. And from the tearful, sad, resentful, and disappointed stories you heard from Tigris, you had an accurate picture of the man who took your Coryo's place.

And you hated him with all your heart.

Especially after what he promised you when you stayed at his apartment for one snowy winter night.

You lay wrapped in the various blankets and quilts Coryo and Tigris could find. It was winter, and they didn't have much money for additional heating, so they mostly walked around the house in several layers and slept under piles of clothes.

You didn't know about that that night.

Tigris lent him her quilt so that he wouldn't have to be ashamed of the poverty his family had fallen into since you were supposed to come to sleepover with him after the argument with your parents.

Cuddling up to your blonde boy, you tried to fall asleep, listening to his heartbeat. You frowned at the sound of it being a little faster than usual.

You lift your head and look at him carefully. His gaze is distant and thoughtful as he lazily draws patterns on your back as he presses you against his chest.

"Coryo?" you whisper, cupping his cheek in your hand tenderly and forcing those blue irises you have loved so much to look at you. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

He sighs long and presses a kiss on your forehead, the tip of his nose stroking your hair, as he is inhaling your scent. "I just... I just think about the fact that you deserve so much more. My grandma and Tigirs deserve much more than... this." he says with disgusting pointing at the room you were in.

"This..." you say, clasping your hands together and pressing a tender kiss to the back of his hand. "Is more than enough. You are all I need. And one day, when you are President of Panem or any other important figure in the Capitol, none of you will lack anything. This is a temporary state. You are too smart to be anything less than great, Coryo. You know it."

You see him hold back tears. He pushed your head onto his chest to rest his chin on your head. He is not crying. He almost never cries. But you know how close he is to it by the slight quiver in his breathing.

"I know I don't show it often enough... but you mean... everything to me. I can't imagine how I would go through these all without you by my side."

"I love you, Corio. Just promise me you won't forget this. What you went through, what you experienced. Don't forget your struggle. That's something you should never be ashamed of." he tenses at your words but leans in to kiss you passionately and hungrily. Putting all his unexpressed emotions into action and into that kiss that warmed you more than any blanket or radiator could ever.

"I promise. I will never forget how you kept me sane. When you were the only shelter I could go to and the only support that could bear the boundlessness of my troubles and doubts. How you were my only moonlight in the worst of my darknesses." you laugh softly, recognising part of his words.

"Quoting poets will get you nowhere, Coriolanus Snow." you say teasingly, rubbing your nose against him, at which he chuckles, licking his lips.

"Well... I've learned that in some situations, it gets me somewhere. And it's a very cold night tonight, don't you think? I can't let you freeze to death." he says as his hands go under your shirt—actually, his shirt that you stole from his closet.

"Well… I guess there's nothing left for me… but to place myself under your solicitous care." you sigh softly as he pins you underneath him, making sure the cocoon of blankets is still tightly wrapped around the two of you.

"I couldn't have said it better." he whispers and presses his lips against yours, stealing your breath countless times. He pulls away just a little to say against your lips, "You're mine. We belong together. No matter what."

He makes you shiver as you eagerly agree to everything he says. You don't realise how, in the future, you will curse every single intimate, sweet moment you shared with him.

Ironically, you realise how deep he has gotten under your skin the moment he returns to the Capitol, and you have to avoid him, not when he is sent into exile.

It was probably because when he was gone, you were too distraught to bother leaving your room, opening the blinds, or wiping the tears that somehow kept leaking from your eyes to notice how almost every place reminded you of him. If you could, you'd go back in time and tell yourself there's no point in crying over the asshole he's become.

Although maybe you already felt that your Corio was leaving, and it was a way of mourning him?

Anyway, you saw him everywhere. Not Coriolanus. Coryo. He stalked you in the library, the park, the cafe near the academy that you two and Sejanus liked to go to, and of course the Academy itself. Kudos to your parents for not letting him into your house. At least he didn't pollute your room with memories of him.

Involuntarily, you wonder if he also sees you, for example, in every corner of his apartment. Or maybe he renovated it beyond recognition to erase all traces of his past?

You didn't know.

And you didn't want to know.

The information about him that Tigris gave you when you met her at your house when Coriolanus was at the university for classes was sufficient.

Just because it didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean you would abandon your only real friend. And just because things didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean she would stop (more or less subtly) encouraging you to go back to him.

"We talked about you." she says, making adjustments to your dress that she made for your birthday party thrown by your parents. Another one of the unpleasant responsibilities.

"You and your grandma?" you ask, trying to avoid HIM as a topic as much as possible.

"No. Me and Coriolanus." she says, pinning something to your waist—some decorative strip of fabric or something—you're not sure; you're too focused on the window and the bustling city as you are trying to ignore her words. "You know… I think… I think I saw in his eyes… the old Coryo. For a brief moment, but… maybe if you came back to him, he would come back to himself too."

"I'm sorry, Tigris, but I think he went too far on his path to simply go back to who he was. Surely not because of me."

"I understand… I just really miss him." she says it in a soft, broken tone, and your heart breaks at it. You hug her with all your strength, uniting with her pain that you also felt so deeply.

"Me too." you whisper in her ear as she cries into your shoulder.

Tigris was a very strong woman. She always impressed you. You wanted to be as strong as her. But even the toughest had to cry sometimes.

After all, there comes a time when even the snow melts... even if only for a little while.

You held him tightly in your arms as Corio cried into your chest.

His grandmother fell ill. Hard. Without a doctor, she definitely wouldn't be able to get out of this on her own, and they didn't have the money to pay for one, let alone the medicines.

Your boyfriend spent the whole day planning, thinking, and getting any money, but it was not enough even to buy the cheapest antibiotic.

However, you didn't expect that after you found out it all from Tigris and ran to him as fast as you could with the chicken soup prepared by your servants and all your pocket money, he would start crying.

Coriolanus Snow cried like a little baby.

You handed the money and soup to Tigris, who, after feeding up their grandma, quickly ran out with her to the doctor. At that time, you were holding your boyfriend in your arms in the other room, who simply fell apart from his helplessness.

"Shh… it's going to be okay, Coryo. She will live, falsify that stupid hymn and hate me for not being enough for you just as she used to." your attempt to comfort him didn't help. If anything, he only cried more, holding onto you tighter and tighter.

"I should be able to take care of them... I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around. I'm pathetic and weak. I'm not worthy of being called Snow."

"Hey, my sweet boy, look at me. You are strong. You are the strongest man I know. You are looking after me all the time; you literally give me everything you have, the last piece of your food, to keep me happy, safe, and full when I forget to bring a damn second breakfast from home or don't have time to eat something. You love me, and I love you, and that's how it works. We care about each other. And I have never, ever regretted being with you. Because what we have… is more valuable than anything else in this world. I trust you implicitly, and I will always be by your side. You are not alone with your problems and suffering. Not as long as I am here."

"But for how long will you stay? For how long will you endure with me?" he asks, and after one look at those a little red from crying, beautiful blue iris, you answer without a shadow of hesitation.

"As long as you love me and I can trust you. As long as I breathe. As long as I am in your mind and heart. I am not going anywhere, Coryo. Money can be earned, but what we have... you can't buy it. What I feel for you is more dear to me than any treasure in this world and I will never exchange it for anything else." you promise, stroking his hair tenderly to help him calm down.

You should've then wondered why he doesn't agree with you then. Why doesn't he say that he also feels this way and that he also values you more than money, glory, and honours?

But he blinds you by telling you for the first time that he loves you.

And you cling to him, wiping the tears from his face with your lips and foolishly believing that your love is pure and eternal.

Like a driven snow.

You knew this day would come someday. The day you let your guard down. But you hoped it would take a little longer before you came face-to-face with Coriolanus.

You are completely unprepared for this. You just freeze like a deer in headlights when you see his face at the end of one of the university's corridors as he walks forward, looking for something in his bag. Before you can even think about running away, he looks up, probably feeling watched, and his blue, icy eyes meet yours.

You both stand there transfixed, looking at each other, taking in the changes in your appearance since the last time you saw each other, which was after you broke up with him, when you saw how tenderly he treated Lucy Gray and how comfortable he was around her. And after someone politely informed you that he had kissed her.

"Y/N!" Coriolanus calls out to you and takes a step towards you, but you quickly step back and run through the crowd of people to get away from him. Unfortunately for you, he doesn't give up that easily. He never does. "Y/N! Wait!"

You have no intention of doing so. You run as fast as you can, bumping into several students along the way. You don't even bother apologising; you just run, hoping that Snow will stop being hot on your heels. Which, by the way, was a miserable dream after how fit he was after his training and the time he spent as a peacekeeper.

On the way, you notice a woman's bathroom and immediately run into it. You lock yourself in a cabin, thanking God or whoever is up that you managed to get an empty cabin and hide in it. You hear his quick footsteps and the door opening, followed by the screams of other women in the bathroom. You sigh in relief as you hear him obediently leave the room.

You're not leaving, though. You are not stupid. You know he's waiting at the door for you to come out. You decide to wait here until the end of the break between classes and hope that he will drop the idea of continuing to chase you and talk to you, and he will attend the lecture instead.

As the bathroom begins to empty, you realise that the next lectures must be soon. You stand silently on the toilet seat, listening carefully, waiting for the right moment to emerge from your miserable hiding place.

Just as you are about to reach for the doorknob, the bathroom door opens. You shiver as you hear heavy footsteps echoing off the tiles of the empty bathroom. And you think that you can smell the subtle scent of roses in the air.

"Come on, Y/N. I know you're here. I just want to talk."

Said the snake moments before eating the bird alive.—you think, mentally mocking how gentle he was trying to present himself. As if he could still be your Coryo.

"I have time. I can play hide-and-seek with you, if you want to. After all, you always liked to play this when we were kids. And you always lost."

You roll your eyes, listening carefully to his footsteps. He was opening the first cabin. You were in the middle one—the one a little closer to the door (and him).

"We'll have to talk eventually. You can't avoid me and ignore me, no matter how good you are at it lately. Let's stop this ridiculous, childish behaviour and go talk over coffee and some of your favourite cookies at the cafe near the academy. Just like the good old days. Well, this time all your orders are on me. What do you say?"

You would have snorted if it hadn't immediately revealed your hiding place to him. How dare he invite you to the place where you, he, and Sejanus spent the most time? To the place where your first unofficial date was.

He wanted to manipulate you, to make you believe that your Corio is still there and lives behind the façade of the rich, arrogant asshole he has become. But you knew better. His eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Even without Tigris' help, you realised that he... was a completely different person. He turned into somebody you only used to know in the past.

"Seriously? Still nothing? So you prefer the hard way, then..." he says, opening another cabin. You wait patiently for him to come to yours.

You breathe as quietly as you can, trying not to let him know which cabin you're in. You listen to his slow, measured steps as, with the incredible confidence and calm that is typical of him, he opens each cabin door, moving inexorably towards you.

Your heart quickens, beating madly, when you see his shoes in the whole, under the cabin's door. He reaches for the door handle, and before he can open it, you push the door against him with all your strength.

You hear him curse, taking a few steps back in a daze and holding his nose. You take the opportunity and run to the exit of the bathroom as fast as you can, not looking back.

"Fuck! Y/N! Are you insane?!" he shouts, running after you.

You reach the door just in time and slam it behind you, sprinting out of the university. You get in your car and drive away with your tyres screeching. In the rearview mirror, you see him leaving the building and following your car with a furious glare.

"I can't believe you invited Snow." you huff, fixing your makeup in the mirror. Your father is buttoning his cuffs, and your mother stands next to you, also putting the finishing touches on her appearance. "You hated him when we were together."

"He is an ambitious and clever boy. Plinth did well to make him his heir. You should reconsider whether he really is that bad. This match would have opened many doors for us. Not only among Plinth's allies but also among Dr. Gaul. God knows how she favours this boy. Who knows? Maybe one day he will be president of Panem."

"If so, I will run away abroad." you say it bitterly, putting your lipstick back in your purse and adjusting the necklace around your neck to make yourself look perfect.

"Don't be stupid. Snow wouldn't be so bad for you. Since you are our only child, we must marry you well. Make sure your husband doesn't blow our fortune in a week. And Snow is a thoughtful boy. He wouldn't let you live below the poverty line."

"And he's quite handsome." your mother adds, straightening your father's tie. "Still, he's not a womaniser. I heard he turned down the... special attention of Crane's daughter and a few other Capitol's girls. I guess he's been alone since your breakup."

"Hmm. Great. He wouldn't cheat on me with other snobs in the capital, but he would fuck with whores in the district. The perfect candidate for a husband." you scoff, walking with them to the next room, where the photographers were waiting to take a photo of you together.

“Language, Y/N. You are a lady. Besides, it is not certain whether he and this Lucy Gray actually had something between them. After all, she's a woman from the district.” your mom says this, smiling for the cameras.

The flashes blind you a little, but with your father's and mother's hands on your shoulders, you somehow manage to keep your pose, fake, pretty smile, and opened eyes.

Your father thanks them and leads you out of the room and into the corridor leading to the great hall where the ball was to be held.

"And even if he did, it's good that he had some fun. It will make him appreciate the treasure that you are and see that you are irreplaceable." he says, taking the box out of his pocket. He hands it to you with a warm smile. "Happy birthday, my treasure."

"We've already given her..." your father shushes your mother. You send them a confused look as you open the medium-sized box.

You find a tiara there. A small diamond tiara.

"It will match your dress perfectly." your father says proudly. You nod and walk to the mirror to put it on, despising the object in your hands with all your heart. You may look like a princess, but you've never felt so... disgusted with yourself before.

This feeling intensified even more when, after a toast and receiving wishes from several of your friends and more powerful families, you managed to sneak out to the balcony. Not long after you, all the single, young men of the richest family on the Capitol entered, with Coriolanus among them. They each took a cigarette and started smoking, gossiping about the events of the week…

And their topic of conversation was exactly what you were afraid of when you got that fucking tiara.

"Have you seen this? I bet they're pure diamonds. Old Y/L/N wants to marry her off so much that he's using every trick possible."

"He doesn't need to do much. She is beautiful in her own right. But this character… it's easier to train a dog than such a stubborn cow."

"What Snow? Are you now regretting that the Capitol's Diamond slipped from your hands? I heard she wants nothing to do with you. How unfortunate that it happened at the moment when you started to count in the eyes of the elite, and now you really have any chance of grabbing this precious gem for yourself."

The Capitol's Diamond. You shudder, thinking about the nickname you've been given.

That's what they called you. The sole heiress to your parents' fortune. Diamond of the Capitol, the best match in the city, with a dowry greater than any other woman. Anyone who won your hand was guaranteed to reach the top and success with your family's connections, your charm, beauty, and brain. And these vultures knew it perfectly well.

You were curious how the new Coriolanus would react.

Your Coryo only took advantage of your position in society when he had to. He didn't ask you for money or for you to convince your father to whisper a good word about him here and there. Maybe it was because of his pride; maybe he really didn't care. You have no idea. But Coryo despised that term as much as you did. You wondered if that had changed as well.

"I'm still in the game." he replies evasively, sipping his drink. The others laugh and he frowns in displeasure.

"Sure. Because the way she ran away from you today when you approached her with a gift says exactly that." they mock him. You see him clench his jaw, glaring at them coldly as he considers his next move.

"Enjoy it while you can. Your good mood will end when our cat-and-mouse game is over and the Capitol's Diamond hangs proudly on my shoulder." you huff, shaking your head in disbelief. You come out of hiding, and all the men on the balcony tense up and look at you in surprise.

Especially Coriolanus. Suddenly everyone is staring intently at the garden of your estate, too shy to look at you. Except Snow. He drills a hole into you with his gaze as he thinks of a way to undo what he said.

"Gentlemen." you scoff, walking past them and ignoring Coriolanus' glare. "For your information, I would rather live in one of the districts than marry any of you. Enjoy the party." you add sweetly, walking back to the ballroom.

The party is in full swing. You are talking to Thomas, using a sweet boy in a shameful way—to scare other men away from you. Just as you expected, they started flocking to you like flies to a fire.

So you chose the least spoiled of them. Thomas was nice and funny; you had a good time talking to him, and dancing with him was even better.

He wasn't rich; he wasn't part of the cream of society. You were really starting to enjoy spending time with him. And most importantly... he looked nothing like Coriolanus. He was nice for the eyes, but his dark hair, eyes, and sweet, shy personality made him drastically different from your ex. So he was the perfect break from your dramatic love life. Boring, nice change.

You danced to a waltz with him. He held you gently, close but respectful, not invading your personal space. He was a perfect gentleman. The man of your dreams.

If only Coriolanus' icy eyes weren't focused on both of you like a predator waiting for its prey to stumble, you would be able to enjoy Thomas' company to the fullest.

You are with him at the buffet, sipping drinks, when suddenly the last person you expected to meet here approaches you.

"Mrs. Plinth." you whisper in shock as he stands in front of you.

She looks—probably the way she feels. Nice on the outside and devastated on the inside. The dark circles under her eyes cannot be fully covered by makeup, and the deep black of her dress is a clear reminder of what she is still going through.

You can't imagine the pain he's going through right now. And you wonder why the woman decided to join her husband for your birthday party. Since Sejanus' death, she has rarely left their apartment.

"Y/N. Can I steal you from this young man for a moment?"

"Of course." you say, not even looking in Thomas' direction as you and Mrs. Plinth walk to one of the empty living rooms in your mansion. You close the door behind her and point to the couch. "Can I get you something to drink? Or to eat?"

"No. There is no need, darling. I just… I just came here to give you something." she says, pulling a thick letter out of her purse. "I… the letters from Sejanus are still reaching us. The flow of information between the districts and the Capitol is… very heavy and long. Especially when the peacekeepers are now checking every one of his correspondence. He sent it to you. Or rather, he wanted you to send it to him. Or rather, he wanted you to have it, just in case he couldn't… I'm sorry."

Your heart aches with sadness, seeing her on the verge of tears. She probably has no one to talk to about her son except her husband. After all, Sejanus was a traitor of Panem…

"He was a wonderful friend. The best one somebody could have. I could always count on him. Thank you for... taking the trouble to give me a letter from him. That... means a lot." you say, fighting the urge to hug the woman. The Capitol is not famous for acts of tenderness, mercy, or compassion. You had to keep up a facade. Always.

You take the letter from her and walk her to the exit. You give her one sympathetic look—everything you could afford in your position—and close the door behind her.

You sit on the couch and open the letter with trembling hands, trying not to look too closely at the way he wrote your name on the envelope. You know that will remind you of how you taught him how to decorate letters in his first days at the Capitol. Because everything here had to be perfectly beautiful. Even the fucking handwriting.

A bracelet falls out of the envelope and onto your lap. It is not particularly beautiful or sumptuous. It is a simple strap holding a peg-shaped pendant with some black, crushed stone placed behind a piece of glass.

You place it on the coffee table and open the letter with trembling hands. You already feel that after all this you will have to fix your makeup, which you will probably ruin with tears, but Sej's letter cannot wait until the end of the party.

Y/N, If you are somehow reading this letter, it means that I am not at your 20th birthday party, which makes me very sad. (You know how I love celebrating in your garden away from these Capitol's snobs.) Coming back, you know that I wish you all the best (along with Coryo. He's too big of a stick up his ass to write to you, even though he misses you and can't stop thinking about you. Take pity on me and write to this stubborn idiot, because I don't think I can stand another tirade about you and your perfection. Seriously. Our boy is getting mad because of this despair. I don't recognise him at all.) So, my dear friend, I wish you the best. I don't have any trinkets, interesting books, sweets, or anything suitable as a gift here, so I hope you'll be satisfied with what I came up with. I am not a poet, so don't laugh at me. I shall hear... or not. I made the bracelet, which you've probably already seen, myself. And that stone that is inside (and I hope it survived) is coal. I wanted to give this to you as a symbol of who you are to me. Everyone sees you as a diamond, something precious and beautiful. But for me and probably other people close to you, you are something more. This shiny diamond facade hides carbon. A simple coal, an ordinary soul like many others. But you made something more out of that ordinary coal. You are a diamond. Indestructible, the most durable of all. The purest form, preserved among the other gems and stones of the Capitol, because that's what all these power-hungry assholes are—coals that have decided not to change, to choose what is easy for them. I hope now you can see why I liked that nickname for you, diamond. So I hope you always stay true to yourself. No matter what. That's what I learned here, and I want to pass it on to you. Although I hope that by then the three of us will meet again in the Capitol. Do not wait for us both, Sejanus P.S. I miss you too.

You fold the letter and put it back in the envelope. You wipe away the tears that remain on your cheeks with your hands and take a few ragged breaths, trying to calm down.

You freeze when suddenly someone's arms wrap around you. The scent of roses hits your nostrils.

You get up from the couch like you've been burned and push Coriolanus' arms away from you. The feeling of sadness quickly turns to anger and pure fury as you stare at Snow.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you growl through a clenched jaw, extremely glad that there's a couch between you, or you'd hit him. And it was easier for you to explain your tears and smeared makeup than your red knuckles.

"Sweet, kind Plinth, giving you thoughtful gifts from beyond the grave. You love the dead Sejanus so much and ignore the living me. It must be hypocrisy on your part, don't you think? You accuse me of forgetting about Sejanus when you treat me so shamefully, worse than a dog. Should I die so that you can finally stop giving me the silent treatment and running away from me?"

"Believe me, you don't want to hear what I have to say to you." you huff, taking the bracelet and the letter. You hide them in the bodice of your dress and go to the mirror to fix your smudged makeup.

"You do not have to do that. Your boy isn't at the party anymore anyway." he says, standing so that you can see his reflection in the mirror.

"What?" you ask in surprise, turning to face him. You both stare at each other. In fact, you're only now getting a chance to take a good look at him. And you notice with dissatisfaction that the bastard found out from Tigris what your dress would look like, and he chose a suite so that both of you would match. "Where is Thomas?"

"Your little boy toy? Do you think he's enough of a distraction? That he can replace me? That he'll make you feel what I feel? Maby, that he can even protect you from me? Only I know you. I'm the only one worthy of your fucking attention and affection." you push past him, but he grabs your elbow.

"Touch me again and I'll cut off your hand and shove it down your throat." you growl, breaking away from his grip.

"Such aggression… I don't remember you from this side." he mocks you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You step away from him and cross your arms, staring at him defiantly.

"I will ask you one last time. Where is Thomas?"

"Let's just say that your mother and I caught him stealing your jewelry. We were merciful enough to solve the matter quietly. You will never see that garbage on the ball or any gala again. Certainly not on yours."

"Were you the one who framed him for this?" his silence and the calculating, self-proud look of the cat that caught the canary (or, in this case, the snake that choked the mouse) tell you everything. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" you ask furiously.

You want to move past him, but he pushes you back, making you bump into the wall. He closes the gap between you in one step, pressing his chest against yours.

"You're mine. You've always been. You shouldn't lead this loser on or give him false hopes. We both know we will end up together."

"I broke up with you." you remind him, not caring about his intimidating attitude.

"A mistake I intend to fix." he says, leaning towards you.

His nose brushes against yours, and you shiver. You lift your leg, trying to kick him in the groyne, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees your sudden movement and grabs your thigh in a tight grip. If it weren't for the thick layers of material, he would probably leave bruises.

"You... you have nothing to fix. There is no longer us. I don't even know you anymore, Coriolanus."

"Don't." he growls at you angrily. You can see the desperation and madness in his eyes at the fact that you're using his name and that you wrote off your relationship. "It was always you. You were always mine, Y/N, and I was always your Coryo."

"Things are changing quickly. We are not the same, and now we have nothing in common, nothing to talk about."

"We have EVRYTHING to talk about. I still love.."

"DON'T!" you interrupt him. He freezes. You rarely shout, especially at him. That's why he takes a step back before putting on his impassive mask again. "Don't even say that. You have no idea what love is. Sure, you may feel attached and even desire me at some point, but you have no idea of unconditional, true love. So for old time's sake, leave me alone."

"What about you? Do you think you are so holy and blameless? That I'm the only bad guy? You lied to me. You promised you would stay with me, no matter what."

"I promised it to my Coryo. Not to you, Coriolanus. My Coryo died in District 12 with Sejanus—maybe even in the Hunger Games—when you let Dr. Gaul brainwash you in the name of fame, money, and position. You think that old hag didn't tell me why Sejanus is dead? That I don't know that your songbird has disappeared? That I would believe that Highbottom just got high or drank himself to death?" he clenches his jaw and fists at your words. You can see how furious he is, but he holds back, still controlling himself.

"Everything I did, I did for us. For you. For Tigris and Grandma." you laugh, wondering who he's trying to fool—himself, you, or both of you at the same time.

"No. You're doing it for yourself. Only for yourself, Coriolanus." he gets even more angry and pins you to the wall again. His cool blue eyes are raging with rage, and you try hard to push away the feeling of fear he has stirred in you.

"Do you want a reason to hate me? So you and Tigris can still gossip about my madness? Then maybe I should let this old man pursue her and sell her as a wife to one of them for good money."

"KEEP HER OUT OF IT! It's Tigris, Coriolanus! Tigris! The woman whose sacrifice you owe your entire fucking life to! A woman who went out of her way to give your ungrateful, selfish ass something to wear. Who sacrificed the love of her life in the name of maintaining the façade of Snow's wealth?! You can give a damn about me, Sejan, and even that little songbird of yours, but if you fucking ruin the life of your cousin—the only goddamn person who still cares about you—I promise you, in memory of OUR dead friend, that there won't be a fucking hole where you could hide from me."

You stare daggers at each other, both openly expressing your resentment towards the other. You have no idea why he still cares about you—is it because of your money, position, or some sick fantasy he has in his head, or maybe he actually still cares about you?

You don't think about it when a more important issue arises.

Suddenly, he grabs your face in both hands and pulls you towards him, greedily kissing you as he connects your lips after a very long time of separation. He caresses your lips with his and kisses you with such fervour as if he craves you like a hermit starving for water.

And for a moment, you feel like you were with Coryo, when all that mattered to you was the other one, when you could get lost in each other, forgetting about the rest of the world and the worries that were waiting for you.

And that's exactly what he's doing now. He makes you forget about anything but him.

You can't help but moan into his mouth as he presses his body against yours. When he releases his strong grip on your cheeks to grab you around your waist and press you against his body, his leg is between yours.

He kisses you more hungrily, groaning too at the familiar warmth of your body against him and the feeling of your soft, silky skin pressing against him. The scent of your perfume mixes, creating a perfect combination of roses and your favourite flowers. Your hands automatically go to his hair as you hold on to him and press him to you. You don't like the gel on your hands from his hair, but you ignore this new, irritating feeling by biting his lip.

You don't think at all. As well as Coriolanus. You both just kiss each other, your tongues joining, as you both let your desire for one another take control of the situation.

You only come to your senses when your lips break apart. You gasp, trying to breathe again, as he fucks your exposed collarbones with kisses. Your brain comes back to you as he leaves a hickey on your neck. He bites you, making you moan so needily that a wave of shame washes over you with his tongue, soothing the bite. You push him away from you and place your hand on your chest, trying to regain control over yourself.

"See? We belong together. There is no other way, Y/N. We are all we need."

"Bullshit." you gasp, trying to ignore the possessive, smug feeling blooming in your chest when you see his messy hair and your lipstick smeared on his lips. "Since you are that good in losing your memory, then forget about me too."

"I can't. I just can't. You think I haven't tried? That you don't haunt me every damn step I take? Everything I have and everything I know is saturated with you. With the memory of both of us. I forgot about what I had with that songbird and my friendship with Sejanus, but I simply CAN'T forget about you. I haven't spent a single damn day without thinking about you. NOT EVEN ONE. And I know you felt the same way. Do you know why I didn't kill that stupid boy who was clinging to you? Because I knew it would make you hate me even more. I was alone without you at 12, and you know how it ended. You are my conscience. Without you... there's nothing holding me back. Without you, there is nothing to distinguish me from the Hunger Games tributes. I have no borders, mercy, compassion, or anything that makes people human beings. And Gaul knows it. That's why she told you all of my crimes; that's why you're paranoid now that I'm someone completely different. But it's still me. I. Am. Still. Your. Coryo." he says it firmly, taking a step closer to you with each word.

"Don't turn me into a fucking cricket for your Pinocchio. I am not, and I do not want to be your conscience. I will not take part in your lies, games, and manipulations." you say as you both stare at each other, neither of you wanting to concede to the other in any way.

"I will have you. One way or another, but I will. Even if it is the last thing I do, I will have you by my side. Just where you always belonged. I promised you to be my First Lady. And I intend to keep that promise."

"You must become president first. And believe me, I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening. Maybe you can't forget about me. But I can. I do not need you. I never needed you. How ironic to be able to lose the memories of everyone except the girl who will be the end of you, isn't it, CORIOLANUS?" you mock him, a smirk on your lips, making him a promise.

You walk past him, and this time he lets you go, knowing full well that he won't do anything more with you today. At least he got his kiss and a little taste of you, a reminder of the reward that awaits him when everything finally falls into place. When he finally has you in his arms and is at the top of Panem—his rightful place.

"The game has just begun!" he shouts after you, staring at you as you head towards the bathroom to touch up your ruined makeup. It gives you satisfaction to think that this bastard will probably have to clean himself up after your little make-out session, too.

You think that maybe Gaul was right about the Hunger Games being the whole world. But the reality was that there could only be ONE winner.

And among the people of the Capitol, only you and Coriolanus had a real chance of winning. It has always been like that. And even lost memories that do not want to go away so easily are proof of this.

Part 2

[angelsforthenight]

screen babe, mean babe, guess who’s gonna cream babe! (pt. 3)

camgirl!vi x reader (pt 1 , pt 2)

summary: things between you and vi warp into some sort of competitive game. who can tease each other the most? who can debase who? a barbecue party is where true feelings are revealed: some trivial, some unfeigned.

content (18+): more angst ofc, cursing, dbf!sevika feature!!!!, drinking, lightweight!reader, jealousy, sub!vi, pathetic!vi, nipple play, use of y/n

it doesn’t take long at all for you to join vi’s trifling little game. if she expected you to lap up her teases like a desperate hound-dog then she’s got another thing coming. she seems to think that you’re just so foolish and easy to manipulate — which is why she stepped on your foot under the table that horrid morning, held your hand through the sea of people and even bought that cd for you. showering you with attention the entire day, just so she could see your reaction. she was messing with you the entire time, waiting for you to keel over at her feet. but hell no. vi wants to play? oh, you’re more than welcome to join her.

day by day, your rivalry with vi nurtures into a big, fat glob of hatred. it sucks, because whilst vi is clearly obtaining fun from a) leaving your bathroom a mess on purpose, b) coming into your room, flexing in front of your mirror and leaving without closing the door, and c) having the nerve! the absolute nerve to fling her dirty top covered in dirt and stinking of sweat on your face. can you believe that shit? she may as well be an annoying little brother.

what’s funny is that whilst she ran away giggling, she forgot about coming back to retrieve said shirt. since you’re not interested in ambling to her room and handing it to her so easily, it’s untouched; lying underneath your bed instead.

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at one point in the night, you’re laying in bed wide awake, watching the streaks of moonlight dappling your ceiling in creases of blue. the clock renders eleven. that damned eleven o’clock, still engraved in your brain even now. you want her back. not vi, but PinkSage. you thought your interest had distinguished like a flame after learning who she really is, but your current increasing arousal clearly seems to defy that. the two are different sides of the same coin anyway, like a crude mockery of dr jekyll and mr hyde.

you find yourself aching to see PinkSage sprawled on her desk chair and fucking herself stupid. with the notable mask covering half of her face, being a constant goad for the viewers. “face reveal is out of the question, at least for now.” hearing that on stream feels like forever ago.

the memory of her orgasming to your username vertebrates through not just your brain but your entire body. that crack in her voice, the way she was convulsing, her desperate keens…

without any delay, your fingers already making its descent down your underwear. just quickly. it’ll hardly be about her anyway…

yet the door conveniently swings open, making you practically jump out of your skin.

“hey.” what a sweet little coincidence. “thank god, you’re not asleep. you’ve got my shirt, right?”

you gawk at vi rigidly, unable to control how fast and hard you seem to be breathing. of course she notices, and her lips quirk up: ready to say something as always.

“oh, i’m sorry, was i supposed to knock?”

your nervousness is quick to simmer into irritation. must this bitch always interrupt you? even when you’re literally about to jerk off in the sanctity of your own bedroom?

an exasperated sigh leaves your lips. “you talking about this old thing?” you reach under your bed, pulling out her tank top and waving it around. just like how PinkSage liked to do with her toys.

vi’s eyebrows knit together. “you had that shit under your bed? now i’m really glad i’m gonna wash it…”

you hold the shirt out to give it to her, but just as she’s about to grab it you quickly yank your hand back. vi frowns.

“my bad.” you try and hide your grin as best as you can, especially when you pull the same move again, and again.

“yeah, real fuckin’ funny.” vi attempts to quicken her speed, proven futile as you still manage to be faster.

“take it! i’m literally giving it to you.” you snicker, pretending to play coy. vi pounces on the bed, trying extra hard to grab it. it’s really funny seeing her try so hard, and almost cute hearing her huff and groan. almost.

“you’re nearly there, it’s okay!” you chirp, even as you extend your arm even farther away. what you hadn’t thought about was the fact that vi could plainly latch her arms around your body and pull herself up to grab it. when she does exactly that, your breath is taken away; chiefly because her chest is in direct contact to yours, so much so you can feel how hard her heart is beating, notorious pierced nipples crammed against yours. you have no idea if you should call yourself lucky or unlucky.

okay, see, in your defence, you’re acting blindly: internally freaking out by how close you two are. so you do what anyone else would do! frantically push her away… only to nudge your fingers against vi’s boob. you swear it’s nothing but a simple accident, until you hear vi suck in a sharp breath and withdraw like she’d been zapped; eyes widened like two saucers. in the sour of the moment you had forgotten that PinkSage is been famed upon for having a sensitive chest.

you both freeze. guess playtime’s over now.

“um, here.” you tentatively fling the shirt to her. vi almost doesn’t catch it, not with the way her eyes are set on you as if you’ve grown another head.

“you can take a picture, it’ll last longer.” you try to sound funny, pulling a little joke in attempt of relieving you two of this dire situation, but it just surfaces as awkward and stupid instead. besides, vi doesn’t laugh.

“right. have a good rest of your night.” vi’s voice is palpably strained and her words are rushed . so is the way she she leaps off the bed: leaving the room as quick as light. you don’t even know how you should feel right now.

a perverse part of you is glad that you caught her so off guard that she’s as red as a tomato, back to being humbled again. essentially, you’re now one point up in this foolish game so you should be happy, right?

yet another part, a bigger part actually, feels embarrassed and irrevocably guilty. vi probably thinks you’re a disgusting pervert that did that shit on purpose. with the way she left, in so much desperation and haste, who knows if she’s even going to look at you again?

you groan and throw yourself on the bed, palms on your eyes as you madly wriggle and toss around from side to side; trying to shake the utter embarrassment off of you.

this is going to be a long, tedious summer.

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over the next couple of days, not so much as an awkward ‘morning’ is shared between the two of you. the slight closeness that had sprouted has now distinguished like a dying flame, and as much as you’d hate to admit, you feel glum, not to mention bored.

it was an accident, but now vi doesn’t want to so much as be near you, as if you’re some infectious creature. it’s agitating, because it’s making you think a lot. too much. maybe you should just apologise? although resurfacing the shameful memory would be humiliating for the both of you. it feels like it’s too late to apologise anyway, considering the days of silent treatment that has stretched out between you two.

in a way, it feels immature. this has all felt immature.

on a particular balmy afternoon, your dad has the notorious idea of throwing a barbecue party. family friends and even neighbours are invited. in all candidness, you’re pretty excited. your dad is a beast at making good food, especially when you’re there to help him. yeah! that’s exactly what you’ll do: focus on grilling chicken and generally helping out instead of brooding over how weird things got with vi.

but things proves to be very difficult when she always seems to be within sight or hearing reach. the sun has mellowed; granting the sky into hues of twilight. you keep your eyes pointed at the chicken, sausages and corn whilst vi soaks up all of the attention from practically everyone in your garden. even the kids love her: running around and tugging at her for attention.

“here.” vi quickly devises a daisy-chain headband that she gives one of the little girls. the girl timidly takes it before running away to press her face against her father’s back out of thorough shyness. you roll your eyes shut as a string of ‘awwws’ follow after vi for that action. she’s loved everywhere! as if wherever she goes, a trail of flowers bloom behind. it’s sickening.

you let yourself get a good look at her. vi’s wearing a pink polo and washed out-jeans. she looks like any other dad out here, yet somehow managing to make it look better. you prolong your gaze, like penetrating daggers. look at me. look at me like you have before.

“jeez, what, someone’s so hungry she’s considering cannibalism now?” an ardent voice whisks you off your yearning stupor. you recognise it immediately, an excited inhale surging up your throat.

“sevika!” you squeal, practically jumping on her. sevika has been a family friend for longer than anyone else here has. she was your dad’s colleague before moving to the other side of the sea. you two were pretty close. she was unbelievably raw, which led you to receiving the best advice you know you wouldn’t get anywhere else. not to mention, she was also one of the key reasons on how you figured out you were a lesbian.

before you found out the wonders of butch cam-girls, sevika had been the root of all your desires and fantasies. it’s slightly taboo and you know it — considering she’s in the same damn age range as your father, but you couldn’t and still can’t help it. not since your blossoming hormones urged you to see to her in a different way. you still remember being too afraid to tell your friends that the reason why you weren’t crushing on any boys in school was because you were fawning over a brawny woman twice your age instead.

you weren’t expecting to see her here at all. you didn’t even know she was back in town! she’s still as hot as ever, if not hotter, as if growing older doesn’t even phase her. you almost forget all about vi.

“hey, sugar, what’s cracking?” sevika kisses the top of your head and you light up like a damn bulb. her manner of speaking has changed since you last saw her. probably because she moved to the south.

“i’m good. better, actually. since when were you back in town?”

“shhh. surprise.” she winks. oh, and could you blame crushing on sevika when she’s so damn flirty? it’s apart of her nature, delivering flirty remarks so casually. you never look too much into it since you’re sure she’s like that with everyone, yet each time it’s directed to you, you have a guilty pleasure of feeling special.

“who’s the pink haired woman? someone you know?” sevika points her chin towards vi, who’s drinking a beer and making some woman giggle a lot. must they flirt so shamelessly in a family barbecue party? it’s inappropriate, and you don’t even realise how much you’re making a face until sevika points it out.

“she-she’s our guest. staying over for the summer. she does volunteering.” you sounded a little too bitter in your last words there, and that makes sevika laugh.

“you don’t like her?” she takes a swig of her beer, eyebrows knitted together in curiosity. you have to look away.

“she’s… she’s alright. fine.” you feel your skin prickle, probably from all the lies scuttling up your back. no, i don’t think of her as just ‘alright”, because she’s actually my favourite camgirl pornstar who turns out to be really mean yet i still like her and i accidentally touched her boob and now we aren’t talking and it fucking sucks and—

“here. old enough now, ain’t we?” sevika smirks, offering her bottle to you. you hesitantly take it.

“thank you.” you take a large swig, basically gulping it down. you need it. two of your past and present crushes are in the same damn place, it’s overwhelming!

“woah! slow down, baby…” sevika chuckles, drawing the bottle away from you. a bit of liquor oozes from the corner of your lips and you wipe it, gazing at her like you don’t know any better. like a fool who was just born yesterday.

the alcohol warms you up better than the now-dying sun could, and you feel slow. sevika’s gaze seizes you up and down and you gush in more ways than one.

“you wanna dance? the music is good. ‘s my playlist actually.” you find yourself mumbling. alas, here’s the confidence you haven’t felt in a while now. funny how you’re offering to dance when you feel so floaty that you’re losing your balance whilst literally standing.

“you sure? you don’t wanna drink some water instead?” sevika gently guides your chin up, assessing how drunk you are. dedicated lightweight, always have been. you’re lagging on registering her words, but what you’re quick to feel instead is a pair of eyes studying you immediately. you sneak a glance and you’re right to find vi watching the two of you with a slight curious expression on her face. a surge of excitement pulsates through you. here’s the fun. you roll your attention back to sevika and smile, making a show of slinking your arms around her neck.

“i’m all good. aaaaall good.” you giggle. sevika finds all of this entertaining, though oblivious to the way you’ve caught vi’s attention. she gives in, and you guys start to sway along to the music. whilst sevika murmurs in your ear about all the places in the south that she thinks you’d like, your eyes are set on vi’s. it’s intense the way your eyes are locked together, and you relish in the way her jaw clenches when she realises what you’re doing. your fingers faintly grip sevika’s back a little tighter, in a way only vi would notice. for her eyes only.

honestly, vi looks laughable standing there; gawking at you as she is. it propels you to laugh in sevika’s shoulder — a move that seems to be the last straw for vi, because she turns around and storms away. you glance back up and she’s gone.

“everything okay? you hungry or somethin’?” sevika asks. your gaze flicks to sevika, before drifting back to the area where vi was standing, now just a patch of grass.

“sorry, i need the bathroom.” you mutter, hardly coherent as you pull away from sevika and start to slowly stumble your way inside.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

you ignore the way your mother calls for you, or the random people trying to start a conversation. once in the kitchen, you survey the area. there’s some people chatting away but no sight of vi. lumbering your way upstairs, you check the closest room which is your own, only to find some random baby asleep in your bed. definitely not vi.

you peek inside vi’s room, but it’s empty. in your drunken muddle, the possibility of vi being in the bathroom doesn’t even occur to you, and you feel so dizzy that you want to rest in the bathroom for a bit, maybe stare at yourself in the mirror for too long and dreadfully think about your life choices.

swinging open the door carelessly, vi almost yells — until actually noticing it’s you.

“vi?” you blink owlishly.

vi breathes in soft disbelief, shaking her head. “should’ve known you would’ve creeped on me in the bathroom.”

“wha— i didn’t even know you were here! this is my bathroom, you know.” you retort, not even choosing to dwell on the fact that you’d been looking for her.

“i don’t remember asking. get out.” vi grumbles lamely. you glare at her incredulously.

“not when you’re talking to me like that. why are you so mean? you’re always so mean to me.”

it could be the alcohol talking, sure, but it’s real thoughts being spoken aloud. you close the door, locking the two of you in there.

“but then you go ahead and buy a cd for me, and you hold my hand. i don’t like it, but it’s also all i’ve wanted.” you step in front of her, pinning your hands down on either side of the sink so she’s confined.

vi gawks at you, clearly surprised by the boldness, however she quickly composes herself.

“what are you even saying? spittin’ slam poetry at me or some shit?” she scoffs, trying to push past you. you stand your ground, gripping the sink tighter so she has no choice but to stay put and listen.

“i’m not going until you tell me what your damn problem is.”

“i don’t have one.” vi snaps, veering her face closer to yours as a result.

“you’re acting like i planned this! like i plotted for you to come and live in my house. i didn’t ask for this!” you raise your voice.

“i didn’t ask for this either!” vi roars. impenetrable silence infuses the room like a merciless wave. nothing can be heard but the frantic breathing expelling from the both of you. synchronised. your heart pounds against your ribs and hers pounds harder in tandem. hate is a word that has been muddled and twisted into something else. something more, but something less all the same.

“say something or leave—“

you don’t know what exactly propels you to do it, but you choose to shut her up by leaning in and crashing your lips against hers like a meteorite. as if the biggest ‘fuck you’ you could give is through a kiss.

and hell, it may as well be, in the light of the way you’re projecting all your anger and frustration into this, lips roughly moving against hers. vi stands still for a moment, before responding to the kiss in her own manner — relenting and matching your intensity.

you two get yourselves in a frenzy of wildness: teeth clinking together, tongues smothered against each other like theres no damn tomorrow. you grip vi’s hips, pushing her into sitting down on the sink. vi moans in your mouth, and you press yourself against her so closely that her head hits the mirror.

“you fucking bitch…” you whisper exasperatedly, before sinking your teeth in her bottom lip and slightly dragging it, almost drawing blood. vi whimpers, her fingers flying to your hair and tugging it tightly. your noises mate with hers at the tempting sensation of vi’s fingers on your hair. everything about this moment between you two is unbelievably passionate and fervid.

your hands grip vi’s wrists, slamming them against the mirror like a bird with clipped wings. vi gazes at you with meek eyes, making you certain that she’d bend over backwards at your beck and call. her brain is muddled and blank, all because of you. all because of you.

“is this what you wanted?” you whisper into her neck, pressing chaste kisses to the sensitive flesh. vi sucks in a breath.

“w-what?” she sputters out.

“you heard me.” you drag a stripe across her neck, compelling vi to whimper: especially when you nip at her skin.

“answer, pretty girl…” you whisper this like it’s a prayer, serving vi at the altar. vi melts, words slipping from her lips before her brain is able to stop her.

“so fucking bad… you don’t even know…” she whines breathily. you smile at her, loosening your grasp from her wrists so you can slip her shirt off. vi welcomes it, willingly raising her arms so it can come off with more ease. once she’s in she’s sports bra, you let your hand trail down her stomach, the pad of your fingers playing with the cluster of hair on her lower stomach, teasing her waistband with your pinky before purposely disengaging. vi watches all of this through hooded eyes, trying to stifle her pathetic noises by biting her lip.

your gaze flicks to vi’s clothed breasts, metal bars prominently standing out. you unconsciously lick your lips.

“they’re so sensitive, huh?” you put your question to the test by grazing a hand over her chest, in which vi faintly jolts. so cute.

“you should be glad i know everything you like.” your hands slip underneath vi’s sports bra, raising it up and shamelessly playing with vi’s nipples. poor thing cannot compose herself for the life of her, a series of quiet moans and whimpers spilling out of her lips whether she can help them or not.

your fingers roll the buds, eyes trained on vi the entire time — gauging all her reactions. vi’s little whimpers grow into full-blown moans, especially when you latch your lips around her right nipple; sucking and flicking your tongue, feeling the tinge of the metal bar. she’s twitching and squirming, unable to sit still and having no idea where to put her hands. she resolves in gripping the sink tightly, sinking her head back and taking what you’re giving her like a good girl.

“y/n…” vi whimpers pathetically, and you feel your cunt flex in return. you nip at her bud, simultaneously flicking the other one. vi cries aloud and you glance up at her.

“you want the whole damn party to hear?”

vi had clearly forgotten about that. she quietly shakes her head. you’ve managed to get her so compliant that you want to proudly pat yourself on the back.

you resume, your gaze fixed on her as your mouth lavishes attention on the left nipple now. vi isn’t able to hold eye contact with you for long, especially with the overbearing stimulation. her back is bowing frontwards, a silent plea for more. who said you wanted to stop anyways?

it’s your teeth pulling at her nipple that drives vi absolutely batshit, possessing her into jerking so strongly that her hips buckle into yours. you grind against her hips, feeling your own sparks of pleasure. vi’s hand flies to her mouth, trying to keep herself quiet as per your request. you smirk, liking the feeling how you could crush the usual mean, stony vi under your thumb with the pliant woman you’ve got in front of you right now.

“i’m gonna cum— i’m gonna cum, y/n… hah, please…” vi muddles through her words, twitching repeatedly. you grin as you flatten your tongue, feeling the coldness of the metal as you slowly drag your tongue upwards, massaging the nipple with the wetness of your muscle. you kill vi.

vi grunts, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she undergoes a remarkably intense climax. you pull away and watch her in awe, as stars explode behind her eyelids and she spasms a little.

she slumps forward onto your shoulder, panting hard down your neck. your skin prickles with heat as a result, fingers hesitantly reaching up to gently stroke the back of her hair. vi likes it, like a puppy being cared for.

“haah, thank you… thank you.” vi blabbers on your shoulder, her words slurring into a heap of incoherent words. you cup vi’s face with two hands, raising it up so you can gauge how fucked up she looks right now.

“all from a little nipple play, huh?” your thumb traces vi’s bottom lip before faintly dragging it downwards.

“you— know they’re um… sensitive. plus i’ve been pent up. ” vi’s train of thought is slowly starting to come to, but not fully. not with the way she’s struggling to speak. you want to ask more and more questions, just so you can enjoy her sputtering and stammering. but you go for an even better ruse instead.

you begin to lean in again as if you’re going in for a kiss. vi’s eyes repeatedly flick to your lips, her breathing fluttering and quickening its pace. yet just as you’re a stone’s throw away…

“have a good rest of your night.” you purr, before casually walking straight out of the door, leaving vi to gather her tangled thoughts. vi blinks repeatedly, running a hand across her face.

“touché.” she murmurs, pulling her sports bra down and picking up her shirt to put it on again.

meanwhile, you’re trying not to fall down the stairs over how giddy you are. vi got her tit for tat: teasing you before acting as if nothing happened surely came back to nip her in the bud. the score is even and you’re satisfied, hoping that you left vi thirsting for more.

and you would give her more and beyond, if only that meant you would lead through irrefutable punishment first.

chapter 4

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[sempiternalmuze]

Running Through the Halls of Your Haunted Home

Jack Abbott x doctor!Reader who has some problems being loved

tags: dr. jack abbott x female!reader, hurt comfort, reader runs away for a bit (story takes place when shes back), Robby being Jacks best friend, age/jobs not really established, implied not great childhood for reader, jack loves her ohmygod??, jack would never leave her tbh, a bit more flowery than i'm used to writing so let me know, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 2.3k

Five months. That was the timeframe Robby had laid out for you when you'd came to him a few days after Christmas, explaining that you needed a break, need time away from the Pitt, the city, the state. He'd been kind enough to not ask too many questions, but you knew he'd hear it sooner than later directly from Jack during one of their therapy sessions.

So three days after Christmas you packed your bag, grabbed your passport, and changed your number. From one day to the next you had gone from Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center to Portel, Brazil with Doctors Without Borders.

And you lived. You took the time you needed to find your peace again, to pick up the pieces that you had left behind in the dusty apartment Jack and you had shared.

But now it was May-- and Robbie was calling your number every few days. And today when you answered he'd sounded at about wit's end.

"Time's up kid, we need you back here." He sighed, and you could almost see his hand running over his face, tired and no doubt thinking about a fourth—fifth—coffee.

You had stayed silent for a moment, playing with the sheet of your hammock. You glanced at the tents set up by the river, kids running around in a game of tag, parents watching from the sides as they spoke to the other doctors on your crew.

"What if I told you I liked it here more? Then what?" You said, glancing back at the water.

Robby lets out a throaty laugh, one that pulls you away and forces you back to the shuffle of the Pitt. "Because if you did, you would've just said that."

It's a valid point— and true. You wouldn't be asking, wouldn't be hoping he'd tell you any different. You probably would have blocked him, sent an email to Gloria and moved on with your life.

"And I also know what you've got waiting." He whispered. And he was right. You wouldn't just leave like that and not tell Jack. The only reason you had been able to do it the first time was because you knew it was temporary, and small fold in the story you two shared.

"How is he?" The weight was heavy on your shoulders, an invisible force that only left in the depths of night and that was if you were tired enough to fall asleep as soon as your head hit your pillow. Jack was strong, and smart. He'd been through so much worse than a girl who was afraid.

"Well...he visits the roof a lot more now. The first few weeks were...well they were real bad kid." He pauses, like considering what would be too much to tell you. "I offered him to come stay with me, get away from the apartment, but he said he liked it. It gave him a reason to hold on."

Reasons to hold, how very Jack Abbott of him. To want to have hope, to find the reasons even though he wasn't sure where any of it would lead.

"He'd doing better now, I don't have to act like a hostage negotiator too much these days. He comes out to the park with us after work and he makes jokes with the new med students. But he misses you, a lot."

You nodded with a hum into the phone. The sun was so peaceful this time of day, it bounced off the water and on to your skin. You let your eyes close and let your mind drift back to those months ago, from even before the fight, to when things were still solid between the two of you.

Walks in the park after a long shift, hands intertwined as he poked fun at you for your decisions during a shift. The nights spent in bed, room slightly too cold because otherwise you'd burn up with his body heat. Even on the days when it was hard, when his active duty days caught up to him, there was still something to have, because he'd let you hold him, let himself talk and talk about the people and the days of roughing it, of the bad things he saw, of the pain of a leg that was no longer attached to his physical being.

"Kid, I gotta let Gloria know by tonight. Are you back?" Robby's voice broke through the speaker with a crack of static.

"Of course I am Robby."

Now you were running through the airport, hair a mess, sanity hardly in tact. Cassie had been kind enough to come grab you after dropping off Harrison with Chad for the weekend. Today and tomorrow would be your days to get settled, then straight back to it on Monday.

"I've missed you so much!" She squealed, arms wrapped around your center tightly. "You have no idea how much it sucks to have to take on that waiting room with myself and Javadi." She laughs.

"Oh I bet, what would you ever do without me?" You laughed. You held her tight before you both crawled into the car. She started the engine, waving off some security yelling at her and took off.

"How was it?" She asks, face covered in excitement.

"It was amazing Cassie. The people, the pace, the location, all of it was just-perfect." You sigh and throw your head back. "I think it was exactly what I needed."

"That's great." She says. Her tone tells you that there's something else, something on her mind that she isn't saying out loud.

It takes about three minutes of uncomfortable silence and a red traffic light for her to turn to you. "Have you talked to him?"

Cassie was one of about four people who definitely knew what was going on between you and Jack, one of a few who knew lengths you'd go for one another. Her tone is soft, prodding but not overstepping.

"No, Cass I...I didn't want to do anything that might...I don't know, hurt more than it already would?" You sighed. You covered your face with your hands. "I felt horrible, for taking off on him the way I did. But I just...I knew that he'd make me stay."

Cass nods along, listening. She takes your hands in hers, holding it softly over the center console. She doesn't push or try to interject her own thoughts about the whole thing into your mind. She knows you well enough to know that no decision you made came lightly, that it took hours and hours of thought and careful planning.

The light turns green and the car starts moving again. "You don't have to go back so soon. You can stay with Harrison and I if you want to." Cass offers, a small glint in her eyes.

You take a moment to consider before looking out the window. "I need to go back Cass. To my home, to my stuff. I need to go back to him. I ran once but I'm ready. I finally feel ready to face what we left behind." You smile, hands gripping the door handle a bit too tight.

Cass nods and hums. "Just know I'm there. If you need me."

And that's what the conversation is left at. Fifteen minutes later your left staring at your building. Cass offered to go upstairs with you, but you'd elected to face it all yourself.

There were two options that stood in front of you. One, Jack was home, asleep, getting ready to head to bed and face another grueling night shift. The blackout curtains would be drawn and the apartment quiet. Would the floorboards remember your steps or creak under the unfamiliar weight of your long lost body? Maybe they would, and then they'd wake him, and you'd have to explain the last five months of your life to him while he was half asleep.

The other option was simple, he wasn't home, maybe getting groceries before he inevitably came home to crash out on the couch. It had irked you so much when you first started dating. The way he'd get off a few hours before you and offer to do the shopping, just for you to come home and find him asleep in the most neck sore position possible, jacket barely off, jeans twisted too tightly across his legs. But eventually it became a comfort, the way you could rouse him and make him follow you to bed, where you'd help him take off his prosthetic, rip off his scrubs in return for a clean shirt and pj pants. Or sometimes when you were both so tired after a rough day you could snuggle yourself between his arms, him hardly waking up, but still opening his strong arms so you could press against his chest.

And you find yourself hoping it can be like those distant couch sleeps. That he'll be there, asleep on the couch, and you can just lay with him, head pressed against his chest, snuggled right below his chin as his fingers splay over the middle of your back, gripping you as to not let you disappear again.

So when you turn your key into the lock, you take a deep breath. With the click sounding, you push the door open. You roll your suitcase in first, setting it to the side. Then you pause, listening. There's silence, and for a moment you think you're safe. The buzz of the AC when it clicks on startles you, but not as much as the man standing before you.

Jack stands near the couch, hand holding on to it, like he might fall over. He wears a tight black tee, some washed jeans and his tennis shoes. When you finally meet his eyes you see something, a glint of pain? Maybe sadness, maybe shock. His hair is slightly longer along the sides, his facial hair a bit more clean shaven than the stubble you had last seen him in. He doesn't move, neither do you. Its like the saddest cowboy stand off you've ever witnessed.

The click of the door behind you finally breaks the silence. You take a step forward, placing your keys down on the entry table. You can't tear your eyes from his. You wish you could read his face, know where to start on the long list of apologies and begging of forgiveness.

"I know you probably hate me. I know you maybe wish I would have never come back. And I know when I left we were in a bad position, a position that I never wanted to be at with you." Jack opens his mouth to say something, but you're quick to silence him with a raise of your hand.

"But I'm here. I'm here because I love you. Because I never wanted to leave in the first place. And you are the first stable thing I've had in my life since med school." A sudden hiccup burst from you, followed by tears. You couldn't stop it. In an instant your face was crumpled, warm, tears spilling from your eyes.

"Sweetheart..." Jack mutters, marching towards you until his arms swaddled your frame, arms pressing tight around your ribs, fingers grasping at your hair. His face pressed deeply against the crown of your head, and his chest pressed perfectly against your ear until you could hear the thumping of his heart.

"Jack Abbott you— God you fucking took my life and put it back together in ways I didnt think possible. You showed me that I could be loved. I was worthy of love and attention."

You pulled away, Jack's arms still resting across your waist, fingers digging in, as though fully releasing you would mean you walking out the front door forever this time.

"And I ran. I ran because I was so fucking scared that you'd wake up and decide that I wasn't worthy, that you didn't need to be here. And I wouldn't be able to handle that." You glanced at him, and while your vision remained slightly blurred, you found that he was already looking back at you. For a moment you thought pity might be the thing coursing through his dark eyes, but you realized it wasn't even close. It was more like concern, fear.

"I picked that fight because I thought it was the only way to get you to leave. But you didn't. You refused to leave, to give in. And that made me mad." You laugh, wiping your face. Jack cracks a smile, followed by a small chuckle of his own.

"You made me mad because instead of doing what everyone else has done, you planted your feet. And that made me the most scared." You said, staring down at the ground. Jack gave you a moment to collect yourself, and when it seemed your breathing had finally calmed a bit, he took your hands in his, fingers intertwining with his own, his calloused palms pushing against yours.

"I planted my feet because I knew exactly what you were doing." He says, soft, speaking more into your hair than into the open space around you two.

"It was a stupid battle, and you're not stupid, so of course I knew what you were doing. Because I know you, sweetheart." he chuckles a little, the sound vibrating in his throat. "And more importantly, I planted my feet because I wanted to stay. You have never ever been anything short of the most beautiful, loving, smartest, strongest woman in my life. You are the best thing I've had in years." He sighed, his hand lefts yours as it moved up your arm, until it fell onto your jaw, guiding your eyes to his.

"And you put me back together. And I love you for that." He finishes. Neither of you two move, letting each others words swell around your embrace.

Your eyes drop to his lips, soft and kind. He doesn't hesitate, pulling you against him, letting your lips grace each others for the first time in months. You sigh, pressing your body against his. He holds you close as you two drink each other in.

Eventually he pulls away, rests his forehead against yours.

"I've missed you."

ϟ.·:¨༺ ♡ ༻¨:·.ϟ

[lxvebun]

heart shaped kisses (LaDS edition)

synopsis: kisses/How they kiss you

buns notes: I'm pretty new to the game and I'm aware there are kissing cards already, this is just my version of it🫶 guess my fav lol

content : Zayne/Caleb/Sylus x gender neutral reader. Reader is not mc. Fluff. Slightly suggestive. Lovesick!Caleb my beloved. Forehead kisses. Neck kisses. Eng is not my first language so I'm sorry for any mistakes<3 around 800 words♡

Heartshaped kisses m.list (multifandom) lads m.list

୨ৎ Zayne

Despite his cold exterior (or evol), Zayne's kisses are incredibly warm. It's almost as if you're being kissed by a beam of sunlight on an icy winter's day. His kisses are gentle, soothing, and all too easy to melt into. Does he really expect you not to pull him a little closer and keep him with you for just a little longer if this is how he decides to kiss you goodbye in the morning?

His glasses have long been discarded after fogging up the pretty sight of you, and his once-neat button-up is now wrinkled. You're afraid Dr. Zayne may be slightly late for work.

Then again, his alarm did go off a little earlier than usual today.....how odd.

୨ৎCaleb

Ugh this man. I'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. Give him to meeee

He knows what he's doing... Looking at you so tenderly as you talk about your day, eyes soft and admiring, darting from your gaze to your lips and back. He's listening, he is! But every syllable leaving your lips, the sound of your voice so melodic in his ears, makes it hard for him to concentrate. His hands itch to make their way to your waist and pull you into him, his mind already getting a little foggy in a mist of hearts and flowers. He never really asks you to give him a kiss; you've just learned to pick up on his incredibly non-subtle hints. And truly, it would be cruel to resist, no?

But he's as sweet as he is annoying because the moment you lean in, he pulls away. He fixes his posture, stands up to his full height, and looks down at you with this stupidly handsome smirk. He chuckles a little as you roll your eyes at him and sigh. You know what he wants; he knows it's coming. You can tell by the glimmer in his eyes, bordering on giddiness. He likes it when you pull him down by his necklace to meet you in a kiss<3 so curling your fingers around the delicate silver metal, you're barely even pulling as he's already starting to lean down to capture your lips in a sickeningly sweet kiss~♡

Caleb's kisses are passionate. An overwhelming amount of Devotion bordering on reverence bleed into every kiss. Marking a trail from your lips to the softness of your jaw, down to the pulse point in your neck, lingering there before kissing his way back to your lips. Frenzied, it sometimes feels like he craves you more than the air he needs to breathe. Should it scare you? Maybe. But the sweetness of the silent "I love you's" pouring out through breathless kisses and little love nibbles is enough to distract you from the sharpness of his teeth as they near your pulse and the way his hands seem to sink into your skin, a little too rough, a little too desperate for there to be nothing behind it.

୨ৎSylus

"A kiss is the beginning of cannibalism."

You're reminded of this quote every time Sylus kisses you. Feverish. Hungry. Truly, it feels like he's trying to devour you whole in the sweetest ways possible, desperately trying to let some part of him linger on you, melt into you, and become one with the blood flowing through your veins. Trying to burn a permanent place into your body, heart and soul, so you could never, ever forget him.

However, he has his softer moments—kisses that are no less passionate and feverish, but a whole lot calmer. No hitched breaths, no clashing teeth. It's sweet kisses to your cheek whenever you walk past, pressing a few extra here and there as he cradles your face, rubbing comforting circles into your jaw with his thumb before releasing you and letting you get back to what you were originally doing.

And It's soft forehead kisses as you sleep when the slight frown on your face tells him you're having a nightmare. He smooths out the furrow in your brow before pressing his lips there, hoping the kisses trancends into your dream, acting as some sort of protective shield against whatever monster your mind decided to conjure up. He hopes it looks nothing like him.

[asxgard]

Companionship | pt. 6

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: Venting, take-out and unsaid feelings. What a golden combination.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: double update because you guys are great! 😭

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: age gap, foul language, hospital inaccuracies, mentions of patients, mention of an overdose, alcohol, mild angst/anxiety, feelings angst, slowburn

not beta read

Thoughts still reeling from the night only a few days ago, you had vowed to lock away your feelings, find some hole and bury them. It was not good to keep thinking about him in the way you were — he was in your thoughts when you were going to bed, his voice in your ear at your desk at work. It was not good to be so caught up on someone so unattainable. So forbidden.

It still warmed your belly to think about.

Erin watched the way you hovered around your phone, eyebrow raised and smirk forming. You ignored it, trying to focus on your coursework. Marsi had already tried to check in about it — about your “totally not boyfriend” boyfriend, she had said.

“That’s a new laptop.” Erin observed.

Your cheeks blazed. “So what?”

“Did he get you that? Very nice.”

You looked away from your friend.

“Must’ve been like $900.”

Wide eyed, you looked up, “You think so?”

Fuck. That was over twice what he gave you in a month.

“I know so.” She said, with a wide smirk. “Good for you. Slept with him yet? I can see you want to.”

You choked on your saliva, sputtering an intake of breath. “No, oh my god. No!”

Erin looked satisfied before getting back to her studying.

It was impossible to do any of your work after that, moving instead to tear through your refrigerator looking for a snack. Or really something to get you away from Erin’s very perceptive gaze.

Erin offered to take her out for celebratory drinks, but you turned it down. It felt like a bad way to drown out your feelings — but parking yourself on the couch to watch mind numbing tv only seemed slightly better.

Before you could stop yourself, you were clicking on Michael’s contact, staring at your text conversation. Typically he texted first, and it was usually only to set up a time for a phone call.

You clicked call without thinking about it.

Was it really crossing a boundary if the line had already gotten blurred?

It barely rang once before he picked up, “Is everything okay?”

Ten points to me for not even thinking about what to say, you thought.

“Oh, I’m okay—oh, I can see how—yeah, yeah, I’m okay.”

He let out a long breath that almost sounded like relief.

“I just wanted to see if you wanted to talk.”

“I’m actually still at the hospital—”

Embarrassment crawled up your neck to rest at your cheeks.

“—but I can call you on my way home?”

There was only slight ease at his words.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll talk to you later.”

—

Michael was now itching to get off his shift, watching the time tick away painfully slowly, even after seeing countless patients. He nearly sped out of the ED as soon as he gave report to Abbott.

Only a block away from the hospital, he pulled out his phone and clicked on your contact. He briefly wondered what you had wanted to discuss, or if you truly were okay, or if you were just looking for an excuse to talk to him. No, definitely not that last one.

It rang twice.

“Hi, Michael.” You said, your voice soft, lower than usual.

He swallowed thickly, “Hi, you sure everything’s okay?”

You hummed, “Yeah, I’m sorry. I just wanted to talk to you.”

A smile formed on his lips, “It’s good to hear your voice. We had a pretty rough one today, so this…this is nice.”

It was true. A teenager had come in from a fentanyl overdose and there unfortunately hadn’t been anything they could do for her; she was braindead.

“Do you wanna tell me about it?”

He chuckled, “You called me. Did you want to talk about something?”

“Nothing in particular, honestly. But I was thinking…maybe we could get take-out and watch the Penguins game on Friday? If you’re off, that is. And if you actually want to.”

His face lit up, grin stretching across his face at the thought of simply hanging out together.

“Yeah, I like the sound of that.”

“Great! I mean, yeah, awesome. I’ll meet you at yours with pizza or something?” You offered, tone light and breathy.

His grin got impossibly wider, “Pizza is good. Puck drop is at 7:30, so just come by before that.”

You knocked on his door at promptly 7, which startled him — moving around his apartment and ensuring everything was tidy. He took a long breath through his nose wondering why the hell he was so nervous.

He opened the door quickly, taking in your features. You were wearing jeans and a pretty mauve-y colored sweater. You looked remarkably beautiful.

“Let me take that.” He said, taking the pizza box from your hands. It smelled delicious, making his stomach rumble.

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I got half regular and half pepperoni.”

“Can’t go wrong with either.” He said with a smile.

Michael moved into his kitchen to set down the box and grab some plates. You had moved to that spot in the corner with the large windows overlooking the city. He watched your figure a few moments before turning away quickly, feeling like a creep.

“Still just water, iced tea and wine.” He told you, grabbing two cups from his cabinet. “I’ve got beer this time, though.”

“Iced tea, thank you.” You said, turning to look at him. “I really love this view.”

“It came with the apartment.”

You snorted out a laugh, “Was there a fee for it?”

“Only a small hiccup.” Michael said, grinning, “Nosy neighbor a floor below me.”

You pondered it for a moment, looking back out at the darkening sky. “I’d say it was totally worth it.”

You both settled onto the couch with your plates just in time to watch the puck drop. You each made a few comments here and there, mostly about the game, but it was hard to focus with you sitting so close to him.

During the first intermission, Michael found himself complaining about hospital administration.

“You know, they keep threatening to sell if we don’t get our numbers up. They have for a while, and I don’t think they actually will, but satisfaction scores at other places are better. Whatever the fuck that means.”

“It just sounds like they’re shifting accountability.” You said beside him, turning your eyes to glance at him. “I can see them not wanting to spend the money to hire the appropriate amount of staff, so you’re forced to work with what you’ve got. I get budget constraints, trust me, but I know administration usually looks for the cheap, easy solution. It always has been easier to blame someone else.”

He felt incredibly seen, nodding at you. “I feel like none of the talks I have with them actually go anywhere. We’ve had a need for increased security, too, but all my requests get denied.”

You frowned, “That’s bullshit. It’s like they’re setting you up to fail.”

Right before the second period started, Michael grabbed himself a beer, fully relaxing in your company now — his shoulders feeling lighter. The Penguins thankfully had a much better period, scoring a point and tying the game.

It was in the second intermission that the mood slowly shifted, a tension building. Truth was, it had been there from the moment you stepped into his apartment, but he had been successfully ignoring it.

You reached to grab your drink on the coffee table the same moment he went to reach for his beer, your hands brushing. Your face noticeably heated and his heart sped up. Leaned forward, your faces were right next to each other.

Michael looked into your eyes, finding you watching him and not moving, hand still outstretched. You smelled like lavender.

Each second that passed could have easily been an hour. If he moved just a little, leaned down just enough, then—your eyes flickered down to his lips.

Fuck it.

—

Fuck it, you thought, taking in the sight of his brown eyes — wholly captivating. You heart skipped a beat when you looked down to his lips.

His lips were on yours in the next breath, surprising you, but you melted completely into it. You moved your hand quickly to rest along his shoulder, while his came to cup your jaw. It was chaste in its intensity, but not in its length.

He was warm, and his beard scratched against your skin in a way that sent your thoughts racing. His hand was gentle, the other moving to your knee as he moved slightly to fully face you.

You came up for air first, breathing quickly and looking over all the features of his face. You noticed just the lightest touch of freckles along his cheeks and the softest glint of a gold chain around his neck. His face was more relaxed than you had ever seen it, and the smallest hints of a smile touched his lips.

A look of doubt crossed his face in the next breath, and he started to lean away. You chased him to kiss him one more time, just wanting to savor the feel of him before the bubble around you burst.

He accepted it, his hand moving to slip behind your head and hold you to him. As his lips encased your bottom lip, your tongue darted out to meet him. That seemed to be the thing that pulled you both back to their senses.

You stared at each other for a while, so many things unsaid resting between you. The sounds of the third period starting did not even pull your attention away from each other.

“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to ruin tonight.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “You didn’t ruin anything.”

Michael’s eyes lingered on your face, back to your lips before he frowned.

You stressed, “No, I enjoyed tonight.” I’ve enjoyed the glimpses of you.

He just watched you, and you could see the gears turning in his head. You felt desperate to know what he was thinking. Had you overstepped? Sure, he had kissed you first, but you had accepted it.

“I did, too.” was so quiet, you missed it at first.

You felt like you were suffocating under all your thoughts and you stood abruptly.

“I had a good time,” you said, hoping he might catch the hint, make you stay.

Make you discuss it.

“...but I should go.”

He cleared his throat, “Yeah, okay, yeah.”

Michael let you walk out the door, and once you were in the elevator you could not bring yourself to turn back around, run back to him.

Even though that was all you wanted to do.

[ Next ]

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the long awaited kisssssss

[drabblejester]

Ratio, Sampo, Aventurine, Jing Yuan and Mr Reca overhead reader feels about them (basically reader has a crush on them)

how VARIOUS HSR GUYS would react to OVERHEARING YOU CONFESS!

requested by: anon :3

pairings: ratio, sampo, aventurine, jing yuan, and mr. reca x gn!reader

content warnings: none!!

comments: im devouring a pizza rn as of typing this. its so good.. this one is also in bulletted list bc i didnt get any specifications sorry my liege<3

AVENTURINE:

he overhears you talking on the phone in another room, probably to your friend. he isn’t one to eavesdrop but just this once…

he acts very calm about it, totally poker-faced to the point where you think he didn’t hear for WEEKS

until one night he asks you about it, and tells you to talk to him about it more later.

you fall asleep with him, and when you wake up, you tell him as promised!!

he still has to get used to people. y’know. liking him. so he’s a bit awkward for a while, but he warms up! sadly doesn’t soften up for a LONG while though

SAMPO:

he overhears you talking to an interviewer in belobog talking about a ‘handsome blue haired man’

first of all he is FLATTERED that someone in this cold world actually likes him. second of all he registers that someone likes him about 5 seconds later and panics a bit

truly, his whimsical and silly demeanor has captivated you! but it was meant to be for lying and getting away with things, not actual flirting. so he thinks he’s screwed

but he’s NOT screwed! he makes a plan to corner you later in the night to have a bit of banter, but you end up cornering him!!

you two talk for a bit, you talk about how cool and yummy he is. he says it back and you both end up having a great night! maybe a kiss or two persnaps…

DR. RATIO:

he accidentally peeks over your shoulder at your texts (god damn curiosity) and sees you panic texting someone about the Super Duper Hot Professor Man that just so happened to pass by you. and that’s now standing behind you.

now obviously you probably freak out because oh my gods thats the guy RIGHT BEHIND YOU. you turn around and stammer for a bit

sadly ratio just gives you a dirty look (not on purpose) and tells you to seek knowledge, not him. he winds up lecturing you about feelings and professionalism for a good 20 minutes

you go home and wind down for a bit to process the lecturing, and just hang out. you start to have some second thoughts about everything

until a nice little package arrives at your door, with a nice cooked meal and a note that’s a very passive aggressive way of saying ‘take care of yourself’

JING YUAN:

he overheard you gossiping with the guards, and nothing escapes his ears. he didn’t confront you about it right away of course, since he didn’t want to freak you out or anything

so instead, he just played the waiting game. he waited for weeks upon weeks, hearing all the thoughts you thought about him, and every little thing you tried to do to court him

and he’s flattered!! very flattered actually. he decides to eventually send a guard out with a hand written letter to you, simply saying to meet him at a restaurant he found out you frequented

you two meet there, talk for a bit, but not as a general and you. you talk like strangers but in the best way possible, getting to know even more about eachother!! you eat some yummy food and chitchat the night away

and eventually he brings you back to his place, settling you down with some tea and light snacks. maybe a few long-drawn stories to help you sleep. sadly (or thankfully) he ends up asleep before you, so you have extra time to admire him :3

MR. RECA:

he finds out through social media! you broke his ‘no recording in the studio’ rule, posted a blurry video somewhere, and went absolutely crazy over him in the caption

he’s upset that you broke his rule, but at the same time. thinks its interesting. he doesn’t do much else except revisit the post once more before meeting with you

you two meet up in his office, and he immediately brings up the post. of course you apologize so so hard about breaking the rules, but he waves it off!!

eventually the conversation ends up circling around to emotions (with a bit of help from memokeepering), and you spill all your thoughts and feelings right then and there. he’s slightly shocked, but it soon turns to a smile before politely telling you to leave his office

you’re definitely nervous, but it all fades away once you find out you’ve been casted in the main role alongside him! for better or for worse though, it’s a romance production. that asshole.

im fucking up this pizza rn my lieges its so yummy

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tear In My Heart

Aemond never cared for tourneys, for hunts, nor for any sort of pageantry; he supposed marriage fell in that category. To be frank, he never cared for you either, but then he heard whispers about you and his brother, and then thought, maybe he somehow did.

Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader x Aegon Targaryen | 2k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has baratheon feature (dark hair), wife!reader, arranged marriage, jealousy, possessiveness, infidelity, men being men, angst, violence/hunting for sport/death, typos, etc.

A/N: mind the tags! This is part of my graduation celebration 🩷🩷🩷🩷 slayed college. Let's pretend I posted this on schedule lmao. The hotd trailers really brought me to life. Part of this fic is inspired by the 2014 french beauty and the beast film.

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @thebullship @sa3losa @lxdyred

Brother.

What was he?

The word was a stone, heavy but worthless. Nothing ever came from a brother besides bluntness, brashness, and bludgeoning burdens.

No kindness befell Aemond from his brother Aegon. Likewise, Aegon long knew to expect nothing but vexation from Aemond.

Yet even the most broken of bonds are bound back under the great unifier— Death.

Never before had the brothers worked towards a common goal so fast, so easily, and all without needing to utter a word. Together, they carry their game back to their camp, equally ignoring the burn of their arms.

Aemond loathed hunting expeditions. He loathed it then, he wholeheartedly abhorred it now. He regrets forcing himself into this godforsaken trip. He should have let you go on it alone, like always.

He regrets letting his slimy older brother getting under his skin. He regrets listening to all the rumors about Aegon and you. But in his defense—

"I MAY BE BLIND IN ONE EYE," Aemond snaps, causing you to flinch. He had never raised his voice at you like this before. He despises how shocked you look, how your bright eyes accused that he was wrong. It makes him fume, "but I see clearer than most."

Aemond is further irritated when your eyes began to water.

You, who was otherwise so well-kept and pristine, were falling apart in front of him. The wayward strands of dark hair framing your face irked him. The momentary thought of his children inheriting this trait added fuel to his anger. If, that is, whatever child you'd bear was even his to begin with.

"You are whoring yourself to my bovine brother!"

Your chest heaves heavily beneath your nightgown, "you would happily believe any slander to my name."

He scoffs when tears begin to fall from your cheeks. He paces towards the bed, unbothered if the issue is left unresolved. He'd rather sleep than watch you sob. The latter left a rather bitter taste in his mouth.

"What have I been but docile and serving?"

"Serving?" Aemond turns back, one eye narrowed, "to whom? Your greed and lust?"

"TO YOU!"

Aemond slightly pulls his head back, not expecting you to scream. He watches a spirit take over you. It was similar to that of the one that sometimes causes him to stare at you from across the room.

You suck in a breath, "do you not complain about Aegon day in and day out?" You blink rapidly and point harshly, "do you not wish him away and want him out of your hair, husband?"

"Don't you twist the truth for your-"

"I played his keeper so that you wouldn't have to," you motion, "I kept him in check so that you could do your errands, help your grandfather, go on your dragon rides, and yet you say you see clearer than most?"

"I saw you," he hisses, grabbing your shoulders.

You gasp and go rigid.

"I saw you embrace him in the cloak of night, in the corner of the gardens, where you thought no one could see."

You catch betrayal in his words, but it only causes you to chuckle dryly, "had you not lurked in the darkness, you'd have known he vomited on my shoulder and nearly passed out. Perhaps you would have felt compelled to help me drag him to his chambers."

Aemond clenches his jaw. He does not believe you.

You swat his hands away. You shake your head, "you're just a man. You're bored of what you have and want what you cannot."

"Ha. You are delusional if you think I want you."

You cannot help the sound that leaves your lips. You cannot help how you slap a hand to your mouth.

In that split second, Aemond spots the hurt on your face before you walk past him to your side of the bed.

You pull the covers down, "worry not. I've long accepted you will never want me."

"Oh," he growls, grabbing your arm before you can sit down, "and is that why you turn to my brother? Or why you leap at every chance to leave?'"

You wince as you turn to him.

"Now that I think about it, why is it you're invited to hunting expeditions so often?" Aemond demands under an angered breath, "d'you seek refuge in the-"

"I RUN INTO THE FOREST!" you hiss, shoving him away. His grip left a sting on your flesh and you rub it as you continue to burstp, "I run into the forest and let my instincts take over! I let myself shift into a beast and I run wild like a deer, begging to be shot down."

Aemond expression sours at your reaction.

"I live my curse as a Baratheon woman and morph into a doe, bullied by stags and dragons alike," you shudder, tears running down your face.

"Don't you play the victim here," he rebuts, "your family offered you to mine for power."

"Then why is it that I am so powerless, husband?"

Aemond doesn't bother watching you walk away, slamming the door shut on your way out.

Aggravation spills from his mouth through screams when silence drowns him. There is an ache in his chest that intensifies. It doesn't take long for him to question why he felt so hurt when what he was is angry, angry at you.

He then finds himself imagining you throwing yourself at Aegon, weeping on his lap. He imagines Aegon brushing your dark tresses back and drying your tears. It infuriates him more.

And as he convinced himself whilst in fumes that the reason why he hated your leave was how rudely you left, parts of his nightmares where coming true.

Aegon saw you storming down the hall in nothing but a nightgown, a cloak, and tears. He was too drunk to actually ascertain if you had no shoes on, but he was partially sure that there were truly tears running down your neck.

He was shocked by how shocked you were when he grabbed you by the arms and stopped you in your tracks. He knew you to have eyes that could spot a needle in a haystack, or real jewels from fake ones ten paces away. How could you not have noticed him when he wasn't even trying to hide how he staggered down the halls on his way back to his room?

"Spooked, kitty cat?" Aegon furrows his brows.

Your skin definitely had a damp sheen to it. Your gaze upon him somehow always hurt his thorax but it was amplified now with how puffy and red your eyes were.

"Where 'r'you storming off to?" he slurs.

You push him away, but even then you managed to offer consideration, as it was clear he was one shove away from dropping. You say, "unhand me, Aegon. I have no time for you tonight."

He pouts, blinking slowly, "and here I thought we were friends now."

You laugh. Your laugh has always had the power to make his spine tingle, but it was different this time. You shake your head, "the enemy of my enemy is not my friend."

Aegon slowly releases you. He clenches his jaw and sighs, "so it's Aemond who did this."

You scoff as you break away from him, "oh, spare me."

He watches you walk away from him. He feels hurt by your coldness. How quickly Aemond reaps your warmth. He calls out, "from what?"

You stop and snap from over your shoulder, "from whatever it is you think you can do!"

He was sober now, and his throat was dry at that.

"My burden is mine. I am his wife."

"And am to be king," he whispers, taking a step forward. He watches as you heave. He's long wondered what it would feel like to hear it as you did so beneath him.

"But you are not king," you reply, stepping back to maintain the space between you, "and you have your sister wife."

"Who would deny me?" he peers his face closer to you, "even a fool would deny me nothing."

"I would," you rebut.

He freezes.

"I am prize to you," you muffle out. Your manage an even voice even as hurt baptizes your cheeks, "meat between your teeth. You and him are cut from the same cloth."

"I AM NOT MY BROTHER, " Aegon snaps.

You flinch, just as you did Aegon. You shake your head and force a smile, "of course not, your grace."

The next moment, Aegon realizes he may not have been as sober as he thought, considering how quickly you fled him and how delayed his reaction to it was.

But then again, it was probably just you and your effect on him. After all, he managed to evade the incoming attack from behind, albeit momentarily; Aemond's senses were far shaper than Aegon's.

He grabs his older brother by the collar and shoves him against the wall. "All my life, I watched you be spoon-fed your desires, yet still you covet my bride," the younger Targaryen rages.

Aegon grins in challenge. He chuckles, "as it appears, you covet your own wife from me, brother."

Without warning, the first born is hurtled to the ground. He lets out an undignified grunt after he collides with the stone. He gasps when Aemond lunges at him.

It was only at this moment, he realized his brother without his eye patch. Dare he say that the sight of the sapphire added to the madness in is functioning eye.

Aemond produces a dagger and presses it to Aegon's neck. The former seethes, "I have every right to demand satisfaction from you."

Aegon groans when the cold steel kisses his skin too tenderly.

"You wouldn't last a second against me," the prince spits with venom, "brother."

"Do it then," Aegon screws his eyes shut, "and watch your marriage crumble before your very eyes."

Aemond throws his dagger to the side and slams Aegon once, "DO NOT TRY TO TRICK ME! I saw her reel from your touch."

"Oh," he utters through pain, "just as she reels from you, I bet."

Aemond releases him with a growl and heaves while looking down at him. He paces around; Aegon props himself up on his elbows, slowly coming to a stand.

Before Aegon can goad him on any further, Aemond grabs his dagger and pushes past him.

Both of them anxiously await your return that night. Aegon falls asleep whilst waiting for word from a servant, Aemond fights sleep whilst waiting for you to return to bed.

Yes, in Aemond's defense, the rumors about you and his brother was enough reason to pick a fight. In his defense, it was his right.

And for the first time, when you received invite for that hunting expedition with your cousin, no longer did he send you off on your own. He was keen to keep you at his side at all times, especially because Aegon weaseled his way into joining.

Aemond did not know why your cousin was so against the idea of hunting a stag. He was, in fact, offended by the Baratheon's adamant decline. The lesser lord dared even imply such a beast was beyond his caliber. He wasn't surprised you sided with your him, imploring Aemond to try his hand another season. What spurred him on was how Aegon agreed with you and how you looked at him when he smiled your way.

Yet, the spite he bore for his brother was the same thing that led to cooperation with him.

That night, when you thought he was sleeping, Aemond followed you outside. When you were nowhere to be seen when he got out of your shared tent, he stormed to his brother's, sure to catch you in the act.

All he got was a startled brother, cuddling up to a pillow when he ripped his blanket off, a naked one at that.

And after a bit of arguing, Aemond saw a shadow of a deer passing outside the tent. That was how the brothers ended up in the forest. Aemond was intent to hunt that stag and Aegon was intent to watch him fail.

Again, in his defense, it was dark. In his defense, of course he wouldn't believe Aegon when he said that they were stalking a doe and not a stag.

Aemond was satisfied with his shot when he heard the beast cry out in pain. Aegon was satisfied when they found the writhing deer to be, in fact a doe.

It was common knowledge not to hunt the female of a species, yet the two debated whether or not they should let the injured animal go free or put it out of its misery. They thought they received the answer when the animal dropped in agony, but instead they received horror that would last them lifetimes upon witnessing the beast morph into a bride.

Your bare body laid before them, stomach pierced with an arrow. No traces of a doe was left, there was only pain and you. Tremors took over your body. Yolur tears flowed as steady as the blood from your gaping wound.

Aemond fell to your side, eye wide as he reached out to you. He thought a touch of your trembling flesh wake him from this nightmare, but it didn't. His mind raced, but he had a moment of clarity when he felt your blood dampen his knees.

He took off his shirt and covered you. You screamed in pain when he tried to carry you by himself, and he glared at his brother when he tried to help.

Aemond does not stop him however, thus, the brothers carried your body back to camp.

When you were laid on your shared bed, Aemond ordered Aegon to wake everyone and ready a carriage back to the city. His brother runs off to do just that.

"This will hurt," Aemond tells you, "but I must cut part of the arrow and bind your wound."

Before he can do so, you wet his face with the blood on your hand as you whine, "why do you weep for me?"

Aemond's brows furrow.

You swipe your thumb on his cheek with great difficulty. "Soon you will have the freedom you desire," you mumble, eyes slowly closing, "as will I."

The pain that courses through you when your husband breaks off part of your arrow prevents you from passing out.

As an extra precaution, Aemond taps your cheek, "keep your eyes fixed on me."

Your sad eyes open. Your tears gush down like rain.

"Is this why you're invited to hunt so often?" he cups your cheek, shaking you slightly, "does your cousin, himself, turn into a stag?"

Your reply does not come easy. You speak between your breaths, "it is a curse from my father... for hunting so many of them..."

There is commotion from outside your tent.

Aemond has the mind to grab some fabric to press on your wound. You cry out again because of this.

"Why didn't you tell me of your affliction?" he speak in panic.

Stabbing pain cuts off the laugh you meant to laugh. Your breath shortens, yet you manage a response, "would you have listened?"

He must admit, all the prayers he ever prayed were only uttered to please his mother, but as Aemond held half your body in the carriage back to King's Landing, as he watched Aegon's tears fall onto you while he held your other half, he prayed as earnestly as any pious man would. He claimed he would be better, he would even share you, if that is what it took to keep you.

And just as easily as Death unified the Targaryen brothers, she collected your soul the same night.

[danrifics]

good morning i have slept a total of 2 hours here’s my spoiler breakdown for terrible influence antwerp

they start by playing a text to speech voice who welcomes us and the straight boyfriends and the dads (they’re a bit obsessed with the dads i’ll be real) the voice tells us if we film she’s gonna sue are asses. text to speech lady she is an icon

dnp come out and they’re like yo this is cool it’s the first show, you guys are gonna see what we’ve been up to and then they’re like it’s the first show so we can use you guys to decide if we change anything

they they’re like there’s probably people in the audience who don’t really know us so they do a 15 years of dan and phil lore breakdown with dolls of themselves in little set of iconic dnp locations (made by pj and sophie btw) they put these sets in a table in front of a camera and it shows on the big screen, (for 1 section of this the screen doesn’t work for the first part lol) also phil makes the dolls kiss and they also make the dolls hump the breakfast bar cos of course they do

i can’t remember what happens next or maybe it jumps right into the next thing i mention

they play a game show called role model or no-model which is a madlibs style game where you have to decide if the version of dan and phil the audience creates is a role model or not these are compared to real dnp. we had homophobic furry lawyer dan and linguistics dr phil wo has a thing for hamsters. just an fyi for this dan is really good at hearing what the audience is saying and phil is not at all and im pretty sure he made his up cos he couldn’t understand what we wanted

okay so after this iirc they start talking about the youtube landscape and what they’re gonna do after tour and how to keep people entertained and they go on a little adventure through different genres of youtube like minecraft lets plays, vtubers and then they pretend to be mr beast and pretend to give away a bunch of stuff that they don’t have, they cure us of any mental health issues and they cure us from being gay <3

then they decide to have a boxing match cos obvs that’s what youtubers do, they ask us to cheer for whoever they want to win and it has cool intro to it! i’ll be honest this boxing match goes on for entirely too long like it spans the end of the first half and the start of the second but they have like choreographed fighting and OMFG it’s very gay and like suggestive and they do many times look like they’re gonna have sex 😂 like one of phils moves is to hit dan with his ass while dan is holding him from behind so… yeah. anyway dan thought he won ours and then phil knocked him out with a tv, as he should!! also before they end the first half they’re having an insult match where phils tells dan hes gonna burn his house down only for dan to say they live in the same house and i was dying it was so funny, phil also calls dan a dickhead and this is where he also calls him a cunt and that’s how the first half ends. oh also phil has a fake 6 pack on and that’s the $300 dollar silicone btw

okay second half after dan is dead they have a sincere moment and then they’re like you guys keep telling us you want load of long unedited content and they ask us to tell them a topic to monologue about and someone shouts feet and they rant about feet lmao phil excitedly tells everyone he has a better wiki feet rating than dan

then dan goes on a rant about being discriminated against as a millennial (can’t remember how we got there) and phil gets bored and starts watching subway surfers and i’ll be real honest as a gen z i instantly got distracted by subway surfers and didn’t listen to what dan was saying (that was the point tho) and phil keeps turning up the volume and dan gets mad and he storms off

we have a nice sincere moment with phil but idk what tf it was cos neither did phil 😂

then suddenly a voice, oh here she comes, she asks if we’re ready to confess our sins and out comes sister daniel, everyone fucking loses it, if you heard me screaming so loud no you didn’t.

anyway they read some confessions (phil is father philip) and they read out a few including one from @dnphobe !!! phil has a water gun that he didn’t have when he was meant to and couldn’t find and then found and he was spraying it at people to cleanse them of their sins which is what they meant by people being in the splash zone btw also phil sprayed it at dan it was kinda cute

okay so they say they need to go and get changed and they head off stage and there’s a gag where they leave the microphone on and they’re purposely making it sound sexual and it’s so funny and then dan comes out and phil doesn’t cos he’s struggling with his leather fucking trousers that was a completely unscripted part for sure

then they talk about the hiatus a bit and how dan left us and they keep calling us their family and brb while i cry my eyes out

then they pull out a fucking banger of a song, like i can’t even explain to you how good it is, it has a fully like kpop style dance to it that im gonna fucking learn lmao and dan was so good at it like im not even kidding that man was pulling moves!! phil was doing great too btw but he definitely wasn’t as confident in it as dan was but damn it’s the best song yet imo!!

also i forgot to write the conspiracy bit because i forgot where in the show it is but on one of them they were trying so hard to make us say the opposite one but we were literally forcing tour bus on them and yes they confirmed they shared a bed on that tour bus!! and they played it off like its okay for friends to do that (cos it is) but they way they said it was that thing again where they blur the line a little so we know what they actually mean but still pretend they mean something else

okay some little things i remember that i didn’t write above

- “i can’t imagine my life without you”

- “it’ll be 15 years in december” (if you know you know)

- the absolute silence after they confirmed the bed thing cos none of us were actually expecting it

- dan had to prompt phil a little to remind him what to say next but it was very cute

- they kept looking at each other in *that* way

- phil lied to us about when norman died cos he had norman merch coming out

- sleepless night with phil 3 is fake!!

- they showed *that* video of phil asleep on the tour bus

- there were multiple times where i thought they’re gonna kiss right now???

-phil called dan kinda sexy

- ALL IS FORGIVEN, ANYTHING FROM THE LAST WE MIGHT HAVE DONE IS FORGIVEN THEY LOVE US WE ARE A FAMILY THEY ARE LITERALLY OUR DADS

[norrisidous]

I had this as a dream and I woke up all grumpy because I wish it was real 😭😭😭

Basically, reader is a reserve driver for Mclaren but also in f1 Academy, and she and Lando have always been super close. One day, she has to race instead of Oscar, and she ends up leading the race. However, near the end she asks the team to swap with lando (who she kept within DRS to help him out) because she knew he could use the points more than her since she's not an official f1 racer. Lando refuses, and reader wins her very first race. Lando is overwhelmed by how much he loves her and he just marches up to her and pulls her in from her waist to kiss her (could be private or public) and they're both just so proud of each other and so down bad 🥹🥹🥹

In the Slipstream

summary: where a surprise victory, a selfless offer, and a kiss at the finish line—some moments change everything, on and off the track. warnings: none

You never really expected to race in Formula 1—not yet, anyway.

Being McLaren’s reserve driver was already a dream you clutched tightly, and your time in the F1 Academy was sharpening your edge, day by day. You were grinding for the future, for the chance that maybe, if the stars aligned, you’d get that one golden shot. Still, you didn’t expect it to arrive on a cool spring weekend in Imola.

Oscar had come down with a stomach virus—something violent and sudden. When the team principal tapped your shoulder that morning, the pit lane buzzing behind him, you felt your stomach flip in sync with the revving engines.

“You’re up.”

You didn’t even have time to be nervous. It was all a blur—briefings, simulator data, seat fitting, strategy talk, and a surprising amount of people suddenly treating you not like the F1 Academy kid, but like McLaren’s actual second driver.

And then there was Lando.

He was always your rock. From the earliest days at the McLaren simulator to now, he was the constant thread in the chaos. He teased you like an older brother when you first joined, but somewhere along the line, it shifted. Quiet moments in the motorhome, texts that lingered, eyes that held yours just a little too long. The bond between you deepened—unspoken, but undeniable.

As you stood side by side before the race, helmet in hand, Lando bumped his shoulder against yours.

“Nervous?”

You smiled, adjusting your gloves. “Terrified.”

He grinned, green eyes twinkling. “Good. That means you’ll be sharp.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest spread like fire.

The race began in a flash.

Lights out. Your start was electric. Years of F1 Academy training and sim practice paid off instantly. Clean overtakes. Smart tire management. You quickly moved through the midfield, shock and awe blooming around you like wildfire.

And then… you were leading.

Not by much—but enough to see the papaya blur of Lando’s car in your mirrors, stuck tightly in your DRS range. You’d coordinated perfectly without speaking, both of you playing the strategy game like chess masters. You gave him DRS when he needed it, pulled when it counted, and he protected your tail like a guardian.

But you knew what was at stake.

You weren’t supposed to be here—not permanently. This race didn’t count toward a championship for you. For Lando, it could mean everything. A podium. A shot at the title. Or even just the points to prove himself in a field that always underestimated him.

So with ten laps to go, your voice broke over the radio, steady but full of emotion.

“Tell Lando… he can take the win. I’ll open the door in sector two.”

There was silence. Then the engineer’s voice returned, startled. “Say again?”

“I want him to take it. I’ll back off.”

More silence.

Then a voice crackled in—his voice.

“Don’t you dare,” Lando snapped. “You earned this. I’m not taking it.”

Your throat tightened. “Lan—”

“No. You’re not giving it away. Not to me. Not to anyone. Finish this.”

You blinked rapidly, fighting the sting in your eyes as the turns blurred.

Lap after lap, he stayed on your tail—but didn’t challenge. Not once. Just close enough to show he was there. That he believed in you.

You crossed the checkered flag, engine screaming, heart slamming, and your name ringing through the paddock for the first time in F1 victory.

Race winner: (Y/N), McLaren.

You pulled into the pit lane, overwhelmed, hands shaking. The team was screaming over the radio, cheering like mad. You climbed out of the car and tugged your helmet off, letting the cool air hit your sweat-damp hair.

And then—he was there.

Lando walked straight toward you with purpose, jaw tight, eyes wild. No words. Just energy.

Before you could say a thing, he reached for you, hands gripping your waist, and pulled you flush against him.

Then he kissed you.

Hard, desperate, and real.

The paddock didn’t exist. The cameras didn’t matter. All you felt was him. His hands. His breath. The quake of his chest against yours.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, eyes still shut.

“I’m so damn proud of you,” he whispered. “And I’m so in love with you.”

Your breath caught.

You couldn’t stop smiling. Couldn’t stop crying. The win, the adrenaline, the months of quiet longing—it all came crashing down in that single moment.

You held his face gently, brushing a thumb over the smear of sweat at his temple.

“I love you too,” you said softly, voice cracking. “I wanted you to win because I love you.”

He shook his head, still smiling.

“I wanted you to win. Because you deserve the world.”

The press didn’t let it go.

That kiss was everywhere. The headlines blared: ‘MCLAREN’S SURPRISE STAR STEALS HEART AND WIN’, ‘F1’S NEWEST POWER COUPLE?’, ‘Lando and (Y/N): Love in the Fast Lane’.

You didn’t care.

That night, after the whirlwind of interviews and champagne and congratulations, you sat together on the edge of the hotel balcony, legs tangled under a shared blanket. The Italian moon cast a silver glow over everything.

Lando rested his chin on your shoulder. “So… world champion next?”

You laughed softly. “One race at a time.”

He kissed your neck. “Then let’s make it the most beautiful one yet.”