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icedmatchatae · 1 year

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Good for Me | KTH

Pairing: Bad Boy Taehyung x Wholesome Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut, PWP (porn with plot LMAO),

Summary: You went home for the weekend, leaving a pissed-off and bruised-up Taehyung dry and devastated. So what does he do?—follow you home. Insane? Probs, but you’re always good for him so why not?

Warning: OC’s parents are those strict nosy parents who still tell you what to do even if you’re 50 years+, mentions of Christianity hfrowhouw SUE ME, i have no idea what oc and tae are but you know there’s something, mentions of violence, blood, fighting, sneaky sneaky, dom tae x subby reader but tae is needy and whipped for her, he’s just a little shit, tae has a favorite curse word—it’s fuck, TAEHYUNG IS HUGE AND HUNG, aggressive handling (but oc consented), degradation/praise combo, pet names (because I’m a simp), oral (m. and f. receiving), fingering, spanking, tae enjoys seeing oc cry, licking, i think i have an obsession with orgasm control/denial, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, unprotected sex (don’t be like them), cream pie, cum play, the ending though MWAHAHAHAH

Word Count: 7.8k

A/N: I’m adding on for the taewhores and also wrote one lol BLAME THE FUCKING ELLE COVERS BECAUSE THIS SHOT OUT OF MY BLEEDING VAGINA DJDBDBSB I’M REPENTING AFTER THIS also cross-posted on AO3. Posting this at 2AM because that's when the feral wolf comes out :D

“You know ___, you shouldn’t be going out and partying. What if you do drugs and we don’t know? You know you should focus on yo—”

“Dad, for the last time, I’ve been focusing on my studies.” You rolled your eyes, not wanting a whole ‘nother lecture when you’re here, and you got here today! “I rarely go out too, plus if I do, I know I have to finish my work! You’ve seen my grades!”

“Yes, I know but still. Those worldly activities won’t get you anywhere in life but trouble.” Your dad expressed his continuous concern for you. He can’t help that you were his youngest. “Especially with boys! I mean your sisters have boyfriends but we don’t want that for y—”

“Dad, please. Nothing’s going on with me.” You semi-lied. You pinched the bridge of your nose before you stared exhaustingly at him. “It’s also not fair, but I don’t want to get into that.” You muttered under your breath as your father rested his hands on his hips.

“I’m just worried about you, sweet pea, especially since you’re farther away from us than your sisters were.” He reasoned worryingly. “We rarely hear from you too.”

“Because I’m just tired and I’m usually studying.” You shrugged. “I’m safe, okay? If I’m not, I know to call you or mom.”

“Fine…” He still didn’t look convinced, but it was enough to end it…for today only. “I always pray for your safety regardless. You should get some sleep since we’re waking up early tomorrow for the church fellowship.”

“I still don’t know why you wanted me to come for the weekend.” It was random and unexpected. But your father called you a couple of days back telling you to come back home for the weekend, so as a good and obedient daughter, you did.

“Of course, you needed to come.” He said like it was obvious. “As the pastor of the church and the one who’s hosting it, I’d like all my children to come.”

“But why aren’t the other two here?” You questioned. You haven’t seen your two older sisters yet.

“I mean they live around the area, unlike you since you’re hours away. We figured that they’ll meet us over there.” He responded.

Great, you were the only one and had to deal with both of your parents for the entire weekend alone. At least your mom was already sleeping, but once she wakes up, it’ll only be twice as worse.

“Alright, well, I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.” You announced before hugging him. “Good night, love you.”

“Love you too, sweet pea, and remember, dear, the Lord is watching.” Your father pointed upwards, indicating the invisible yet existent one. You gulped before nodding obediently and going under your sheets. Before he left your room, he held the doorknob and said, “No boys, and don’t forget to pray!”

“Okay.” You didn’t even bother to look at him as you were situating yourself comfortably in bed. The bedroom lights were clicked off, yet the only light source was your bedside lamp. You heard your door closed shut and the sounds of his heavy footsteps disappeared away from your room before letting out a relieving sigh.

You don’t even know how long you could keep like this. There were many reasons why you wanted to be away for college, and this was one of them. You cheered yourself on right now, knowing that it’s just this weekend and you’ll be back in your freedom in no time.

This was where prayer came in handy, asking for the amount of strength and patience you’ll need with your parents. But it was all interrupted by the blue light and vibrations coming from your phone resting on your nightstand. This sigh you let out was more exasperated than before. You turned your head in that direction. You couldn’t really what was on it at this angle, but you definitely knew who it was.

You snatched your phone to find the 43 messages, 12 missed calls, and 2 voicemails from the one and only Kim Taehyung.

You honestly don’t know how you got into this mess, or how you weren’t able to get him away (probably because you still wanted him to be within reach). But the cycle continued.

It was probably because you were new to that town, having no background about your new hometown, and usually, those who lived there continued to stay there. You were fresh meat. But don’t get it wrong, people were nice and brought you in like you were always part of the community. You found new friends, even living with a girl who treated you so sweetly and caringly. It almost felt like they wanted to protect you from something…or rather someone.

That happened to be Taehyung.

You see here, folks. Kim Taehyung had a…infamous reputation. His name always got a reaction since the day he came into the world. What that meant was people were afraid of him. He grew up as a delinquent, had some family issues, got into loads of trouble, got suspended from school, was shipped to boarding school but got expelled and came back, and even got into countless fights. You recalled someone mentioning he once beaten his teacher up because he got a low grade that he shouldn’t have deserved.

He tended to get what he wanted. It didn’t help the fact that he came from a pretty well-off family, so whatever he did, it didn’t reach the police. Right? Fucking rich people.

Nevertheless, Taehyung’s behavior with or without his familial status was rogue. There have been rumors about him getting into gangs, drugs, you know the typical dark side of society. You couldn’t confirm nor deny it because despite his willingness to tell you, you never wanted to hear anything about it. Ignorance was bliss under this circumstance.

With that being said, when you first came here, you were instantly warned to stay away from him or else…You reasoned with, “or else what?” But then they proceeded to say the same things to you—he was dangerous, he harms others, he doesn’t care about anyone else but himself, if you’re in his way, he’ll wipe your entire existence away, and your life would get fucked up.

You did in fact listen and stayed away. You rarely knew of him or even saw him around, but it was better safe than sorry. Of course, fate begged to differ.

Oh, that’s right. That’s how you got into this mess. You were partners with him in a general requirement course, and then after briefly talking to him, you realized he wasn’t all that bad.

First off, the dude was immaculate looking, like, who wouldn’t want to stare at his chiseled features? Yeah, he stared intensely almost like he wanted to kill you, but it affected you in other ways. His voice was cavernous and velvet like you wanted him to read the Bible to you.

He looked annoyed, yet he was a chill dude. There you thought—give him a chance and a break.

Oh boy, you thought wrong. So so wrong.

But did you love it? Absolutely.

This was why you needed to repent.

You didn’t even bother reading his texts. You decided to call him and annoyingly sat up from your comfortable position. The call didn’t even ring twice because, after the first one, he answered immediately.

“Petal, where the fuck are you?” He shouted through the phone. You squinted to yourself but weren’t as affected by his tone since you were used to it by now.

“I went home for the weekend.” You simply replied.

“And didn’t fucking bother to tell me?”

“It was a last-minute thing, and it slipped my mind.” You shrugged, then you pulled your blankets off of you to get up and habitually pace around the room while you talked. “Plus, you don’t have any authority to know where I am.”

“I absolutely do have the authority whether you like it or not.”

“Ew, red flag, why?”

“I need to know if you’re safe.” His voice subsided this time, knowing he was probably pouting yet you couldn’t see it. Okay, this was rather valid since you were associated with the bad boy of the town.

“Well, I am safe. I’m away from school and all of that.” You blushed, feeling the butterflies in your stomach. “I’m with my parents too. My holy parents, might I add.”

“Right, holy parents and your holy sisters who got married to other holy men.” You could hear the sarcasm leaving his mouth. “Yet there’s nothing holy about their slutty little girl and the man that’s been fucking her to hell.”

“Shhhhh, don’t say stuff like that, Taehyung!” You whisperingly yelled as you stopped your pacing to clench your legs together. You always hated how much of a potty mouth he was. Though you internally loved it. “You know I don’t like that.”

“Come on, Petal. I’m just lightening up my mood, especially since you left me.”

“I won’t be gone for that long. It’s only the weekend, and I’ll be back in no time.” You resumed your pace before standing in front of your window with your back facing it.

“That’s too long for me to not have you.”

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do!”

“You can come back, Petal.”

“No, I can’t!” You shook your head. “My parents will get mad if I leave, for a boy too.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to let you take.”

“Taetae, no!” You were trying to stand your ground. You already had four lectures with your parents, you can’t argue with him right now. “I need to sleep, it’s getting late too!”

Though his heart fluttered at the use of the nickname, he was getting pissed off that you weren’t being a good girl for him. “Babydoll, be careful with your words. I’m warning you.” His voice went an octave down, shocking your body especially your cunt. Even hundreds of kilometers away, he had such a powerful effect on you.

“I am being careful! With everything. Now please, I have to get up early tomorrow. Good night, okay Taetae? I’m sorry.” You rushed your words in fear that you were getting too loud that your parents might hear.

“This isn’t ov—” You didn’t let him finish because you decided that this conversation was over. You didn’t want to get into trouble on both ends, but your parents scared you more than him. They’ll probably want to purify you if they found out you were stained by the lustful demon-like Taehyung.

Despite ending the call, here came Taehyung calling you over and over again. You could not be bothered with it, so you settled it back onto your nightstand. You were exhausted, frustrated, and horny, but sleep was above all right now. You had to bite your tongue and go to bed.

You were about to get back into your sheets when suddenly your window from the second level of the house opened, and a gust of wind pushed its way inside. Your head snapped back at the speed of light, then a large palm covered your entire mouth before you could scream your heart out.

Though in low light, your wild widened eyes saw his face. But what sparked you was his concerning appearance. While disheveled ebony hair was pushed back with little strands falling off his forehead, yet there was a deep cut with dried-up blood around its corners. Hues of purple and yellow covered his rich eyes that gleamed in the night whilst glaring deeply into your soul. The perfect bridge of his curved nose had another pained gash. His ever-so-plumped lips were peeled and split open and the corner of his mouth held bruising. Despite all, he looked so perfect in your dazed eyes.

“Good night, okay Taetae?” At a lower volume, he mimicked your voice at a higher pitch than how you actually sounded. He dropped his hand off of you and started waving both hands around. “Oh, look, I’m ___. I need my rest to go to church with my pastor dad and repent all the nasty shit I do with my Taetae.”

You didn’t even bother to point out how he was inaccurately impersonating you because you were shushing him to shut up. “Taehyung, be quiet. My parents could hear you.” You shook your head, eyes shifting from the closed door to him. Then you realized it wasn’t locked, so you rushed there to lock it immediately. You checked the knob and once it didn’t budge, you peered back at the frustrated man standing tall and intimidating. “How did you even find me?”

“I always find you.” He snorted as his eyes roamed around your childhood bedroom. Very pink with an unhealthy amount of plushies scattered around and you had so many pictures of your family. Not to mention the Bible at your desk. “We also share each other’s location.”

“I don’t even look at yours.”

“That’s your fault.” He retorted back.

“Taetae, you’re all bruised up!” You gasped as you finally saw patches of blood stains on his denim and army fabric jacket. A sleeve was torn and ripped. His knuckles held more bruising cuts and discoloration. You couldn’t even process that he had no shirt underneath because battered markings painted his torso. It wasn’t unusual to see him like this because these things occurred regularly but never made you less at ease. You reached for his hands and inspected for any other cuts and bleeding. “Noo, do you feel like you have a concussion? Is your head also okay? Will you need stitches agai—“

Out of nowhere, his long fingers grasped under your jaw, pulling you closer to his face. His grip tightened, causing you to wince in pain. Dang, he was so furious. Not bothering to answer you, he interrupted your worries. “Now the fuck you were doing, talking back at me and hanging up? You’re not being a good girl right now.”

Though you were in a light panic for him, you didn’t like when he scolded you like that. You frowned profoundly, “I-I’m a good girl, Taetae.” Your cheeks were puffed and squishy, he even struggled to put a hard exterior.

You were always so soft even before him. You didn’t like getting scolded despite hearing numerous lectures from your parents. You always wanted to be obedient to those you loved.

However, Taehyung’s scoldings hit a little differently.

“Oh yeah, does a good girl leave their man without permission?” Taehyung patronized you, he knew how to get you to fear him. You merely shook your head and apologized, but he wasn’t having it. “Words, Petal. Speak up.”

“No, they don’t. I-I’m sorry, Taehyung.”

He lets out a dark chuckle before he pressed his injured lips to your forehead. They felt soft and warm on your skin. “I don’t think you’re sorry, babydoll. Seems like the bad girl needs to be punished.”

You shook your head, lips pushing out into a pout. “No, please.” You breathed. “My paren—”

Taehyung tutted and rolled his eyes before using the hand that held your face to coerce your head down so you can drop down to your knees. “Kneel before me, slut.”

You whimpered weakly as your knees landed on the ground with a loud thud. Your palmed rested in front of his dirtied boots. Your heart palpitated fast in fear of getting caught, but your mind was preoccupied with the unexpected slap from the man before you.

You bit your lips deeply, trying not to make any more sounds. The tears in your eyes threatened to be released but you also held back by squeezing your eyes shut. More so to not give Taehyung satisfaction. But when you peeled them back open and looked up, it was over for you.

He leered down at you, his stone demeanor expanded by the second. You noticed his naked chest raising harshly from the breaths he took. You immediately felt smaller and smaller the longer you stared at each other in this position.

“Be a good girl and take my cock out”. He commanded as he threaded his fingers through your hair and yanked you closer. “Now.”

You didn’t hesitate any longer. Your trembling hands tugged his belt off. You tried your best to quicken up the pace, but it seemed to hold you back as you struggled with the button pants and zipper. Taehyung noticed too so he fastened his grip on you to tell you to hurry up, making you weep.

“S-sorry.” You apologized quietly but it wasn’t enough for him. Once you pulled his pants down, you were met with a familiar bulge in his underwear. When you freed him, his monstrous dick slapped his toned stomach and bounced before you.

Taehyung never failed to amaze you with how colossal he was. The first time you saw it you wanted to run away, but he caught you and you got hooked. His darkened mushroom head was huge while the base was thick and his curved length was long and veiny. It was the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen and seemed that God blessed him very well.

Nothing happened between the two of you yet but the slit of his tip pearled fluids. You gawked agape with your mouth parted and tongue swiping your lips. His dick twitched, waiting for you to do something but you were too mesmerized.

Impatiently, using his unoccupied hand, he seized your jaw again, keeping your mouth open. “You’re fucking taking too long.” It didn’t take him long to bring your lips to his cock and push all of him in one motion.

You let out a muffled cry with watery eyes. If the tears fell before, they sure did now. Your throat muscles throbbed around him from the unexpected slamming. You gagged painfully, especially since his blunt head hit the back of your throat. Your mouth produced trickling drool all over him and down your chin. You were by no means prepared, but Taehyung didn’t seem bothered as he began his harsh pace.

You held onto his muscular thighs. You were crying so much but your sobs were smothered by the cruel thrusts of his rabid cock. Despite the sting, the actions sent a flood to your thin underwear. The familiar warmth covered your stomach, clenching your thighs together for some pressure on your poor leaking cunt.

“Fuck, Petal. Shit.” He cursed lowly. His cavernous moans echoed through the air. “Look at me.” His order sounded like a threat. He stopped his movements; his cock halfway in your mouth. When you opened your heavy lids, he looked so hot and bothered even in your blurry vision. “My pretty girl.” His thumb wiped off the trail of tears.

You were always pretty in his eyes, smiling, and laughing, even when you get angry at his annoying ass. But he especially thought you were pretty when he made you cry like this.

Then he went back to bobbing your head brutally on him. Your nails scratched his thighs, leaving indents on them. You retched again, spit drenching all over him. “Fucking amazing for a slut like you. Is this what you wanted, since you’re a fucking bad girl?”

You wanted to say no, but you couldn’t so you shook your head and whimpered. You weren’t a bad girl. You were good!

You were getting lightheaded, feeling so stuffed to even breathe. Taehyung observed your face getting a little pale. You always forgot to learn how to breathe when giving him a blow job.

He pressed into you once more and a bit longer than usual, so he can imprint the feeling of your mouth again into his spank bank. He ultimately pulled out, leaving a long string of drool from his tip to your crimson lips. His dick covered in your sweet saliva.

You heaved profoundly and wept here and there. You wanted to tell him off, but you were too scared to say anything. You pushed the tears away with the back of your hand and gulped your words but it pained you to do that.

“God, you’re messy,” He laughed cynically at you. “Aww, you’re upset, babydoll?” He asked condescendingly.

“N-no,” You sniffed, trying your best to be strong. “I’m not.”

“Good, you better not.” He said, letting go of your hair. “Stand up.”

This time you were swift on your feet. Though with painful reddened knees, you stood up wobbly and held Taehyung’s biceps for some support. He hooked an arm around your waist, pulling you to be chest to chest with him.

Being like this, you saw how he towered over you. The height difference wasn’t compared to a gremlin and the Incredible Hulk but he was still way taller than you. He absorbed your appearance, finally taking in how you wore a cute brown bear pajama shirt and matching shorts. The fresh aroma of roses from your body wash and your natural scent swirling into his nostrils sent his pheromones into a frenzy. He wanted you so badly.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you while your parents are sleeping?” His hot breath splashed your face, fluttering you into submission. You unconsciously nodded excitingly but it caused him to tut at you. “I’m not gonna tell you again. Exact words, babydoll.”

“Yes!” You shouted too quickly that only after you caught yourself, covering your mouth with your palms. He smirked at your reaction—so needy for him. Just the way he loved it. Your hands slowly traveled to his shoulders as you batted your beautiful irises at him. You didn’t like swearing, but it came often when you were with him alone. “Uhh, p-please f-fuck me. I’m your good girl, Taetae.”

The perfect answer.

He bent down to peck the tip of your nose then went further down to lick the trunk of your neck. He picked a spot before suckling around to mark his territory. You mewled at the sensation, slithering your arms around his nape. He began moving towards your bed while you stepped back, following his lead until you fell back onto the sheets of your mattress. Your back rested while your legs hung at the edge of the bed.

Your unapologetic eyes wandered his frame.

He kicked his pants and boots off his ankles, leaving him in only his jacket. But even that, he took off. The faded and lighter scars sprawled his torso, showing evidence of fights and brawls through the years. The fresher wounds battered his rough skin and once you saw gauges wrapped around his right hip with blood patches seeping through, you sat up straight with pupils dilated.

“Taehyung, your—”

“I didn’t tell you to speak,” He growled, and stalked to the bed before pushing your shoulder roughly to lay back down. Your body bounced, trying to process what was happening but he tugged your shorts and panties down and off your skin.

He kneeled in front of you, callous palms spreading your thighs apart to reveal your leaking puffy pussy. He didn’t even touch you and you were this soaked. He inhaled deeply, taking in your sweet essence.

Jesus Christ, you were always embarrassed when he did that. It was like his human nature devolved into animalistic instincts. His mouth had a mind of its own, nibbling your inner thighs and placing even more marks on you like he wanted to claim you. You gasped quietly, jerking a little. So sensitive as always. His thumbs stretched your nether lips apart, revealing more of you to him. The petals of your sex opened for him. Your little hole throbbing around nothing but secreted so much wetness, even spotted your tiny clit inflamed, begging to be touched.

But to your luck, Taehyung wasn’t the type to get on with it right away…well he can, but most of the time, he chose not to. No, sir, he took his time with you, to the point you had to drop your pride and beg. His fingers lightly caressed your sex, enough for you to feel it but do no pleasure.

“Tae,” You whined, hands reaching for him but he swatted them away.

“Don’t touch me, put them on your sides.” He seethed through his teeth.

“But—”

Smack! The slap stung your cunt, making you welp loudly. He does another and your head turned to the side. You cried, pressing your face into your blankets. Taehyung continued hitting your pussy until it was red and sensitive.

“Naughty girl!” He slapped your lips once more, jolting your feeble body. “What’s wrong with you tonight? You think just because you’re with your family that you forgot all the rules we had, hm??”

“N-n-no.” You sobbed, shaking your head cowardly. “I promise I reme—”

A knock came on your bedroom door.

Both of your heads shot toward the direction with wide eyes. Another knock happened again before the person on the other end said, “___?” Another knock. “Sweet pea, I heard noises. Are you good?” Then the fucking knob jiggled, but fortunately, you locked it. “Why’d you lock the door? What are you doing?”

Shoot, it was your dad. Your pastor dad. Now your heart was heavy and dropped down to your uneasy stomach. You needed to say something quickly, but no words came out. You shifted to see Taehyung who shrugged and smirked devilishly, leaving you to fend for yourself.

It was only until your dad said, “Do I need to use the spare keys to open the door?” That you spoke up.

“No! I’m good, I just…I accidentally dropped my phone on my face.” You lied, praying he’d buy it.

“You and your dang phone.” He complained through the door. Taehyung’s mouth went wide with silent laughter hearing you get scolded. You pursed your lips, shaking your head. He was no help at all because there was a gleam of mischief and it wasn’t a good sign at all. “You need to get off of that thing, sweet pea. You won’t have enough sleep. Remember you’re joining the praise team in the morning.”

“Yes, dad! I know. I’m sorry to—unghhh.” Your sentence was interrupted by the sudden breach from Taehyung’s two long fingers sliding in so smoothly into your cunt.

“___? ___, are you okay?” Your dad questioned as he continuously knocked on your door.

It didn’t take long for Taehyung to find your g-spot, curling his fingers to muscle memory. His digits pumped into you, and at times, he thumbed your clit. He had your eyes rolling back and biting your lips to stop your struggling whimpers. “I-I’m f-fine right now. D-d-ahh worry!”

“Are you sure you’re fine? You sound like you’re in pain.”

Taehyung dived into your pussy, taking a long lick before wrapping his lips around your sensitive nub. The tips of his fingers did their magic hitting your insides, playing with the squish of immense ecstasy.

You shrieked involuntarily, fisting the blankets under you as you threw your head back. “Yes, I’m fine!” You groaned distressingly. “I-I’m so…touched by my prayer before sleeping.” You swore faintly when Taehyung suckled and flattened his tongue on your clit.

“Prayer to the Lord is always so emotional, sweet pea.” Your father pointed out, but you really didn’t give a shit. “Alright, don’t want to disturb your time. Hope you get some sleep soon though. Good night.”

His footsteps faded away and you mentally cheered that you didn’t get caught, but you had sudden guilt that you basically spoke to your father with a guy eating you out.

Taehyung released his mouth off you to see how you appeared, crumbling at his touch. Your face wrinkled together with your mouth parted, and you saying his name with your pretty voice had his aching cock twitching. He reached over to the hem of your shirt and pulled it up, revealing your soft bare breasts and hardened nipples. “Such a pretty girl. Touched by the prayer? No, no, I’m the one you should be praying to.”

“D-don’t say that.” You moaned he knew you were very much in tune with your spirituality but he also liked to mess around with you.

“Why, Petal? You don’t like what I say, hmm?” He pouted mockingly, pushing his fingers deeper into you. You gasped, digging your head into the mattress. “I’ll give you everything that you want.” These blankets did no justice, you needed to hold onto him. You put your hand out, silently asking to hold him. Taehyung was mean but he wasn’t that mean…at least not today, so he accepted your request and intertwined his vacant hand with yours.

He felt your cunt getting tighter, understanding what was about to happen. Well, remember how Taehyung wasn’t that mean? That statement was taken back because he said, “Don’t come until I say so.”

You whined, giving your best doe-eyes and pinkest pout. “Please, Taetae. Wanna cum.”

Without removing any touch of you, he stood from his feet before covering your entire body with his large one. His face leaned down until your noses touched. “No.” He simply replied, yet his pace wasn’t slowing down. “Hold it.”

Your eyes twitched, wrestling to keep your orgasm under control. He always loved to play with you like this. You attempted to stabilize your breathing, deep and slow breaths. In…and out. In…and out. Yeah, this wasn’t working when Taehyung’s four-inch fingers were jamming into you. The pressure in your stomach tightened, clenching your abdominals to get your reach. It wasn’t a good girl thing to do, but he was mean!

“Can’t! Please!” You begged once more, knowing it couldn’t be stopped.

“No, be a good girl.”

Sorry, Taehyung but it was too late. Your eyes were already going to the back of your head, and you were prepared for the high of it all. But once you started arching your back, he pulled his fingers and hand away from you. You still had your orgasm but it felt so weak going through it without him helping you come down. Your pussy burned unpleasantly.

He glared at you, watching your lousy orgasm go to waste. All because you didn’t listen to him. But whose fault was that? Taehyung will never take the blame.

Pathetically unsatisfied, you came down and exhaled. It physically and emotionally pained you how shitty that orgasm was. And with a pissed-off Taehyung looming over you, it’ll be torture.

“Bad, bad girl.” Taehyung was disappointed at you, something you grimaced over. “I told you not to but you didn’t it anyway.”

“I couldn’t stop it…” You whispered.

“Couldn’t stop yourself? You really are a fucking slutty bad girl.” Getting slightly self-conscious from his jeering eyes, you closed your legs and covered your chest. Your face flushed with post-orgasm and shame.

Taehyung saw your actions, softening his tough demeanor. He lifted you to the middle of the bed before climbing over your concealed body. At this angle, the moonlight struck his body. Every muscle and indent defined, every wound and bruise visible, every part of him shined so beautifully and perfectly.

His knees spread your legs open to go in between while carefully pulling your arms off your chest. His face goes down to yours, planting little kisses all over your face in hopes he doesn’t make you feel too bad. “Tell me if I go too far, Petal. Don’t hide from me.”

You shook your head, “You’re not. I’m sorry I didn’t listen. I’ll be good, I promise.”

You were soooo good to him. He smiled tenderly, pecking another on the tip of your nose before the demon smirk came back. “Then you’re still gonna get it. Get on your knees.”

You nodded and were about to twist your body when Taehyung grasped your waist and flipped you over. He pushed down your back, arching your ass up before landing a loud slap to it. You cried into the pillow, hugging it as if it was like your protection. He slapped the other cheek, receiving another reaction from you.

“Since you’re weak at controlling yourself,” He grabbed his thick length. His head played with you, gliding across the slit and collecting your saturation until he aligned it with your hole. He puts a little bit of pressure, enough to make you moan for more but then stopped. “Maybe I should punish you by giving more than what you can handle.”

That was…even worse. But you had to accept it, so you could be the good girl for him.

Knowing he could maim you, he steadily filled you up. You felt every inch of him getting deeper and deeper inside, the stretch of your pussy left a dull ache. He held your hips as he guided himself in. Once he bottomed out, the both of you let out a sigh of relief. Every time you do this, it always felt like the first time because of how big he was.

“So fucking tight, Petal.” He hissed. The sensation of you pulsating had his head thrown back.

After a while, the two of you knew it was time for him to move. Taehyung pulled himself back, leaving his head and then piercing back in. You jolted forward, but he kept you firmly to continue his aggressive yet even pace. Each penetration to your spot left you wailing into the pillow, gripping its covers. The slapping of your skin resonated in your childhood bedroom, the only sound that could be heard other than Taehyung’s heavy breathing and your keens.

“This is what you wanted, right?” Taehyung asked lowly before speeding up his movements, making you louder in the cushion. When he didn’t get the answer that he wanted, he looped your hair around his hand and hauled your upper body until your back pressed to his sweaty chest. You winced in pain but you hooked an arm around his neck.

“I want—unggh, y-yes.” Tears fell on your cheeks. Your neck extended to the side, giving him full access to licking and sucking your skin. “A-am I being a—your good g-girl?”

“You’re such a fucking good girl, Petal. Fucking good girl.” He praised you, muffling into your neck. His other hand kneaded your boob, massaging your nipple between his appendages. You groaned at the added touch. The twist in your stomach rose, sensing another high coming soon. Taehyung noticed you tightening around his ramming shaft, so he slid his hand down to your clit and made circular motions. “Cream around my cock again. Come on, pray to me. Bless my name with your sweet sounds.”

“Taehyung, please, please, ahh.” You breathed heavily, bringing your head back to rest on his shoulder. His length ravaged your insides and his fingers pinched your sensitivity until the knot released. You splashed with blistering ecstasy, almost about to scream at the top of your lungs but his palm covered your pitched sounds. You stifled chants of his name with your rolling eyes, even lapping your tongue over his callous. His thrusts slowed down this time, easing you down. He showered you with compliments, kissing your jaw and cheek.

Once you came back, he took himself out of you to lay you down. He needed to see your face clearly at least once. He grabbed himself and plunged in again. You keened in volume, but Taehyung shushed you. “Babydoll, be quiet. Don’t want your dad to exorcise the both of us.”

You nodded pliantly and slapped hands over your lips. He moved at his previous pace, yet your sensitivity increased after your two orgasms. You were overstimulated but pushed through to help him meet his climax. He handled your hips where it would leave bruises days after. He hunched over to your chest, latching onto your nipple and swirling it with his tongue.

His touch was a mixture of all—needy, urgent, warm, cool, rough, and supple. You loved it all, you wanted more of him. You quivered into your palms, muting the uncontrollable noises escaping you.

He popped off your nub. His thrusts jerked faster and sloppier, recognizing how close he was. His resonant whimpers rung through your ears. It was like his thumb was magnetic to your clit because it was on you again and flicking rapidly. You shuttered, shaking your head at the intensity. It was too much. “One more for me, Petal. I wanna feel you, please.”

Darn, he said please. There was no way to deny him. After four more pumps, he buried himself still. He painted your insides white with his cum, whining your name. Meanwhile, you tirelessly came again. Blinding white spots came into your vision, ringing happened in your eardrums. The feeling of scorching euphoria spread all over your body as you curved your spine. Your hands were replaced with Taehyung’s mouth, sluggishly kissing you and keeping you as quiet as possible but let’s be real.

He kissed your lips once more before scooting in between your neck and shoulder to leave more smooches on your perspiring skin. His cum inside electrified you, feeling it flood around. It wasn’t until his softening dick pulled out of you, that the dam of cum seeped out your weeping pussy.

What an immaculate sight that he couldn’t resist.

Your energy-drained body thought it was over. But Taehyung had other plans because once you felt his tongue on your enlarged overloaded clit, you gasped in shock. “Taehyung, can’t anymore!” Your fingers attempted to push him off of you but you were too helpless and fatigued to overpower his strength.

He tasted the concoction of both of your cum, playing with the juice all over you and his mouth. He was addicted to the taste, vibrating another low moan to your clit.

You begged for him to stop, but he wasn’t going to finish until you came one more time. He lets go hastily and said, “Last one. Come on, Petal.”

Then there was your last orgasm. It was weaker than the previous, better than the first, but the most agonizing one. It burned but was so divine. You shoved your face into your cushion, crying away from every sensation and emotion you felt.

Taehyung was finally off of you and went up your body to kiss you again. But you were so lethargic, you couldn’t keep up and lay there like a Twinkie. You didn’t even comprehend how he walked out of your bedroom to look for the bathroom, knowing damn well your parents could see him.

But he made it back alive and unseen with a damp cloth to clean you up. He wiped you clean as you stared at him with so much endearment and swell to your heart even after pounding you like an animal.

After he was done cleaning, he threw the dirtied rag to the ground before climbing back in bed and putting the covers over your naked bodies. “You did so good, ___. My good girl, my favorite girl.” He pressed a kiss on your temple before you fell into slumber.

“___, wake up! We’re gonna be late!” Harsh knocks through your door disrupted your dreams. You groaned loudly, wanting to go back to sleep. “Sweet pea, get dressed!” It was your mom calling for you. You rubbed your eyes sluggishly in your raggedy state and rolled over. With squinting lids, you searched for your phone to check the time.

You overslept, and you panicked a bit. You kept your cool, it was fine. This was a small bump, but you’ll get over it.

Suddenly, something or someone shifted beside you. You turned your head before you were fully awake by your heart dropping down and coming out of your ass. A peaceful hibernating and naked Taehyung was by your side, cuddling your body. No wonder you woke up with furnace-like heat against you.

Immediately, you shot out of your bed to stand up but you completely forgot that after a night with Taehyung, you become temporarily paralyzed from the waist down. So you stood up and your feeble numb legs made you drop to the floor.

“___, are you awake? I heard a noise.” Your mom questioned again.

“Yeah,” you grimaced at how raspy your voice was. “I-I just woke up, I’m sorry.” You crawled towards the other side of the bed where Taehyung was.

“You have 30 minutes! I told you not to stay up late at night! You know…”

You tuned out her lecture because you were trying to wake Taehyung up in fear that you might get caught. “Taetae, wake up.” You were usually so gentle because it took him a while to fully get up but you slapped the shit out of him.

His eyes stammered open in surprise. He bolted awake and in pain. He was about to yell but you covered his mouth as you stared with alarming pupils. “It’s morning, my parents are awake. I need to get ready and you need to leave.”

“___! Are you listening to me? Do I need to open your door to get you ready?” Your mother complained, trying to open your door but it was still locked. “I’m getting the key—”

“No, mommy!” You protested. Both of your heads directed to the door with widened eyes. “I swear I’ll get ready. I promise I’ll be quick.”

“Okay…I’m almost done with breakfast.” She announced.

You breathed out in relief, knowing you were clear for now. But once you looked over to the naked man still in your bed, you had another morning task to do. “You need to leave. If I don’t come out in five minutes to go get my teeth brushed, my parents will come to get me out.”

Usually, Taehyung would play around, but he knew this time meant business. He nodded obediently. You rolled away to give him some space to get out and gather his scattered clothes. As he was getting dressed, you watched him.

The bruises, the cuts, and that deep wound were all still there. It made you upset, frowning at the mere thoughts of what Taehyung dealt with before coming to see you. You never liked what business or situation he was in, you didn’t know fully but again, just by looking at it, it was not good.

Taehyung detected your staring, but he was surprised at your sad state. “What’s wrong, Petal?”

“I know I said I don’t wanna know what you do, but it won’t change the fact that I don’t like seeing you get hurt.” You explained. “I’m seeing all of this and I’m worried sick, Taetae.”

He sighed, putting his jacket back on then walking over to pick you up on your feet. You used him as leverage. You acted like a baby dear standing on its legs for the first time, making him chuckle at your struggling state but it was too adorable. “I’m sorry for worrying you. You probably wanted to know what happened and I’ll tell you more about it later, but let’s just say I’m trying to get out of the things.”

Your eyes sparkled with joy, “You are? You’re not just saying that, are you?”

He smiled and shook his head, “I’m not just saying that. I’m serious. I’ve been…in it for a long time but I’ve been also wanting to stop.” You nodded understandingly. “Wanna do this for myself, but for you. I don’t want any of them or other affiliations to find you and use you against our will. It’s not easy, hence why I arrived like this, but it’ll come to an end.”

“Okay,” You grinned sweetly before puckering your lips and waiting for him to come.

He leaned down and accepted you, He circled his arms around your body as he kissed you tenderly. He parted away, foreheads touching. “I’m gonna miss you, Petal.”

“As I said, it’ll only be this weekend. I’ll be back tomorrow night.” You reassured but it wasn’t enough to prevent the pout on his lips. “Come on.”

The two of you walked over to the window. He opened the pane as he prepared his descent. His legs were out hanging, his arms and torso still inside your room. You went over to give him one last kiss for his travels back.

“I’ll miss you too, Taehyung.” You giggled, captivating his entire heart.

Feeling overwhelmed with the thoughts and emotions of you, he blurted out, “I love you so much, ___.” It was the first time either of you said it, and he just realized what he said when his eyes grew the size of saucers and stared at him like he was insane. You were a fish, opening and closing your mouth with no words coming out. You didn’t know how to react, but you definitely felt your heart palpitating briskly.

Before you could finally say anything, he abruptly goes, “Okay, well, yeah bye. See you in psychology class.” He descended as fast as he could, trying to get away as possible. You didn’t even watch him out the window, which was a good thing for him as reached the ground. While walking away, he was mentally screaming at himself and fisting the air at what he did.

You were finally dressed and appropriate for church. You fixed the clip in your hair before walking out of your room and down the stairs. Yet your thoughts were elsewhere and about the boy who was in your room not too long ago.

He said I love you. The fucking bad boy of the town confessed his love for you. What the fuck? First of all, you weren’t even together. You didn’t know what you were, whatever. The only thing you knew was that Taehyung would beat the shit out of any guy that came your way. Second, it was an odd choice to say a confession after a sneaky night at your lover’s childhood house with their parents sleeping at the end of the hallway.

Thirdly, you knew what your feelings were but the little shit didn’t give you a chance to comprehend and tell your side. Ugh, now you have to deal with him opening up once you were back in town.

You reached the kitchen, greeting your parents. Your mom told you to take a seat as she prepared a plate for you. She glanced at you, then took another look intently yet you didn’t seem to notice.

Once seated, your father scrolled his phone for news and reread his notes for his sermon. He gazed up at you, then did a double take before raising an eyebrow yet you didn’t see his stare as your mom walked towards the table with your breakfast.

You were too busy looking down at the settled breakfast before to spot the questionable looks your parents made. Once you were about to devour your eggs and kimchi, your dad stopped you. “What were you doing last night?”

You blinked, “I was on my phone late at night, and did my emotional prayer, remember?” Your father hummed, nodding eerily calmly.

Then your mother spoke up as blunt and knowledgeable as she was. “Then why do you have hickeys all over your neck?”

A/N: There will NOT be a part two :D

#matcha masterlist #taehyung x reader #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfiction #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #kim taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #bts x reader

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heart-of-the-morningstar · 7 months

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I’m gonna write this down now so I can look like an absolute genius later (or look like a clown, but at least I said it with my full chest!)

❌ Spoilers for the FNAF Movie below! ❌

Ok, I might be huffing hopium here, but in my heart of hearts I STILL think Mike Schmidt is Mike Afton. If (or when) they make a sequel, there’s a way they can reveal this

So the most obvious thing from this movie is when Mike is in “Steve’s” office, and when “Steve” is reading Mike’s name out loud from his résumé, he stops mid-sentence. He looks at Mike for a weird amount of time, almost studying him, before completely changing the subject. There’s no way in hell “Steve” recognizes Mike from when he saw him as a kid when he kidnapped his brother Garrett 10+ ago, no chance. Also why would he go to Nebraska (unclear where the movie takes place, but let’s assume Utah because of the books) to kidnap a random kid and just drive off? Here’s what I think is going on…(also I’m gonna call him William from now on cuz we all know lol)

William fingered out that Mike is his son during that interview. My theory is that at some point, William was married and him and his wife have a son named Mike. And for one reason or another, they got divorced. This is when Mike was too young to really remember which is why he doesn’t recognize William during their meeting. Mike’s mom gains custody of Mike and remarries, she marries Mr. Schmidt. They have a child together, Garrett. Sometime after the divorce, William adopts a child, trying to cope after losing his only son. He adopts Vanessa.

William finds out about his ex-wife having another kid. He wants to cause her pain and suffering for leaving him. He follows the Schmidt’s and takes Garrett during the camping trip. Unable to handle the pain, Mike’s mom takes her own life, leaving Mike and his stepdad. Mr. Schmidt marries a little later to another woman, and she has a daughter named Abby. Sometime after this, both Mr. Schmidt and his new wife die, leaving Mike to care for Abby.

Vanessa owed William so much, he had adopted her while she had suffered in an orphanage for years. She would do anything he told her, even if it meant covering up his crimes. Years later, realizing what she was doing was wrong, she left her father and became a police officer, hoping to stop people like her father as she had failed to stop him.

Here’s another thing. Scott Cawthon knows that the fans are obsessed with the lore of FNAF. I think he knew he could make more movies, this isn’t going to be a one and done deal. Plus, he had his hand on this project every step of the way, he wouldn’t agree to anything that he didn’t want to happen in the story. Mike being William’s some is CRUCIAL to the story of FNAF (at least in the games). I think he’s trying to fake us out, you know how he loves to troll the fans!

Again, this is just a theory (A GAME THEORY lol), but I don’t think the idea of Mike being an Afton is dead just yet. Hoping and praying so I can look incredibly smart if or when the sequel drops 🙏🏻

#fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf spoilers #fnaf movie spoilers #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy’s movie #five nights at freddy’s spoilers #five nights at freddy’s movie spoilers #william afton #steve raglan #mike schmidt #mike afton #michael afton #vanessa afton #scott cawthon #theory #garrett schmidt #abby schmidt #please god let me be right i’m begging

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showtoonzfan · 5 months

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Bro we finally got to see Lilith’s card and we don’t even get to see her face come ONNN.

Viv you already spoiled so much regarding the show, might as well show off Lilith, like…why is she keeping her in the shadows so much? Also I would say it’s too early but I think this card is borderline proof that she’s a villain, they’re making it so obvious lol like there is no reason why we’re going THIS long without seeing or knowing anything about her while Lucifer gets all the attention and is going to be painted in a more sympathetic light.

It legit pisses me off cause in the pilot they indicate Charlie actually had a close relationship with her mom considering she was the one who got called by her daughter for advice, but from what we’ve seen Charlie’s going to be interacting with her dad in the show a lot while Lilith will probably get no more than a brief mention or a cameo. Viv is keeping her in the shadows for a reason, she’s 100% a villain and ngl I’m starting to believe the “Lilith separated with Lucifer because he wasn’t evil anymore”- allegation.

And again, I wouldn’t have a problem with Lilith being a villain had we not known that Viv is aiming for Lucifer to be “not that bad he’s just uwu goofy” and sympathetic. It’s once again biased/favoritism writing and I really don’t want another Stolas and Stella situation. Obviously this is mostly speculation and guesses, I’ll wait and see till the show comes out but I am 100% expecting more misogynistic and biased writing.

#vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #hazbin hotel critical #anti vivziepop #Hazbin critical #also Lilith looks so off model she looks like Alastor and you can tell the artist didn’t know what to do without showing her face

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cherienymphe · 2 years

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Need To Know (Chris Evans x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON, slight jealous!Chris

➥ This would’ve been out sooner but I got sucked down the rabbit hole that is Ned ‘I love my wife’ Fulmer from Try Guys cheating on his wife with Alex from Food Babies, but here we are! Enjoy!

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts | divider by @silkholland

summary: Chris heard from a friend of a friend that that pussy was a 10 out of 10

...or the one where you’re shy and Chris gets curious.

You perked up at the sound of your name being called, eyebrows raised, and eyes widened in wonder as you turned around. Your hand was still on Dodger’s head, stroking it with a gentle touch that the canine really seemed to like. Your eyes met Scott’s as his head poked from above the couch where he lounged. Tessa was next to him, expression eager. In fact, you noticed that they all seemed to look at you fervently.

You were a part of the festivities, but not really. You were Scott’s friend first, had been his friend for years, so he and Chris were used to your need to just be off by yourself sometimes. When you’d met Tessa through Chris, and became the best of friends, she’d grown used to it too. They never commented on it, so naturally neither did anyone else, but you could tell that the other Chris, the one who played the mighty Thor himself, often wanted to rope you into their madness.

Said madness tonight included drinks and engrossing trips down memory lane from what you’d gathered. You had left the conversation in preference of Dodger’s company when Chris had gone on a drunken tangent about how much he loved making love to his wife. It was cute, but also a little too much information than you wanted to know.

“She’s not going to tell you,” Tessa threw at Scott, head leaning on her hand.

“Tell you what?” you wondered, standing.

You noticed a few smiles grow as Scott fully sat up.

“Craziest place you’ve ever had sex, go.”

You laughed to yourself, shaking your head.

“Tessa’s right, I’m not going to tell you,” you sheepishly replied with a shrug.

A chorus of disappointment rang out as you rounded towards the table, pouring yourself a drink.

"I told you,” you heard her sing. “Y/N doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“Who are we going to tell?” Chris wondered, exchanging a glance with his name twin before they both chuckled.

“Chris,” you started, taking a shot. “You tell your wife everything, and it’s cute, but…no.”

“At least we know there’s an answer,” he loudly whispered to Scott, and you rolled your eyes.

You caught the older Chris’ gaze, fixing him with a mock apologetic look and a shrug. While you knew that he and Scott were content to respect your privacy and reserved personality, you also knew that Chris didn’t necessarily like it. For years he’d known you, and the knowledge that he still couldn’t quite figure you out ate away at him.

He’d told you so.

“You’re just so quiet,” he’d told you one day. “It hit me that I’ve known you for years through Scott, and I feel like I don’t really know you.”

You had placated him with a story about the time you’d broken your arm. You could tell that wasn’t what he’d meant, but you had slipped away before he could say anything else. It wasn’t long after that that you noticed Chris liked to watch you…a lot.

It wasn’t in a rude way or even an overtly obvious way that anyone else would catch on to. In fact, the only reason you feel like you did was because you’re just an observing person by nature. You watched him watch you when he thought no one else was looking.

When you’d be talking to Scott, when you’d be over their mom’s house and would help her cook, or even when you’d harmlessly flirt with Anthony whenever he was around. You could feel Chris’ heated gaze on you, and you would ignore it, pretending like you hadn’t noticed, but in truth…

You kind of liked it.

It felt almost like a game, only Chris was the only one playing.

You were just naturally quiet, naturally reserved by nature. If you didn’t have anything to say then you wouldn’t say anything, and you didn’t feel the need to share everything about yourself. Sometimes something would come out, something new and unknown that Chris never would’ve guessed about you, and you could see it. The way his eyes would light up, a certain glint in their blue depths as he latched onto the information like his life depended on it. The time you and Scott had gone skinny dipping, your spontaneous trip with some man to Venice, when you owned a motorcycle for a year.

It wasn’t intentional, but you supposed that you were teasing him, and with every crumb thrown his way…the more he wanted to know.

“Y/N likes to play coy.”

Your eyes met Chris’ again as he said that, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say the small smile on his face was less fond and more…bitter. You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head before making your way to the kitchen. You could feel his gaze on you the whole way there, and from your place at the fridge in search of a nonalcoholic drink, you heard him throw a snarky comment to his brother.

“You sure she’s not a virgin? Because I get that from her…”

Your swallowed down your laugh, reaching for a bottle of Sprite, thinking to yourself that now he was just trying to be mean. You could see Scott swat at him when you returned, and as you sat down beside Tessa, you carefully avoided Chris’ gaze.

The conversations flew around you with your occasional input, and if anyone else noticed Chris uncharacteristic silence, they didn’t comment on it. You took another sip of your sprite, glancing up as you did, unsurprised to find his eyes on you again.

Why Chris was so curious to know everything about you, you’d never know, but considering how long this had been going on, you should’ve guessed he’d never just let it go. You didn’t know if he felt like he couldn’t trust you or if it was some weird ego thing or genuine interest, but his almost bratty attitude concerning your lack of desire to share every minute detail about yourself was amusing to watch at best. Annoying at worst.

You supposed that at some point, something had to give. You never would’ve guessed it’d be sooner rather than later. A get together at Chris’ place that obviously included his brother, you tagging along as Scott’s close friend, and none other than Sebastian and Anthony showing up in attendance too. However, the last person you expected to see walking in with those two was your ex.

You were glad that it ended on a good note, making it easy for you to jokingly push him out of the door. Or at least attempt to. He’d laughed at you, asking how you were, and that was when Anthony and Seb seemed to catch on.

“You two?” Anthony asked, pointing between you in shock. “You and him?”

“…and just what are you trying to say?” you wondered, one hand on your hip and the other holding your cup.

“He’s just so…ugly,” Anthony sighed, and you waved him off. “I thought you had better taste than that.”

He placed his hands on his chest, looking hurt. You pulled Anthony into the kitchen, leaving Seb with his friend, your ex, just as Chris passed you both. Anthony lightly tapped Chris’ chest, disbelief still coloring his features.

“Get this,” he started, gesturing between you and the man by the door. “Those two used to date.”

“Oh my God, it’s not that big of a deal,” you laughed, taking a sip.

The other man before you looked between you two before resting his gaze on you, eyebrows raised.

“Really…”

You didn’t like the look on Chris’ face. There wasn’t as much shock as there was curiosity, and if the man wanted to pump your ex for anything he could learn about you then he was welcome to it.

“Yes, really. The actual shocking thing here is that Sebastian never brought him around until now. Small world,” you hummed, pushing Anthony into the kitchen to get him a drink.

Truthfully, you didn’t understand why Scott even dragged you along. In a house full of guys, you weren’t shocked when the evening was reduced to them watching some game on the TV. You didn’t care to pretend to be interested, and while you certainly enjoyed your solitude, you definitely thought this was something you could’ve missed out on.

Then again, you never would’ve run into your ex and found out that he and Sebastian were friends. Although, from the looks of it, he was becoming fast friends with Chris. They stood by the couch, talking about what you assumed was the game. Chris either had good timing, or he sensed the weight of your gaze because his eyes met yours when he glanced up.

You had the strangest thought that his blue shirt made his equally blue eyes pop, the buttons of the Henley undone to show a teasing peek of his tattoo. It was hard not to notice how attractive he was, but you’d never given it too much thought. He nodded at something your ex said, seemingly listening, and you watched the way he ran his hand over his beard, finger trailing over his lip, and that was when you looked away.

When the game was over, Sebastian forced you to sit beside him, asking you the usual ‘how’s life’ questions. It had been a minute since you’d seen him, and you took the opportunity to ask how he even knew your ex. By the way he laughed, you guessed it was a funny story, and with him on the brain, you glanced around to find him and Chris gone.

Scott noticed your frown.

“I think Chris went to show him where the bathroom was,” he answered your silent question.

It was a few drinks later when Chris appeared once more, and you were trying to keep from choking as Anthony and Seb argued about something that happened on set. You felt Chris standing behind you, one hand on the back of the couch with his fingers coming dangerously close to touching your back.

You were a little too aware of his presence, his body heat seeming to surround you. If you took a deep breath, you were positive you’d be able to smell what he’d showered with or what cologne he'd put on. When his fingers did eventually graze your skin, you found that you couldn’t focus on much else, not even aware when your ex returned.

Chris seemed content to hover around you. In fact, he lingered near you the entire night. If he wasn’t standing behind you, then he was getting you another drink when yours was empty. When he got tired of that, he actually made himself comfortable beside you on the couch, leg brushing against yours and arm grazing yours.

You mostly remained quiet for the rest of the night, adding to the conversation here and there when Scott wanted your agreement on something. Alas, the night had to come to an end, and by then, Scott was so drunk he couldn’t walk straight. Let alone drive. You weren’t nearly as drunk as he was, but you didn’t feel comfortable driving anywhere, and truthfully, you didn’t have to.

It wouldn’t be the first time you had to stay in Chris’ guest room.

You waved Anthony and Seb goodbye, sending your ex off with a lingering hug. When you pulled away, his own eyes hooded from alcohol, he looked like he wanted to say something. However, he seemed to think better of it, wishing you a good night and telling you how nice it was to see you.

When you turned back around, the living room was empty. You guessed that Chris had helped his brother into bed, and you took it upon yourself to start cleaning up the mess left behind. You had gathered all of the trash into a bag when you heard Chris’ footsteps, rounding the corner just as you placed the bag in the kitchen.

“He’s going to regret every choice he ever made tonight when he wakes up in the morning,” you chuckled, glancing at the older brother.

Chris didn’t respond right away, leaning against the wall as he stood in the entryway. He seemed content to just watch you clean up, but after a while, he took 2 of the glasses you’d cleaned and poured 2 drinks. Not wanting to be rude, and a little curious about one of the few times he seemed to be acting like he was your friend, you took the one he offered.

“I’m not going to lie,” he started, taking a sip. “When Anthony said that was your ex, I didn’t quite believe him.”

You finished your drink, looking at him with a frown.

“Why not?” you wondered with an awkward chuckle.

The blue-eyed man offered you more, and you held out your glass.

“…he doesn’t seem like your type,” he murmured with a smile.

You rolled your eyes, fixing him with a look.

“You don’t know my type, Chris.”

He nodded at that, accepting the truth in it.

“I don’t know a lot of things about you…”

You held his gaze from over the rim of your glass.

“…and you just hate that,” you said with a shake of your head. “It’s really nothing personal despite what you clearly think. I’m just not very talkative.”

You watched him fill up your glass again, and you playfully narrowed your eyes at him. He tilted his head at you, a small smirk on your pink lips.

“Are you trying to get me drunk? Loosen my lips…?”

Despite the fact that you were onto him, you still took another sip. Chris sat the bottle down, moving closer to where you leaned against the counter. You gazed at him from beneath your lashes, and you didn’t miss the way he ran his eyes over you.

“Maybe I am…”

You raised your eyebrows at that, and he continued.

“Your ex said that you broke up with him…”

You nodded, letting out a hum of confirmation, curious as to where he was going with this. He was much closer to you now, one hand on the counter as he leaned in. There was a look of wonder on his face, the corner of his lip twitching slightly.

“…he also mentioned how much he wanted you back because you were, and I quote, ‘the best sex he’s ever had in his life’.”

You couldn’t hold in your laugh at that, thinking about your ex’s hesitation at the door. You finished your drink, fondly shaking your head.

“I’m sorry he shared that with you-.”

“I’m not,” Chris interrupted. “…but it is a little hard for me to imagine you being the best sex of anyone’s life. You’re so…”

He trailed off, hands flailing around slightly, and you knew what he was trying to say. Shaking your head and laughing at him, you sat your empty glass down.

“Don’t think about it so hard,” you told, standing up straight.

Your chest brushed against his as he moved closer, blue eyes dancing between yours as his other hand joined his right one on the counter, trapping you. Your lips parted, and his gaze was drawn to that as he looked down, eyes lingering on your mouth. He spoke again when his eyes met yours.

“What if I want to think about it?”

Things seemed to click for you, and you let out a light scoff. You looked away from him, admitting to yourself that the thought was tempting, but Scott was your friend, and truthfully, you weren’t going to have sex with Chris to satisfy some sick curiosity he had for you.

With a wistful sigh, you laid your hand on his chest, gently pushing him away.

“I think you’re almost as drunk as your brother,” you replied, brushing past him. “Goodnight, Chris.”

You didn’t spare him another glance.

By the time you’d gotten out of the shower, the alcohol had really settled in your system. The world threatened to tilt with every step you took, and it made looking for the last spare shirt you’d left here that much harder. The towel was tight around you, the cool air of the A/C causing a shudder to travel down your spine.

So focused on finding something to sleep in, you didn’t notice the other presence in the room until a hand rested on your neck. You gasped in shock, heart skipping a beat before settling when a familiar voice gently shushed you. He pulled you back into him, lips grazing over your damp shoulder, and you laid a hand on your chest.

“Chris-.”

“You’re always so quiet,” he murmured into your skin, pressing kisses towards your neck now. “It drives me crazy to wonder what you’re thinking.”

His beard scratched against your skin, making you shiver.

“…but now I want to know what you sound like in bed even more.”

He nipped at your skin, making your lips part before he turned you around. Chris swallowed any protest on your tongue when he covered your mouth with his own, moving it against yours with a hunger that frankly scared you. A hunger you didn’t even know existed.

“I need to know what you sound like…feel like…”

The desperation in his tone was evident, and you wouldn’t lie and say that it didn’t settle warmly in the pit of your stomach. Your hands were pressed to his chest, but when he gripped the hair at the nape of your neck and pulled your head back a bit, your fingers became light. He didn’t waste any time before kissing down your throat, getting dangerously close to your chest.

Your mind was spinning so much that it was hard to decipher if you really wanted this. It seemed insane to think that you didn’t, but you knew that Chris was here now, desperate to get you under him to satiate this strange fascination he had with you. This desire to figure you out in some way, any way. He really couldn’t stand how little he knew about you, the wall that he’d been trying to get through for years, and for some strange reason, you hadn’t actually expected him to just…snap one day.

You weren’t prepared for it.

That was how you found yourself spread out on his guest bed for him, the tip of him poking against you and slipping past your lips. The evidence of your arousal made his own lips glisten, the taste of you still on them, no doubt when his tongue darted out to swipe along them.

Your nails pressed into the hands he had placed on your thighs, spreading you open for him while he slowly pushed his cock into you. Your lips parted into an ‘O’, a silent moan leaving your throat as he slid in inch by inch. When his hips were flush with yours, he took one of your hands and pinned it beside your head. Your chest was heaving slightly, and Chris groaned when you clenched down onto him.

He didn’t take his eyes off of your face as he pulled out. Only the tip of him remained, and he pushed back into you with a pace that was borderline agonizing. You reached out to touch his chest, head thrown back when he set a steady pace, hips curving into yours with one purpose.

He wanted to hear you.

You could see it all over his face. How determined he was to make you scream and squirm beneath him. His lashes fluttered, and you didn’t know if he was drunk from the alcohol or the feel of you warm and tight around him, sucking him back in with every thrust. When he hit a spot in you that had your breath hitching, you weren’t able to hold in your whimpers.

His blue eyes gleamed at that, and you panted as he took one of your legs and bent it. Your knee was pointed towards your chest, and a choked gasp escaped you as he moved closer. He let go of your hand to place it on the headboard above your head, completely caging you in beneath him while he fucked you.

His cock slid in and out of you with ease, almost embarrassingly so, but you saw no point in pretending to be ashamed of how wet you were. You could feel the mess you were making of his sheets and hear the squelch of his cock dipping into you. You moaned his name, a hand sliding over his back while the other reached up to grip his arm.

Every noise you made seemed to egg him on, fascinate him, eyes wide and lips parted when you found yourself on top of him. Your fingers were threaded through his as you rode him. Your head was thrown back, soft moans leaving your lips while you slid yourself down onto him again and again. Your walls clung to him with every movement, desperately seeking a release, fingers tightening in his.

When Chris let your hands go, he sat up, clasping his hands behind your neck to bring you into a kiss. He nipped at your lips, one hand sliding down to hold your waist and guide your hips over him as he moved back to lean against the headboard.

“Not so quiet now, huh,” he groaned into the kiss.

You didn’t have the words to respond, only whimpering. You sighed his name, one hand dragging your nails down his arm.

“My shy baby just needs to be filled,” he whispered against your skin as he trailed his lips over your jaw. “…you just need to be fucked good, isn’t that right?”

You wrapped your arms around him, grinding down onto his cock. He flipped you both, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room as his movements became almost animalistic. You held onto him, gasps and broken moans climbing out of your throat as his thrusts fueled that fire in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck, look at you…”

You could feel his gaze on your face, but you were too busy focusing on lifting your hips to meet his with every thrust. Chris brushed his thumb over your cheek, and your gaze fell down to where he disappeared into you. The sight pushed you closer to your climax, and you wrapped your legs around Chris, pulling him closer while running your fingers through his dark strands of hair.

“Come inside of me,” you moaned, tone pleading, and you could tell that it took him by surprise by the way his hips stuttered. “I want you to.”

You leaned your head up, kissing his chin and nipping at his throat. It pushed him over the edge, a low moan leaving him while he pushed his cock into you, emptying himself inside of you. The feel of him spilling into you and flooding your insides triggered your own climax, and you clenched around him, milking him and rolling your hips.

You could feel him spilling around you, and there was a warm tickle between your legs when he pulled out of you. You felt so sensitive, shuddering when Chris reached down to slide two fingers into you, curling them inside of you.

“If I was your ex, I’d want you back too…”

He leaned down to kiss the corner of your mouth, humming.

“…sucks for him that you’re mine now.”

tags: @xoxabs88xox @readermia @buckybarnesplumwhore @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @trinittyy @hyoyeoniie @mandiiblanche @doozywoozy @melli0112 @zombiexbody @holl2712 @mansaaay @lipstickstainedred @avengers-goddess @ameliaalvarez06 @kaelibaby @totallynotkaibiased @hanniebee33 @jemimah-b99 @gillybear17 @mannstarkey @lovserrr @aglassoforangejuiceee @emberenchanted @layazul @toystory2wasjustokay @my-baexht-ls @prettymuchboo @asonofpeter @spidey-d00d @cockslutpadalecki @dirtytissuebox @evemarieyl @ventinglation @stopnala @annellie @littleone2223 @itskeishaaaaa @blueicequeen19 @drewsgfduh @ashpeace888 @bibliophilewednesday @lonnie2390147 @1-800-di0r @amanduhh1998 @coldspoons @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @twwcs @breakfastonpluto19 @lovedetlost @pearlsofme @rottenstyx @officialfangirls-blog @untoldgrace

@maskmare931 @honeybear-yammy @harrysthiccthighss @hallecarey1

#chris evans x reader #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut

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vs120shound · 8 months

Text

Mother (right) and daughter sharing a cigarette together, consenting to a video in which they talk about their favorite drinks and smoking!

THE VIDEO OF THE WEEK 🚬 (SF HALL OF FAME) 🚬 NUMBER 3 IN THE SERIES!

For the Week of 091023-091623

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ + | Five-Plus "Stars"

From vs120shound staff | ★★★★★ (L)

REVISION/UPDATE: Mom here is called "Bobbi" by interviewer, Austin, the SM web-master/web producer. She is also known as Michelle Conners and Mechelle Montes. ID supplied by gtrtchr120. Correction: September 18, 2023 at 12:38 a.m. Bonus photos of Mom (Bobbi, Michelle, Mechelle) added at the bottom of the post.

By far one the greatest Mother-Daughter scenes in the Greater SF World Community's history. Easily. This is super cute daughter Christy (left) and her sparklingly pretty yet unidentified mother to her side. Mom's photo has been scrubbed from the SmokingModels (Florida, U.S.A.) models page. She was identified for years but we missed the boat on remembering, and that's a collective "My Bad!" without question. And let's not try to kid ourselves or any other SF aficionados for any reason, there have been plenty of sensational scenes with mothers sharing cigarettes with their daughters over the years. This IS our favorite among them! And we're not bashful about admitting the preeminent nature of this claim in our collective view! Not all will agree with this declaration, but some will say Christy and Mommy are deserving of being considered for that immense honor. Others will say, no, they're certainly not bad but there are so many others nearly as fine! We disagree with that position . . . and it is not No. 1 because of their knockout bodies, their sexiness and ample endowments each, although those obvious features only serve to enhance this video's appeal to SF aficionados!

. . . going the traditonal Bo Derek "1 to 10" rating, will say (no range here; just firm numbers for each) Christy is an 8.0 and gorgeous, elegant, sophisticated and mature Mom is a 9.0. We just don't know how they got to this point. Did mom sense that Christy was interested in her smoking and mom questioned her and agreed to help her into transitioning into becoming a smoker? Or did Christy simply say, "Hey, Mom, I'm interested in your smoking habit and I'd like to try it out." And from that point, Mom jumped in and said, "Great, Christy! I was wondering when you'd show interest in cigarettes, I was your age when Grandma showed me the ropes. Let me show you! Would you like to experiment with smoking? Or are you sure right now that you want to become a smoker as soon as possible? I can show you the right way to smoke like a lady." Mom should know; probably picked up the habit as a teenager some 20 years or so earlier.

Most likely it was one of those scenarios with slight modifications. Could have been, however, a case of Christy stealthily sneaking around and pilfering one or a few cigarettes at a time and trying it out, hoping those experimental cigarettes wouldn't be missed or that she'd be discovered? Or, finally, for another possiblity perhaps . . . Christy and some friends, or just Christy and her BFF, forged a pact to try to learn how to smoke together or they had already decided that's what they needed to do, to graduate into becoming full-time, addicted sexy smokers?

We know that hot, young Christy -- possibly as young as 13 or 14 y.o. or maybe as late as 16 or 17 y.o. or even at 18 -- certainly noticed how sexy her mom was when she was smoking, saw all the extra attention her mother got with her hot, seductive style with cigarettes. Young teenage daughters pick up on clues as to how to become more noticeable and sophisticated and more mature in their looks and behaviors. Smoking cigarettes is a sure-fire, great way to attain that ladylike appeal by others. They talk not so much about smoking in this long clip but more on their favorite alcoholic beverages. Young would-be smokers, and newbies to the habit, definitely sense and see the relationship between cigarettes and booze. They experiment; they learn; then they are hooked soon enough: Heavy smoking while drinking . . . chain smoking while binge drinking, when getting super drunk!

Added post-release, on Sept. 18, 2023 at 3:37 p.m.:

Here, in our classic video, Christy and "Bobbi" talk about fashion and style and what works as ensembles for them. Austin, the interviewer and web-master/web-producer for SmokingModels, floats the idea of searching for outfits on the cheap by going online and visiting E-bay! How revolutionary. That portion of the the nearly 8:56 of non-stop conversation dates this video

This post falls within SF Hall of Fame classification because for years by many SF aficionados this video has been considered to be a classic. It is a legendary, iconic video of Mothers-Daughters enjoying their love, friendship, camaraderie, common interests and time together all enhanced and accentuated by their shared habit of smoking cigarettes. Get the feeling that they tried . . . for years after this video was made and published by SmokingModels.com web-master/web producer Austin . . . and continued to try to have cigarettes at the same time, smoking them together. Doubt we are very wrong here, though we could be a tad off.

Re-posted: September 17, 2023

From vs120shound on August 26, 2022 . . .

Bonus photos of mom (Bobbi/Michelle/Mechelle) . . .

"That's her, mom. Just add 10 years on to how she appears in the video, putting "Bobbi" closer to 50 y.o. than the late-30s/early-40s that she might've been in the neighborhood during the time of the post's production and release on SmokingModels," -- vs120shound web-master/web producer

#SF #Hot women who love smoking cigarettes #Smoking cigarettes #Smoking #The Video of The Week (Honorable Mention)!#The Video of The Week (HoF) . . . Hall of Fame!#SmokingModels (Florida -- U.S.A.)!#Smoking interviews!#“Daughter” Christy!

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adventuringblind · 11 months

Text

Daddy Issues Part 2

Max Verstappen X Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Requested: No, but I'm in a writing mood, so I'm taking requests for Max and Charles. *Silently begs for people to not be shy*

Summary: Jos may have been dealt with for now, but parental issues for the two lovers are far from it.

Warnings: DADDY ISSUES... again, mentions of verbal, emotional, and physical abuse, not proofread (I don't even proofread my college papers), Jos is a warning himself

Notes: This part is written in the second person perspective because it's more geared toward the readers' struggles. Jos does make a reappearance. At this point, it's completely self-indlugent. I'm writing from similar experiences, so please be gracious.

Also, I posted things about a novel I'm currently working on. If you have a chance, please give it a look! You can find it on my masterlist.

Masterlist // Part one // Part three

You were naïve to think that your troubles would be over after the interaction with Jos.

The air around you and Max had become significantly lighter. Max even opened up about things to his friends and was able to smile more during races.

You loved watching him. The light in his eyes even when coming in second or third.

You thought maybe the two of you would be able to heal and move forward. Max had been thriving the last six months. Both physically and mentally because of the steps he'd been taking to get there.

However, you had a different story. While Max had been able to cut off contact with Jos, you had your dad to deal with still.

Thankfully, your dad was good at putting on his best performance around people. It was the reason very few people had the privilege of understanding your relationship with your family.

You'd wanted to cut him off originally, but you couldn't because you still felt the underlying need to please him. Your mom is in a similar situation, and your sibling(s) who still had yet to be able to make that choice.

You hadn't told Max yet. Things had gotten worse for you recently. You didn't want to ruin his current state of joy.

A people pleaser by heart.

So you hid that part away and put on your best face as you basked in Max's smiles. The warmth of them helping you mask yourself.

Until it started to fall apart.

The first encounter was once again with Jos. You found him in hospitality during a race. Immediately getting defensive and ready to call security.

That was until you noticed him having a conversation with your father. The two seeming to have a lively discussion.

Then they noticed you. Hand beckoning you to come closer.

Cautiously, you approached the table. Choosing not to take a seat and standing at the end instead.

"Good to see you again! I hope you haven't missed me too much since we last spoke." Jos' voice sounded like sandpaper in your ears. The bruise on your cheek had long since healed, but being near him brought back the stinging feeling of his hand.

"I hadn't realized you both were coming." Your voice came out shakily. Fingers crossed that they didn't catch on to your ever-growing anxiety.

"Jos managed to get passes and invited me to come along. Since you and Max are close he figured we should be too." Your father explained. "Though I'm shocked they didn't come from Max himself."

You tried hard not to grimace. The realization that you might have to explain why doing nothing to help your panic creeping in slowly.

"I bet if you were as successful as Max, you wouldn't need him to give us the passes." Your father laughs in your direction.

"What is it you do again?" Jos suddenly turning towards you. A hint of a smirk on his lips.

"I'm in psychology."

"No wonder you need Max's money."

"Bet she has Max hypnotized with her knowledge of the brain or something."

The two were cracking up now. Laughing at your expense.

Your dad calmed down a moment. Breathing deeply to get his breath back. His face became neutral again, noticing the obvious frown you now dawned. "It was a joke, Y/N. There's no need to get upset. Max isn't going to be able to handle you eventually if you don't get thicker skin.

You'd had enough. Not wanting to cry in front of everyone, you turn to head back to the garage. Maybe even to hide in Max's driver room for a moment.

Though you didn't get far before a hand caught your wrist. "Stop ignoring me. It's disrespectful, and I am still your father." You didn't turn around. Didn't want him to see you cry. "I have you a life that was better than mine. My father would have never even tried. Yet, you still don't listen to me. Get your act together soon, please."

To outsiders, he sounded sincere. You, on the other hand, knew exactly what he was doing.

Yanking your hand back, you continue walking without giving the two older men a second glance.

If you were home, you would lock yourself in your room til he threatened to take your door. Then, you would shower and hide in the bathroom. If that didn't work, you would try to look productive and cry silently so he couldn't be mad at you for doing such an action as letting the tears roll. He thinks it's over dramatic.

Somtimes he would take to slamming things around. Doors, chairs, his phone, things in his room, not at you but purposely loud.

It didn't matter how hard you worked, it would never be enough. This is how you and Max are able to understand each other. You knew exactly what the other needed because both of you have lived this.

As soon as the race was over, you went to celebrate Max and his victory. The moment was joyful for him. Making a mental note to tell him what happened earlier, you decided now definitely wasn't the time.

Neither was when you got back to your hotel room after celebrating. Or when you took a phone call from your dad with more lovely words that made you feel disgusting in your own skin. Or the plane ride back to Monaco. Or when you got home and immediately went to shower because your entire body felt like it was dirty from nothing but your dad and Jos harassing you.

You didn't tell your mom either, she had enough things to deal with. You didn't tell anyone for that matter.

Max had caught on when he noticed you weren't sleeping. When you weren't eating. When you started apologizing excessively. Habits he thought he broke when he was able to get you to move in with him through constant reassurance.

Now, you were moving backward while he was moving forward.

Then he put the pieces together. He only wished he saw it sooner. Could've stopped what happened before it was pulled like a ruug out from under him.

You had flown home to see your sibling(s) for a week. You missed them dearly and wanted to spend time with them while Max was away.

It had started smoothly, your dad being civil with you, a few sarcastic remarks thrown around here and there, but nothing too bad.

He was trying to convince you to come back home, where you belonged. You kept brushing him off, telling him you're happy where you are now.

It only got worse from there. Your father and Jos had gotten closer over time. He had coincidentally come knocking at the door while you were there. He said he was in the area and wanted to say hello.

Your sibling(s) had tried to get you out of the house, but you only said it would make things worse. It earned you some feelings of sadness, but they left you to converse regardless.

The four of you sat in the living room. Your mom and you mostly listen to the two men catching up.

Then your mom left to make dinner. You stood up with the intention of following before being stopped by the pair.

"Jos tells me Max has been ignoring him."

Your tempted to roll your eyes but refrain in case he's paying close attention.

"Yes, I was wondering if you could tell me the reason behind it. Have you been filling his head with lies about our exchange awhile back?" Jos' smirk makes you want to hit him. Again you refrain, knowing that he can and will hurt you if you're out of line.

"He saw why happened." You state. Making a move to hold your ground.

"He hears what you said as he came inside. He fell for the obvious manipulation. I can't believe you even blamed the bruise on me." He fakes a look of offense.

Your father shakes his head on disgust. Your body goes rigid. Voices begin sounding like they're underwater. You hang your head in defeat as they continue to accuse you of things you would never do.

"Stop it!" You snapped. Something in you breaking loose.

In seconds, a cup was shattered against the wall, and your face was burning with the sting of someone's palm.

You know you had to leave. The adrenaline from your flight response is kicking in.

So you ran, grabbing what you could and quickly exiting the house. Your mom is doing her best to keep her distance from your dad while he throws his temper tantrum and Jos convincing him that I am an entitled brat.

You definitely didn't have all your stuff, but it didn't matter. You called an Uber and found your way back to the airport. Finding and flight back to Monaco you could.

You received a few texts from your dad before blocking him and called the rest of your family to apologize for your behavior and say you'd wished you'd had more time.

Then you called Max. You hand messaged him back since mid-morning and he was starting to get concerned.

"Hello Lovely, is everything alright? I haven't heard much from you today?" His cheery voice made your smile just a little.

"Yes, but I'm coming home early. I'm on an early flight back home." Your voice is on the verge of breaking. You send a silent prayer that he doesn't catch one.

You hear his phone buzzing with notifications. "How were things at the factory?" You ask, making an attempt to change the subject.

"Is was alright, did some marketing and PR things today. Daniel says Hello." He chuckles. "My dad has been texting me though, which is odd."

You hear him sigh deeply. "Are you sure you're okay? Because he's trying to convince me of things I know aren't true."

"Your dad was there visiting mine coincidentally." The damage holding back your tears was coming loose. "I messed everything up again."

"Mijn liefje, you did nothing of the sort." His voice once again had that gentle tone. One that made you feel safe. "I'm not sure how fast I can he back in Monaco, but I'll meet you there as soon as I can."

By the time you had landed, it was early in the morning. You considered just waiting in the airport until it was brighter and then walking home since Max was still in Austria. So, the text that came from Lando that he was coming to get you was a bit of a shock.

You were relieved when he pulled in. Satey once again within your reach.

"Thanks for coming to get me."

"No worries, Max called and asked if I could. Said it was a bit on an emergency but didn't say what happened." He smiled at you, trying to get you to become less defensive.

You hadn't realized how tense you still were. Your body is still trying to shrink in on itself.

You attempted small talk until he pulled into up to the apartment. "Thanks again for the ride." Then you rushed inside as fast as possible.

The floor became your best friend. Everything after opening the door became blurry.

When you woke up later on the bathroom floor with Max's sweatshirt as your pillow, you had no idea how it happened.

Texts from Max and Lando lined your notification wall. Your body too heavy to move however, you resigned to back to the comfort of the floor and the comforting smell of Max.

The next time you woke up, you heard keys jingling in the door.

You curled into yourself. Hiding from the inevitably of confronting what happened only a day earlier.

"Love, are you here? I'm home!"

You wanted to crawl to him. Seek comfort in his arms. But your own mind was stopping you. Replaying everything that they said about you.

You heard him drop his bags and begin his search. Bedroom, kitchen, office, terrace, then finally bathroom. He knew he should have checked their first. The bathroom had always been your safe space. He often found you just sitting in the empty bathtub if life felt overwhelming.

He peeked around the corner, his face instantly softening at the sight of you.

Neither of you said anything as he crouched down next to you. Unsure the extent of what happened, he refrained from touching you.

"Can I hug you?" His voice almost a whisper. As if speaking any louder would shatter you like that glass your dad had thrown as you made your escape.

You slowly nod yes but make no effort to move. You end up not having to as Max pulls you into his arms. Your body draped over his lap.

You felt so small in this moment, with his hand caressing the back of your head.

The dam broke. A hard sob wracked your body. Wailing into Max's chest.

"You're safe now, I got you." He whispered. His hold unrelenting until the tears were able to slow.

"I'm so sorry." Your voice muffled from his chest. "You were so happy I didn't want to ruin it, so I didn't tell you."

"I'm happiest when I know you are also doing well. You can't ruin that for me. I love you too much to see you like this." He pulled your face back, his soft eyes meeting yours.

He was finally able to take in the bruise on your cheek. Once again, not able to stop the unrelenting force of your fathers misdemeanors against you both.

He was angry, you could tell. You saw the rage flash through his eyes.

Knowing that's not what you needed right now, though, he softened again. "Who did this to you love?"

You began rapidly shaking your head no. Not wanting to relive it and not wanting to make things more difficult for him. "I can't-" you started.

"It's my job to make sure you're safe because I love you. It's not going to be an inconvenience." He always knew what to say.

"Jos." Was all you could muster before you were crying into his shoulder again.

You told him everything. All the events in the past few months. Every awful word spoken towards you. How he understood you, you have no idea.

The two of you stayed like that until you fell asleep in Max's arms. Knowing you couldn't stay here forever, he brought you to the bed and tucked you in. His lips on your forehead the last sensation before you were completely lost to your subconscious.

MAX'S POV

Everything about the situation made him want to break down. He thought he would finally be able to move on. He did, kind of, but left you behind in the process.

He knew something was wrong but didn't want to force you to open up. You needed to process things longer and came to him when you were ready.

This situation affected you differently though. Your response to your father had always been inward. Taught from a young age just to take it and nit talk about it. Convinced that you shouldn't paint your home life as bad because you had a roof over your head and food on your table.

He understands, though his reactions are different. Often not understanding that something was wrong and just talking about it like it was normal.

Daniel was the first to question, and you were the first to get him like nobody else.

You broke eachothers bad habits you'd learned from years of toxicity. Started learning better communication. Working through things and understanding eachothers responses.

He could never thank you enough for your help with his dad. Standing up for him despite the physical altercation was brave. He knew it was hard for you but you loved him enough to do it anyways.

Now, it was his turn to help you through this. He didn't care how long it took.

The bruise on your cheek only sparked a fire in him. He was tired of the hurt your fathers were causing. He knew now that both of you deserved better.

So, he would help it get better.

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writerscall · 6 months

Text

i cannot be your friend, so i pay the price of what i lost. and what it cost now that we don't talk.

because pushing her away was easier than having to stomach seeing her be with someone else.

author's note/s: 1k words. this is part one of a series. close friends to sad strangers to surprise college roommates is a trope, right?

Ignoring Hazel for the rest of the year wasn’t an easy decision or any easy thing to do. You two weren’t attached at the hip but you were such good friends that even the people who didn’t really talk to either of you eventually asked if you two had a falling out. We’re both just pretty busy at this time of senior year, you’d tell them; you had no idea what Hazel’s answer was to that, and you didn’t wanna know. It hurt you to ice her out but after what happened at the game, you just couldn’t be around her. Not when it was clear that PJ was in the picture like that.

Really, you should’ve been happy for her. You were one of the first people she came out to and even though she never explicitly said it, you knew she wanted to experience one relationship, or even a sort of fling, before high school ended. But your wishful thinking that it could’ve been the two of you in the end like some cliche really was just that — wishful thinking. That kiss and the way she and PJ acted around each other after said it all.

So you blocked it all out. Joined some clubs to fill up your schedule and actually make you as busy as you said you were, focused on academics like never before, got closer to other friends (for obvious reasons but also, why the hell not? It was senior year and you might not see some of them again). Overall, there were pros to what you decided to do about your crush on Hazel Callahan. You were making the most out of a sucky situation.

What you weren’t proud of was deciding to go out with the baseball team’s captain on a whim, and then agreeing to really date him after. He was nice and was a pretty good boyfriend, but you weren’t as into him as he was into you. But that was the least of your concerns throughout that relationship that inevitably came to an end as graduation neared.

You’ll never forget the complicated look on her face the day he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek at your locker. You’ll never forget the ‘Can we talk now? Please?’ text she sent that night, her last attempt at reaching out before she took to ignoring you too.

And that was it. Hazel wasn’t part of your senior year until its end and you assumed it would be the same for the rest of your life, or at least for a long, long time.

But the universe just loved playing cruel tricks sometimes.

“Okay, you’re sure you’ve got everything? Those new notebooks, your writing materials, enough bras and pa—”

“Okay, mom!” You cut her off with a nervous laugh, silently thanking god that your roommate and whoever was helping her move in hadn’t arrived yet. “I’ve got it all, I promise. It’s okay for you to go now.”

Your mother sighs as she reaches out to give your arm a squeeze, and after a few more pointers for your first day and about five ‘you can always give us a call for anything’ reminders, you were alone. You smile to yourself as you look at your fixed up side of the dorm, jittery in a good sense. Everyone said college was different from high school in the best way and you were determined to make it so. Even though you knew how much busier and hectic life would get with university level academics.

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t hear the door open. It’s only when that painfully familiar voice says your name that you snap out of it.

Hazel Callahan, practically the same as ever, standing in the doorway with her luggages and a duffel bag across her body. She manages a smile, small and hesitant. To your surprise, all you can say is, “You’re my roommate?”

Her face twitches in disappointment, smile faltering noticeably. You didn’t mean for that to come off the way it clearly did but the question escaped you before you could think. Of all the people in the world — or even just of all the people in high school, it just had to be her? You were over Hazel. You’d tried so hard and honestly haven’t thought about her much at all since graduation.

Only for all that effort to feel like it was undone within seconds. Fantastic.

“Trust me, I… I didn’t know this would be the arrangement. My mom’s got an old friend here who could probably do a room switch for one of us — I mean, for me I guess, you’ve already got your side of the room fixed up while I’m still all packed, so—”

You put a hand up to stop her. “Hazel, it’s fine. We can share this room. All that stuff from…” You let the sentence trail off and clear your throat. “I mean, it doesn’t matter anymore, it never really has.”

Though expecting her to brighten even slightly at your attempt at an olive branch, her expression stays the same. Complicated actually, like the one she had upon seeing you and your (short-lived) senior year boyfriend for the first time in school. You try not to think about it.

“Anyway, I’ve got some things to go check with the registrar’s office, so I’ll get out of your hair so you can unpack and all that.” There was nothing to check with at the registrar’s office, but you needed to find some place that wasn’t your dorm to pull yourself together. Or maybe scream.

There’s a look of understanding on her face but shakes her head at you. “You wouldn’t be in the way. We could use this time to catch up. It’s been a long while, you know?”

Well, you certainly weren’t ready for that, so you just say something about wanting to get to the office while it wasn’t too busy yet. You cast her a side glance with a smile that you really hoped didn’t look forced or fake as you watch her bring in her things, then make a beeline for the door.

But you stop when she asks, “Hey, um, maybe we can sit with each other at the orientation tomorrow?”

“Uh… yeah, sure.” And you knew that didn’t sound forced or fake with the way Hazel almost grins at you.

Yeah, you really needed to find a place to scream somewhere on campus.

#hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan fanfic #hazel callahan

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gingiesworld · 8 months

Text

Deep Emotions

Part Four to Culinary Lessons / Deadly Actions / Keeping Distance

Warnings: Slight angst. Fluff. Happy Ending.

MILF Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

18+ MINORS DNI

As the months had went by, it became obvious to everyone that Wanda was indeed pregnant, her ex husband was in prison and even all of the parents at the twins school knew about the incident.

"I can't leave the house Piet." Wanda told him in a hushed tone. "Everyone here is looking at me."

"Wanda, all of this is the result of your actions and the reaction it has caused." Pietro stated. "The twins aren't getting included much in school anymore. Tommy isn't allowed to play because they're afraid he will have a mean streak like his father."

"I." Wanda took a deep breath as the tears started to flow. "I should have just divorced him before everyone got too out of hand."

"It's too late for that Wanda." He told her. "Everything has already blew up. Yelena has also told me that Y/N is thinking about moving closer to the city."

"What?" Wanda whispered as he nodded.

"Yeah. I think she mentioned about them looking at houses in Westchester." He told her. "And it's going to happen soon so you need to tell them about the baby."

"I can't." She whispered. "I don't know how."

"Just go over there and talk to them." He told her. "It is there child and besides, I am going to take the twins for the weekend to see mom and dad." He stated as he disappeared to pack the twins bags as Wanda took a deep breath. Pietro smiled when he finally heard the front door open and close.

Wanda hurried over the road and knocked on Y/N's door. Smiling as she heard Y/N's voice call through to wait. Shs turned around and looked over to her home, well it doesn't feel like home anymore.

"Wanda?" Y/N was shocked to see her standing there. "Come in." They stepped aside as she smiled shyly. Stepping inside before she followed them through the living room. "How are you?" They asked her, already seeing an obvious reason she is here but not wanting to jump straight into it.

"You're leaving?" She questioned as she noticed the boxes as Y/N nodded.

"I have put an offer on a house in Westchester. It's closer to Lila and since I don't have a job here." Y/N stated as Wanda took a deep breath. "I have no reason to stay here."

"What about me?" She whispered as Y/N gave her a sad look.

"I." They took a deep breath before continuing. "I care about you deeply. Probably more than I should but I have my daughter I need to think about. I have to put her first."

"But the baby?" She whispered as they gave her a sad look.

"I know it's mine." They told her. "I do want to be there for you Wanda, I do but I also need to be there for me."

"Then why leave?" She questioned as Y/N looked down. "Why leave here?"

"Because I almost died in this house Wanda." They told her. "I really do have feelings for you, I do but." They took a shaky breath. "I am scared. I was at the brunt end of your husband's rage and well, I remember wanting to do that to Steve but I didn't."

"Y/N." Wanda took a deep breath.

"I want to be a part of the baby's life but I can't have you uproot your family's life." They stated as she shook her head.

"To be honest, we could do with a change." Wanda stated. "The twins aren't having the best time right now. Everyone knows what their father did and they are receiving the backlash for that."

"Wanda." They tried as Wanda just shook her head.

"Maybe this is what we would need. A new start with new faces." Wanda stated.

"Wanda, my ex wife also lives in Westchester." They told her.

"Oh yeah." Wanda sighed sadly. "Well, I guess this is it."

"This is it Wanda." Y/N confirmed. "I have to do this. I will leave my number for the baby and if you need me for anything." Wanda just nodded before she stood up.

"It was nice knowing you Y/N." Wanda stated dryly before she left. A smirking Yelena came downstairs as Y/N groaned.

"You know, you're kind of a dick." She stated as Y/N just glared at her. "She is pregnant, with your kid I might add and you have practically shunned her and the kid already."

"Lena, you wouldn't understand." They told her.

"Y/N, I know you. You were my best friend before you got with Nat." She told them. "I can see that you really feel something for her too."

"It's complicated." They told her.

"No it's not." Lena told them. "She is divorced and having your kid!"

"I." They tried to come up with another answer but they couldn't.

"Just go over their and talk to her." Lena ordered as she practically shoved them out of the house. They sighed as they heard the bolt on the front door to see Lena gestured through the window.

Y/N stumbled over to the Maximoff residence and knocked softly on the door. Only moments later Wanda had opened it with a look of confusion. Before she could question anything, Y/N captured her lips as they cupped her cheeks, Wanda gripped their wrists as the kiss went on as she led them inside. Y/N pushed her up against the wall as the kiss grew hungrier.

"What?" She questioned as the two pulled away. "I thought."

"I think I love you Wanda." They told her as they gazed in her eyes. "I know that I want this between us to be something more. I know that for sure, but I am afraid."

"Why are you afraid?" She asked them.

"I don't want to get my heart broken again." They whispered. "And I don't want the boys to hate me either."

"Your heart is safe." She whispered as she looked in their eyes. "I already have fallen for you Y/N. Before that night, you had my heart from the moment you actually made me feel seen."

"So how do we do this?" They whispered as Wanda smiled.

"I'll find an apartment in the city." She whispered. "The twins could do with a fresh start too."

"No." They shook their head. "The house I'm buying has more than enough room for all of us. The twins, Lila and the baby will all have their own rooms."

"What about you and I?" Wanda questioned as they traced her jawline with their fingers.

"We have the master bedroom." They answered her as they gazed in her eyes. "It can be our new start."

"A big family." Wanda smiled as her fingers danced around the scar on their hairline. "I'm so sorry this happened to you." They just pecked her lips as they smiled at her.

"A new start."

That is what they had done, both Y/N and Wanda waited until after the baby was born to tell the twins and Lila about their relationship. Wanting to reduce the amount of changes they had to endure.

Wanda stood watching as she held the new baby boy, Lukas in her arms as Nat let herself in. Smiling as she saw the scene before her. Y/N and the three kids having a water fight.

"They seem like a happy family." Nat stated as Wanda nodded. "Do the boys ask about your ex?"

"Not anymore." Wanda whispered. "The first six months was the hardest for them but even he has never bothered to reach out to them."

"But they have Y/N." Nat told her. "Even if they aren't their's by blood, they will treat them as such. They have already started to save a college fund for each of them too. Matching what Lila already had."

"What?" Wanda was shocked by this news.

"Yeah. They asked my opinion of it since we both have shared custody. They wanted an outside opinion." Nat rambled as Wanda smiled endearingly at them as they all laughed together. "They really love you you know. I can see it with how they look at you."

"Like how they used to look at you?" Wanda questioned as Nat shook her head.

"No. When they look at you, nothing else comes into view." She told her with a smile. "Just how you're looking at them now."

Wanda was happy with her life now, she never realised that she could be happy keeping a home and raising children with the love that she finally found in her life. Y/N was the love of her life and nothing would change that.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #natasha romanoff

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melonteee · 5 months

Note

About Sanji being feral with men/older men, I remember reading once in a fanfic how an OC or SI (I can't remember which ^^; ) suggested that the reason why Sanji is nice to women and rude to men is because of his family. That at a young age he formed the mindset that women tended to be good people while men tend to be bad people because when he was young only women (his mom and to an extent his sister) were the only ones to treat him with kindness while the men in his life (his brothers and father) treated him like shit.

That kind of makes sense and I can no longer unsee it.

I'm so sorry this got so long because I have so much to say about Sanji and his perception of gender so read under the cut LMAO

Anon the SECOND his WCI story was revealed, that was the literal first thing I noticed. As always, Oda has an incredible show don't tell ability - and while it is implied (and maybe Oda didn't have the intention), there's certainly an idea that Sanji puts women on a pedestal due to how men abused him.

But considering Reiju helped Sanji, and how there were maids around Sanji who were also kind to him, along with his own mother, I'd say it's extremely intentional. Reiju also isn't exactly the nicest person either, like she's presented as a total grey area. It's not that Reiju was kind to Sanji just because she was a 'nurturing' big sister, but because she was the only one who didn't have her emotions literally programmed out of her. Reiju still gave Sanji a tough time, and still didn't help him unless it was behind Judge's back, but she still showed him more kindness than Sanji's father or brothers EVER did.

While there's an obvious misogyny in Sanji, and it IS undeniable, it certainly slides much further up on the misandry scale. When he was first brought into the world, the only people nice to him were women. His first memories and first acts of care and love came from women. He was allowed to cry around his mother, he was allowed to let his guard down around Reiju, and he was allowed to be his 'emotional' self with the women that surrounded him. It is undeniable Sanji has elevated women up to a being higher than men, and much higher than his OWN existence. This has all mixed and formed inside him due to his time with the Vinsmokes AND his time with Zeff.

After all, combine Sanji's first and only real acts of affection coming from JUST women, with Zeff's ideology that women are NOT to be harmed, of course you're going to create a boy who idolises women as this holy deity.

Not to go a bit off track, but it's why this idea that Sanji HATES himself, and why he has ZERO self worth, is ALSO something people tie to his gender. Does Sanji take pride in being a 'manly man', or does he think that's what he needs to be for women? Does Sanji compensate his hate for his own self by being this extremely overdone, heteronormative gentleman? By projecting his love onto beings he believes he can never be nor measure up to?

When of course, these 'beings' are just women. Just people, like himself.

The discussions surrounding Sanji and gender, combined with his abusive male environment and this clear confusion/hatred for men, is WHY there are many who have picked up this idea Sanji perhaps does not want to BE a man. It can be called a stretch, or wishful thinking, but it's something people within the queer community have seen nonetheless.

After all, we have SEEN Sanji's happiness upon being perceived as a woman - TWICE.

Sanji quite literally has a deadname he refuses to be referred to as.

And now, with his current mutation happening, he is becoming afraid of - and displaced IN - his own body.

Sanji is such a weird and complicated character to fathom, honestly. It could VERY well be these were all things Oda just accidentally tripped and banged head first into, but WCI as a whole had a pretty big focus on not JUST familial roles, but expectations and roles of GENDER as well.

Katakuri's need to be stern and emotionless as an older brother, Pudding's abuse due to the fact she wasn't 'pretty' enough, Big Mum's daughters being married off unless they proved they can serve some OTHER purpose, Sanji's brothers forcefully cold and emotionless, Reiju needing to bottle her own emotions with fear of being bullied, SANJI'S bullying due to being an emotional boy, Judge HIMSELF being made fun of for his crying.

Combined all with Reiju telling Sanji "You're a boy, don't cry!"

WCI was fucking RIDDLED with gender discussion and gender expectation that comes with blood family, but this idea is pushed to the side due to the themes of familial abuse being the most prominent. Yet a BASE of familial abuse IS expectations of gender roles that comes WITH a nuclear family.

As much as people don't want to see it or CAN'T see it, Sanji's character and arc includes areas of toxic gender norms JUST as much as it covers blood family abuse. It's just something that's taken to an extreme in this hyper fiction setting, and thus, it can become invisible beneath the surface. But I see it! And obviously, you see it too anon!

Sorry for the rant I am just VERY passionate about Sanji's complicated relationship with gender LMAO

#ask #melonask #Sanji #SORRY AGAIN LMAO

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dotieeee · 4 months

Text

The Gamemaker's Apprentice

Level 2

Pairing: Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow x You, named!Reader

Overall Warnings:

NON-CON, DUB-CON, Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow, Snow himself should be a warning, lots of blackmailing, gaslighting, manipulation, obsession, possesiveness, eventual forced marriage, eventual loss of virginity, breeding kink, canon-compliant major character death, reader is named but has no physical descriptions in the fic so one might also consider her an OC but in 2nd POV, will have canon inconsistencies, and other stuff that may be added

Masterlist

Level 2 Warnings:

Light Sejanus x Reader (we all know how this goes down 🥺), canon-compliant major character death, angst, SNOW and his obsessive thoughts are obsessive af, chapter longer than anticipated

Replay Level 1

Ready? Level 2 Start:

It’s just like you had predicted: Coriolanus Snow is declared victor at the tenth Hunger Games.

But despite the success, and the prestige and this Plinth Prize that had come with it, his win had already been dampened by the chaos that ensued even before the Games had begun.

Arachne had been fatally attacked by her tribute for taunting him with a sandwich. Although her behaviour towards her tribute had been childish and uncalled for, nobody deserved to die the way she did. On the day of the funeral, the corpse of the tribute who killed her was placed on a hook like livestock and was displayed for everyone to see, and the Capitol took pride in marching the tributes along in a sickening parade. ‘Monster,’ they had called her. But Brandy, the said tribute, was a byproduct of an upbringing that taught her to ‘kill or be killed,’ born into monstrous circumstances that the Capitol had helped create. City Circle had a good look at all of them: merely children, gaunt, starving, and poorly clothed: a stark difference to the luxuries the city liked to indulge itself in.

Coriolanus had sung the Gem of Panem at the funeral for some reason, which was nice of him to do, nonetheless.

Then came the bombing at the Arena where the Games were to be held.

The mentors and the tributes had been on a tour inside when the bombs had gone off. The twins from your class, Apollo and Diana, had died in an instant. Coriolanus and a few others had to be hospitalised.

You and some of your classmates had a chance to visit him at the hospital two days after the attack. Not wanting to come empty-handed, you brought a box of brownies you baked, placed a note and left it on the nightstand beside his bed when no one was looking, not wanting to draw attention.

You suspected that your uncle hadn’t had a wink of sleep since the bombing. He was rarely home. When he was, it was only to retrieve papers or hard drives and disks he had in his home office or to sneak a few bites of food from the kitchen. Everybody in the Citadel working on the Games is stressed, he had said, working tirelessly and in shifts to avoid further mishaps. Dr. Gaul, the Head Gamemaker and your uncle’s boss at the Citadel, sounded generally unsatisfied with the way the Games are running.

Good, you had thought to yourself. Maybe this could spell the end of them. Perhaps not as good for the tributes or the mentors, though.

One night, however, you received an unusual phone call from Ma Plinth, Sejanus’s mom. She had said her son was missing and that she was going to the Snows to check up on him.

You ran to the Snow residence. Conveniently, they lived in the Main Corso building just right in front of yours, Corso III. You found Ma Plinth talking to Coriolanus at the door, practically begging him to find out where Sejanus was.

Coriolanus’s acquiesced and beckoned you inside, too.

But you never had a chance to talk, because Ma Plinth had then begun exclaiming that she just saw Sejanus on TV inside the arena.

Inside the fucking Arena.

What had possessed him to do such a thing became obvious to everyone watching: he just sprinkled breadcrumbs on his tribute’s body. It was a traditional send-off to the afterlife in District 2, you remember him telling you before.

You shared an alarmed look with Coriolanus as the phone rang. He was quick to pick it up. The rather short conversation was enough to render him even paler than usual.

He took you aside, out of earshot from Ma Plinth and Tigris, and whispered urgently:

“Gaul has told me to get him out there.”

“What? That’s insane,” you whispered back. “You’re both insane! You can’t seriously be thinking of going alone.”

Coriolanus looked worried. You’ve never seen him that worried before, but his determined tone said he wasn’t going to change his mind.

“I have to,” he said and pulled you towards the door. You understood his meaning then: go home.

“I’m coming with you, it’s not safe,” you had tried insisting.

“Exactly why you need to go home, Nellie. You’re going to need to forget this happened and stay home. I’ll bring Sejanus back.”

He didn’t even wait for your response and just took off.

You had spent the rest of the night with little sleep after, debating whether to call Coriolanus or Sejanus to check if they’d both gotten home in one piece.

Thankfully, Coriolanus had given you the call in the morning after, and Sejanus had dropped by your home that afternoon, to confirm they were safe. You had asked Sejanus then if he wanted to talk about what happened, but he just shook his head and said he simply wanted to watch you do ‘whatever it is you do on that damn computer.’ You had warned him it might bore him to death, but he said he didn’t care.

Except an hour into your coding practice, he groaned and said “At least tell me what the hell it is I’m seeing.”

And you just laughed the kind of laugh only he got to hear.

You had been at home when your uncle called and gave you the news. It was over, and Coriolanus had won everything: the Games, and the Plinth Prize money, and against all odds he succeeded in keeping the girl Lucy Gray alive. He then said there was going to be a victory party but that it had been cancelled.

Coriolanus had been cheating in the games and he was going to be sent to the Districts to become a peacekeeper to atone for this misdemeanour.

By the time you had visited his home, Tigris said he had already packed and left to await his assignment.

You wondered then whether he might have fallen genuinely for his District 12 tribute enough to put himself and everything else on the line like that, and whether he intended to follow her. Good for him, discovering his humanity amidst all the corruption and the violence and the chaos, but you couldn’t help but think the dangers and the horrors he’ll face there as a peacekeeper might be more than enough to extinguish that.

Also, you had not heard from Sejanus at all – it’s like he’s snapped and he’s shutting everyone out, and when you dropped by his house, Ma Plinth said she hadn’t seen him all day.

This is why you nearly jump and drop the box of cookies you’re about to take with you to your room when the phone rings in the living room.

You dive to take the call and nearly blow up when you hear a familiar voice.

“Nellie, I’m coming over,” Sejanus says in a hurried tone.

He’s been avoiding you for days, and now he wants to just pop in and visit? “The fuck you are. Where have you been?”

Completely ignoring your question, he repeats with a little more force, “I’m coming over,” and hangs up.

The nerve of this guy.

So you wait for him. You think of everything you’re going to tell him, keeping you away like that. You’re aware he had been through a rough patch with the Games and the pressure from his father, but he’s supposed to let you help him get through this. That’s what you’re there for, as a friend to him. So when the bell rings on your apartment door, you pull it open forcefully, hoping to give him a piece of your mind.

Anything you had planned on saying dies down in your throat the moment you see his face.

It’s like he hasn’t slept or eaten in days, by the looks of him. His normally neat curls are in disarray, and his eyes are puffy and dull and distraught.

Once you let him in and he crosses the threshold, he says:

“I’m being drafted as a peacekeeper.”

First, Coriolanus; now him?

“What is going on, Janus?” you asked in a hushed, concerned voice.

He runs a hand through his hair and rubs his face. Your eyes dart from his face to the notebook he’s holding with his other hand.

He plops down on your couch and lays his head on the backrest. He stares at the ceiling for a moment, before explaining everything.

“I’m under suspicion for treasonous...acts, I guess. They were going to expel me. Dad, he pulled a few strings to get me and Coriolanus to graduate and get high-honour diplomas. In exchange for that, I have to be sent away. They’re watching me, Nellie.”

You take the empty seat beside him as you frown. “So, they’re basically drafting you to peacekeeping for entering the Arena and performing funeral rites on your tribute?”

“Yes, among other things.”

A blanket of silence passes between the two of you.

“When?” you ask finally. It comes out coarse and full of dread.

“Later today.”

You let in a sharp intake of breath. They’re taking him away for his flagrant displays of basic human decency.

You swallow that lump in your throat and ask, “Do you know where you’d be assigned to?”

“12. I wasn’t assigned to it. I’m going to ask to be sent there. After all, somebody’s got to keep an eye out for Pretty-boy Coryo. He’s not going to last long there without me,” he says with false bravado.

The smirk on your face is half-hearted. “When...” When will I see you again? “When are you coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

Your heart sinks to your stomach. You must’ve looked so upset because he holds your hand and squeezes. It’ll be a long time before you get to feel that hand-squeeze again.

“Nellie, don’t look at me like that. I didn’t come here just to say goodbye,” Sejanus says with those reassuring brown eyes. He shows you the small notebook he brought with him. “I spent days working on that. I didn’t sleep at all last night to get it finished. I’m sorry I couldn’t see you for the past few days, I didn’t want to come to you empty-handed.”

You quell that foreboding feeling in your heart and take the notebook with curiosity.

Sejanus says proudly, “Between the two of us, you were always the one with the solutions. This time, I got mine.”

You flip the notebook filled with his neat handwriting. On the first page are the words, ‘just in case.’

“Janus, what is this?”

He excitedly leans closer to you and says, “Code. We’re going to write each other in code. Here.” He fishes out another book from inside his jacket: an old, dog-eared book of condensed romantic novels.

It’s so odd a display you could not help commenting as you take the book. “Is this a one-of-a-kind deluxe collectable from the Plinth Family library?”

Sejanus laughs softly, the warm glow in his eyes slowly returning. Happy to see it again, you laugh with him. The smile on your face stays on for a few moments. How could it not when he’s there with you?

“So, we’re using this system to write to each other,” you conclude with a more serious tone. “You suspect they’ll be monitoring our letters.”

Sejanus lets out a weary sigh. “Yeah. I know you worry a lot, so I’d like to be able to exchange updates with you without putting you in trouble. Anything I write you that’s in the tone of subversion, which to them is the only language I know now, is going to raise suspicion. And I can’t risk that of you.”

You nod in understanding. You’re going to do your best to give him that – he’s going to need news of home when he’s there, it’s the least you could do to help. And in turn, you’ll have some form of assurance knowing that he’s doing okay.

“So, I wrote down references on the notebook for common things like, say, somebody threw a party or some shit. But anything serious, like, really serious that I haven’t thought of, that’s what that one-of-a-kind deluxe collectable is for.” He points at the book for emphasis. “You’re going to need to read that. Cover to cover.”

It isn’t your go-to genre, but you can easily manage that.

“You have another copy of this book?”

“Nah, I’ve read it many times. I remember every word.” This makes you raise a derisive eyebrow, to which he adds in mock defence, “Hey, sorry I wasn’t reading differential calculus. I was a kid, and it stuck, okay?”

Still giggling, you nodded in understanding. You hold the books close to your heart and give him a thankful look.

“We’re also going to need to burn the letters as soon as we read them. We can’t take any chances.” Sejanus gazes at you with a wistful smile. “I need you to be safe here, Nellie.”

This time, he takes both of your hands in his. The thought of not seeing your friend for a long time stirs up this cold emptiness inside you that threatens to grow even before he’s left. A treacherous tear runs down your cheek, followed by another, but he cups your face to wipe it away.

“Hey, I’ll be back in no time.”

“Okay,” you breathe. “Take care of your boyfriend, yes?” He chortles at this. “Take care of yourself, Janus. Know how to choose your battles, and when.”

He bobs his head as he lets you go. The absence of his warmth on your skin is immediate. He leans further but seems to hesitate. Instead, he gets to his feet.

It’s time.

You walk him to the door. You don’t exchange goodbyes anymore, maybe because you both believe you just did or maybe because there’s no need to.

You watch as he disappears into the hall towards the elevator. You don’t know why you linger, but before you close the door, a shout of your name keeps you in place. All that enters your line of vision are dishevelled brown curls before you feel a pair of lips latch onto yours.

Such warmth. And greedily, selfishly, you lean into that warmth, you take as much as you can get, for as long as you can.

You both pull away at the same time, your faces flush and beaming with a mixture of thrill and disbelief. Sejanus brings your foreheads close.

“Wait for me,” he whispers breathlessly.

You find yourself nodding fervently even before he finishes his request.

He plants a tender, lingering kiss on your forehead. With those soft brown orbs, he stares at you for a few seconds, still blushing, as he slowly backs away. And then he bolts, for good, taking all of that warmth with him. Your fingers travel subconsciously to your lips. Already, there’s a chill in you without him there, but you’ll endure. No matter how cold it gets.

For him.

The first letter from Sejanus arrived three weeks after your conversation. Nothing too drastic or fancy, if your decoding was accurate. Just mentions of the daily grind of a peacekeeper’s life. Drab, it may be, but you were glad to hear they were being fed well and weren’t getting into trouble. He hinted at Coriolanus being depressed at still having not found Lucy Gray. You remember being highly entertained by this development. You had guessed right, yet again: the elitist Snow, lovesick and pining over a girl from the districts who represents everything he stands against. What you would’ve given to have seen it for yourself.

These letters quickly become the highlight of your week when they arrive. You recall with disdain the women from those cheaply produced serialised dramas depicting them looking out the window in anticipation of news from their lovers at war. And here you were, acting like one, getting disgustingly giddy at the thought of a letter from your friend. The universe can be so vindictive, you thought to yourself with a laugh.

It was all lighthearted and fun until it wasn’t.

The tone in his letters shifted abruptly, indicating that the events in District 12 had become more tense and he had found questionable company.

You’re with your uncle at his private computer lab in the University, getting as much leg up as you can for your incoming classes. He had reminded you how high the expectations were of you to perform leagues beyond your peers because of your family name, so you took this to heart and started going with him whenever he went to teach summer classes. He’s at the other side of a long table piled to the ceiling with computer equipment, poring over the motherboard of an old computer he had taken apart. You’re going over a line of code you had entered on an unfamiliar programming language he was showing you the ropes on when a rap on the lab door is heard. The heavy carved door opens by a tiny fraction and a mailman’s head pokes in.

“Ah, wonderful, it’s here,” Uncle Cas mutters to himself as he gets to his feet to receive what appears to be a package with the Innis Tech logo stamped with the District 3 seal.

“From your aunt,” he clarifies, noticing your curious look.

His ex-wife: a strict, sharp-tongued woman he separated from before moving to the Capitol, with whom he left the task of managing the company-owned factories in District 3. You’re not that close to her, but you still call her Aunt Marcelline. You’ve stayed in her estate during your school break trips to District 3 while she busied herself with company matters.

“I designed a set of experimental microprocessors and sent her the blueprints. She mailed me the prototypes.”

Quietly, he slides a familiar envelope towards you. It’s always your uncle who hands you Sejanus’s letters. Weird that it looks like it came with his package, but you file that information away. With your code work abandoned, you all but tear the envelope open. The last one was three weeks ago, and you had been growing more anxious as the recurrence between them went further than the last. You glance at your uncle to ensure he isn’t watching, but he’s already had his back turned to you, presumably to assemble the microprocessors. You take out your references for the code and decipher the letter at once, hoping it isn’t as nowhere as alarming as his previous one. He had, after all, hinted at meeting a known rebel and had sympathised with his plight.

What you discover has you cursing under your breath and fearful for your friend’s life.

From across the table, your uncle mutters absently, “Nothing bad, I hope.” You deliberately ignore him.

Ammunition. Sejanus is supplying the rebels with money for ammunition.

What the actual fuck, Janus?

He ends the letter with a vow to return to you so you can make a difference together, just like he does every time. Only this time, this doesn’t comfort you at all.

In the letter you send back, you advise him against making another move and ask him – beg him – to put this all to an end. Understanding their plight and saying a change is much needed? That’s fine. Supplying the rebel forces with weapons? Downright madness. And where is Coriolanus in this? Is he in it, too? Why would he let his own best friend get involved in something he could be labelled a traitor for?

His next letter after that wasn’t much better.

Nothing about acts of rebellion, or of acquiring ammunition. Instead, the entire letter is Sejanus asking if you would come with him and live in the mountains if he asked you to. If you would meet him and run away with him if he told you where and when. The worst part of it was the underlying despair in the tone as if this was a last resort. If perhaps you were normal teenagers in normal circumstances it would’ve sent butterflies flying in your stomach and you’d be a wreck muffling your squeals of excitement with a pillow – except none of this was normal, and the friend you’re writing to is in District 12, has either committed treason or on the verge of committing treason and you’re stuck in the Capitol, unable to do a damn thing to keep any of it from happening.

It takes you a while to respond to his bizarre letter of his.

If I could be there in a heartbeat, I would. If you tell me where, I’ll follow. If you tell me when, I’ll leave right at that second. But please, please, Janus, be very careful, don’t do anything else that could get you in trouble. Please, come back, and we’ll talk about this then when you do. Be safe for us.

***

You stay distracted and jittery for the next nineteen days, and by the end of the twentieth day of no word from Sejanus, you had not eaten a single bite of food in your distress. You lay on the couch and turn the TV to a late-night drama called ‘Young Hearts,’ something about a peacekeeper trying to find the lover he left behind after his twenty-year draft. Nothing young about that, you mutter yourself miserably and close your eyes, trying to think of any clue you could’ve missed in your friend’s letters.

The next thing you know, you’re being gently shaken awake by Uncle Cas calmly calling your name out with mildly drawn together in worry.

He hands you over a glass of water, which you gratefully accept. You’re extremely parched and your throat is sore.

“Nellie. You were having nightmares again.”

That figures. Rarely do you remember these nightmares, but your uncle has woken you up in this manner too many times to count for you to know you had been screaming yourself hoarse, calling out for your parents in the dead of night.

Your uncle releases an audible sigh. “What is it this time?”

You peer at his worried, exhausted eyes, feeling your own starting to sting.

“Is this about a boy? Do I have to break an eighteen-year-old’s leg?”

You burst into a laughing-crying fit, at which your uncle’s mouth upturns.

“I’m sure you know this, by now, but stressing yourself out like this...you have not had nightmares in a long time, Nellie. This isn’t good,” he admonishes softly.

You begin confessing, “It’s Sejanus –“

“– Aaaand it’s about a boy. Got it. I’ll break his arms instead when he comes back, I’ll deal with Strabo Plinth after.”

You wipe your tears with your palm as you stifle your laughter. “Uncle, please, be serious,” you let out a couple of sniffs, letting the sobs fade. “He hasn’t written in almost three weeks. What if something happened to him?”

Your uncle puts an arm around your head and tucks you under his chin. “Plumcake, communication between –“

“– the Districts take a long time to get delivered, I know. I can’t help it. But why do I feel like...like something’s wrong this time? I mean, I feel like that all the time –“

“– because you tend to overthink, plumcake,” he finishes. “Add to that missing meals, sleeping irregularly? You’re not going to help Sejanus by worrying yourself to death.”

Of course, he’s right. He’s right. You can’t both be falling apart at the same time.

You nod lightly on his shoulder, feeling a light kiss on your hair. He lets go of you, and takes out a chocolate bar from his pyjama’s front pocket, urging you to eat something. You take it with trembling hands.

“How long has this been inside your pocket?” you mumble as you chew mechanically.

Uncle Cas just snorts and scoffs, “I don’t sleep with candy on me if that’s what you’re implying.”

A comforting silence passes between you two before your uncle leans forward and peers at you with a contemplative look.

“You love this boy.”

It isn’t a question, you notice. This kind of talk with your uncle is unchartered territory, because, as he’s quoted before, you’ve never given him any kind of ‘boy trouble,’ to which he’s thankful. But this is different. Sejanus isn’t just some boy; he’s a dear friend who needs help and you’d do just about anything to get to him at that very moment.

“I...I don’t know.”

Oh, but you know. You always know.

“But you would run away with him if he asked you to?”

You turn to look at him sharply in surprise. How did he know?

As if he read your mind, he says with a dry smile, “I pulled quite a lot of strings to make sure those letters get to the only hands that are meant to handle them.”

Of course. This is Acacius Innis you’re dealing with, Panem’s most prolific computer scientist and mathematical genius. Your code was probably just another crossword puzzle for him to solve while he was casually sipping his morning coffee. He’s been protecting you all this time. How he’s doing it, you feel like you wouldn’t like the answer to, but your heart just seems to find a way to love him even more. What would you do without him, you have no idea. Tears threaten to spill once more from your eyes, so all you can manage is a wet, grateful smile.

“I was young once, too, plumcake,” He reaches to ruffle your hair, flashing you a knowing smile. “Your aunt Marcelline and I, oh boy...did I ever tell you about that time we –”

Here we go. An Acacius Innis diversionary tactic special: overwhelm his niece with tales about him and his bossy ex-wife sneaking off to abandoned warehouses to make out on top of electrical equipment. He’s used those at parties to great effect.

“You know what, maybe I will run away with Sejanus.”

“Do that and I’ll break his arms, plus his legs, when he comes back.”

The phone rings in the living room as you pack some of your clothes. Your uncle presumably picks the phone up since it quiets down, leaving you to organise your suitcase in peace.

Your uncle had advised you this morning to take a break at your Aunt Marcelline’s estate in District 3. He said you needed the change of scenery to clear your head in time for your college freshman year. You had argued with him about staying for any news of your oddly quiet friend, but he didn’t want to hear any of it.

Something is wrong and you can’t shake it off, no matter how hard you try to rationalise.

With your five days' worth of clothes packed and ready to go, you trudge to the living room to call your uncle and get the trip over with. It doesn’t feel right to leave when you have a friend from whom you have not heard a single peep.

“Uncle Cas? I’m done packing,” you call out to the living room.

You find him sitting on the sofa, leaning forward with an arm rested on his knee, his hand covering half of his face. He looks at you sombrely, rubs his face and heaves a deep sigh.

“Trip’s cancelled,” he says in a hushed tone. “Come and sit with me, Nellie.”

Something’s wrong.

But that thought, you ignore, along with that racing heartbeat echoing in your ears.

You sit on the space your uncle gestured, wiping your palms on your lap. Your uncle turns to you with an expression you’ve only ever seen him once. The same look he wore the day he picked you up at the hospital after your Mom and Dad died.

Dread pools in your gut, making you feel lightheaded and sick.

“Nellie, Sejanus is gone. He’s been executed for treason.”

A shaky breath escapes your lips as your mind races to the rational. It can’t be. He can’t be. He just wrote to you three weeks ago. He just asked you if you’d run away with him. He hasn’t even replied to the last letter you sent. You essentially said yes.

Vaguely, you feel hands cup your face, and you hear your uncle call your name, but you choose to listen to the words that replay in your head:

“Wait for me.”

You’ll never hear that voice again.

“But he promised,” you whisper, unable to see clearly. Your eyes are stinging. “He said I should wait for him. He promised.”

“Plumcake, I’m sorry.”

Your uncle encases you in a hug. It should be warm, right?

You feel nothing.

You’ll never feel his warmth again.

And just like the day your uncle came for you at the hospital, you let your grief out on his shirt, wailing for another loved one lost you were too helpless to save.

“You’ve been watching an awful lot of that drama.”

Your uncle enters the living room with a pint of chocolate chip mint ice cream and plops down the sofa before handing you a spoon. You shake your head quietly, your eyes glued to the TV.

“Alright, more for me,” your uncle mutters to himself.

The former peacekeeper had just missed the love of his life in the town square, and he was now running around the shops trying to spot the familiar face.

If only he had caught sight of her just as she turned the corner...

You adjust the thick woollen quilt around your form huddled to your knees at the corner, your mind blank for the first time in a long while of barely doing anything.

Your uncle seems to understand your need to mourn and has since respected your space, only coaxing you to eat or go out for ice cream, all of which you refuse.

But to your annoyance, no matter how much you try to adjust the quilt, it’s still pretty fucking cold.

Your uncle wordlessly wraps another blanket on you. You thank him mechanically, even if the blanket doesn’t help with anything.

How hard is it to get fucking warm in this damn house...

“Nellie, I could turn up the thermostat but we’d basically be close to steaming,” your uncle comments gently.

You flash him a weak smile and turn your attention back to the TV, where the former peacekeeper chases a woman he thinks is the girl. He catches up to her, but she struggles. They both fall on the ground just before the guy realises it isn’t his girl. It gets messy, as the girl screams for help and the guy despairs while he’s dragged away by the peacekeepers on duty.

What a load of bullshit, you think.

The phone in your uncle’s office rings, making him get up from the couch and leave the tub of ice cream on the coffee table. Your stomach rumbles – a rather bleak reminder of the last time you had eaten anything. Dragging the blankets along with you, you make tea in the kitchen as you spot your uncle out of his pyjamas and dressed in his usual wool coat.

“They need me at the lab, the driver’s waiting downstairs,” he says, poking his head in the kitchen. “You’ll be alright here, plumcake?”

“At this time?” your voice comes out hoarse from unuse.

“Yeah, what can I say? They love me there at the Citadel, they’re practically begging to get in my pants,” he shrugs. His tone is meant to be lighthearted but it lacks its usual bite. You notice the lines on his face, the bags underneath his eyes, those brows knitting slightly together in his worry. A pang of guilt hits you.

“I’ll be fine, Uncle Cas. Go do your thing. Make them love you even more, or whatever.”

He opens his mouth to say something but seems to decide against it. He ends up saying in his usual teasing tone, “Yeah, that’s the easy part. Eat something and then go to bed, will you? You’re starting to look like a fucking ghost.”

You just flash him a flat smile. He’s gone in a moment, the front door closing behind him.

You inhale the steam from the tea deeply, your hands feeling wonderful around the steaming mug of tea. The mug cools down, after a few minutes, leaving you craving for more warmth. The kettle on the stove was still warm. You abandon your half-filled mug and place your hands around that too, until the steel starts biting your fingers with the cold.

This won’t do.

Maybe a warm bath ought to.

You shed the heavy layers of blankets wrapped around you. You don’t bother taking your hoodie off or your pyjamas as you walk into the scalding bath.

You just need to be warm, after all. Then you’ll be okay. Deeply drawing in a breath, you lean against the tub and hug your knees.

Sejanus’s hug was almost this warm. So were his hands. And his lips.

It takes only a fraction of a second for you to burst into agonizing sobs.

You miss him. Terribly.

“You said you’d come back. You told me to wait for you. I’m still fucking waiting.”

But the bathroom walls only mildly echo your voice.

***

You wake up to your uncle close to screaming your name.

What’s wrong? You’re warm now, so warm. Shivers wrack your body as your Uncle Cas sets you down on the plush bathroom carpet. You’re perfectly, contentedly warm now, so the shaking should subside, right?

“Nellie, what the fuck, how long have you been in here?” your uncle chastises. He grabs as many towels as he can from the overhead cabinet and wraps them all around you. “Next time you want to kill yourself, there are more efficient methods.”

You try to choke back your tears, but they still spill. You’re warm now, but every limb and every muscle hurts.

With you wrapped in a cocoon of towels, your uncle crouches on the floor to take you in his arms. You drench his coat and his shirt, but he doesn’t care.

“I’m sorry, plumcake, I did not mean to say that,” he coos into the hair clinging to your head.

You tremble as you cling to the towels. Why does it hurt?

“What on earth were you trying to do?”

Unable to hold it in any longer, you confess. Everything you’ve been bottling up since five days ago on the day you lost your best friend.

“I’m s-orry,” you say through your sobs and chattering teeth. “Wa-want to be wa-warm. J-janus was s-so warm, and now I’ll be c-c-cold. I just w-want him to hold my hand again like he d-did when I told him...mom and d-ad...”

You feel your uncle rest his chin on your head. “I’m sorry, little plumcake. There was nothing you could’ve done.”

“I feel b-better now,” you whisper. The door to the bathroom is ajar. You see a figure with brown curls peeking inside. “Better...Janus...he’ll co-come for me...he came b-b-ack, see?” you try to point at the door, but you can’t move your arm. But he’s there and he’s waiting.

“Nellie, plumcake, there’s no one there, you’re ice cold. We need a doctor...”

Your uncle releases you as he scrambles out the bathroom. You vaguely hear him phoning his driver to bring the car around. The figure with brown curls slowly makes its way to you. The last thing you remember is him carting you off the bathroom floor and dashing out the apartment door before blackness takes over your vision.

Hypothermia, the doctor had said when you woke up. Your uncle had rushed you to the hospital around dawn, which meant you had been soaking in that tub for a few hours before he found you. You don’t remember anything after you had gotten in the tub. It wasn’t severe, thankfully, so you were discharged the next day.

You came home to an invitation in the mail from none other than Coriolanus Snow. So, he had returned from his exile in District 12, and according to the card, he will be hosting what would be Sejanus’s nineteenth birthday.

“You’re not going?” Your uncle had inquired with a surprised look.

“No. I think I’ll be busy that day, Uncle.”

“What for?”

You just gave him a small, determined smile.

“I’m getting rid of evidence.”

By the look of recognition your uncle flashes, he understood what you meant, and asked no more questions.

So, on the night of your best friend’s birthday, instead of being at the Plinth house, you’re on the rooftop, lighting a fire inside a large metal tin. You’re crouching on the gravel, vaguely wondering how the party was going.

You feel bad about not calling or visiting Ma Plinth. She had always been nice to you whenever you visited Janus, usually plying both of you so much of her delicious cooking and even making you take home leftovers. It must be extremely painful, losing the only son whom she doted and loved more than anything in the world. But you worry that when she starts talking, she’ll touch on feelings you’re actively trying to suppress. Maybe you could call her one time once you’re ready for such a conversation.

Coriolanus is probably hosting the party out of grief – in the letters, Janus hinted at growing closer to him during their stint in District 12. You watch as the flames in the tin grow and cast a comforting warmth around your form, wondering in amusement whether it was Snow Sejanus really had a crush on. You hope in your heart that Coriolanus had considered him a true friend right at the very end. That way, it’d be more comforting, knowing your dear friend had spent his final moments on earth with a person he trusted with his life.

You had kept all the letters inside a locked wooden box. You didn’t have the heart to burn them immediately after, but Sejanus had written incriminating messages in them. If anyone else were to discover them, you’d be considered a co-conspirator. You’re not worried about yourself, but your uncle...he can’t have you giving him any more trouble as you already have.

You take the letters, one by one, planting a kiss goodbye on each, before tossing them ceremoniously into the makeshift firepit. You watch with a heavy heart as they burst into flames, the smoke rising into the cold night air. You reach the bottom of the box where the tiny notebook lies. You rip each page apart, and those too, are placed on the fire. You continue, until all that’s left of the correspondence between you and Sejanus – the brave, pure soul of a man you could proudly now declare you had fallen in love with – is reduced to a pile of ash. You gather the ash and scatter it on the nearby herb box.

At least you still have that rugged condensed romance novel book, you thought to yourself with a wry chuckle.

Now done with destroying the evidence, you get to your feet with a vow to begin anew.

For him.

Another death devastated the Capitol in the following days. Casca Highbottom, Academy Dean and author of The Hunger Games. Your uncle thought he may have drunk tainted morphling, which he could’ve gotten anywhere. The authorities said it’s too broad of a scope to consider foul play, seeing as he was known as an avid user, he said.

You could’ve gone to the funeral, seeing as the man allowed you to graduate despite your albeit intentional fuckup, but you also knew everyone else would be there: everyone whose faces would remind you of your friend. You’re not sure you’re ready to face them just yet.

Uncle Cas had started preparing for his upcoming classes at Uni, so you volunteered to help exactly seven days before your classes started. The entire day was spent photocopying syllabi for student distribution, getting the computers at the public computer lab ready for use, and organising the private lab. The last one wasn’t an easy feat, what with the room piled to the walls with all the computers he has taken apart, all the drives he has accumulated, and all the books and papers he refuses to get rid of. What your uncle calls organised chaos, you simply call messy hoarding tendencies.

You’re bored out of your mind sorting through last academic year’s essays and test papers when your uncle calls you to his office at the far end of the lab.

You’ve only been inside a handful of times for short periods; otherwise, no one else is allowed. You find him playfully swivelling in his chair and playing with a stress ball, tossing it in the air and catching it.

“How’d you like to be my apprentice?”

He ceases with the chair swivel and throws the stress ball at you, which you move to catch at once. You openly gape at him, unsure if you heard correctly.

Apprenticeships for Uni deans are a big deal in the Capitol’s book.

“Since you’re here all the time being my little helper, no?” He says casually. He turns to the computer behind him and pulls up a program.

“Alright, I’ll sweeten the deal,” he continues. “Be my gamemaker apprentice. That’s better than a dean’s apprentice. You get paid and get exclusive perks, all that jazz.”

You bristle at this. He has never involved you in anything he does at the Citadel, and you’d prefer that it stays that way. Why is he bringing you in now?

Ignoring your perplexed expression, he goes on. “The best perk, in my opinion, is a membership to the White Knights Club. It’s an exclusive members-only restaurant on 3rd Street. The jazz band is okay, but they have the best angel food cake in the city.”

“Why?” you blurt out.

“They put orange extract instead of vani –“

“Not the cake, Uncle, the gamemaker apprenticeship thing,” you interrupt. “Why would you ask me that?”

Your Uncle Cas just beckons you to his computer and points at the currently running program.

On the app seems to be your Uncle’s name, his photo, and his –

“Wait, are those your...”

“Vitals? Yes,” he says proudly.

“...and hormone levels...to gauge emotion...” Your jaw drops open. “This is live?”

“Made possible by wearing this chip –“ he points at the back of his neck – “Which transmits everything in real-time, or at least it’s supposed to.”

“What do you mean?” you ask as you curiously peek at the back of his neck. True enough, there’s a chip about two inches in diameter attached to his skin. “Wait, did you put on this implant yourself? It looks like it hurts...”

“It hurts like a bitch, yes. But you get used to it quickly and it’s removable.”

He fishes a similar chip out of his drawer. He points at the two needle-like protrusions on each side of the square. “These are fitted onto the skin. And this,” he says, pointing at what looks like a microscopic piece of glass, “That’s the transmitter. I’m working on reducing the size of this chip at the moment.”

“Holy shit, Uncle Cas. They’re going to make the tributes wear these?”

He nods.

Your uncle built this entire thing? From a technical standpoint, you’re more than blown away. The program’s function on the other hand...

Before you could even explore more for yourself, he shuts down the program and locks his computer.

“What did you do that for?” you protest. “Moreover, why are you showing me this?”

“Because I haven’t finished it yet. And I need you to help me with the code.”

Oddly enough, you aren’t insulted or angry he would offer you a place among people you don’t ever want to associate with. There is no judgment between you and your Uncle Cas. You’re merely puzzled to your core.

“You’ve never talked about work at the Citadel before, Uncle. Why now?”

“Because you’re an Innis. My blood. The only person alive I can trust with my work.”

You’re touched and filled with pride that your Uncle would entrust you with something he built entirely from the ground up. But you remain unconvinced. This is, after all, an accessory to a vile creation you’d rather see disappear. You keep your eyes on your lap as you think.

“Why did you make this?”

“Because this is what’s within my control, Nellie.”

This makes you glance up at him in surprise.

“I can’t make the Games go away. Just like I can’t leave my work at the Citadel. What I can do, however, is build a tool that can help the mentors keep their tributes alive for as long as they can.”

Your uncle grins at the look of recognition on your face.

“That’s what the vitals are for...and the hormone levels...” you whisper.

“Make them see that there’s a living, breathing human being on the other side of that screen. Be more compelled to protect a person instead of putting on a show. At least that’s the hope.”

So that’s why your uncle wants only you to work on the program. Because in the hands of people like Volumnia Gaul, the program, when modified, promises something deadlier, more inhumane. You shudder inwardly at the possibilities.

“And you have my word I’m not going to make you work at Citadel.”

You inhale slowly, now understanding the responsibility he’s placing on you.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

His shoulders sagging imperceptibly in relief, he walks over to you and ruffles your hair.

“You’re a good kid, plumcake. Thank you.”

For the next six days until the start of the classes, you dangle this over Acacius Innis’ head in exchange for ice cream, much to his tolerant amusement.

And the program? You quietly vow to help put into completion and protect with your life, hoping it will one day protect someone else’s.

***

College then begins. Every class, every book, every face – they’re all new and fresh, save a few former Academy classmates you’d thankfully spot right on time and easily dodge. There was no need to make friends or alliances anymore. For the first time in a long while, you’re having fun learning new concepts and ideas, taking in every bit of knowledge you can get your hands on. Aside from school keeping you busy and distracted, you have your apprenticeship underway, working tirelessly on your uncle’s beloved creation.

Before you know it, it’s the middle of the semester, and save for a few of your uncle’s interns and student assistants, you hardly know anyone even remotely close to your age.

And you don’t know whether to be happy about it or be scared that you’re getting increasingly apathetic to the situation.

Coriolanus Snow is here, instead of at the University attending a lecture he mildly looked forward to, only for appearances’ sake, he assures himself. Go out there, Gaul had told him, make it look like he’s slowly reintegrating into society.

“Date. Party. Indulge. You have a bright future, a good life ahead of you. Make sure they all see it.”

The Capitol loves a good comeback story, and this was his, she had claimed.

In his short lifetime thus far, he’s conned, manipulated, lied, betrayed, and murdered – he’s committed more crimes than most men of his age had ever done, and here he is, waiting for Livia Cardew at a restaurant in this farce of a date he wishes would already end even before it had started.

He might get something out of this whole dating scene in general, he supposes. After all, like any ambitious, upstanding man of the Capitol, he’d have to eventually take a wife. Procreate. Leave behind a legacy the next generation could one day look up to. Ensure the cycle goes on. A marriage projects a desire for stability and fabricates this image of a dutiful and dedicated husband, which could be useful down the line when, not if, he rises to power.

Marriages, however, complicate matters, especially those with emotional attachments involved. Those whose judgement is clouded by emotion are easily manipulated and taken advantage of.

He knows this through first-hand experience. He had not been thinking clearly with his past involvement with Lucy Gray. She became a weakness for him, a blind spot. Lucy Gray used this emotional tie of his in an attempt to throw him off balance. There is no room for that with his objectives in mind.

The maître ‘d approaches his table and relays a message from the woman he’s waiting for: that she will be a little late because her stylist ordered the wrong size dress she initially wanted to wear, but that he has nothing to worry about as it’s all handled and she’s on her way. Coriolanus’s lips curl in displeasure when the maître ‘d walks away.

If he’s going to take a wife, it has to be someone he hates and would never willingly associate with in normal circumstances. That way, this hypothetical wife wouldn’t be used as leverage against him and could never spin his emotions around and use it to bring him down. Someone like Livia Cardew, a woman whose time management skills are non-existent, you can give her today and she’d be early tomorrow.

Late because of a dress. Coriolanus would pinch his eyebrows in annoyance if he wasn’t out in public. She could practically embed her skin with diamonds and rubies and he’d still find someone else with more class by throwing a dart on a map with his eyes closed.

Just the thought of having dinner with her now leaves a bitter taste in his tongue.

Someone less revolting, then, perhaps? Someone less grating and off-putting, someone whose voice and presence he could tolerate? Someone he’s actually come to respect? Someone who made a name for herself, not because of her family name alone nor of her penchant for superficiality and promiscuity, but because of her exceptional intellect and displays of inner backbone?

Reluctant as he is to admit it, there is only one woman in all of Panem who fits that criteria.

You.

You’d certainly take a lot of work, he muses as he stirs his tea, watching as the minuscule sugar granules melt into the amber liquid. He lightly squeezes a lemon wedge into the cup, thinking how he’d have to clamp down on your rebellious tendencies and make you improve your questionable social skills. But, like any high-quality, artisanal tea with many complex flavours, there is balance in you – qualities he can appreciate that make up your multifaceted psyche: your smarts, your impeccable manners, your impressive sense of self-discipline, and that air of refinement about you that most women your age could only hope to achieve. He had felt your wariness around him when you were still classmates back at the Academy, but that didn’t stop you then from being kind to him by often offering your classroom notes and leaving him food with those thoughtful little scribbles.

But perhaps the best one out of all of them? You have had no previous lovers he could contend with (Sejanus didn’t count, he made sure of it). He knows, too, that you wouldn’t care to look for one – not so soon after your friend’s death, not with your preoccupation with your studies, and simply because he knows you wouldn’t. With your chosen field of study, he could make you work for him, perhaps as a Gamemaker, so he could make use of your abilities, and most importantly, so he could keep a close watch on you at all times. Your potential is quickly starting to appeal to him.

He’d mould you into the perfect wife: his future first lady, the perfect embodiment of the Panem woman, completely and utterly his.

Well, close to perfect, given your district roots, but he could make a compromise. After all, there was absolutely nothing in you that screamed district. He supposes he has your Capitol upbringing to thank for that. Maybe your line isn’t even district at all. Maybe the districts can produce the odd one or two capable minds, but an entire clan of geniuses?

He thinks of children. Heirs to the Snow empire. If he were to take you as his wife, the chances of his line producing a superior legacy – children who are competent and are actually worthy of inheriting the name – increase significantly, compared to him taking someone else of less calibre. The genius of the Innises, combined with the ferocity and the resilience of the Snows – he will have children who’ll grow up to be admired and feared and respected in their own right. A fitting continuation of his line, indeed.

He gets to his feet with practised grace, his decision finally made. He abandons his now-tepid tea, leaves a check with a sizeable tip and orders the maitre ‘d to give a message to his late date: something about leaving for a more urgent appointment with someone else more important somewhere else in the city. He doesn’t bother elaborating, nor does he waste any more time waiting for her. He knows there is no point.

While he looks out his car’s window to observe the Capitol’s rapidly changing infrastructure, he vaguely wonders why he’s never considered you a candidate for marriage until now. Maybe because, like everyone in class, he knew even then that you were off-limits. Everyone else thought you were Sejanus’s girl from the start and it was only a matter of time when you both acted on it. The district boy and girl, sharing the same origin story, the same values, and the same hatred for the Games, the two of you against the world. By any standards, you’re considered physically attractive – there were talks among Academy boys about how you were one of the prettiest girls in your year, and many of them would’ve pursued you had you been Capitol-born, if or you didn’t have Sejanus as your shadow, or if you had been more sociable and outgoing. Whatever. At least it’s less work for him, less jilted lovers he would’ve gladly poisoned.

He has to play this smartly, though. With you, he knows there still is a possibility of getting emotionally involved – he does care about you to some extent, after all. If he ever ends up getting more attached than that, all he has to do is use some kind of leverage against you to make you stay in line.

Perhaps he could rope in Strabo Plinth to request an audience with your uncle and cut a deal with him in exchange for your hand. But Acacius Innis? Coriolanus has interacted with him only a handful of times in the Citadel. Apart from his genius, he’s polite and easygoing, with a bit of a sarcastic streak and a huge sweet tooth (the latter two you both seem to share). All of this, a facade for a man with an unyielding set of principles and a hint of ruthlessness. There’s something else in there, too, but even he can admit your Uncle Cas is tough to read. Perhaps he can explore that when he’s found out more.

Your absence at Highbottom’s funeral had been noticeable, and you had left an even gaping hole on the night of Sejanus’ 19th birthday party. You had all but ignored the invitation he sent. He guesses you’re trying to avoid anyone and everyone that reminded you of Sejanus. You could be devastated, perhaps even regretful, that you had not pursued your budding attachments with your friend before he died. Coriolanus had tried to ignore Sejanus’ attempts to be friends then, but even he couldn’t do the same for the former Plinth heir’s soft spot for you. He was always wanting to be around you, worrying about you, stealing fleeting glances in your direction. That’s why he had seen Sejanus’s eventual confession to him of his crush on you coming from a mile away.

And there you were, oblivious to all of it. For someone with razor-sharp intuition, you insist so much on trapping yourself in your imaginary protective little bubble you had failed to see how your friend had his eye on you for a long time. He had to admit: it was amusing in its own right to watch.

And therein lies a lapse in your judgment. It means when it comes to matters involving your little sweetheart – he nearly rolls his eyes at the concept – you’re easily emotionally blindsided. You may not even realise it, but Sejanus is a tiny crack in your normally smooth, perceptive surface. A weakness, dare he say. If that blind spot still exists, he will find a way to exploit it.

In a way, maybe Sejanus deserved you. He was, after all, inherently good (so good he died from it). Sejanus Plinth: born into a life of abundance, handed every privilege his bumbling idiot of a father could afford, never knowing pain, hunger, and suffering until the last moments of his admittedly short life – and somehow, he still would’ve gotten you if he had lived. Life is really fucking unfair that way.

He didn’t care then. Nor did he care then when Sejanus basically gloated to him that he had finally mustered the courage to kiss you right before he left for District 12. But now? The thought of that innocent, stupid little kiss plagues him. Was it quick? A mere peck? Did he catch you by surprise? Did you kiss him back? It doesn’t matter now if you did, he surmises. Coriolanus could give you more of that – so much more – if that’s what it takes to make you get over this affliction. Pretty soon, you’d forget about that kiss, and Sejanus would be nothing more to you than a dead friend, tucked away and reduced to one of many memories of mere teenage naivety and pointless idealism. Just like he is to him.

But – he laughs to himself bitterly and resents himself for even thinking about it – what kind of cruel twist of irony would it be if he had to contend with the ghost of his dead best friend for his future wife’s affections?

Enter Level 3

Author notes:

Please reblog and comment, it's always appreciated!!!

l'll work on putting this on Ao3 when I get the chance. Also, sorry about the missing separators, I'm only allowed to put 10 on a post and this fic is suuuuper long but it didn't feel right if I separate it into 2 chapters 😅😅😅

#dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #young!coriolanus snow #young!coriolanus snow x reader #named!reader #or #x OC2ndPOV #18+ only #dark!coriolanus snow fic #dark!coriolanus #dark!coriolanus fic #dark!fic

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