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javierpena-inatacvest · 4 months

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Chapter 18: Hole in None

Summary: During your bridal shower, Steve takes Javi golfing. When they return, the way Javi is acting has you questioning everything you knew about your relationship.

Word Count: 12.1K (getting back to my roots of a short chapter LMAO)

Warnings: SMUT(18+) unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl pls), oral (f receiving), creampie, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint?), makeup sex and getting caught (The Murphy's will never catch a break) ANGST (I'm so sorry!!), Hurt/comfort, Javi being super insecure, you being confused as hell, Steve being an absolute idiot

A/N: HELLO. IT'S ME! I DO EXSIST! I am genuinely SO sorry that this chapter has taken a million years to happen. December has been so busy and I have had no time to write, so I really, really appreciate all of your patience 🥺 This is a lil different than any other chapter we've had so far in the NTL universe, it's a lil angsty-er than normal but ya girl only believes in happy endings so don't fret!!! Also poorly beta'd bc I have the stomach flu and I am 100% there are mistakes in this chapter that I'm sure I missed 🫠

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“Do I really have to do this? This thing hasn’t even started yet and I’m already exhausted.”

“Yes, Hermosa, I do think that most people do expect the bride to be at her own bridal shower.” Javi laughed, staring into the bathroom mirror as he ran his hands through the dark curls of his hair, fixing them into place as you stood next to him, finishing the rest of your longer than usual makeup routine to prepare for being the center of attention against your will for the next several hours.

It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful that your co-workers wanted to throw you a bridal shower before your wedding, now only a few weeks away- the sentiment of the whole thing was incredibly thoughtful. Your 3rd grade teammates had even found a way to get in touch with your family to make sure that your mom, aunts and cousins felt included in the event, too. You should have been thrilled about the fact that the people who loved you most in the world were coming together to celebrate your upcoming wedding and quite literally showering you with gifts, but if there was one thing you hated more than anything else, it was the social exhaustion that came from having a party planned for no one but you.

You had really tried to convince Maria, Estelle, Linda, and now, your mom that you didn’t need a bridal shower- your wedding was going to be small, and since you had already been living on your own, there weren’t a lot of things you needed as you started married life together. Unfortunately, neither of those arguments were going to stop those ladies from going all out for you, leaving you feeling like your bridal shower was turning out to be even bigger than your actual wedding.

“Don’t you think I could just get a cardboard cutout of myself and use that instead? All these ladies love to talk so much that I don’t think they would even know the difference.” You sighed, giving yourself a once over in the mirror before putting away the rest of your makeup as Javi snuck behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, planting a soft kiss into your shoulder as he pressed his chest against your back.

“I have a feeling that someone would notice.” Javi chuckled, a soft grin spreading across his face as your eyes met in the mirror, his smile and sweet eyes enough to calm your nerves for at least a moment. “I would definitely notice.”

“Well that’s easy for you to say, you don’t even have to be there.” You huffed, letting a little pout fall from your lips as Javi playfully shook you in his grasp, trying your best not to smile as you tried to keep up your unenthused facade. “It’s not too late to trade. You can go to the bridal shower and I can go golfing with you and Steve.”

Even though Javi had insisted he was more than happy to stay at the shower with you, Maria had insisted that Javi find another way to spend his time so the spotlight of the day could be on you, and not him being distractingly handsome to everyone else there. Lucky for Javi, that meant extra time to spend with Steve while Connie was at your shower- not so lucky for you that Maria had banished your future husband from attending an event for your own wedding.

“I honestly may have to take you up on that. Steve must have needed an ego boost when I let him pick what he wanted to do while you and Connie were at the shower because he knows I can’t golf for shit.” Javi’s overdramatic sigh and roll of his eyes was enough to make you break into a little giggle, turning your head enough to press a quick kiss onto his cheek before reaching your hand under his chin, giving his jaw a little jiggle. “It’ll go by fast, Osita, I promise. And then, when we get home,” he paused, pressing another kiss into your shoulder and up towards your neck, digging his fingers a little tighter into your sides as he rasped into your ear, “I’ll take as much time as you want to destress you.”

“As much time as I want? Bold of you to assume that the dog is gonna give us that long.” You snickered as a happy Bear trotted into your bathroom right on cue, his tail loudly thumping against the bathroom cabinets from his happy wags as he wedged himself between you and Javi.

The newest furry member of your household had been a well loved addition, but if there was one thing Bear had no concept of, it was privacy. Your dog had become a constant shadow to you and Javi anywhere and everywhere in your house, including your in your bedroom, even when you were, well, not sleeping. It hadn’t helped that Javi had already formed such a soft spot for Bear, and had let him on your bed from the moment he stepped foot into the apartment, and now, your dog and his clingy personality had become a new obstacle to try and navigate in your sex life.

“Someone needs to tell his dad that he’ll survive if he gets left out of the bedroom for a half hour, huh? That he’s adorable, but that he can be a little cockblock, can’t he?” Squatting down next to Bear, you wrapped your hands around his face, scratching behind his ears as you mockingly serenaded him, raising an eyebrow at Javi.

“He just sounds so sad when he whines and he’s trapped outside the door.” Javi grumbled, kneeling down to join you, patting Bear’s stomach, now much thicker and fuller than it was a few weeks ago after you had first brought him home, skinny and neglected from his lack of care from his previous owners.

“You say trapped like we're kicking him out to the streets when we close the door on him. He’s adorable and sweet, but he’s a dog, Jav, he’ll be okay.” You smirked, playfully scolding Javi as you peppered Bear’s head with kisses, making his tail thump even harder as it wagged back and forth. “Tell your dad you’ll be just fine, won’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Javi groaned, knowing damn well you were right, even though he couldn’t bring himself to admit he had become an absolute softie for your new dog. “Alright, Hermosa, we gotta get you to this shower before Maria yells at me for making you late.” Pushing his hands against his knees, Javi let out a little grunt as he pushed himself back up to stand, checking the time on the silver watch wrapped around his wrist.

“Wow, so eager to get rid of me, you must really be excited to go get your ass kicked in golf.” You teased, now following suit and straightening out your dress as you stood, throwing your arms around Javi’s neck, pressing up on your tiptoes to plant a little kiss on his lips. “Sure you don’t want me to golf for you?”

“I’m sure, you dork.”

After Javi had insisted on giving Bear more than his fair share of treats before the two of you left for the day, you were on the road to Maria’s, Javi insisting that he drop you off, instead of letting you take the treacherous 2 minute drive by yourself. As you drove down Maria’s street, you couldn’t help but smile at the memory of walking up to her house for an end of the school year party almost exactly a year ago. A party that had ultimately turned a handsome stranger from the Laredo Sheriff's department into your future husband, now sitting in the driver’s seat on the way to your bridal shower. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself at the irony, leaning your head over onto Javi’s broad shoulder as you pulled up to Maria’s house.

“What’s up, Osita?” Javi asked, a twinge of confusion in his voice at the content and calm of your demeanor as the two of you arrived at the event that you had been seemingly dreading for days.

“I just- It was probably a year ago to the day the last time that we were at Maria’s house. Crazy to think that a year later we’re getting married and here for my bridal shower. I don’t know, a year ago I never would have thought I would have met someone I love so much, let alone be getting married, building a house, owning a dog, I- I’m just really happy that the department made you come to do that stupid presentation. You’ve made this year the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you, Jav.”

A tender silence hung in the air as Javi leaned over the center console, gently bringing his palm to cup the side of your face, his thumb tracing circles along your cheek, letting his sweet brown eyes lock with yours as a soft smile spread across his face. “I love you too, Osita.” His words barely left his mouth above a whisper, bringing his lips to yours. The two of you could have stayed like this forever, lost in the moment of your love for each other, but unfortunately, the world had other plans.

“JAVIER. DIOS MIO. CAN YOU KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF OF HER FOR 3 SECONDS?” Maria shouted, banging at the driver’s side window, the aggressive thumps of her hand against the glass making the two of you practically jump out of your skin.

“Jesus Fucking Christ….” Javi whispered, clutching his hand over his chest, trying to steady his heart rate back to normal, the two of you looking at each other in pure terror.

“If you’re going to drop her off and make a scene in my driveway, the least you can do is help an old woman out before you leave, Javier!” Maria demanded, still rapping her knuckles against the glass, the two of you trying to keep from dying of embarrassment as you exited out of the car.

“Sorry Maria…” The two of you grimaced, still trying to avoid direct eye contact with her before she decided to scold you more.

“Chucho is right, you two are no worse than a pair of teenagers. Come on, we only have an hour before everyone arrives and I need you and that wildly blonde haired boy to help me move chairs.” Shaking her head in disappointment, Maria was already halfway up the driveway and into the house as you and Javi trailed behind her, glancing at each other in confusion as to who she was referring to, until you noticed the Murphy’s car parked on the side of the street, realizing that Steve and Connie must have beaten you there.

Before you even had a chance to make it a foot into the house, you were greeted by an overbearing swarm of people rushing to say hello and give you a hug, already feeling overwhelmed 30 seconds into the start of your shower, and these were all people you knew. Your mom was the first to make her way through the crowd, squeezing you in a death grip hug, even though you had just seen her last night after picking her up from the airport and dropping her off at her hotel.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe the day is almost here! My baby girl is finally getting married! Ugh, you look beautiful sweetheart!” Your mom beamed, planting a chaste kiss on your cheek before making her way over to Javi, squeezing him just as hard. “C’mere, don’t think that you get to escape hugs from me too, Javi.” Javi looked over at you, trying his best not to laugh at everyone’s dramatics, knowing how stressed you already were, and that no one’s overly excited attitude was doing you any favors.

“Ouch on the finally there, Mom. What do you need help with?” You asked, noticing that your mom had been holding on to Javi for a touch longer than what was probably appropriate while everyone else continued to hustle and bustle around Maria’s house.

“Does he always smell that good? God, I wished your father smelled like that, the man smells like a sweaty sock. Javi, what kind of cologne do you-”

“Mom! Jesus Christ.” You interjected, burying your hands in your face.

“Sorry, sorry! Honey, you don’t need to help with anything, it’s your shower!” Your mom swatted her hand at you, shaking her head in disbelief that you would ask to help, even though she knew better than anyone it was not in your nature to sit back on the sidelines and let other people do the work for you.

“Why don’t you come help me set up decorations?” A soft voice replied behind you, making you whip your head around as their hand rested on your shoulder.

“Connie!” You grinned, throwing her arms around her, relieved to find someone who wasn’t going to drive you absolutely crazy for the next hour of party prep. “It’s so good to see you, thank you so much for coming!”

“Hey, Sweetheart!” a lower voice grunted from behind a stack of folding chairs making its way to the backyard.

“Wow, Maria put you to work too, Steve? Yikes, she’s running a tight ship around here.” You and Connie snickered as Steve set down his stack of chairs, revealing his already sweaty and frustrated face, considering Maria had probably made him carry 6 trips worth of seats up and down the stairs since he and Connie had arrived.

“You’re tellin’ me. Hey, make yourself useful and pick up some of these chairs, lazy ass. Sooner we get this set up, the sooner I kick your butt at golf.” Steve smirked, gesturing over at Javi, still standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips.

“In that case, I’m taking one chair at a time.” Javi sighed, pressing a quick kiss to your temple in stride towards Steve, giving him a swift hug and a pat on the back before being interrupted by a shrill and demanding voice.

“JAVIER. I HEARD THAT. IF I DON’T SEE YOU WITH A STACK OF CHAIRS IN YOUR HANDS THE NEXT TIME YOU’RE OUTSIDE, IT’D BETTER BE BECAUSE YOU ARE DEAD.” Maria shouted from across the house, making everyone’s faces freeze in fear.

“You heard the woman. Chop, chop, Peña.” Steve chuckled to himself before passing off half of the chairs over to Javi, and walking towards the back of the house as Javi picked up his share, begrudgingly trailing behind Steve.

“Alright, we should probably get to work on decorations before Maria finds us standing around for too long. I know you’re the bride, but I have a feeling that holds very little value to her until everything is set up.” Connie shrugged, nodding towards the backyard where the shower was being held.

“You’re definitely right, and I would prefer to live through my bridal shower in order to make it to my actual wedding.”

With all of the helping hands around the house, and Maria’s commanding dictatorship over shower setup, all of you had finished with time to spare, leaving your mom and co-workers to happily chat and gossip amongst themselves as you and Connie found your way to say goodbye to Steve and Javi, one of whom was looking much more excited about departing for golf than the other.

“Have fun, ladies. Any last words for your future husband before I absolutely obliterate him on the golf course?” Steve snickered, giving Javi a soft punch on the shoulder.

“Shut the fuck up, Murph.” Javi groaned, rolling his eyes as he braced himself for the next 3 hours of harassment from his former partner.

“Don’t be too hard on him, okay Steve? He gets grumpy when he loses, so just a reasonable amount of ass whooping, nothing too drastic.” You teased, now playfully punching on the other side of his arm, you, Steve, and Connie laughing to yourselves at Javi’s fed up frown.

“Says the one who literally pouted for hours after insisting we play "Sorry" and then she lost.” Javi smugly murmured, raising an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well someone wasn’t very sorry about it, were they… You know what, Steve? I changed my mind, go ahead and kick his ass for me.” A mischievous grin grew across your face, bursting out into giggles as Javi flung his arms around you, giving you a squeeze and shaking you in his grasp.

“Pendejo. Alright, you need anything else before I go get my ass kicked, Hermosa?” Javi asked, pressing a kiss into your hair. You were about to speak, but stopped yourself for a moment, looking Javi up and down, admiring how handsome he looked in the khakis and navy blue polo he had picked out this morning. You’d been so worried and worked up about the day that you hadn’t really had a chance to get a good look at him until now, and God, part of you wished you hadn’t taken the time to really take it all in as he stood next to you. You knew there was nothing you could really do about it now, but that wasn’t about to stop you from at least getting a little taste.

“Uh yeah, I uh- actually um, I uh, I scraped my finger earlier on one of the banners I was setting up and I think I got a papercut. I forgot to ask Maria about it earlier, but um, can you show me where the bandaids are upstairs again?” You tried your best to sound as casual as possible, but Javi knew just as well as you that there was no way in hell that you actually needed a bandaid. His brow scrunched in a slight confusion, head cocked to the side as if to say “I think I know where this is going and I’m not really sure it’s going to work” before giving you a little shrug, gesturing up towards the bathroom at the top of the stairwell, trying to keep his smug grin hidden between his lips.

“Yeah, I uh- here, let me show you where they are and I can get you one before we go.” Before Steve or Connie could even muster a word in protest, Javi was already dragging you halfway up the stairs, barely letting you make it to the top of the stairway before closing the bathroom door behind you.

“Band Aid, really? That was the best you could come up with?” Javi laughed under his breath, letting his hands roam down your sides and under the hem of your dress as his fingers dug into the meat of your ass, the heat of his breath tickling your skin where his lips met your neck, gently sucking at your pulse point, making a tiny moan escape from your mouth.

“I needed to come up with something to get you alone for long enough to give you a proper goodbye before you left.”

“And a Band Aid was the way to do that?”

“Oh shut up.” You giggled, draping your arms over Javi’s neck, letting your hands roam through the curls at the nape of his neck before pulling him in tighter to let his lips crash into yours with an electric intensity, his fingertips gripping deeper into your flesh.

“I don’t think-” Javi muttered between kisses, “I don’t think a bandaid is gonna buy us enough time to do anything, Hermosa.”

“I know. I just needed this. Just needed to kiss your stupidly handsome face. I needed something before you left me to fend for myself. Plus,” you paused, pulling back to see the lovestruck grin spread between Javi’s cheeks, “only fair that I get a chance to recreate our first kiss.” You snickered, gesturing to the interior of Maria’s bathroom, where you had found yourself with Javi almost a year ago to the day, your lips meeting for the first time as you sat on the ledge of the sink after Javi had came to your aid when a shattered beer bottle had landed in your leg.

“Fuck, I forgot our first kiss was in Maria’s bathroom. Real fucking smooth of me, huh?” Javi grumbled, rolling his eyes at his past self for letting your first kiss be in the bathroom of his Mom’s best friend’s house.

“Smooth enough for me to wanna marry you, so I guess it all worked out okay, didn’t it?” You teased, planting one last kiss on his lips before shooting him a wink and slipping out the bathroom, your face warm and tingly from the rush of excitement tucked away with Javi in your impromptu makeout session. Javi ran his hand over his face, taking a moment to try and compose himself, shaking his head to himself in shock and delight at how he found himself falling more and more in love with you every day.

“Okay, uh- sorry, sorry about that. Just didn’t wanna have to bother Maria for anything.” You sighed, darting your eyes away from Steve and Connie, their arms crossed against their chest with almost comically smug smirks on their faces as they watched you shuffle back down the stairs, Javi reluctantly trailing behind you.

“Yeah? How’d that bandaid work out for ya?” Steve smiled with a shit eating grin, nodding to your hands, neither of them with a bandaid anywhere in sight. You let out a gulp, trying to quickly tuck your hands behind your back, your cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment. “Goddamn, you two gonna make it 3 hours without touching each other, or am I gonna have to bring him back here after hole 4 for a mid-round makeout?”

“Jesus Christ, Murph, really?.” Javi grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Bye, love you. Have fun and I’ll see you soon.” Leaned over, snaking his arm around your waist to plant one last kiss in your hair.

“Not soon enough, apparently…”

“Murphy…”

“Stop makin’ out and I’ll stop givin’ you shit.”

“Touche…” You muttered under your breath, just loud enough to make the 4 of you burst into laughter, easing the uncomfortable tension that you had brought upon yourself from your antics. “Love you too, have fun getting your ass kicked.”

“Yes, yes, out, out, out! It’s only 10 minutes until guests arrive and your truck is taking up all the room in the driveway! Out!” Stampeding into the living room, Maria waved her hands at the boys, quite literally shooing them out of the house after overhearing your goodbyes. Giving a quick wave to Javi as Maria kicked him and Steve to the curb, you caught Javi’s head whipping around for one last glance at you before you left, giving you a once over with his eyes and a soft smile on his face as the front door shut behind him.

Truth be told, your shower ended up being way less painful than you expected it would be. In all honesty, it was actually somewhat enjoyable. The fact that your mom, co-workers, and Connie had put into helping everyone come together to celebrate you filled your heart with so much more joy than you could have predicted- your friends and family had bought you and Javi so many more gifts than you knew what to do with, had so many kind things to say about the two of you, and Connie had even gone out of her way to make sure that there were fun games planned for everyone to keep the need for constant socialization at bay. It really had ended up being a fun afternoon, even if it meant having to answer the same questions about your wedding, house and honeymoon plans more times than you could count.

Javi, on the other hand, could not have been having a worse time on the golf course, getting his ass thoroughly handed to him by Steve hole after hole, wondering to himself how anyone could bring themself to genuinely enjoy the torture that had been the past two and a half hours of hacking his club into chunks of grass and loosing his golf balls in the brush. The only consoling factor was that Javi was grateful to spend time with Steve, even if it meant being berated by endless questions from him on top of his painful performance while he played.

“You feelin’ ready for the big day?” Steve grunted, after smacking his driver against his ball from the tee box, Javi relieved that the pair were finally on the 9th and final hole.

“Yeah, I mean- Oh fuck me-” Javi grumbled, hitting his club and watching his ball fly into a patch of trees, the opposite direction of where he was trying to aim for, “I still can’t believe I’m getting married.”

“You and me both, Jav. I never thought I’d live to see the fuckin’ day, that’s for damn sure. Javier Peña, a married man.” Steve chuckled, slipping his club into his golf bag as Javi followed behind, grabbing what must have been the 57th golf ball from his bag this round.

“Shut the fuck up, Murph.” Javi chuckled, shaking his head at his friends’ jab, the two of them hopping into the golf cart together to try and scavenge for Javi’s long lost ball.

“I’m just given’ you shit, Jav. I’m fuckin’ happy for you man. Really happy. She’s a great girl. Best thing that’s ever happened to your sorry ass, I’ll tell you that much. Guess you don’t have to worry about really followin’ through this time?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re actually gonna get married this time? You’re not leavin’ her at the altar like Lorraine, huh?” As Steve laughed to himself, Javi could practically feel his stomach drop, his heart beginning to race as a wave of terrible guilt and panic washed over him at his friend’s ironic question.

To his own shock and surprise, Javi hadn’t thought about his last lack of a wedding once since the two of you had gotten engaged. He had been so head over heels excited to spend the rest of his life with you, that the failures of his past engagement had been tucked far away in the back of his mind. But then again, no one had been so gracious as to bring up the knife to the chest that was leaving Lorraine at the altar, and no one had been so gracious as to bring it up in classic Steve Murphy fashion.

Javi could audibly hear himself gulp, his heartbeat pounding so loud he could hear it ringing in his ears as the terrible reality of the past he had so glady forgotten about met him in a head on collision, instantly re-opening all of the cuts and wounds he had finally managed to sew together.

The last time he almost got married, Javier Peña had astronomically fucked up the lives of every last person who cared about him, leaving nothing but chaos and heartbreak in his wake.

Rationally, Javi could tell himself that his upcoming wedding was the polar opposite of everything that was once planned between him and Lorraine. Javi couldn’t have cared less about Lorraine. From the moment he had wearily accepted his fate, he had dreaded every moment of his future from that point on. But you were not Lorraine.

Javi loved you.

Javi cared about you.

Javi wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with you and give you everything in the world you could possibly want.

But, one mention of that 8 letter name had Javi’s brain flooding with every single doubt, regret, and painful memory of his past that he had fought so hard to forget. It had his mind reeling with every uncomfortable feeling of remembering the man he had been before you had come into his life and changed him for the better. He knew he was a better man. A stronger man. A man who was worthy of the love and compassion you had shown him from the moment you two had met.

Or was he?

“Earth to Javi? Hello? Anyone home?” Waving his hand in front of Javi’s face, Steve stared at Javi in confusion as to why it seemed like his friend had suddenly become lost in his own world as they pulled up to the patch of trees where his ball had most likely landed.

“Uh yeah, uh- what, sorry, um, what did you say?” Javi asked, visibly trying to shake the thoughts from his head, painfully scrunching his face and running his hand through his hair before looking back over at Steve.

“I asked if you were gonna go get the ball or if you just wanted to add to your +200 score and drop one here instead. Hey, you okay, man?” Steve questioned, pausing for a moment before asking the later half of his statement, seeing the color flushed from Javi’s face.

“Uh, yeah- Yeah, sorry, I just, I’m good. I’ll um, I’ll just drop a ball.” Javi muttered half to himself as he stepped out of the cart, barely paying attention enough to even remember what in the world he was even looking for in his golf bag.

If Javi wasn’t already thankful to be on the last hole before Steve’s comment, he sure as hell was now, mindlessly whacking his golf club with no regard as to how his ball made it to the green. Any thoughts about golf, let alone any previous attempts to even try to play well had now flown out the window, creeping thoughts of self doubt and resentment crawling through Javi’s mind. The rest of the round and the entire car ride back to Maria’s were spent in an internal battle ranging in Javi’s brain, the fight between the man he used to be and the man he’d thought he’d become rearing its ugly head with a painful intensity that absolutely felt like it was consuming him whole.

Steve, who was just as oblivious to his friend’s distraught state as he was to the idiocracy of his sarcastic question, had chalked Javi’s quiet and somber mood up to being an overly sore loser after getting mercilessly crushed at golf. Little did he know that his one silly comment had sent Javi spiraling down a trail of crushing self-doubt.

As the pair pulled into the driveway and made their way to the backyard where a few straggling party goers still lingered, trying to monopolize their time with you to get the details of your upcoming plans for the future. Being the attentive and patient person that you were, you were trying your hardest to seem enthused and engaged with in the conversation with who you thought was Javi’s Aunt’s Cousin (at this point, you had been introduced to so many new people, you were questioning your own name), but it wasn’t long before your future husband’s big, broad body entering the backyard had you more than distracted, your face instantly lighting up at the sight of him. Peeking over his Aunt’s cousin (or cousin’s aunt, you weren’t really sure) shoulder, you bit down on your lip to try and contain your excitement, letting a little wave shake from your hand in his direction.

Javi wished that your sweet smile and beautiful self were enough to snap him out of his funk, to see how you beamed in excitement just at the sight of him and shot him that lovestruck look he’d never get sick of- but for some twisted reason, it only made him feel worse.

You were everything- kind, smart, funny, the most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen. But what was he? Tired? Broken? A shitty guy who had done even shitter things, who had left nothing but destruction in his path for years and years, with no regard for who it hurt, or even worse, left for dead? How was he supposed to give you everything you deserved when he sure as fuck didn’t deserve you?

Before you had even said a word to him, you could already sense something was off about Javi’s demeanor that was due to more than just losing to Steve in golf. Even from across the backyard, his forced smile and tired brown eyes had a worried pit swirling in the bottom of your stomach, politely excusing yourself from your conversation to make your way over to Javi.

“Hi! You guys have fun at golf? Steve didn’t kick your ass too bad?” You grinned, wrapping your arms around Javi’s waist, pressing up on your toes to plant a kiss on his lips, his mouth barely ghosting over yours in return.

“Yeah, it was um- yeah, it was fine.” Javi nodded, trying to make a smile appear between his pursed lips. “How was the shower? You uh, you ready for Steve and I to start putting things in the truck to bring over to the new house?”

You immediately frowned in response, cocking your head in confusion at him. “Yeah, it was great, but hey, are- are you okay? You seem really off, like more than just Steve kicking your ass at golf off. Did something happen?”

“No, I’m- yeah, I’m good, Hermosa.” Javi’s eyes darted towards the ground, trying his best to stifle his sigh before another fake smile spread across his face, his response making you even more concerned than you were before, seeing he was clearly lying to you. As much as you wanted to problem solve right then and there to figure out what had Javi so distressed, the calls of one of the last groups of party goers wanting to say their goodbyes rang across the backyard, you flashing them a quick smile and a wave to signal you’d be over in a second. Before you could try and get anything else out of Javi, he had already backed himself away from your hands still tangled around his waist, nodding towards the group of women who were not so patiently waiting for you. “Go say goodbye, I’ll start loading stuff up.”

“Um, I- uh, yeah, o-okay. Thanks.” You murmured, half to yourself, as Javi had already begun to walk away to find Steve to help him start carrying things out to the car, leaving you more anxious and confused with every passing second.

With goodbyes finished, and decor and party setup cleaned up just as fast as Maria had demanded it to be put up, you and Javi made your way to your now packed car, followed by Connie and Steve, who had asked to see the progress on your new house while they were in town. You figured you’d kill two birds with one stone, inviting them over and having them help to unload gifts in the same trip, but now, given the strangely somber mood that Javi couldn’t seem to shake, you really wished it was just the two of you so you could figure out what the hell was going on.

You and Javi piled into his truck, Steve and Connie hopping into theirs and following you down Maria’s street towards your new house. A stark silence filled the car, praying to yourself that maybe Javi just wanted to be alone before he said anything about his current state, but 5 minutes down the road without a single word falling from his lips, you had a devastating feeling that wasn’t going to be the case.

Your leg bounced against the seat, fingers nervously drumming in your lap, letting out a quiet sigh to yourself before looking over at Javi and mustering up the courage to try and interrogate.

“Sooooo, golf was fun? I love ya, but I think it’s probably safe to assume Steve won?” You quietly snickered, trying your best to stay nonchalant.

“Yeah, it was good, Steve won, but that’s no surprise because I suck at golf.” Javi mumbled to himself, barely glancing your direction from behind the yellow tinted aviators perched on the bridge of his nose. Normally, if either of you had something that self-deprecating to say, it was at least followed by some sort of a joke or laugh, but his comment ended with nothing but a stoic silence as his hands gripped tighter around the steering wheel.

“Hey, babe, it’s okay, you don’t ever golf, so it’s hard to expect yourself to be good at something you rarely ever do.” You reached over to grab his arm to reassure him, that unsettling and anxious pit beginning to grow in your stomach again with the way Javi was acting. All he could muster was a half hearted huff in response, signaling to you that whatever was happening was much bigger than a poor game of golf.

“Javi… Baby, what’s going on? Did something happen with Steve?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s clearly not nothing, Jav. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I told you, it’s fine.”

“Javi, it obviously isn’t fine if this is the way you’re acting about it. Why won’t you talk to me about it? I just wanna-”

“I told you, it’s fine, okay!? Jesus, I don’t need you to solve all my problems.”

Oh.

You and Javi had been in arguments before, hell, you’d been in fights before, but never once in the time that you’d known him, had Javi snapped at you like this. You could practically feel yourself recoiling in your seat from the harsh tone of his voice, fighting back the tears that had instantly begun welling in your eyes. You could feel your heart in your throat, choking down a heavy gulp as your lip quivered to try and keep from crying.

What had gone so wrong that Javi was acting like this?

You wish you had it in you to dig it out of him, but as you pulled up the driveway of your new home, Steve and Connie right behind you, ready for a tour, the best you could muster was a quiet, “O-okay.” As soon as the car was in park, Javi was unbuckling his seatbelt and slamming the door behind him, leaving you behind in the car, trying everything in your power to not become a startled, sobbing mess.

Wiping away the wetness pooling behind your eyelids, you swiped the back of your hand against your cheeks, taking a few deep breaths before following behind, mustering up as much courage as you could to keep your cool for however long Steve and Connie were planning to stick around before heading back to San Antonio.

You had hoped that Steve and Connie hadn't picked up on the palpable tension brewing between you and Javi, trying your best to put on a brave face as you paraded the Murphy’s through your nearly completed house. To be quite honest, you couldn’t have recalled anything that had happened in the time that they were there, your mind racing in torment as you watched Javi brood around your new home, barely saying a word to you, let alone make any eye contact, or look in your general direction.

As the four of you made your way upstairs, your attention was finally caught by the low lull of Steve’s laughter as he situated himself between you and Javi, grabbing you both by the shoulders and shaking you in his grasp.

“Well I’ll be damned. Y’all got enough rooms up here to house half a baseball team! You want that many kids driving ya nuts, huh?” Steve chuckled, making his way down the hallway, peeking into the empty bedrooms of your 2nd story.

“Steve!” Connie scolded, slapping the back of her hand against Steve’s stomach for his comment.

“What?! I’m just sayin’! I thought y’all would want like, 2, but there’s enough room for way more than that. I mean, I guess you two are fuckin’ goin’ at it like rabbits all the time, so I can’t really be shocked.”

“Steven Edward Murphy! Jesus Christ!” Connie snapped, shooting Steve a dangerous glare, aggressively raising an eyebrow at her husband as she gestured towards you and Javi.

“No, it’s okay, we don’t know for sure how many we want, but we figured if we had the space we’d add the rooms and even if they’re not bedrooms, they’ll still get used.” You had it in you enough to force a half smile across your face, flashing it at Steve and Connie before looking over at Javi.

While you hadn’t expected much of a response from him given the current situation, what you weren’t expecting was the panic stricken look painting Javi from head to toe.

If you weren’t already worried out of your mind about what the fuck was going on with Javi, you sure as fuck were now.

“Uh, I um- yeah.”

Those were the only words Javi was able to choke out through the audible thumps pounding in his chest as his face went ghost white, eyes peeled to the ground.

“See, Steve? You’re making them uncomfortable! You have absolutely no filter, I swear! I’m so sorry, you guys!” Connie frantically apologized, giving Steve another hardy slap in the stomach, making him wince.

“I’m just jokin’, Jesus Christ, sorry!” Steve grumbled, holding up his hands in defense from his wife’s accusation, sheepishly looking over at you and Javi with a little shrug.

“No, it’s uh- no, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You had given up on trying to be convincing at this point, your voice quietly shaking as you stared at Javi, now looking like a terrified, ragged shell of himself.

What the fuck was going on? Did Javi want to wait to have kids? Did he not want to have that many? Was he having second thoughts about kids all together? Fuck, was he having second thoughts about getting married? He’s literally never acted like this before. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You were sure at this point, you probably looked just as much of a mess as Javi did, letting your thoughts race wildly throughout your brain, the silence now lingering between the four of you now seemed to feel deafening, Connie beginning to pick up on the uneasiness festering between you and Javi and knowing she had enough common sense for her and Steve to pick up her cue to see herself out.

“Well, still, I’m sorry. We should probably get going anyways, we told the sitter we’d be back around 6 so we should probably hit the road. Thank you so much for the tour! The shower was beautiful and I’m so glad I could be there for it. We’ll see you guys for the big day soon! Just let me know if you need any help with wedding stuff between now and then okay?”

“Uh yeah, yeah of course. Thanks for all your help, Con. I’ll um- I’ll let you know if we need anything.” You stammered as Connie pulled you in for a hug goodbye, followed quickly by Steve, who planted a few pats on your back mid hug.

“Bye sweetheart, thanks for letting me steal this asshole for golf today. See y’all when you’re gettin’ ready to get hitched! Adios, loser.” Steve chuckled as he pulled away from your hug to tug Javi into another, giving him an even harder pat on the back before letting Connie say her goodbyes as well.

“Do you want me to walk you guys down to your-”

“Nah, we’ll find our way out, no worries. Bye lovebirds, see ya soon.” Steve grinned, giving the both of you one last wave farewell before disappearing down the stairs, their hushed bickers about Steve’s unnecessary comments quietly trailing behind them. Before you could even get a word out to Javi now that the two of you were alone, he was already halfway down the stairs behind the Murphy’s, not even bothering to look back at you as he mumbled under his breath.

“I’m gonna get the gifts out of the car and go sit outside.”

“Jav, wait, I-”

You could feel the lump beginning to swell in your throat, your bottom lip trembling with tears welling in your eyes as you watched Javi storm down the stairs without even so much as an attempt to care about what you had to say, leaving you with nothing but yourself and 5 empty bedrooms that now had you questioning everything you thought you knew about your future with Javi. You felt your body begin to collapse like a sad pile of jello as you melted into a sobbing puddle on the floor, bringing your knees to your chest as you cried into the flowy fabric of your dress, leaving wet stains behind from your tears. Your breaths were rapid and shaky with each muffled sob, trying to rationally grasp on to something, anything, as to why Javi was acting this way. But the more the gears frantically turned in your brain, the more irrational and terrifying your thoughts became.

This all happened so fucking fast. It’s only been a year since I’ve known him. Is he realizing it’s too much? Am I too much? This was all too fucking good to be true, wasn’t it, you fucking idiot.

Taking a few more minutes to collect yourself enough to at least stop full on sobbing, you wiped your wet cheeks with the back of your palm, inhaling a trembling deep breath as you mustered up every ounce of courage you could find to face whatever fate was waiting for you downstairs with Javi.

Each step down the stairs felt heavier than the last, leaving your fingers anxiously drumming against your legs as you saw Javi’s broad body hunched over the side of the unfinished back patio, staring out to the tall grass of your backyard swaying in the warm summer breeze. If it were any other time, you would have rushed up behind him, wrapping your body around his back and attacking him with kisses until the two of you were wound up in a fit of laughter and giggles, happily tangled in each other's bodies.

Right now, you were terrified to even step too close to him.

Carefully and quietly sliding open the glass door to the porch, you prayed with every bone in your body you weren’t going to do anything that set Javi off enough to even let you attempt to have a conversation with him about what was going on. The new wood softly creaked under your shoes, making Javi turn his head just enough to acknowledge your presence as you wearily approached him. Taking one more deep breath, you opened your mouth to speak, but with your jaw hanging open, Javi’s words filled the stark silence before yours could.

“I don’t know if we should get married.”

Fuck.

You could practically feel your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach, like the weight of 1,000 bricks had been dropped on your body all at once, hearing that come out of his mouth. You could have mentally tried to brace yourself for a lot of things, but hearing Javi tell you he didn't want to get married anymore sure as hell wasn't one of them.

“Javi, I- baby, what- I don’t- I don’t-”

“Why the fuck do you even wanna marry me?”

Your brows scrunched in pain and confusion at the sharp tone of his words, desperate to try and understand what point he was trying to prove in this gut wrenching game he seemed to be playing.

“Because I- Javi, I- Javi I love you, that’s why.” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you sat down next to him on the edge of the porch, leaning over enough to see the tears glistening down his cheeks, his eyes red and puffy as he tried to stifle the sobs rumbling in his chest. He shook his head back and forth before his gaze fell into his lap.

“You shouldn’t love me.”

“Javi… what the fuck are you talking about?” you plead, feeling the pain and hurt creeping through your body as you watched the tears he was so desperately trying to fight. With a scornful scoff, Javi shook his head, pressing against his knees to stand, taking a few paces around the porch, burying his hands in his face, his words muffled and muted by his palms covering his mouth.

“What the fuck am I- I’m not- I’m not what you deserve. I don’t understand how you don’t fucking see that.”

You followed suit, bringing yourself to stand with your arms crossed tightly across your chest, staring at Javi in bewilderment, biting down on your tongue so hard to keep from bursting into tears you thought you were going to make it bleed. You could feel the storm of pain, anger and confusion brewing deep in the pit of your stomach, your body numb and mind blank.

“Javier. What the fuck is going on? I don’t understand why-”

“Because last time I was gonna get married I fucked up everything. For everyone. I hurt everyone I cared about. I went half way around the world and I spent a decade fucking things up even more. How do you know I’m not gonna fuck everything up again? I love you too much to let it happen to you. The thought of ever hurting you even half as I much as I’ve hurt anyone else because of my choices fucking kills me. I can’t do it. I can’t hurt you like I’ve hurt everyone else. I’d never fucking forgive myself. I love you more than anything, Osita. I love you more than anything in the world. You deserve someone who isn’t going to hurt you. Someone who will do right by you, by your family, your future children, I just- fuck- I don’t think that person can be me.”

A deafening silence hung in the air as you stared blankly at Javi, tears streaming from his tormented brown eyes, his body trembling with devastation and regret. You had no doubt your body mirrored his as the guilt and heartbreak flooded you from head to toe, wondering how in the world you had ever let the man you loved and cared about more than anything feel like he wasn’t enough for you.

You wished you could speak- to find the words to tell him that he was your everything, the glue that had put you back together when you were convinced there was nothing else that could mend the broken mess that you had become. You wished you could express to him that there was no one on the face of this earth that you would rather spend the rest of your life with than him- that there was no one else you wanted by your side through every moment of your life, the good, the bad and the ugly, more than him. You wished there was a way to tell him that you loved him more than anything, but in that moment, all you could do was grab him and wrap your arms around his waist, squeezing him as tightly as your body would let you, letting your wet face rest against the familiar warmth of his chest as you whispered into the soft fabric of his shirt.

“Javier Peña, you’re the only person it could be.”

You could feel his chest begin to rumble with heavy sobs as his arms draped around you, pulling you against his body so closely, it was like his life depended on it, like he couldn’t bear the thought of ever letting you go again. One arm stayed wrapped around your back as the other slid up the back of your neck, his broad palm cradling your head in his grasp, his fingers practically digging into your skin to keep you close as the two of you let yourselves do nothing but hold each other in your teary silence.

You let one of your hands reach up towards Javi’s face, cupping his jaw and forcing his gaze back on to you, as your thumb traced back and forth along his cheek, wiping away the wetness that had been welling in his eyes.

“I need you to listen to me, okay?” You asked, waiting until you felt Javi’s head gently nod up and down in understanding in your palm before you continued, “The man you were before doesn’t scare me. If it did, I would have been gone a long time ago. The man you were before has turned you into the man that you’ve become. The man that I want to spend everyday with for the rest of my life. Every good day, every bad day, every painful, hard and shitty day, and every day in between. And I promise that I will spend every last one of those days until the day I die trying my best to convince you that you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And if I die trying, then so be it. I love you, Javi. Don’t you ever think for a second that there is anyone out there that I want to spend the rest of my life with more than you, and I won’t ever let you forget it.”

It was only moments before both of Javi’s hands were cradling your face, gently trembling as they cupped your soft, wet skin as you locked eyes with his, watching his face shift from terrified to bewildered, thinking he must have misheard what you had just said to him.

“Osita, I-”

“Promise me.”

“Promise you what?”

“Promise me that you believe me. Promise me that you know I love you more than anything.”

There was a part of Javi’s brain that wished he could find something to prove that he couldn’t. To prove he wasn’t worthy of keeping the promise you had made to him. To convince himself that he had no reason to believe he was worthy of the love you had given him.

But the truth was, for the first time that he could remember, as he looked down at you, the woman who had taken his life and forever changed it for the better, who had helped to heal him in ways he didn’t know he needed, who had cared for him in ways he never thought he deserved, and who had stood by him even as you learned about the ugliest parts of him he never thought he’d forgive himself for, Javier Peña finally realized he had learned what it was like to be worthy of love.

You had made him realize he was worthy of being loved.

A small gulp slid down his throat between his shaky breaths, taking a moment to soak in everything about you, before letting his lips ghost across yours as a quiet whisper left his mouth.

“I promise.”

And just like that, his lips crashed into yours with a ferocious and tender passion, soaking in every ounce of the sweet flavor of you, a taste he knew he would never tire of, one that he craved like nothing else.

“I love you, Osita. Fuck, I love you so much.” Javi moaned between your kisses, praying with every bone in his body you knew how much he meant it.

“I love you too, Javi.” The hot breath of your words danced across his lips before they were crashing together once again, his tongue swiping between your parted mouths as he ran his hand down your back and around your waist, pulling you so close you were convinced your bodies were going to melt into one as you pressed against his broad chest, now needily grasping at fist fulls of his shirt.

In that moment, it was like the two of you could feel something in the air change. The tension lifting, the frustrated fog fading, the both of you desperately needing the other to know how much you loved them. The Javi you knew and loved had come back, returning home to you. All of the fear and sadness was replaced by a rampant desperation to know how much you needed him, almost as much as he needed to show you how hopelessly he craved you, too.

With your bodies still tangled together, your kisses became messier and sloppier as you backed your way towards the door that lead inside, stumbling and trampling over each other’s feet without any regard for where you were headed until you felt your back bump against the kitchen island, the rounded edges of the countertop stopping you in your tracks as Javi caged you between his broad figure and the island.

Both of your hands were now feverishly roaming across each other’s bodies before Javi had run his hands down your thighs, hoisting you up to sit on the countertop, planting hot, wet kisses across your neck and collarbone while his fingers crept under the hem of your dress, his palms sliding up and down your legs, digging his fingers into your flesh.

“Javi…” You whimpered, letting your eyes close and head fall back as he sucked at your pulse point, leaving you with one hand bracing yourself against the edge of the counter and the other with your fingers wrapped around the navy fabric of Javi’s shirt, clinging on for dear life.

You eyes opened, and gaze shifted downwards as you felt Javi pull away from your grasp, watching him drop to his knees, slotting himself between your parted legs and kissing the inside of your thighs while his hands tugged at the waistband of your already soaked underwear, hastily shuffling them to fall down your legs and pool at your ankles. His needy kisses up your thighs crept closer and closer to your core as your legs draped over his shoulders, kneeling before you like you were the altar of everything he worshiped as his deep brown eyes looked up at yours, like he was begging for forgiveness for his sins.

“I’m so sorry, Osita. I’m so sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. Fuck, I love you so much. Let me show me how much I love you. Please, baby. Please let me show you how much I need to be yours.”

Your response was nothing but a ragged moan as you felt his hot breath hovering over your cunt before letting long, flat licks of his tongue drag through your folds, each swipe pressing firmer than the last, lapping up the arousal dripping from your entrance like a sweet nectar. With one hand still white knuckling the edge of the countertop, the other shot down to bury itself in the dark curls of Javi’s thick locks, tugging at ends to find some place to ease your tension as he began to flick and swirl his tongue relentlessly against your clit, lapping you up like a man starved.

“Oh fuck Javi- fuck- you feel so good, baby.” You moaned, raking your fingers along Javi’s scalp as you watched his head bob nestled between your legs, feeling the low hum of satisfaction thrumming in his throat as he began to suck your sensitive bundle of nerves, latching his lips around your clit as his mouth worked feverishly against your cunt. You could already feel the tingle beginning to grow at the base of your spine and spread to your legs as Javi found every sweet spot that he knew made you lose all control, desperate to make you feel how much he needed your love and forgiveness.

“That’s it, sweet girl. Let go for me baby, I’ve got you.” Javi hummed before diving back between your legs, tightening his grip around your thighs as his tongue danced around your clit relentlessly. It wasn’t long before you could feel your orgasm begin to flood your body, pleasure crashing through you as you cried out his name, a death grip clutching around the counter and Javi’s dark locks. Javi worked you through your high, drinking up the juices of your slick as you came, feeling your legs tremble as they stayed slung over his broad shoulders, not stopping until your body was shaking and your whimpers and moans had become so wrecked, he had no choice but to stop to relish in the blissed out, dripping mess he had made you. He would have loved to stay like this forever, watching you become more and more wrecked beneath his tongue, the want, no, need, to be buried inside your heat, getting lost in your wetness and warmth, savoring in the way no one else would ever be able to have you like he did, to know that you were his.

Javi worked in a determined silence, rusting with his belt buckle until the metal clangs of it opening had his pants and boxers in a puddle around his ankles, splaying kisses across your neck as he slid you towards the edge of the counter, his fingers digging into your hips with a bruising intensity. He stroked himself a few times as he lined his cock up with your entrance, guiding his tip through the glistening arousal covering your folds, leaving his dick shiny with your slick as you whimpered into his skin.

“Javi… Please, baby. I need you.” You whimpered, instinctively bucking your hips towards him, desperately craving him to ease the achy emptiness between your legs.

Resting his forehead against yours, the dark, damp curls of his hair brushed your skin, the hot and heavy heat of each of your shaky breaths melting into one another’s as your lips ghosted his, only fully meeting yours to catch the moan that had escaped your mouth as he pushed himself into your heat, letting himself bottom out, his tip brushing against your cervix. You couldn’t help but wrap your legs around the small of his back and drape your arms over his shoulders, desperate to have your bodies needily tangled and intertwined together as you savored in the sweet sting and stretch of his fullness.

He began to rock his hips, letting his cock drag in and out of your cunt, taking his time with each stroke, the movement making you dig your fingernails into the fabric of his shirt stretched over his muscular back, in turn, making the grip he had around your waist even tighter, his fingers buried in the soft flesh of your stomach where his hands had crept under your dress.

The way he punched up into you, perfectly pounding against your g-spot with each thrust, combined with the way the hairs at his base rubbed along your clit, already had the inevitable coil beginning to tighten in your belly. You dug your nails deeper into Javi’s skin, grasping for the damp curls at the nape of his neck, your whimpers growing louder and more desperate with each stroke as you could feel yourself beginning to crumble beneath him.

Each stroke seemed to become deeper and fuller than the last, Javi’s pace now climbing in speed and intensity as he felt your cunt clench tighter and tighter around his cock, knowing that familiar feeling meant you were coming closer to your end. You could barely muster anything but a whimper, your soft pleads and begs going straight to his dick as he slid and out of your wet heat.

“Fuck baby, don’t stop- ahhhh- please don’t stop, I’m so close.”

The lewd sounds of skin hitting skin and low, ragged moans echoed against the bare walls of your unfinished kitchen as Javi fucked deeper and deeper into you, singing sweet, soft praises against your skin between locking your lips with yours.

“Fuck- Dámelo, Hermosa (Give it to me, beautiful). Need to feel you soak my cock before I fuck you full of me. It’s okay mi amor- mierda- té tengo. (my love- shit- I’ve got you.) I’ve always got you. Forever.”

You could feel your legs lock even tighter around Javi’s waist as heat began to bloom in your belly, only needing a few more thrusts as you rolled your hips against his before your mind went blank and vision went white, your orgasm crashing through your body and flooding every inch of you with pleasure so intense, you could feel yourself going limp in his grasp.

“Fuck, Javi, fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god-ahhhhhhhh-” You whimpered as Javi fucked you through your high, now desperate to chase his own as his thrusts became rushed and sloppy, pounding into you as your walls gripped around his cock like a vice. Your warmth and wetness consumed him, only needing a few more pumps before he could feel himself following suit, hissing through gritted teeth as incoherent babbles spilled from his lips.

“There it is, baby. Fuck- fuck, you’re so fucking perfect. I love you so much, Osita. Con todo mi corazón. (With my whole heart). Oh fuck- I’m yours forever. Oh shit, I’m gonna cum to, oh fuckkkkkk.”

With one last thrust, Javi finished buried deep inside you, hot ropes of his cum coating your walls as a slick mixture of spend leaked down your thighs, leaving him panting while he slumped into your shoulder, his chest heaving with labored breaths, trying to compose himself. Bracing himself with one palm flat against the counter next to your hip, his other hand reached up to your face, brushing away a piece of stray hair back into place before gently cupping your cheek as he spoke.

“Osita, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I didn’t mean what I said earlier, I just- fuck- I’ve never been so sure of anything, but when we were at golf today, Steve brought up Lorraine, and I- I just was so scared I was gonna fuck everything up again, and I-”

“Oh God, he brought up Lorraine?! Jesus. I knew it. I knew this was Steve’s fucking fault.” You sighed, quietly laughing to yourself as you shook your head.

“Wait, how did you-”

“Because it just seemed so strange that you were acting like this all of a sudden. You got back from golfing with him and it was like you were a different person. I mean, I’m not gonna lie, I was freaked out and panicking wondering what happened because you’ve never acted like that before. That, and because I love Steve, but he’s an idiot.” The two of you were both now laughing, Javi rubbing his hand over his face before rolling his eyes, wondering to himself how he had really let his friend’s stupid comment get the best of him.

“I’m so sorry, Osita. I should have just ignored it, I just hadn’t thought about it in so long and I was so terrified to mess everything up again. It would kill me to hurt you like that.” His thumb circled around your cheek as he tilted your gaze to meet his, sincerity and remorse swirling in the dark pools of his chocolate brown eyes.

“Javi, listen, if this is moving too fast, or it’s too much for you, I want you to be able to tell me, I understand if-” Before you could finish your sentence, Javi’s lips were planted tenderly against yours, pulling away from your mouth with a goofy grin and satisfied sigh.

“I promise you, I’ve never wanted anything more. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. I can’t wait to marry you,” he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss on your cheek, “I can’t wait to live in our new house with you,” he grinned, planting another ticklish kiss on your neck, “I can’t wait until we can finally start filling up these empty rooms with little baby Peñas” Javi chuckled, now peppering kisses all over your body, making you erupt in a fit of laughter and giggles, squirming and flailing in his grasp, playfully swatting at him. “I can’t wait to spend every day for the rest of my life with the most beautiful, amazing woman I’ve ever met.” He smirked, tilting his head to let your mouths meet again, this kiss filled with a tender passion and intensity unmatched by his previous playful ones.

It was the kind of kiss that said all of the things that words couldn’t. The kind of kiss that had butterflies fluttering in your stomach like the first kiss you had shared in Maria’s bathroom almost a year ago. The kind of kiss that made you fall even deeper in love with him, even when you thought you couldn’t.

It was also the kind of kiss where everything else in the world seemed to melt away and make time stand still, a kiss that you could have stayed lost in forever… unless a certain someone hadn’t forgotten his wallet at your house and needed to come back and get it.

You were so oblivious to anything else happening around you, that neither you or Javi had heard your front door open, followed by the rushed, impatient footsteps of Steve and Connie, arguing about where Steve could have left his wallet, and how on earth he could have left without realizing it was missing from its usual home in his back pocket.

“Seriously, Steve, I can’t believe we’re gonna waste a whole hour having to turn around and come back here because you couldn’t remember your wallet!”

“Con, I told you, it’s right on the counter, I know where it is, lemme just go grab it really quick and then we ca- Oh Jesus fucking Christ!” Steve shouted, walking into the kitchen to see you and Javi making out on your island, your dress pushed up well past your legs, and Javi’s bare ass on display from his pants still pooling around his ankles.

“Ahhhhh!” You and Javi shrieked, practically jumping out of your skin to see Steve’s tall and lanky frame frozen in your kitchen, now scrambling to try and fix your clothes and hair to try and save yourselves at least some dignity.

“What the hell are you two doin’?!” Steve grimaced, trying not to cackle to himself as Connie rushed up behind him to see what was happening, only to very quickly cover her eyes and turn away from you and Javi.

“Us?! What the hell are you doing here? Jesus, you ever heard of fucking knocking, Murph?!” Javi groaned, shuffling his pants back up and fixing his hair before helping you off the counter, trying your best to hide your beet red, embarrassed face.

“I forgot my wallet! Forgive me for thinkin’ you two would keep your hands off each other for long enough to let me come pick it up in peace.” Steve frowned, raising up his hands in defense.

“I’m sorry! I told him to call you to let you know he was coming to pick it up, but he seemed to think it wasn’t a big deal.” Connie scolded, giving Steve a forceful nudge of her elbow before finally turning back around to face you and Javi, knowing you were at least halfway decent. “God, I love you, but you are an idiot.”

“You can say that again…” You snickered under your breath, just loud enough to make Javi and Connie join in your laughter, leaving Steve with his arms crossed over his chest, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“Hey, listen. Call me what you want, but I don’t think you’ll be callin’ me an idiot when you need me to come babysit your 47 kids so the two of you can get some…” He paused gesturing to you and Javi’s disheveled state, “... time to yourselves. Like I said earlier, y’all gotta lot of rooms to fill, and I don’t think you’re gonna have any problem doin’ it.”

And for as much as you wanted to give Steve the ten pounds of shit he deserved, as you looked up at Javi standing next to you, you couldn’t really even bring yourself to be mad. Because in the end, the only thing that mattered was him- the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. The one who was your future, the one who stood with you through every twist and turn, the one who was your home. What started as a day that had you questioning everything had turned into one that had never made you feel more assured. You knew that Javier Peña loved you more than life itself, and you knew that you were so lucky to spend the rest of your life getting to prove to him over and over that you loved him just as much.

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@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

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norrisleclercf1 · 1 year

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It’s A Lie

Pairing: Max Verstappen x wife!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Cursing, Medical talk, C#ncer, hospital, ANGST, etc.

Words: 2.2K

Request: Yes/No

A/N: Did I write this in an hour? Yep, since that race was…not the best, decided to make you actually feel things

Max had 3 top moments in his life. The 3rd was getting called up to drive for Red Bull. 2nd was winning his first World Driver's Championship. The 1st was a day he'll never forget, which was marrying you. It was a day filled with joy and tears. Max never thought you'd agree to marry him. When he was ready to ask, he thought about puking for fear of you saying no.

But you said yes with a shake of your head and tears falling. Max couldn't control his emotions as he cried and hugged you close. The ring was wholly forgotten at the moment. No pictures were taken in a small private ceremony with the drivers and others. Just a memory for you and everyone else.

Max snuck one picture of the wedding. He tasked Daniel with getting a Polaroid picture of your first kiss as a couple. Max kept the picture in his wallet and looked before every race. The two of you were perfect together. With his harsh temper on the track, he was calm and soft at home. The roles switched between you two. You were the harsh-tempered one at home.

Max thought you hung the moon. He was so damn in love with you. Even considered retiring now just so the both of you could start a family. You laughed and kissed him. Telling him to enjoy his youth and speed. He nodded and pulled you closer, talking about everything and anything.

He knew you better than you did, so when he noticed your slight change in sleep, he thought something was wrong.

"Max, stop. I've been working slightly longer hours. I'm just catching up on some sleep." You laugh, fixing your usual coffee while your husband grimaces. "Snoepje, this isn't normal for you. Please just rest for the day." (little candy) Max pleads, but you just groan and slam your mug down. "Max, baby, I'm okay. I slept a little bit past my alarm." Max shakes his head and pulls his hair slightly. "Try 5 hours. It's the afternoon." He sighs, and you cock your head to the side. "What?" You spin and see the time. It wasn't 9 in the morning, but almost 1 in the afternoon.

You usually woke around 6 or 7 in the morning to jog with Max, but this time. You slept well over your standard time. Maybe something was wrong. You didn't feel sick, perhaps just tired, but that was it. "Okay, so I was exhausted." You joke, yet your husband's stone face isn't in the mood for joking.

"Okay, okay." You give up, knowing you wouldn't win this one, and email your boss saying you wouldn't be coming in. Your boss didn't have a problem with you taking the day off as you were always working.

Max was already planning a vacation for both of you, wanting to take advantage of this. "Max, no. Come lay down with me." Giving your best puppy dog eyes, Max tries hard not to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his mind. "Snoepje, maybe go to the doctor." He pleads to move to lie on top of you, placing his head on your stomach. Closing his eyes, he listens to the soft thumps of your heartbeat before a thought comes to mind. "Wait? Could you be pregnant?" Sitting up fast, you choke on a laugh at his blinding happiness.

"No, Max. I finished my period a few days ago." You sigh, closing your eyes again, and Max nods. "Maybe that's it. Your hormones are balancing back out, and you're tired." Humming in agreement, knowing he was convincing himself that everything was okay. "Yes, Max. Now lay down, please." You beg your hyperactive puppy of a husband. Max smiles and lies down, forgetting all about it.

It wasn't till another 6 months when Max noticed you weren't the same self. This time you joined him for a race, as he was keen on keeping you close to ensure everything was okay. Laughing with Max, Christian, and Adrian, you felt lightheaded but waved it off.

"Oh god, Y/n." Christian noticed it first, pulling Max's attention to see the small line of cherry red fall from your nose. "Snoepje!" Ge grabs a clean rag and pushes it to your nose, making you groan from the severe pressure. "Max, not so hard." You wheeze, unable to breathe, which has Max easing the tension. "Why is your nose bleeding?" Eyes wild with concern which have you giggling.

"Max, it's the pressure change in the climate. It happened to me all the time as a kid. "It'll stop soon. See?" Pulling the rag away, you dab your nose and show it isn't bleeding any more. Max sighs and knocks his forehead with yours, smiling like a fool from his freak-out. "Are you okay?" He whispers, watching Adrian and Christian back off, leaving the two of you alone. "Of course." You smile, lying to him, not wanting to tell him about you being lightheaded.

"You promise?" Vulnerability all over him, hating when you lied to him or not telling him there was a problem. "Max. I promise you. I'm okay." You whisper and lean up, kissing your husband on the lips and then his ring. "Now, go win, and maybe I'll show you just how okay I am." You giggle and reach down, grabbing him, which has him shiver and pull away. Laughing, he nods and goes to win the race.

After 2 months, you started to notice a severe problem. There was indeed something wrong. Those nosebleeds and being lightheaded became more frequent because Max told the team he couldn't race one weekend and stay home with you. After fighting, he was away for a race, and you were in the doctor's office. Getting the news of what was wrong with you was received with a smile and a nod leaving to call Max.

"Anemic? That's fucking it?" Max snaps over the phone while you fix your tea, something to help calm your nerves. "Anemia, yes, that's what the doctor said." Closing your eyes, you wait for the room's spinning to fade. "No. No. That doctor is fucking stupid. There is no way with the bloody noses and you almost fainting anytime you move; it can't just be fucking ANEMIA!" In the end, he's yelling. In the background, you hear JP telling Max to go somewhere else.

"Max, they said I have severe anemia and just need to change my diet and take some pretty hefty iron supplements." You sip your tea and lie on the couch, exhaustion settling deep into your bones. "I'm coming home, fuck this race." He curses more in Dutch, refusing to be away from you like this. "Baby, don't. This is a huge race for you and Red Bull. I'm fine, okay? Chrissy is coming over later to cook. So I won't be alone." Chrissy being your maid and chief, was like a second mother. "Y/n, I'm not fighting this. I must be home with you, not driving some metal around circles. You're more important." He spits, hearing hurried rustling, and you take deep breaths to control your temper.

"Max Emilian Verstappen! Don't you fucking come home! If you do, I'll divorce you." You snap, tired of him freaking out over your health. Silence is met before Max chuckles. "Then we're getting a divorce. I'm coming home." Max hangs up, and you sigh, giving up.

"Y/n? Darling? It's me." You wake to Chrissy yelling and walking into the living room and stop seeing your state. "Let's take a shower and get some color in you. Before Max sees." Chrissy knew the truth and was helping you. It ate at you every day, but you wanted to live an everyday life as much as possible.

"He's on the way home." You whisper, Chrissy nodding, helping you to the shower.

"Y/N! Chrissy!" Max's voice booms through the house, and it meets with laughter. Heading to the kitchen, and sees you smiling and laughing. You look healthy and happy. Color blushed your skin and saw life back in you; maybe it was just anemia.

"Snoepje." You turn and smile at him widely. "Guess we're getting that divorce, hmm?" You playfully push him, but Max grabs your wrist and yanks you into his chest. You hide your pain and wrap your arms around his waist. "We'll get a divorce when I die." He jokes, kissing the top of your head before leaning over and kissing Chrissy's temple. He mouths a thank you, and Chrissy smiles and returns to cooking. Max stayed away from the track for almost 3 months.

His first weekend back and winning, he'll never forget getting that phone call after the race, thinking it was you congratulating him. Except he's met with Chrissy crying, loud beeps in the back, hurried shouts, and Chrissy telling Max to come home now. Rushing home, he goes to the hospital, breaking every law in history to get to you. Max was still in his race suit. That's how fucking scared he was.

"Chrissy!" Seeing her, he rushes to her as she cries softly, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She sobs, pulling away from Max. "What are you sorry about? Chrissy? What's going on?" Max yells as Chrissy shakes her head and rushes out, unable to handle seeing him fall apart.

"Will someone tell me what the FUCK IS GOING ON!" He roars, panic pumping through his veins as a nurse rushes to his side. "Mr. Verstappen, we need you to lower your voice." The nurse speaks in a soft tone leading him to a room.

Pushing the door open, Max sobs softly, seeing your state. A shell of yourself lay on the bed. How could you come to this state before him? Thin, so very thin, hair dull and stringy. How could he have missed this? Why didn't he see this? He was home; what did he miss? He moves to your side, lifts up your hand, and wails behind his hand so he doesn't wake you.

"Late-stage glioblastoma. Shame we caught it so late. Nothing we can do now. She signed a DNR." A nurse sighs, checking your vitals, and Max lifts his head. "What? What's a glioblastoma, a fucking DNR? What's going on?" The nurse turns, and her eyes widen, seeing the confused look on his face.

"Let me get the doctor." Rushing out of the room, an older man with a pristine white coat walks in and closes the door. He moves around silently and takes his jacket off.

"They tell me you are unaware of what is going on with your wife." his voice was soft but static like he was even having a hard time doing this. "She has severe anemia. Why are they saying she has something called glioblas-glioblastoma and signed a DNR. What the fuck is a DNR?" Max's foot bounces, holding your hand, praying you open your eyes.

"Glioblastoma is a form of brain cancer. It's uncurable. Your wife is in the late stages. Meaning treatment will not help. I diagnosed her a little over a year ago. Treatment was working, but......sadly I told her not too long ago we couldn't do anything else." Taking a deep breath, the doctor continues. "A DNR means Do Not Resucitate. When her heart rate stops, we can't perform life-saving measures. Mr. Verstappen...I'm so very sorry."

Max laughs and shakes his head, having heard nothing after being told it was cancer. It was static around him. You have been dying this entire time and never once told him. How could this have happened?

"I was home. I took time off, and she was dying before me; how could I not see this?" He asks, not wanting an answerback. "I'll leave you be." The doctor whispers and leaves as Max moves closer, burying his head into your stomach and crying. "How could you do this?" He sobs.

"I'm sorry." He yanks away and sees you awake, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Why? I would've retired. I would've stayed by your side the entire time. We could've done so many things together. Why?!" He yells, and you just move your hand cupping his face.

"And have you watched me die? Max, I couldn't handle that." You whisper, but your husband just shakes his head. "I hate you." He snaps like a child but regrets it when it leaves his mouth. "That's okay. I hate myself too." You whisper and wince in pain, hitting a small red button, and Max watches you relax when the medicine hits.

"Promise me something?" You ask as beeps fill the room, Max becoming aware again of everything. "Anything." He whimpers, pulling you into him. "Love again." Kissing his hand that cups your cheek, Max shakes his head no.

"Yes. You'll find someone you love, and I want you to remember I sent them to you for a reason. Don't push them away, Max. Cherish them." You whisper, making Max sob all over again, and he gathers you in his arms like a child.

"I love you." He whimpers, the beeping slowing as he just holds you, the only sound of the slow beeping, but soon, even that was gone.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #f1 scenario #formula one #f1 2023 #max x reader #max verstappen scenario #max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max imagine #max verstappen fanfic #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #f1 red bull #f1 angst

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gabessquishytum · 6 months

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Have we ever talked about repeated divorcee Dream falling in love with his divorce lawyer Hob?

- Hob is convinced that no one can be THIS bad at marriage. Is it a prank? Some kind of weird kink?? Dream has been divorced 5 times and he's not even 40

- Dream is just really that bad at marriage. And he did pick some pretty questionable partners. One of whom may have been a serial killer. But he's a hopeless romantic and he wants to make his marriages work!

- Hob makes jokes about Dream having him on speed dial, Dream should invite him to his next wedding etc etc... After the 3rd wedding it stops being a joke. Hob’s best man speech is very touching actually

- Dream: *is a walking red flag* Hob: i can ✨fix him✨

- They get married, of course. There's a betting pool on how long it will last - but Hob knows it will last forever. He's the only divorce lawyer Dream is willing to employ, and Hob has banned him from his office for life ❤

#the sandman #dreamling

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sweetestbasil · 3 months

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RUBATOSIS || chapter one: self digestion

PAIRING : Dr.Gaul's Assistant!Coriolanus Snow x Experiment!Reader-Insert ( afab, they / them, sometimes it )

RATING : 18+ ( no smut in this chapter, but it's very unsettling )

WORD COUNT : 13, 776

WARNINGS : infidelity ( coryo's engaged to livia ), power imbalance, unreliable narrator ( it's 3rd POV but focuses on coryo's view ), unhealthy dynamics, dehumanizing language, medical experimentation, body examination that has... strange vibes, body horror-esque, coryo and gaul are messed up in this fic, he's more like his book version than movie

SUMMARY : 🙶 rubatosis - noun. the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat 🙷

Fortune, marriage, and success - all within the hands of Coriolanus Snow, and it still isn’t enough to satisfy him. Tigris has grown distant and Livia is far more trouble than it's worth.

Dr. Gaul has just the solution for him.

A/N : This is my first time posting my fanfic work on tumblr, so I hope everyone has fun reading this. If there are any mistakes, lemme know. This is the first of five chapters!

[ If you want to read it on AO3 instead ]

self digestion || autolysis - stage one of decomposition

Oh, he hated this.

He absolutely despised this.

A click of the soles, stepping against the freshly clean sidewalk, rid of any possible careless litter and debris. Had it not been for others who, too, were using the same path, even if they were going in opposite directions, had he half a mind, Coriolanus would have taken the moment to prop himself against a wall and let out the loudest sound of frustration. It wouldn’t be unwarranted, it wouldn’t be uncalled for. Dare he say, he almost feels he should be entitled to it. It had only been four days, but four days should have been enough time for Tigris to get back to him already. The correspondence was not even something of dire content, at least, Coriolanus imagined so. Questions of Grandma’am, if her time with Mrs. Plinth ( he was not going to refer to her as ‘Ma Plinth’ ) had been going well, how was the solo business venture regarding Tigris’s fashion going, was there any renovations that the home needed, how were they — things that he assumed, wrongly he guessed, that would be so simple to answer.

God forbid that he still had the decency to still check in with his family even after he long moved out into his own place.

If Tigris thought she could play him for a fool, she was the one in the wrong; the signs were as clear as can be, that Tigris was trying to ice him out as much as she could. And after all he’s worked hard for? Fixing the home up, making sure the fridge never stays empty, stabilizing the family. He’s even gotten engaged before Grandma’am could even croak, and is letting Tigris design his fiancé’s wedding gown! What else was he supposed to do to try and gain back her warmth? Dance and clap like a District to make himself seem smaller, more dumb, to please her? There was a lock to his jaw, a small grit in Coriolanus’s teeth, as he sipped down the coffee in his hand, the other in his coat pocket.

He didn’t even wish to broach the idea of his fiancé on his walk to the Citadel. The heavy breath, a sigh, that breached itself out his lips. A hand raised to rub a gloved thumb briefly at the bridge of his nose.

Ugh, Livia… It was a pain to even internally taste the words of her name on his tongue.

It was an arranged marriage of convenience that he sought after, an extra piggy bank that he could expend on; and how quickly the elder Cardews lapped up at his palm when he planted the idea of marrying their daughter. A man who was of the old guard elite families, an assistant of Dr. Gaul’s, inheritor of the Plinth’s fortune, a gamemaker in training? They were downright salivating, that he almost felt embarrassed for Livia having to witness her parents’ stripped to their barest of greeds. The keyword being almost. Coriolanus needed to play his cards right to ensure his future, it was only fair game. If that meant taking his chance with the Cardews’ and their banks, he’d be just the fool that Tigris would want him to be if he turned them away. But, he could reluctantly suppose that the arrangement could be considered an equal drain on both parties. He seized their assets and their daughter seized up his free time. How could he forget the fundraiser dinner that Livia had invited them both to later on in the evening? She was delightful enough to remind him of it while they shared breakfast together, between his bites of quiche so that he couldn’t show a hint of a frown.

Coriolanus sucked in a careful breath between his teeth.

If she could only put herself to better use than just the one redeeming quality of a socialite. There was a slim chance he may have miscalculated. Perhaps it would have been an easier time, having something set up with Clemensia, or Lysistrata.

“Mr. Snow! Good morning and welcome back, Dr. Gaul is already waiting for you in—“

“In Lab H05, got it! And a good morning to you, too.” He smiled back effortlessly to the front desk worker, giving them a wave and just the right, charming amount of teeth with the upwards pull of his mouth.

Entering into the Citadel and seeing the hive of workers shift from one place to another in constant movement; they all tried to keep their voices at a low volume, but there was a constant buzz in the air, as they went from one hall to the other. Coriolanus maneuvered himself around them, slipping his deep mahogany overcoat seamlessly folded across his forearm. Full-Grain leather gloves that kept him warm from the cold, taken off his hands and instead placed neatly into the pocket of his overcoat. What a marvel it would have been for his young, naïve self to bear witness the luxury of a full wardrobe he now had. Never again did he have to spend long nights studying for the Academy besides an equally tired Tigris, who busied herself with trimming down the sizes of his father’s discarded shirts to fit him for school the next day.

It was a muscle memory at this point, the path to one of the many labs that Dr. Gaul had established her practice in. She had told Coriolanus that she had a lab for each different study and project she was passionate towards, ones that were more… presentable, to the average Capital citizen, and ones that were more uncensored. Having worked for over a year under Dr. Gaul’s tutelage, Coriolanus had seen a decent amount, the clean and the vile, but even then, he knew very well he had not seen all. He wasn’t even sure if he did want to see all. Especially regarding what happened last time he wandered around the Citadel during Academy days. The doors to Lab H05 were wide open, Coriolanus noted, seeing it in his line of sight, getting closer and closer. It was inviting, telling any worker to come in and step in at any time ( should Dr. Gaul be around ).

The air here was entirely different from what it was in the hallway. Where the air from when he first entered had been warm, inviting from the nipping cold outside. The vague smell of coffee, and an even fainter scent of something chemical, had mingled and intertwined to give the vaguest illusion that the Citadel could pass for a workplace like any other. However, the lab was as if entering an entirely different building. The lights that shone uncomfortably glaring, fluorescent lights that were hung overhead, on the ceiling. There were small lights, embedded into the floors and columns as well, guiding the path to any who walked in. It drowned the large room in an almost blue light. Lab H05 was one of the “clean” labs. A sterile scent in the air, the chemicals that were so faint in the halls were far more prominent, evident here. But, to the trained nose, there was something faint here too. The rusted scent of iron tickled under Coriolanus’s nose, but it barely registered to him anymore as anything concerning. Seeing the endless shelves of… odd specimens, the scent of blood was the last thing that should ever scare him away.

“Dr. Gaul, good morning,” He kept a steady tone, not one that sounded tired, nor too joyous. Being seen as her “favorite” didn’t mean he could speak to her as casually as he pleased. It just meant that he took her current attention. A fickle thing that could be stripped away at any moment if he showed any less than acceptable.

“Coryo,” He tensed his shoulders the same time she breathed it out in loving fashion. Her back once facing him, now turned as she walks towards him to cut the distance between the two. Since the gap started to form between Tigris and him, Dr. Gaul had taken to using that nickname on him. If it was to be used in terms of endearing him to her, or to mock him with the name that ghosts had called him, none could say for sure.

Coriolanus liked to believe it to be both, if he believed his assumptions of her character were right.

He never once let his eyes leave contact with her own, but he could hear the movement of her prominent, red latex gloves being peeled off her hands. She always thought it to be ironic, to wear such a color despite her profession. It matched the dye job that she had done on her surgical gown. He felt the weight of hands touching either side of his forearms, the smile on Dr. Gaul’s face caused a crinkle in her eyes as she bared all teeth in her smile. He wondered if she knew how threatening her grin looked.

“A morning to you as well. Has it been treating you good?”

It felt as if some sort of warm feeling was spreading out from Dr. Gaul’s hands, through his arms and into his body. What a disgusting sensation, it made goosebumps rise on his skin.

“As well as it could be.” Coriolanus’s voice spoke softly.

Livia drained his energy far more than he expected with her morning rambles and gossip.

Dr. Gaul’s hands smacked against his arms in a laugh, loud and knowing, she always knew, turning around to walk deeper in the lab. “Hah! By the sounds of it, it seems you’re not getting some peace of mind when you head home,” She turned back to look at him, giving him a glance, she was prying something out of him. “That’s no good, Coryo. You need to be in top shape to work, I can’t have my assistant become so… drained.”

The crease in her eyes showed again.

“If this is your preferred state, there is a new species of leeches I am working on. I assure you it is far more efficient than a Cardew of species.”

Well, now it was his turn to laugh.

A dry chuckle that slipped from Coriolanus’s lips, moving to follow Dr. Gaul. Placing his coat on a table made of rich wood, something less… aseptic looking. There were moments where he often froze under the woman’s gaze; a humiliating, bodily reaction that made him feel so small, so vulnerable as he used to be. Yet, it was in times like these, where he could understand how Dr. Gaul still managed to hold sway over people besides just exemplary displays of fear and power. There was a sense of humor to her, if he could call it that, where if a powerful woman like her involved yourself in - you felt so included, special.

“It was nothing like that. Livia just reminded me that after work today, she and I have to attend dinner later in the evening. It’s a fundraiser for the improvement and reconstruction of the Corso.” He turned his sight away from Dr. Gaul’s eyes, not being able to keep the contact any more. Flicking to the sight of the endless, bright shelves that lit up the tubes containing various specimens and experiments. Some failures, some on pauses, some successes, and some were just creative ‘what-ifs’; that would explain some of the seemingly useless fusions, like the jellyfish that had spider legs mixed in with some of its natural lappets, now encased in a resin tube. Coriolanus can’t recall if he was employed at the Citadel yet when this specimen was made. His fingers briefly touched upon the cool glass of it. What a disgusting idea. “I almost nearly forgot about it.” Dr. Gaul hummed at his response.

“Why, doesn’t that sound riveting! What a joy young life is, flitting from one function to the other, all the night-time glamor. You know, before I was transferred to work in the Citadel, I was the same. I thought of giving my children some of my old wardrobe from my youth, but it’s so out of the current trends, it just collects dust now.” What a blessing, for her kids. They could avoid the embarrassment of coming into the room looking as if they robbed the Pre-Dark Days exhibit at the Capital’s museum. The heels of Dr. Gaul’s heels clicked against the smooth, waxed floor. Coriolanus could feel the brief sliver of her heavy presence pass him by from behind, as she went to head over to another area in the room. It sounded vaguely close to the center of it.

“You must be excited, Coryo. Are you going to wear,” Her words paused. She was tasting the air for something. “Ah, what’s her name… That cousin of yours, the one who started her new business a while ago.”

What was the point of this conversation?

“Tigris.”

A brief flare tickled behind his ribs, reminding him of his thoughts earlier before. Standing up from his spot, fingers now leaving the glass of the odd ( sickening ) creature, his prints left slightly behind on the glass. Stretching his shoulders back with his arms, muscles pulled, away from their previously hunched position. Coriolanus walked over to where Dr. Gaul was, who stood nearby another table at the center of the lab. This time, this one was far cleaner, made of what seemed to be a material of stainless steel. In her hands she carried a manila folder, or two, in her hands; her painted nails sifted through the papers carefully. She was writing something quickly down inside of it. He wanted to know, but he held his tongue. Gaul would tell him if it was something he needed to be aware of.

“And I’m not sure. Livia is still picking out her dress and I want to match with her.” He smiled at her.

“Aren’t you a romantic,” She gives him a look out of the corner of her eye, the blue one that matched his. It made his skin crawl, he hated the feeling of it. “Is your heart melting, Snow?”

Coriolanus hopes she sticks to her career as a Gamemaker, being a comedian looks like a bleak future for her.

The smile on his lips grew wider, a small laugh at her words, his hand reaching to cover his mouth slightly to muffle the sound in the large room.

“I wouldn’t say that just yet.”

He wouldn’t say it at all. Livia? Melt his heart? Sure, she could melt his eardrums when she had that obnoxious snort to her loud laughs. It made her sound like a pig, shipped straight to the Capital from the farms of District 10. That would defeat the purpose of why he married her in the first place. It would be the utmost betrayal to himself, after he had promised to close himself after–

“Since you have a date tonight,” His ears perked up immediately. “I’ll reduce the amount of work you have for today, I’ll be merciful.” He wouldn’t argue if she decided to give him more. She pressed a manila folder into his open hands, her grip was tight on it. This was a folder that not many eyes needed to be on. Taking it carefully from her hands, he raised it to his eyesight curiously, catching the sight of the project name written on top of it.

PROJECT: CAPTIVE – A.01 PROMETHEUS

Coriolanus brought his gaze back towards Dr. Gaul. He assumed he slipped a confused gaze at her, because before he could even ask her, she’s already speaking up:

“This is a project I had started around the time you were exiled in District 12.”

His jaw slightly tightened. She didn’t have to use that exact word to describe it.

“It’s far more… unique,” Her eyes rolled around the room as she sought out the word, the moment it landed on her tongue, she locked her sight immediately onto him. Gaul’s smile pulled a bit more at her cheeks, a festering excitement that was slipping out from her internal confines. The threat of teeth in her smile was no longer an attempt of niceties, but far more sinister in its intentions. Coriolanus would argue on a good day that both were the same, that Dr. Gaul’s cruelty was her being kind. “Than my other projects. Far more different than any of my other muttations, this is a beast of a different breed, but one that you and I know intimately well.”

So this was a human experimentation, Coriolanus deduced.

Dr. Gaul would never dare to refer to those below Capital ranks as something human, there was always something else she had to refer to them by. Animal, beast, plague, insect, if it stripped them of their humanity, she was eager to take it. They shared similar sentiments, but sometimes, he had to give them some form of distinct name to separate them. “I’ve actually grown quite fond of it. Usually, I’d handle its tests and exams, but you seem like you need a pick-me-up.”

It should make him disgusted at how easily she could see through him.

The older woman stepped further away from him, into one of the dark recesses of the room. Lab H05 was one of the main center labs within the Citadel, meaning it earned itself the privilege to have its layout be connected to other rooms, outside areas, halls, and the like. It just happened to be, the darker areas that Gaul was heading in were towards the direction of one of the elevators connected to the room. Coriolanus watched her body retreat into the dimly lit area, not quite following after her. He didn’t know why. His hands felt stiff with the folder in his hands. The pounding beat of his heart in his ears matched in tempo with the steps of her heels against the floor. If he was going to move, she was going to need to ask him. She knew too, the doctor knew her own footsteps, and she was very aware when others’ joined in. Turning around to look at where he still was, standing, watching, she looked back at him. Coriolanus could make out her faint silhouette in the dark, but Dr. Gaul’s blue eyes shone brighter in the dark. As if she had tapetum lucidum, how it reflected so wildly. She was not helping the rumors made against her, that questioned if she ever used herself for a subject of fascination.

“Come now, Coryo. You don’t want to waste time.”

A silence fell upon them both.

“Understood, I’m right behind you.”

Walking after her, Coriolanus descended the small set of stairs that she had gone down from, he stepped into the dimly lit area. The manila folder was still grasped tightly in his one hand, at his side. He didn’t understand it, he didn’t understand her. Yes, she said that she wanted to cheer him up, but he’d be a fool if he was to believe that’d was to be the only reason why she was doing this. Volumnia Gaul, telling confidential secrets because she cared for his well being? No, there was always something else. An ulterior motive she wished to serve, or a lesson she wanted to teach. When he was brought back from his sentence of being a peacekeeper, it was not because her heart broke over him. She was not weeping at him having to tread his feet into the muck and grime of District 12. It was because she was holding him up to an ambition that both him and her both wished to see.

“This one,” Dr. Gaul started her words, occasionally turning her head to the side to make sure he was still following her ( he was ). “Started out as a simple curiosity. I had to sit with myself quite a bit to figure out a punishment that would actually serve some productivity.” Her hands reached behind her, flicking at the folder that Coriolanus was holding. He opened up the folder, finally, to look through the report. Whatever the Doctor was gesturing vaguely in conversation, it would be more explicit in her writings. “Displays of cadavers, desecration of the human silhouette, trauma to the cerebrum, these punishments can only go for so long before new ideas must be made. If the rebels expect the same disciplinary action, you can expect them to gain a tolerance to it.”

Squinting at the paper, he leaned his head slightly down to get a closer look of the subject. A small photo was attached to the report by a paperclip, it was a person who seemed to be in a similar age group to his. They looked clean, proper - they wore an ironed, white button up shirt under a dark vest, with unique, yet simple earrings they donned on. Pearls and tiny opals that dangled from a gold chain earring. A family heirloom, if Coriolanus had to guess. They smiled widely in the photo. Their teeth weren’t perfect, their upper cuspid was a bit more pointed in comparison to all others.

They had once been a capital citizen, turned rebel, to… this.

“I wanted to truly push my mind forward, and see if the impossible would truly be… well, possible.” Dr. Gaul grinned at the end of the sentence. Coriolanus lifted the photo up, after hooking his gaze unto the former for a moment. It’s a shame, he thought to himself. How pretty they are, had they not tainted their mind with childish ideas they would have continued to live in the comforts that they were so comfortably lavishing in before. He was curious as to whose family they once belonged to. A filthy curiosity enticed him, a want to digest more at the report at the risk of tuning out Gaul’s feverish ramblings.

“Personally, I outdid myself.”

There was a small desire to curse her under his breath, the writing for the subject’s name was far too rushed and messy to read properly. Did she want him to read the report, or play word scramble?

Dr. Gaul’s steps had stopped, the white noise of her chatter turned to silence was enough to bring his head back from the report. She stood between him and the elevator, holding her hands in front of her, folded. Peeking to the side, the button for the down level was lit up in a glow of red. Her smile widened.

“Curiosity eating away at you, Coryo?”

It still made his skin crawl, everytime she used that name. How frightening it was, that it also brought him a strange sense of the coldest warmth.

“You’ve talked so vividly about them,” Not clear enough. “I want to see what makes you so excited about them.” He wants to see if they could come close to bringing him out of his frustrations. Fingers that touched the edge of the subject’s photo twitched in tempo with the small ding of the elevator. Doors opening, Dr. Gaul stepped to the side. Hands gestured, letting him know to step in first which he obliged. Yet, no other steps than his own followed him in. Coriolanus turned around, a puzzled look on his face when he noticed how Dr. Gaul was standing in the middle of the elevator’s doors.

“Expected me to come join you? You can’t be so attached to my hip, Coryo.” She laughed, her hands reached in between her surgical gown and work attire. Pulling out a set of keys attached to her worker’s ID, she tugged a key off. Dr. Gaul dipped her body slightly in to twist at a lock that had revealed another panel of floor buttons aside from the usual floor ones. This must have been the key designated for the Citadel’s researchers and engineers. He had a private key of his own, but that was reserved for Game Makers. Still in training, but Dr. Gaul had persuaded the others to give him his own copy. “I have other things that need tending to, so you’ll have to have your fun without me.” Pushing a floor button that was labeled C09, glowing red under her touch, she gave him her key. She pressed into Coriolanus’s free palm, closing his fingers to clasp around it.

“You can keep this one. I’ll ask for another copy.”

Was it because this one almost seemed rusted over to hell and back? Coriolanus wasn’t an idiot. He could feel the textured sensation of something that, usually, was supposed to be smooth metal.

“Thank you, Dr. Gaul.” He spoke softly back to her.

Dr. Gaul sent him another smile towards his way, the abominable sight of her gradually leaving his sight as the doors closed. A divide now between the both of them.

Instantly, a breath of air was released from Coriolanus. His head reeled back, eyes closed, leaning against the wall of the elevator. He was now by himself. Free from that imposing woman, he finally could be released from her watchful gaze. Always gauging him, examining him as if he, too, was another subject on her surgical table. Perhaps, in a strange, distant sense, he was. Which is why he likes it far more when their interactions are limited. Even if it makes him feel guilty if he hasn’t spoken to her for any prolonged amount of time.

Another breath, he brought his head back down, eyes open. Opening his hand to where the key was held in his hand. It was frighteningly warm in his hand, most likely from when both Dr. Gaul and him held onto it. The material of the key was dark in color, rust having formed around some of the edges. Spots of dark stains marred its dull shine, it almost looks black in contrast to the key’s natural dark hue. This most definitely was blood, now dried. In his head, Coriolanus could see the vivid picture in his head: Dr. Gaul barely bothering to remove her gloves after leaving the examination room, holding the key between sticky gloves. A sneer pulled on Coriolanus’s face. He pocketed the key away.

He wanted to focus on something else.

The weight of the manila report at his side stuck out glaringly obvious, he still had yet to fully read through everything. His fingers were still thumbing between one of the pages, bookmarking a random place in the report. Should he wait to see the project on his own? Give himself something ‘fun’ to surprise himself with? A discomfort prickled at the hairs on his neck. No, he didn’t like surprises too much. Surprises meant no control, and no control meant chaos that wasn’t under his hand. And what more could be asked, when what he needed to know was right here. Hands flipped back open the manila folder while he waited for the elevator to finish its descent.

On the first page, there was only one photo of the subject, before the project had started. Dr. Gaul was always so thorough, so there must have been more to see. And how he loved to be right, when the sight of more clipped on photos peeked through in between pages. He stopped at the sight of them. These had been nude, taken in what was most definitely an examination room. They must’ve been in captivity for a few days for how haggard they looked. Gleam completely gone, with only a dark emptiness seen on their face. Signs of minimal swelling on their left cheek from when they were hit by a peacekeeper when resisting arrest. Bags under the optics, suggesting either sleep deprivation or developed insomnia. His eyes lingered on the photos that took in zoomed in shots of identifiable beauty marks that were scattered around their body. One around the back of their left acromial, around the sternocleidomastoid, one on the left mammary gland, and another on the right femoral muscle. Unconsciously, his fingers traced along the edges of each photo as he examined them until they traced after the words of ink.

The objective of the project: engaging and testing pain receptors on the subject. By use of non-licensed medication and surgical operations, the subject’s NTRK1 gene was mutated to a certain extent to gain the closest imitation to Congenital Analgesia ( while still keeping the subject alive ). If Coriolanus recalled, in his textbooks, Congenital Analgesia was a condition that always was given to a patient by a pass down from the parent. It was never really something ‘made’, or ‘given’. He could understand now why Dr. Gaul was so pleased with herself for accomplishing this feat. Curiosity was beckoning him, wanting to see more of what the report entailed.

Pages dedicated to each operation, each test done. There were pain charts made, scales from 1 to 10, to test out the nerve receptors. Each test, the numbers on the chart went lower and lower; 10s that went to 9s, to the current lowest being a 6 for the majority of the subject’s body. The more sensitive areas, such as the frontal or the palmar of the body, were around 7 to 8 on the chart. Flipping to the back of the contents, there was a small note in Dr. Gaul’s handwriting.

Today, please take care of Project Prometheus’s nerve exams. The last surgical operation was done last month and they have just now fully recovered. Update the report by the end of today, to measure if there are any fluctuations on their pain receptors.

Sounded simple enough. If this was all he had to do today, then there was a chance he could clock out from work even earlier to give himself space before tonight’s event. A ding finally was heard from the elevator, he was here at Lab C09. Folder closed in his hands, his foot stepped out of the elevator and onto the floor. What a drastic difference Lab C09 had been in comparison to Lab H05. If it hadn’t belonged to Dr. Gaul, Coriolanus may not have been able to believe that this was an actual functioning lab. It almost seemed forgotten by the Citadel, half of the fluorescent lights not working, or blinking at different intervals. It bathed the floor in a very gray, almost vile green hue. The scent of copper and rust was far more noticeable, and the smell of medicine felt almost nauseous here. There were no grand columns in sight, and no endless amount of shelves dedicated to new specimens and ideas of creation. The floors were unkempt, specks of dirt packed into the corners of where the wall and once sleek tiles met. Occasional cracks on the floor, parts of the design broken and shattered into bits of ceramic. The halls were long, with endless doors that ( thankfully ) all were open, empty, or both. With the exception of the large corridor doors at the other end. He could make out the sight of Peacekeepers that stood on guard, near the corridor door and by the elevator entrance.

This definitely was Dr. Gaul’s more… uncensored labs.

Coriolanus took a few more steps into the lab and noticed the large stain of dried blood that dragged from where his feet stood, past the corridor doors. Eyebrows raised at the sight, but his eyes did not widen. Marvelous, the subject might still be rebellious. If this was to be the case, he’d be severely unimpressed. All these exams to change the NTRK1 and nothing done to affect the amygdala.

Sloppy work here, Dr. Gaul.

Pushing through the corridor doors, after giving the briefest of nods and acknowledgement towards the Peacekeepers, he found himself exactly where he needed to be. Entering an area that was entirely void of light, except for one thing.

A large window glass on the other side, showing the examination room on the other side. It lit up this half of the hall, shelves of varying medicines and chemicals lined against the walls of the examination room. Surgical tools were lined up high on the wall, out of reach, not yet pulled out and placed on the side. Today there was no operation to be done. Examination lights shone overhead, and under it was the examination table where Project Prometheus sat.

They sat down so compactly, so politely, knees folded to their chest and arms wrapped around them, their face leaned against the crevice their legs gave. The subject definitely had changed, physically, since the projects had begun. Their skin barely had the warm glow it had in their photo, had it not been for the peeks of color on their joints, he’d assume that there was no more blood rushing through their body. Their hair that once looked so well maintained, luxurious, was cut at awkward angles. Yet, it still managed to frame their face well enough. Figures, that was former Capital genes at work. Their body has taken significant damage since then. Scars of various shapes were scattered all across, bandages wrapped in some areas, and stitches that dragged around entire limbs, like their arms, thighs, feet, even one on their face. As if they were some over-played ragdoll that was patched up far too many times. There was no fight he could see from their eyes, and no anger. Was the blood on the floor halls really theirs, or did that belong to someone else?

This could not even be called anything, but a shell of a husk.

Coriolanus stood there, watching, taking in the sight of them. It barely felt like he was breathing. And that alone irritated him. It’s like his body was trying to make itself seem smaller; as if he was somehow bothering them. He sighed out his frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. They couldn’t even hear him from the thick glass, what would he be so concerned with? Bringing his hand back down, about to open the manila folder once again to compare their ID photo to their current state - he peeked at their form again.

He had been noticed by it.

His breath felt lodged in his throat, his original action now tossed to the side, as they and him both just… watched each other. Their eyes that had looked so sullen and distant before, were so focused and vigilant of him. But, they didn’t seem scared of him. Their body didn’t look tense, their expression didn’t twist into any wrinkles. What feeling was running through their body? Could they possibly feel anything? Coriolanus stepped away from the glass, slowly, and down further into the hall, to where the door of their examination room was. A peacekeeper stood guard near the heavy door, beside them a surgical gown, cap, goggles and gloves were on a hook. Excusing the other to the side, so he could reach and grab the attire to put on himself. Coriolanus questioned, as he tugged the latex rubber gloves on, if he still wanted to entertain the idea of holding their test today. Teeth grinded inside his jaw, he hated to admit weakness, but it was no lie that they unsettled him when they had stared back.

That probably contributed to why Dr. Gaul favored the project so much, both must take joy from bringing him such unease. A sigh hissed from his teeth, as he put the surgical mask on.

“I’ll be back out in just a moment. I’ll let you know if an emergency comes up.”

It’ll be easy work, and then he can leave.

Opening the door, the sterile smell of the room rushed past him as the metal door was moved from its tight seal and then closed heavily behind him. Their head had moved away from where the glass window was, turned to stare at where he stood near the door, their folder still in his hands. Thinly-veiled sweat was forming inside the gloves, with the silence that fell heavy in the room. He opened the folder.

“Good morning, Subject A01, I am–”

…?

Did they say something?

“...I’m sorry, did you say something?”

Another tense silence fell in the air.

“... That isn’t my name.” Its voice was quiet, slightly hoarse but not entirely. Unexpected, considering their length of stay here. His fingers pinched tightly at one of the pages.

“...What do you mean?” He was not going to call them by their Capital name. They had long since lost the right to use it, after rebelling against Panem.

“Dr. Gaul calls me something else.” Coriolanus was going to kill it if they did not clarify.

“And what does she call you?” This was the nicest tone he could muster.

They spoke it once into the air, still looking at him with those dead eyes of theirs. Had Dr. Gaul been so fond of it to have given it an entirely new name? And they accepted and went along with it? That didn’t feel right, from what he’s examined about them so far. They were a rebel, they had fought against a Peacekeeper, they were dragged around the halls bleeding.

And they gave up their old name?

It had shifted out of its cradled position, their legs dangled off the examination table and their arms were placed on their side. Coriolanus could see the patient gown they wore more clearly. It kicked its feet in the air idly, as it waited for his response.

… Do they even know the situation that they’re in?

“...Right. Well, do you know why I’m here?”

“Not really. I’ve never met you before.” Was context clues also something it gave up while in captivity? “I know the guards, and I know Dr. Gaul. I don’t think I know about you,” They’re a prisoner, it’d be counter-intuitive if people were giving them info about every single staff member here. His mask covered the lower half of his face, but he hoped the slight shift of facial muscle was enough to convey that was trying to smile towards them. He walked further into the examination room, closer to where it sat and where the shelves of drugs and medical equipment were lined up. Their stare was burrowing holes into his back, while he shifted around, opening and closing shelves and drawers to check inside for what he needed.

“Well, I am Dr. Gaul’s assistant. You can call me Snow,” He was not giving his first name to a former rebel. “I’m here today because Dr. Gaul is a bit busy today to handle your check-up, so I’ll be filling in her role.” Gloves shifted bottles around, turning them around to read the labels. The disinfectant, cotton swabs, tweezers, needles, rubbing alcohol, syringes, the bite-rag, marker, he had it all except the custom medicine that Dr. Gaul had made for it. In the instructions of how to construct their exam, Dr. Gaul had explicitly mentioned that they were to take specific medication, as they had helped keep it conscious at all times for operations and exams. It was needed so that they’d be able to relay the ratings, which is why Coriolanus was reading yet another prescription bottle in his hands, squinting in frustration.

“It’s this bottle over here.”

A delicate, scarred hand had pointed at another bottle that sat idly on the shelf. Coriolanus turned his head slightly, seeing the subject no longer on the examination table, standing behind him quietly. Not staring at him, they were entirely looking at where their hand pointed. They were only standing just a couple inches away from his body, careful not to touch him as they stood on the tips of their toes to point at the medicine. With this proximity, it was easier for him to get a closer look at them. The stitches on its body were done with thick, prominent threads; there were far more beauty marks he could pick out on their face that the photos didn’t display. The patient gown was made from a material far thinner than he expected, a visible silhouette could be seen from underneath the flimsy cloth. His mouth felt unusually dry.

A cold chill trickled down his spine. He barely noticed them. He doesn’t even think it made a sound when it moved.

“Careful, keep your space from me.” He spoke, a careful warning to their ears and a threatening promise on his. He didn’t want to risk being so close to them like this, he barely knew the extent of how violent the project could possibly be yet. Still, they listened, backing away from him and putting their hand back down to their side. Both it and him stared at each other again, the tense air dancing back inside the room. They looked as if they had wanted to say something, and Coriolanus, internally, felt almost violent for how demure they were being with him. It repulsed him, how it felt almost endearing if he looked at them for a second more.

“Is something wrong?” Eventually he bit the bullet, speaking first between the two of them. He can’t bear another moment of silence with it.

“... I don’t need a bite-rag. I don’t think I really scream much anymore.” They still had an issue with explaining context to him more, he’ll tell Dr. Gaul that needed some work lat– His jaw ticked… Why did he care about your abysmal social skills? It was a captive, it had no one to speak to other than their own captors. Pulling down their prescription from the shelf, a dark, thick liquid, he said in return: “It’s best to have it on hand, just in case you need it. Now, return back to the examination table.” For a split second, he thought he could see their gaze soften at him. Were they seriously entertaining the idea that he was being nice to them? Coriolanus just didn’t want to deal with their sounds while he worked. It’d be like trading one screaming fit for another, for when he had to go on his date with Livia later in the evening.

They nodded, and followed his command, walking back to sit on top of it. Their body was sitting in his direction though, observing, waiting for him. Coriolanus still felt unsure about them, but… it was strange, their obedience. It made him suspicious of its intent with all this. Trailing back to the center of the examination room, he placed all the tools on a metal tray. Pulling out an exam stool from under one of the tables, he set the syringe to the cap of its prescription. He pulled the plunger of the syringe up, watching as the barrel filled up with medicine, until it sat nicely. The needle left smoothly from the cap, and a drop of the liquid dangled at the edge of it. This form of silence he liked far more better.

“...Do you have family, Dr. Snow?”

So close. Coriolanus flicked the needle harshly, the drop hitting somewhere else. He placed the ready syringe down, and picked up the black marker. Turning back towards them, their head rested in their palms, watching him intensely.

“That’s none of your concern. Now please, remove your gown so we can get started on the examination.” Grabbing the stool to pull it underneath him, he got comfortable in the seat while it moved to get up. As their hands reached behind them to undo the tie around their waist first, it still spoke ( much to his chagrin ).

“I was just wondering since Dr. Gaul usually talks whenever she comes to visit.” That explained why their throat was not as hoarse as he was expecting. Dr. Gaul was treating her trials with them as a morning brunch. “She sometimes talks about her day, or talks about her family.” They loosened the tie around their waist, the fabric more flowy around their lower body. Coriolanus stared intently, taking in the first peek of skin. Looking past the scars, despite the stitches pulling at parts of their skin, and the dented scars, their skin looked soft, malleable. They must’ve been popular on weekend nights, back then. Their hands reached up to undo the tie around their collar. Rather than watching him while he worked, it was his turn to watch them. There was that beauty mark on their left acromial. Eyes leisurely trailed back up to their fingers, the smallest note with how it fumbled around behind them to untie the flimsy string. Their movements were clumsy, in his eyes, which almost surprised him. “She likes to talk about her three kids often.”

Coriolanus looked away from their stitched fingers, confusion on his face.

“Dr. Gaul only has two kids.” He’s seen the photos she has in her office. She has two sons, both who have gone on to have families of their own. Not once has she mentioned a third kid, Coriolanus isn’t even sure it was possible at her age. Didn’t menopause usually affect a person’s chances of getting pregnant? Maybe it was a secret child she had abandoned at the maternal ward while dropping off her resignation as an obstetrician.

“No, she has three. She told me their names: Caius, Martius, and Coriolanus.”

Oh.

Oh, now that’s…

“I see. You must be closer to Dr. Gaul than I am.”

He didn’t know what to really say to that. There was really nothing for him to go and argue about, especially with the patient. Coriolanus couldn’t quite outright say that the third child was him, especially when he specifically told them to refer to him by his last name. And if he revealed that this was an entire lie on Dr. Gaul’s end, he wasn’t quite sure how the woman would react for doing so. It wasn’t his place, when he had no idea what Gaul had wanted to achieve. He understood the physical punishment and hypothesis being put upon Project Prometheus, but he had yet to understand where the emotional, and the mental, aspect of this punishment was. Dr. Gaul will tell him if it was needed, or he’ll figure it out based on his own conclusions. That must be one of the purposes Dr. Gaul had assigned this task to him.

“Alright. I’m done.”

Coriolanus blinked. He didn’t even realize he lost focus on them, he let out a small exhale as he lifted himself from the exam stool, marker ready in hand.

“Right, for the next step of this exam, I need to…”

Words trailed off for him.

What an entirely different view it was, from before, looking at them only from the back. From behind, it was just read to him as a large canvas of skin that had already been stained and painted on. Nothing that gave way to what person under the flesh could be. Yet, the front… There was more to regard and take note of, a far more different feeling than just having viewed from the photos alone in the reports. If he were to ignore the marks left on their body, had they stayed perfect from before, he could’ve made the argument about their body being more alluring than the average Capital citizen. That familiar, dry feeling touched his throat again. What a waste, for genes like that to be wasted on a rebel. There were more beauty marks and moles in the front, along with more stitches and scars. Coriolanus could see the surgical scars that were healing between their pectoralis major area. A curiosity rose, questioning how scarred tissue would feel under his gloves. He raised an eyebrow, as his gaze dared to move to a lower section on their body. Must be for easier mapping, that Dr. Gaul decided it was best to have their pubic area shaved clean.

“...Dr. Snow, are you okay?”

His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips under the surgical mask.

“Fine, just thinking about Dr. Gaul’s instructions.” He was going to go insane before he could even head to the fundraiser tonight. Coriolanus reached his free hand out, hovering it over their shoulder area, guiding them to stand closer to the area between the exam table, and his stool. He took note, that despite the way their body has changed since their captivity, their body still held a warmth that radiated off from their skin. “Stand here, please. For this next step, I’ll be using this marker here to map out the different muscles and areas on your body. Are you familiar with this?”

The subject nodded, a yes from their lips.

Good.

The sound of the marker cap popping off filled in the lack of words on Coriolanus’s part, the black cap falling on the tiled floor and rolling off to a dark, distant corner of the room. “For today, we’ll only be focusing on the external pain chart. Meaning skin surface only,” He lifted the subject’s hair, pushing up against the subject’s head, strands that were long enough to block full access to the neck. Bringing the marker up, he pressed down the chiseled tip of alcoholic ink on the subject’s skin, making the first section of dotted lines. Writing on their skin in careful, small letters, the areas that compromised their neck; the semispinalis capitis, the levator scapulae, the rhomboid minor–

“How long have you worked for Dr. Gaul?”

Fingers nearly stumbled in drawing when the muscle stretched in movement, he lifted the marker carefully away from its skin. The idea of putting in Gaul’s suggestion box the order of a mouth gag was becoming all the more tempting to him.

“It doesn’t concern you.” Coriolanus responded, coolly.

He pressed the marker back down on its skin, moving himself to the anterior of its body. Between his gloved fingers, he held their chin. The muscle limp in his hands, letting him lift their chin up to show more, exposing the unfolded expanse of their skin. The project was an annoying one, but at the least,they were a pliant one. The black dotted lines drew itself across the subject’s body: the sternocleidomastoid, the sternohyoid–

“How has your day been so far, Dr. Snow?”

Would Dr. Gaul throw him to the curb if he strangled one of her projects?

Coriolanus lifted himself slightly from his leaned down angle, his fingers that once lifted its chin up, had pulled their chin back down to look at him eye to eye. Its gaze stared back at him with such emptiness, a lack of anything to be seen, no anger, no defiance, no discomfort, not even joy. His eyebrows narrowed down slightly as he took in the face that held no question to how, and what, manner he held their body in. Were they trying to please him? Make his guard drop down by asking questions, hoping that he’d become more sympathetic towards them?

“Dr. Gaul isn’t here. You are under no requirement to attempt conversations like you’ve done with her.” He spoke, trying his best attempt at sounding sympathetic to their ears. That would be the easiest explanation. The soul of them was sucked out by Dr. Gaul forcing them into an illusion of a grotesque socialite. That’d explain away the project’s incessant speaking.

Yet, the subject had tilted their head under his fingers. The slightest push against his grasp.

“... Do you not like talking, Dr. Snow? Dr. Gaul always looks so happy when she’s talking.”

So they were trying to suck up to him. He locked his teeth. And to think, he was giving them a chance of redemption, by assuming that they had been conditioned to engage in meaningless conversation. Maybe he was wrong about their obedience. There was still a spark of a rebel within them regardless of their time, their experiences, in captivity.

“I only ever see Dr. Gaul, so I got excited to see someone new. I’m sorry for upsetting you,”

They could’ve fooled him with that tone of voice. They sounded as dead as their eyes had looked. Yet, Coriolanus bit his bottom lip as the doubt touched his head; the subject’s stare, if he gazed deeply enough he felt as if he could almost make out a sullenness to them. Were they legitimately apologetic? He didn’t want to even know the answer, he just wanted to finish this job as quickly as possible. He let go of their chin, releasing it. Gloved fingers now traced the space between their shoulder and collarbone, the subject angling their neck to the other side to give him room. He brought the marker back down to their skin, more dotted lines appearing under his wake.

“... What exactly is your relationship to Dr. Gaul, if I may ask?” He hated them, he decided. He hated how quickly they managed to rope him into this dumb small talk. It was almost audible, the sound of the subject blinking, feeling their gaze boring under the layers of his clothes. Did he say the wrong thing? Did they not want conversation? He adjusted the weight of his stance, uncomfortable under the silence the subject had unwillingly placed him in. Was he not doing what they wanted, was that not enough for them?

“Dr. Gaul is…” Their words trailed off. They were trying to find the words, unsure of what to say to him. They most likely didn’t want to try and insult her, considering her assistant was in the room with them. They don’t want to risk possibly earning more punishment. Project Prometheus may have been smarter than what he initially assumed. Coriolanus moved back to the posterior, hands trailed themselves across the subject’s shoulders, feeling, to remind him of the muscle underneath before he marked it down. Trapezius.

“Dr. Gaul is my caretaker, I think.”

Well isn’t that something unique.

If the subject had decided to say captor, overseer, punisher, he wouldn’t have cared. It would’ve been honest. Caretaker? That was something different, that was something sympathetic. The thought of them turning this twisted dynamic into something heartfelt, fell sour on his tongue. It made him feel repulsion towards them. Why bother to lie? “Tell me about that.” His voice was soft, inviting the project to open themselves to him. As the marker continued to mark their skin, Coriolanus took one of its arms under his hand. The subject’s fingers twitched slightly, when he brought his hand under theirs. Their hand was not that big in comparison to his own, unable to fully fill out of his palm. The fingertips were usually the more sensitive parts, when it came to sensations. He hummed. Adductor pollicis.

“...I’m not sure how to describe it well.” They sounded unsure. Spending this extended amount of time with them, Coriolanus could make out the slight tonal differences they had in their voice. It was very small, though. The muscles in his hands seem to slightly tense.

“Do your best for me.”

Their fingertips, the slightly yellowed nails, tapped slightly at the latex material of his gloves. Almost as if fidgeting to gather the words, the right ones, to say to him.

“Dr. Gaul has always been… someone there, I suppose.” Because she has to. “The guards are there too, but they don’t really notice me in the way Dr. Gaul does.” He wrote down on another part of the subject’s arm, drawing another dotted line. Brachioradialis. “Even though the tests kind of hurt, but I’m getting used to it now, she’s been the only one so far to give me a name, a birthday, check up on me, tell me about her day,” He was almost impressed at how their were trying to upsell the ‘normalcy’ of their captivity. A new name and birthday? Maybe the secret third child of Dr. Gaul wasn’t him, but actually them instead. He almost laughed aloud at the prospect of it. Coriolanus turns to the other side of their body, taking the other arm of the subject to write on after finishing the other. Biceps brachii. “That’s like a caretaker, right?” And now it was asking for his confirmation? It truly does want to appease him. He let out another hum, as if he was thinking to himself when he was going to go along with their delusions. “It sounds like Dr. Gaul cares a great deal for you.” He lied to them.

Making his back to the anterior of the subject’s body, he stood in front of them, the subject tilting their head up to him. Project Prometheus was shorter, in comparison to him, standing at eye level against his chest. Latex touched the area of the linea alba, Coriolanus kept his gaze steady on them and they did the same. There was a silence that fell between them, but it felt so uninviting to him now that he finally had it. The subject still held their indifference, their apathy, and he wanted to know why it bothered him so much when he should like how easy of a prisoner they were being. No, there had to be something more. There was always something more. His fingers dragged down their skin, and his marker followed behind, writing down the names of the muscles he touched. The subject had moved their arms, and Coriolanus tensed for a second, thinking they were finally going to react, going to grab him, hit him, something – yet, their arms shifted away from the angle of his body, moving in to hold the muscles of the pectoralis major up in their hands, cupping them. They were making more room for him to write on their upper abdomen.

Coriolanus loathed them.

Had he had half the control, he would’ve smacked the stitched hands away. He liked it far more when they acted like a ragdoll, instead of this game of pacification it was trying to play. Writing down on the external oblique aponeurosis, he brought his hands back up their skin until it rested under their wrists. He held both their wrists on either hand. “Please, bring your hands down so I can continue mapping.” The words came out more as a whisper than he had intended. They instantly had listened to his command, letting their arms fall back on either side and their chest exposed to him. His eyes lingered briefly on the sight, taking in the small details that made the subject unique. The beauty mark on their left mammary gland, now in his line of sight. No longer blocked by the limit of only just a photo. There was that dry feeling in his mouth again.

Carefully, bringing a hand up, gauging their reaction, he held one of the mammary glands in his free hand and a marker up in the other. Judging their face, they seemed neutral, no frown or smile, no wrinkle, no squint. He could assume there must have been discomfort under those dark pits for eyes. He knew that’s what he felt, doing this right now. Coriolanus wondered if it would have been better or worse, if Project Prometheus were to be more… reactionary.

“Let me know if anything bothers you.” Dotted lines followed after his hand. He’d take it, the laborious small talk. It was much more preferred right now than this tortuous silence that had fallen between them. Thick and constricting, had it gone on any longer, Coriolanus knew he would drive himself internally insane if he was to be left alone to his own thoughts. If Project Prometheus had done nothing while he was holding onto their very own breasts in his hands. Had it been any other person, they would’ve squirmed under his touch. Possibly even a twitch to unconsciously move away, as the marker moved against the skin of the areola. The mapping of the right gland was dotted and marked completely.

“You don’t bother me.”

Now, that felt deliberate.

Ink halted, stopping after writing out the final letter of the pectoralis minor. The words were written next to the beauty mark he had noted before. Coriolanus was tempted to make dotted lines around the area, as a place of special interest, though marks like these were no major muscle or nerve. Blue eyes had looked up through thick lashes, he slightly lifted his craned head up to get a better look at the subject. Peering towards their face, he didn’t know why he expected anything different. It was the same look of disinterest, the broken lights hung above them casted a haunting shadow over their face. Did he also look similar, when they stared back at him? In certain angles, despite the unnerving look the room had given them, Coriolanus might’ve thought their eyes seemed naturally soft towards him. Innocent, maybe.

Did they see nothing wrong with what he was doing? … Or had all the tests and operations ruined not just their nerves, but fried them, that their sense of danger seemed near non-existent?

Was this another form of appeasement that it was trying to pull on him?

Unconsciously, his hands had released themselves, finally, from holding onto Project’s Prometheus’s breasts. Both now marked, his free hand slid down the expanse of their abdomen. The ridges and bumps of their scars and stitches were felt briefly, the full grasp of the sensation blocked by the barrier of latex rubber wrapped around his fingers. Not once did he look away from the subject as his hands made its way down, and neither did Project Prometheus. His hand stopped at the tensor fasciae latae. Something was wrapping itself around the cavity of his chest, making the activity of breathing a difficult feat for him to do. Coriolanus didn’t know what he was doing. Was he trying to garner a bigger reaction from it? An attempt of possibly stirring violence, even?

Maybe it was delaying his own discomfort, he realized. Looking down, he stared to see the spread of skin below that had no splotches of black ink. They were shorter than him, he’d have to get down on his knees if he wanted to have clear and easy access to mark its legs. How humiliating… Having risen up through the ranks and bringing the Snow family back to its rightful place of acclaim and fortune; only to fall back down on his knees to a prisoner, a former rebel. If the other families caught wind of this, he’d never hear the end of it.

Reluctantly, still holding onto their hip, his body moved itself to the floor. Knees touched against the uneven grout of the tiles, the position a bit awkward. He was thankful, for the surgical gown he wore, that the vile floor of the examination room wouldn’t stain against his clothes. Tracing his hand down to the stitch mark path of their leg, he rested it at the back of their thigh. Coriolanus tilted his head up, ready to command that Project Prometheus moved their leg more towards him. But, his words fell into a silent, held breath as he gazed up at them from his position. The shadow that had cascaded over their face briefly from before was now entirely enveloped around their body. Sickly green fluorescent lights shone above their head, akin to a haloing effect. Illuminated around the edges of their body, their hair, the subject still looking at him. Only him, and nothing else. A thrumming noise was loud in his ears; it felt dangerous. It felt like a warning that something was wrong here. He had felt it before.

Project Prometheus moved its leg forward, more into him, without a word ever spoken between the two of them. How pliant it was with him.

He pressed the marker against their skin as thank you, dipping his head back down to their thigh. It would be risky, if he lost focus. There was still so much he had yet to know of the subject, the layers that were contained behind the flimsy shield of flesh and tissue. He dotted the area of the vastus medialis, careful not to press the ink against the subject’s stitches so as not to irritate the healing skin there. Maybe its attempts of appeasement were working on him. Not once did he think he’d have a shred of enough care to think about the possibility of ink seeping into their wounds.

He marked down the region of the knee. Patella.

“...You’re a very gentle person, Dr. Snow.” The subject spoke quietly, in a whisper just loud for him to hear. “You treat me so carefully, I barely feel a thing when you hold me.”

It mistook his lightweight hands for kindness. Reality was that he was just wary about setting them off.

“Does Dr. Gaul not treat you in the same manner?” The words came out softly from him. Reaching now the ankle of the subject, gloved hands reached down underneath the sole of its foot, lifting it up for better writing access. Instinctively, Project Prometheus placed their hands on either side of his shoulders so as to not fall. Their body leaned itself more into him, using him as a steady weight of support. The proximity of their small body bent over his, the glare of the fluorescent lights was entirely swallowed up, casting a dark shadow over him, blocking the light from reaching him. Could they feel, under their ragged fingers, the tenseness in his body at their action? If the subject wanted to, they could easily go in to attack him in this vulnerable position. He’d do the same if he was in their position. He continued to write, marker steady in hand. There would be no satisfaction to be gained for the subject, in seeing him stumble and cower.

He wrote the words ‘abductor hallucis’ on their foot.

“She… does not treat me rough, no. If I had to describe it, I think the word for it is more… ‘inanimate’.” He doesn’t quite recall if a new law was passed that required captors to treat prisoners humanely. It sounded as if it was trying to recall certain words again. Should the exam go entirely smoothly with no problems, he might feel generous enough to convince Dr. Gaul to bring Project Prometheus a dictionary for them to study up on. Not like it would do much. It wasn’t like they had anyone to really practice their knowledge on.

Coriolanus wondered what the prisoner was exactly before all this, back when they were formerly Capital. They lacked the air of dignity and ignorance that most Capital elites donned well, but maybe that could be attributed to their decay while staying here. Or perhaps the prisoner had come from a small, simple family. The kind that handled all the manual labor that the Capital never liked to speak loud about. The workers who were hardly ever seen, or acknowledged. That could explain why he never heard any recent fuss over a family’s child being ‘sent away’. No one would ever care for a background prop.

It held onto his shoulders more tightly, as he adjusted the subject’s position. It didn’t want to topple over him.

Project Prometheus's right foot now marked accordingly, he placed its foot back down on the rotten floor. Ready to reach his hand to hold onto their left, the subject moved without the need for his touch. The left leg was gestured forward for him. How sweet of them to realize a pattern. “I don’t mind it, though. As long as she still talked to me.” How fascinating. The subject was pacified by the easy act of conversation. Such a simple thing to be pleased by, Coriolanus could think they were joking. Regardless of how things were going so far, he still didn’t forget it. The bloodstains on the halls was something he could not erase so easily. That suggested, no, it told him, that Project Prometheus had something up their sleeve still. Though, nothing had occurred. Nothing had happened because they were still speaking to each other. Coriolanus continued to write on its foot. Lumbrical.

“...Do you get upset if she doesn’t speak to you?”

He couldn’t help but ask.

He wanted to know. He needed to know.

“...I get lonely, and sad.” Was it trying to downplay its emotional reactions to him? “I wonder if it's because I did something wrong to upset her.” If a prisoner of his tried to fight back numerous times during their captivity, he’d get annoyed too. It was strange, though. Coriolanus knew that morals and values were of no concern for Dr. Gaul, especially against rebels. Any torture, punishment, placed on them was not seen as being done onto another person, but just another animal, a specimen in her collection. It would not be above Dr. Gaul to cut off a limb, or two, to get a prisoner to stop fighting. So… why not do the same here? Perhaps, this form of mental and emotional punishment was more lethal than he assumed. Another curious test from the mad woman, it was impossible to ever understand her whims.

“Sometimes, I think it might be one of her tests.”

Coriolanus didn’t say those words.

He didn’t like this. Such a statement, spoken so simply, brought him a sick swirl of unease.

The movement of ink had halted, yet his mind continued to race. The thin hairs at the back of his neck stood at its ends, and he held tightly onto the marker in his hand. Quietly, carefully, he placed the plantar surface of Project Prometheus’s foot back down on the uneven tiles below the both of them. Reaching his hands up to his shoulders, where the subject’s extensor retinaculum were, he held onto it firmly. The subject put up no sign of objection. Sweat was slowly building up under the tight material of the gloves he donned on, but it was not a sweltering warmth. It was a cold, clammy sensation.

“What do you mean by ‘one of her tests’?” Punctuating the words at the end, he kept his tone inquisitive, curious. Perhaps, a dabble of suspicion. Not towards the subject, but more towards the matter. What was needed in this situation was caution, and he’d be a gutted fool if he was to let the rebel become aware of how much the question startled him to his core. For right now, he’d play the gentle, confused assistant that it assumed of him before. He already told the lie of it knowing Dr. Gaul better than he did.

“Her tests,”

It spoke as if he knew! He knew very well what it was. What once was a flash of fear, had become a steady stream of anger. He knew because he is Dr. Gaul’s assistant. It was his job to follow in the steps she’s placed out for him, and more. Why would a prisoner, a subject, know about the ways Dr. Gaul operated? How much does Dr. Gaul tell it in these ‘conversations’?

It made him sick, that the lie he told before could actually become true.

“I never notice it until it’s done, until she tells me at the end. She never shares the results with me.” For once, he is tempted to strip his pride and beg for more details. “Most days, it’ll be physical tests, like today. Others, it’s more… talking, or writing.”

“Writing?”

It came out quickly before he could properly think his words over. He doesn’t recall seeing possible writing exams in Subject A01’s report. To be fair to himself, he did skim it briefly since he was only just now introduced to the project. There wasn’t much time for him to familiarize himself with all the tiny details written inside. At least, the things that were legible.

“Dr. Gaul hands me scraps of paper and just asks me to write what I think. Like uh, a journal…I guess.” Keeping a diary couldn’t be the only test Dr. Gaul was having it do. If writing random streams of thought was enough to be intellectually challenging, he wouldn’t be seeing students at the University fighting to win passing grades. “I don’t understand the reason why, and I never remember what I write. My memory is not the best.” It was giving him an excuse to try and shift the conversation. How funny it was, trying to take control of the situation. He’d never let such a thing happen. In this examination room, there was only one person and a subject, the dynamic that was at play was clear. The grip Coriolanus had on their extensor retinaculum tightened, an unconscious movement on his part. Project Prometheus had taken in a soft breath of air at the action, the sound loud enough between the both of them. Had it not come from a prisoner, what a sweet sound it could’ve been.

“Could you explain it to me,” His voice came out softly, despite the gnawing irritation that he held back. The tight grasp he had loosened, one hand stroking down a careful thumb down the stitched wrist of the subject in gentle circles. He shifted in his kneeled position, adjusting to a more comfortable weight as the layers he wore started to wear at him, an uncomfortable shift. Wearing the surgical uniform could be sweltering. Tilting his head up slightly to gaze up at the subject, praying that his eyes did not betray and reveal his inner thoughts. “Try to remember.”

Coriolanus could’ve sworn he saw a slight falter, a tremble, in the dark optics of Project Prometheus. Its supercilium furrowed just the slightest inch upwards; did it look apologetic? The first visible change of expression he’s witnessed in the time he’s spent here in this examination room, and it’s one of regret. The subject’s fingers twisted itself into the fabric of his surgical gown, opening its mouth partially as they sought the right sound, the right word. He could make out the faint peeks of its canines.

“... I’m sorry, Dr. Snow. I can’t remember at all,” They breathed out, in admission, surrendering. It treated it as a guilty confession.

“Not a thing?” He whispered softly to them, prompting them to speak more. Coriolanus applauded himself internally, for how sympathetic he sounded.

The subject shook its head.

“My memory is not good.” Again, it reaffirmed its previous statement.

Was his question that hard? Surely, specks of small details, flashes of imagery, that would be sufficient enough of an answer for him. He wasn’t asking for a full essay of their inner workings ( though, he wouldn’t mind it ). However, as both their eyes continued locked in a stare, his thumb slowed its movements. The leathered finger stopping at the center junction of its stitches, the feel of the raised, textured skin apparent under the feel of the material. Project Prometheus was being sincere. Its face hadn’t changed, its body had not moved away from him. Dare he say, the minimal space between them; something he did not mind earlier before, had become much more apparent in his feverish mind. The subject answered him so honestly, it made his suspicions of before seem so ridiculous now. One thing did nag at him though, the writing, the insistence of journaling, the memory.

…

“... Do you remember how long you’ve been here?” Two years ago, Coriolanus recalled. Two years ago, that was when he was abandoned in District 12. When Dr. Gaul had started the experiment on Subject A01, busying herself with curiosities while he was drowning himself in depravities and vices, waiting out like a dog for some form of mercy to reach him.

A new, tense silence consumed them both. He watched the subject carefully, taking note of the slightest movement that could give any indication of anything more. Tracing with his eyes, following how Project Prometheus’s cuspid snagged at their chapped bottom lip. A faint flush of red spread across the muscle, from the pressure exerted on it. Unconsciously, it reminded him of how dry his own mouth felt, the hoarse sensation in his throat. He darted out his own tongue for a brief moment to wet his own mouth, hidden underneath the surgical mask he wore. Nothing was being said between them, but yet there was so much being told. A fierce feeling was soaring, running through the veins of Coriolanus; he knew what it meant and he feared for it. Not for what the answer could be, but what it possibly could bring up.

“You don’t remember how you got it here at all, do you?” His voice was so hushed, spoken as if taboo. It gave him the same feeling of it, the rush as the blood was entering his head and his heartbeat loud in his ears.

A form of dissociative amnesia.

Project Prometheus had developed gaps in memory due to an extended amount of isolation and exposure to severe trauma. It all clicked in Coriolanus’s head. He understood now what Dr. Gaul was attempting to achieve in her games with the subject. The tests, the daily conversations, the journal writing – Dr. Gaul was examining the subject’s mental decay as part of the Project’s ongoing research. Not only has the woman deteriorated and changed the way the prisoner’s nerves had worked, but their mind as well. Is continuing the Project even viable to do anymore? It was a form of punishment. Would it be ethical to operate on a being of flesh, when the subject no longer knew what it was being punished for? The question would most likely give Dr. Gaul a kick of joy. She loved to ponder questions worthy of debate. Coriolanus wouldn’t put it past the woman if she already gave the inquiry out to one of her classes in a lecture hall.

“I vaguely do,”

His eyebrows rose in interest.

“But only in subtle feelings.”

Nevermind.

“I think I experienced some form of confusion. And bits of anger, too. Dr. Gaul… For a moment, I used to be so scared of her. Now, I can’t even remember the reason why.”

Project Prometheus’s indifference, Coriolanus realized, it was not just solely based on apathy. What had become of it was a blank state, unsure of how to process things so the mind refused to process it all. But, it was still something highly susceptible to influences, shown in how Project Prometheus had become conditioned like Pavolv Dog, to associate Dr. Gaul’s silence with anger and disappointment, and her socialness with satisfaction and joy. It all was dawning on him. He could see it now, why Dr. Gaul was so disturbingly fascinated by this project. Gloved hands moved away from the subject’s wrist, and reached out to lay in gentle manner against the side of their bare thighs. The subject allowed him to, never raising a sign of objection. Could he teach it to experience anger once more, when he treated their body like this? Maybe discomfort, disgust, despair - he wanted to show their blank canvas of a mind what it felt like to fully immerse themselves in these ugly emotions. He knew why they were like this, but there still was a lingering crumb of vexation directed at the subject. Somehow, in their newfound state, they still felt far more free than he ever did; how they almost felt nothing, and he had to feel everything.

And yet, there was another thought that touched him. He wondered, if he spent enough time with the subject, could he too, be able to condition them to other things. They thought of him as merciful, kind, in comparison to Dr. Gaul. Could he make Project Prometheus worship him, and in the same quiet breaths they were fond of, resent him? The thought of making them accustomed to anticipating his attendance, and lamenting his absence sounded tempting.

How nice it would be, to have someone other than a deranged crone enjoy his presence.

Tigris certainly didn’t anymore.

Coriolanus rose himself from the ground, gripping on the meat of Project’s Prometheus’s flesh to lift him. Under his touch, the pliant stretch of skin and tissue made the subject remove their hands from his shoulders. Another faint breath escaped their exhale. It was a sound he was slowly getting used to. Back to their original height difference, he no longer had to crane his head up to look at the subject. The subject had to lift their head up to look up at him, now. What did Project Prometheus see, in their gaze as they stared at him, Coriolanus thought. Was he too, consumed in shadow and bathed under the gritty lights of the examination room like they once had?

“We’re done with the mark-up.” It took him a moment to move away from the subject. “We’ll move to holding the nerve exam now, after I administer a low dosage of your medication.”

The uncapped, black marker was placed back down on the metal tray, aside from the examination table. Replacing its empty space was now the syringe he had filled out before, the dark color swishing as he picked it up. The needle gleamed under the fluorescent light. Turning his back around, Project Prometheus had already sat themselves up nicely on the edge of the examination table for him. Their legs dangled off, their hands held at the edges of the worn-out leather cushion, eyes fixated on his person. They were waiting for him. He’s almost bothered, how easily the subject could anticipate his next set of commands. He hoped that this was just due to routine, not because he had become easy to read. Coming up to meet them there, the only sound that filled the air was the sole of his shoes stepping against the tiles. Gloved fingers reached to grab at the jaw of Project Prometheus, the syringe held close to their face. It shone particularly brilliant, mere inches away from their face. The subject showed him no fear, no resistance, despite the way the skin of the cheeks had moved under his grasp.

Already, he wanted to break them.

“Show me where to inject you.”

He’d be sweet, Coriolanus would let them pick where it was most comfortable for him to inject the medication in. Project Prometheus complied immediately to him, holding on the hand that held their needle to adjust the position. They guided him to the back of their neck, moving their hair to make space. To reward their compliance, he pricked the syringe quickly under the skin, careful not to touch an artery or nerve. The dark liquid inside the barrel slowly filled out, emptying itself as he pushed the plunger down. The subject did not let out a sound, a favorable contrast to Livia, who waited for him outside these Citadel walls.

He was going to mold them into something useful.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosas fic #thg series #thg fic #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #volumnia gaul #tw medical #medical horror #fanfic #.// ♡ basil's archive #. // ♡ rubatosis series #its insane how much i wrote for this first chapter lmao #its like 30 pages on google docs #i am obsessed with this man #i really wanted this chapter to be a focus of snow & reader building their dynamic and bond before we jump off the deep end #i am really excited to write the coming chapters

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bearlythere · 25 days

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will not shut up about how bluey's 30 min episode gave us so much more lore and references to the real world

the writes really made so much literal and euphemistic use of the word "sign" in this episode

in chronological order! and spoilers below!!

do let me know if I missed anything out!

FRISKY AND RAD'S WEDDING!!!! in the iconic heeler house!!

bandit's bully bucky dunstan being the real estate agent selling his house

English sheepdog buying the bluey house (emigration - would be nicer if they got english voice actors to voice them though)

the bluey house was actually for sale on an Australian real estate website! and as per the time of writing this post, it's been "withdrawn from sale" - the bluey digital marketing team AMAZES ME.

I wonder which city bandit got a new job in - don't know if they'll explore that in future seasons

bluey's friend the brown dog (I'm sorry I don't know his name) having 2 mums!

winton talking about his divorced parents and the terriers' saying their mom likes winton's dad!!!

jack and his army interest! him and rusty playing army!!

the sitting in a tree, kissing thing that kids do

Jeremy the gnome

bobo being the car's name

frisky's licence plate being fr15k

the first time kids sit in the front seat of the car

police officers pulling people on the road over LMAO

rad's profile picture being him goofing around with his 2 brothers

how realistic it is trying not to lose someone you're following on the road

the butterfly from slide!! 🦋 it has a name! flappy!

everyone being afraid of the butterfly except bingo because we know she loves insects!

chilli reminiscing how she and frisky used to go to the lookout to "think" when we all knew she meant drink LOL

frisky's 3rd friend appears!

BRANDY IS PREGNANT???

the canon in d rendition as bgm

the busker being the priest??

also they got mort and maynard to come attend the wedding too!!

frisky's father is a typical surfer dude lmao

we see trixie standing amongst the girls during the bouquet toss. and then we see stripe come in to intercept the toss. does this mean that stripe and trixie are not married yet and have just been cohabitating? stripe grabs the bouquet and celebrates, but we see trixie face palm... what does this mean??

love the photo montage and the huge family photo, how it shows that you can't get everybody to be ready for the photo

AFTERPARTY

GRANDPA BOB WENT TO INDIA TO FIND HIMSELF 😭 man needed spiritual rediscovery

the busker is the music dj too!!

uh oh... stripe and trixie are fighting... perhaps it was about the bouquet toss? and we see socks playing with the cake toppers - possibly mimicking her parents actions

awww Radley quit his job so that frisky could stay in a city she loved ❤️

they brought back the music from dance mode!

NANA AND BOB FLOSSING!!!

chattermax randomly appearing 😭

bingo getting stuck in the railing again

bingo being sad because she has to move and lila won't be able to follow. which is also the moment I realised they won't be moving in the end, because of the montage at the end of daddy drop-off episode where bingo and lila grow up together and be friends "forever and ever and ever"!

the 2 English sheepdogs pushing their fluff away from their eyes to see haha

THEM SEEING WINTON'S DAD'S HOUSE WITH A POOL WHICH IS FOR SALE BECAUSE THEYRE MOVING IN WITH THE TERRIERS AND THEIR MOTHER!! THEY ALL FIT IN ONE CAR!!!

seeing the iconic bluey house empty, with spots where furniture used to be somehow makes me feel a little empty and nostalgic

the montage of them saying goodbye to their old neighbours, bandit having one last chat with pat, the girls and chilli saying goodbye to judo and her mum

Judo still has short hair!

chilli reminiscing the kitchen because bluey took her first steps there

WHO SANG THAT SONG IN THE END PLEASE RELEASE IT LUDO STUDIOS

THE SHEEPDOGS WENT BACK ON THEIR DECISION TO BUY BLUEYS HOUSE TO BUY WINTON'S DAD HOUSE

you can tell how much chilli didn't want to move as she was the first one out of the car running over to hug him when she realised bandit didn't want to sell the house anymore. and the shoulder shakes shows that she was fully sobbing too

iconic kiwi rug! loved the simplicity of the last scene, where even if there's nothing around you, as long as you're together with the people you love, eating the simplest meal, enjoying the moment, that's family.

#bear watches #bluey #bluey cartoon #the sign

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14buddy22 · 7 months

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Okay, so remember when Aaron’s hot young brother came to visit? What if he tried to hit on Aaron’s wife because Aaron is soo secretive and hasn’t told anyone he’s married.

In this.... Haley and Jack DONT exist.

Aaron Hotchner doesn't wear his wedding ring at work. He'll wear it when he's with you, but never at work. It was something he felt like he could do to protect you and his family from a potential unsub.

While he never wore it at work, he always had a small picture of you and the kids in his wallet. He also had a small tattoo of your children's initials over his heart. When he went for a pool day at Rossi's he always made sure to cover it up.

He wasn't ashamed he was married to you, he also wasn't ashamed to be a father to his two children, but he wanted to protect him. So, when you and Aaron started dating, he vowed he'd keep you and your twins a secret in his work life.

You were a single mom to twins when you met Aaron, your twins just a year old at the time. You were trying to get your daughter to stop crying at the restaurant and then your son was making a mess. Just as your daughter had stopped crying, your son had some how hit the table hard enough to spill the water near you, causing you to become soaked and a stranger sitting at the table across from you coming over to help get you napkins.

You swore it was love at first sight. He introduced himself and then proceeded to tell you that he was an FBI agent when you questioned how he was so good with kids as he quickly was trying to make your daughter laugh while you were cleaning up your son and the mess.

When the mess was cleaned up, you profusely thanked him, saying something along the lines of how hard it is as a single mom trying to entertain one kid, the other does something up to no good.

He knew it had to take his shot. This could be his future family if he played his cards right. You were gorgeous and your kids were adorable.

As he asked for your number, you blushed giving it to him. He made a promise he'd call you when he got back to work so that you'd have his number.

A few dates after that phone call solidified your love for Aaron. You know it was quick, but he was so good, so understanding. You had a sitter cancel on your 3rd date and he dropped all the plans he had and came over to your apartment, opting for a movie night and a home cooked meal instead.

When you two got married, it was just a small wedding. Your parents and siblings, your kids, and your best friend. He had talked about keeping you and your kids a secret, not wanting an unsub to know you exist in his life and could be used against Aaron.

Your kids were almost 4 now, 3 years of knowing Aaron was the best 3 years of your life. He was the perfect husband, the perfect father.

After getting a call from the preschool that your twins attended saying they were sick, you picked them up, trying to call Aaron. When he didn't answer, you knew you had to go to the bureau.

Your twins were not angels when they were sick and you knew it was hard when your daughter was attached to Aaron. It's why they called Aaron first at preschool because your daughter kept asking, but they had to call you when he didn't answer.

As you made your way to his unit, you saw someone sitting outside the doors. As you sat down next to him, you heard him say, "Your kids are cute."

"Thank you."

"Makes sense when they get their looks from you."

You knew you weren't wearing your wedding ring in visible sight, so you knew that the unsolicited flirting was going to happen.

"Is this the waiting line?"

"Yeah, my brother is a very popular person apparently."

"I understand."

You chuckled and you began to run your hands through your son's hair, getting him to lie down next to you on the bench.

"Being a single mom must be tough, I'm good with kids, my little cousins love me."

Just before you had time to respond, you saw Aaron appear. Your kids yelling, "Daddy!"

The man looked at you and said, "You're married to him?"

Aaron said, "Sean, this is my wife, Y/n. Our kids y/d/n and y/s/n. Y/n, this is my little brother, Sean."

"Wife?"

Except it wasn't just Sean's voice. It was a group of people that you assumed to be Aaron's team. Everyone who he always talks about at work, that you've seen pictures and videos of, but never could meet them because you talked about the nature of his job and wanting to keep you and the kids safe.

"Sir, how long have you been holding out on us?"

Aaron looked at you and said, "Almost 3 years."

You wanted to laugh at the looks of the people's faces surrounding you, then you heard the comment from your husband.

"Sean, can you please assume someone isn't a single mom before you begin flirting with them."

You chuckled at that. It was harmless flirting, but still funny. It's also good to know that you could still pull men if something were to ever happen to you and Aaron.

You spoke up, "We owe you all a dinner and an explanation, but, we have two sick kids that we have to get home. I'll have Aaron set up a time and date for when you can come over and ask all the questions you want."

Someone came up and hugged you and said, "I can't believe you're real. We knew he had to be dating someone, but married to someone hot like you! It's like our wildest dreams. Sir! She's a good one."

"Y/n, that would be Penelope."

"I've heard a lot about you. Thanks for brightening up my husband's office."

She hugged you tighter at that.

While you waited for your husband to finish talking with his brother, you made your way to a desk chair and talked with his coworkers for a few minutes.

After leaving the office, you knew that you had a new family who would protect you with everything they had. Aaron wouldn’t be mad. He was more mad that his younger brother was hitting on you, especially since he was already so insecure of himself.

However, when you got home and got the kids down for a nap, you made sure to show Aaron how much he really means to you and how he doesn’t need to be so insecure. He was the only guy you had eyes for.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x single mom!reader

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agendabymooner · 11 months

Text

mamma mia (again) ! daniel r. x ofc (måneskin member! ofc)

“they ask me why i’m so hot, ‘cause i’m italiano.”

summary: a series of video clips, but it’s only just danny ric being in love with a certain lester alessandro.

content warning: hint or two of suggestive comments (nothing detailed or graphic), use of explicit language, filler blurb or something, danny being a simp for few videos straight (“have my kids” type beat), lester being an etsy and pinterest enthusiast, literally posted this blurb from my phone so they’re crazy about their image limits 😩

note: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE 105 FOLLOWERS?! UHM? seriously, i’ve never been so happy. i honestly only started posting these because i have them ingrained in my brain and won’t let go until i write or make something. just indulging my imagination you know? enjoy xx

masterlist

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐁𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐏

【VIDEO ONE — daniel ricciardo is a gatekeeper】

[1st image: yeah, i dunno. everyone just found out that i made it official with my girlfriend and i’m pretty sure i just saw lando weeping in his room. max was the second to react to it and i’m so sure he recoiled. he did say that he didn't want to know what happened in imola few months ago.]

[2nd: interviewer: what happened in imola few months ago? daniel: *chuckles* wouldn’t you like to know - nah, i’m messing about. nothing happened in imola besides from me retiring to my bed early. i think we were both drunk when i posted that photo and i know it looks lewd but there's no way we could've done anything questionable.]

[3rd: d: but yeah. we didn't really want to catch that much attention until maybe i don't know... when we're married or something *chuckles* i: keep it a secret until the wedding? d: yeah. but charles, the absolute fool, posted videos during the concert with me in the background. It would've been real nice if no one caught onto it until we had a mini ric running and racing, you know? just to wreak havoc.]

【VIDEO TWO — daniel ricciardo talks about lester’s love language in his gq video】

[1st: i got this journal from lori. it has my initials "DR" on it for daniel ricciardo*laughs* it's one of those many first gifts that i’ve gotten from her throughout our first few months of dating. her love language isn't just shitting on my life -she has every single aspect of love language within her and this is one of them.]

[2nd: when she gave this to me, all she said was "you can write out your thoughts if you can't let them out through your mouth. *giggles* "she clearly had her thoughts sorted out that time especially when she showed me a page with an embossed phrase or nickname, "tasso di miele" - it means honey badger. she apparently bought the custom embosser from etsy and almost fought tooth and nail just to get it in time. *laughs even more* i love her so much, i honestly wanted to cry that day.]

[3rd: lori actually has a laptop with *laughs* itunes on it and she still got some playlists from 2010-2014? yeah. she’s put a lot of old taylor swift songs in my ipod during the christmas break. my favourite album right now is speak now. she loves red.]

【VIDEO THREE — lester hates ashy hands confirmed】

[1st: daniel: i think i should just cover my hands with gloves all the time. lando: that literally has nothing to do with anything that we're about to do. d: lori tells me that my hands are rough whenever she holds them.]

[2nd: l: or you know... you can just use a hand lotion all the time because your hands dry up real fast? d: ah that's true. i wonder if that's why lori just casually put a bottle of hand cream on my travel bag. the thing smells nice though. it’s chamomile.]

【VIDEO FOUR — it’s okay to spoil your partner; even if it’s an accent chair from her pinterest board】

[1st: d: lori just sent me a picture of an armchair from ikea. l: why was she randomly in ikea, by the way? I saw the text. d: window shopping. but anyway, she saw this armchair that she had on her pinterest board. she asked "pretty or no?" with the green velvet chair. l: what did you tell her?]

[2nd: word to word? I texted her "LOL you should see the accent chair I've gotten you for our flat in monaco." l: are you serious? *laughs* d: she wouldn't tell me what she wanted for her birthday. I only got a brief idea when she left her phone in my pocket once and gave me a free access to her pinterest boards.]

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orderforbrian · 1 year

Text

Day 6 - Time Travel for @jonmartinweek!

im late again but only bc i drew waayyy too much for this lol - i couldnt help it tho i really love those kid-centric aus where jon and martin's future kids come visit their s1 selves - they're just full of so many cute moments and little jokes 🤭 i'm also just a sucker for anything jmart kid related. plus watching s1 jon and martin, who have budged hardly an inch past absolute loathing, grapple with the fact they not only get married in the future but have KIDS too is soooooooo good 😆they get to talking and realize "oh god you really are my ideal partner ohno OHHH NOO"

[Start ID: Multiple images of Jon and Martin from The Magnus Archives as well as their future children for an AU. Jon is a thin Persian man with dark, curly hair streaked with grey and rectangular glasses. Martin is a fat, mixed Polish/Korean man with dark brown, wavy hair, browline glasses, and a beauty mark by his lip. 1st image: Jon and Martin are sitting at a wedding table decorated with flowers, a plate with half eaten cake, and a green napkin. Jon is wearing a white shirt with a dark green bowtie, his hair is slicked back into a low bun with some styled stray hairs. His black suit jacket covers the chair behind him. He has light beard and a gold column earring. Martin is wearing a white shirt with a dark blue bowtie, his hair is styled back as well and he wears a gold diamond drop earring. They sit side by side, noses almost touching - Jon smiles wholesomely at Martin, holding up a coupe glass of champagne, and Martin smiles back with his eyes closed, left hand resting around the base of his own coupe glass. Jon's left hand sits on top of Martin's, each hand has a gold band on the ring finger. The drawing looks like a polaroid, Jon's handwriting at the bottom says "Jonathan and Martin Blackwood-Sims. June 27th, 2023." Martin has placed a red heart sticker and written "J+M" in blue marker on the photo. 2nd image: Jon and Martin are older and pose with their children on their backs. Their children, Mina and Jules, have dark, curly hair like Jon's, Mina has a beauty mark by his right eye and Jules has one on her left lower cheek. In this image Mina has her hair tied back into two pigtails and is smiling with one tooth gone. She wears overalls with a scalloped shirt, a sensory bracelet on her right wrist, and sneakers. She is riding on Martin's back, gripping his shirt with one hand and lifting up the other one behind his head, laughing loudly. Martin side eyes her with mirth, his hair is more choppy and down past his shoulders, he has a patchy beard, and wears a simple lined shirt. In this image, Jules has her hair tied back into a ponytail and is wearing a t-shirt, jean shorts and sneakers with a star on them. She sticks her tongue out towards the camera and winks one eye, both her arms are laced around Jon's neck. Jon's hair is past his ears and he has a fully grown mustache and beard, he wears a collared short sleeve shirt. Underneath ths photo Jon writes "Picnic after 2nd year primary. Mina (7) Jules (8)." Martin has drawn a yellow sun and written in blue marker "too old!!" and a crying face. 3rd image: Mina and Jules (off frame) hold up multiple photographs to younger Jon and Martin (season 1). Martin is wearing a collared shirt and his hair is side parted, cut just past his ears. Jon has his hair slicked back aside from a couple large curls at the front and wears a suit jacket, collared shirt, tie, and vest. Martin and Jon stare down at the photos with flustered surprise, confusion, and disbelief, both blushing. Martin pinches one of the photos with his right hand. Jon holds his glasses in his right hand.

4th image is a 7 panel comic. Mina and Jules both wear glasses and school uniforms with a backpack, Mina wearing a tie and vest, her hair done in two braids, and Jules wearing a collared shirt and tie, her hair in a bob with two clips. 1st panel: Jules outstretches her hand while looking angry at Mina who is looking away with a huff. "We would've gotten here way sooner if you didn't have to stop and pet that dumb dog!!". 2nd panel: Jon crosses his arms and sneers at Martin, who is looking unimpressed and annoyed and holding a tea mug. "They get that from you...". 3rd panel: Mina points at Jules and retorts "Well if you weren't so impatient we wouldn't have gotten caught, stupid!!". 4th panel: Martin lifts up the tea mug to take a sip and shoots back to Jon, who frowns, "They get that from you...". 5th panel: Mina and Jules yell at each other with closed eyes and hunched shoulders, "UGH!!! WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS ARGUING WITH ME!!!". 6th panel: A simplified drawing of Jon and Martin, one speech bubble connecting both of them saying "They get that from you". 7th panel: Jon and Martin whip around and stare at each other with offended anger, saying "ME?!".

5th image is of Mina and Jules in full color. They have the same descriptions as in the comic, the school uniform is a purple gray, the skirts plaid. Mina wears a green colored sensory bracelet and Jules wears a blue colored one. Mina has a nervous frown, a couple sweat marks coming off her head, while Jules smiles with quiet confidence, a couple gold sparkles by her head. They hold hands in the middle, Jules is slightly taller than Mina. Above Mina are the following words: Mina (Mia) *younger sibling *a bit shy *fave color is green *loves when Dad does her hair. Above Jules are the following words: Julia (Jules) *older (by 11 months) *more adventurous *fave color is blue *loves when Baba buys her ice cream. End ID.]

#jmart #jonmartin #teaholding #jonmartinweek2023 #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #order up! art tag #jmart kids #time travel au #kid au #the magnus archives #tma

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averageallogene · 10 months

Note

You sister, who always have had everything she wanted, isn't happy Ayato chose to marry you.

So, on your wedding day, she sneaks into the groom's preparation room to try and convince him to marry her instead.

Ayato ♡⊹˚ Familial woes (SFW)

fem. reader (3rd person) ; angst with a good ending. cw for toxic family relationships.

4k words.

notes. I just cannot write something that isn’t past 3k words SORRY LMAO. But anyway, so it begins~ Thank you for all the wonderful ideas, I will do my best to write out each scenario in due time! Sorry if it isn't as angsty, if that's the case I'll try to make up with the others... I hope I do Ayato justice in this one <3.

Since I'm back home these prompts will be written on my laptop, hence the fancier formatting. Anyway, Enjoy! ✧˖°.

Coming from a prestigious clan has its ups and downs, yet [F/N] has managed to withstand most obstacles that appeared in her wake. Despite not being one of the tri-commissions, her family was held in the highest regards, including herself as the eldest daughter of the clan. Thankfully however, despite all the restrictions her lifestyle imposed upon her, she still had one good thing on her side - having an elder brother, she wouldn’t have to inherit all the pressure he did. It sounded dismissive, she herself knew so, yet the heart wants what it wants. And even for someone as self-disciplined and honorable as she, surely she could indulge, couldn’t she?

[F/N] had worked hard for her reputation, ensuring her clan kept its prestigious namesake whilst strengthening the bonds with other houses that would prove to become fruitful. With negotiation came alliances, and with alliances the stability of Inazuma was kept. Above all else, she knew, much like her brother, that this was what was to be first and foremost on their priority list. Two of the three children of their house upheld such responsibilities, save for their youngest sister. She, who didn’t have many expectations to her name when compared to her siblings, ended up living a much more desirable lifestyle - in short, she was pampered throughout her life, the apple of their father’s eye. Even in his deathbed, she was promised much more of their share, given everything to the palm of her hand whilst the other siblings were expected to simply cope with such reality. Even when their brother would inherit the Clan as well as all its responsibilities, both felt as though she had won in conquering their parents’ hearts.

[F/N] managed relatively well. Even as her sister grew up taking the spotlight from her whenever she got an ounce of attention, even as she had to work thrice as hard to receive a crumb of the recognition her siblings would get from their parents, she acted with grace that only corresponded with everyone’s expectations. An example of a noble young lady, she was perceived as. Even as her heart would often ache, anger boiling just underneath the surface, she covered it down as the long sleeve of her kimono would hide her bitter expression. She could deal with her sister, she had to. Years of hiding her distaste resulted in a skill that would prove useful in the future, [F/N] becoming able to hide her true emotions rather well.

Their brother ruled their household impeccably, perhaps more so than even their father had while he still lived. [F/N] was there to aid whenever needed, it being mostly to advise him on important decisions and to communicate with their allies whilst he tended to his other duties. And being good with people, she performed her obligations rather well, becoming well acquainted with many important people and even forming friendly bonds with some. One of these was none other than the Kamisatos, including their young daughter of whom [F/N] doted on. In her, she’d found the younger sister she’d always wanted, offering her advice whenever needed, as well as sometimes offering her the company she craved - at least, whenever their busy schedules would allow them to. [F/N] had watched Ayaka grow from within, pride beaming in her chest as she became a fine young lady herself. It was of most importance for them to support one another, knowing full well how stressful their positions could be; it made their lives a little more bearable, knowing they had the support of someone outside of their immediate family.

It was through this growing friendship that [F/N] became acquainted with Ayato, Ayaka’s enigmatic older brother and the ruler of the Kamisato household. Much more distant and calculating, it was seemingly difficult to come closer to his heart as the man held most within arm’s reach. Still, [F/N] remained cordial, not expecting much to blossom from there. Friendly interactions were more than enough, keeping the alliance of their clans alive.

To Ayato however, it was much different. His experienced eyes watched, blue gaze lingering on the finely dressed figure as she often hid her elegant expression with her long sleeves. He noticed how she smiled without much light whenever she was within her clan’s walls, contrasting vividly when compared with how her expressions were genuine whenever accompanied with Ayaka and even Thoma. Ayato noted how she genuinely cared for his sister, offering her wise advice when regarding personal matters he could only figure weren’t of his caliber. And later, a few springs later, he studied how she’d come by more and more often, seemingly seeking refuge within the Kamisato residence whenever her position would allow. To Ayato, [F/N] wasn’t difficult to figure out, yet he couldn’t help but begin worrying for his sister’s friend.

“Thoma,” He’d beckoned his housekeeper, watching as he quickly obliged and approached. Even as he read through the stack of papers, he carried on the conversation. “Ayaka has expressed interest in inviting miss [F/N] over for the evening, yet is there any particular reason for it?”

“Oh,” He sighed out briefly, expression furrowing slightly as he gave his Lord a crack of a sympathetic smile. “Lady [F/N] has been quite down recently, so my Lady wished to offer her a safe space to rest for as long as needed. I-Is that something she should reconsider, my Lord?”

Ayato simply shook his head. “No, it’s quite alright by me; I just couldn’t help notice how she’s been coming over more often. Now, Miss [F/N]’s presence is more than welcomed, of course, yet I wondered how come she seems so gloomy these past few days.”

“Nothing seems to escape you, my Lord,” Thoma chuckled out, before sheepishly offering him an explanation. “Lady [F/N] has a… Rather tumultuous relationship with her siblings, more so with her sister. Apparently, she recently ruined [F/N]’s engagement to a wealthy noble of another house, and her brother did little else but attempt to brush everything under the rug before their reputation were to be stained. She’s been understandably annoyed by the situation, expressing anguish that her sister wasn’t properly punished.”

Ayato’s expression faltered ever so slightly, his hand lowering the paper he read. He’d heard of the news, as gossip traveled fast throughout Narukami. Yet he surely hadn’t heard of the ever so slightly important detail of her younger sister being the cause of such a ruckus. In all honesty, the Commissioner had simply thought she’d been the one to break off the engagement, rightfully so in his mind - they simply had little in common, so there was little chance of the marriage succeeding in the first place.

“I see… If you happen to see her later, please inform her that she can remain here as long as she wishes.” He finished off with a small smile, accompanied with the dismissal of his friend before resuming his duties.

It felt bad to overstay their hospitality, yet [F/N] found it difficult to refuse. Not after her anger made her nearly explode, as well as watching as her brother dismissed her more than justified anger. She’s just never going to change, he’d reasoned as to why he didn’t even punish her for meddling in her engagement, practically telling her to move on. In truth, [F/N] couldn’t exactly say she loved her fiancé, but he certainly wasn’t a bad match, at least from the little she knew of him. Well mannered, good temperament, friendly enough, a reputation similar to their own. Honestly, it had felt like she’d hit the jackpot when considering she would most definitely be married off to whomever her brother thought was the most ideal choice. She’d just gotten her mind set that he would be her husband, and her sister just had to insert herself in between them and whisk him away for her own satisfaction. [F/N] was forced to watch as he was wooed by her beauty and charms, becoming nothing short of her boytoy and wallet as she was pitied as the disgraced woman who was abandoned. Gossip was cruel, and she wished nothing more than to remain hidden away in the Kamisato Estate for a little while.

Ayato received letters, [F/N]’s brother inquiring of her whereabouts as well as demanding her return. Amidst his pile of papers they were just too easy to lose, shrugging his shoulders as he feigned ignorance. Ayaka’s and Thoma’s presence were great in helping her cope, her mind forgetting the trash fire of a family she had for a little more than three weeks. However amidst the duties she had to do, as well as the way she would often give her brother advice on which decisions to make, her presence was beginning to weigh in her clan’s house.

“I should probably return soon,” [F/N] had sighed as she sat on their courtyard, Thoma offering her his company as he served her tea. “My brother will probably make a foolish decision without me there to weigh in the options.”

The blond man chuckled, passing her the fine ceramic cup. “It’s a shame, Miss [F/N]. Your presence in the Kamisato Household is a breath of fresh air, after all.”

“Thank you Thoma, I’ll most definitely miss being in such a peaceful place.” Her gaze turned to the distance, watching with melancholy the beautiful view their courtyard offered.

“You’re always welcome to stay for longer.” Ayato’s voice was suddenly heard, the pair turning to him as he made his way across the wooden floors to the table where they sat.

“Oh,” [F/N] breathed out, head lowering in respect. “Lord Kamisato, I-”

“Please, no need for such formalities. You may just call me Ayato” He offered her a small smile, one seemingly genuine enough as his eyes glimmered with the sunlight. “A friend of Ayaka’s is a friend of my own. She holds you in the highest regard, you know?”

[F/N]’s face bloomed with a lovely shade of pink, nervously laughing as she looked down. “Oh, that girl… She’s just too kind.”

“Are you insinuating she’s overselling your qualities, Miss [F/N]?” He teased, watching with humor as her face contorted in hesitancy and horror.

“What? No, of course not- No, I mean-”

“Perchance she wishes to play matchmaker?” His smile grew more sly, finding her stuttering at his remark quite adorable.

Thoma chuckled quietly, watching the two of them as he rather awkwardly stood there. “My Lord, please…”

“Right, I jest.” Ayato let out in a breathless chuckle, ceasing for the time being as he watched her expression soothe back, the blush still very well present. “Still, Miss [F/N]. You are more than welcome to return, if your family ever causes another ruckus.”

Her genuine smile looked beautiful, her sleeve not covering her face as she would’ve often done during their first encounters. It had been enough to engrave itself on Ayato’s mind, even as she returned to her family estate to once more fulfill her duties.

It was the beginning of something more. No longer did [F/N] visit the Kamisatos for Ayaka and Thoma, she now visited to see Ayato, as well. Even when he wasn’t there to see her, which happened more often than she’d like, she would still inquire how he was doing, hoping he’d be alright and not overworking. Her care for him was endearing, and Ayato found himself making small excuses every so often to leave his working station, wishing to welcome [F/N] to their estate instead and indulge in a philosophical conversation, or perhaps even a game of shogi. Under the blooming sakuras they would converse, and despite the apparent fleeting moments they were, those closest to Ayato could definitely notice the slight shifts in his demeanor - the Commissioner was, after all, not one to allow many into his heart, yet his soft spot for [F/N] was as obvious as it could be.

Suspicion was quick to rise, especially for [F/N]’s siblings. However, [F/N]’s obliviousness was what boiled her brother’s frustrations, wondering if the Commissioner simply sought a plaything in his sister and not something serious. His hurries to find a match for her were in vain though, for just as he believed the answer was in reach, the news came to him through one of his many advisors - one aside from his sister, of course.

“M-My Lord, that might not be a good idea.” The older man stuttered, before breaking the news that was believed to be obvious. “Lord Kamisato is courting Lady [F/N], after all.”

In truth, it had blindsighted [F/N], for she couldn’t believe it for quite a while. Having developed a small crush on the Commissioner, she’d hastily reminded herself it would never develop into anything more. After all, her status required her to marry for benefit first and foremost, and something as worthless as love wasn’t in a noble’s interest. In his place, however, Ayato thought it was just the perfect arrangement - he was not only going to court someone he deeply cared for, their alliance would prove more than beneficial. His opponent, ahem, [F/N]’s brother, would have no rational argument against their marriage.

The news was quick to spread across the land of lightning, and everyone was ecstatic for the Yashiro Commissioner. Ayato was a fine young man, an even finer leader, and his marriage to someone of such a high status as [F/N] was bound to please most. Like he’d calculated, despite not being how it was planned, her brother had no possible way of opposing his request to marry his sister. Ayato was, after all, in a higher rank than their own clan was. It was an honor, something he could not refuse.

And as such, [F/N]’s future was bound with Ayato’s, and she couldn’t be happier. Their relationship progressed quickly, and even before their wedding, he arranged for her personal belongings to be promptly brought to the Kamisato Estate, where she would live. He couldn’t be more dismissive for appearing to go too fast, far too worried to finally bring [F/N] away from the pressure and unhealthy behaviors of her siblings.

One who was far too flabbergasted by such turns of events was none other than her sister, the very same woman who’d taken her previous fiancé to only ditch him after she’d squeezed him for most that he was worth. She’d noticed the smile [F/N] had directed to her before leaving their Estate for good, escorted by samurai issued by her fiancé before turning her back to her. A sense of humiliation had overcome her, never having quite liked the bitter taste of defeat. To her envious gaze, it felt as though [F/N] had won for the first time in her life, and she wasn’t going to let her win the war.

The Kamisatos were more than courteous whenever [F/N]’s sister requested to visit. Ayaka was especially hesitant, yet Ayato let her come by without much trouble, assuring his lover he’d never allow her to cross any boundary. There was a certain distance between them, and [F/N] had no reason to ever doubt her lover. Her friends were all suspicious of her motives, watching as she blatantly faked happiness for her sister.

“You’ve ended up in great hands, big sister!” She’d praise, her voice dripping with hidden venom as she gazed around the luxurious estate. “You’re very lucky, you know?”

“Yes, I’m fully aware.” [F/N] would answer calmly, Ayato watching with amusement as she gave her a forced smile.

“No, I do believe I’m the luckier one here.” Ayato would intervene, publicly choosing to lace his hand with her own, soothing his lover’s anger all the while studying the way her sister’s expression shifted. It was his own way of assuring he was serious about his decision, yet that seemed to, regrettably, only fuel the fire within that devil of a siren.

Preparations were underway, and before long, the day had finally arrived. Her sister’s attempts at wooing Ayato had fallen in deaf’s ears, the man feigning ignorance as his gaze was focused on none other than his fiancée. It was comical to watch as she quietly grew desperate to win the feud, yet at the same time it only brought on more anger and awkwardness to those around them. In his place, however, Ayato simply waited, knowing exactly well when an enemy wished to strike. He’d kissed his bride before leaving to prepare for the ceremony, quite curious to see her in the bridal wear that had been arranged for her as he himself was prepared.

There was still some time before the ceremony would begin, and as such he stood in the present room, making sure he looked presentable enough for his own wedding. He breathed in slowly, finishing arranging his sleeves before hearing as the shoji doors opened behind him.

“Ah, Thoma is that you?” He called out, before turning to watch as a familiar figure eyed him. His expression shifted to slight surprise, watching as [F/N]’s sister carefully walked after closing the door behind her. “Oh, apologies for the confusion. Anything I can help you with?”

“Lord Kamisato…” Her voice lowered softly, approaching him as she fluttered her eyelashes slowly. Her kimono dripped from her shoulder slightly, a clear attempt at seduction being ployed as he remained still, not engaged in the slightest by her attempt. “Actually, there is something you may help me with.”

“Oh really?” He hummed, uninterested as he deployed all the remaining patience he had for the girl before him. With a small sigh he continued. “Then do speak, what is it.”

She came closer, uncomfortably so, her body pressing against his as she placed her hands against his chest. Giving him a concerned look, her expression twisted as she sighed dramatically, shaking her head as she voiced her opinion to him.

“My Lord, I simply cannot watch someone of your own stature marry someone as… Rowdy, and unworthy, as my sister.” She nearly wept, grasp holding onto him tighter before she continued. “She wishes nothing more than to use you to benefit our own house, she has no consideration for anyone regarding herself.”

“That is… Quite the accusation.” His voice grew cooler, arm lifting to carefully pry her away from himself. His hold was quick, as if dusting himself off of unwanted dirt, giving himself distance between the two of them before he continued.

“I wouldn’t say anything that wasn’t true, my Lord.” She dared lie to his face, eyebrows furrowing before she stated she had proof. Ayato scoffed inside his head, watching with hidden amusement as she reached into the cleavage of her kimono to reveal a folded piece of paper. “Please, see for yourself.”

Deciding to humor her for a moment, Ayato picked up the letter, carefully unfolding it before having a quick read. Presenting itself as a love letter to another man, [F/N] apparently spoke of her plans to quickly dispose of Ayato after their wedding, inheriting most of the fortune before quickly disappearing with the lover to whom the letter was concerned. She bit her lip in her place, watching as he read it through before she came closer once more.

“She’s not worthy of you, my Lord.” She placed her hands onto his chest again, head resting against him as she eyed up at him. “She wouldn’t ever love you as someone like you deserves… Please, reconsider this before it’s too late. Consider someone that would treat you right… Like me.”

His gaze shifted, calculating and apparently still processing the information. Thinking she’d caught him in the perfect moment, she continued, hand sliding upwards his chest as she locked eyes with him.

“Lord Kamisato, unlike her, I would support you like a dutiful wife should. I would be able to bring much more to the table, and I’m certain my brother would much rather have our union take place. [F/N] simply wouldn’t know how to please anyone as a wife-”

“I’ve heard enough.” He cut her short, his expression fading to reveal a scowl, a raw portrayal of his emotions for once. His hand was quick to grip her wrist, yanking her away from him with enough care as to not hurt her, but still bringing his point across. He watched as her face shifted to surprise, now her being the one caught off guard. “In fact, I’ve had enough of you.”

“B-But, my Lord-”

“Silence.” His voice grew louder, watching as she flinched in her place. Ayato’s hand shook the measly forged paper she’d given him as proof, scoffing in her face. “If you truly believed a simple forged letter and your word would be enough to deter me from my fiancée, you insult me even more than what I had originally thought.”

“Are you suggesting I’m lying?!” She gasped with hurt, Ayato curtly replying.

“Precisely what I’m insinuating. Forgive me for believing my fiancée instead of her meddling sister who cannot for the life of her be content for her flesh and blood.” It was his turn to approach her retreating figure, his voice growing harsher as he finally snapped on his lover’s behalf. “Now listen, and listen carefully for I will only warn you once.”

Her eyes widened as her lips trembled, suddenly feeling much smaller when in front of his imposing figure. Never would she have thought someone would speak to her in such a way, rendering her riddled with fear to even attempt to think of an argument. Ayato’s cold presence felt suffocating, leaving her in an hesitant state to even attempt to leave her current predicament.

“I’ve been long enough with [F/N] to know of your true intentions, and they don’t carry a single ounce of goodness. You only covet what isn’t yours, and I cannot even describe how I despise people like you. Those who cannot be happy for those who are closest to them are the absolute worst of people, and I want nothing to do with you aside from the formalities our clans require from us. I will only be cordial to you whenever others are around, so lest you want me to give you a new one, only appear before me when there are others around me. Understood?”

“I-I… I…” She couldn’t even bring her words out, Ayato repeating if she’d heard him. “Y-Yes-” She hiccuped.

“Good. Now, you will attend this wedding, and you will be on your best behavior. If you have nothing good to say to my wife, I do not want you anywhere near her. Now begone from my sight.”

Ayato had never watched anyone scurry away from him in such a pathetic state, sighing in frustration as he rubbed his fingers against his temple.

“Goodness. What a brat.” He murmured under his breath, the sudden cough catching him off guard.

“I knew it couldn’t be good the moment I heard my Lord raise his voice…” Thoma awkwardly chuckled, bringing him a freshly brewed cup of tea to soothe any possible nerves.

“Ah, so you’ve heard.” Ayato sighed, promptly thanking him for the tea before taking it carefully. “Do not speak a word of this to [F/N], yes?”

“I heard nothing.” Thoma nodded his head with a kind smile, offering him to adjust any creases of his ceremonial garbs before the wedding were to begin.

Despite the hushed incident, the wedding went on without any kind of drama or dispute. [F/N] was honestly surprised, noticing how her sister remained in her seat, eyes averting the happy couple as her brother forced her to indeed attend the ceremony, instead of ditching it like she would’ve preferred. After all, he didn’t want any ill will between the two clans, and without knowing of what she had done, he saw no reason as to why she shouldn’t attend.

“She’s been awfully quiet…” [F/N] had whispered to Ayato, who’d given her his ear as he’d tilted his head to her. Glancing back to see her sister remaining on her seat rather angrily, she glanced back at her now husband with a narrowing gaze. “What did you do?”

“Me?” He feigned ignorance, though his enigmatic smile gave it away. “I only asked her cordially to enjoy our wedding.” He justified himself, his hold on her hand tightening as his thumb stroked the back of her hand.

[F/N] could only shake her head, her bright smile being something Ayato wouldn’t do just about anything to protect. She sighed quietly, a silent thank you being given to him as she was now able to enjoy the rest of their wedding alongside him, together starting a new chapter as a strong and prosperous couple.

Needless to say, [F/N] found a great amount of joy in sharing with her family every little bit of good news she had, watching with pleasure as her sister festered in her unfounded jealousy she’d brought on herself. Ah, including the surprising, albeit still more than welcomed, pregnancy that soon followed their wedding, of course.

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