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lilahisntsadanymore · 6 months

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Growing up with a deatheater father doesn't teach you much about emotions, so when Theo finds himself developing an infatuation with a muggle-born, he thinks she gave him a love potion.

Pairing: Theo Nott x granger!fem!reader

Words count: 1.9k

Warnings: jealous Harry

There is a 2nd part!! <3

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

Unveiled Desires

It was strange to him. So strange how he went from mocking, annoying and occasionally bullying her every step she takes to secretly wanting her. Wanting to have her, or even needing her.

He didn't know how or when it happened, but one day he realized she was constantly in his head. It creeped up on him in small steps and eventually he had developed an infatuation for the girl.

Of course nobody knew about it, Theo wouldn't dare telling anyone. He just kept with his antics, hoping the obsession will somewhat disappear one day. Unfortunately, the more he tried to get rid of this feeling, the more he gave it power, the more it grew.

But he couldn't be with her. He couldn't be with a mudblood.

But he wanted to be with her. The more he thought about it, the less he cared about the blood status. He cursed at himself for these thoughts. Raised by a deatheater father, he would get disowned for dating anyone who wasn't a pureblood.

"Granger, can I talk to you for a second?" A question left his mouth as he approached the Golden Trio. Who was better to talk to about Y/n than her older sister?

The three Gryffindors looked at Theo as if he wasn't good in the head. Just casually wanting to have a chat, a normal chat, with someone outside of his social circle. Pretty unusual for a Slytherin.

"What is it?" Harry asked protectively.

"I was talking to Granger. I need to talk privately."

Hermione looked at Harry and Ron, exchanging suspecting glances. Eventually she spoke, "Alright, but make it quick."

"Great, let's go." Theo started walking, but Hermione stood in her place.

"Where are you going?"

"Somewhere they," he gestured to Harry and Ron, "aren't gonna eavesdrop."

Hermione crossed her arms on her chest, a knowing expression on her face.

Theo raised his hands, "It's not a trap again, I swear."

The girl sighed and walked after her rival.

Hermione and Theodore weren't fond of each other not only because of their houses and their blood statuses, but also because they were academic rivals. Both of them were extremely competitive. Since first year they aspired to be better than one another in pretty much everything.

"Can we stop already?" The girl asked. "I'm pretty sure they won't ear us from here."

"Alright, alright." Theo agreed. "But I need you to promise me you won't tell anybody about it."

"Why me? Why would you trust a Gryffindor with keeping a secret for you?"

Theo lowered his voice to a whisper, "Because it's about your sister."

"What?!" Hermione's voice was the opposite of a whisper. "What have you done to her?!"

The boy gestured telling her to lower her voice. "No, I didn't do anything. She has done...something."

"What on Earth could that possibly be?" A little more quiet, but still unpleasantly surprised, she decided to listen to him.

One last time, Theo looked around to make sure there's nobody there who could be a witness to what he was about to say.

"She used some spell on me." He accused. "Or put something in my food, my drink."

Hermione scoffed with laughter. "You must be joking. You bully her for whole five years, but one time she pays you back for it, it's an issue?"

"Not like that." He took a second to gather his thoughts. "Granger, do you remember how we learnt about amortentia few weeks ago? I think Y/n gave it to me."

Hermione started at the boy for a moment and then burst out with laughter. Y/n wasn't the issue, there was no way a fifth year would be able to make amortentia. Not even Y/n Granger.

Theodore felt annoyed and offended by Hermione's reaction. He looked at her with disgust. "What is so funny to you about it, mu-, Granger?"

Noticing how he almost called her a slur, her expression immediately became serious. "Seriously? You know what, deal with it by yourself. I don't even know why you're telling me all of this."

"Why? Because you have to talk to her, tell her to do something about it! Tell her to stop it!"

Hermione got a brilliant idea.

"You know, I've heard professor Slughorn had a remedy for amortentia."

"Yeah, and I'll end up in the hospital wing like Weasley."

"It was poisoned mead, not the amortentia cure itself. You can ask him to make one from the ingredients in the classroom."

"I will," Theo scoffed, "look at you being useful for the first time in your life."

Without another word, Hermione walked away. "Boys..." She muttered to herself.

"Don't tell anyone I told you this!"

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

"What?! He likes me?!" Y/n asked with blush on her face. "Theodore Nott likes me? The boy that has been bullying me for the past five years?"

"And the thinks it's because you gave him amortentia." Hermione giggled.

Y/n wouldn't ever think that he could be into her and the whole story that her sister had told her was simply unbelievable. But Hermione had no business in lying to her very own little sister, especially not about that.

"Does anyone else know about this?"

"Not yet, but I talked him into asking Slughorn for the cure! I suppose he'll do this tomorrow after class, as soon as possible."

"Who are you and what have you done to my sister?"

The girls were sitting alone in the common room and as Y/n laughed, Ron and Harry walked in.

"What are you two laughing about?" Harry asked, ready to hear that story.

"Can I tell them?" Hermione looked at Y/n. The younger Granger nodded. "Nott likes Y/n."

The girls and Ron laughed, meanwhile Harry stood there with his lips in a thin line, far away from laughing.

"The best part is," Hermione continued, "he thinks Y/n gave him amortentia!"

"What?" Harry spoke eventually, his voice a bit more surprised than it should be. "Y/n, did you give amortentia to Nott?"

"No, why would you accuse me of this?!" The youngest girl defended herself. "Is it that unbelievable that he can fancy me?"

"I mean... You're a muggleborn... And-"

"And what?! Does that mean I'm not worthy of that? We don't know him, maybe he doesn't believe in this whole blood purity thing."

"He does. That's why he hasn't asked you out. And he never will. Because they're all the same."

Y/n's eyes became a little glossy, the tears ready to start flowing anytime. "Are they, though? And you're saying this. You, whose godfather was Sirius Black."

"Sirius was different!"

"We don't know because we don't know what Theo is like!"

"Theo? It was Nott for the past few years that he was tormenting you," Harry put an emphasis on the word bullying, "now he fancies you and he becomes Theo?"

"I would actually give him a chance. It's not his fault that he was born into a blood purity obsessed family."

"Don't you think that's a little pathetic? Running into his hands the moment you find out he might fancy you meanwhile you had chances to date...other Gryffindors."

"Pathetic? You call me pathetic?"

"I didn't call you pathetic, I said what you do is-"

A sound of a slap filled the room, but the following silence spoke even louder. Y/n looked Harry in the eyes, a light red mark on his cheek that her hand left.

Harry could see and sense that it was too much, he said unnecessary words. He regretted them, but he just couldn't stop them from coming out.

The Golden Trio watched Y/n run upstairs. She was so glad nobody else was in the bedroom yet.

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

"Excuse me, professor," Theo walked up to Slughorn after the class on the following day.

All the other students were slowly exiting the room, Harry's eyes fixed on the Slytherin standing by the teacher's desk.

"Yes, Theodore?" Slughorn asked. "Do you have some more bright insights you'd like to share with me?" He was clearly happy to have this conversation.

"I actually need help, professor."

The man's expression dropped. "Yes? Do you have a problem?"

"I'm worried that I've been given amortentia."

Slughorn's eyes widened. He was surprised or even shocked. "Are you sure? I remember seeing other people under the influence of several love potions and you don't quite match the criteria."

"There's this girl who I can't stop thinking about... I suspect she has given it to me."

"Who that might be?"

Theo waited until all the other students exit the classroom before he said the name.

"Y/n Granger."

Y/n stopped in her tracks just as he was about to enter the potions classroom. She was about to show the teacher a part of her project, wanting to consult the texts she has written. Instead, she stopped and decided to listen to the conversation.

"Ah, she's one of the best students in her year," Slughorn said proudly, "but I assure you - she wouldn't do that to you."

"How can you be sure, professor?"

"Well, could you describe your symptoms, Theodore?"

"Whatever I do, Y/n is on my mind," the boy admitted, "I can't eat, I can't sleep, I zone out thinking about her. It's not normal, I've never experienced it before."

The teacher gave his student a sympathetic smile. "My dear boy, you might be experiencing the actual feeling of being in love."

"What? And how could it have been caused? Was it a love potion, after all? Maybe a spell?"

"It's a part of muggle science, biology. The chemicals in your brain cause it and it's not something you can control. It happens when it happens. A truly beautiful feeling."

Theo's mouth twisted into a dissatisfied grimace. "Is there anything I can do about it?"

"You can talk to the girl about it, for example," Slughorn looked at the door and shouted, "come in, Y/n!"

Y/n cursed to herself in her thoughts. How could he know she was there?

The girl walked in shyly, holding a paper in her hands. "I wanted to show you my paper, professor," the girl spoke, "if there's anything you think I should change or... anything."

As the girl handed the paper to the teacher, she looked at Theo. They stood dangerously close to each other. The silence between the was so loud, Y/n was praying for the teacher to say something. Anything.

"Amazing, Mrs Granger," he spoke eventually, "although the Draught of Living Dead is an extremely difficult potion to make. I'm glad you're so ambitious, but I'd suggest you get help from someone more experienced."

"I'm pretty sure I can do it on my own." Y/n assured.

"Maybe Mr. Nott here could help you. The sixth year has been just learning about this potion, actually. Theodore, would you be so kind and help Mrs Granger?"

Suddenly, Theo's gaze somewhat softened. There was no more disgust in his eyes. When he stood so close to Y/n, he wondered why did he act the way he did. Why did he do all the mean things to her. Maybe he had always liked her, but didn't want to admit it, even to himself alone.

"Yes, sure," he said, "I can help."

Y/n felt happy. For some reason, she didn't dislike Theo for all the things he did. She secretly always liked him, he was attractive, and she would even sometimes daydream about the day he would finally talk to her like a normal person. Maybe the day has finally come.

#theo nott #theodore nott #slytherin boys #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfic #theo nott fanfic

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that-basic-simp · 3 months

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Water Lily

Mizu X Fem!Reader CW: Uses the scientific term for a man's groin WC: 2.4k+ Uses he/him pronouns at the beginning and then changes to she/her Also POV change at the end

"Mizu?"

"Yes, Mizu."

"Like water."

He nodded his head.

"Interesting name for a man," I said, eyeing him up and down.

He was tall and slender. Raven like hair that was tied into a bun, a Kasa on his head that hid his face if he tilted it down. There were round tinted glasses on his face. Wonder why they were tinted? Was he hiding something that he shouldn't? Such as his eye color. Taking a closer look, even if they were tinted, I could see the shape of his eyes. They were round, not almond. His face was pretty angular, which there were some men here with angular faces, but not like his. He was a peculiar man, I will say that.

"Please, I-I understand if you don't want to take me in, but I need to find shelter for the night. A-And I thought this place was abandoned."

"It wasn't, at one point," I said.

"Did you have a family?"

"Yes. A big one at that."

Looking at the surroundings, Mizu nodded his head, "I can tell by the size of it."

"But we weren't rich enough to live in the big cities like Kyoto."

"So why settle out here? In the middle of no where?"

"It was quiet and there weren't many visitors. Except you."

"I-I don't mean to rush this, but," he shifted and that was when I saw it.

There was blood dripping from his side. Rushing him inside, I closed the door and sat him down.

"Take your shirt off," I said.

"I can handle it myself, thanks," he said.

"Please, you're in need of stitches and you're in no condition of doing it yourself."

"How do you know?"

"Were you the same one to do the patchwork in your shirt?"

Eyeing the white stitches that were haphazardly done, Mizu pouted and sighed.

"Fine. B-But promise you won't tell anyone?"

"Tell anyone who? That I saw a man shirtless? I had male cousins who would swim naked in the river behind the house. I've seen more penises than I'd like to," I sighed.

"I take it you're not fond of it?"

"Never was and never will be."

"Why are you out here all alone?" Mizu asked as I got the needle and thread ready, along with some alcohol.

"My family left me."

"Why?"

"The same reason as to why I never want to sleep with a man, let alone be touched by one."

"B-But why are you helping me?"

"You seem like a nice guy," I said.

"So you don't like men?"

"Not romantically."

"I see," Mizu said. "Well, you're in luck."

"Why's that?"

As soon as Mizu removed his cloak and shirt, I understood why. There was a binding around his chest.

"A woman."

Mizu nodded her head, "Yes."

"Well, do you want me to call you sir or madam?"

"Mizu."

"Mizu? Just Mizu?"

"Yes. Just Mizu."

"Well, if there was one thing that stuck from my family, is I always gave people nicknames. No matter if they were staying for the day or a week."

"Why?"

"Hospitable," I said and got the needle and thread ready, stitching up the stab wound in Mizu's left abdomen.

"Geez, you have a lot of scars over your body. What kind of a samurai doesn't wear armor?"

"I-I'm not a samurai. I have no honor. Unless you count revenge honorable."

"Why the revenge?"

There was a long pause.

"I know it's easier said than done, but you can trust me. Not like I have anyone to tell your secrets to. I do live alone."

"Surprised you haven't gone insane," Mizu said.

"You and me both."

"Do you remember when the four white men came to Japan?"

"My parents told me about it. Caused a big stir."

"I was the product of one of them. He slept with my mother and she had me."

"C-Can I look at something?"

"What?" Mizu turned towards me.

Reaching up, she flinched away, causing me to retract my hand. Slowly nodding, she leaned towards me. Removing her glasses, I finally found what was hiding underneath. Bright, blue eyes that seemed to shine in the firelight. They reminded me of the river outside, how it shimmered and shined against the morning and evening sun.

"Your eyes," I began.

"Just say it," Mizu said with annoyance.

"Say what?"

"That I'm a demon, an onryo. A dog."

"They're beautiful."

"What?"

"Your eyes, they're beautiful. I haven't seen anything like them."

"O-Oh," Mizu said. "T-Thanks, I guess."

I smiled, "So cold. Yet the minute you're exposed to a burning fire, you freeze up."

"I haven't really been complimented throughout my years of being alive. I was seen as a demon. A monster. That I had no right to be alive."

"But you are, aren't you?"

"Alive only to do one thing and that is kill those white men."

"What do you plan to do afterwards?"

"I don't know."

"Well, you always have a place here, Mizu," I said, taping some gauze around the stitches. I put the binding on her chest and she pulled the shirt up.

"Stay as long as you need to," I said, throwing the needle away.

"You never told me your name," Mizu said.

"Y/N."

"Y/N," she said. "Thank you, Y/N."

"Rest, Mizu. I will fix you up something to eat to help with the healing process.

"How can I repay you?"

"By coming back alive."

"Back where?"

"Here. I like your company."

Even if I couldn't see her, there was a smile across her face. Once I had finished making her something to eat, I sat down beside her and handed her the bowl.

"So, your family," Mizu said.

"Minute they found me with a woman they picked up their things and left."

"Nice of them to leave you a house to yourself instead of throwing you out."

"They went with my aunt and uncle. They're lords so of course they'd want to live in a bigger place than this."

"Of course. The greedy just become greedier."

"But I have found solace within these walls. I thank you for the company," I smiled.

"Thank you for helping me."

I nodded, standing up, letting Mizu have some space and time to eat.

"You're handy with a sword," I said, watching her practice.

It's been a few days since Mizu arrived at my doorstep asking for help, even though she really didn't want it at first. I was sure she would have left by now because of how she spoke of her mission. She was serious and she wanted these people to pay. I felt her pain, her vengeance. But it was killing her on the inside.

"I am handy with other things," Mizu said, wiping some sweat from her face. "Anything is a weapon if you really think about it."

"In your hands, even chopsticks can be a weapon."

She chuckled, "Yeah. I guess they can be."

"Who taught you?"

"Myself."

"Oh, self taught."

"No school would take me. Y-You've seen me. I-I'm a disgrace."

Walking over to Mizu, I raised my hand and placed it against her cheek. Moving her head back a bit, I found her blue eyes.

"Mizu, you're not."

"W-Why do this to me?"

"Do what?"

"Tell me something I am not when I am."

"It were those who claimed you as something you're not. They were telling you you're an onyro, a demon, a dog, whatever they wanted to call you. That is something you're not, Mizu. You're simply a person who is just trying to get by in this world."

"I-I," she reached up and grabbed my hand, nuzzling into my palm. "I-I never really thought about it that way."

"Because you were taught not to show who you really were. Not to be you, Mizu. You had to put a mask on your face and because of it, you hid away and that's really the only thing you know."

Tears streamed down her face as she squeezed her eyes shut tightly. Removing my hand, she let go of it.

"Leave me."

"Mizu, d-did I say something wrong?"

"Just leave," she snarled at me. "And quit pretending you know me."

She walked off and continued to train. That was interesting, but it made her all the more complex.

"I see you're still not gone," I said, sitting down and putting a bowl in front of her.

"And you still haven't given me a nickname," Mizu said, raising the bowl to her lips.

"I haven't thought of a good one."

"Well, my name means water. Shouldn't that mean something?"

"It does, I am trying to find a way to tie that in. But nothing is coming."

"Just call me ocean because I come and go like it."

"Then it would be rain."

"What was your nickname? If your parents gave you one."

"They gave me the nickname of koi."

"Koi? Like a koi fish?"

"Yep. I loved swimming, just like the koi fish. And I had perseverance, especially when it came to learning medicinal soups and what was edible and what wasn't."

"And here I thought you'd poison me," Mizu joked.

"Ha-ha," I said dryly.

"You're actually quite good at it," she said.

"Good at what?"

"Taking care of people. And well, everything you've done for me lately."

"Oh. T-Thank you."

"Didn't think I'd compliment you?"

"N-No, but I just don't see you complimenting someone."

"Really? Why's that?"

"Cold like ice."

"Oh," she sighed.

"But once warm, the ice melts away, leaving water in its place. You're resilient, Mizu. Like water itself."

"A-About the other day," Mizu said.

"Yeah?"

"I-I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have said that to you."

"Well, for someone to say those kinds of things, someone had to be in similar shoes. I was in similar shoes like you. Having to hide who I truly was and then when it came out, I was scolded for it. Seen as a monster. Seen as something anything other than human."

"It must have been hard, having your entire family turn their backs on you when you needed them most."

"It was," I said, picking up my chopsticks and grabbing the noodles. "But like my nickname, I pushed through. I found a way to overcome it and was able to thrive. Now, I find myself in a better place than before. And while I thought it couldn't get any better, you came along."

Mizu picked up her head, "W-What did I do?"

"Gave me another reason to stay here."

"You wanted to leave?"

"I did. I took some jobs from the nearby town and saved up enough money to move into said town. People tried to offer me their homes, but I wanted to earn a house by myself and work there."

"Why haven't you yet?"

"Well, someone by the name of Mizu came to my door the day I was getting ready to pack my things."

Mizu turned away, avoiding my gaze.

"M-My apologies. I-I should have left earlier."

"I enjoy your company, Mizu. I'm glad you stayed for as long as you did. And besides, I think you're all healed up. So you also needed to stay to heal."

"Do you have everything?" I asked Mizu as I straightened out the cloak on her shoulders.

"Yes, I have everything," she said.

I handed her her tinted glasses and she held off putting them on yet. I also handed her a different kind of scarf.

"What's this for?" she asked, taking it.

"A more fashionable scarf to wrap around your neck."

"Why?"

"I don't think you like having whatever you have around your neck. Besides, it'll also keep you warm."

Mizu removed what was around her neck and replaced it with what I had given her.

"I-It is warm," she said, her eyes widening with surprise. "W-What is it?"

"Part of a blanket I had when I was a kid."

"W-Why do something like that?"

"It'll provide you warmth and comfort. And it'll remind you of me."

"I can't thank you enough, Y/N," Mizu said.

"You don't need to. J-Just promise me one thing."

"I-I'll try to."

I reached over and grabbed her hands, holding them gently in mine.

"Promise me you'll come back alive. I don't care if it's in pieces to where I have to stitch you up again," I poked at her abdomen, earning a chuckle from her. Reaching up, I placed my hand against her cheek, caressing the skin. "Just please come back to me."

"I-I'll try to, Y/N."

"Thank you."

"I-I think I might have found a way to thank you."

"How's that?"

Leaning towards me, she placed her lips lightly to the corner of my mouth, pressing a quick kiss. Pulling away, her cheeks flushed. Smiling, I leaned towards her and pressed a light and quick kiss to her lips. When I pulled away, her eyes were wide and her mouth open slightly. Her cheeks went from pink to a deep shade of red. I giggled, seeing her flustered like that. She put her glasses on and tipped her Kasa down over her eyes.

"G-Goodbye, Y/N."

She walked down the path of my house and turned to the left, heading to the nearest city.

"Goodbye, my water lily."

~Mizu's POV~

Walking down the familiar path, I reached up and grabbed onto the scarf, feeling the silk material. A smile crawled over my face when I finally reached the turn that led to her house. Turning, my heart sank into my stomach and my knees got heavy. Rushing towards the house, the once vibrant paint was weathered away and there were boards where the windows used to be. Ivy was growing and grass was overtaking the stone path.

"Y-Y/N!" I called, rushing towards the backside of the house. "Y-Y/N!"

I ran towards the front and let out a silent cry as tears slid down my face.

"N-No. I-I haven't been gone for that long."

Walking close to the door, there was a board covering it so I couldn't even really open it. Stepping closer, there was a little piece of paper sticking out from underneath one of the boards. Grabbing it, I pulled out a letter with my name on it. Opening it with trembling hands, I read the first two words and was immediately running towards that town. I should have known. She mentioned she wanted to move there. I didn't think she'd move that quickly. As I was running there, I was reading the note. Reaching the town, I walked through some crowds of people and before I knew it, I was standing in front of her house. Her new house. There was a bell hanging by the door. Raising my hand, I grabbed the red sting at the end and rang it, a jingle erupting into the air.

"Coming!" her voice called from the inside.

Taking in a deep breath, I let it out and the door opened up.

"M-Mizu?"

"I-I'm b--"

Her arms were thrown around me and she was hugging me tightly.

"I thought you were dead."

Lifting my arms, I wrapped them around her, hugging her tightly.

"I missed you, too."

Pulling away, she cupped my face in her hands. Pulling me towards her, our lips met lightly and I let out a small hum. Oh to be with her after a long time of fighting. Pulling away, she smiled at me.

"My water lily," she breathed out.

Reaching up, I grabbed her hand.

"I don't think koi suits you."

"Oh? Then what should you call me?"

"Mine," I said huskily.

Her eyes blinked a few times and her face turned a bright shade of red. Smirking, I pushed her into the house and closed the door.

"Payback for when I left."

She chuckled, tears forming in her eyes as I reached up and removed my glasses.

"I missed those eyes. I missed you, Mizu."

"I missed you, too, Y/N."

#mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #bes mizu #blue eye samurai

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rafedaddy01 · 5 months

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Hii, I was thinking about a posesive Rafe that’s in love with Topper’s younger sister, The whole island knows she’s his girl but when he realizez Pope/Jj (or Both) has a crush on her The PDA goes to 100%, Topper hates this of course because it’s his sister and Rafe makes a plan. At a party The guys walk in on them while she’s riding him but Even when they walk in she doesn’t stop. And she looks anything but inocent, and before she got togheter with Rafe she was super inocent and shy about sex and sexual stuff and if he Could Say something about that It would be Great. Hopefully you like The idea 🥺

My Bestfriends Sister

Summary: Rafe must show the world that you’re his, but what happens when you beat him to it.

Warnings: smut, riding, oral, fingering, language, possessives, arguing, fighting, drinking

I have a plan, I always have a plan.

Sometimes they work out sometimes they don’t, but this one will. She is my girl and nobody can have her.

“Topper man, I’m telling you. It will work!” I plead with my best friend. He’s never been fond of the idea of me dating his little sister, but fuck him. I love her and he’s just gonna have to put up with it.

“Rafe..” topper scratched his head as he contemplates for the right words.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but your kinda a fuckboy, what makes you think you could my sister happy?” Topper looks nervous, he best fucking be. He knows if best his ass in a second if he said something to upset me.

But I’m not that man anymore. Not for a while, not since.. her

I glared at him for a second before I found my words.

“Trust me bro, it’ll work”

** later at the party

“Dude, did you see y/n tonight. In that tight little dress that hugged her ass so perfectly! I’m gonna ask her out tonight” the pouge scum had the audacity to speak about my girl right in front of me, he doesn’t know what he’s in for.

To be fair he doesn’t know I’m right behind him, but he will soon.

“What the fuck did you just say?” I turn him around so quickly I’m surprised his head is still attached to his body.

“Say that shit again and you won’t live to see another day, pouge” I spit the word in his face so that he remembers his place.

“Shit relax Rafe, I thought you’d of all people appreciate a little ass” JJ chuckled like it was the funniest shit he’s ever said.

“That piece of ass is my girlfriend you piece of shit”

The last think I remember is swinging my fist right into his perfect little nose and stepping back to watch the blood seep out as his friends surround him.

I need a drink.

I stumble into the kitchen and pour myself the strongest shit I can find, whiskey. It’ll do.

“Rafe!”

Instant comfort fills my chest at the familiar voice.

“There she is” I wrap my arms around my girl and bring her close, embracing her rose scent. “Missed you”

I plopped her down onto the counter and stepped between her thighs. “So much” my mouth travelled to her neck and my fingers traced up her smooth thighs, pushing the material of her skirt up.

She tilted her head back and a small giggle left her lips. Fuck that sound, had my dick straining against my jeans more than it already was.

“I miss you too” her voice was low and dripping with arousal, almost as much as her pretty cunt when I dipped my fingers to touch her soaked panties.

“Fuck” I growled as I wrapped her legs around my waist and carried her out of the kitchen, past the crowd and showing everyone that she’s mine.

I push the door to her room open and throw her onto the bed.

“My dirty girl, can’t even let me enjoy one night of fun without being a horny slut can you?” I stride over to her and pull her to the edge of the bed before kneeling down to her pretty clothed pussy.

“Please” her whine was music to my ears.

“Please what baby” I run my nose up the inside of her thigh until I nudge her covered clit, which is already magnificently swollen with want.

“You have to use your words” I bite the inside of her thigh as I trace my fingers over the wet spot on her panties.

“I want you, I need you Rafe, please!”

I barely let her finish the sentence before I’m tearing her panties down and diving in for a taste.

“Fucking magnificent, you taste like heaven baby” I groan the words into her cunt as I dive in for more.

“Rafe!” She grips onto my hair and it drives me wild, I’m in deep shit with this girl.

“Scream baby, let everyone know your mine” I demand her just as I stuff her pretty cunt with two of my fingers and curve.

I know her body like the back of my hand and one push onto her delicate spot has her melting right into me.

“Oh shit! Rafe, god don’t stop”

She’s grinding down on my hand and I’m about to bust if I don’t get inside her right now.

“Come on baby, let go for me” I praise her through her high as she slowly starts coming down.

“Good girl” I knead her thighs as I push off my knees and stand to undress.

She watched me with hungry eyes as I strip down my boxers and my dick hits my stomach.

“You dirty dirty girl, what happened to that innocent y/n I met? Hmm?” I stroke her cheek and plant my lips on her before pulling away and aligning myself up.

“Wait!”

“What is it baby?”

She gives me the most innocent look and says “I wanna ride you”

A dark chuckle leaves me body as I position myself on the bed.

“Come here bunny” she crawls over to me and I help her out of the rest of her clothes so her perky tits are right in my face and she sits down on my cock.

“Fuck” we both grown out at the relinquished feeling.

She’s starts bouncing up and down and I’m grabbing her tits, putting one nipple in my mouth and sucking. Fuck this is heaven, and I’m the only one who gets to see her like this.

Almost like she could read my mind she says, “I’m the only one rafey, I’m yours, oh god, right there”

Just when I’m about to take control the door swings open.

“Hey Rafe I-“

I expect her to stop at the presence of her brother and kelce but she starts bouncing again while making eye contact.

“Oh my god!” Topper rushes out of the room while kelce on the other hand leans against the door and watches.

And my little slut loves it. She puts on the best show, “oh shit, I’m so close!” She starts toying with her clit while making eye contact with kelce.

I grip her throat and face her towards me. “Your mine, got it?” I slap her ass and take control, thrusting up into her.

“Get out” I bark at kelce without even looking at him and he leaves.

“Such a slut baby, does it get you off to know that my friends and your brother saw your fall apart on my dick?” She clenches around my cock at my words.

“Yes!”

I’m thrusting at a relentless pace now and she’s taking everything I’m giving her.

“Such a good girl, and all mine”

She comes with a scream as I pound into a couple more times and let my cum go deep inside her.

“And now everybody knows it” I kiss her hard and deep and feel her body fall into me, I’m never letting her go.

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binsito · 9 months

Text

quiet

pairing: changbin x fem reader

genre: fwb

word count: 2k

synopsis: after coming back home from college, changbin recalls the time you two first had sex in your childhood home while your parents were away and tempts you to do it again - except this time, they were down the hall

rating: mature, includes: unprotected sex, swearing, dirty talk (words like slut, kitten, baby and good girl are used), fingering, little bit of cumplay, changbin cums inside

note: not proofread so i apologize in advanced

the drive back home was exhausting but you were finally pulling up to the driveway of your childhood home. changbin parked the car and got out to take out the luggage. your parents had come out to greet you both happily, embracing you and welcoming you both back home.

your mom, embarrassing as always, squished changbins cheeks. complimenting him and letting him know how handsome he’s gotten which caused him to laugh shyly and his face to flush red.

you and changbin had grown up together, two peas in a pod, virtually inseparable. your parents were very fond of him and treated him like one of their own. they were excited to know their little girl wasn’t going to be alone when moving away to a new city for college. they trusted changbin and knew he would take good care of you. your dad had helped him bring the luggage inside while you and your mother caught up. she asked your typical motherly questions: “how’s school? are you being safe? are you dating?” you reassured her that everything was fine and not to worry. she was just so glad to have you back home for some time.

they had prepared a nice dinner for all of you to share as a family, changbin had always loved your mother’s cooking. she served him a nice portion and smiled when he complimented her. he was always so vocal about food especially if he found something delicious. happy belly, happy binnie.

once dinner was over, you offered to do the dishes but your mother said she’d take care of it. she wanted you and changbin to settle in to the room upstairs and unpack your bags. you trudged upstairs tiredly and walked into your childhood room, just as you had left it. there was a mix of posters and cds as well as a teddy bear collection. you were a very nostalgic person so even as you grew up, you still kept trinkets from when you were younger - meshing your interests from when you were a child with your adolescence. “it’s almost like you never left huh?” changbin chuckled as he sat on your old full size bed.

you were kneeled in front of him, unzipping your suitcase and pulling out your pajamas. you smiled softly and nodded “yeah.. i missed being here. it’s cozy.”

he hummed in agreement and fell back into the bed, staring at the ceiling. you could hear your parents going into their room down the hall. you both knew they would be out like a light very soon.

“hey..” changbin calls out with a soft chuckle, his mind had begun to race and he remembered something. you glanced over at him and questioned him, you could tell by the stupid smirk on his face that he was up to no good. “remember the first time we fucked?” god, he better shut up before you strangle him.. “changbin.. shut the fuck up my parents are down the hall..” he whisper yelled at him.

he didn’t seem to care, however, propping up on his elbow and looking down at you.

“it was right here. on this bed. remember that, kitten? we had such a blast..” you threw a shirt at him to shut him up but he just grabbed it and laughed, finding your facial expressions amusing. you would die of embarrassment if your parents ever found out about this. “what if we did it again? you know your parents are heavy sleepers..” he suggested “yeah but the thing is.. they literally were not home when we did it..” you rolled your eyes. changbin knew that was true, but he found the element of your parents potentially hearing you or finding out making his cock swell.

he recalls the time he fucked you face down into your bed while your parents were away on a work trip. he could vividly feel how your cunt was sucking him in, how you kept trying to reach back for him, moaning so loudly he was sure the neighbors were going to call the cops. he spent the entire weekend ruining your pussy, making an absolute mess of you.

it happened on a whim, you had invited him over like you normally did but things felt different. your playful banter quickly turned into blatant flirting which then turned to you straddling him, teasingly grinding into him. you would be lying if you said he didn’t raise the standards of sex for you. sure, you slept with other guys before him, but after that you just kept coming back to him for more. if something works, why change it? if you were guaranteed fantastic sex, why would you risk doing it with a guy you didn’t even trust? with a guy who didn’t know where to find your clit, or how you liked your tits to be played with. a guy who’s cock may not be as thick as changbin’s, a guy who may not have the stamina that he does?

it made absolutely no sense to do something that silly!

“but wouldn’t it be fun? you’d have to be super quiet for me.. and you deserve a little fun after being so uptight at school with studying”

he was tempting you and he knew you couldn’t turn him down. if there was one thing you could never turn down, it was sex with changbin. you grumbled under your breath and got up to lock the door but changbin got up to stop you. “leave it unlocked.. that way you have no choice but to shut up and be a good girl” he whispered, leading you over to the bed.

it was moments like this that made you hate the fact that he was your best friend. why was he capable of making you feel so good? why were you both so sexually attracted to one another? the lines were starting to blur too much for your liking and it was starting to make you nervous. “hey” he grabs your face, not having a clue what you were thinking about but trying to get you to focus. you snapped out of it and tugged him into bed with you, pulling him in for a kiss and quickly deepening it, tugging on a lock of his hair to elicit a moan from him because if he wanted to play this game then so were you. and you knew how fucking whiny and loud he got during sex. he couldn’t shut up for the life of him. he slipped his hands up your shirt to cup your tits, pressing them together and then pulling your bra down to let them spill out, he’d worry about unclasping the back later.

changbin was a very patient man, he had no rush when it came to undressing you. he knew that one way or another, you’d end up naked for him. you on the other hand, needed all clothes off immediately. you needed him bare in front of you and ready to get to work. however, you had to learn to be patient because changbin didn’t like it when you would hurry him up, often denying you orgasms or making you work harder for them.

thankfully, it seemed he was feeling a bit needy today, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down, throwing them off the side of the bed before bringing his attention back to you. he grabbed your thighs and dragged you closer to him, you giggled and looked up at him. he was able to manhandle you so easily, he could fold you in two, your body so pliant to his touch.

“you sure you’ll be able to stay quiet binnie?” you teased, he rolled his eyes as you lifted up your hips of the bed, allowing him access to tug your shorts down your legs.

“i have self control, unlike you.” but you knew that was a straight lie. sure he might’ve been more composed than you were, but you knew that as soon as he plunged into you, all reasoning would be tossed aside.

and you were absolutely right.

as soon as you were both fully naked, he was struggling to restrain his moans. you having to press a hand to his mouth to quiet him down as you sunk down on his cock. he was sat on the edge of the bed, you on his lap, slowly starting to move on him. eyes rolling back, him nipping at your hand gently to help stifle any noise. you could feel him drooling a little and that made you pick up the pace. he gripped your ass tightly to slow you down, hearing the bed start to squeak. “getting nervous bin? they’re out like a light remember?” you taunted him, pulling your hand away from his mouth to tug at his hair and kiss at his neck, sucking a little too harsh and leaving a mark. you’d laugh at him trying to cover it tomorrow. and he was getting tired of you having the upper hand, making you gasp out when you feel him stand up, holding you in his arms as he rutted up into you, the sound of his skin smacking against you as you wrapped your arms around his neck. you were dying to scream out his name and he was making it hard for you not to, leaning into his ear so he could hear your pants and whimpers.

“fuck.. you drive me crazy.. letting me fuck you while your parents sleep down the hall.. you are such a slut..” he grunted, accentuating slut with a sharp thrust, one that made your toes curl.

he needed to be deeper in you, needed his cockhead to hit the very back of your pussy. as quietly as he possibly could (which wasn’t very quiet at all), he moved you both to the floor, laying you down on the rug you had by your bedside. he lifted your legs over his shoulders and hammered into you as you bit your fist. it would be a miracle if no one had heard the ruckus you had going on. “c-cunt’s gripping me so tight today.. so greedy.. don’t worry baby, it’s not going anywhere.”

he had you seeing stars, your mind completely full of him. he looked particularly handsome in this angle, hovering over you while he drilled you against the floorboards. he was getting sloppy, hips stuttering along with his breathing. your pussy pulsating and swollen, clenching on to him tightly as you felt him release inside you, the feeling of his warm cum inside you never getting old.

he pulled out carefully as to not spill any and helped you up into the bed. he laid against the headboard and pulled you into his chest. his chest against your back as he spread your legs open with his own, dipping his fingers down and pressing them into your pussy as he fucked his cum back into you. you kicked your head back on to his shoulder and breathed out in pleasure, his thick fingers always knew how to work you open. curling them as the squelch of your juices and his cum echoed softly.

“can’t get enough of you binnie..” you moaned out softly as his other hand came to rub your clit. scissoring you open and watching as you melted into his touch. he knew your body all too well.

he pressed soft kisses to your cheek as you reached your peak, shushing you gently so you wouldn’t wake anyone up. he pulled out his fingers and brought them to your lips, having you suck them clean before he kissed you to get a taste. “we might have some explaining to do in the morning..” he laughed softly “god i hope not.. they probably won’t bring it up even if they did hear anything”

you curled up in bed with him, not even bothering to get under the covers. you’d deal with your parents (and your possible feelings for him) later.

please refrain from reposting, modifying, translating, copying or stealing my work. - © binsito

#binsito #skz hard thoughts #skz smut #stray kids smut #changbin #changbin smut #changbin x reader smut #changbin x reader #stray kids smut imagine #stray kids x reader smut #skz x reader smut #love me some good ol fwb

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myosotisa · 1 year

Text

there are bones in my closet - s.h.

Steve Harrington x Reader

‖ summary: You can't control what your scars have done to you, but you can control what you're going to do about it and who you're going to trust with them.

‖ tags: hurt/comfort, post season 4 volume 2. contains content referring to anxiety, depression, ptsd, unresolved trauma, and their symptoms. you comforting Steve and Steve comforting you. written all in one sitting and unedited, so sorry if there are mistakes. i'll go back and fix them at some point.

‖ word count: 3.8k

You both had scars; seen and unseen.

Some of his were physical. Puckered pink and tight scar tissue on either side of his torso, a smaller section on one shoulder. A straight, light line of discoloration across his throat. The special glasses he had to wear and the pills he had to take to keep the migraines at bay.

The rest were less obvious. A tensing of his shoulders whenever something flew by him and he wasn’t expecting it, even if it was as small as a bee. White knuckle grips, and sometimes a full body flinch, at the crack of thunder or flash of lightning. An uneasy feeling that led to irritability when he had to go outside while it was foggy. Wide, panicked eyes when he woke up in the middle of the night with a scream in his throat. His protective nature morphed, shifted, grew into something that could sometimes feel stifling. The anxiety that accompanied the fear behind the protection.

When you first got closer to Steve Harrington, it was easy for you to tell he had ghosts following him wherever he went. You knew because you had them too.

A tendency to jump or freeze at a loud noise or when someone raised their voice. Hints of subtle pain hiding behind your eyes around the holidays, your birthday, when people talked about their family and you forced a smile. How you could go from the life of the party, talking and laughing and helping everyone, and start to go quiet so quickly, sometimes entirely without warning. The way it wasn’t unusual for you to disappear for days at a time, no one knowing you were simply buried in your covers and unable to emerge. And sometimes, even when you were right next to him, right next to anyone, you would still feel so far away.

Steve was haunted by things that had long since died and you were too.

The first time you saw the signs in him was early April 1986.

You’d barely known him then. Both of you had known of each other in school but that was pretty much it – orbited different planets in the same solar system. When you met him again, or for the first time really, at the donation drive at the high school, he wasn’t at all what you remembered. King Steve was wearing a little name tag and folding shirts, pants, towels, and anything else set before him and then organizing it into piles just like one of your colleagues had asked him to.

Although pretty busy trying to wrangle a few other volunteers who seemed to have bitten off more than they could chew when it came to washing the bedding on the cots lining the gym, you couldn’t help but catch glimpses of him. How he had a heated but whispered argument with Robin Buckley from a year behind you, and then smiled like a proud father as she made peanut butter sandwiches. Turned into an absolute mother hen when a curly haired brunette walked by him with a limp, leaving his station to usher him over to a set of chairs and gave him what looked like a finger wag before ruffling the boy's curls. He only went back to folding when an older man, who you recognized as one of the people staying here, came and sat down next to the boy, waving Steve off with a shaky hand.

A few other preteens came by and talked to him, the only one you recognized being Nancy Wheeler’s younger brother Mike. He spoke with all of them with what could only be described as fond annoyance – like how you would talk to a younger sibling or a best friend. It intrigued you, for lack of a better word. An earthquake had shattered Hawkins and here was Steve Harrington: folding an endless number of fabrics that just kept growing, greeting anyone who tried to talk to him with a charming smile, and looking out for a select group of what appeared to be his friends.

After a particularly long conversation with two local moms, you noticed it. The smile was more forced, his responses less enthusiastic, shoulders rolling forward and eyes closing with a deep breath when he thought no one was looking at him.

He looked exhausted. The kind of tired sleeping can’t fix.

When another local came and chatted him up, carrying most of the conversation as Steve replied politely, and then clapped him on the back – he choked. A tightening of his chest, his neck, his eyes squeezing shut as he let out a few coughs. The man looked worried, asking him if he was okay, if he had hurt him. Then brown eyes blinked open wide again and flickered around wildly. His shoulders started to fall and rise faster, a flush creeping up his neck.

Your bleeding heart cracked a bit more as you stepped inbetween the man and him.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” you glanced back at the man, who gave a hesitant shrug before making an escape, and you returned to the wild eyes of Steve. “Volunteer coordinator here, do you think you could come help me with something?”

There was water collecting in the corners of his eyes as they glanced from you to the room like he was looking for a way to escape. His voice was slightly hoarse when he tried to respond, “I… I, uh-”

Lightly pressing the tips of your fingers to the clenched fist of his hand, you lowered your voice as quietly as you could. “Just come with me.”

His eyes squeezed shut, a single errant tear sliding down his pink cheek, before he gave a stunted nod.

You could feel eyes on your back as you walked with him off of the floor and into the swinging door of the kitchen.

Struggling with the weight, you pulled open the heavy metal door to the walk in fridge and motioned him inside. He didn’t question it as he stepped in and you followed behind him.

The space was small but not claustrophobic, large wire shelves on either side as the heavy door softly closed behind you. Eyes searching, you landed on a long plank of what looked like frozen pork ribs.

“Hold this please,” was the only thing you said as you thrust it into his hands. His eyebrows were drawn together in confusion but he took the slab, the ice cold object ending up nestled into his chest. Perfect. “Thanks, now just wait here a minute,” you inched past him, both of you having to rotate in order for you to get past without touching each other, “I have to grab one more thing.”

You didn’t. You didn’t need the ribs either. But you opened up the faded white ice chest in the back of the walk in and started digging through it, looking for nothing. Your companion didn’t say a word in the enclosed space, but you could tell the cold was doing its job as his breathing started to slow down. After pretending to dig for another few minutes, you stood up straight again and let the lid fall closed before hopping up to sit on top of it.

Steve was standing there dutifully and holding the frozen meat close to him just as you’d asked. The flush rising up from his chest had been replaced with pink nose and cheeks from the cold, dry air, and his chest rose and fell at a more reasonable rate. The panic in his eyes had abated and the tears blinked away as his head slightly swiveled to look around the metal container you both were in.

“You can put the meat down now if you want.”

He startled a bit, gaze returning to you having not realized you were sitting there watching him. “I’m sorry?”

“I didn’t actually need your help,” you offered plainly, motioning to the pork he was basically hugging. “The cold helps the panic go away.”

His head drops to look over the plastic bundle in his arms. “The…? No, I wasn’t-”

“It’s okay, Steve. You don’t have to explain.”

A few moments passed as Steve’s grip on the meat shifted before he set it back on the shelf you had taken it from. Now free, his arms crossed over his chest and he shifted on his feet slightly. You took your own few moments to slow down, to breathe. To let the cold air recover you as much as it could before you had to go back out there.

Go back to grieving widows and broken families and people suddenly without homes or possessions. People crying, screaming, trying to make sense of something senseless. Some looking out for ways to help, some desperately seeking help no one could reasonably provide. You would keep going until your heart bled dry and then just a little farther, just to go back to your empty apartment and do it again the next day.

But it was what you could do. It was something you could do. A way you could help.

Rescuing Steve Harrington from having a panic attack in a crowded school gym was a way you could help even when you felt like you were falling apart at the seams.

His voice is gentle when he asks, “how did you know…?”

That he was panicking? That the cold would help? That he needed help?

“Guess when you know what it feels like, you know what it looks like.”

He seems to quietly consider your answer as he quietly considers you. Eyes searching, posture guarded, energy unsettled. You want to show a kind smile, open palms, telling him sweet words that will settle him, do the job that you’re supposed to be doing here.

But you’re so exhausted. The kind of tired sleeping can’t fix. And you just need a few more minutes before you put the act back on.

Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to have found it, because his arms fell from his chest, one lowering to rest on his hip as he leaned the opposite shoulder against the shelf beside him.

“Do you, uh, have any other tips and tricks?” He hesitantly asks, his gaze locked on your dirty sneakers.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

The first time he saw yours was early June 1986.

The two of you had spent a steadily increasing amount of time together as he continued to volunteer to help at the makeshift shelter and you continued coordinating. When it was possible, the two of you would end up on a station together and you’d get a few more clues into what exactly were the skeletons in Steve’s closet. Hushed conversations about a friend in the hospital, about a friend they’d lost, about one they’d gotten back. Stories like you heard every single time you worked, but these felt different. The more you watched, the more you saw the string that tied all of them together. How it wasn’t just Steve looking out for his people, but them looking out for him and each other too.

A group of people that made no sense to be together but bonded in a way that couldn’t have happened peacefully.

Sometimes he would be talking to one of them – one of the preteens, or Robin, or Nancy Wheeler, or Jonathan Byers, or Joyce Byers, or the newly revived Sheriff Hopper – and would nervously glance your way like they didn’t want you to hear. You pretended not to.

If you could have stopped listening, you would have. But you heard and processed everything around you whether you wanted to or not.

Regardless of some of the strange things that floated into your ears, you never said a word about it. Never talked about the scar on his neck, or the scars on his sides you had gotten peeks at when he reached for something up high. Never asked why sometimes his whole body would start to react as if he was in a life or death situation, never questioned what triggered those moments. Never mentioned that when you weren’t working together, you could feel his eyes on you like a hawk, like you were one of the people he looked out for now too.

Never admitted how terrified that made you.

In return, he never asked why you would suddenly disappear for an hour and re-emerge with frozen fingers. Never pressed when you told him you were fine even though you couldn’t say it convincingly. Never forced you to talk when you fell silent or made you feel like you had to act a certain way or fulfill a certain need for him.

He just needed someone. Someone who knew, but didn’t know. Who saw the weight, saw the string that wound tight to him and his friends, saw when the mask started to crack and needed to be whisked away from prying eyes, and didn’t ask to know anymore than that.

You needed someone too. Someone who knew, but didn’t know. Who could see past the performance, see when the shadows drew in tighter and started to choke you, see that you were trying so fucking hard all the time. You needed someone who would understand that you were going to fight tooth and nail against the idea of needing someone – a trapped animal lashing out at anyone who tried to get close because they didn’t know if they were going to set it free or make the killing blow.

You didn’t know Steve could be that person until he proved it.

The day had started off shit. You’d woken up in a haze and debated if this was one of the days that would make you bury your head in the sand and wait for the storm to pass. Your first mistake was deciding to get up and go back to work anyway.

Your second mistake was putting Butter Handy Andy on dish washing duty.

You’d been talking to Vickie McAdams about the supplies you all had available for making dinner tonight when a huge crash came from inside the kitchen. Completely unprepared for a sudden noise that loud, you couldn’t hold in the yelp, couldn’t mask the way your entire body tensed, couldn’t help the way you immediately stopped in the middle of your sentence. Frozen, heart stuttering an uneven rhythm in your chest, the contents of your stomach kicking up, and people were staring. People were staring. Everyone was looking at you and thinking there was something wrong with you and you’re weak and broken.

Sweet, sweet Vickie, with a concerned furrow to her brow and a calm smile, asked, “Hey, are you okay?”

It took 75% of what you had left to put the act back on.

“Yup, just spooked me a little.” You laughed and then she laughed and then it felt like you had saved it, fooled them, protected yourself. It felt like the eyes were off of you.

Well, all except 2.

Your third mistake was stepping in between two men who had started an argument by the missing persons board.

Already running on fumes, you really should’ve thrown in the towel an hour ago. But giving up wasn’t a skill of yours and all that awaited you at home was silence and skeletons, so you kept the engine running. The disagreement had started quietly but quickly escalated into a screaming match in front of everyone in the room. Having forgotten yourself, gotten lost in the role you were playing as a coordinator and a leader, you’d immediately approached and tried to talk them down. Neither paid any attention to you and more people were starting to gather, either to watch or concerned they needed to do something. A baby nearby started to wail and the murmur of the gathering people grew and all the noise continued to grow into a tidal wave that rushed in your ears.

One of the men raised a fist like he was going to throw a punch. You rocketed forward, putting yourself between them with your hands out to try to stop him. And you did – the forward motion of his fist stopped. But then his other hand fisted in the fabric of your shirt near the collar and he tossed you away like you were nothing. You stumbled and then fell, gasping out in pain and shock as your tailbone made contact with the shiny, wooden floor.

The crowd descended then; pulling the two men apart before either of them could come to harm. People rushed for you, throwing out questions of ‘are you hurt?’, ‘what were you thinking?’, ‘are you okay?’ as hands you didn’t know forced you back to your feet. There were so many eyes and so many questions and so many hands and everyone was so close and everything was so loud and you couldn’t see and you couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t move and you couldn’t talk.

You ran.

Pushed your way through the small circle of near strangers that had formed around you and settled into a run toward the swinging kitchen door. Through the door, past where Andy was still dropping pots and pans into soapy water without a care in the world, past the walk in fridge, and out the back doors. The sun was setting but the air was still hot and humid and choking you as you kept fucking running. You didn’t know if anyone followed you, you didn’t even try to look. You just listened to the frantic beat of your heart that told you to keep going or else it would be the end of you.

Your feet carried you to a familiar place that you hadn’t seen in a few years. You ran out of breath and had to stop just as you reached the bleachers along the mile track behind the school. They were coated in shades of orange, making the dusty track beyond them look even older as the sun carried down toward the horizon.

Despite your lungs and legs not being able to run any further, you were still thrumming with adrenaline, muscles tensed, chest tight, heart and mind racing out of control. You couldn’t focus on anything, couldn’t stop, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get back in control.

A hand lightly tapped your shoulder and you swung.

Steve Harrington dodged your fist like a man who had taken more than his fair share of punches.

“Woah, hey, just me,” he offered calmly, hands coming up in a surrender gesture. The wire rim glasses were a recent addition, only a month or so old. You’d overheard one of his friends joke that maybe if he had taken one less knock to the noggin he wouldn’t need them. Hurt eyes or not, they flickered over you, caught sight of the heaving of your chest, the blood shot eyes, how you panted out between your teeth and arched your back like a cornered animal.

You certainly sounded a bit like one as you barked, “What the fuck do you want, Steve?”

He instinctively stepped back at the venom in your tone, eyes widening slightly in surprise. His mouth opened, closed, opened, and said nothing. The fear in his eyes quickly abated and then his expression fell. Not into one of pity or worry, like you normally expected. No, Steve looked at you like someone who knew, but didn’t know. Someone who understood. And it broke you.

Denim covered knees hit dust as you fell on them hard enough to hurt. You didn’t feel it, the physical pain, too distracted by the agony of your bleeding heart cracking your chest wide open. A sob tore from your throat as you buried your face into your sweaty hands and shook with the force of your tears. Gasping in a few sharp gulps of air as the cries continued to force themselves out of your mouth.

Firm, warm arms circled your shoulders and forced you off your knees and onto your ass and thigh, legs off to one side as your upper body made contact with a solid chest. His grip around you was tight, almost bone crushing, and despite the way you thought it would trigger you more, it was grounding. Something solid, something real, something physical while everything else felt like sand running right through your fingers. Despite the unexpected comfort offered, your sobs continued.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into your hair, barely audible due to your crying. “You’re safe.”

The word ‘safe’ made your bleeding heart shatter into pieces, another sharp wail leaving you as your nails started to dig into the skin of your face. Almost like he knew, Steve momentarily released one of his arms to force your hands away from your face and press them into his chest, encouraging your fingers to fist in his shirt instead. You obliged subconsciously, hands twisting in his loose t-shirt as you pressed your eyes into his shoulder instead. Satisfied, he returned both arms to his tight circle that held you pressed to him.

You don’t know how long you both sat there on the track behind Hawkins High School. Long enough for the automatic lights to flick on over the field and the sunset to dip into golden reds and purples as night crept closer. Long enough for your ass to fall asleep and for your crying to stop and for your breathing to return to normal and then even longer than that.

He didn’t pull away until you did, and even then it was with reluctance.

Making eye contact for the first time, you didn’t think before the words tumbled out of you. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he replied, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like his shirt wasn’t damp with your tears and he hadn’t followed you out here while you ran like your life depended on it.

Wanting to argue that you had plenty to be sorry for, instead you shifted gears to the part of you that desperately wanted to give some kind of excuse or a reason to what had just occurred. “I swear, I normally don’t-”

“It’s okay,” he interrupted you with a kind smile, one hand giving your knee a soft squeeze before returning to his own lap. “You don’t have to explain.”

The shattered bits of your heart that lay in the wasteland of your chest thumped once, twice.

“Thank you,” it came out of you as barely a whisper.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, eyes warm and gentle. “I’ve got you and you’ve got me.”

Thumped once, twice beneath the fear.

“I’ve got you and you’ve got me.”

thanks for reading!! if you liked it, please give it a reblog and leave a comment, as they make my day <3

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #steve harrington angst #stranger things hurt/comfort #myos ideas #myo4harrington

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wondersinwaynemanor · 2 months

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here i go again with "big brother dick grayson strikes again" prompts.

thinking of Dick probably helping his siblings on their first dates and offering to take them to the location.

Dick to Jason: Hey, Little Wing. I know you can take one of your motorcycles, but let me take you. You can just focus on being pretty.

Jason: Shut up, Dick. But, are you sure? I don't know why my hands feel a bit numb-

Dick, takes Jason's hands on his to warm them up and untighten the nerves there: It's okay. I got you. You're okay. It's going to be okay. Don't stress yourself out.

Jason: I know I fucked up many times, Dick. I don't want.. I don't know what to do if I fuck this up.

Dick, brings Jason closer: Shh. You won't, Jay. You're very smart and strong, and so so caring and you don't even realize it it. Ask the kids at the Alley, they idolize you. Roy adores you and everything you do. He knows who you are. And trust me, I'm not that bitter anymore of one of my best friends dating my younger brother.

Jason smiles which warms Dick's heart, making him smile too.

Dick: Plus, we wouldn't want Ollie to think that a Wayne cannot dress up and be romantic right?

Jason grins this time.

Dick to Tim: Timmy, I have a great idea! I'll drive you there. I know you're tired from work already. Just let me know which restaurant then you can rest a bit when we travel there.

Tim: It's okay, Dick. You're also tired from your shift. I'll just let Kon know I'll be late for a few-

Dick: No, no. If you want to rest first, let him know, he'll understand. But I'll still take you.

Tim: But, Dick...

Dick: Nah-uh. I didn't drive you to prom, remember? Let me do this, Baby Bird. And for me to also look out for Lex, just in case he bothers Conner again. We don't want that happening in the middle of your date.

Tim, laughs: Well, Kon will just have to drag Lex's ass to space.

Dick laughs with him.

Dick to Cass: Aww, you look beautiful, Cass. So where you going? Where will you meet Steph?

Cass, fixing her necklace: By her house.

Dick: Great! I already know where that is. I'll drive you there. We don't want to ruin your beauty. I mean, that's totally impossible, but I want you to just relax before the date.

Cass, blushes: I can do it.

Dick: Of course, you can. But I want to. Pretty please, pretty please. I'm a little protective over my sister.

Cass, rolls her eyes fondly but smiles: Of course. Thank you.

Dick: You're most welcome. And tell Steph if she does something extreme like set some fireworks, tell her to lay off with those energy drinks she started on her diet.

Dick to Duke: Little D, Little D! Don't even try to say no cus maybe your brothers and sister have already told you, but this is kinda my tradition now. I'm taking you to your first date.

Duke: They did tell me. But, Dick.. I don't want to be a burden. Weren't you injured-

Dick: No, no. That was like last week. I'm good. As long as you're good with me to take you, right? Now, I don't want to be the burden.

Duke, smiles: Never.

Dick, smiles and gives Duke a side hug: Then you're never a burden too, Little D. A big bro has to look out for the younger ones. Plus, I can say that you dressing up nice comes from my influence.

Duke, chuckles: Who else am I looking up to, right?

Dick to Damian: Shush, Dami. I know you're dating a super, and he can come and get you without a minute to spare, but tell Jon I'll be taking you.

Damian: Richard, please. I'm already at the right age.

Dick, puts a hand on his little (not so anymore) brother's shoulder and he refuses not to tear up (he fails ofc): I know, you've grown up so much, Dami. So much, since I made you Robin. But please, it will make me really happy to do this. It will give me peace, in some way. It sounds ridiculous, but yes.

Damian, doesn't even try to hide the fond he has on his face: Alright, Richard. I'll let Jon know.

Dick: He's not taking you somewhere out of Gotham or Metropolis, right? Cus then we'll have to take the Batplane.

Damian, chuckles: It's in Metropolis, don't worry.

Dick: Phew. I was as nervous as the time I took Tim on his date.

so....

maybe after a few years on Dick and Wally's wedding day, Dick's younger siblings will be walking with him on the aisle by his side and Bruce, their Father, on his other side of course. and they're thankful that the aisle is wide enough to fit the whole Wayne kids. Dick is a crying mess and he hasn't even reached Wally yet by the end of the aisle. because he's genuinely happy to have his siblings take him to the love of his life this time.

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mossdoesartshit · 2 months

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extermination day extermination always irritated vaggie. She had developed a major dislike of it upon being dropped into hell for showing mercy, which shouldve kept her in heaven than get her booted out, but she had found the love of her life here, so she couldnt complain. After the battle during the old hotels time, the exterminations had become far more erratic. sometimes theyd be only a month or so away, sometimes over a year. she had no doubts it was entirely because of lute, which she wasnt too fond of, but what could vaggie realistically do, her old sister in arms had always been a bit of a nutcase. besides, she had bigger fish to worry about right now. she and charlie were doing a headcount of people who had been in the hotel that day, (alastor, husk, nifty, the usual people, along with some hopefully quests to be) and there was one person distinctly missing "do i have to go get him?" vaggie asked, exasparated "come on please? he should be somewhere on the upper floors, i saw him walking up before the bell rang loud, besides you always have your weapon on you!" charlie begged, earning agreed mumblings of the others "If Safety Is Your Concern, Trust Me Vaggie, I Will Be Able To Handle Any Possible Nuisances While You're Getting Mister Bleeding Heart Back" alastor piped up, with that sickeningly sweet grin of his. She rolled her eyes, and groaned out a soft "fiine" as she moved to go up the hotel. Thank Fucking Lucifer that he had installed an elevator into the hotel, because boy howdy if vaggie had had to walk up the flight of stairs just to get Adam she would not have even considered it. Eventually, she found him on the roof, watching the carnage. "come on Adam, i know youre probably so fucking hard about all the destruction and shit, but you wont be safe from them killing you" Adam didnt turn to look at vaggie, instead closing his wings around himself as best he could, and "I can still recognize them you know" "huh?" with one wing, adam pointed down to two exterminators "that right there is lyre, ruthless as ever, but she has that methodical work flow, kind of like a dance. i think they partnered her with a newbie, which is good- well. bad, but. good from a combat standpoint- because she'll get good pointers at the end" vaggie looked down at the next group of exterminators that adam pointed to "over there is janatha, still fumbling with her stabs and pierces as ever. shes in a bigger squad, but they always worked well together, even if theyre a bit chaotic" an explosion blew up relatively near them, and adam looked over to it with sluggish movements "must be lute... say vags-" "vaggie." "-vaggie, do you remember flute?" "huh? you mean lutes sister?" "mmhm, lutes always been pretty ruthless, but that can leave her open at the back, flute would have covered her but. i think she was killed a few exterminations ago, the one that weapons dealer got. i think theyve tried to pair her with others but i always see her alone" vaggie stood there stunned "i. didnt think you were telling the truth when you said you recognized me. i thought you'd been bluffing or that lute had told you, given..." "well, thats the view souls have of me i suppose. liar down to a t. but i do recognize all of them. i just regret that my blind rage cost the lives of several of them and... lutes arm" another explosion closer to them alerted vaggie to grab adams shoulder "come on, charlies going to get worried if you keep me standing here, cant have you getting killed now that shes done so much work on you" "whatever you say vaggie" adam said, solemnly looking behind to where theyd spotted lute, before walking with vaggie to the elevator to get to the more bunkered area

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riskyraiker · 1 month

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Hello!!! I hope you're doing alright! I was wondering if I can make a request for cybertronain! Prince reader? For transformer prime please!! Thank you❤️

Gosh I love this😍 I'm just not sure if Prince is a higher title than a Prime but now it is! Also readers father is alpha trion. I'm not catched up on the lore that well😭Sorry if this took so long I have other requests as well😔

TFP bots with Cybertronian! Prince Y/N

Alpha trion made you evacuate Iacon immediately the first big attack happened. Running with other bots, you saw some hurt and struggling. As a prince you should help them! Running back for the bots, the decepticons were coming closer. Hurrying with the bots they get shot right there and then, shocked and pained about the loss you still continued running. The last escape pod is still there! Jumping in you go into statis sleep, missing eons while you're at it. You didn't wake up when the pod opened, no no no! You woke up with a few bots surrounding you with a look like they've seen a ghost. Wait? Is that the one and only Optimus Prime?! You stood up without a word and all of them kneeled. "By the all spark, no need to kneel. I don't hold my title close to my spark. Please rise up!"

He has high respect for you since you're a prince!

Optimus Prime

Might call you "your highness", but will not if you don't want that.

Since you're a prince he would NEVER put you in danger.

In battles you two are unstoppable! A prime and a prince? The vehicons are running away (woop! There they go!)

He would be interested how Alpha Trion was your sire and what he was truly like (if that's a sensitive subject he respects that)

You might think he would be your new sire. Oh no no no. He's your brother now😋 you're the same age!

He would tell you anything you want to know what happened when you were asleep in statis.

Ratchet

He would actually be nicer to you since you're a prince!

You're hurt? Not anymore, Ratchet has it covered

He actually might show his concern for you and the team, but really rarely! He's a grumpy one☹️

Would call you "your highness", but if you don't like it he might struggle with remembering it.

He's surprised how much you know about technology as a prince. He also loves your help in experiments with synth-en or anything else.

He did expect you to be a strict royalty and make them kneel and all, but was relieved you were an innocent piece of pie😔

Bumblebee

He's now your nephew since Optimus is your bro😋

Will call you "your highness" when he's joking or messing with you.

Best driver buddy you could ask for!

If he's ever bored, there will be a story time demanded from you!

Is so interested how being a prince works on Cybertron or what it is like!

Arcee

He would melt if you compliment his bleeps and bloops. That you're proud of him after all what he went through and all 😔❤️

He's a hugger! He would give you random hugs sometimes, if you like them ofc

He's a bot who you can talk to about ANYTHING!!!

She would be confused that you don't want them kneeling or calling you "your highness"

Grows fond of you after a few days since she never trusts anyone until they're proven good.

You're a Prince so you pass pretty easily 😧

She would question you about tour tasks and missions on Cybertron and how easy it was.

Would talk about loss to you. You both understand the feeling.

Bulkhead & Wheeljack

Won't ever call you "your highness" she's pretty much the only one who never did in the start either.

If she's in a sassy mood she would bow to you and just joke around.

You're the calm friend duo :)

Wheeljack won't kneel! And you appreciate it, which confuses him. He though you would be like Ultra Magnus, strict and serious.

Bulkhead would be embarrassed about his skills around you until you comfort him.

You get along with the wreckers really well!

They both might use "your highness" as a joke sometimes, but only bulkhead would stop after your request.

All of you would rock on with Miko!!

You switch alot to act like a wrecker or a royalty. Depends on what mood you are or what mission is there to be done.

Have fun playing with them with the metal ball (i forgot if there was a name for the game they play😭)

Smokescreen

He would kneel, salute, call you "your highness" literally anything to show his respect for you.

Just give give him a talk and he'll stop being so goofy :)

You're drowning in questions from him when you have the time to talk.

He's your son! And Optimus will be his uncle from now on😋

The chaotic father and son! Well not always chaotic, but you get how he is xD

You might have to give him a peptalk sometimes since he's just a small itty bitty bot😔 im kidding he's just so stupid sometimes

If either of you got hurt, neither will leave until they can take care of themselves

Ultra Magnus

Would not stop calling you "your highness" even if you request him to stop.

He keeps his cold and strict act close to you. Maybe even stricter to show how professional he is.

Would be flabbergasped if you would let wheeljack get away with ease after exploding a whole energon mine.

"Your highness, with all respect, are you sure he gets to go already?"

After enough time and complaining from you he starts to call you by your real name! He earns a hug he doesn't know how to return 😔🫶

Would be interested in royal training and such!

---------------------------------------

AN: I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS😭😭😭 I APOLOGIZE FOR ANY MISTAKES IN WRITING OR CHARACTER PERSONALITIES!!! I'm so tired i'll go to sleep, have a good night, day, morning or evening<3

#optimus prime x reader #tfp x reader #bumblebee x reader #ratchet x reader #bulkhead x reader #arcee x reader #wheeljack x reader #smokescreen x reader #ultra magnus x reader

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 1 year

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Ok no let me explain you a thing.

I can't take it. I literally can't take this moment without making a sound somewhere in the back of my throat. It's the cutest thing ever and it's this frame here that makes it.

Look, I know this is Wan. I know Wan isn't really canon and this is the preschool episode so it's even less so. But there's something in here that is an absolutely canon thing Akutagawa does.

The scene starts off with Akutagawa's typical reverence and excitement that Dazai is sitting near him. Nothing particularly notable there. But then Dazai gets excited by what's going on and Akutagawa gives him this look and I just can't take it man.

Because that's a genuinely fond look. He's happy for him. He's happy Dazai is enjoying himself.

And that's not just a Wan thing. He says along those lines to Kyouka in one of my all-time favourite BSD scenes in general.

It just. I just have a lot of feelings about that. This is a guy who, we know from Heartless Cur and the beginning of Beast, has very little in the way of emotion - but when he does feel, it's rather all-encompassing, even overwhelmingly strong. Things like rage and desperation. It's raw survival instinct.

But then he has. This too.

Here's the thing. In the preschool chapter, silly as it is, Dazai is still fixated on suicide. He has the noose, just doesn't speak about it openly. So, it's probably quite rare that Dazai shows genuine enjoyment the way he did here - and that's worth that small smile.

In the main universe, Akutagawa remembers how Kyouka hated herself to the point of asking to be killed, then sees how fierce she is about defending her new life and self, and decides that he's glad for her.

It really means something to me that one of the very few relational emotions he allows himself to feel is happiness and pride on others' behalf.

It roots itself less in compassion or happiness itself and more in a sense of respect... but remember that Akutagawa hardly gives his respect easily. He gives his respect only to those he considers strong, and in nearly every battle, he finds himself disappointed. What he wants is kind of contradictory - he wants a worthy opponent, so someone who poses a strong challenge to him to prove his own worth as one who will never be weak again... and yet, when they lose against him, he's often disappointed they did not succeed or fight harder, and looks down on them.

Atsushi's motive, or what he initially thinks his motive is, is disappointing to him at first - Akutagawa believes he is trying to prove himself as worthy of living through someone else's acceptance and berates him for it. But that's... exactly what he has been doing. Later on, he continues to question Atsushi for his motives, in yet another of one of my favourite scenes.

He asks him over and over - "why?" And is not satisfied until Atsushi reveals that he's also looking to get rid of the shadow of the orphanage director that follows him like a haunting - that trauma? All that pain thrown in his face? He is fighting to overcome it. He is fighting via proof and change because Atsushi wants to live, and to not have to feel ashamed of that. And that's what it took for Akutagawa to trust him and respect him enough to transfer Rashoumon to him.

I think, on some level, Akutagawa is invested in seeing whether Atsushi will succeed in this. And I think, in spite of everything between them, he will be glad for him if he does.

I just really love this aspect to his character, because while he searches for strength in violence and power and physical skill, it means on a deeper level, he actually sees joy and resistance in the face of despair as true strength that's worth acknowledging.

I want him so badly to accept that as true strength within himself in the main timeline.

I also love it because Beast confirms that Akutagawa would do anything for his sister and I am now free to imagine Gin telling her brother all the things she was learning and how she was slowly connecting to the Black Lizard and feeling overwhelming pride for her but not really expressing that but Gin knowing that's how he felt regardless, anyways that is all

Is this even coherent anymore? Oh well.

#me making an analysis that reads too much into wan number 28746837 #sorry but it drives me crazy and i needed to spew #bsd #bsd meta #...i guess.#bsd akutagawa #bsd dazai #bsd kyouka #bsd atsushi #bsd gin #storyrambles

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ragingbookdragon · 1 year

Text

Conversations With A Stranger You Barely Know

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1K Warnings: None

Author's Note: :D -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She didn’t have to look up from the computer to know who walked into her office; with a smile, she greeted warmly, “Good morning, Lieutenant Riley. Right on time as usual.”

He grunted in return, collapsing into the patient chair.

“How’s the journaling going? Any new prompts since last time?”

“Few,” he muttered. “Wrote about when I was a kid.”

“That’s good progress. Would you like to talk about what you wrote?”

“Not particularly.”

She smiled and stood up, gathering her clipboard and pen. “Of course, as you know there’s never any pressure to share.” Sitting beside him, she crossed a leg over the other and gazed at him. “How have you been sleeping? Is the melatonin working any?”

He grunted, staring at the ceiling. “Stopped taking it.”

“Oh?”

“Started giving me weird dreams.”

“Nightmares?” she asked as she wrote something down.

“Not necessarily nightmares, not like the dreams I usually have, just…weird. Odd.”

“Any you’d perhaps like to describe?”

Simon blinked slowly. “I was driving on a road. Backwoods, a place I didn’t recognize. Just aimlessly driving.”

She watched him. “Do you remember how you felt when you were driving? Anxious? Sad? Content?”

“Unbothered. Like I was there driving because I could.”

“Alright, did anything else happen in the dream?”

“I stopped on the side of the road…a bird was on my side mirror.” Simon’s eyes narrowed. “A red bird.”

“Can you describe the bird?”

“Orange beak. Black face. Pointy top.”

She wrote something else down. “I think you’re describing a cardinal. Interesting.”

He turned his head. “What is?”

She tapped her pen on the board. “Cardinals, in many cultures and religions symbolize the…spirit, I guess you could say of a loved one who has passed. Typically, when you see a cardinal, it’s a sign that a loved one is visiting you.”

“I haven’t lost anyone. My family is all alive.”

“Have you recently lost any of your team?”

Simon looked away. “…Yeah…but he wasn’t a loved one. A friend. A teammate.”

She hummed. “Friends can be as close as family sometimes, Lieutenant. Perhaps this person was closer than you thought.”

“He betrayed us in Mexico.”

“I see…” she kept writing. “Lieutenant, do you sometimes think that despite the cool exterior and arm’s length attitude, you find your teammates closer than simple friends? That the idea of betrayal or abandonment means more to you than you care to admit?”

He kept silent, eyes still glued upwards. “Familiarity breeds contempt.”

She chuckled. “Fair counter, Lieutenant.” She looked up from her clipboard. “Tell me about a happy memory.”

He sighed. “Do I have to?”

“I can keep making points and asking questions that make you uncomfortable to think about because you’re having to admit that your values and decisions are being challenged in way you’re not fond of?”

He glared at the ceiling. “Why did Price make me come here?”

She smiled. “Because he recognized you needed to work through some things and not on your own like you usually do.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“I never said there was, Lieutenant. And there doesn’t have to be anything wrong with you in order to see a therapist. However, you cannot hide the fact that your childhood, career, and personal traumas and choices have formed who you are as a person. Even if you have worked through them by forcing yourself to be cold and unfeeling, you’re still a human being. You still have the same feelings and thought process that we all do. If nothing else, talking, helps you to let some of that sunken feeling come to the surface and be recognized and assessed.”

Simon’s expression had pinched beneath his mask, and he grumbled to himself before sighing. “I don’t like admitting I trust my closest teammates because I’m scared they’ll betray me and I don’t know if I can recover from something like that.”

She gave him a thoughtful smile. “Ghost, have you ever shared these concerns with the people on your team?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not weak.”

“No, you’re not. But you tell the stories of these men and women who fight alongside you. You seem to heavily rely on the One-Four-One. On soldiers like Captain Price and Sergeant MacTavish.”

“…Yeah…”

“Lieutenant, how many times have either men saved or defended you in a fight?”

“More times than I can count.”

“And has there ever been a time, with either of them, that in the midst of battle, you have ever feared that they would leave you behind or do you harm? Even when you first met them and fought beside them?”

Simon was silent for a long time, then he shook his head. “No. There never has.”

“Lieutenant, the fear of being betrayed is one you’ve had since you were a child. Your father, from what you’ve told of me, betrayed your trust as a child. From there, you learned you could only rely on yourself, and you have a hard time opening up to those who are there to help you too. You find it hard to trust just about anyone, especially those who are there to watch your back.”

“How am I supposed to trust someone if in the future they may turn?”

“To trust someone is to have faith in them, Lieutenant. It’s to put your faith into their hands. And you’re correct, it’s not something that’s guaranteed. Because of this, you truly may never trust Captain Price or Sergeant MacTavish, but I ask this of you, do you think that the two of them trust you with their lives? That if they were in trouble, backs up against the wall, would they call you to help them? Would they trust you when the moment called for it?”

Before he could answer, a shrill ringtone went off and they both jumped, Simon grabbing his phone as he sat upright. “Ghost…yes sir…I understand…I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and stood. “Afraid I have to cut this short, Doc.”

“I understand, Lieutenant. Duty calls. Think about today’s session, write in your journal if you feel up to it.” She watched as he headed for the door. “We’ve made good progress, Lieutenant. I hope next week’s session is as productive as today's.”

His hand pulled the door open, and he paused. “Doc?”

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“They would.”

“I’m sorry?”

Simon looked at her. “Price and Johnny…they’d call me for help.”

She smiled. “And would you be there?”

“In a heartbeat.”

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temptingfatetakingnames · 7 months

Text

The Last Steve Harrington Part 9

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

It was another beautiful summer day and Steve had taken the Chevy out for a drive. With the windows rolled down, he drove out to a country road listening to Hopper’s Johnny Cash tape. He had spoken to Hopper about borrowing the car and after a quick trip together to make sure Steve remembered how to drive, he had given the green light. There was a moment before he handed Steve the keys where he was sure Hopper thought he would never see him again. He didn’t really know what to do with the trust – that even though the thought crossed his mind that Steve might run, might take his car and go – Hopper gave him the keys anyway. It was a good feeling, knowing that he could take the car and leave if he needed to. Today, he needed to.

It was strange having Johnathan and Argyle in the house. They were generally very quiet but Steve still found his carefully crafted peace disturbed. They were two more people who asked questions, who he had to dance around and avoid. Argyle kept offering him weed, which seemed like the best and worse idea imaginable. Steve couldn’t deny that he was tempted but the fear of a panic attack always held him off. Johnathan didn’t talk much, which he was grateful for. He was much more reserved than the Johnathon Steve had known and he was unsure what to make of him. The feeling seemed mutual – he caught Johnathan staring at him a few times.

Nancy had only stayed long enough that first night to see Steve before heading home with the promise that she would be back soon. She had pulled him into a tight hug before she left, his frigid stance not dissuading her. Her scent had engulfed him – had overwhelmed him with memories and fondness – reminding him of first kisses and falling in love, of heartbreak and moving on. Her and Johnathan had fit so much better and Steve couldn’t be bitter when they realized it. They had tried to hide it from him at first, like he wouldn’t be able to tell when two of his best friends started dating. He could be oblivious, but not that oblivious.

The country road continued in front of him for miles, the music was loud and the wind blew his hair wildly around his face. He could keep driving, keep going until he found a place that didn’t know the name Steve Harrington. Start over fresh. It was his original plan to leave once he was well enough, prepared enough. But the thought wasn’t as enticing as it once was. His stomach rumbled and he was surprised to see the clock read almost 1:00 p.m. He did a quick U-turn and started the drive back home.

Home…?

He didn’t know when he started to consider the Hopper-Byers’ house home. They were all just so good to him. Too good. Hopper and Joyce were understanding, Will and Eleven were easy to be around and kind. The only thing Steve had to really compare it too was Eds’ and Wayne’s trailer. They both had the same warmth, the same feeling that Steve always found difficult to describe – the easy comfort of a safe place where he was loved, welcome, wanted – home, he now considered.

When he pulled up to the house, Joyce’s car was gone and so were Will’s and Eleven’s bikes. He wasn’t sure who would be home when he walked in the door. He heard banging and muttering coming from the kitchen when he walked past so he peered in to see who it was. Argyle had his head in the freezer and was digging around. If his muttering was anything to go by, he wasn’t finding what he wanted. He hadn’t noticed Steve standing in the doorway yet; he could still leave and Argyle wouldn’t know. But this was his home, and Argyle was looking for something.

“Hey, what are you looking for?” Steve asked as he walked into the room.

“Steve!” Argyle exclaimed as he pulled his head out of the freezer. “Where does Joyce keep her dough? I want to make a pizza. I found everything else I need, but no dough.”

Steve scrunched his face in confusion. Why would he be looking for dough in the freezer?

“She has flour and yeast in the cupboard,” he said pointing across the room.

“Flour is not going to cut it, my dude. I am looking for some premium premade dough balls.”

“Didn’t you make your own dough at Surfer Boy?”

“Of course! Trent always went in early to prepare a bunch and freeze it for the day. I was the toppings man… not the dough man.”

Steve smiled and walked over to the cupboard, grabbing out the flour, yeast, and sugar before turning back to Argyle. “Well, I guess today you get to be both.”

Steve set to work mixing the ingredients into a large bowl as Argyle watched intently. They settled into a routine as Steve explained the process. There were a few moments where they had to wait for it to rest or rise that Steve was afraid would turn awkward but Argyle was good at keeping up a mostly one-sided conversation. When it was ready, Argyle took over and started flipping the dough above his head like a true professional.

“What do you like on your pie, Steve?”

He shrugged. “I’m not picky, I’ll eat whatever you put on yours.”

Argyle tsked at him and wagged a finger in his face after he slapped the now rounded dough on the counter. “No can do my dude, of course you can try a slice of my delicious pineapple fiesta but you gotta have your own, too.” Argyle spread his hands out in front of the toppings he had pulled out like he was a game show host showing off the prizes. “What appeals to your current mood and hunger?”

“Mushrooms, onions, and…” Steve looked at the available options and pursed his lips in thought, “ham.”

Argyle nodded enthusiastically and smiled wide. “Good choices, a well-rounded pie.”

Steve started cleaning up while Argyle put his toppings on one side of the pizza and Steve’s on the other and then popped it in the oven. Nothing to do now but wait for it to be ready but Steve didn’t know how to politely excuse himself. Argyle just kept smiling at him and nodding slowly.

“Thanks for the help, you’d make a fine dough boy my dimension hopping buddy.”

“You’re welcome,” Steve said as he raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ll keep that in mind for when I decide on my future career plans.”

Argyle nodded sagely and then asked, “does it feel weird?”

Steve blinked at him, having no clue what the hell that question meant. “Does what feel weird?”

“Being outside your dimension or universe or whatever. I once wore my shoes on the wrong feet for a whole day and I could tell that something was off but I didn’t figure out why until I got home and took my shoes off and everything felt right again. Does it feel like that?”

That… was a surprisingly insightful observation. Steve did feel constantly off balance – especially when he had to interact with the other versions of people he had known well in his universe. He was always making comparisons in his head, wishing he could stop because it was exhausting. But how do you stop? How do you forget?

“It does feel weird. It’s been weeks now and it hasn’t got better, I – I’m afraid it never will,” Steve said, looking away.

This was a fear he hadn’t spoken aloud to anyone. Steve didn’t know why he admitted it to Argyle of all people. The other man came over to him and put his hands on his shoulders. Steve flinched a little but held steady as Argyle looked him in the eyes intently.

“It will. If I kept wearing my shoes the wrong way eventually I would have got used to it, right? Then putting them on the other way would have felt wrong. It’s time, man. It just takes time.”

Time. Steve had spent a year surviving an apocalypse – he remembered the first few days thinking he would never make it, but like Argyle had said – it had become his normal… Eventually. Now, trying to live life normally did feel wrong.

He nodded and Argyle dropped his hands before bending down to check on the pizza in the oven. A peaceful quiet settled over them as they waited for it to be ready.

---

Later that evening, he was reading in his room, hiding from everyone. Dinner had been loud and chaotic and Steve needed some time to himself afterwards. He found that he truly enjoyed sitting down for dinner with them all, even if he still didn’t talk much. The feeling of a family coming together after a long day and catching up with each other was… good. Food was passed around haphazardly and multiple conversations were going on at once and it was a lot for him and hurt his head a little, but he liked it. Joyce would always quietly ask how his day was and Will and Eleven always made a point to tell him how the rest of the kids were doing. It felt like family. Even though Steve was still holding himself back from them they kept trying to include him. Sitting at that table, he realized how easy it could be �� to have them, to let them in.

That scared him. So, as soon as dinner was over, he ran to his room. He still felt like he didn’t deserve them and kept trying to squash that ball of sunshine glowing in his chest when they included him in their family.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. He set The Princess Bride aside and called, “come in,” expecting Joyce or the kids. He wasn’t expecting Johnathan.

“Hey,” he said as he entered the room.

“Hey,” Steve replied.

“Nancy is coming over tonight and I was wondering if we could invite Robin and Eddie over, too? We haven’t seen them in awhile and it would be good to get the gang together, if you’re up for it.”

Steve didn’t know why he had to be there or give his permission. This was Johnathan’s house more than it was Steve’s; he could invite anyone he wanted over. He supposed he was really asking if Steve would hang out with them. His first impulse was to say no. His first impulse was always to say no. But that impulse also made him think of the promise he had made – that damn promise.

He used to love getting together with friends. Drinking and laughing and swimming. He was the life of the party, once upon a time. He didn’t know how to get that part of himself back, didn’t know how to be carefree and light anymore.

But… he had promised to try.

“Sure,” Steve said and hoped he wouldn’t regret it.

---

He regretted it.

He found himself in the same predicament he always seemed to find himself in nowadays – he didn’t know what to say. Nancy and Jonathan were sitting on the couch across from him, open expressions on their faces like they were waiting for him to spill his entire life story.

No, thank you.

He had already done that once and would not be doing it again.

Robin was sitting close beside him, their knees touching. She was always touching him. Completely without hesitation, she would reach out at any time – and he didn’t know why but she never made him flinch. Eddie and Argyle were both on the floor, talking quietly with their heads together. Steve wanted to pull Argyle’s fucking hair. Wanted to pull him away from Eddie until he was sitting at an appropriate distance. He sipped his beer and tried to ignore them.

“So, what have you been up to?” Nancy asked.

How do you say absolutely nothing without saying absolutely nothing?

“Resting, mostly,” he replied, “reading, hanging out with the kids. What about you guys?”

“I’m going to school for journalism and Johnathan is working as a photographer. He’s growing his own business.”

Steve nodded, unsurprised. That fit with what his Nancy and Johnathan would have pursued too. The silence grew between them as they all seemed to think of what else to say to each other.

Steve turned to Robin. “You graduated, right? Why are you still in Hawkins?”

“I did graduate and was all set to go to university but…” she trailed off and looked away, her hands fidgeting with the bottom of her shirt.

“But what, Robs?” he asked gently.

She looked back at him. “But then Steve died and it didn’t feel right to leave without him. I manage Family Video now.”

It was his turn to look away from her. He saw Nancy looking at Robin with a deeply sympathetic look on her face and Steve wondered if there was more to the story. He didn’t want to push her about it though, especially when it was about Other Steve.

“You could go now. It’s not too late,” he said instead.

Nancy nodded enthusiastically. “You could!”

“Maybe,” Robin said still sounding sad, “but not yet.”

“Hey, if you’re the manager maybe you could give me a job? Part time, just one or two shifts a week? I need something to do.”

“Yes! Of course, I can!” Robin said and smiled at him so brightly you’d think he’d just given her a gift that she had been waiting her whole life for.

He smiled back at her. Working with Robin part time would be a good way of getting out more and he was grateful for the opportunity to make his own money. One step closer to independence. Hopper and Joyce never made him feel like a burden but he hated having to rely on anyone for his needs.

“Thanks, Rob.”

The conversation flowed more easily after that as everyone got caught up with each other. Eddie and Argyle finished their conversation and joined the group, which took some of the pressure off Steve. They complained about their jobs and the terrible customers they had to deal with, blowing off steam by trying to one-up each other. Steve learned that Eddie was working as a mechanic. Eds had been good with cars too, so that didn’t surprise him.

Steve moved around the room, sipping his beer and chatting, mostly with Argyle and Robin. The beers loosened his tongue and he was feeling pleasantly drunk when Nancy asked him about his universe – she wanted to know what it was like. The conversations around him quieted as they all seemed to wait for him to decide if he was going to answer or not. He certainly hadn’t been willing to talk about it before and he knew they must be curious. So, he told them that in general their universes seemed very similar, most of the differences started after Vecna. He told them about the sky and how much he had missed having weather, and his anecdote about Madonna made everyone laugh. He tried to steer the conversation away from The Upside Down as much as possible, not wanting to talk about those differences but Nancy had other plans.

“How did we die?” she asked suddenly.

Her eyes were red and a little unfocused, they were all drunk by this point but that question poured ice cold water down Steve’s back.

Flashes of blood, of sightless eyes staring up at a red sky, of screams filling the air overwhelmed him. Steve shook his head, hoping to clear the memories from his mind. Felt anger rise up in their place. Nancy wanted to know how she died? Wanted to know how they all died?

Well, Steve would fill her in.

“Johnathan died trying to get to Will, a Demogorgon cut him clean in half. He was still screaming as he watched him get taken by the Mind Flayer. Vecna killed Nancy, snapped her neck like it was nothing. Robin was crushed and suffocated by The Mind Flayer. Argyle burned alive. He was throwing a Molotov when a bat attacked him and he dropped it.”

He paused and looked at Eddie. “Eds…he died in my arms after being torn apart by Demobats. Anyone else’s deaths you want to hear about? Maybe Mike’s? Or Dustin’s?”

The silence was loud. They were all looking at him, horrified. He put his beer on the table and got up. He walked up the stairs calmly and out the front door. Sitting on the front steps he tried to calm his racing heart, ashamed of what he had said. It was a question he probably would have asked if their positions were reversed. Anyone would be curious to know how they died in another universe. Nancy also would never have asked if she wasn’t drunk. He dropped his head between his knees and sighed. He didn’t want to go back in there. After a moment he heard the door open and close behind him.

He expected Robin so he was surprised by the manly grunt his new companion let out as he sat beside him on the step.

“I think I owe you an apology,” Eddie said.

Steve couldn’t help but snort at that.

“Okay. I definitely owe you an apology.”

“I’m waiting,” Steve said as he lifted his head and turned towards him.

“I am sorry,” Eddie continued, “for how I treated you in the hospital. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

Steve nodded, fighting back tears. “You didn’t know.”

“I’d like to explain why I was such an asshole, if that’s okay?”

“Sure, Eddie.”

“I wasn’t being facetious when I said I died the other day. I was torn apart by bats just like – just like Eds was but Vecna brought me back. He used me to get close to Eleven and the kids. I was screaming at them not to trust me, but they did. They were so happy to see me, that I was alive that they didn’t question how. That’s why I didn’t trust you. Just because you have someone’s face doesn’t mean you can be trusted. And the kids – fuck. You have no idea what they were like those first few days you were in the hospital. They were freaking out, man. Blaming themselves for taking too long. They were expecting Steve – who always just seemed to let all that shit roll off him, ya know? And instead…” Eddie seemed to realize where he was going and stopped mid-sentence.

“Instead, they got me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Maybe not. But it’s the truth.”

Eddie looked at him intently. “You think I didn’t blame myself when I was doing what Vecna ordered me to do? Afterwards, when I tried to apologize, they wouldn’t let me. It was… hard, getting back to myself after that. I guess I just understand a little, maybe – about what you’re going through.”

Steve thought about it. Maybe…Eddie could understand a little. At least about the after part anyway, the getting back to normal part. But Eddie wasn’t to blame for his actions when he was being controlled by Vecna, Steve had no one else to blame but himself. It wasn’t the same, but it was something.

“Did you hurt them?” he asked.

Eddie shook his head. “I was a spy, I told Vecna everything that they were planning. I broke free before he ordered me to hurt them, though I could feel how much he wanted Eleven dead.”

“How did you break free?”

“Eleven. She knew something wasn’t right but it took her awhile to figure out the connection between me and Vecna. He left me torn up, made it look like I had crawled my way out of The Upside Down so I would be less suspicious. She thought it was the bat bites that she was sensing, not Vecna. Took her awhile to find him, longer to get him out.”

Steve couldn’t imagine having someone in his mind, ordering him around, ordering him to spy on the people he loved. It probably wasn’t something Eddie liked to talk about, but he was grateful that he told him. It helped. Their situations weren’t the exact same, but the guilt Eddie felt… Yeah, he understood guilt.

“Thank you,” Steve said, “I appreciate you explaining. I didn’t understand why you were so angry at me.”

Eddie winced. “I really was an ass. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah? How are you going to do that?”

“It’s a surprise, but I think you’ll like it. I’ll pick you up at 11:00, let ya sleep in a little, hmm?”

Once again, his first impulse was to say no. After tonight he wanted to hide out in his room and never come back out.

But it was Eddie. How could he say no to Eddie?

He nodded. “11:00 sounds good.”

---

Part 10

@just-a-tiny-void @mx-jinxous @child-of-cthulhu @awholedamnmesstbh @phoenix0bird @queenie-ofthe-void @bookworm0690 @estrellami-1 @hbyrde36 @a-gae-af-racoon @nailbatandfreak @newtstabber @novelnovella @meela86 @lenathegay @vampireinthesun @penny00dreadful @questionablequeeries @espressopatronum454 @r0binscript @seths-rogens @fruity-nerd @sani-86 @n0-1-important @swimmingbirdrunningrock @ellietheasexylibrarian @manda-panda-monium @paintsplatteredandimperfect @viridianphtalo @goodolefashionedloverboi @13catastrophic-blues

Thank you all so much for you comments, likes, and reblogs! I cherish each and every one. This community has been so lovely and welcoming. Thank you <3

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #angst with a happy ending #multiverse #slow burn #robin buckley #the party

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winepresswrath · 5 months

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hi! i always love your MDZS/CQL takes; can i ask what are the questions you think CQL is asking, as compared to MDZS?

I haven't actually revisited either canon in ages, which is making me nervous. what questions the novel is interested in can be pretty contentious all on its own! @mikkeneko has an excellent answer in the notes here which I reccomend to everyone. My own thoughts are honestly pretty scattered- I keep on deleting things and going hm, that's not quite right.

So, for the obvious-to-me example, people reasonably zero in on the creation of innocent doctors/radish farmers who Wen Ruohan is holding hostage. In CQL it's easy to infer that Wen Qing and Wen Ning are maybe the only cultivators and almost certainly the only combatants among the Wen remnants, and their status is much more ambiguous in the novel, which I personally think is asking, essentially, "and so what? were they wrong to run, when they had a chance? Do they deserve what Jin Guangshan will do to them if they go back? Aren't they just people, actually?" Whereas the question that CQL is asking is more to the effect of "What does Wen Qing owe these people, when she is their only defence? What is she entitled to do to save them, at other people's expense? If she fucks up that moral calculus, what then? Does it matter if she's personally fond of some of the outsiders who are going to get hurt? If one of them saved her brother? Later, this question will flip to what Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, and the parallel to Jiang Cheng's situation in particular is, I think, genuinely pretty fun. You're giving up the Wen as soldiers who've laid down their arms in exchange for Wen Qing also grappling with leadership and the question of how many horrors she can stand to look the other way on to protect her own people. one reason I keep deleting so much is that a lot cql's changes were motivated at least in part by censorship, which I think we mostly share a general and justified distaste for! but I also think that within the bounds of that censorship the creative team put a lot of work into actually doing something interesting with those changes. Or, for another example- nieyao! There's a much greater emphasis on the nmj-jgy relationship, it's unambiguously very close and they are clearly extremely important to one another, and I think that's because the cql team has a lot to say about love, trust, power, and the ways those things interact, and that reflects back on all of the other relationships in play, including Wangxian. Almost every time, when CQL chooses change a relationship they make the characters in question closer- that's true for Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji, for Wen Qing and the Yunmeng contingent, for Zixuan and Mianmian, and Huaisang and Meng Yao. It's even true for Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, who have a close and trusting relationship in first life! CQL puts a much greater emphasis on "all right, so you care, what next?" How do you choose someone and then choose to be good to them? What if there's a massive power disparity between you? What if you seriously disagree about your priorities and morals? How do you trust someone who's betrayed you? When is it a stupid choice to trust at all? How do you have faith that you know someone well enough for that trust to be meaningful?

for legal reasons i would like to specify that it's not that mdzs isn't interested in these problems. i do remember wangxian's literal trust fall. cql is asking these questions all the time about everyone. also for legal purposes i'm not suggesting that cql lwj and jc love each other. but! they establish a three month wartime partnership looking for wwx and then jc immediately drops him on wwx's say-so despite apparently having a positive enough opinion of him to tell wwx he thinks they should make up twice. lan wangji will later tell wwx he thinks he should loop jc in on the second flautist! these are people trying to navigate some kind of relationship/shared interest/community, as opposed to a hateful void. cql wants to say hey, how do you go about this? while I'm here and rambling cql also puts a lot of emphasis on wwx's connection to yunmeng and changes things up so instead of feeling alienated right before he leaves our last glimpse of him there is happily picking lotuses and playing with a kid! in both stories the narrative is asking who do you protect? who do you leave behind? can you ever get it back? but the angles are very different.

#why are there so many people who simultaneously argue that cql dumbs down mdzs and also that mdzs is the slow reveal of how wwx is a #perfect angel who has never done anything wrong in his life #being let down by everyone around him #surely you have to pick an option #but lan wangji and wei wuxian being close friends in the first life really does change everything #i have seen people (reasonably) be annoyed with this as an adaptation choice #but! i like this change a lot and i think they do interesting things with it #There's still a lot of emphasis on what makes them so particularly perfect for each other but imo moving Lan Wangji into the category of #people wwx loved in the first life #shifts the focus from #when will they get together #to #What it would take and what would they have to do for these people to have to do to have a successful partnership?#If loving someone is the first step what comes next? Who do I want to be to the people around me?#i love the focus on wwx's trust issues as trust issues! problems that he's had with lwj specifically before!#and the solution isn't just oh well lwj is perfectly trustworthy #though that's obviously part of it #wwx has to like. decide for himself to do some things differently this time around in order to reap the rewards of being really in it with #someone. and lwj does too! it's a journey they're on together #i have simply rambled in all directions i'm sorry anon

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captainremmington-13 · 1 month

Text

A Lady Made of Snow

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova, her father, and Enolio. I also do not condone the beliefs or actions of Coriolanus or Bellova.

SUMMARY: Coriolanus spends the night at the Reginelle estate. While Bellova sleeps, he goes through her room and discovers many intriguing items, some of which he would have never expected to find.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: THIS IS A DARK CHAPTER. It contains manipulation, swearing, and mentions of death and weaponry.

A/n: This chapter was so hard to write tbh😭

Bellova awoke on Sunday, two days after she’d fallen unconscious. Coriolanus was at her bedside, reading a book. When he noticed she was awake, he immediately called for the nurse and brushed her hair out of her face gently.

After the nurse checked her vitals and confirmed that she was alright, he went to summon the doctor so she could be cleared to go home.

“I feel so guilty,” Bellova whispered, looking down at her lap sadly.

“Why is that?” Coriolanus asked, checking the time on his watch. It was already six o’clock in the evening, and he wanted to get home in time for dinner with Tigris and Grandma’am.

“My father has probably been worried sick about me,” she said dejectedly. “Do you know where he is right now? I would really like to see him.”

Coriolanus took a deep breath.

“Oh, sweet girl…I hate that I have to break this to you.”

“Huh?” Bellova tilted her head in confusion.

“Your father is dead.”

Coriolanus did not get home in time for dinner.

Instead, he had to escort a distraught Bellova to the car waiting in front of the hospital to take her back to her estate. Between sobs, she begged for Coriolanus to come home with her.

“Please don’t leave me alone,” she said tearfully, clutching his arm like it was a lifeline. “I don’t trust that I won’t hurt myself. I need you by my side, Coryo.”

And Coriolanus, being the loving boyfriend he was, agreed instantly.

He opened the door to the back seat for Bellova before her driver could, and slid in next to her immediately after. He buckled her seatbelt for her, as she was too distracted to do it herself.

The driver started the car without saying a word. Coriolanus could tell by his stiff posture that he was on edge, but was holding his tongue.

The ride was…tense, to say the least. Bellova was trembling, clearly trying not to cry her heart out. Tears streamed down her face, dripping down onto her blood-red dress, the same one that Bellova had worn to his office just two days ago.

‘So much has happened since then,’ Coriolanus thought.

When the car stopped in the Reginelle estate’s driveway, Bellova didn’t move to get out. She just sat there, as if she was paralyzed by grief, which she probably was.

Coriolanus had to say her name twice before she turned her head slightly to look at him. He unbuckled her seatbelt and took her hand, helping her out of the car.

They wordlessly made their way inside the estate. Two Avoxes came to take their coats. The same butler that showed Coriolanus to Mr. Reginelle’s office just days ago, approached them. His eyes widened slightly when he recognized him, but did not express his surprise out loud.

“Miss Reginelle,” the butler said, his voice cracking slightly. It was clear to Coriolanus that he had been immensely stressed. “I am glad to see you awake and well. I…” he paused, looking down at his shoes. “I am so sorry about your father.”

“Thank you, Enolio,” Bellova said quietly. “I know you were fond of him too.”

Coriolanus briefly wondered how much she accurately remembered about her father.

“He was a good man,” Enolio said. “Generous, fair, and passionate. And he loved you so much, more than anything else in this world.”

Bellova’s eyes filled with tears again, which she wiped away quickly. “I know,” she said, sniffling. “He was the best father I could ever ask for.”

Coriolanus, who was growing increasingly impatient and anxious at the discussion of a man he had killed, cleared his throat. “Show us to her quarters,” he told Enolio. “She requested that I stay the night with her.”

Enolio looked like he wanted to protest, but didn’t.

He turned on his heel and lead them up the grand staircase, which was made of black marble and shone in the light of the grandiose chandelier hanging above. Bellova was still shaking, and Coriolanus could tell she was struggling to walk in her heels.

He would have carried her the rest of the way if he’d actually given a damn about her.

Finally, Enolio pushed Bellova’s bedroom doors open. “If you need anything, Miss Reginelle, just yell for me. I’ll be close by.”

Bellova nodded, giving him a hug. “Thank you.”

The butler looked stunned at this sudden affectionate gesture, but embraced her anyway. “You’re most welcome, miss.” Giving her a small smile, he shut the door behind him, leaving her and Coriolanus alone in her incredibly spacious room.

Coriolanus looked around, taking in his surroundings. He had never been in this section of the estate before, let alone Bellova’s quarters.

The aesthetic of the decor fit her perfectly - or at least, the old her, perfectly. The canopy draped over her bed was made of a sheer black material, and matched the black silk covers on her mattress. One of the walls was transformed into a massive set of bookshelves, which was filled with books and other priceless trinkets. A mirror almost twice the height of the doors was placed on the wall opposite to that, the rim inlaid with silver. The floor was made of dark grey marble, and was polished to perfection.

Coriolanus’s gaze traveled back to Bellova when she said his name softly. She had begun to cry again, which annoyed him. He really hated watching people cry, it made him uncomfortable. He was tempted to ignore her, they were alone and there would be consequences for doing so. But he needed to be affectionate enough to gain her unwavering support and devotion.

So instead of leaving the room, Coriolanus stayed with Bellova while she prepared for bed. She stopped crying, to his relief, and instead went completely silent. She retrieved a white nightgown from her walk-in closet and disappeared into her bathroom.

When Bellova returned, her face had been scrubbed clean of makeup. Coriolanus hadn’t seen her without a full face of makeup in at least five years. Her complexion was paler than usual, her grey eyes were puffy and red from crying, and her hair was damp and devoid of its usual curl.

She looked ghostly, which made sense given that the old version of her was dead.

She walked over to her bed without saying a word, laying down on top of the sheets. She still seemed to be in a trance-like state.

Coriolanus reluctantly walked over to her and kneeled down next to the bed. “You should get under the covers, you’ll get cold if you don’t.”

No response.

He sighed. Standing up, he slowly coaxed Bellova off of the bed so he could pull back the covers. She layed down once more, facing away from him.

Coriolanus thought Bellova would fall asleep right away, but was proven wrong when she rolled over to look at him. “Can you hold me while I try to sleep, Coryo?”

He was beginning to regret brainwashing her instead of killing her.

Pushing aside his violent thoughts, he slid off his shoes and climbed into bed with her. She immediately wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. He hesitantly raised his hand to stroke her hair, and he felt her body relax slightly.

“Are you tired?” he asked.

“Mhm,” she murmured, her eyelids drooping slightly. “Thank you for staying with me, Coryo. I don’t know what I’d do without you, especially now that my father is gone…” She trailed off, her voice trembling pitifully. “All I really have is you.”

Coriolanus allowed himself to smile. If Bellova felt he was her only ally, he would never have to worry about her disobeying or abandoning him.

“I know,” he said quietly. “But I’m all you need. As long as you have me, you’ll be alright.”

She hummed in agreement, her eyes fluttering shut. And within minutes, she was asleep.

Carefully, Coriolanus lifted her sleeping form off of his chest, letting her body rest against the mattress. He climbed off of the bed, and ran a hand through his already messy hair. What was there to do now that Bellova was sleeping?

He looked around the room once more, his eventually eyes landing on her desk. It was the messiest thing in the room by far. It held miscellaneous books of all sizes, expensive-looking notebooks, various fountain pens, and loose papers in clumsily composed stacks.

Despite knowing her for more than a decade, she kept a solid wall between them that prevented him from seeing her true feelings. Perhaps looking through her personal items would reveal things that he could use to his advantage.

Taking a seat at her desk, he picked up the book at the top of the pile. It was called A Tale of Timeless Truth. It looked like a dark romance novel, judging by the cover that depicted two lovers standing in a cemetery. The one underneath read:

Coriolanus

by William Shakespeare

Coriolanus stifled a laugh, as not to wake the sleeping girl. Either it was a miraculous coincidence, or the old Bellova liked him more than she let on. He was tempted to look through the book, but was more interested in the several sheets of notes lying about.

After shuffling through them, he realized that Bellova had been quite passionate about the concept of the Hunger Games. She had written the outlines of concepts of rules, spanning from having a different arena each year to making the tribute interviews a bigger, more publicized event.

She also had rough sketches of strange animals, with hastily scribbled notes bellow them.

Mutations.

She was designing her own mutts.

Dr. Gaul had likely inspired her to do so. Judging by the lack of development and detail within the notes, she hadn’t presented the designs to the doctor yet.

They were solid ideas, ones that Dr. Gaul would be very impressed with. Coriolanus carefully folded the papers containing the rules and designs into small squares and tucked them into his pant pocket.

The other papers were filled with drawings, mostly of skulls and various flowers. The only one that stood out to him was a sketch of a rose. It was a beautiful picture, but quite macabre, as the petals appeared to be dropping in blood.

He decided he had to destroy that paper. He didn’t want Bellova to remember she had been fascinated by anything violent.

Coriolanus opened the drawers on the left of the desk, rifling through them as quietly as possible. There was nothing of interest in them, just a bunch of school supplies. When he opened the last drawer on the right, he spotted two black leather-bound books, decorated with elaborate patterns and inlaid with gold. One of them looked considerably older than the other.

He picked both of them up, setting them on the desk. He blew the thin layer of dust off of the older book, and opened it. In large but surprisingly neat handwriting, the words “Bellova’s journal” covered the first page. In the bottom right corner was the date she first wrote in it. Coriolanus quickly did the math. She was seven years old at that time.

He flipped the page, which revealed the first entry:

I’m not going to begin this with “dear diary”. That’s stupid. I’ll just write out my thoughts as they appear in my head.

Coriolanus bit back a smile. She had always been blunt, apparently.

I met a boy today. He tried to kick me off of my own tower at the playground. The audacity! He wasn’t willing even to share, so I pushed him. Daddy always says I shouldn’t be mean, but that it’s fine to put people in their place. And that’s what I did, so I don’t see it as a problem.

I think he is in my class at school. I recognize him by his blonde curls. I never payed attention to him before today, he never really caught my eye. But now I need to watch my back. I don’t want him getting in my way again.

Signed,

ℬℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ𝓋𝒶

Coriolanus’s throat went dry. He knew he was the little blonde boy who she’d pushed down the stairs those years ago.

He turned to a random page. This one was written two years after the first entry.

I really hate group projects. I had to work with Clemmie and Coryo. What a nightmare.

Clemmie is alright. We get along for the most part, and sometimes we do each other’s hair. She can be bossy sometimes, which really gets on my nerves. I want to slap her sometimes, but Miss Inola would get really mad at me if I did.

Coryo is the one who gives me trouble. He thinks he’s so special because his last name is Snow.

But he has such pretty blue eyes. They sparkle like the finest diamonds in the light. His smile looks like sunshine itself, and his laugh is so cute.

It’s really a shame that he’s so annoying.

Signed,

ℬℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ𝓋𝒶 ℛ.

At that point, Coriolanus was beyond intrigued. He had no idea Bellova found him attractive when they were children. She hurled insults at him constantly, and was hell-bent on one-upping him in class. Clearly, she was good at hiding her emotions.

At least, she used to be.

Quickly flipping through the pages, he stopped when an entry written in red ink caught his eye. This was written when Bellova was fourteen.

Today was an absolute mess, but it was fun to see the chaos unfold.

Arachne really thought she’d win the Dean’s Award for her perfect score on her algebra test. As fun as she is to gossip with, she can be quite an entitled bitch. She threw a tantrum in front of the entire student body. I just pretended not to know her.

Then Sejanus, the soft-hearted fool he is, stormed out of History. I think it was prompted by Demigloss calling district children “rats”. He’s such a sensitive boy, so I can understand why it got under his skin. But really, he should try to blend in more with the Capitol citizens if he wants to rid himself of the stigma surrounding his family’s past.

And lastly, Coriolanus won the Dean’s Award for academic achievement. The look on High-As-A-Kite Bottom’s face when he had off his name was priceless. I was sure I would win the award, but if anyone else truly deserves it, it’s Coryo. I hate to admit it, but his intellect far surpasses anyone else’s in the our grade. Except for mine, of course.

Coryo changed over the summer. In personality, he’s the same. He’s still competitive, smug, and somewhat reserved. But he looks different. He’s gotten taller, his voice is more mature, and he looks less…boyish. Dad says that he looks more like his father, General Snow. I’m unsure if that’s good or bad.

I really do hate that he’s taller than me now. I suppose I’ll have to get used to wearing heels every day. When he pointed out how he can look right over my head now, giving me that signature smug grin, I wanted to throw up.

It’s almost sickening how much I want to kiss him.

ℬ. ℛ.

Coriolanus was unable to stop himself from grinning.

Bellova really had been a lovesick schoolgirl all this time.

He closed the old journal and opened the new one. Bellova had recorded the date she received it: her sixteenth birthday.

He shuddered. He really didn’t want to remember her sixteenth birthday party.

Skimming through the book quickly, he realized she’d only written in it a handful of times. She probably got busy with the advanced classes she was taking at the Academy. He inferred this because he had been taking all of the same classes, and knew how heavy the workload could be.

The very last entry in the book was a short one.

I want nothing more than to slit Coriolanus Snow’s neck, and watch the blood paint his pretty porcelain skin red.

The fucking audacity of him to insult me in front of our entire class! I would’ve stabbed him with my pen if Sejanus hadn’t intervened. He’s just envious that I got a higher grade than him on our last rhetoric project. He’s fucking pathetic.

I don’t care for him anymore. His has his arrogant ass to blame for that. It’s his loss.

No matter how gorgeous or alluring he is, I will never allow myself to feel anything for him ever again.

I deserve better.

Signed,

𝓑𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓪 𝓥𝓸𝓵𝓾𝓶𝓷𝓲𝓪 𝓡𝓮𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓮

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Coriolanus spent hours ripping pages out of both journals. He removed anything that depicted her old personality, but left the entries that didn’t contradict Bellova’s new reality alone.

If anyone who didn’t know her read through the journals, they’d assume she was an average Capitol heiress.

He also went through her room and removed anything that could be used as a weapon, just in case Bellova returned to her former state.

He had no idea that Bellova owned so many knives. By the time he had thoroughly searched every crevice of the bedroom, his coat pockets were stuffed full of various small weapons.

He left her bookshelves alone for the most part. The only books he decided to take home with him were ones that included graphic content. He wanted Bellova to think she’d been innocent and pure.

He found a singular photo book hidden amongst lengthy tragedy novels. Inside was many photos of Bellova and her loved ones. Some were of her as an infant, others as a toddler. There were only a few of her around the age where she had formally met Coriolanus. This was unsurprising, given that the war was at its fiercest around that time.

Later on in the book were many pictures of her and Persephone, Lysistrata, and Diana Ring, taken during their fourth-to-last year of the academy. Bellova looked much older than fourteen in them. Perhaps it was the makeup, or the cunning gleam in her eyes.

The last two pages were filled with more recent pictures. One of them was a group photo of the senior class, taken at their very last Academy orientation. Coriolanus spotted himself and Sejanus standing next to each other, grinning ear to ear.

Quickly suppressing his guilt, he searched for Bellova in the picture, who he found quickly. Nobody else in the senior class had jet black hair and a piercingly sharp smile.

The photo that really grabbed his attention was the very last one, because he was in it.

Bellova wore a stunning silver dress, her makeup was more elaborate than usual, and her eyes were half-closed. Five empty glasses of posca sat on the table before her. To her left, Coriolanus had rested his head on her shoulder, and appeared to be asleep.

A vague memory flashed across his mind. A night full of laughter, posca, and luxurious outfits. Bellova giving him a captivating smile. Feeling the alcohol bring down his barriers, momentarily forgetting all of his worries…

Coriolanus shook his head, as if doing so would push the thoughts out of his mind. He removed the photo from the album and placed it so it leaned against the books on the shelf. He hoped that Bellova would see it and assume it was a snapshot of their “loving” relationship before she had “hit her head”.

He scanned the room once more, to ensure nothing incriminating was left. The aura of the old Bellova still remained, due to the gothic decor, but anything that suggested she was a violent person had been taken by him.

Satisfied, Coriolanus walked back towards Bellova’s bed. But he stopped in his tracks when he spotted a small table near one of her windows.

On it sat a framed, pressed black rose.

The very same blossom he had gifted her after the arena bombing.

He would have been stunned that she preserved it if not for what he’d just read in her journals.

Coriolanus picked up the frame. The flower was a perfect representation of the old Bellova: mysterious, macabre, and beautiful.

Opening the back of the frame, Coriolanus retrieved the dried flower. Silently apologizing to Grandma’am, he crushed it in his palm, practically reducing it to dust.

Discarding the remains in a trash bin, Coriolanus walked towards the bedroom door. He needed to go back to his penthouse, Tigris and Grandma’am were probably quite worried about him. Besides, he needed to dispose of the knives and find a place to hide Bellova’s other items.

He also had some work to do concerning the frame that had housed the black rose.

When he returned in the early hours of the following morning, it would contain a freshly-pressed white blossom.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊

TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy, @effectwalker, @vxnilla-hxrddrugs, @mystargirl-interlude

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments! Things will get pretty intense in the next few chapters, because Bellova isn’t one to go down without fighting first…..

Also, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x oc #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games #original character #thg prequel #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the capitol #tbosas

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growup-thatbeautiful · 11 months

Text

timezone

Summary: Tangerine comes home. Post-Bullet proof.

A/n: i’d love to know if anyone would be interested in a prequel series about this pairing? lmk!

Word count: 2.6k

Bullet Proof Masterlist

~*~

The low hum of music playing through the small record player in the corner of the living room fills the air while you wash up the takeout containers from your dinner tonight. Jovie is fast asleep in her bedroom down the hall, curled tightly underneath her sheets.

Bedtime lasted longer tonight than usual because Tan has been on a job for the past few days. Ever since you moved back in with him, you’ve gotten used to living with him, and so has Jovie, which makes it harder when he isn’t here. You have a routine now to put Jovie to bed, an elaborate and complicated thing with many steps including kids' books and Tangerine’s own story times. So, without him, it’s been hard to convince Jovie to fall asleep these past few nights.

It took you four Dr. Seuss books and one game of hide and seek to get her into bed, which took more energy out of you than you care to admit.

Billy Joel’s crooning voice is interrupted by the ringing of your phone. Carefully, after you dry your hands, you swipe up on the screen of the photo of Tangerine and Jovie that fills it.

On the speaker, his voice fills the empty space between the two of you. You don’t know where he is at this point or if he’s finished what he needs to do- it’s too risky to discuss over the phone- but based on the sounds you think he’s driving somewhere. You can picture the way his ringed fingers grip the steering wheel, his eyes focusing on the road in front of him as neon lights pass by, reflected against the shine of the pendant around his neck.

“Hey, love,” he says, his voice sounding tired but nevertheless affectionate. “How are my girls doing?”

Your heart fills with warmth at his word choice, and you jump up on the counter to sit and talk for a while. “We’re good. I finally got Jovie to bed, though it took more convincing than usual.” Your head hits the wooden cabinet as you lean back and your eyes slide shut.

He hums in response and adds, “I swear to God, she gets her fucking energy from you. You used to be just like her “

“Because I couldn’t fucking trust you then,” you blame. “Had to sleep with my back to the door.”

“I have you no reason not to fucking trust me.” Tangerine’s voice is light, fond remembrance laced through his tone. “Even gave you the bed because I’m a gentleman.”

“You’re no such thing,” you laugh. “And I remember a conversation like this years ago where we couldn’t agree.”

Tangerine fully laughs this time, a low, happy-sounding laugh that you’ve been missing. You learned what it was like without Tan for all those years, so now every time he’s gone you feel it deeper, like something lodged inside your heart. Tan’s laughter dies down and he says. “Yeah, but we’ve fucking changed since then. You’ve come to see how much of a right pleasure I am.”

It’s your turn to hum in agreement. Silence falls between the two of you, but it’s not uncomfortable. You don’t know someone as well as Tan and have uncomfortable silences. You’ve been through so much- making it through silence isn’t the worst thing you’ve faced.

You break the silence, though, because you have to tell him how hard it’s been without him here. Even washing dishes had felt lonely without him bothering you, his front plastered against your back as he places kisses along your neck. “I’ve missed you.”

“The only thing between us is distance,” Tangerine says automatically. “And that’s fucking nothing at all, love.”

“I know.” You hate how weak your voice sounds. How emotion creeps through the cracks and seeps through the phone speaker. “It doesn’t feel like that, though.”

“That bad?” he asks. The concern in his voice carries through despite the bad quality. You don’t know if he’s alone or where he is, but it makes you feel safe somehow, knowing that he’s worried about you. As if he doesn’t already have enough to worry about.

“Not great,” you admit. “Jovie misses you too. She keeps asking me when you’ll be home, but she’s been busy with school.”

“I’m sorry, love.” It fills you with ache, how tired he sounds. You know that he trusts you- you’re not going to leave again- but that doesn’t make things like this any easier.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, or, at least, try to. “You’ll be back soon. How’s everything looking there?”

Tangerine sighs fully and tells through veiled metaphors how it’s been harder than he and Lemon thought to track down the mark they’re looking for, but he thinks that they’ve got a good lead. He tells you how the mark is usually unguarded and without weapons, so it will be easy once they actually find him. You can only hope for his safety.

But safety, in your lives, is a laughable commodity that you haven’t known for years. It’s your choice and you’ve had to live with it, through thick and thin.

“Do you need any help?” you ask when he’s done talking, praying that there’s something you can do. “I can see what I can find.”

“Love,” he says, and you can see the smile on his face from miles apart, a fond, exasperated smile that you know too well. “Enjoy your time off, I’ll be home soon.”

“You will?” You know it’s selfish, wanting him to yourself all the time. He has a job to do, and you’re distracting him, making it harder for him to get the job done. But it’s so hard when he’s so gentle like this.

“I don’t fucking care what else happens, I’m seeing you tonight, love,” Tangerine promises, his voice grainy from whatever low-quality service he’s on.

“Yeah?” you ask, smiling. It doesn’t have to be true to make you feel protected. Safe. It could be an empty promise, but you’d still have the same reaction.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s time I stop fucking about here and come to see my girls.”

You feel like a schoolgirl from the way you’re grinning into the phone and thinking about him. “I’ll be waiting, then.”

“Try to get some sleep.” You don’t know how he’s the one taking care of you right now, but it’s nice to have someone tell you what to do.

“I will. Goodnight, Tan.” As hard as you try to hide it, your voice sounds hopeful and lighter than you intend it to. The last thing you want to do is guilt him to coming home. God knows you’re already responsible for enough of his guilt.

“Night, love.”

You move through the apartment, missing him less and more at the same time. You don’t want to think about it anymore, but all you can seem to see in your mind is him- the ink tracing patterns on his skin, the cold metal of his rings, and the tidy curl of his hair. With him on the back of your eyelids, you fall asleep curled up on the couch like Jovie is in her own bed.

~*~

Tangerine’s footsteps are light on the pavement outside of his house from years of practice. There’s blood on his hands, there usually is, but he can’t care to wash it off when you’re right beyond the front door.

The key to the door slips in after a few tries and shoulders open the door, wincing as a cut along his ribs is pulled tight. He’ll have to ask you to help him with that later. For now, though, all he wants to do is see his daughter and you safely asleep. It hadn’t been a hard job, just tiring, and he's exhausted down to his bones that ache and scream for him to lie down.

He can’t do that, though, until he sees you- your face lighting up in surprise that he made it home so fast. He promised you he would, and he’d rather not show up at all than break that promise. The two of you stopped breaking promises to each other recently. Carefully, so he doesn’t wake anyone up, he steps out of his shoes and his suit jacket, putting them in their place in the hallway next to Jovie’s green raincoat and your heavy black overcoat. The very picture of a normal family, those coats. It brings a weary smile to his face.

He’s expecting you to be in bed, but you aren’t. When he finds you, you’re dead asleep on the couch, a threadbare blanket covering you as the tv plays dimly, some movie he hasn’t seen before. It looks romantic enough to be something you would pick, though.

For a moment, before he’ll carry you to your shared bed, he watches you. He’s known for years that you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, but when you’re sleeping there’s something so fragile about you. The usual strength that you carry in your frame is hidden by one of his old sweatshirts and a pile of pillows, and the creases that he usually finds in between your eyebrows aren’t there. No, like this you look like a gentler version of yourself. Someone who, maybe, hasn’t had to make so many hard choices or do so many shitty things.

But that’s not who you are, and it’s definitely not the person he fell in love with. It sounds horrible, to think that the unforgiving circumstances of your youth are what led you to him, but it’s the truth more than anything else. He can’t count the number of times you’ve bonded over your shared traumatic experiences or cried into his arms about things only he can understand.

When he tucks you into his chest and lifts you with an arm underneath your knees, you start to stir. He’s proud to see, however, that you don’t panic like he’s sure you would with anyone else. You just settle deeper into his chest and go back to sleep.

As much as he would love to immediately lay down beside you, he has to check on Jovie first. It’s irrational, his fear, but given everything that’s happened, he has to do it.

She’s fast asleep just like you are, stuffed bear held close to her chest. The nightlight plugged into her wall casts a blue light around the room, lighting her curly hair with a neon glow. You always say that Jovie looks just like him, she got his curls, but he thinks she looks like you. She has your eyes, smart and bright, and she has your strength.

Gently, he steps over to where her bed is and kisses her on her forehead. “Hey, Jovie-love. I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?” Once he’s satisfied that she’s okay, he brushes the hair out of her face and kisses her once before padding out and shutting the door without a sound.

You’re sitting up in bed when he makes it back to your room, the sleeves of his hoodie falling over your hands as you shuffle to the edge of the bed. “You’re here,” you state dumbly, a grin spreading across your face. “I thought you were being hopeful.” You rub some sleep out of your eyes and reach for him, and his heart fucking melts. He lets you draw him in closer to you and his hands find their way to cup your face. Like this with him standing, he’s much taller than you, and he’s able to really, truly see you. The relief plastered on your face and the beaming, not-quite-awake smile make everything that he had to go through to get here worth it.

“Since when have I been fucking hopeful?” Tangerine grins. “I made you a promise, didn’t I? Had to stick to it.” There’s so much truth behind his words that he’s too tired to unpack right now, but you don’t seem to mind. You especially don’t mind when he leans down and kisses you gently, at first, but with more passion when he remembers that you’re real, and you’re here, and you’re all his. Slowly, careful of his various minor injuries, he leans forward until you’re laying flat on the bed with him in between your legs. He thinks he hides the grimace of pain he makes when you skim your hands down his torso, just enough pressure to make pain bloom beneath his eyes, but you know him too well to let something like that slip his eyes.

You also know that he’s never going to ask you for help when he’s hurt. So, you stop him with a hand pushed against his chest and ask, a little breathlessly, but with narrowed eyes, “Are you hurt?”

He lets out a long, low groan and buries his head in your shoulder. He mutters under his breath, but clear enough for you to hear, “Can’t get fucking nothing by you, love.”

It’s not the right thing to say, because panic spreads across your face as you try and get him off of you, looking for any sign of pain. There are the normal bloodstains on his clothes, but you assumed those weren’t his- they usually aren’t. “Where are you hurt?” you ask, your voice an octave higher than natural and your hands not as steady as he knows they should be. “Are you okay? I swear, Tan, if you’re bleeding out and you wasted all this time-”

“-Love, does it look like I’m bleeding out?” he asks, tilting your chin up with his finger to get you to look him in the eyes. There’s still panic in your eyes, but it takes on a sharper edge when you start to focus like he knows you can. You take in his clothes, the flush on his cheeks, the strength of his arms, and the smile on his face. He doesn’t look any worse than all the other times he’s come home with scrapes and bruises.

“No,” you answer unsurely. “But you’re good at hiding things.”

Tangerine can’t help the grin that slips onto his face at your stubbornness. “It’s nothing big, yeah? Just a scrape on my ribs. Fucking prick used a knife on me.” You don’t look completely convinced, but he sees the fight drain from your posture. Whether or not you realize it, you lean into his touch and close your eyes, taking deep breaths in and out.

“I’m okay, love, I promise. Everything’s going to be alright” There he goes again, making promises that he has no right to make. But with you looking at him like moments ago, like the world was ending if he was, he can’t do anything except promise you everything. He may be a fighter, but, against you and Jovie, he’s a weak man.

In the end, you take him to the bathroom anyway and fix him up, complaining the whole time that his wound could have gotten infected if he didn’t clean it tonight. He argues back that you would have found out one way or another, so he didn’t need to tell you. Really, though, he doesn’t mind your hands smoothing over his skin, gently applying antiseptic and bandaging it up.

History has proven that he’ll let you get away with almost anything, not that you try much anymore. All you ask for is that he comes home at the end of a job, and he asks the same in return. It’s what you should have done since the beginning, but he knows it wasn’t always as clear as it is now.

It doesn’t matter anymore. You’re both here now, his arm thrown around your waist underneath the sheets, your soft breathing lulling him to a state of almost-sleep. He’ll fall asleep eventually, he’s still exhausted, but right now he’s taking the moment to enjoy being home.

With Jovie. With you.

His family.

Taglist loves: @venusthepirate @shadows-of-nyx @syd-vixious @thefloatingpickle @sallyp-53 @fictionalcomforts @s-haa @the-bisaster @phoenixhits @wee-little-mouse @cupofstarss @eefos @slut-f0r-u @lotustv @kpopgirlbtssvt @amyg1509 @tangerinesgf @earth-elemental18 @theredvelvetbitch

#tangerine #bullet proof #bullet train #tangerine x you #tangerine x reader #bullet train tangerine #tangerine bullet train #bullet proof universe #nova writes #atj #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson x you #tangerine fic #tangerine fanfic #tangerine fanfiction

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sapphire-writes · 1 year

Note

•Hey Saf! first of all thanks for your beautiful work. i had this idea in mind of reader being a Martell so she goes to kings landing to visit, she falls for aemond but Otto doesn’t trust her bc he believes she can poison him or something , so things go down

thank you if you take it! again thank you for your work it helps a lot

Snake in the Garden ~ Aemond x Martell!reader

word count: 1.4k warnings: none, little angsty note: loved writing this! thanks for sending and thank you so much for your kind words I'm glad you're enjoying my work 💚 masterlist HOTD taglist

“Be careful,” Otto warns his grandson, as the wheelhouse pulls into the front courtyard.

Qoren Martell’s firstborn was arriving from Dorne, on a visit to the capital. Aemond nods, slightly bouncing on his heels as though preparing for battle, not the arrival of a lady.

“They are slippery snakes, Dornish women,” Otto murmurs, lowering his voice as the door to the wheelhouse opens.

You appear, a cloud of red and purple silks, dark hair pulled away from your face. Eyes wide you look up at the towers of the Red Keep, before suppressing a shiver.

“Cold here,” you say, more to yourself than anyone else.

Aemond watches you carefully as you step down, your delicate hand draped on a knight’s arm. Aemond’s eye follows you as she moves towards the royal family, as though she is a pit viper about to strike.

“We welcome you, Princess,” Alicent says, greeting you, “you must forgive the King’s absence, he is not faring well.”

“Of course, your grace,” you answer, “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Your dark eyes move across the members of the royal family, and Aemond can feel his grandfather stiffen beside him as your eyes glance over at him. Then your eyes rest on Aemond.

You move to stand in front of him, staring up at his face. Aemond blinks in surprise, looking down at you. You are so close he can count the individual eyelashes that frame your sparkling eyes.

“Why do you cover it?” you ask, causing Aemond’s brow to furrow.

Bold.

“To spare the women of the court, princess,” Aemond answers.

You narrow your eyes.

“You have soft women in the north.”

“This is not the north.”

You laugh, the sound much like the peel of bells. Aemond’s mouth twitches into a smile, before his grandfather glares at him, causing him to retreat to his usual stoic expression.

“Everywhere is north of Dorne,” you answer, swishing past Aemond, skirts brushing his hand.

Aemond moves to follow you inside, set on not letting you leave his sights. Otto reaches out, clasping a hand on his arm.

“What did I say?” he asks, voice low.

“I only mean to keep an eye on the serpent,” Aemond tells him, pulling free from his grandfather’s grasp.

Aemond follows the Dornish beauty, not allowing you to leave his sight. Especially during the feast that night as you converse with Aegon, who has draped himself across your lap, cup in hand.

Aemond, though not overly fond of his brother, is his protector nonetheless.

He watches as Aegon says something to you, earning more musical laughter that floods through the halls. Aemond feels something inside him curl up with rage at the sight of how at ease Aegon is around you.

It should be him.

Aemond wishes to shake the thought away but he cannot. It remains like the pain that sometimes lodges itself behind the empty socket of his eye, as though his body has suddenly remembered a part of him is missing.

Aegon is the heir. It is he who should be fearful of you. Dornish enchantress.

Aemond should be enjoying himself in your company, have your hands stroking his hair as you do to Aegon now. It is too much to watch.

Aemond turns and leaves the hall, taking some air on a nearby veranda. The sky is black as death, lit up with thousands of diamond-like stars.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice says behind him.

He knows it is you before you step beside him.

“You must have stars in Dorne.”

“Indeed,” you answer, chuckling, “but the northern air gives them such a glow.”

Aemond hums in response, feeling his heart beating hard in his chest, like a hammer against the cloth.

“Drink?” you ask, holding the second goblet you hold.

Aemond looks at it a moment too long. You smile wolfishly, teeth glowing in the moonlight. You look the part of an enchantress. Temptress. Beckoning him towards an early grave.

“Scared?” you tease.

“Should I be?”

“If you are wise.”

An honest answer, you give him.

Aemond does not move. You bring the cup you offer to your lips taking a long sip, before holding it out to him once more. Your lips shimmer with the remnants of the Dornish red.

“How do I know you haven’t been preparing for weeks, taking small amounts of poison to train yourself to withstand its effects?” Aemond asks, still not reaching for the cup.

You twist your mouth, as though deep in thought.

“True,” you murmur, “but that seems like an awful lot of work, just to murder a second son.”

Aemond feels a rush of anger, it burns through his body. He meets your eye and watches the smirk that forms.

“You jest,” he says, earning a nod.

“I do,” you admit, “though, if I meant to kill you tonight, you would already be dead.”

Aemond is not easily frightened. Fear has not been an emotion he was familiar with, not since the taking of his eye. But something about the way you say that hangs in the air; it wraps around his throat like a tightening noose.

He takes the cup from your hand, fingers brushing against yours.

He lets a sip of the Dornish red slip past his lips, down his throat. You grin watching him swallow.

“Still alive?” you tease, earning a hum.

“You cannot fault me for valuing my life.”

“I suppose.”

You both stand in silence, staring up at the stars and taking sips from your cups. Your skin is warm from the wine, the taste reminding you of home, causing your chest to tighten. How you hate being so far from home.

“Shall it take effect soon?” Aemond asks, draining his cup.

You laugh again, and Aemond allows himself to smile.

“You surprise me, my prince,” you tell him, “I did not expect you to be a man of humor.”

“What did you expect?” Aemond asks, curious about your answer.

You turn to face him, becoming suddenly very serious.

“A haunted man,” you tell him, “the ghost of a boy stretched tall.”

Aemond finds it hard to look away from you, instead settling his gaze on your mouth, still dewed with wine as though it is venom. No, the wine is not venom, but the words you speak are. They are clearly meant to incapacitate him.

“A princess, and a poet?” Aemond murmurs.

“I do not wish to offend you,” you continue, as he turns from you.

“You do not,” Aemond assures, looking down at his cup, “I am not used to the directness, that's all. Most people avoid the topic.”

You wait to speak, sensing he is not finished.

“Most people avoid me in general, I suppose.”

You bring a hand to his arm, and his chest warms at your touch.

“Tis their loss then,” you tell him.

Aemond purses his lips, unsure of what has made him confide in you.

“I understand what it is like, to be assumed to be something you are not,” you tell him.

Aemond feels shame run through him. He assumed you were dangerous, all because of his grandfather. He looks at you once more, your face glowing in the moonlight.

“You must forgive me, my lady,” Aemond tells you, “we are overly cautious in the capital these days.”

You smile gently at him.

“There is no need for apologies,” you assure him.

“Still, you shall have mine,” Aemond says, taking your hand in his and placing a kiss atop your knuckles causing your breath to hitch in your throat.

“Shall I escort you back into the great hall?” Aemond asks.

“I shall be just a moment,” you tell him.

Aemond eyes you curiously.

“You’re certain?” he questions and you nod.

“I shall meet you there.”

Aemond gives you a slight nod, before taking his leave. You stand on the veranda, leaning over the edge and peering down. You glance behind you, before pulling a small vial from between your breasts. Undetectable, small, and full of a ruby-red liquid.

It would have been quick.

You run your fingers over it before breaking the wax seal. You turn the vial, letting the contents of the glass run down the stones over the edge like blood before smashing the vial underneath your foot. You brush the pieces away and straighten your skirts, before heading back to find Aemond.

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