#i swear i love cold war history it's just that i didn't know those were WORDS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

phoward89 · 12 days

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Based on this ask

Written special for my amazing moot @swiftieblyth

Everything seemed to be looking up for you. The last couple of months have been great. Your old friends, the ones that had backstabbed you, were no longer in your vicinity and you made new friends out of Clemensia Dovecote and Persephone Price, the girlfriend of Festus Creed. Coryo was leery of Persephone tho; even called her a cannibal because her father, Nero, had cut a dead maid's leg off to feed his family during the war.

Yea, that disturbed you a bit, but you didn't hold it against Persephone. She was a kid; most likely didn't know what she was eating. You always swatted your boyfriend's chest when he started his cannibal talk.

And talk about Coryo, oh he was just the best boyfriend to you. Truly, he was amazing. Despite his cold, stoic, callous nature he was very loving, genuine, and thoughtful with you.

Everything was going great, until it wasn't…

It was mid-June, University’s spring semester was over, Coryo graduated with a double major degree in Political Science and Military Strategy, and he was now deep in his work as the youngest assistant gamemaker in the history of Panem. And that happens to be whenever the bullshit drama with your ‘friends’ started up again. It started with little things, really.

Like they'd walk past you when you're at the mall with Clemmie and Persephone- making snide remarks under their breath. Remarks that'd have Clemmie serving them cunt with loud clap backs that made your ‘friends’ recoil with embarrassment. Clemmie and Persephone wanted you to tell Coryo about your old friends stalking you on shopping trips; saying nasty things about you under their breath while passing by, but you told them that it wasn't bad enough for Coryo to know. That they're blowing it up into something bigger then it is. You even made Persephone promise not to tell Festus, for fear that he'd tell Coryo since they're like best friends.

Of course your girls agreed to keep the low key mall drama about your ‘friends’ to themselves. But they did make you promise to tell Coryo about it if it got too bad.

And you didn't intend to keep that promise, until one day you had to.

Things were escalating with your old friends to the point where they were trash talking you on social media- again. This time tho, well, they're dragging your boyfriend into it. Saying that he has to fight your battles, that he fights dirty by fucking up people's lives just cause you can't deal with being called out with shit, that he has to ruin everyone that looks at you the wrong way, etc, etc, etc. You knew that Coryo wasn't big on social media (he had a Pangram account, but he rarely posts or goes on it) and hoped that he wouldn't find out about the ‘friends’ drama 2.0, but unfortunately for you his other friends did have social media.

And of fucking course Festus Creed had told Coryo all about the drama. Even showed him the slew of nasty posts that the salty bitches were posting about you and him. And to say those posts pissed your boyfriend off was an understatement. He was absolutely livid.

So livid that he wants to kill all of these ‘friends’ of yours that’re talking shit. Between trash talking you and dragging the Snow name thru the mud, well, those girls better run far far away from the Capitol and fast.

But now that Coriolanus knows what's wrong he understands why you've been sulking lately. It's been frustrating for him seeing you stay in bed, buried underneath the blankets all day for days on end; not wanting to do anything. But now he understands why.

And he's determined to make you feel better.

“I bought you a new book from that author you like.” Coryo told you, walking into the bedroom you share only to see you in bed, reading a book that he swears you reread about 5-or-6 times already.

“Thank you, Coryo.” You weakly smile, feeling blah even tho you're reading one of your emotional support books.

“Festus showed me the posts that those girls are posting about us, my darling.” Your blonde boyfriend confronted you while walking over to the bed and sitting next to you. Placing a supportive hand on your knee, he asks, “Why didn't you tell me they started their bullshit again?”

Closing your book, you looked down in embarrassment and sighed, “I don't want you thinking that you have to come to my rescue over this. It's my problem with these girls, not yours.”

Placing the new book he got you on the bedside table, he gently cupped your cheeks in his large, calloused hands and tilted your head back slightly so your eyes met his baby blues. “Y/N, baby, it's my job to take care of you and protect you because I'm your boyfriend; I love you.”

Your eyes began to well up with tears. “I don't know why, I'm such a loser. You could do better, find somebody that doesn't need you to defend them all the time.” You sniffled.

Hearing you talk like that because of those ‘friends’ of yours broke his heart. Coriolanus thinks that you're amazing. You're a beautiful person with a beautiful soul who made his dark withered up heart bloom and beat with love again. How could you think he deserves better when all he wants, needs, and loves is you?

Rationally, Coryo knows that it's depression and anxiety due to the situation talking and not really you, but that doesn't mean he truly understands your words. They hurt him because he just wants you to be happy; to be happy with him.

Your platinum blonde boyfriend pressed a soft feather light kiss to your forehead only to wrap his arms around you and pull you down onto the bed to cuddle with him. “You're not a loser, darling. You're perfect for me.” He assures you, kissing the tip of your cute nose. “You know that I'm here for you, baby. You can talk to me or not, but I'm here.”

And Coryo was there for you. He did everything in his power to pull you out of your depression and to help you settle down your anxiety. He ordered your favorite pastries, coffee, and refreshers from the high end coffee shop down the street from your penthouse, only to surprise you with brunch in Grandma’am's rooftop rose garden. It was a very romantic and thoughtful gesture. One that brought a smile to your face.

Coryo also played all of your favorite board games with you in another attempt to cheer you up. The two of you sat on the bedroom floor, rolling dice, dealing fake paper money, and trying to line up little letter blocks to make words while playing game after game over glasses of wine.

Coriolanus never played board games before he got with you because, honestly, his family was too poor to afford them. But when you moved in with him and brought your game collection, well, he'd play them with you once in a while. But now that you're in a funk, well, he's busting out the games more often than not to put a smile on your face.

Even when he comes home dead tired from preparations for the upcoming 14th Hunger Games, he's still finding the time to cheer you up. To support you.

And then when he's too tired to do anything and sees that you're having a hard time with your depression; that you haven't left the bed since he left in the morning, he orders pizza for the two of you and binge watches your favorite movie series with you. He cuddles you in bed, letting you curl up in his side, while watching TV in bed and reminding you how much you mean to him.

Coryo's also devising some plans to permanently get rid of the girls that are so mean to you, but you didn't need to know that. All you needed to know was that he's your loving and devoted boyfriend who will always be by your side no matter what.

And one day when he's President Coriolanus Snow and you're his First Lady Y/N Snow everyone will be too scared to say anything mean and hateful about either one of you. And if they do, well…they won't be breathing too long afterwards once he has a special afternoon tea with them.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons

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only-angel-28 · 8 months

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1999, part four - final part!

oh my gosh. final part and what a surprise, she's a long one again💀💀ive loved writing this silly little series so so much and i love all of you very very much🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽please give me requests on what to write next bc my mind is completely blank rn, all i can think of is the cold war and bolsheviks from my history revison and i dont think they would make v good fics🤡🤡

lmk what you think of this part and your fav moments, enjoy!!

warnings: tiny angst, mostly fluff, swearing

1999, part one

1999, part two

1999, part three

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conrad’s pov

Since Y/n is unable to hold a phone herself, I'm tasked with a lot, but I didn't fully realize the worry of her family until she had me working through each task with her.

No wonder she’s overwhelmed. The number of texts from Laurel, Mom, Belly, Jere and Steven she has to sift through in a given hour would drive anyone insane.

Or maybe I'm just going crazy by sitting this close to her. The smell of her coconut soap is permanently ingrained into my memory as she sits flush against me, pointing at different texts with her uninjured hand.

I can tell her nerves grow stronger as the Uber near the hospital.

Her knees bounce up and down as she dictates message after message I need to send, confusing me more and more with every word.

The work doesn't stop there. After we check in, a nurse hands us a clipboard filled with pages of information that need to be filled out. Y/n stares at it like it might catch on fire at any moment.

"Here." I pass it to her.

Her eyes shift toward the exit. "Will you help me please? I can't write like this." Her voice drops to a barely audible whisper.

"Okay. Tell me your answers and I'll write them down."

Her throat bobs as she scans the first line. It takes her far longer than necessary to read the first question.

"Do you mind reading the questions aloud for me? I'm too stressed to concentrate right now." Her overcompensating smile irritates me.

"Are you sure? Some of the questions are probably personal."

Don't be a dick. Just do what she says.

"I don't care.”

The rigid way she sits in her chair says the complete opposite.

She seems to be one minute away from breaking down, so I concede. I sigh as I grab the pen and get started on the first question. The paperwork doesn't take us as long as I anticipated, so Y/n and I sit together in silence. She stares at the exit longingly.

The way her eyes dart around the room as she gnaws on her bottom lip makes me feel merciful enough to save her from the anxiety eating her up inside.

“If it's any consolation, I hate hospitals too."

Her head swings toward the direction of my voice.

"Yeah?"

I nod. "Haven't been to one since…"

"I know." she says as she sees my chest heaves as I remember the millions of times we’ve been here before.

I keep my eyes focused on the soundless television playing in one corner.

Her good hand clasps onto mine and gives it a squeeze. I'm grateful she understands me enough not to ask any other questions. The idea of offering another raw part of myself feels like a betrayal of the years I've spent carefully developing a certain kind of persona.

"I hate them too." Her voice cracks.

"Why?"

She stares down at her swollen hand. “My dad…” She pauses, and I give her hand a reassuring squeeze like she gave me. "Let's just say mom ended up in the ER a couple of times for being clumsy."

I take a deep breath to stave off the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "And did you have issues with being clumsy?" If she says yes, I swear to God two men will end up floating in the Chicago River tonight.

She shakes her head rather aggressively. "No. No." My rapid heart rate can be heard through my ears. "If you were, you can tell me." While I can't promise I won't do anything about it, I can promise to make him hurt. A lot. With sulfuric acid or something, those pre-med studies are starting to come in handy now.

The overwhelming sense of protectiveness hits me hard, and I don't shy away from it. There is nothing I hate more than men who use their fists against innocent women and children.

"It never got to that point. Suze made sure of it." she says with a small smile.

"How?"

"She caught onto the signs and interfered before things got bad. Used her savings from my grandpa's life insurance policy to help Mom get a divorce and start a new life." A tear slips down her face, and I can't stand the sight of it.

I brush it away with the pad of my thumb, but the damp trail still lingers. A driving force inside of me wants to erase the sad look on her face. "Did her plan also happen to include a jug of sulfuric acid?"

She forces out a laugh. "I think concrete shoes were more in style back then."

I fake shudder. "Remind me to never make mom angry again."

"Forget her, you'd have to deal with me." She holds up her injured hand like a war trophy.

"I'm absolutely terrified."

"Miss Y/n?" a nurse calls out.

Y/n doesn't move at the sound of her name.

"That's you." I place my hand on her thigh and give it a squeeze.

She sucks in a deep breath as she stares down at my hand.

Her chair nearly tumbles behind her as she bolts out of the seat, throwing her one good hand up in the air. "I'm here!"

The nurse leads us through the emergency room bay.

Individual beds line the wall, each area divided by a paper curtain.

The empty bed meant for Y/n is unacceptable. Between the person retching behind one partition and the individual on the other side hacking up their lung, I refuse to let her be seen here.

"I'd like my…my friend, to be taken care of in a private suite," I speak up. I know I sound snotty right now but honestly, I’ll be damned if I let her already horrible hospital experience get any worse.

The nurse grimaces as her gaze licks across my body. "This is a hospital. Not the Ritz. Take a seat and wait for the doctor like everyone else."

Y/n hops on the bed without any complaint, and I'm tempted to grab her and go elsewhere. The nurse doesn't seem the least bit bothered by all the noise happening around us as she checks Y/n’s vitals and asks some routine questions.

Y/n answers each one while chewing her bottom lip raw. This atmosphere couldn't put anyone at ease, least of all her.

The nurse hangs the clipboard at the foot of the bed, and I decide to try again.

"I'll pay whatever it takes to have her seen somewhere quieter. Money is no object."

The nurse only replies by shutting the paper curtain in my face.

Y/n laughs while I stare at the curtain, dumbfounded to be treated like this.

"You find this funny?"

She nods, her eyes alight for the first time all night. "Did you see her face when you said money is no object? I think if she didn't put the clipboard away, she would have slapped your face with it."

"It's not my fault she isn't accustomed to how things are done in the real world."

"Wake up baby. You're living in the real world." She waves around our room.

"It's terrifying." I say, looking away so she couldn’t see the blush that appeared on my face at the nickname.

"Come here. I'II make it better." Y/n pats the bed.

Doubtful, but I'm a glutton for giving her what she wants lately. Paper crinkles as I sit next to her. I take up most of the bed, giving her little room to get away from me. My thigh brushes against hers. She tries to scoot away, but there isn't enough space.

“Isn’t this cozy?" she quips.

I give her a small smile before she asks, “Hey! Let me see your tattoo.”

God I’d forgotten all about them. I move the collar of my shirt to show the two small ivy leaves we’d gotten. She gasps and gently touches my skin, “Oh my gosh it’s so pretty Connie.” she stares at it for a moment before I ask to see hers.

She lifts up her shirt on the side, exposing her ribcage and the two matching leaves.

“I can’t believe you agreed to get a Taylor Swift referenced tattoo with me Con.” she says as I admire the tattoo for a bit.

I smile until saying, “Hey I might be quiet and mopey but at least I have good taste in music.”

She softly smiles at me before eyeing the IV bag with horror before checking out the exit.

"What’s wrong?”

She leans closer to me and whispers, "Is now a bad time to admit I pass out whenever someone tries to stick a needle in me?"

My lips lift at the corners. I don't know why I find the idea hilarious, given her ability to watch eight consecutive hours of true crime documentaries without so much as flinching.

"You're afraid of needles?"

She sputters. "No. I'm not afraid. It just happens to be a bodily reaction I can't control."

“That's good then because the nurse needs to set you up with that IV when she comes back."

“No! Don't tell me that! I thought she was one of the good ones.”

I nod, pressing my lips together to prevent myself from laughing.

"She lied to me!" She bolts from the seat and would have tripped over her own heels if I didn't reach out and catch her.

*Careful." I place her back on the bed and decide to stand guard in case she gets any ideas to flee the scene.

Her eyes fit from me to the gap between two curtains, as if she is thinking how she can get past me.

"I'm joking.”

She scans my face for the truth before she slaps my shoulder with her good hand. "Asshole! I believed you!"

Laughter explodes out of me like a bomb, stunning her.

“Did you just laugh?”

"No."

“Yes." Someone calls out from the other side of the curtain.

“Now, do you mind shutting up? Some of us are trying to get some sleep over here after having our stomach pumped."

Fuck this place and the people in here. "We're leaving."

"Not so fast. You can't leave before I check you out." The doctor strolls in and points at the bed with his clipboard.

Y/n remains tight-lipped as the doctor checks her chart. He asks her some questions about how she got hurt, all while staring me up and down like I'm the person she was trying to injure. She is taken away for a few scans, and my breathing doesn't return to normal until the nurse brings her back.

That should be my first sign that things are getting out of hand on my end. I'm inching closer to an emotional minefield without any kind of map, only one wrong step away from exploding.

The doctor checks the scans. "It looks like you have a boxer's fracture."

Her face brightens. "That sounds badass."

I glare at her. "Calm down, Muhammad Ali. I wouldn't count today as a victory by any means."

The doctor's eyes lighten. "Next time, avoid any initial contact on the fourth and fifth knuckles."

"Please don't encourage her."

The doctor shakes his head with a laugh before giving Y/n a detailed set of instructions regarding the healing time. I'm skeptical about the whole visit and, given the setting, doubtful about the level of care. I'll be damned if Y/n sustains permanent injuries because of Dean. My chest tightens at the idea.

“Great Thanks, Doc!" She hops off the bed, but I hold my arm out, stopping her

"I’d like a second opinion." The command bursts out of me without any rhyme or reason. Deep down, I know a boxer's fracture isn't the worst thing that could have happened. But things aren't right in my head where Y/n is concerned. At least not anymore.

Both of the doctor's eyebrows arch. "For a small fracture?"

"Don't mind him. He tends to be a bit overbearing." She shoots me a look as if I'm the crazy one out of the two of us.

"Okay..." the doctor says.

Maybe I am losing it because why else would I care?

You hate it when she cries.

You wouldn't mind murdering someone who hurt her.

You took her to the hospital even though you despise them with every fibre of your being.

The signs all point to one thing: our situation is quickly crumbling, and I'm the only one to blame.

Y/n interrupts my thoughts. "I'll be sure to wear the brace for a few weeks and avoid any kind of activities that could aggravate the injury."

"Perfect. And don't forget to schedule a follow-up visit with your physician. "The doctor gives me one last look before handing Y/n the discharge paperwork. "Nice meeting you."

"Will you help me with this?" She holds out the clipboard with her left hand as the doctor leaves.

I grab it from her and fill it out.

She checks the time on her phone. "Well, at least that didn't take as long as I thought it would. I'm sure you're dying to get back home."

That's the scary thing. I didn't think about anything or anyone once during our entire time here because making sure she was taken care of was my only concern. I've spent the past seventeen years of my life thinking solely about my future, and all it took was one girl to make me completely forget about my responsibilities for a few hours.

As if that doesn't scare me enough, it only takes one glance at her makeshift brace to make my blood burn hot under my skin. I know exactly why her injury angers me more than anything else.

It's the same reason I feel the urge to push Jere away from her whenever he gets too close or the way I unexplainably need to see her whenever she is out of my sight for longer than a few hours.

You’re in love with her.

Fuck.

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y/n’s pov

We’re in an Uber on the way home, sitting in comfortable silence until Conrad breaks it.

“Why’d you get with Dean anyway?” My stomach doubles over.

Comfortable silence is so overrated.

I sigh. I’ve been dreading this question for ages now.

“I don’t know.” I answer vaguely.

Conrad gives me a puzzled look, “What do you mean you don't know? You must’ve had a reason.”

His restlessness gets me more agitated.

“I don’t know Conrad. I don’t know why I got with him, I don’t know why I was waiting on you for so long either.” I look out the window as the car stops in front of the house.

“What? What do you mean?” he says as I get out the car and speed up to the front door, taking the keys out of my pocket and refusing to carry on with this conversation anymore.

Conrad keeps yelling after me as he follows me upstairs to my room, both of us trying to ignore everyone else who joined Conrad and are trying to ask their own questions.

I slam my door shut and collapse on my bed hearing Conrad trying to calm everyone down and telling them everything that's happened until he asks them all to give me some space for now.

I cry in the silence as I hear everyone leaving from outside the door until it opens.

“Hey.”

Steven. Thank God.

“Steve…” I say sniffling.

He looks at me with a sad smile before sitting on the bed with me and taking me in his arms.

“Con told us everything,” he says after a few minutes of holding me, “did you really get a boxer's fracture?”

I laugh in tears before showing him my hand and saying, “You should see the other guy.”

Steven and I laugh together before going back to the silence as he hugs me.

“He really cares about you, you know.”

“No he doesn’t. He hates me. I yelled at him and now I’m crying here on my bed like an idiot.”

“Did he say anything to you?” Steven looks down at me.

I shake my head before saying, “He asked why I got with Dean.”

“Oh. That’s not too bad.”

“No it’s not.”

“Then why are you so upset?”

“Because I’ve been waiting for Conrad for so long and I’m just sick and tired of always being there to help him get over his breakups when he’d be so much better off with me. I know I sound selfish and none of my reasons are justified but I just thought that after everything we’ve been through together, he’d maybe like me just a little bit.”

Steven hugs me again and softly says, “He does.”

After that almost everyone but Conrad came in to check up on me and make sure I was okay, making me feel even more guilty about being all emotional like this. It’s not until Susannah’s holding me and whispering sweet nothings that my eyes start to feel heavy.

I think I fell asleep after that, I don’t remember much except waking up to the sun shining its very unwelcome face in my eyes.

I step out of my room after freshening up and I’m about to make my way to the kitchen for food until I’m stopped by something in the hallway.

Or should I say someone.

“Conrad,” I bend down and stroke his hair out of his face, “Conrad wake up.” I say gently.

He stirs for a minute before sitting up and taking my hands in his.

“Have you been out here all night?” I ask.

“Yes.” he says in a raspy voice.

God that voice would make my knees give out if I wasn’t already on the floor with him.

“Why?”

“I need to talk to you.”

I sigh before he interrupts me, “Listen, I heard everything you said to Steven last night and I know I shouldn’t have and I was eavesdropping but I’m sorry it was by accident. And I know I don’t deserve any more of your time…I’ve already wasted a lot of it but just hear me out for ten minutes.”

“No.” I try to get out of his grasp.

“Stop fighting and give me ten minutes.”

“No way.”

“Nine then.”

“Five.”

“Eight and a half.”

“Six.”

“Seven.”

I pause, knowing that he won’t let me go anywhere before I hear him out.

“You don’t deserve seven seconds, let alone seven minutes of my time.”

“How about seven words then?”

I laugh. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I am falling in love with you.”

I blink up at him. Either I am still sleeping or I must have not heard him correctly because there is no way Conrad Fisher just admitted that he is falling in love with me.

Absolutely no fucking way.

Right?

I squeeze my eyes shut as if that can erase the words from my memory.

"You're joking.

"I'm not."

"This is just another part of your game." I try to push him away, but he doesn't budge.

"It stopped being a game for me a long time ago."

"You're lying."

His brows pull together. "Ask me why I hate when people touch my bookshelf."

"Are you serious right now? What does that have to do with any of this?" I think back to his bookshelf he won’t let any of the others go near but loves to let me organise and re-organise each year.

"Because I did it for you."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I read somewhere online that organising objects like books and things is good for people with anxiety, because then they can feel in control of something and know exactly what to expect especially if things are the same as they've predicted all the time. You love reading too, so I changed it. Bought all the books you like to read so that you’d stay and read with me more often. I forced everyone else out of my room and especially away from that bookshelf. All because I wanted to help you."

Emotions clog my throat, preventing my ability to reply.

What can I possibly say that could compare to that?

Conrad doesn't give me an option as he continues. "Want to know why I kept this plant you got me?" he says pointing to the small green cactus with “Don’t be a prick” written on the pot that we could see looking into his room from the hallway.

I nod.

"Because it was the first time someone got me a present that made me laugh."

If hearts could melt into puddles, mine would be liquified right about now.

I take a deep breath.

Remember what he did.

“Con that doesn't change anything you still ignored me for a whole year. Every time I tried to call you or text you, you’d just leave me on read or decline, and now you’re telling me you love me? Who does that?"

"Someone who doesn't understand the first thing about loving someone, but is willing to try if you give me a chance."

"You want me to give you a chance after everything? Do you think I'm stupid?"

He winces, and a bit of my anger fades away at his vulnerability.

"Intelligence has nothing to do with this."

"Easy for you to say when you're not the one who feels like a fool."

"Really? Because based on your reaction today, I'm feeling pretty damn foolish for ever admitting that I'm falling in love with you." He gets up off the floor, leaving me feeling chilled to the bone.

"Con..." I reach out, but he takes a step back.

My eyes sting from his rejection. It hurts.

“I’m not asking you to love me back. I don't expect that and I'm not sure if I ever will because I'm the furthest thing for lovable. I'm selfish, and rude, and don't know the first thing about being in a proper relationship with someone. But that doesn't mean I’m not willing to try for you if you let me."

How am I supposed to be angry at him when he thinks he is unlovable?

A pain rips through my chest at the thought of him talking about himself this way.

I get up off the floor and walk straight into his chest. His arms quickly wrap themselves around my waist, holding me even tighter.

"Just because you make selfish choices doesn't mean you're a selfish person. At least not completely."

This boy had been there for Belly, Steven, me and Jere for years without any kind of payback, especially when Susannah was going through her cancer and despite feeling an immense amount of pain himself, he shoved all his emotions aside so that he could be there for us. For me. If that isn't a selfless sacrifice, I don't know what is.

"Your logic is half-baked at best."

"So is yours, seeing as you called yourself unlovable."

His body tenses. "I'm stating facts."

"I don't know what bullshit your father told you over the years, but it's not true. Your brother loves you."

"He’s obligated to."

"No one is obligated to love someone else. Blood or not."

He takes a deep breath. "You're right."

I smile up at him. "I could get used to hearing those words."

He reaches up and cups my cheek. "Give me a chance and I'll tell you them every single day."

I sigh and look away. "I don't know.”

"Tell me what's stopping you."

"You don't do relationships."

“Good thing our feelings lead us here rather than our minds, and mine are willing to try then."

I avoid his penetrating gaze. "What if my feelings are telling me to run?”

“It's cute you think you can outrun me, but I'll give you a head start just to make things interesting." he smiles down at me.

"Do you always have an answer for everything?"

"Not for the one that matters most." The way he looks at me stirs up something deep inside of me.

Longing. I want to give him a chance, regardless of the potential fallout.

You might get hurt.

I might, but I might miss out on something special because I’m too afraid of the what ifs. I'm done being that person. Even if it means getting hurt, I'd rather try and fail than never try at all.

I stand on the tips of my toes and press my lips against his.

He holds me tight against his chest, as if he is afraid of letting me go.

I pull away, only to clasp onto his chin. "This could be a disaster, but I'm willing to try."

He shuts me up by pushing his lips against mine, sealing our new deal. The way he kisses me is different than any time before. He cups my face with the palms of his hands as his lips mold against mine, teasing me until I feel dizzy. His thumb brushes across my cheek back and forth, and heat rushes down my spine straight to my belly. He makes me feel cherished. Protected.

Loved in a way that makes me never want to come back down to reality.

I could spend forever being kissed like this and still feel like it isn't enough. While Conrad might not be the best with words, his kiss says it all.

He is falling in love with me. And I’m falling in love with him. No translation necessary.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

ahh i cant believe its finished omg😔💔...

anyways, onto the next one😍🙏

again please lmk what you think of this and please give me requests on what to do next!!

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x y/n #fanfic #fics #tsitp #belly conklin #jeremiah fisher #steven conklin #the summer i turned pretty #1999 #conrad x reader fluff #conrad x y/n angst #conrad x y/n fluff #conrad x reader #conrad x y/n

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poormeowmeowcollector · 3 years

Text

Let me give you my life

Pairing: Loki x Tesseract

Warnings: Major Character Death, Mourning, delusions, mental illness, alcohol, Original Character Death, Odin, fantastic racism

Summary: After Frigga's funeral, Loki starts hearing a voice. It changes their life completely.

Chapter 2: Verse 2

Chapter warnings: alcohol, depressive symptoms, fantastic racism, stuttering written by someone who doesn't stutter

Chapter summary: in which the Stone starts to influence

Previous chapter, AO3, next chapter

My church offers no absolutes / she tells me "worship in the bedroom" / the only heaven I'll be sent to / is when I'm alone with you

"How was the dining with the good masters?" the Tesseract asks. Loki swears it's sarcastic.

"Terrible. The ones that didn't demand for me to leave were whispering and staring, and some even pitied me… I should have never told Odin that you showed me," they sigh as they lay down, seiðr creating a glass of wine in their hand. Usually, his magic has a tickling sensation, playful and livid. But since Frigga's death, it's numb.

"You're right, I don't belong here… I don't belong anywhere…" they sigh, staring into the goblet with the red liquid. Perhaps, if he could find the strength to end it all…

"No, this is not the solution to your problems. You won't find your family there," it cuts off the train of thoughts before Loki can even process it.

"The only person I ever knew as family is there, Tesseract. Why can't I join?" they don't cry from the mention of Frigga, they haven't done it for weeks. He's just as numb as his magic now, the talks with the Tesseract and goblets of wine being the only things that can make him feel something, but they start weakening too.

"She lied to you, like Odin did. They taught you your magic, yes, but also how to hide what you feel and who you are. She is to blame for the nothingness you feel now, just like Odin is. Tell me, is that what family does?" it argues.

Loki opens their mouth, but closes it again. "No… then, what do I do?" he asks, staring at nothing.

"You live, until you find something worth dying for," it responds, voice softer than ever. He just scoffs and brings the golden goblet closer to his lips.

A blue light makes the goblet vanish before Loki can take a sip, filling them with the dark red liquid. "Hey! That's my favourite tunic, you needn't stain it!" He glares at the top right corner of his chamber.

"You have not taken it off for a week,"

"Because it's my favourite tunic,"

The stone lets a sigh. "Go take a bath, change to your second favourite tunic, try eating something that's not wine and act like you're the heir of two thrones for once or I'll teleport you to Muspelheim and let you burn,"

Loki sighs and gets up, following the shower order (especially because they've started to feel their hair going oily and gross). He had almost missed the feeling of scorching hot water on his skin, even though it started to hurt since his Jötunn form came to the surface.

When they walk back into their chamber, damp hair dripping on their second favourite tunic, they spot a tray of fruits and tea on their bed. "Thank you, Tessie," he smiles and sits beside it, his stomach begging for him to raid it.

I was born sick, but I love it

"I am not negotiating. Not until this monster is out of your house!" Gæirasson spits, small vacant eyes glaring at Loki. They don't shift their face or posture, but the room still freezes.

"Please, reconsider your words. One should not offend a prince like this," an elf notes, as if Loki cannot speak for himself.

"You're to ask for permission before you speak, Gæirasson will only get angrier with you." Odin had told them before the council.

"Please, learn how to manage your fury. You'll start a war without realising it if you keep going like that," Frigga had said countless times.

"A prince of monsters, yes. Isn't worth any more than the Giants I've sent to Hel," the outrageous man growls.

"Do not let him speak to you like this, you're worth much more than these words," the Tesseract says. Loki breaks his posture to take a deep breath, and then turns to Odin with a calm face.

"Father, may I answer to those words the way they deserve to?" they ask, never breaking the collected face. It fools Odin enough to nod a yes.

And Loki lets a grin appear, showing his fangs.

The water inside the goblets turns into ice as Loki rises from their seat, pale skin fading to reveal a blue and marked one. With his new height and black horns, he barely fits in the room, bloodshot eyes glaring at the old man enough to make him think that the thin irises would turn into daggers and stab him.

The man shivers, but not from the cold

"We are not afraid of your riches or your army and your bravado is fooling no one, G-Gærasson," they state, not breaking eye contact as their tongue strammers.

"You think you can scare me when you can barely speak, Giant?"

The negotiation table breaks in half as Loki slams his hand on it. "You have spoken enough!" they yell, summoning a new wave of shivers down the lord's body.

"You will leave this room unharmed only because of my mercy, and you know well that your words have given me every right to kill you right here and right now. You want to bring war to my house, I don't give a fuck. You know why? Because we both know very well that I can chop your soldiers to pieces without using neither my Frostbite nor seiðr and with ease. Go ahead and start a war, I have no problem to end it. The only demand the palace has is for you to pay us with the gold you owe and get lost. Or else, your house will cease to exist and will stay in history only as an example of what happens to those who anger me!" he growls, never breaking eye contact with the lord and not mouthing a single lie. Gæirasson loses his colour, stands up and leaves, panting like a dog.

"Loki, enough. You have your war, are you satisfied?" Odin asks after the door closes.

Loki's fiery eyes turn to the king.

"Satisfied? You should be the one to do this! This man offended our house and the throne greatly, they canonically deserve execution! And you made me sit there like a coward and listen to those insults!" they yell, this time out of frustration. The old Loki would never raise his tone at Odin, good thing he's gone.

Odin takes a deep breath, trying to keep themselves under control. "My son, I understand that you're going through a bad time, but there's no need to lash out like this. Would your mother like seeing you growling and yelling and cursing like a sailor?"

"You have no right to bring her up, she has nothing to do with it!" Loki's fury only gets wilder after this. But Odin does not coward away.

"I said enough! Shut your mouth and leave right now! And you'll be in charge of the war, since you can end it with such ease," he yells back, ten times louder and more intense. Loki lets the Æsir glamour return but doesn't lower themselves more as they walk away.

"You started a war, do you regret it?" the Tesseract asks as long as they're alone in a corridor. Loki grins.

"Not a bit."

Command me to be well / Amen, Amen, Amen

Loki walks around in his room, his fingers picking up each other once again. They tried to quit this habit after Frigga's death, but to no avail.

"Te-te-tesseract," he calls out, biting his tongue at the stutter. Since they've started the war, this annoying stutter has come back at full force, probably from the stress.

"You summoned me, Entropy?" it asks, more like states. Usually, Loki would find comfort only with the stone. But now, it only makes him move nervous.

"Y-y-yes. I did-I did call you to-to…" they puff out some air, closing their eyes with shame.

A hand grabs his hands, making them calm down. Loki raises their head to face an illusion of the Tesseract, trying to mimic contact.

It's a form of a body, tall and lean and glowing blue. Its eyes are looking at him with sympathy, face soft. It's the most breathtaking person Loki has ever seen.

"You can speak freely with me, don't fear," it smiles, tilting its head. Loki lets out a sigh.

"You said that, w-wh-when I'm r-ready, I-I'll agree to your-to your commands. I-I am ready," they speak, not even trying to mask up some confidence.

"I'm glad to hear. But, you'll have to acknowledge that there'll be a cost-"

"I don't care. I-I've lost ev-ev-everything already. You're th-th-the only one left," he lowers his head.

The hand moves to their face, cupping their cheek and brushing its thumb against their cheekbone, huge blue eyes staring into them. He can't help but tilt towards the hand, closing his eyes and breathing slowly.

"Perhaps you shouldn't… I've caused you enough pain, why seek out for more?" it doubts. It's almost funny, listening to doubt in a voice Loki knew to be so determined.

"I-I-I'm sure. Ple-please," they whisper, opening their eyes again. The form nods.

"Very well, Entropy," the serious and awe striking voice Loki knows returns, moments before the blue form vanishes in a light.

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parkertech · 4 years

Text

Tattoos & Tears - CHAPTER 1

a/n: on everybody's 18th birthday, they get a tattoo of their soulmate written on their wrist. for you, it's your best friend who you thought you got over. who even has a girlfriend of his own.

warnings: swearing

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It had been exactly a month since the trip to Europe. You spent the entire week by yourself, isolating yourself from Peter. You didn't want to, but after seeing him kiss MJ on the bridge, seeing your crush since the 7th grade kiss another girl, your heart shattered. He sent countless texts, but you ignored them all. If you even thought about him, the tears came out like a waterfall and the aching in your chest became stronger.

By the time the week was almost over, you realized something. Despite the jealousy, insecurity, and overall terrible feelings you felt, you realized Peter was happy with MJ. And all you wanted for him was to be happy. So, you sucked it up, and shoved your feelings down.

You came back to school happier than ever. You convinced yourself Peter was just a crush that didn't work out. To your surprise, life was easier like that. When you were introduced to MJ, you found out you had a lot more in common than you thought. You didn't feel a ping of jealousy when Peter and MJ kissed or hugged or showed any sort of PDA. You just rolled your eyes playfully and complained about them being cute.

Eventually, even Ned had his own girlfriend—Betty Brant. Betty joined you and MJ, and all of you became a trio. Everything was perfect.

And everything brought you to right now. You were walking to your house with Betty and MJ, you being in between them, chatting about the usual. Until Betty brought it up.

"Wait...isn't it your birthday soon, Y/N?" She said a little shocked. Your eyes widened along with MJ's.

"Holy shit you're right! I have only a week left!"

"And then you get to find out who your soulmate is!" Everyone's 18th birthday, was their famous day. Not only because you became basically an adult and almost graduated high school, but it was also because your tattoo would come. It would reveal the love of your life.

"Who do you think it could be?" MJ spoke up. You shrugged your shoulders while thinking.

"Maybe Aiden in Physics?" Betty sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. "What? I think he's cute and has potential! Plus we went on a few dates that weren't half bad."

"Oh please, Aiden? We all know who it really is, Y/N." She gave you an obvious look, and you just shook your head with a confused expression. "Brad Davis!" It was your turn to roll your eyes.

"What, you don't think he's cute?" MJ asked a little shocked.

"It's not that! I just...I don't know..." Okay, you had a tiny crush on Brad. But you never admitted it. Because he kind of became a player after the blip. Every girl found him hot, and leeched onto him. Which kind of started his reputation. You didn't want to be one of those girls, but you couldn't help it with his soft hair and gentle, yet mischievous smile. Not to mention, his muscles....

"Oh, please! You do know! It's gonna be him, I bet $100!" Betty exclaims.

"Well then I bet $100 it's Aiden. Just to compete." MJ counters. You giggled at the both of them as they finalized their bet. All three of you eventually made it to your apartment, and said your last goodbyes. You rushed to your room and spent a few hours on your phone, before getting to the more important things. In the middle of your homework, you heard a tapping at your window. You knew it was Peter before you even saw his familiar, bright smile behind the window. You hopped off your bed with a matching one, and opened the window for him.

"Whatcha doin' here, Spidey?" Peter didn't go to your window often, since usually at this time he'd be with MJ.

"MJ's at a peaceful protest and I'm bored out of my mind." He replied matter-of-factly. You rolled your eyes before moving aside and letting him climb in your room. He dropped his backpack on the floor before leaning over your bed and landing face first into the mattress. You chuckled a little before doing the same thing. He then fixed himself so he was on his back, and you turned so you were on his side.

"Someone's getting old in a few days!" Peter said sing-songy. You groaned before burying your face into your blanket at the mention of your special day.

"I knowww! God, I'm not ready." He chuckled at your response.

"Whoever your soulmate is, if he hurts you even once, I'm kicking his ass." Peter said firmly. You raised your eyebrows at him, a little surprised at his word choice and confidence.

"Whoa, who knew Peter Parker had the balls to want to actually kick someone's ass?" Peter just gave you an unimpressed look.

"Shut uuup! I'd totally be able to. I can stop criminals, for fucks sake." He countered. You scoff at him before sitting up.

"Speaking of my birthday, of course I'm gonna have a party, and it's mandatory that you come." Peter rolled his eyes while you put on a puppy face you know he couldn't resist. It always worked, whether it was asking for your favorite candy from Delmar's, or help with homework.

"Y/N...you know how I feel about parties..." Peter started. But you interrupted him.

"Nu uh! You're going! It's a necessity! No refunds, nada!" Peter realized there was no out on this, which caused him to groan a little. You sat there, expectantly waiting on an answer. Peter dragged it out, creating more suspense.

"Fine...only because it's you though." You squealed and gave him a bone crushing hug. Peter found himself hugging you back, and hiding his face in your neck. He could smell your perfume, and almost took a good amount of air to get a better smell. But that was weird. That's what weirdos do.

The rest of the night was spent watching Star Wars movies, cracking jokes, and Peter's constant complaining about your party. You constantly reassured him you'd make sure he would have a fun time, but that didn't stop him from dreading the event. Your fun ended when he got a text from MJ saying that she was back from her protest and wanted him to spend the night. Peter sighed a little loudly, which snapped your attention from the movie to him.

"What's wrong?" You asked in slight concern.

"MJ's back. I gotta go..." Peter felt a little guilty honestly. He barely spent time with you like this, and you were always so understanding. He didn't want to leave. Tomorrow was always another day, but this is his girlfriend. Everyone knows how the girlfriend feels about the girl best friend. But MJ wasn't like that, right?

"Oh, okay..." You didn't mean to sound so sad, but you knew how rare this was just as much as Peter.

Then a weird ache came back in your chest. You cleared your throat, holding your heart while Peter furrowed his eyebrows at you.

"You okay over there?" You nodded and waved him off despite how much it seemed to knot up.

"Yeah, I think it's just heartburn or something." You felt your cheeks flushing and grabbed the cold glass of water on your bedside table and took a big gulp. Peter kept eyeing you in confusion, but nonetheless kept packing up his things and opened your window.

"Okay, well...see you in History tomorrow?" He asked as his leg was resting on your carpet and the fire escape.

"Yeah, you're acting like we don't go to the same school, stupid!" You both shared a little laugh, and then you felt a weird wave in your stomach. Your face fell a little, but not enough to be noticed. You both exchanged one last goodbye before Peter was heading down your fire escape back to his house, where MJ was waiting.

On his way home, Peter felt a weird tugging at his heart. He found himself missing you, more than usual. It was probably because you two didn't spend after school hours with each other in a while. Right? Right.

You on the other hand, were wondering why your body was reacting that way to Peter. It's how you used to react to him when you had feelings for him. But you didn't anymore. You didn't. Have. Feelings. For Peter Parker. Even if you did, he's in love with MJ. And you can't do that to MJ. So there it is. Problem solved.

Letting out a long heavy sigh from your thoughts, you changed from your school clothes and put on a hoodie with some sweatpants. You turned off your bedside lamp before getting in your bed, pulling up the blanket to the middle of your ears. Your thoughts were still on how you reacted to Peter today. But you said it yourself. You got over him.

Peter is nothing more than a friend.

But there was a tiny voice that you tried to silence at the back of your mind.

Are you saying it because it's true, or saying it to convince yourself?

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@marvel4geeks

#peter parker #spider-man #spider-man far from home #spider-man homecoming #tom holland #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagines #spider man homecoming imagine #spider man far from home imagine

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