#it is about feeling seen for the first time in years since it may well be their last chance in whatever they're mixed up in | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sttoru · 9 months

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𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

⟣ sypnosis. you had been in your first ever relationship with suguru for a couple months now. neither of you have taken your relationship to the next level; suguru was extremely patient and never brought the topic of sex up until you one day decide you were ready.

⟣ note. first fic for my event :3 i spent way too much time on this fic so it turned out very detailed, long, romantic and fluffy. i hope you all enjoy and appreciate it teehee. this post contains smut, proceed at own risk ! wc: around 6.1k

⟣ tags. soft dom!geto suguru x virgin!female reader. fluff + smut. slow burn. age gap (reader 20-ish, suguru around 29/30), little talks about insecurity, loss of virginity, breast play, edging, teasing, fingering, lots of praise, dirty talk, size difference!, p in v — unprotected (dont b like reader and use protection please), creampie, aftercare, suguru’s really romantic and just a softie for u, suguru being a good ‘dad’ to mimiko and nanako and teeny tiny bits of him secretly being a pervert.

never in a million years had suguru expected his girlfriend to be so upfront about such a big, personal decision. the thought of having you say those words had never crossed his mind.

“can you repeat that for me, sweetheart?”

could you blame him for asking you to clarify the words you’ve uttered? that man has seen you as an oblivious and innocent woman ever since the start of your relationship. of course, unbeknownst to him, your thoughts were anything but that.

you may be a virgin, but your mind was a place for the most lewd and nasty thoughts. it’s just that you’ve been scared of being intimate with a man—it’s frightening, especially when having heard the many online stories about how badly it could hurt. some say that such descriptions were over exaggerating, however your inexperience still lead you to believe everything you’ve read about the topic.

and then you started dating an older man named suguru. you’ve met him by chance at a mall in kyoto and he was the first one who approached the other. you remember how suguru politely asked you for some advice regarding what type of presents he should get for ‘two teenage girls’. of course, you agreed to helping him out and that’s how you two eventually ended up brainstorming about possible ideas in a cozy café.

once seated, chosen drinks in both your hands, you asked the man whether the gifts were meant for his daughters. somehow, that’s the first connection the neurones in your brain had made once suguru told you about the two teenagers he was picking out presents for.

you remember it vividly; the sweet, gentle sound of the laughter that accounted as your answer, the eyes of the then stranger looking rather nostalgic as they stared into the liquid in his cup. suguru responded vaguely; “i guess you could say that, yes.”

that little ‘date’—if you could call it that—ended on a wholesome note. suguru thanked you for your time and made sure that you safely got into the train you needed to take home. he did want to offer you a car ride, however he kept that question to himself since he knew that no woman would voluntarily agree to be taken home by a stranger. even if suguru had the purest of intentions.

there were a couple more dates that followed after that one; all where you both gradually got to know each other better. you’ve found out so much about suguru—the details about his own life being both fascinating and sad at the same time. likewise, suguru had also learned much about you. he always shows great interest in what you tell him, even if it’s a minuscule detail. he remembers it all as well—a feature which caused you to feel funny things in your stomach.

you realised you were catching feelings for that mysterious yet sweet and loving man; it was inevitable. the way he makes you giggle, his respectful and easygoing manner of speaking, the slight touches you two shared on accident.. all of it added to your little crush.

however, you didn’t actually think suguru was falling for you too. you only met up for a few times, plus, you seem out of his league—both due to your age gap and difference in the things you’re pursuing at the time. you were in college, trying to get your degree whilst he already had a job as a powerful leader of an organisation and was trying to achieve one of many goals with them.

there’s not a chance he’d like you, right?

wrong. you were confessed to a couple weeks after your first meeting and have been in a relationship for over 4 months now. it still felt like a dream; having your first boyfriend be such a gentleman. it truly felt like you already met the love of your life whenever he was near.

suguru’s been nothing but sweet and caring to you, has never asked you to engage in any sexual activities nor even ever dared to touch you in places you haven’t consented to. the furthest you’ve gone in terms of intimacy in those four months, were make-out sessions. just some tongue action here and there—adding sprinkles of neck kisses and hickeys.

there were times where you wanted to let things escalate, however you couldn’t bring it upon yourself to ask your lover. suguru wasn’t the person to decide your feelings for you either—if there was no verbal consent coming from your lips, he’s not going any further. even if he wanted to as well.

you were grateful that suguru was that willing to wait for you, no matter how long it might take. not only were you anxious of the possible pain the sex would bring, but it was partially due to the fact that your lover was much more experienced in that field.

what if you were lacking? what if it wasn’t satisfactory enough for him and he’d eventually leave you for it? it’s obvious that suguru wasn’t the type of man to actually do that, however you couldn’t stop the many possibilities from running free in your brain.

your change of mind was rather spontaneous; it was today when you suddenly came up with your final decision. you were staying over at suguru’s, the sun was out and he was sitting on his balcony, reading a book whilst sipping on his coffee. what caught your eye was his bare back and the muscles which were on display to you.

suguru was shirtless and the seams of light were making his skin glisten—the view making your own body hot and bothered. you bit your lip and approached your boyfriend from behind, wrapping your arms around his shoulders before kissing his neck. that skin-to-skin contact made you sure of your decision; you needed him. in more ways than one.

that’s how you ended up saying what you said. the statement left suguru baffled since you uttered it in his ear out of the blue. he couldn’t deny one thing however; the idea certainly did send a shiver of excitement down his spine.

“i said,” you repeat with a little mischievous grin, leaning in closer to your lover once he turned around to face you properly—as if searching for any hints that your words were indeed not his imagination, “i wanna lose my virginity to you.”

it wasn’t. you actually said it—the words that would take your relationship a step further. although, suguru couldn’t help but wonder where your sudden decision came from. his hands found their way to yours and he held onto them like they were two delicate flowers.

“i’m happy to hear that, though i’m curious,” your lover starts off carefully as he places chaste yet soft kisses on your palms, “why so sudden?”

you shrug nonchalantly like you didn’t feel that twinge of nervousness in the back of your mind as you felt suguru’s lips on your skin. ‘it really was happening now, was it?’—that kind of feeling was the cause of your subtle anxiousness.

“well, ehh— you just looked good.. sitting there.. i guess.” you mumble, voice trailing off in embarrassment whilst your eyes darted around the balcony in attempt to avoid suguru’s gaze. your flustered expression and adorable confession makes him laugh gently. it was not a mocking laugh at all—more of an amused one;

“just when i thought you couldn’t get any cuter..” the long-haired man muses, the locks of his bangs grazing ever so slightly against your hands as he keeps holding them, “you never fail to surprise me, do you know that?”

suguru had a way with words that made you weak in the knees. or maybe it’s simply because he’s shirtless and kissing your palms so romantically. you don’t know which one it was.

“but, love,” suguru continues carefully as he stands up, your eyes following his as he towers over you, “are you a hundred percent sure? i don’t want to do anything you aren’t comf—“

“yes.” your answer cut your boyfriend off and he’s left in shock once more. your eyes were filled with determination, yet the faint glint of nervousness in them didn’t escape suguru’s sight. you’ve given your verbal consent and are even the first one to suggest the idea— what more could he ask of you?

there hung a silence between you two, the breeze blowing through suguru’s dark locks making him look even more majestic than he already was. you had no doubt about it; today was going to be the day. it had to be.

“then, if you’d let me have this,” his low voice sounded more sensual than it had ever been as his hand found its place on your cheek, fingertips rubbing against your ear, thumb softly pressing onto your skin—

a slow and romantic kiss followed straight afterwards. it had caught you slightly off guard, even when knowing fully well that this was what you were longing for.

his lips moved in tandem against yours, the soft touch making you feel certain emotions that you hadn’t even thought existed. this man whom you called your lover had never been unable to expose you to new sensations. and soon, he’ll grant you another one. a much pleasurable one.

one arm circled your waist, the other held up, hand on the back of your head to deepen the passion-filled kiss you shared. his lips parted your lightly trembling ones, the tips of your tongues attentively rubbing against one another as if to test the waters; was it fine to go further? are we actually doing this?

you were. it was set in stone as your throat formed soft noises of satisfaction, shaky breaths being exchanged by the two lovers on the balcony—not one of you realising that the weather was changing in the background. the sun was setting, creating the perfect mood for the situation as you were still engrossed by each other’s moves and touches.

it was only for the sake of catching your breath that you had pulled away. your cheeks felt hot, as did your entire body which was still pressed against suguru’s—chest to chest. the proximity was one you both had enjoyed many moments before, however this instant was unlike any other. you both knew as you stared at each other in silence, your quick breaths doing the talking instead.

“will you let me..” the voice of which you have grown to adore spoke to you, the owner grasping your attention once more by holding onto your hand. suguru’s fingers smoothly slid across your skin until they found the puzzle they were meant to complete—that being the gaps between your own fingers. once your hands were tightly intertwined, the man finishes his sentence;

“will you let me love you?”

his face was still close to yours as he uttered those beautiful words to you, warm breath lightly fanning the thin strands of hair on your cheeks to the side, lips subconsciously trying to brush against yours once more. but, they could wait. they could wait until the agreement leaves your mouth.

“of course.” the answer escapes before you could even register it properly. this makes suguru smile against your lips as he captured them in another sweet kiss. he muttered a small ‘thank you’ and then swept your legs off the floor—strong arms placed under your thighs to hold you up against his body whilst the hungry kisses continue.

suguru doesn’t know how he got there; carrying you over to his bed, settling you down onto the soft mattress, his body caging yours underneath him, eyes fluttering over every detail of your exposed skin. he hadn’t had you like this ever before; he hadn’t had you in his bed for a reason as sinful as this, only ever for cuddles or sleep.

“you’re beautiful.” the dark-haired man whispers as he carefully takes off the clothing covering your figure—the gorgeous skin his hands still have yet to explore. suguru can’t remember the last time he has treated anyone like this; like a treasure he’s had the honour to find and keep to himself. there hasn’t been a single woman in his life that he’s cared for this much—you’re the only one capable of mellowing him and his heart.

“stunning,” another compliment; another breath spent to praise you. your lover’s fingers teased the edges of your bra, lips kissing down your collarbone and towards the centre of your chest—each touch being done with precision. your bra became undone a second later and you let the straps fall of your arms, all the way until your breasts were fully revealed.

suguru’s breath hitches, mouth forming more saliva than in any previous instants, the liquid being pushed down his throat with a gulp. you didn’t have the chance to feel conscious of yourself in a moment like this; the dim light of the bedside lamp shone on suguru’s face, his lips glistening with a mixture of your saliva whilst his gaze was lingering on the new sight in front of him—he was utterly obsessed.

“may i?” his hands were already reaching out for the plump flesh and they came in touch once you nodded shyly. his palms were warm as they kneaded your breasts and his fingers brushed against your nipples, which made you whimper from how sensitive they were now that someone else has finally touched them.

suguru took notice of your reaction and put pressure on both small buds once again, thumbs rubbing your areolas in circular motions, “that good, princess?”

“mhmm— y-yes,” you mutter through a moan. your body was pushed further onto the mattress as your lover put more of his weight on you, your entire chest area getting covered by licks and kisses, slow and deliberate ones that left you yearning for more. suguru’s eyes gazed up at yours for consent once his parted lips hovered just above your sensitive nipples, his breath on them alone making you squirm already.

with another nod, suguru wasted no time taking one nipple into his warm mouth—wetting it with his saliva as his tongue slid around the area. his long fingers squeezed, twisted and pulled on your other nipple to give you both stimulations at once.

“mm, so good.” his muffled voice caused goosebumps to appear on your skin. suguru slowly lets his lips travel across your tits, sucking on them, even kissing down the curves until he reaches your torso. he gives that area the same amount of love and attention whilst your fingers were tangled around his smooth, long hair. suguru clearly seemed to enjoy the sensations; he let out small moans and hums against your bare skin to indicate that you should continue playing and tugging at his locks.

his tongue abruptly came to a stop right above the waistline of your panties—the barrier he was about to reach past for the first time. the hesitation was visible in his body language, however his fingers eventually tugged at the fabric, preparing to take it off.

your heart was beating out of your chest as you watched suguru slowly pull the last piece of cloth away. your thighs pressed together on instinct, stopping your panties from exposing your bare cunt.

“should i stop?” suguru asks with a raised eyebrow, fingers pulling away from your underwear now that he’s seen you close your legs. you didn’t want him to stop—it’s just the nerves that made your body move on its own command;

“please— no,” you shake your head, biting your lip as you swallowed your own saliva out of pure desire. you craved him now that it’s come this far, “need you. need you so bad, suguru.”

those words caused suguru’s brain to shut down. any irrelevant thoughts were thrown out of the window; the only thing his mind was telling him to do, was to take care of your needs. your body was laid out on his bed—trusting eyes looking up at his in anticipation, pretty hands grasping onto his sheets like it’d calm you down.

“i’m all yours, sweetheart.” suguru sighs, fingertips slightly shaking as he pulls your panties down to your ankles, eyes pausing on the revelation. to say that suguru was simply rendered speechless, was an understatement. that man was on the verge of letting loose of any self-control and just dive his face right between your thighs, eating you out like he’s fantasised of doing for a while now.

“fuck.” your boyfriend closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself before opening them to smile down at you—the handsome smile that was one of the many reasons you fell in love with him, “i’ll be careful. i promise.”

naturally, you nodded along. you’ve built up enough trust between one another during the past few months to let yourself be vulnerable in front of him. the palm of his hands patted your thighs slightly before spreading them apart, once again showing your glistening folds, a slight wetness to them from your own arousal.

suguru couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight. he’d already have devoured your dripping cunt if it wasn’t for his self-control. but, it was your first time. he couldn’t rush into things just yet.

“thank you, baby.” the dark-haired man whispered under his breath. he was showing his gratitude for the sight you allowed him to see—a sight only he had ever seen before. the only man to be able to witness the beauty before him. that fact alone made his eyes darken in lust ever so slightly.

his fingers carefully slid across your vulva, your bodily fluid coating the skin which makes him shiver and his fingers get bolder. the cute sounds that filled his ears were only making this even better for him.

the way your hips bucked up slightly into his touch—just asking for suguru to take you right then and there—was driving him insane. every vein in his body felt like it could pop with how much he was restraining his own self from acting out of line. his finger easily slid into the little hole and suguru almost couldn’t believe it; your pussy was clamping down on his finger, your insides tightly wrapped around him to the point that even he wouldn’t know if his dick would fit in.

“hnnngh, suguru, please— wan’ your cock already,” that dirty sounding sentence was one he didn’t expect to hear from a virgin. it made him shake his head with a small, delighted chuckle; you really never failed to surprise him.

“i know you do,” suguru purrs, pressing kisses against the curves of your tits whilst another finger of his joined to stretch your pussy out properly, “but i need to prep you enough if you wanna take my cock. can you be patient for me, sweetheart?”

“m’kay. gonna try..” his fingers pumped in and out of you, the feeling of them curling up deep inside you made your walls squeeze against them. you’ve played with yourself before, of course, however it was then that you discovered that nothing could ever compare to the real thing: suguru’s long and slightly girthy fingers.

just when you thought that it couldn’t get any better, you felt a third finger—not inside you--but on your clit, rubbing the small bundle of nerves like you could’ve never done to yourself. suguru was so precise and exact with his actions which showed his experience. that’s another reason of why you’ve put all your trust in him. getting your virginity taken by a sweet, older and experienced man was probably ten times better than losing it to any guy your age, who were probably only out for sex.

suguru was there to make love to you.

your back arched once you felt suguru’s fingers increase their pace, the wet and squelchy sounds echoing through the room as they got louder the more your pussy got played with, his thumb almost overstimulating your clit to the point of release already—that’s how superb your lover’s hand movements were.

“no, no. can’t have you cum on my fingers like that.” you whine once you felt suguru take his fingers back the same moment you were about to reach your first orgasm by someone else’s hands. the older man smirks at this and kisses you on the lips, pulling away slowly with your bottom lip between his teeth, letting it lightly flop back into place as he lets go; “i wanna have you cum together with me, okay?”

you couldn’t refuse such a romantic request, thus you nod. suguru smiles back at you once more before his hands move to take off his sweatpants, tossing the piece of clothing to the side. your eyes widened as you were propped on your elbows, gaze lingering on the massive bulge formed at the crotch area, his boxers not hiding much of the shape.

once the underwear was off as well—that’s when you realised that your underlying anxiousness was not for nothing. suguru’s cock sprung free, it was slightly curved near his pink tip, drops of pre-cum flowing down the length. you haven’t ever seen a dick in real life, only ever on the internet, so this had left you stunned. you didn’t know what the average size was for a man, but there’s one thing you knew for sure: suguru was definitely way above the average size.

“cat got your tongue, princess?” he teased, his hand absentmindedly pumping his cock to the sight of your naked body underneath him. suguru didn’t even know that he started doing that in front of you; it was out of pure instinct. he couldn’t hide the excitement in his body, his shaft twitching in his hand as if it desperately wanted to feel your tight cunt around it.

“uhm, s-suguru..” you stammer a bit, biting your lip as your eyes followed his hand motions which got faster once your sweet voice called out to him. something about you looking a tad bit intimidated by his size made him want to destroy your insides to mush—have you beg him to fuck you as he bullies his whole length into your poor, small cunt.

“i know, i know..” suguru reassures you, free hand giving you a few consoling head pats, “i’ll try to make it as less painful as possible, okay?”

you hum and watch how your lover settles between your legs, spreading them enough to kneel before you, upper body bending forward to place soft pecks on your forehead; he was encouraging and preparing you more in his own way.

your arms instantly wrapped around his back, sweaty palms set underneath his shoulder blades—you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, just waiting on that moment. that feeling you’ve been craving, yet also have been avoiding.

you waited for a bit, however the only sounds heard and sensations felt were the slight dent in the mattress near one side of your body, the bed creaking faintly. suguru was leaning on side of his body, one arm stretched out to open a drawer, apparently searching for a condom.

once you realised what he was doing, you shook your head and tapped his back twice to regain suguru’s attention. his gaze immediately flickered over to yours and his head tilted to the side in curiosity; “i want the full experience—no condom, please.”

his eyes widened at the request. you seemed to be dead serious, eyes glinting determinedly, lips forming a little pout— it was impossible to refuse you, although suguru knew that he had to play the role of the older, more wise and experienced lover in the back of his mind.

he parted his lips to list off the reasons why you should let him use a condom, yet the words died on his tongue. you were impossible to say ‘no’ to. not when you’re looking up at him with those pretty eyes.

“whatever princess wants, princess gets.”

suguru prodded your entrance with the fat head of his cock, circling the hole and wetting it more by using a mixture of his pre-cum and your own arousal. you took another deep breath and tried your best to hold tightly onto your boyfriend, arms wrapped tightly around his back with your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck—bracing for impact.

“tell me if it hurts too much,” suguru whispers in your ear, leaving one last kiss on your temples before pushing his hips forward, folds stretching out and apart to allow his cock through and into your pussy.

did it hurt like you expected? yes. it most certainly did. maybe even worse than you were prepared for.

“fuck— nhhh, fuckfuckfuck!” you hiss whilst your nails dig into the skin of suguru’s back, probably leaving red marks because of how much you’re clinging onto him—like your life depened on it. that’s quite literally what it felt like to you; body being forced to part and make way for suguru inside you, pussy feeling like it was burning by how big of a stretch it was to fit him in—if he actually would be able to push all of his inches into your tight hole.

“sshh, shh, it’s okay, try to relax for me, yeah?” your lover comforts you the best he could, stilling his movements for a couple seconds before gently slipping his cock further into you. it pained him to see the discomfort written over your face, however you hadn’t made any clear signs of wanting this to come to a halt. in fact, you were encouraging him to continue whenever he stopped at any indication of hurt.

“i can take it.. p-promise,” you manage to moan out. suguru breathed in deeply at your words and nodded, kissing your lips in hopes to distract you from any pain you’re feeling, “you’re too good to me, sweetheart. really.”

both of you exhaled deeply as suguru finally bottomed out, a long minute of reassurance and pushing now behind your back. your eyes had watered up a little, chest heaving as you tried to accommodate to the new feeling inside of you.

“take your time.” suguru utters gently, voice sultry and sweet whenever its directed at you. his lips graze against your cheeks, smothering the area with pecks to take your mind off anything else. the locks of black hair tickle your chin and nose, the hairtie that usually kept a good chunk of his hair in a bun now out of sight.

suguru hadn’t taken anyone’s virginity before and that’s what also made this opportunity special to him. he didn’t know how to thank you with words, so he showed his gratitude throughout his actions; lips kissing your shiny tears away, moving across your face to your forehead and eventually to your own round lips which had formed a cute pout.

you could feel suguru smile against your mouth, his tongue gently tracing the outline of your lips whilst mumbling words of affection and praise; “you’re taking it so well, baby. such a good girl for me— love you so much.”

you giggled lightly at your lover’s appreciative remarks, focusing on returning the kiss instead of the tingling feeling in your lower body. you pulled away after a bit and looked up at him with nothing but pure adoration; “i love you too, suguru.”

if suguru had the ability to freeze time, he’d want to do it during this moment, just to relive this bit over and over. he’s sure that this exact instant will be engraved into his memory for the many years to come.

and once you’ve given him the green light to move, he did it with caution, slowly but surely. his hips moved back and then forwards, girthy cock dragging along your walls at a leisurely pace, but just enough to make your pain transform into pleasure.

suguru’s big hands were placed on your hips, sometimes they’d leave their position to cup your chin and make you face him. he doesn’t want you to look away from his eyes; he’ll think you don’t like this if you do. besides, the thing he loves most about being in the missionary position, is that he’s able to hear how good he’s making you feel whilst looking into your eyes to see your face scrunch up in satisfaction. it’s so romantic and perfect. just like you.

“my little princess is so pretty.” suguru sighs in content and kisses your tears away, thrusting into your tight cunt in a comfortable pace—not too fast but not too slow, “the way you take my cock and still manage to look beautiful while doing it— you’re incredible.”

if the physical pleasure wasn’t enough, his added commentary would certainly be. you moan and whimper phrases that sound like his name over and over again; you didn’t know what else to say as your mind was foggy with the amazing sensations your body was experiencing for the first time. that was fine with suguru since all he wants was to see you enjoy yourself—this moment was for you. everything he did was for you—every thrust, every kiss, every touch.

“nhhg, too good, so good!” you mewl and leave more scratch marks across suguru’s back, ones which he didn’t mind at all. it only served as further proof of this special moment. the tip of his cock kissed the deepest parts of your insides, puffy folds parted widely to make room for more of his length until it felt like he actually was balls deep.

“mhm—you’re, haah, tight..” the once calm and collected man seemed to let loose of himself the more he felt your cunt swallow him all the way, gripping onto his dick as if you didn’t want to ever let go. suguru grunts and moves down to leave a couple hickeys across your neck, hips non-stop pushing against yours, “don’t think i can last long—fuck, yeah—you feel amazing, baby.”

your eyes roll back as the pleasure seems to build up in your stomach as well. it felt like a coil that threatened to snap at any moment and it’d release another immense wave of pleasure upon breaking. your body was on fire, sweaty and hot, just like suguru’s.

“can you cum with me, princess? can you wait and hold on for me?” he asks, and the questions sound impossible, however you could at least try your best to fulfil his desires. you’d also want nothing more than to reach your peak together with the man you loved.

“okay—mmhh—together.” you nod and your body tenses up, legs subconsciously moving to wrap around suguru’s waist, heels of your feet simultaneously tapping against his lower back along with his hip movements. you didn’t know how much longer you could hold out for as your breathing patterns changes, whiney gasps and choked up moans escaping the back of your throat as your clit bumps against his pelvis over and over.

“almost, almost—“ suguru curses through gritted teeth, his jaw clenching while yours did the opposite. your body rocked back and forth and the bed felt like it was shaking along as well. you could tell by the way suguru’s hips rolled against yours that he was close—his eyebrows were furrowed, eyes half-lidded but not closed to still hold contact with yours and his hands clutched onto your waist. all indications of his nearing climax.

“mnph, gonna cum— shit, shit, shit, i’m gonna cum—“ suguru swears under his breath a couple times more before snapping back into reality at the last few seconds. he realised once again that he didn’t have a condom on, so his first rational thought was to pull out and finish himself outside of your body.

you were also nearing your own orgasm, not thinking rationally due to the intensity of the moment, any other thoughts except for the man on top of you were thrown out of the window. you felt suguru try to pull his twitching and throbbing cock out before it could spurt its cum inside of your dripping cunt.

you whined and shook your head, pulling suguru in for a deep kiss while tightening the grasp your legs had around his hips; “w-want to feel you cum in me— want you to fill me up while i finish too.”

suguru’s breath caught in his throat, almost choking on his own saliva from your bold requests. his only rational thought instantly vanished from his mind, now all that’s left was pure love, pleasure and desire. the mental image of his cum spilling and filling your pussy to the brim drove him to the edge.

“all yours, i’m going to give it all to you, princess, yeah? fuck !” both of you relinquished in the feeling of bliss, the warmth and build up reaching its designated ending— the expected waves of pleasure washing over you both. series of soft moans, whimpers and groans filled the room as your pussy was flooded with lots of hot cum.

it was like suguru hadn’t came in years—that’s how incredible that orgasm was experienced by the dark-haired male. the same thing goes for you; your legs were shaking, hips squirming up in aftershocks as you squeezed down on suguru’s cock, quite literally milking him dry of every drop.

“nhh, haah— suguru, love,” your tired and powerless whispers caught his attention immediately. your trembling hand held onto his cheek in attempt to make him look at you. suguru’s fingers curled around your wrist, turning your hand away from his face and to the side so he’ll have access to your palm. his lips left a ticklish trail of pecks on them until his mouth found its home: your lips.

the two of you exchanged deep, exhausted breaths, your boyfriend eventually pulling out and rolling onto his side to cradle you into his arms—hand placed on the back of your head to rest your body against his chest. the following seconds were spent cuddling as you tried to regain composure.

“you were amazing.” suguru sighs, chin resting on top of your head whilst his hand rubbed your bare back in comfort, “are you okay, sweetheart? nothing feeling off or anything of that sorts?”

you shake your head and snuggle up against your lover, content with how things are right now. the afterglow of your little session—of your first time, made you happier than ever. you couldn’t believe it’d feel this good. maybe it’s due to the one you’ve lost your virginity to.

“i’m okay.” you mumble and lift your head up to look suguru in the eyes, faces only inches away from each other. there were no words in the dictionary that could describe how you two felt. the closest word to explain it would be flawless.

“i’m glad, baby. thank you for trusting me.” suguru flashes you a small smile and strokes your head. you stay like that, bodies intertwined in a deep and comfortable hug, whispers of sweet nothings filling your ears and subtle gestures of love making you feel secure.

a couple minutes later and suguru noticed how you started to doze off. he chuckled to himself before pulling away from your hug and standing up, only to have you pout and complain about the loss of warmth.

“i’m just going to clean you up, love.” the soft-spoken man utters to you, laughing quietly at the adorable state you were in at the moment. you were so dependent on him.

“should i prepare us a warm, relaxing bubble bath as well?” he asks, squatting down near the edge of his bed and taking your hands in his, maintaining eye contact as per usual.

“that’d be nice.” you nod and feel your eyelids close slowly, “can’t promise i won’t fall asleep, though.”

suguru lets out a soft exhale through his nose, corner of his lips curling upwards at your little comment. he couldn’t believe he ended up dating such an unbelievably wonderful girl. it’s a blessing in his life of curses.

“i’ll make sure to at least clean you up if you do fall asleep, don’t worry. you’re safe with me.”

you were sure he was an angel sent down from heaven. it was more than clear to you—even if it may not be to many others out there.

“thank you, suguru.” you murmur as your body relaxes into the soft mattress, “i love you.”

“i love you too. more than you could imagine.”

#ෆ : choose your fate.#jjk smut #jjk x reader #geto smut #geto x reader #jjk x you #geto x you #getou suguru x reader #jjk fic

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kasagia · 4 months

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The grudge (Losing your memory pt. 2)

Pairing: Young! Coriolanus Snow x fem!Capitol! reader Summary: You promised you would destroy him. Be his ending at all costs. The fight between you begins. Both about his position as President of Panem and about the feelings you still have for him. But the question still haunts you... is your Coryo really gone? The second part of Losing your memory, but can be read as a separate oneshot. Although I recommend reading it. Inspired by: "The grudge" by Olivia Rodrigo and @uhnanix idea/request Taglist: @uhnanix @serving-targaryen-realness @diannana @aoi-targaryen @omgsuperstarg @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi @un06 @tallulah477 @snowspubes @hueanhdang @snowspubes @phsychobanana @blythlover ~•♤♤♤•~ Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

"Wait... what do you want to do?" Clemensia Dovecote asks in shock when you invite her over a few days after your birthday party.

"You heard me." you reply calmly, playing with the Sejanus bracelet on your wrist.

"This is madness, Y/N. You can't… you…"

"You think so?" you ask, amused by her scandalized reaction. "The Capitol has seen stranger, worser things." you say, getting up from the couch and walking over to the mini bar to pour you both a drink. "Besides, you have to admit, it's an… exciting idea. People are going to love it… well, maybe not the old farts and those idiots from our year, but... I'm very optimisitc about it."

"Yes, but… my God, HE is going to hate you for this." she says with a growing smirk on her face. You laugh heartily and hand her the glass.

"This is the least of my worries. The question is... will you stand by my side?"

"Y/N? You've been quieter lately, has something happened?" your mother snapped you out of your thoughts as the three of you ate dinner together.

You replayed your conversation with Clemansia from a few months ago, wondering how to break the news to your parents… actually, now was as good a time as any. You doubt there would ever be a good time to convey something like this.

"I… actually yes." you say, clearing your throat and getting ready to drop the bomb on them.

"Is that Coriolanus? Did he propose to you?" you choke on the drink you were drinking and look at your mother with a dose of disbelief and disgust.

Apparently, the ridiculous amount of roses, chocolates, dresses, and even fucking jewellery that Coriolanus was sending you didn't go unnoticed by your mother. After the first month, you thought he would take the hint, but since he tirelessly sent you gifts, you stopped returning them to him damaged (e.g., cut roses and burned clothes) and decided to give them to the servants and maids and simply ignore that poisoned snake.

"What?! No, of course not. Besides, I wouldn't say yes like... never." you shudder at the thought, at which your father laughs, joining in on the conversation between the two of you for the first time.

"Then what is it?"

Their expectant glances intimidate you for a moment, and for the first time, you wonder if the decision you've made is right. But there was no turning back. You won't let Coriolanus win so easily (or, rather, at all).

"I… well. I've submitted my candidature for president of Panem."

The silence in the room after your statement is... extremely disturbing. They both freeze; your father holds the fork halfway to his mouth, staring at you in amazement, and your mother looks like they've frozen her. For a moment, you wonder if you've given them a heart attack. But your concern for them quickly fades when their loud collective screams echo throughout the dining room.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

"So I guess I won't have your votes then?" you ask jokingly, going back to cutting your steak.

"Are you crazy? A female president?!" your mother asks indignantly, and you roll your eyes. Honestly, you were a little surprised at her shock. As if you would ever play her role as an obedient wife.

"You may not know it, mother, but more and more female politicians appear in the government. Right, dad?" you ask him, using your only-daughter charm on him, mentally thanking everyone above that this man never treats you with disrespect and hostility like other fathers would if their only child was a girl.

Maybe you kind of enjoyed being his precious diamond after all. Even if that made you desired by all of Capitol's young men, who were more than willing to take your hand in marriage and dowry.

"That doesn't mean you have to be one of them! Y/F/N, tell her something!" you look pleadingly at your father, and after his long silence, you already know that you are melting his heart to your will. All it took was a little, gentle pressure.

"What are your real chances of winning?" he asks with a sigh as your mother looks at him with disbelief.

"Y/F/N..."

"I think my only serious opponent is Coriolanus. People are fed up with these fearful politicians who have been arguing with each other for a long time. Me and Snow are a fresh take on Capitol affairs. We are young and ambitious. People may choose us out of curiosity alone. And among the female electorate, I think I have a much better chance than him... if you can convince mother to let me do this, of course. I won't do anything without your blessing and support." you reply, looking at him confidently. His face is unreadable, as are his eyes, and you silently hope that you have inherited his ability to hide your emotions.

"Y/F/N you can't think about that seriosuly. She can't do this!"

"If you want to be in power, wouldn't it be better for you to join forces? Run a joint campaign. You would become Prime Minister, and he would become President if being a First Lady didn't suit you."

"I am Y/L/N. I am taking everything or nothing." this one sentence makes his façade break down. He smiles and clears his throat, trying to hide his proud smirk behind his glass of wine.

"Very good. You know your bank account number. If you need more campaign funds, in a reasonable amount, of course, you know who to ask." you smile at this and get up from your chair, ignoring your mother's words of protest.

"Thank you, father." you say, kissing his cheek and leaving the dining room, leaving him to deal with your mother's anger. You had to call your staff. The game was about to start.

You enter the parliament building quite uncertainly. You are wearing a white suit made by Tigris. The black vest, which is intended to liven up the outfit, fits you a bit too tight, but you blame it on the fact that you've been stress-eating sweets lately. You will ask her to sew you appropriate clothes later.

For now, you wanted as few people as possible to know about your candidacy. You trusted Tigris, but there was no way in hell you could let Coriolanus find out about this beforehand. You will present him with a fait accompli.

Just like he did when he chose Lucy Gray.

You notice him first. He is wearing a blood-red suit and a snow-white shirt. You wonder if subconsciously it's his reminder of the deaths of the people who allowed him to be where he stands now, but you prefer to think that the bastard simply has no conscience.

You could easily escape from him, but you don't want to. Not any longer. He will be the one running away from you. So you walk straight up to him, the click of your high heels echoing off the marble floor of the Parliament building.

"Nice suit." you say to him. He lifts his head and turns to you as he hears your voice. You can't read the look in his cold, blue eyes, but you don't care about that now. You're only here to stick a pin in him before his performance. "You wore your father's clothes and now you wear Sejan's? Maybe you haven't really changed at all." you scoff at him, and he shakes his head with an equally mocking smile as yours.

"This is probably the latest collection from your favorite designer. Not that I remember." he says, putting his hands in his pockets and watching you carefully as he takes a step towards you.

"Impossible. My favourite designer is Tigris. And I heard that lately you're too much of a snobbish, self-assured asshole to wear what she made for you."

"Maybe it's because she's turning you against me, trying to convince you that I'm a monster?" he says this ironically as you both stare at each other.

You notice that the rose is missing from his jacket pocket. His hair is also messier, as if he's running a nervous hand through it—a habit that obviously hasn't died with your Coryo. You frown at this but shake it off to respond to his taunt.

"Maybe you are actually a monster, Coriolanus? Didn't that occur to you? How could anybody do the things you did so easily? Or maybe Dr. Gaul calls this an unconventional, out-of-the-box way of thinking?"

"At least she's not pretending to be someone she's not." he growls at you, furious, a grudge shining in his eyes, at which you seethe in anger. He, of all people, has no right to resent you.

"At least I can honestly say I'm not a murderer. And what about you?"

Before you can react, he takes a step towards you. One of his hands wraps around your throat like a snake. However, he remembers that you are in a public place and quickly moves his hand to your cheek and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. His icy eyes are locked on yours as he tries to read any reaction from you. You give him nothing. And you're damn proud of it.

"If you didn't come to wish me luck in my first public appearance as a candidate for president, you should go. Before I give you a real reason to call me a monster, little diamond." he whispers quietly, the tone of his voice laced with threat, but you don't give a damn.

"Oh, snowy… I really wish you a lot of luck. You'll need it, my boy." you say, patting his chest dismissively. You walk away, making sure to bump his arm with yours as you move past him to go to the hall where the first recording for the presidential candidatures of Panem is to be held.

And you already know that it will be hard for you not to look at him, as a furious surprise will appear on his face when he sees that you will also be presenting your programme and announcing your candidature.

You've regretted your candidature many times over the past two weeks. Partly because you had to spend more and more time with the devil in a fancy suit. You didn't see this coming; you were too busy thinking about preventing him from winning. Now you had to attend balls with him and other candidates and various events that helped promote your campaigns, smile at cameras and photographers, and try to remain as polite and courteous to others as you needed.

Like now.

You were attending some important business event, and your uncomfortable high heels were digging into your skin, hurting you. But it was worth bleeding a little. You looked drop-dead gorgeous.

"Tomorrow you have an interview with the Capitol Times; the day after tomorrow we are promoting in the children's ward at the hospital; at the end of the week we both have to go to Fulvia Cardew's engagement party. And in the meantime, you have to go to at least three fittings of new clothes that Tigris made." Clemensia says, writing something down in her small notebook.

"Thanks, Clem. I don't know what I'd do without you." you say with a small smile as you sip your glass of champagne.

"You'd have to keep that stupid calendar and schedule yourself. If you want to help in some way, you can finally answer one of the many calls from Coriolanus. He torments both me and the servants in your house at night."

"And make my mother lose hope that someone is courting me? No thanks; this way, I have peace from her, and I don't have to talk to him longer than I should. Besides, I thought you liked it when I gave you the gifts he somehow managed to leave at my door."

"At some point, yes... but you will finally have to clean up the relationship between you two. Even if we win, Coriolanus will remain an important political player, and it would be good to have him on our side. Besides, it's obvious that he… oh shit. Gaul is coming." she says, terrified, and leaves you. You turn around just as the co-creator of The Hunger Games walks up to you.

“Miss Y/L/N. Congratulations. You surprised me.” you swallow the rest of the champagne and set the glass on the table behind you, preparing to face this crazy woman.

"I think half of the Capitol was in a similar condition. But I appreciate the gesture, Dr. Gaul." you say this with a polite smile as the woman looks you up and down. You're glad you're keeping yourself from trembling under her scrutinising, watchful gaze.

"Mr. Snow seemed to be particularly surprised. As soon as he returned to the lab, he came up with wonderful ideas for next year's Hunger Games." she boasts, and you smile fakely. It sickens you to think about what these two could have come up with for these poor children. But you don't show it. Instead, you chose to strike back.

"I heard that after Lucy Gray's disappearance, their... popularity dropped a bit. I hope things are going well with the sponsors? It would be such a shame if the project and ideas had to be... cancelled due to a lack of money."

"We're doing well. When Mr. Snow becomes president, I think the government will be more willing to fund them."

"IF Mr. Snow becomes president, Dr. Gaul." you correct her, slightly irritated. The woman smiles and nods her head mockingly.

"Of course... If." she says it with a wolfish, menacing smile.

You both stare at each other with hatred for a moment, both of you refusing to give up in your little battle. The atmosphere between you is tense.

You flinch when you feel a hand on your back. The delicate scent of roses begins to float in the air.

"Dr. Gaul. I am so happy to see you here. Y/N, you look amazing as always." Coriolanus says as he leans in and places a kiss on your cheek. You would wipe it in disgust if there weren't other people around you.

"Mr. Snow." Dr. Gaul greets him.

The mysterious smile never leaves her face as she watches the two of you. You remember what she just said. How Coriolanus was still so eagerly working with her on the Hunger Games. His hand on your back starts to burn you in an unpleasant way.

"Excuse me. I need to get some fresh air. It started to stink in here." you say, subtly implying that it's the scent of Coriolanus and his rose that bothers you as you walk away from them both.

You go to the roof of the penthouse, which is surprisingly empty, and take out a cigarette. You search for the lighter, thinking about what Gaul told you. Somehow you felt even more distant from Coriolanus... as if she emphatically confirmed what you already knew.

Your Coryo was completely gone. And there was nothing that could bring him back to you.

But why did you still care about him anyway?

"I didn't know you started smoking." you flinch when you hear his voice behind you.

You ignore him, trying to light the lighter, but to no avail. Apparently, today everything must have gone shitty for you. Seeing your struggles, he walks over to you. He takes a lighter from his pants pocket and holds it to your cigarette, lighting it.

"What the hell do you want?" you ask him madly, at which he raises his eyebrows, but he is not moving away from you.

"What? You won't even thank me? You know, I've helped you there. I could just leave you to talk with Gaul, but I walked in and took her attention from you." he says, stuffing the lighter and his hands into his pockets as he leans on the railing next to you, staring at the skyline of the Capitol below you.

"I didn't need a fucking hero. I could have left her at any time. Unlike you, I don't play vaseline, I don't humiliate myself, and I don't do anything I don't want to, just to please other people." you snort and blow a cloud of cigarette smoke at him. He coughs, looking at you offended, to which you just smirk.

"You know, I remember the time when you were doing everything in your power to please ME. In many, many ways, actually." he says, using his hand to wave away your clouds of cigarette smoke.

"Keep these memories close to you because they will never happen again. I'd rather be burned alive than ever sleep with you again." you say it with obvious disgust. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the furrow of anger forming between his eyebrows. "Don't frown. Or make-up artists will have a hard time covering your wrinkles."

"I have no idea why you are so aggressive and act madly when it comes to me. I didn't do anything to you." he responded firmly to your mocks, never taking those ice-blue irises off of you.

"That's the problem, Coriolanus! You think that you don't do anything wrong, when the truth is that you are taking actions that are terrible. I feel like puking just looking at you and thinking about how many children will suffer because of Dr. Gaul's and your crazy ideas." you burst out furiously at him. You are now standing opposite each other, both of you glaring at the other in a furious, defiant way.

"The Hunger Games are necessary."

"Bullshit." you interrupt him before he can make any arguments. You see him sigh, running a hand through his gelled hair.

You catch yourself subconsciously missing his curls and how you used to stroking them when he was lying with you on your couch and reading a set book for one of your classes…

"Have you ever been in the District? 10, 11, 12? No. You didn't. You have no idea what kind of people are leaving there. You live in the safety of the Capitol, and you have no idea how quickly these rats can start a civil war and rebellions. Did you forget what they did to us? How have we suffered? I lost my father, and my family went poor. I had to pretend that I was still a rich snob. Tgiris, my grandmother, and I starved more than once; they wanted to throw us out of the apartment. I had nothing but a meaningless name and family."

"You know, that was the time when you had everything. You had friends, family, and a girlfriend. My love and limitless devotion, respect, and admiration. Now what do you have left? Money? Power? Glory? Besides, people are not the same. They can be good, Coriolanus. The fact that you are too afraid to see or admit it is proof of how huge a coward you actually became." you say it disappointedly, dropping the cigarette to the floor and stomping on it.

"I am not..." he pauses as you look up at him, and your eyes meet. He thought that no one could silence him. But one look from you, full of resentment and sadness, makes him fall silent.

You make him feel weak. As if he was still that poor teenager who had to hide his family's terrible financial situation. Only now he's hiding the fact that your words are actually reaching him. That they actually hurt him.

He couldn't afford to have any weaknesses. He had to be strong, tough, and decisive. However, after one look at you, it was enough for him to begin to question everything he had learned under Dr. Gaul. To question everything he did after the fucking Hunger Games and Lucy Gray.

"Yes, you are. Everything you are doing and every bad decision you've made, you made out of fear. Fear of losing your life. Of losing your position. Of never coming back to the Capitol. You are a coward who desperately tries to play the brave man that matters in this world."

"You have no idea what it was like in the district! Or in the Hunger Games, when I had to get Sejanus out of there. You don't know what you would do in such a situation, so don't you dare stand there and judge me. Not when all I could think about in those days, what kept me away from absolute madness, was you." he says, desperately trying to present his actions to you as right, to make you understand his point of view and the reasons why he did all of these.

"Maybe not. Maybe I don't know what it's like. But I would never become the cause of the death of my best friend. You have his blood on your hands. I will never forgive you that." you notice him flinching at your words, but that's all you can see through the mask of indifference he suddenly decided to wear. But his eyes—his eyes and the emotions hidden in them—remind you so much of your Coryo.

"Do you think I have removed it from my memories? That his screams didn't haunt me in my dreams? That I simply forgot about him?"

"You are certainly on a good way to do it, Coriolanus." your soft whisper gives him goosebumps. You look at each other for a moment. When you realise he has nothing to say, you shake your head, laughing bitterly, mocking yourself for thinking for a moment that he really was more than just the cruel Gamemaker, and turn away.

You walk towards the exit, but suddenly you hear his quick footsteps behind you. He wraps his arms around your waist with one hand and holds your hands with the other, making sure you don't break away. He rests his forehead against the back of your head, inhaling your scent for a moment before whispering into your ear.

"Do you remember that place?" he asks, his nose stroking your cheek. "Our second date. Sejanus, let me take you to one of his parents' penthouses. They were supposed to be on vacation, but they came back earlier. We had to hide on the roof and wait since they would leave so we too could. We had a picnic here. I was holding you close to my chest, a little closer than I am doing now. It started to rain. I was furious because I wanted everything to be perfect for you, and as always, everything went terribly wrong. I wanted to look at the stars with you and run my hands through your hair while you fell asleep on my chest, cuddling up to me as if I were your teddy bear. I loved feeling the weight of you on me. In every circumstance. Anyway, we gathered everything and ran to your house. You let me into your room through the window. We took a hot shower together and..."

"And then happened the worst sex I've ever had." you interrupt him, trying to regain control of the situation. He only laughed at that, which made your heart skip a beat when, for the first time in so many months, you hear him laughing truly, not in a mocking, bitter, or fake way.

"The worst? Your moans and scratches on my back proved otherwise. Besides, considering it was the first time for both of us, I guess I did a good job. Your silky skin has haunted my dreams since that night. It never stopped. And judging by the way you are breathing right now, you also seem to think about that time fondly. We can do it again at my place tonight if you want. I am now in a much better position to truly make your nights unforgettable."

"I'd rather be bitten by one of Dr. Gaul's snakes, but thanks for the offer." you huff, getting out of his arms and pushing him away from you as you go to the exit of the Plinth's penthouse's roof.

"Don't tempt me. You know I can arrange it. Sucking the poison out of your delicate skin with my mouth is a really tempting alternative." he says, following you as you both return to the main hall.

"Disgusting pervert." you whisper over your shoulder so that only he can hear you in the crowd of elites and reporters who have gathered.

"Both of us, my darling. Both of us. But the point is..." he grabs your hand and helps you down the stairs as if he was a true gentleman. You would roll your eyes at this, but people have already noticed, you know, that you have hardened the mask of politeness on your face. "I remember everything. I am not losing my memory. I never will. Not about you. Not about us." he whispers, and you feel his blue eyes burning a hole into your temple with how intensely he stares at you.

"You must be mad to think that I will just go back to you. Besides, I don't have time for you. My voters are waiting for me."

He chuckles and gives you a mysterious, quizzical look that you can't read. But before you can analyse his stance, he pulls your hand to his mouth and places a gentle kiss on it. His full lips tease your skin, setting it alight with the reminder of all the times he's had the opportunity to do this.

He pulled away from you as quickly as he leaned into your hand. He smiles, giving you a view of his pearly teeth. How pleased the devil is...

"We shall see, my little petal." he whispers. Your old nickname he gave you one day is sounding as perfectly sweet as it used to, and you are not sure how much strength you have left in you to not let him melt your heart. Then he walks away from you, leaving you in the crowd of other people.

And you stand there, rooted to the floor, and all you can do is stare at the back of his head as you try to snap out of the feeling of his lips against your skin, trying not to dream of experiencing all of him again.

A week later, you were returning from another party. You managed to sneak out a little earlier than usual without anyone noticing. Relieved, you got into the empty elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. You leaned against the wall and sighed, rubbing your neck, where you wore a diamond necklace. Your momentary alone relief didn't last long.

As usual, you smelled him first. The faint hint of roses hit you as the man leaned against the wall of the elevator next to yours, giving you some space. You glanced at him casually. This time, he didn't have a rose on his vest. He was also much paler.

"The makeup artists chose the wrong powder for you." you say, not knowing why you even initiated a conversation with him.

"Was Thomas so tired that he couldn't stay with you until the end? Was he too scared to hold on to the precious diamond that had fallen into his hands like a grain to a blind hen until the end of the night?" he responds to your taunt. You frown at the hint of jealousy in his voice.

Coryo has always been possessive and unsure of your relationship and whether you might leave him one day for someone better. Therefore, any man's attention towards you caused... unpleasant feelings for him. He obviously still had this behaviour towards you. Even though you were no longer together.

"He has an exam. Anatomy or some other shit. But don't worry, he will definitely accompany me when the election results are announced."

"Seriously? Are you now going to show off with that little boy-toy?" he asks you furiously. You can feel how his cold blue eyes are piercing right through you.

"Livia Cardew?" you scoff as well, opening your eyes to glare at him with an equally disgusted look. "But you know what? Actually, I'm not surprised. The biggest whore in Capitol. After you, of course."

"You slept with that whore 374 times. Which makes you equally slutty, little petal." he says with a cheeky smirk. You huff, folding your arms as you look at him in disbelief.

"I can't believe you were pathetic enough to actually count this."

"You're lucky I've lost count of the number of orgasms you've had because of me."

"And you are disgusting." you shake your head, impatiently waiting for the elevator to go down to the ground floor so you can get far away from him. You try hard not to think about all the times you had… done this.

But he doesn't let you go that easily. He leans down and brushes your hair back to give him better access to your ear to whisper.

"And you crave me as much as I crave you, my darling."

"Do you think that just because you started donating to charity organisations, I will suddenly fall into your arms or into your bed? You think I don't know you're doing this as part of a campaign? To get more votes? Are you that stupid to think that I will fall for it and believe that you are trying to be a better man for me?" you ask him, angry and defensive, mocking him.

"I'm starting to doubt my ability to do anything you could approve of. But it's nice that you still care about me enough to be interested in what I do."

"You can give up your candidature for president if you want to see me happy." he laughs at your words, looking at you with a mischievous smirk.

"And make it so easy for you? No way, my darling. We both know that only the two of us have a real chance of winning. You should finally surrender and join me. We both know this is where we'll end up. I, with you by my side, just as it has always been."

"Not always. I remember very well the time when it was only you and your songbird." the elevator is on the second floor when he aggressively presses the stop button.

You try very hard to hide from him the fact that you feel insecure in this situation. In a small space, with him practically at your fingertips, you don't know if you can control yourself. So you try to remember all the disgusting crimes he committed.

"It was just a game. A show for the Capitol. You know I had to win. It didn't end the way I wanted, but you know perfectly well that I had to do it." he says, placing his hands gently on your shoulders as he tries his hardest to keep your eyes on him and you standing still in your place for the time he talks.

"I've already told you this. There is always another choice." you growl in his face, furious, refusing to give up.

"You wouldn't even talk to me if I still remained a nobody. You would have dumped me the moment it became known to all Panem that my family was poor and that Snow's name meant nothing. And marrying you would only be a distant dream of a madman."

"As if you had any chance now." you mock him with a laugh. You somehow push him away from you and press the start button. The elevator starts moving down again.

"I have your parents' blessing."

"And my disgust and resentment towards you."

There is silence between you for a moment. He stubbornly stares at your face, trying to read some emotion there, but you give him nothing but a blank stare at the door in front of you as you impatiently wait for it to open.

"What do you do when you win?" his question catches you off guard for a moment. You look at him in shock.

"What?"

"What do you do when you win? Bring an end to the Hunger Games? Try to get me killed? Why are you doing all of this?" he asks, standing directly in front of you. Your chests rub against each other with every breath you take. You lift your head slightly, staring at him defiantly.

"So YOU won't win." you finally reply, shuddering as he takes your hand gently in his and starts tracing patterns on it with his thumb.

He leans towards you so that you could rest your chin on his shoulder if you wanted to. You shiver, feeling the warmth of his body close to yours and feeling his lips gently brush against your earlobe.

"Snow lands on top." he whispers, hot air caressing your ear as he bites the lobe of it.

"Y/L/N takes everything." you whine, digging your nails into his neck. He gasps in surprise, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he presses you against the elevator wall with his body.

"Or nothing. But don't worry. When I win, there will be no one who can stop me from marring you."

"IF you win, then I will be gone. You will never find me. Just like your little songbird." you can see the fury in his eyes at the mere mention of her. His grip on you tightens.

"She is not mine. You are. Accept it and end this. You don't want to be president. I do. There is nothing more powerful than you and me, so and this damn kind of punishment for me and accept your place as my First Lady."

"Maybe I don't want this… but it will be so funny to watch you fail," you say, tilting your head and watching him closely as his nostrils flare with rage at your stubbornness. "Besides, I'd rather shoot myself in the head than be your wife."

"There was a time when you wanted it. When it was all we dreamed of. You and me. Together. Against the whole world."

"That's how it was. When I thought you were worth something more, when you were my top priority. I thought you wanted something more than money and power, but it looks like I never meant for you that much to be as important to you as you were to me. Or maybe I didn't know you at all." you say, no longer hiding the hurt in your voice, and you press the button on the damn elevator to get away from him.

You promised yourself that you wouldn't show him how much he hurt you or how much you missed him. But apparently he wanted to make sure he destroyed not only your Coryo but you as well.

You look away from him, ignoring the fact that he suddenly went quiet next to you. All he did was look at you. And you avoided his gaze, afraid that you would melt in front of him and that you would show him your heart again.

The elevator opens, and you sigh in relief. However, it doesn't last long. You tense up when you see reporters downstairs, waiting at the exit.

"Smile for the picture." you say, and drag him with you towards the exit.

You quickly let go of his arm as he obediently follows you, and you try to ignore the fact that his fingers lightly brush against your hand as if he wants to grab it. You move away from him gently and quickly walk past the reporters and paparazzi.

You quickly get into your car and nod to the driver to go. You lean back in your seat and sigh deeply, placing a hand over your racing heart. You can't help but glance at Coriolanus.

Thanks to your car's tinted windows, he can't see you. Still, he watches your car with his eyes, and for a small moment, you think that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't all rotten to the core. Maybe, in his twisted way, he still cares about you.

The first round of elections was behind you. As you expected, Coriolanus and you achieved the greatest results. The game for the presidency of Panem has begun to be fought solely between you two.

And you were about to play the first dirty card against him. Clemensia nods at you as you head towards the podium and the microphone.

"Good evening, everyone. Thank you very much for all your votes and the trust you have placed in both me and my, well, rival after all." people chuckle gently, you find Coriolanus' curious gaze in the crowd. "I am convinced that, no matter who of us wins the upcoming elections, Panem will be in good hands anyway." You see a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes as he comes closer, moving freely through the crowd. The look in his blue eyes never leaves you for a minute. You would tremble, intimidated by his attention, if you didn't know, what would happen in a few minutes. "Without further ado, I would like to introduce someone who will certainly make this evening more pleasant. You have no idea how much I had to beg our star of the evening to agree to perform today. Ladies and gentlemen. At my ask and to your delight. The one and only Lucy Gray Baird!"

As you leave the stage, you glance at Coriolanus, seeing him staring at the woman with the guitar appearing on stage in shock and mild horror.

You stand further away from the crowd, on the other side of the room—as far away from Coriolanus as you can be—and watch him carefully, leaning against the wall.

You have to admit that Lucy Gray is stunningly beautiful. And the legend she has created around herself, her voice, and her skills only make her more perfect in the eyes of others.

You're not surprised that she charmed Coriolanus months ago and now. In fact, you expect Snow, too overcome with emotion upon meeting her again, to forget his façade and pursue her. With a bit of luck, maybe your people will be able to take compromising photos of him.

But you are surprised when, after watching her for a while, he shifts his gaze to the crowd of people, looking for something. You freeze when his eyes meet yours. You raise an eyebrow, not sure why, instead of staring at the girl, he stubbornly searches for your gaze. Or rather, you don't want to admit that you know the reason why, because that's exactly why you quickly leave the great hall of parliament and run away from the man who is now walking towards you.

And much to your misfortune, Coriolanus Snow learns from his mistakes. That's why you suddenly bump into someone a few metres from the exit at the end of the corridor leading to the elevator. You collide against a wall of toned muscles. His arms quickly wrap around you, keeping you from falling.

"Leaving so soon?" his whisper sent unwanted shivers down your spine, as did how close your face was to his.

"Get your hands off me." you snap at him and get out of his grip. You stare at the elevator, contemplating how to get past him and get in, but he sees your intentions in your eyes and blocks any escape route with his body.

"What game are you playing?" he asks, staring at you. You lift your head, returning his defiant glare. "I don't even care how the hell you found her. Why is she here? What do you need her for?"

"Shouldn't you try to catch your little songbird before she flies away again?" you mock, ignoring all of the questions he asked you.

"I am." he says, staring firmly at you, making you more confused by his actions than before. He should have been after Lucy Gray… why the hell was he keeping you pinned to the wall, blocking your only escape route with his body?

"What?"

"I am not letting you run away. We are solving this here and now." he says this, looking around the hall. You take advantage of his moment of inattention and try to free yourself from his strong grip, but he doesn't move even an inch in your struggle. Fuck his peacekeeper training.

"We have nothing to solve, get it into your stupid head!" you shout at him in frustration, unable to get out of his arms.

"You know what your main problem is? You don't allow yourself the idea that you might be wrong or that you don't know everything about me. I may be a monster, but I've never lied to you. About anything. Lucy Gray and I had nothing when you were with me. Whoever gave you these stupid rumours was lying. Ask her. She'll tell you that the only thing I did was kiss her. When I was drunk in District 12, exactly the day after I got there. And do you know why? Because I was convinced I had fucked up my life and I would never see your damn face again. And fuck, even kissing her couldn't get you out of my mind. All I thought was you. All I think about is you. I can admit it out loud. How about you?"

"I despise you." you growl angrily, struggling in his arms.

"Yes? Then why did you frame Livia for engagement to Festus? You think I don't know it's because of you that they were caught fucking in the garden together?"

"I wanted to discredit you. Show that your girlfriend is sleeping with anyone on the side. Besides, you made Thomas fail at university, and he had to retake his exams today, which is why he couldn't show up. I had to take revenge."

"No. You were jealous of me. You wanted to get rid of her and you did. Why are you playing the gardener dog? Why don't you just admit that you want me?" you roll your eyes at him, trying your hardest to hold on to your internal irritation and fury at him. But it was a very demanding task, considering how his mesmerising icy-blue eyes were now watching you very carefully.

"I don't want you." you say, trying to sound firm but also a little indifferent, enough for him to believe you. But you can see by the way his eyebrow raises that you've screwed up something.

"Yes? Then kiss me." his sudden command leaves you extremely stunned. You almost lose the fight with yourself to keep your jaw from opening from shock.

"What?"

"If you despise me, if you don't care about me, then you will have no problem with kissing me and walking away like nothing had happened." he explains, moving closer to you, your noses brushing against each other, you feel his breath brush against your lips, and the warmth of his mouth is so close that it makes you feel as if you could actually touch him.

"Let me go. I'm not going to make a fool of myself for your own amusement. Those days are gone forever; we are not a couple, and we will never be together again. Get over it!"

"Then kiss me. C'mon. Prove your point. Kiss me as if you hate me. As if you despise every little part of me just as much as you claim. Prove that you have absolutely no feelings towards me despite hatred and grudges."

And God, you want it. You want it so much that it hurts you not to be able to press your lips to his right here and now.

You know that the moment your lips meet his, all your cold demeanour towards him will melt away like snow in spring. You know that you will easily return to his arms, giving yourself to him and proving nothing in your favor. And you've come so far—too far—to let him see past your facade now, to let him make you want him even more than you already do.

You shiver as he leans in so that his nose brushes yours as he gently cups your cheeks in his hands. He doesn't make the first move. Of course not. This cunning snake tempts you to give in to your greatest, darkest desires, which you feel ashamed of for having managed to survive in the recesses of your heart.

"End this torment. For both of us sake."

Just a gentle touch, you think, hearing his whisper and feeling his body softly press against yours, complementing you perfectly as always. One taste of his lips. Just one...

Your heart beats fast, and your breaths are mingling in the small space still left between you two. With a trembling hand, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. His fucking eyes are all you can look at, the unspoken request shining so brightly in them that you can't mistake his desire for anything else. And you give in, tilting your head to place your lips so close to him...

A loud bang makes you both pull away from each other. A drunk senator staggers towards the elevator, nodding at the two of you. He mumbles something under his breath, and after a quick glance towards Coriolanus and a nod of his head, you decide that he will walk him away and make sure he doesn't tell (or remember) how outrageously close the two of you were just moments ago.

You walk back to the party, trying to calm down enough to let the blush fade from your cheeks.

You make sure that Clem sends Lucy to her hiding place after her performance, and you continue to politely smile and pose for photos, promoting your allegiance.

And the next day, when you are reading the morning newspaper, you notice in one of the photos that this bastard put a rose behind your ear.

It was raining heavily.

It was late at night as you were preparing for your speech the next day. You walked around your room with a piece of paper in your hand, gesturing and practicing proper intonation and posture.

“Miss Y/L/N?” you stop when you hear the voice of one of your maids. "We have… an unusual situation."

"What? Did something happen?" you ask, confused at her uncertain tone of voice.

"It depends on how you interpret the situation, miss." you raise an eyebrow at her questioningly. She points to the window. You frown in surprise, but walk over to the window anyway.

"What the bloody hell is he doing here?" you whisper, seeing Coriolanus standing in your garden. He was completely soaked. His hair and coat were soaked with water, clinging to him as he stared at your window, standing still as the rain hit him.

"David says he's been there for several hours. He tried to talk to him and get him to leave, but Mr. Snow… just stands there."

Your first instinct would be to close the curtains and pretend he wasn't there, but you didn't want to think about the scandal that would start if anyone found out that your rival was standing outside your window in the full rain like some lovesick puppy. It was obvious he had to be here for a reason. It was probably some dirty play on his part. Something that was intended to negatively impact your candidature.

But then you looked at him. Even when you showed up, his gaze was... disturbingly empty. He couldn't fake it that well. It was not like he could completely hide his reaction to seeing you.

"Does anyone else know about this?" she shakes her head, and you sigh. You have no idea why he's standing outside your window in the heavy rain. You're just thanking fate for him choosing the day your parents left the Capitol to behave so strangely. You just hoped no meddlesome paparazzi saw him. "All right. Make sure it stays that way." you ask her and walk out of your room.

Walking downstairs to get to your coat and umbrella, you wonder why the hell he's standing outside in front of your mansion, staring at your window, risking getting sick with all the rain pouring down on him furiously.

It has happened before that he was standing under your window. Before this whole Hunger Games thing started, Dr. Gaul and Lucy Gray he would often sneak up to you through your window to talk about what was bothering him.

But that was a long time ago. And now you had no idea what he was doing out there and in all this rain.

You wrap your coat around yourself and take an umbrella as you go outside. The rain somehow seeps through your shields, hitting you unpleasantly. Water droplets start to soak into your clothes. You wonder how he stayed there for so many hours.

"What the hell are you doing here? Are you crazy?! Is this another one of your sick tricks against me?!" you shout, walking towards him. But he doesn't answer. His eyes are locked on you as he stands there, motionless. You notice that his eyes are bloodshot from crying, and his hands are shaking slightly, as well as all of his body. You don't know if it's from the cold or from crying. "Coriolanus?" you ask, starting to seriously worry about him.

He trembles even more, not looking at you. He fixes his gaze on your shoes. What worries you is that he is completely oblivious to the rain pouring down on him. As if he didn't feel anything at all anymore.

“Alright, come on.” you say, pulling him by the arm towards your mansion. You hide him a bit under the umbrella, but it doesn't change the fact that he's soaked like a dog. Maybe even worse.

His silence, the lack of any emotion on his face, worries you. You haven't seen him like this before. So… empty.

You enter the house through the back entrance. You put the umbrella down and turn towards him. Seeing that he's still not reacting to any stimuli and acting like he's on some kind of autopilot, you walk up to him and start unbuttoning his coat.

He doesn't comment on your behavior. Neither do you say anything. You just want to get him out of all those wet clothes so he won't get seriously sick... You have no idea why you worry or why you care. Maybe you are on some kind of autopilot too.

As you lead him to your room, you are involuntarily reminded of all the times he snuck there with you. When you were still the closest people to each other in this world. When you came to each other for comfort. When you were each other's only shelter.

"I should still have some of your old clothes here. You should go change and take a warm bath. There's no way you wouldn't get sick after this." you say, walking over to your clothes chest and looking for some of his old shirts and pants.

"Grandma'am is dead." he says it in an empty, emotionless tone of voice. You freeze in shock and slowly turn to face him. He still stands where you left him, his gaze blankly fixed on the space next to you.

You don't say anything. You don't know what to tell him anyway. You just stare at him, waiting for him to say something more. It bothers you how he just… doesn't do anything. Acting as if all that was left of him was an outer shell, a facade that barely held together.

You walk up to him and take his cold hand hesitantly into yours. You stare at them for a moment and look up, meeting his icy, bloodshot eyes.

"I... I am so sorry, Coriolanus." his bitter laugh at your words might be a good sign after his disturbing behaviour earlier, but somehow it worries you even more than his silent attitude and blank stare.

''You will never forgive me, will you? You will always see me only as a monster? As a murder and nothing more?" he asks, hearing that you still call him by his name, even at a time like this. The version he hated, instead of the sweet nickname he hadn't heard in a long time. Which even Tigris stopped using.

"Thta's not..." you start, concerned at the calm tone in which he says it. As if the truth of what was happening between you was starting to dawn on him.

"This is exactly what I am to you! A heartless monster! But you know what?! I AM NOT! And you... you are a hypocrite." he starts getting angry and pushes your hands away from him as he paces around your room.

"Me?!" you scream at him, disbelieving. You step in front of him, blocking his path and forcing him to face you.

"YES! You! You may not be a murderer, but you do something much worse. Your indifference, your hatred, and your aversion towards me—do you think it doesn't do anything to me? You've been killing me and hurting me day after day since I left the fucking Capitol and was sentenced to exile. And since I came back, your face, your voice, and your memories haunt me more than ever before. Missing you is killing me. Watching you from afar is killing me. Not being able to hold you in my arms is killing me. You said you could confidently say you're not a murderer. I do not agree. You kill me every day, and each time in a more cruel way. But all I can do is follow you like some faithful puppy, waiting for you to change your mind and give me a chance to show you that I'm not lost, that I'm not a monster, and that I didn't WANT any of this to happen! I spend every sleepless night, when I can't pass out in bed due to exhaustion and lack of sleep, thinking about you! And even now... when my life is falling apart around me, all I can do is... come to you. Just like I've always done."

He's shaking with emotion, and you think you've never seen him so moved or so shaken before. You wonder if he might have gotten drunk, but those thoughts quickly leave you when he suddenly leans down and wraps you in his arms. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent as he continues to shiver. His wet clothes start to soak yours, but all you feel is his breath on the skin of your neck.

"I miss you so much, petal…" he whispers, and you stroke his wet hair, unable to tell if it's his tears soaking the collar of your shirt or his wet clothes or skin from rain. In fact, it doesn't really matter to you at all right now.

"Why did you come here? Of all places…"

"And where else could I go?" he interrupts you, his eyes looking at you so… pleadingly. As if there really was no other place on earth he could go in such a situation, where he could wallow in his grief and despair.

"I don't know… to Livia or…" he cuts you off before you can finish your sentence. He tangles his hand in your hair and pulls you in for a kiss. His lips are terribly cool against yours, but it only enhances how amazing you feel as he caresses your lips tenderly with his.

He slowly steals the warmth from you, which you're strangely happy about while he's deepening the kiss. You press yourself against him, slowly warming him up, his wet clothes uncomfortably transferring their wetness to yours, which you ignore in favour of kissing him. Just like the drops of cold water dripping from his hair onto your forehead, which doesn't sober you up and doesn't make you move away from him. If anything, you place your hand around his neck and pull him closer.

Eventually, though, you both have to pull away, gasping for air. You both take shaky breaths, his forehead resting against yours, as your senses slowly begin to come back to you. But you're secretly glad that his hands don't leave you as he uses the pad of his thumb to stroke your cheek, your lips, your cheekbone, anywhere he has a chance to touch you, as long as he doesn't take his hand away from your face.

"Only you saw me in my fragile form. Only you saw my shattered heart and the shell of myself. I... only allow myself to be vulnerable with you." he whispers with his eyes closed, keeping his forehead pressed against yours, trying his best to hold on to you as if you were his only anchor.

"Being sad, mad, or vulnerable doesn't mean being weak. Don't be ashamed of having emotions. I... all I ever wanted... was for you to... to be something more than all of these people in the Capitol. To be someone more than what Dr. Gaul tried to mould you into. You are a good man, Coryo. Please show me that you can still be that man. That my friend and lover is still there."

You don't talk to each other anymore after that. You don't know whether he has heard your request or is even considering granting it. All you know is that you lost that night. That the rational part of you had gone to fuck itself, seeing him so vulnerable and hurt, just as you were.

So, when he tries to break away from you and walk away, you grab his wrist tightly, stopping him.

"Stay. Don't go." you whisper. You don't know if it's a request or an order. He doesn't think twice about it either, turning back to you after a moment and pulling you into his chest as he holds you tightly in his arms and buries his face in your hair.

And he stays. You manage to get him to take a hot shower and some medicine in case he catches a cold.

This night, you fell asleep in each other's arms. Every now and then you stop stroking his hair, his back, and drawing patterns on his chest to use the pad of your thumb to gently wipe away the tears that sometimes fall from his gorgeous blue eyes.

And in the morning, when all that remains from him is a scent of him, of his cologne, and a dent on the pillow, you can't help but feel disappointed and silently hope that maybe your Coryo is still alive.

You haven't had a chance to be alone with him since then. You both are too busy running your campaign and the ongoing rivalry between you two.

However, you notice that he has stopped sending gifts, late-night phone calls, or other ways of getting your attention. Whatever relationship you had was purely political. You didn't know whether to be happy or cry.

Tigris stopped talking about him. You don't know if it's a good change, but she doesn't mention her cousin anymore. She was quieter after her grandmother died. The black clung to her wardrobe and skin, highlighting her paler than usual complexion.

It was the evening they were supposed to announce the election results.

You took the elevator to the top floor of the Snow apartment, picking up Tigris and Clem on the way and heading to your house to either celebrate your success or failure.

You sigh tiredly, leaning against the elevator behind you. You close your eyes and listen as it moves up to the next floor.

You open your eyes when you hear a soft, buzzing sound. Things have changed a bit since you were last here. The interior was, of course, renovated and more elegant, but somehow... more emptier.

You try to shake off the feeling as you go further.

"Tigris?! I'm here!" you shout as you enter the living room.

You look around curiously, waiting for the blonde. You walk over to the bookshelf, looking through its contents. You choose one of the books and sit on the couch, but before you open it, you notice a framed photo on the coffee table.

You take the frame in your hands and look at an old photo of you and Coryo at the end of one year at the Academy. You cup your hand around his cheek, pulling him closer to you as you press a kiss on his cheek.

You smile as you remember the circumstances of taking this photo.

Sejanus found an old camera among his father's belongings. He insisted on taking photos to celebrate the end of a difficult year of study for all of you. You didn't know that Sejan developed the photos and gave them to Coriolanus.

And you certainly didn't expect him to keep them.

“I'm afraid Tigris is not here.” you place the photo on the coffee table and slowly turn towards Coriolanus. His hair is not combed with gel; it is slightly messy, and he has those adorable, damn curls on his head again. "She left a few minutes ago. You must have passed each other."

"Oh. She probably went to Clem's." you say, standing there slightly awkwardly and looking at him. He's wearing a black shirt and pants. Slightly wrinkled for your taste and definitely too wrinkled for his. "Are you alone?" you ask, unable to stop yourself.

"I am." he says, putting his hands in his pockets, walking around the couch so that he's now standing next to you, and picking up the book you were planning to read before Tigris came downstairs. "I guess your Thomas is waiting for you at your home."

"We... kind of broke up. Well, we weren't together, but… our paths diverged." you admit, taking the opportunity to have his back turned to you as he walked over to put the book back on the shelf. You can see his shoulders tense slightly. You've never wanted to run your hands down his muscular back more.

"What a pity. Right when I remembered his name…" he murmured. You take a few steps towards him, the click of your high heels echoing throughout the empty apartment.

"You always knew it, you were just too offended and angry to use it." he chuckles at your words and turns to face you, leaning his back gently against the bookshelf.

"Maybe." he hums, nodding his head, his eyes studying you intently.

"Maybe." you repeat after him, warmth rising in your chest as you see a stray strand of his hair fall onto his forehead.

"You should go back. I believe they will announce the results soon." he moves past you to grab the photo from the coffee table and places it on the chest of drawers next to the chair next to the bookcase. In the meantime, he turned on the TV, and he was right—they were going to report the results soon.

"What will you do if… you don't win?" you ask him, and he freezes for a moment. He sets things on the shelf, trying to arrange everything perfectly as he ponders his answer. You are getting a little nervous since you can't see his eyes or facial expression.

"I'll think of something for myself. Don't be happy. You won't be able to dance over my grave for a long time." you snort, shaking your head in amusement at his answer.

"I believe that in this case, it will be you who will be dancing at my funeral. And quite quickly."

"Stop it. You know damn well that I would never hurt you." he snaps at your answer as he turns to face you. You have been taken aback by his sudden reaction, but your defense system quickly kicked in.

"Sejanus..."

"I regret it every fucking day. Every day I wake up in the morning and don't see you on the other side of my bed. Every day I spend time surrounded by people I can't trust. Every day when I see Tigris' betrayed look and your disappointed, hurt gaze, it haunts my dreams as much as his screams. And maybe I'm a monster because I really don't care if he lives or dies, but I REGRET IT. Honestly. By you. Because of you. Because I lost you. I... I had lost you." he whispers the last sentence, as if it's only now dawning on him what really happened. It breaks your heart to see him like this, especially after what happened a few weeks ago.

"Coriolanus..." you say this and reach out to grab his arm, but this time he's the one pulling away from you. And the treatment you've gotten from him, just the same as you've once treated him, is tasting bitter.

"Just leave." he says, his eyes averting from you as he stares at the window overlooking the Capitol.

You walk up to him and place your hand on his shoulder. He turns his gaze away from the city in front of him and looks at you questioningly, not understanding what you are doing right now.

'Coriolanus... I..."

"And the president of Panem becomes… Y/N Y/L/N! Congratulations, Madam President!" the hosts' shouts and fanfare echo from the television, interrupting you. It takes you a while to realise what happened. Your hand falls from his shoulder as you stare dazedly at the TV behind him. You won. You became president.

Realisation hits you. You have no idea what will happen next. And... you're afraid. But not that you can't handle it. Not that you'll have a lot of new responsibilities, or even how many people you'll have to deal with from now on. NO. You are afraid that HE will never be close to you again. And the last few weeks... the last few weeks, maybe even months—had shown you that you couldn't live without him next to you anymore.

You needed Coriolanus Snow… as much as he needed you.

"Congratulations." his words snap you out of your shock and numbness. He sticks out his hand, waiting for you to take it and shake it. But you can only stand there, staring at him as you try to sort out your feelings. "You won't even shake my hand? Am I not worth even that, Madam President?"

You shake your head.

You hear him snort, laughing bitterly at your action, believing this is another example of your stubborn behaviour towards him. He drops his hand, obviously hurt, and is about to respond when you suddenly take a step towards him, cup his cheeks in your hands, and pull him in for a kiss.

He is surprised. Probably the same as you, but he gets over it rather quickly as he automatically responds to your kiss, caressing your lips with his as fervently as ever.

At some point, you end up on his couch, your hands moving from his neck to under his shirt. Your touch breaks him out of the trance you put him in. He takes your hands in his and moves them away from his body.

"I don't want your pity." he huffs, pulling away from you as he stands in front of the couch. You pull him towards you by his shirt so that he's straddling you, and you kiss him again, effectively silencing him as your hands land on the buttons of his shirt.

"You've never had it." you mumble between kisses, trailing your fingers over the bare skin and muscles of his back, and he moans softly into your neck, leaving a few hickeys there along his way to the buttoms of your own blouse. "It was always either my love or grudge."

"And now?" he asks, moving away from you again. His blue eyes stare intently into yours, and you know your answer depends on how this evening goes. And you missed the comforting feeling of his skin against yours too much to worry about his morality, of which you were apparently the sole soul that wanted and was able to take care of.

"Both of them." you reply, licking your lips. Maybe he was right from the beginning? Maybe you were destined to end up together? Maybe you were really the only thing that could keep him on the right path? But were you willing to devote your life to keeping him in check?

"I can work with that." you moan as he kisses you while lifting you off the couch. Your blouse falls somewhere on the floor as he carries you along the familiar path to his bedroom.

His lips caress yours gently like never before. His hands are practically everywhere, gently stroking every bit of your exposed skin. He pins you against his bedroom door and sucks on your neck, leaving a hickey. You moan again, causing the same reaction from him.

"Please, don't ever leave me again." he whispers into your mouth before trying to devour you again.

"Then don't give me a reason to do it." you whisper back, combing his hair as he pulls away from you enough to open the door. He kisses you all the way to his bed, stroking your waist gently.

He lays you down on the bed, his mouth moving to your neck, licking and sucking, leaving a few marks there as his hands moved down to the button of your pants.

"Wait. Wait." he listens to you immediately. He freezes, lifting his head to look at you with concern and a worried expression on his face. "You're not mad that I won?" he gives you such a beautiful smile and laugh that, for a moment, all you can do is watch him.

He was so ethereal... breathtaking in every sense of this word. You have no idea how you managed to stay away from him for that long... even knowing what he did.

"I love you. I have always loved you and always will. I'll get over the fact that you won't be my First Lady."

"Well... you can be my First Lord... or something like that..." he laughs at that and leans in to kiss you. You cup his cheeks in your hands and pull him closer to you. You moan into his mouth as his bare skin touches yours.

You whine in protest as he pulls away from you. He looks deep into your eyes and caresses your cheek tenderly with his hand.

"You sure?" you smile slightly and nod, placing your hands on his shoulders as he pulls you closer to him again. "We shall create a dynasty, my beautiful little petal." he promises you, placing soft kisses on your collarbones. You run your hands through his blond locks, pulling his head and lips to yours. "My most precious diamond." he plants another kiss, this time on the corners of your mouth, undoing your bra. "Mine."

"Coryo..." you moan, and he responds in kind, happy to finally hear his nickname falling lovingly from your lips like it used to.

You don't care what happens next. What will happen the next day? What will happen when you take over as president? Will he try to gain more influence than you? Will he continue working for Gaul? Or maybe you will unite your forces and create a presidential couple that Panem has never seen before. You do not know. All he cares about is his touch, his mouth, and his body against you.

And in the morning, when you wake up wrapped in his arms as he places kisses on your temple and tenderly, lazily draws patterns on your back with his fingers, you realise how good it was to be back where you belonged.

You realise how good it felt to wake up in your Coryo's arms again. Even if neither of you were the same person you once were. And you will certainly have more than one fight, dramatic breakup or silent fight for influence and power.

But after all, love was stronger than any grudge you could feel towards your Coryo... or at least as long as he still was him.

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dcxdpdabbles · 5 months

Text

Freelance Inventor Part 2

Dedicated to @jimmysorsprinkles Thank you for enjoying my random dabbles. I saw that you wanted more Dads, Danny/Bruce, who are unknowingly co-parenting, so here it is! (set during the first prompt through the years of Danny just being a dad whenever he's home)

"I just don't know what to do," Bruce admits, watching Dick stomp about in tiny angry circles, muttering in his native tongue under his breath. He's been out there for about a half hour, doing laps in the yard. Danny knows he deliberately chose to do so under the window leading to Bruce's office.

The kid definitely wanted his guardian to know he was mad at him .

It was the fact Dick was unconsciously hunching his shoulders, curling his fist, and even raising his knee slightly higher than he needed for his stomps that were a nod to Bruce whenever the man was upset.

It seemed like Dick had picked up habits from Bruce during his short time here. If anything, Danny thought it rather cute if it weren't for the fact Dick was so upset.

"What happened?" He asked, standing beside Bruce, overlooking the pre-teen throwing a fit.

Bruce's frown is sharp and hinted with just the edge of uncertainty that anyone who didn't know him well would have dismissed. "He was being reckless in one of our extreme sports, and when I rightfully scolded him for it, he took it as me not trusting him."

Danny tilts his head, considering. It's been over three years since he became acquainted with the Waynes, and in that time- between his travels, his inventing, and his general desire to learn all he could in any way he could- he noticed that Dick was very quick to anger as a defensive mechanism.

This clashed horribly with Bruce's own mechanism- which was shutting down or at least emotionally wise. While Dick sneered and raged against the world, Bruce tried his best to forget he was human and detached himself from the situation.

Which wouldn't be so bad if it didn't feed into Dick's insecurities or Bruce's anxiety when they both reacted to adverse situations.

He has spoken to Jazz about it, and his sister has given him some advice that has helped him smooth things over with the young boy. Empathizing and paraphrasing the boy's issues was a big step in letting him feel heard and his feelings acknowledged.

For Bruce, he treated him like a ghost who had never seen a human. Plenty of ghosts were never human, were born in the ghost zone, or had been there for so long that they had forgotten what humans were like. Danny took time to explain why someone reacted the way they did- at least, why he thought so- and never made Bruce feel less for needing the help.

It was fun, in a way, to see Bruce's eyes lighten up with understanding and get him to talk about his rooted issues, but having to do so on carefully balanced tones and word choice. Phantom had so much practice de-escalating ghosts that it was a walk in the park with Bruce.

"I'll talk to him," Danny promised, leaning over to rest his hand on Bruce's shoulder and not batting an eye when the taller man landed down to rest his forehead on Danny's shoulder.

Where Bruce couldn't say in words, he yelled in his actions. It reminded him a bit of Wulf.

Bruce took a deep breath before nodding. "Thank you."

Danny hummed, reaching up to pet Bruce's hair like he would soothe Wulf, on days the werewolf would twitch too much at the door slamming, and suddenly his friend was mentally back in Walker's prison. "No problem. But, I will also be speaking to you later, and you are going to listen to Dick's side of the story without interrupting at dinner."

"Yes, Danny"

Alfred threw him an approving smile as he marched outside to meet Dick's rage-filled eyes and nervous hand twitching. He could catch the ending bits of whatever rant the boy was muttering.

"You're right. Bruce is an idiot sometimes." He starts grinning as the boy's eyes narrow further.

"You don't speak Romani."

"I may not understand what you're saying, but trust me, I feel it." Danny chirps, watching Dick's shoulder relax a little. " What did he do this time?"

"You won't even believe it!" Dick snaps, and then he's off, Danny keeping pace with him step by step as the boy works himself into another frenzy.

Later that night, Dick explained that he hated how Bruce made him feel so belittled and unimportant, his voice tight with a itch to fight, and Bruce carefully- with significant prompting from Danny- explained how he didn't mean it that way. He was only worried that he was about to watch Dick die in front of him, and he couldn't live through losing his family again.

Dick looked shocked to be considered family, and Danny swore he helped the boy sneak into Bruce's office, which so happened to have the adoption papers Bruce was hiding. Alfred gave him a large sample of pudding for dessert.

______________________________________________

"Hey, kid," Danny whispered, watching Jason tense up momentarily. It's not overly noticeable, but Danny has grown used to seeing little ghost blobs show emotions by how they twisted and twirled over the years, so he could tell what the slight tightening of the fingers around the book meant.

Anxious.

It would be understandable if Jason had been present for another one of Dick's and Bruce's explosive arguments. He came from a household that had an older male figure beat him whenever Willis got in a mood, so while he knew that Bruce or Dick would never hit him, Jason still tried to make himself scarce.

Jazz was the one to point out Jason's usage of escapism in the form of books to comfort himself, and so Danny took whatever time he could manage to read the same books as Jason while on his travels.

"What?" The boy grunted, voice soft but weary.

Danny sits across from him, making sure to stay in Jason's eyesight at all times. He had realized in only his second visit after meeting Jason that the boy did not like having someone too close in his space.

He grew up on the streets where being weary of older men kept him alive- Danny would never fault him for what he had to do to survive.

Unlike Dick, who was always down to talk about why he was upset if only to rant, Jason preferred to have a distraction. So he offers him a smile that he hopes projects You're safe with me and pulls out a book from his bag.

Jason's eyes light up at the cover. "I had some theories on Mr. Darcy being in love with Mr.Bingley before he met Elizabeth, and Bruce won't agree with me. Help me find citations as proof?"

"It's so obvious that he was, how can the old man not see that!" Jason snorts, tilting his head in a cute habit that he picked up from Dick. He really looks up to his big brother no matter how tense things can get.

Danny is glad he's gotten Dick to explain to Jason that he didn't hate him, but he was going through a lot, and Jason as a street kid, understood on some level.

"The old just hate listening to other people's suggestions even when we're right!." Jason leans over to read the book Danny places between them, considering Jane Austin's work while Danny files away the real reason he's upset with Bruce.

Later, after Jason and he present a bemused Bruce with a report on why Mr.Darcy is bi and had feelings for his best friend before meeting his wife, he tells Bruce to explain why he didn't consider Jason's suggestion in their extreme sport.

Jason goes to bed that night with a better answer than "because I said so," and Danny forces Bruce to go up to his room and re-read Pride and Prejudice to connect with his youngest.

Alfred offers them extra blankets and pillows since the two get so caught up reading to each other that Danny just decides sleeping in Bruce's bed is easier than walking down two wings to the guest rooms.

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

"I'm not going to bed," Tim snapped when Danny knocked on his door. His fingers are flying over the keyboard of his computer, his little face glowing from the computer screen, and Danny is almost reminded of himself whenever he gets caught up in his work.

It may worry Bruce and Alfred, but Danny is a Fenton. He knows what it's like to have his brain run over time and sacrifice sleep or meals to get his ideas into the world.

His mother is the same, his father is the same, his sister is the same, and even Danny's clone is the same. It's fitting that the little boy he caught following Batmam around with a camera is the same since he all but forced Bruce to adopt him.

He hadn't meant to.

He had been testing an air purifier when he returned to Gotham since Bruce and the kids were out of state, and his ghost hearing picked up the sound of a camera click.

Imagine his surprise that when he turned to the roof opposite him, he found the tiny little face of an eleven-year-old staring back, holding a camera, and Batman swinging away in the distance. Danny became attached to Tim that night, even after he chased the boy down to ask if he was safe.

He did not like the implications of his parents always "working" while Tim ran amok in Gotham.

It took almost two weeks of following Tim around Gotham to help him with his photos before the boy allowed him to take him to Wayne Manor. It took three more before Bruce realized that Danny wouldn't allow Tim's parents to win him back, and together, they took the Drakes to court.

Danny has never been more grateful that Bruce was loaded with money and that his inventions gained him contacts in high places that wouldn't mind taking the Drakes down.

Tim was a lot like Bruce- where he shut down- but he needed people to be around him more. Sometimes just sitting in the same room- where Tim could glance up and see him- was enough for the boy to be at ease.

This was great for Bruce, who thought he didn't need to do much to make Tim happy- until Danny reminded him that Tim was a poor boy who was gutted for any form of parental approval.

He had to almost punch Bruce after overhearing him tell Tim he was proud of him, but there was room for improvement. Bruce meant it as helpful, constructive criticism, but Tim- whose parents all but drilled how useless he was- only heard criticism.

Only heard, he was not enough.

So now Tim was going, who knew how many hours without sleep, trying to fix whatever issue he thought he had caused. How a fourteen-year-old could have caused issues at his adoptive dad's multimillion-dollar company was beyond Danny, but it meant a lot to Tim, so he didn't need to understand it.

He just needed to respect it.

"Don't want you to," Danny grunts, throwing himself on Tim's queen-sized bed. "I just wanted to know if I could crash here. Bruce pissed me off."

Tim's fingers pause. "What did he do?"

"He tried to tell me how to handle my inventions' payment. I'm a freelancer! I know how to do that." Danny complains while twisting under the covers. Tim slowly turns around to look at him, but he acts like he doesn't notice. "I know he'll try to talk to me in the guest rooms, but he won't find me here. I just don't want to listen to another "I can do it better" lecture."

After a moment's pause, Tim admits. "He did the same to me and my team."

He means Cassie, Bart, and Conner. The little team of photography buddies Bruce introduced Tim back when they started homeschooling him. Dani suggested pulling Tim out of school is one of the best advice his clone ever gave him.

Tim took the pictures, Cassie and Conner modeled, and Bart made the clothes. Their work was slowly gaining traction online, and Tim seemed to glow whenever the Team was mentioned.

"Course he did." Danny sigh. He leans back into the pillow. "Know why he did it, too. Bruce doesn't want me to be taken advantage of, but it's hard not to hear him think I can't keep up, especially when my family is doing the same thing."

"Yeah," Tim's voice is soft. "It's frustrating that all your hard work is overshadowed or that everything you've done so far doesn't prove that you know you can."

Bingo. Danny discovered Tim's issue; now he just needs to bring it home.

"I know I'm great at what I do. You said so yourself- my past proves I am crazy good at work. I leave other people breathless in awe all the time. I can adapt and overcome so much faster than others. Bruce can see that, but he forgets to praise it." Danny huffs like he's trying not to be forgiving, and it causes a smile to unwillingly appear on Tim's face.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow but today I'm being petty and hiding. Thanks for letting me sleep here"

"You're welcome, Danny." Tim goes back to his typing, but only after a minute or two of Danny asking if he can turn off the light does the boy save his work and shut his computer down.

The room is plunged into darkness but Danny doesn't need the light to see how Tim sinks into his mattress. Tim is smart- crazy smart that every part of him that's Fenton crows with pride- and he can easily see through Danny.

"Thank you Danny" He doesn't say what for but he doesn't need to.

Danny reaches over, grabs the blankets, and makes sure they cover the small shoulder, tucking Tim in properly. "Any time kid"

The next morning, Bruce wakes them up with a powerpoint of all the things he thought were impressive about Tim and his team's last photo session. A powerpoint for Pete's sake.

But it makes Tim smile so much that Danny lets it slide. At least he listened when Danny chewed him out for forgetting to praise Tim.

Alfred offers Danny some of his private tea jars, which according to Dick, means Danny is in for life as Tim, Jason, and Bruce go over the PowerPoint again. Jason has begone to heal for his bitch of a mother's betrayal a few months ago.

Thankfully, Danny was in the area when he called and reminded the lady why she should not mess with Bruce's kids. Dani paying her a visit in her jail cell was just the Fentons' sending their regards.

(His dad gave Dani the ani-creep stick, and his mom hacked the cameras to loop. Jazz just watched hours of her to realize what made the woman scream and cry before sending the clone on her way. It was a good family bonding moment)

No one believed the woman claiming to be haunted that her son was Robin. Honestly, where on earth she got that idea Danny would never know.

His Jason, the sweet school-loving boy who graduated as valedictorian, running around punching criminals? Honestly, what was she going to claim next?

Bruce being Batman?!

Please.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #freelance inventor #part 2 #spirit halloween #Danny being a dad for the three first robins #Bruce not understanding emotions #And the kids not understanding their own emotions #Jazz trained her brother well #Fenton's are crazy and Super smart #They are aware of Danny's Not-Boyfriend and his kids #They love them

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thethingswedotomorrow · 6 months

Text

Crowley has been with humanity since the beginning. The original serpent of eden, he is the first "monster" in humanity's bedtime stories. He is the figurative and literal demon on human's shoulders, always there to guide them one way or another. He's weaved through history itself, and prides himself on an impeccable track record of demonic activity throughout the last 6000 years.

But, naturally, after 6000 years, Crowley finds that he's spent more time pining after a certain Angel than doing any sort of work. Like, an extreme amount of pining.

And it isn't until after the notpocalypse that Crowley realizes that, entirely accidentally and very embarrassingly, he may have accidentally made his pining very, very public.

One of Crowley's favorite ways to waste a day is to take Aziraphale to different museums around the world and watch as the angel wanders around and points out all of the inaccuracies

"Good Lord Crowley, have you seen this painting? Portraying you as a dragon is a tad dramatic, I think. All we were doing were having a picnic. And I have never had my hair looking like that, thank you."

"I don't know Angel, they've got your wings spot on. Wa-Hang on, have they added horns to my head?"

"Oh, I see, suddenly it's only inaccurate when they've got you wrong."

The museums always seem to be miraculously empty, and whenever Crowley mentions this, Aziraphale suddenly finds a new, very interesting piece of art to admire

Crowley admires the lengths Aziraphale goes to to hide the small miracles he's done for Crowley's sake

As if Crowley wouldn't move literal mountains for the angel

*He did, actually, do that once.

In the 12th century, they were having a lovely evening together with multiple caskets of wine, up until Aziraphale complained about the amount of light in his eyes

"Honestly Crowley, all this sun and no shade, it must truly be awful for the humans around here with no shelter. It's a tad much, even for me."

Crowley, even then, immediately recognized this off-hand comment as an underhanded complaint, and knew that would not stand

When the small earthquake passed, Crowley claimed that the nearby church was on a fault line and he was simply doing his demonic duty by damaging holy goods in the area

If Aziraphale realized that the mountain range in the distance suddenly provided much more sun coverage, he never mentioned it.

Currently, however, Crowley follows Aziraphale around, wandering behind him and never truly looking at the things in the museum

In every single place they've ever gone together, there was only ever one thing that deserved Crowley's attention

And it certainly was not an inaccurate model of a 18th century tea set

But when Aziraphale wanders into a hall titled 'Love of the Past', he starts to panic. Just a very tiny amount, basically none at all. A small enough amount of panic that he could deny it, even to himself.

He thinks about the past, towards the beginning, back when Humanity was still getting it's footing and figuring out how to have governments and societies and (the most important part) figuring out the whole alcohol situation

Throughout the years, especially towards the beginning, Crowley began to resent any time not spent with Aziraphale

Everything seemed small and dull when compared to the way the Angel smiled when he saw new type of human dessert, or the way he laughed when Crowley managed to work out a clever comment

And once Crowley experienced those things, he never wanted anything else

He had seen the poetry the humans had written, how much emotion they could pour into a simple piece of parchment or a clay tablet

He never cared for written word, but he was shocked at just how much feeling the humans could manage to pour into words

So after Aziraphale left Rome (after the oysters and the wine and the smiles, for somebody's sake the smiles), he went due east for a new miracle on another continent

Crowley stayed and got well and truly drunk. As he did best.

He had spent a few weeks around the other drunks around the area, most poverty stricken and saddened with some sort of grief of one type or another

It wasn't until a group of poets wandered into his dark corner of the pub that he started to considered writing

Obviously nothing anyone would ever read, he'd ensure that. Every scroll or parchment that he'd touch with a quill would be burnt with hellfire before it left his sight

But, as many of his worst ideas started, he had nothing better to do and too much time to think

So he wrote. He wrote letters, first addressed to nobody, about random thoughts that would pop into his very intoxicated brain. Whether humans would ever find traces of the unicorns they lost on the ark, whether he would ever find a way to count just how many scales he had, whether he would ever reach a point where he didn't have to cover his eyes every day

Slowly, the letters started becoming addressed to 'A'. Whether he was conscious of this or not, he'd never admit.

But he wrote. He wrote to A about Hell, the jobs they required of him, the things they'd have him do. He wrote of the way humans had beaten him to the punch 90% of the time. How they would do things worse than Satan himself could imagine, and they'd never blink an eye while doing it.

He wrote of the way the sun darkened each day that passed without his Angel, the way his wine never seemed to have enough flavor when he was alone.

He wrote of the ways he imagined he could orchestrate an elaborate reunion, a convoluted mess of too much demonic activity in a small area that just happened to have a wonderful new tea, or so he's heard, and wouldn't it be a shame to leave the town without tempting the angel to try it?

He wrote to A about how he was sure he had no heart, no emotions. He was a Demon, for somebody's sake, he certainly had no need for stupid things like that, and so the ache in his corporation's chest when he sees the Angel had to be some sort of malfunction.

Anatural function, surely, that could be fixed with the right amount of aloofness and strong liquor

He wrote of the way the sun always seemed to hit the Angel's hair just right, and Crowley had no faith, he had no God.

But in those moments, with a halo around the angel and that smile aimed towards him, he might consider praying now to a different source altogether, a closer source. One full of life and light and actual proper goodness, not that fake advertised bullshit they plaster on church walls in pretty paintings and sad songs

Crowley wrote for a long while, and found that the writing helped the pain.

Even if only because it brought on memories of Aziraphale, and that was enough to hold him until they met again. It had to be, he had no choice in the matter.

And he wrote so often throughout the ages, and often while he was drunk. And he was so sure, so positive that he had burned every trace of his heart and emotion out of existence.

He had to be. The danger those words could put Aziraphale in was far too great. He couldn't be bothered to care of the danger to himself, but the fact that the very hint of any emotion could come close to hurting his Angel was enough to ensure that they would never come across another being's eyes.

He destroyed every letter and word that described his desire, his pain, his greed. He ripped the words he created out of reality as easily as he had written them. Every time, he burnt the parchment, and every time, it burnt a part of him with it.

And then the Apocalypse had happened. Or, well, didn't happen, he supposed. Really, he wasn't entirely sure if there was a difference.

Because everything had changed, even if the rest of the world hadn't noticed. And he was suddenly allowed to see Aziraphale with no excuse, no half-hearted reasoning behind it. He was allowed to want, and to crave, and he relished it.

And he was allowed to take the angel to museums to watch him fuss over small mistakes humanity had collected throughout the ages

Until he realized that they had, in fact, also collected HIS mistakes.

In a hall. A whole bloody hall. A hall, dedicated to and full of stupid parchment and sappy letters and wine stains over words written so long ago

And honestly who gave them the right? Leave it to the humans to collect other people's belongings and put it on display as their own

And he knew, from the moment Aziraphale read the first page on display, he just knew. This was it. All of it was ruined.

All because Crowley had gotten so drunk and passed out in his room above the pub, and when they'd thrown him out in a drunken stupor, they'd collected his belongings to sell afterwards. And he'd never even realized, so concerned about the next meeting, the arrangement, concerned about anything and everything except the one thing he forgot about and could end them both.

Any moment now, Aziraphale would look up at him, with disgust and confusion and all those emotions that he'd really rather not see on his face, preferably ever, but especially not towards him.

But Aziraphale never looks up. He reads the first page 5, 6, 7 times, being sure to capture every single word. Every wrinkle in the paper, every crease.

Then he moves to the next, and then the next. He repeats this process. Every page, he scours each and every page. Searching and scanning, analyzing every word.

Crowley is frozen at the entrance of the hall, too terrifed to say a word, but too hopeful to leave. He stands there, suddenly feeling the same feeling in his chest that he felt so many years ago, in the corner of the pub, sitting in the dark, wishing for the light that he knew would never come.

He's so panicked, that he doesn't notice Aziraphale finishing the last page, and wiping the tears from his eyes. He startles when he accidentally meets his eyes, and prepares a number of excuses and deflections, all to preserve this shred of peace and safety they had carved out for themselves.

"Angel, I- you really- ngk- humans are so rid- are you hungry? I could eat, I've heard they've got a killer bar around here, and we cou-I can get us there in 10 minutes, ngk actu- scratch that, we could be there in 5, I bet. Museums aren-angel?"

Crowley finds himself stopping the random stream of words coming out of his mouth, when he notices tears in Aziraphale's eyes

"Angel, I-"

That's all Crowley can get out before Aziraphale is walking towards him with a purpose

And suddenly Aziraphale is very close to him

Very very close

And suddenly Aziraphale's lips are on his, and Aziraphale is holding onto Crowley's jacket, and Crowley's hands are just waving in the air back and forth while he processes the last .5 seconds.

By the time he realizes what is actually happening, Aziraphale pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against Crowley's, and laughs.

He laughs. Laughs. Aziraphale is laughing and it's a wonderful, beautiful noise and Crowley doesn't quite understand why, but then he's laughing too and then they are both standing there, arms around each other, laughing and Crowley realizes now that all the words he's written, all the praises he sang of his Aziraphale, the way he wished and prayed for his heart and laugh and love

Not one bit of it is at all comparable to the real thing.

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soundlessdreamss · 3 months

Note

Can I have a Lucifer vs Alastor fighting for the reader romantically, please if possible yanderes...

Lovely riddance

part two

pairings: y!alastor x reader & y!lucifer x reader

Note: reader will be a fallen angel for this! (Also this is prolly ooc)

You were a normal sinner (totally a sinner and not a fallen angel) living in hell you were in hell because of you questioning heaven which led to them throwing you down here… but you realized how different the other people in hell were compared to you. it just made you feel very weird, a total standout!

it made you miss heaven. A lot. Since you had made so many friends there and now you just lost it all. Well not all of it to be exact, your old friend Lucifer is the king of hell because he was the first one to rebel against heaven. You admired him for being so fearless against heaven themselves.

as you were in your own thoughts on the street of hell suddenly you passed by a poster that snapped you back to your senses. You suddenly scooted back to the poster and read it “want to be redeemed so you can live a gorgeous life in heaven? Well visit the hazbin hotel and let yourself be purified!” Oh my god. This could be your chance to meet other people like you! You decided to fly over there since the other angels didn’t rip off your wings when you fell down.

after like 69 minutes of flying (lol) you finally made it to the hotel! You couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious though, what would they think about you? Would they make fun of you? Would they humiliate you if you did one thing wrong- no you couldn’t let that stop you. This could be your chance to find your friends in heaven again. You knocked on the hotel door and waited for a response. It felt like it was taking forever until a blonde haired girl opened the door. (It only took 3 seconds for them to open the door but okay.)

she nearly screamed out of joy when she realized someone actually came to the hotel to be redeemed. She gave you a hug and welcomed you into the hotel where all the people there introduced themselves. There was Charlie, Vaggie, Angel dusk, Husk, Nifty, (nifty is a cutie) and a snake who you didn’t bother remembering his name cause it was too long. (Totally not an excuse to not have to write his name)

you almost choked though when Charlie said her last name was Morningstar, like Morningstar as in Lucifer Morningstar? She was his daughter?! You had no idea him and Lilith had a child but you felt happy for them. Not until she told you her mom left her 7 years ago. (Lol)

To your surprise (and relief) they accepted you and treated you nicely. And you recognized Vaggie but didn’t out her because you had a feeling that she didn’t want that to happen and you respected her.

All of a sudden a man just teleported out of the floor and tapped you on your back which made you scream so loud. He chuckled and said not to worry as it was him, the radio demon! And he also introduced himself as Alastor. He grabbed your hand and kissed it which made you a bit confused but you rolled with it. Over the couple of days you had spent there you bonded really well with all of them, but alastor specifically wanted to spend a lot of time with you.

he often invited you to brunch, dinner, and to help him work on the hotel. Had you caught his eye? Maybe… maybe you had caught his eye more than you thought you did. (He also may or may not be planning to make a deal for your soul.)

timeskip to when Charlie invited her dad over. ——————————————————————————————————————

you had all prepared for the place to look nice since the king of hell was coming to visit! Aka Charlie’s dad, and you wanted to make a good impression on him after you haven’t seen eachother for such a long time. He seemed happy that his daughter was inviting him over based on the tone of his voice when Charlie called.

You guys all got in position and Charlie was about to open the door until Lucifer barged in and greeted his daughter with a bear hug! He looked around the place awkwardly after and Charlie introduced him to everyone in the hotel. He stared at you for a couple of seconds not knowing if it was really you. He was about to speak to you until alastor teleported right next to you.

Alastor put his hand on your shoulder and had a death grip on it. Like he didn’t want Lucifer to even be near you. They both introduced themselves to each other and as they were talking about the hotel ideas, Alastor pointed out a thing you did for the hotel which helped them a lot. He brought your face to his as he put his hand around your neck pulling you closer. Your face was squished with his. He only did this though to simply piss Lucifer off and trick him into thinking that he had got to you first and that you guys have a deep connection.

as you pulled yourself away from him and looked at the two it suddenly felt as if there was an intense aura in the room all of a sudden. You laughed nervously and tried to excuse yourself before Lucifer grabbed your hand.

he was nervous and tried to compose himself to talk to you as it had been so long since you two had talked. Wtf was he even suppose to say? He decided to finally speak after an agonizing 5 seconds.

Lucifer: “oh [reader]… it’s been so long since we’ve last seen eachother! How have you been doll?”

[reader] : “oh I’ve been just fine. Well despite the fact that heaven kicked me out, it feels better here. Like I can actually breathe in this place.”

Lucifer: “good to hear. Would you mind visiting my palace sometime? Id like to show you some of my latest creations, especially one I made just for you!”

his smile became wider and his eyes seemed more sincere like he really wanted you to visit. I mean after all you guys haven’t seen eachother in eons!

before you could reply to his offer, Alastor grabbed your other hand and yanked you away as he chuckled.

Alastor: “I’m sure they would love to visit you sometime, but they’re busy with me today as I invited her to dinner and they accepted. Didn’t you dear?”

you suddenly remembered that you and Alastor were gonna go out for dinner tonight and you nodded your head.

[reader] : oh that’s actually right! I totally forgot about that for a minute. Well Lucifer would you like me to visit anytime I’m free if that’s okay?

Lucifer: oh, that’s just fine! Just try to make it soon cause I can not wait to spend time with you again!

his smile faded a bit and he seemed to give a glare to Alastor. In response Alastor simply had a wide smile as he continued to hold your hand after yanking away Lucifer’s.

After the argument with Lucifer and Alastor over Charlie was done.

───────────────────────

Finally everyone calmed down after they argued over who Charlie preferred as a dad. Thank god Mimzy barged through the door before another fight broke loose. After a couple minutes Alastor decided to tell everyone you and him would be leaving for dinner about now, you thought it was later but alright!

as you guys left through the door to go to your favorite restaurant, Alastor couldn’t help but giggle feeling Lucifer’s eyes burning a hole through him. He knew it pissed him off and he was glad that it did. And little did you or Lucifer know the Alastor was making more and more progress to his plan. His plan was to woo you enough so that you’d made a deal with him for your soul.

of course you’d get benefits aswell! Alastor would be at your every beck and call and you would do the same for him. It would just be a matter of time before he proposed the idea to you. He just hopes a certain someone wouldn’t mess it up.

part two coming soon…

note: hiii to everyone who read this, I’d like to thank you all for all the likes on my previous two posts! I’m going to be working on part two sooner or later. Also sorry is this is a bit ooc, I’m new to writing fanfics and tried to make alastor manipulative like he is in the show. :)

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel

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lackadaisycats · 2 months

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Hey Tracy! Have you heard about the new Ai called Sora? Apparently it can now create 2D and 3D animations as well as hyper realistic videos. I’ve been getting into animation and trying to improve my art for years since I was 7, but now seeing that anyone can create animation/works in just a mare seconds by typing in a couple words, it’s such a huge slap in the face to people who actually put the time and effort into their works and it’s so discouraging! And it has me worried about what’s going to happen next for artists and many others, as-well. There’s already generated voices, generated works stolen from actual artists, generated music, and now this! It’s just so scary that it’s coming this far.

Yeah, I've seen it. And yeah, it feels like the universe has taken on a 'fuck you in particular' attitude toward artists the past few years. A lot of damage has already been done, and there are plenty of reasons for concern, but bear in mind that we don't know how this will play out yet. Be astute, be justifiably angry, but don't let despair take over. --------

One would expect that the promo clips that have been dropping lately represent some of the best of the best-looking stuff they've been able to produce. And it's only good-looking on an extremely superficial level. It's still riddled with problems if you spend even a moment observing. And I rather suspect, prior to a whole lot of frustrated iteration, most prompts are still going to get you camera-sickness inducing, wibbly-wobbly nonsense with a side of body horror.

Will the tech ultimately get 'smarter' than that and address the array of typical AI giveaways? Maybe. Probably, even. Does that mean it'll be viable in quite the way it's being marketed, more or less as a human-replacer? Well…

A lot of this is hype, and hype is meant to drive up the perceived value of the tech. Executives will rush to be early adopters without a lot of due diligence or forethought because grabbing it first like a dazzled chimp and holding up like a prize ape-rock makes them look like bleeding-edge tech geniuses in their particular ecosystem. They do this because, in turn, that perceived value may make their company profile and valuations go up too, which makes shareholders short-term happy (the only kind of happy they know). The problem is how much actual functional value will it have? And how long does it last? Much of it is the same routine we were seeing with blockchain a few years ago: number go up. Number go up always! Unrealistic, unsustainable forever-growth must be guaranteed in this economic clime. If you can lay off all of your people and replace them with AI, number goes up big and never stops, right?

I have some doubts. ----------------------

The chips also haven't landed yet with regards to the legality of all of this. Will these adopters ultimately be able to copyright any of this output trained on datasets comprised of stolen work? Can computer-made art even be copyrighted at all? How much of a human touch will be required to make something copyright-able? I don't know yet. Neither do the hype team or the early adopters.

Does that mean the tech will be used but will have to be retrained on the adopter's proprietary data? Yeah, maybe. That'd be a somewhat better outcome, at least. It still means human artists make specific things for the machine to learn from. (Watch out for businesses that use 'ethical' as a buzzword to gloss over how many people they've let go from their jobs, though.)

Will it become industry standard practice to do things this way? Maybe. Will it still require an artist's sensbilities and oversignt to plan and curate and fix the results so that it doesn't come across like pure AI trash? Yeah, I think that's pretty likely.

If it becomes standard practice, will it become samey, and self-referential and ultimately an emblem of doing things the cookie-cutter way instead of enlisting real, human artists? Quite possibly.

If it becomes standard industry practice, will there still be an audience or a demand or a desire for art made by human artists? Yes, almost certainly. With every leap of technology, that has remained the case. ------------------ TL;DR Version:

I'm not saying with any certainty that this AI blitz is a passing fad. I think we're likely to experience a torrential amount of generative art, video, voice, music, programming, and text in the coming years, in fact, and it will probably irrevocably change the layout of the career terrain. But I wouldn't be surprised if it was being overhyped as a business strategy right now. And I don't think the immensity of its volume will ever overcome its inherent emptiness.

What I am certain of is that it will not eliminate the innate human impulse to create. Nor the desire to experience art made by a fellow soul. Keep doing your thing, Anon. It's precious. It's authentic. It will be all the more special because it will have come from you, a human.

#art #lackadaisy #technology

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pickingupmymercedes · 2 months

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Lewis Hamilton - NSFW Alphabet

a/n: It's a NSFW Alphabet, you guys know the drill. Haven't really seen these around for a while, and that photo with the body hair got me in a mood.

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Clingy. He needs to feel your touch somewhere and needs to have his hands on you. He particularly likes when you run your fingers through his hair, soothing any bad thought away. He may put on a tough façade for the world but when he lowers his walls, he loves the reassurance of your skin on his.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He takes great pride in his arms and shoulders, they’re not the biggest because of f1, but they do a great part of his job. Also, they hold you and everyone he loves close.

On you he loves your collarbones, it’s the first place he goes in any given circumstance. It’s where he feels your perfume when you’re fresh out of the shower, your smell when he’s holding you close while thrusting up at your most intimate place, where he buries his face when he needs to hide from the world and where he leaves his mark for the same world to see.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically…)

Before being officially and seriously a couple, he would finish in the condom, the moment you were his though, marking you was a thought that drove him wild. Since that first time going raw there was no turning back, he needed to feel and fill you every time since.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

You and him sneaked out, while still being “only friends”, during an end of year party in Brackley. You had had a bit too much to drink and so had him, you stumbled out to the third floor for a breather, after being surrounded by his perfume all night long, and he followed you like a lost puppy, too scared that if he let you out of his sight you’d run and never come back. It was messy and led to radio silence from both of you for weeks, but the sexual tension only grew after that.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He sure as hell knows what he’s doing. He likes when you’re curious about his experience too, and is always up to let you experience and try new things as a couple.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying.)

Cowgirl, he likes to pretend to be the one in charge but in the privacy of the bed he you’re the boss, plus he gets to watch you and the pleasure he gives you. He’ll flip you if you get too fucked out to ride him all the way, but you’re usually on top.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Depends on the mood. In the morning it’s usually lighthearted, lazy and sloppy, giggles thrown in the air left and right. Nights tend to be a bit more serious, locked stares, purposeful movements and overall, nastier.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Extremely well taken care of. Not all bare though, you both like a bit of something there, but groomed and tidy for sure.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He’s a thoughtful guy, and you can’t help but imagine even with the hock ups he was probably like that too.

But something changes for him when you two finally commit. From that moment, his favorite part wasn’t the sex but how close you felt to him, how vulnerable you let yourself be around him, how in those moments your world and his are nothing but each other.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He’ll take matter into his own hands (literally) if needed, but he’ll much rather wait for you.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Praise was one you found out pretty early on, but the main one was breeding, and God did it drive you two into the most unexpected situations.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Ideally somewhere you can both take your time, before, during and after. But he’s an adrenaline junkie, and adventurous locations would spark something and things would happen in a rooftop, driver’s room, secluded parking lot, desert beach.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Honestly, not much was needed to get him uncomfortable in his pants, a look you gave him from behind his computer and he was done with whatever work he had to get done. But what truly drove him wild was seeing you smirk at him as you did the most mundane of chores knowing he would get riddle up.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Cause pain if it’s not closely interlinked with pleasure.

Withholding your orgasm so you when you cum it’s a star-seeing, numbing-body one is a big yes. But using you so he gets his release after a frustrating situation but not getting you there in the end is a huge No for him.

He cares too much about your wellbeing to get his needs met if it does nothing for you.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

His thing is going down on you, and he certainly has the skill to match his preferences, but you can’t resist his bulge and how the weight feels wrapped around your hands. He wasn’t too keen on having someone give him head just for the fun of it, but eventually you got him there, even if he won’t admit you can have him quite literally wrapped around your fingers.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and deep is his thing, each thrust sends a message and it’s intoxicating how easily he claims your body.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Doesn’t care too much for them in a daily basis, and would much rather take your time, but racing weekends are busy and sometimes things have to be taken care of in less than 10 minutes, in a dark corridor somewhere.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’s down to try anything you suggest and eventually suggests a few things latter in the relationship as well, when he feels you’re comfortable about his past experiences.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He can go for as long as you want him to go and a bit more. His pace also helps him last longer, and although the same probably can’t be said for you, he likes to take it as a challenge to see how many times, for how long and with how much effort he can get you to cum.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t mind new friends, but they’re not frequent and he prides himself that your best times were only using his fingers, tongue and dick.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves it, but you’re impatient so it usually doesn’t last too long, just enough to get you riddled and panting.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Lewis could never be loud, but jesus is he vocal. The dirty talking in your ears is through the roof. But your favorite are his grunts, he gets so tunnel focused with his thrusts his mouth always falls open and he lets out the most guttural ones, them alone kept you panting.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

It was risky, so incredibly risky and stupid from both of you to be in that badly lit corridor, hands all over each other, breathless and rushed kisses all over your skins.

The season had started on a bad foot and for the past 2 races everyone had been working the extra night hours trying to get something out of the car. Lewis had just gotten out of a debrief while you were using his side of the garage as a backdrop for a meeting. He walked right in front of your laptop and stared at you for a while before walking out into the pitlane, taking a second lingering look, left eyebrow raised, tongue slightly brushing the corner of his lips.

You were looking for him as soon as you could get away with the excuse of poor internet, going about the pitlane and taking a moment to actually appreciate the warm Australian weather.

As you looked and tried to find something in the darkness you felt strong arms wrapping you from behind, and kisses in your shoulders that left you highly aware you were in public.

“Someone could see us Lew” you whispered, turning in his embrace to lace your fingers behind his neck. “You look so damn hot when you boss those guys around” he muttered into your collarbone, after unbuttoning the first couple buttons on your blouse, leaving kisses all over your chest.

“Let’s just find somewhere better hidden then” you offered, hands already under his shirt, feeling the heat and firmness of his muscles. “Already did” he said while easily picking a giggling version of you up and kissing your lips to shush you.

The dark alley-type corridor was but a dead space in between fia’s garage and where the safety cars were, no lights there and the only speck of glow coming from two garages away. He sat you down somewhere soft, never once leaving your neck while one hand groped your bra covered breasts and the other held you close by your waist.

Through the fabric in his briefs, you felt his bulge in your tummy when he positioned his body in between your spread legs. A low and husky “we can’t make a sound babe” in your ear before he bucked your hips upwards and pushed your pants down just beneath your knees, pooling his own underwear at his feet with his jeans.

You took his already rock-hard length in hand and used your thumb to get the precum from his tip to the rest of the sensitive head. His grunts filling the now muffed air and you couldn’t help but sneer a “shush there, big guy” while smirking at his pleasure-contorted face. You gave it a few pumps, trying your everything not to give in and show him who’s boss, you had no time to prolong any foreplay, your own desire well visible in your soaked cunt.

He pulled you in for a sloppy kiss, biting on your lower lip, trying to distract you with the sharp pain in your month from the stretch his member was giving your core while he slowly thrusted into you, picking up speed as your walls adjusted to his girth, the sound of skin on skin joining the sounds you both tried to keep low.

The scene was truly obscene if anyone found you two. Your hair wild in a makeshift bun he had mustered, seated in a wobbly stack of tires as his hips thrusted forward and you held onto him by his biceps and his butt. He tried muffling his grunts in the soft skin of your exposed collarbone and the faster his movements got the more certain you were he was leaving a mark there.

You knew he was close when his thrusts got deeper, lowly growling “cum for me” in his ears and instantly feeling his hand in between your bodies until his fingers circled your clit. It only took a few seconds for the already present knot in your lower stomach to snap with the added stimulation, and the aftershocks in your inner walls squeezed his own orgasm, his last thrusts making sure his seed was deep inside you.

You embraced his neck and lied your head on his shoulders to catch your breath and stop the world from spinning, his hands caressing your tights and waist. You only moved when you felt him soften inside you, his features contorting at the sensitiveness of his member as he pulled out, his hands always finding your body, even while you both dressed back up.

As you both sneaked around the garages back to hospitality you heard two Williams crew members loudly talking to each other.

“Can you believe those new Fia interns? They can’t keep their hands off of each other, but getting it on in the garage is a new level of stupid, I’m pretty sure we weren’t the only ones to hear them”.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

We have all seen it through his pants that he is big. The first time you held it in your hand (and mouth) you questioned how on earth it would fit, but the moment you felt his girth in you it was game over for anyone else.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

High. He keep things civil when other people are around, but the moment you’re alone it gets hot and heavy pretty quick. He’s intense in all matters of life, and with you it wouldn’t be any different.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It’s the one thing that for sure knocks him out, even when the stress is sky rocketing. As soon as you’re both comfortably tangled in each other and he feels you relax he’s out. He had a no sex on run night’s policy, but agreed it made no sense with how well he slept after with you in his arms.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton smut #f1 x reader #f1 smut

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 4 months

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doctor who but i've never watched it

and so it begins again. the people asked for it. the people got it. i will ensure the people regret it.

i have never watched this show, or seen an edit, but i am a thorough researcher and i feel that i've got the essence of it.

this is what i have gathered. academicians worldwide take note.

Firstly, so I don't anger anyone, I accept and acknowledge that the tardis is blue and not yellow. My misinformation was from a Drarry fanfiction, and I had hitherto regarded Drarry fanfiction as the absolute truth.

There are doctors, and there are at least fifteen of them. At least two of them are David Tennant, which I can respect.

I'm not sure why the doctors are doctors, because I can find no trace of any medical procedure except for one doctor who licks things, which he learned from the previous doctor. If this is sufficient reason, I apologise for doubting their credentials.

On the other hand, if they are doctors thanks to a postdoctoral degree, this is also fine, though I have never seen anyone study anything. There is however a doctor, and there were people upset about her, but the fandom pointed out she set the tardis on fire, which is apparently a very doctor thing to do. Setting things on fire is absolutely something any research scholar would love, so again, apologies for doubting their credentials.

At least one doctor is gay. It is probably one of the David doctors, which checks out. He says someone, I think a dentist, is hot. I envy the maybe-dentist.

A t least one doctor is trans. I was unable to find them. But they exist. Oh yes, the fandom assures me they exist.

David Tennant as well as Ncuti Gatwa were fanboys, first of the show, and second of David Tennant, and thus they got into acting. Just a fun tidbit from me, since I am now the authority on this fandom.

There are time machines with which the doctors have sex by piloting them, which is questionable because the time machines are only partially sentient. I am not sure if the time machines are the tardis. But the tardis is blue, and not yellow, of that I am certain.

There was a stage play. Or maybe that was a metaphor for the production budget of the early seasons. I am not sure, but toddler David Tennant watched it. I assume no one took a 3 year old to a stage play, so through scientific deduction, it must have been a metaphor.

At some point, Death is an agony aunt and they have to spill secrets to it, or drown in a lake of human skulls. Who is this they? It's so obvious that the fandom sees no need to explain it, and neither do I. I do know it though. Of that you may remain certain.

A David doctor has a niece and she likes being his niece.

A David doctor has a best friend named Donna. He kisses her head. She supports his fruitiness. It is wholesome. It killed him when he lost her.

Slight tangent, but younger David doctor looks like Andrew Garfield. Current David in photos does give Ben Barnes energy. Any Wolfstar shippers, I believe you've found the Wolfstar kid. It is David Tennant.

A lot of people are David Tennant. A reliable Pinterest post on Doctor Who, clearly well researched, gave me the statistic that 15% of Doctor Who is David Tennant. From the amount of David Tennant that I ran across in my research, I don't understand it but I don't doubt it, either.

Speaking of Andrew Garfield, he in involved in this somehow. I am not sure how, but you cannot escape Andrew Garfield. He is even a part of fandoms he never acted in.

There is an individual named Catherine, I think she is the actress, but she could be a character. She seems to have much less knowledge about Doctor Who lore than I do. David Tennant finds it funny. Maybe he would find me funny, too.

The doctors installed some things in the tardis, from a wheelchair ramp to a jukebox. I don't know why a jukebox was needed. If I'm honest I don't know what a jukebox is. I don't know what the tardis is. But it is blue, and not yellow.

There is a French catchphrase.

Something happens in Wales. I don't know what it is, but something always seems to be happening in Wales in these fandoms, so I don't doubt it.

There is an old Doctor Who in a wheelchair, and he is happy to see a David doctor.

They go around in space, and do things. Who is this they? You and I both know the answer, so we needn't talk about it.

The show intro is "doo wee doo".

There is an alien who is not a mouse, the alien is The Meep, and uses the definite article as pronouns. David doctor is supportive of this, which is very good.

I found baby Yoda in the show, but apparently they call it a 'goblin' there, and someone doesn't like it.

There is a lot to do with time. There is a time hole, and things happen, and people die and are resurrected. There is danger, but it is fun.

They have CGI, and it is not good, which is the best thing about it. Who is they? Please stop asking me. It is rather obvious and something I definitely know.

Someone's boyfriend dies and the boyfriend is then resurrected but then gets lost with his boyfriend but then is reincarnated as a girl who would still call herself the someone's boyfriend but then she is replaced by the boyfriend but he's different now. I apologise for any errors that have crept it, but the tardis is blue and not yellow.

Someone named Martha is a doctor, and someone is very proud of her for it.

The eleventh and twelfth doctors like bow ties.

David Tennant wants to be ginger. David Tennant always gets what he wants. Who can refuse David Tennant? David Tennant is then ginger.

A David doctor gets a happy ending.

Someone yelled at Neil Gaiman about this. It was a mistake. He said that since it had already been done, he wouldn't want to give David's character a happy ending in S3, that would be a trifle unoriginal.

A lesson to be learned, Good Omens fandom, just a bit of advice from your son, do not yell at Neil Gaiman, it does not go well. Rumour has it he murdered the people who complained about him always wearing black. Of course, there is the fact that he doesn't exist, but that doesn't seem to have stopped him.

The doctors manifest in the previous doctor's clothes, which is apparently so last season. The tardis also manifests. I don't know where, or how. But it is blue, and not yellow.

I know, there was a lot of lore, so many of you thought I wouldn't be able to gather it all. But look how much research I did! I've got it better than maybe-actress-maybe-character Catherine, I'm sure :"]

Anyway, all the major plot points are covered above, so anyone who hasn't watched Doctor Who, feel free to refer to this and impress your Whovian friends with your knowledge! [not to be judgemental, but what a dreadfully Dr Seuss name, I rather like it]

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reasonsforhope · 4 months

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"Discarded shells from restaurants and hotels are being used to restore damaged oyster ecosystems, promote biodiversity and lower pollution in the city’s bays...

Nestled in between the South China Sea and the Pearl River Delta, Hong Kong has been seen historically as an oyster hotspot. “They have been supporting our livelihood since ancient times,” says Anniqa Law Chung-kiu, a project manager at the Nature Conservancy (TNC) in Hong Kong. “Both oysters and their shells are treasures to humans.”

Over the past five decades, however, the city’s sprawling urban development, water pollution, as well as the over-harvesting and frequent seafloor dredging by the lime industry – which uses the crushed shells to make construction material – have destroyed Hong Kong’s oyster habitats and made the waters less hospitable for biodiversity.

The more oyster colonies falter, the worse the problem gets: oysters are filter feeders and purify water by gobbling up impurities. Just one Hong Kong oyster can filter up to 200 litres of water a day, more than any other known oyster species. But decades of rapid industrialisation have largely halted their water-purifying services.

The depletion of Hong Kong’s natural oyster reefs also affects the ability of local farmers to sustainably cultivate their oysters in a healthy environment, denting the reputation of the city’s 700-year oyster farming tradition, designated by Unesco as an “intangible cultural heritage”.

Inhabitants of the coast feel abandoned, says Ken Cheng Wai-kwan, the community leader of Ha Pak Nai on Hong Kong’s Deep Bay, facing the commercial city of Shenzhen in China. “This place is forgotten,” Cheng says. “Oysters have been rooted here for over 400 years. I ask the question: do we want to lose it, or not?”

A group of activists and scientists are taking up the challenge by collecting discarded oyster shells and recycling them to rebuild some of the reefs that have been destroyed and forgotten in the hope the oysters may make a comeback. They’ve selected locations around the island where data they’ve collected suggests ecosystems still have the potential to be rebooted, and there are still enough oyster larvae to recolonise and repopulate reefs. Ideally, this will have a positive effect on local biodiversity as a whole, and farming communities.

Farmers from Ha Pak Nai were among the first to hand over their discarded shells to the TNC team for recycling. Law’s team works with eight oyster farmers from Deep Bay to recycle up to 10 tonnes of shells every year [over 22,000 pounds]. They collect an average of 870kg every week [over 1,900 pounds] from 12 hotels, supermarkets, clubhouses and seafood restaurants in the city, including some of its most fashionable establishments. About 80 tonnes of shells [over 176,000 pounds] have been recycled since the project began in 2020.

Restaurants will soon be further incentivised to recycle the shells when Hong Kong introduces a new fee for waste removal – something that is routine in many countries, but only became law in Hong Kong in July and remains controversial...

Preliminary data shows some of the restored reefs have started to increase the levels of biodiversity, but more research is needed to determine to what extent they are contributing to the filtering of the water, says Law.

Scientists from the City University of Hong Kong are also looking to use oyster shells to increase biodiversity on the city’s concrete seawalls. They hope to provide tiny, wet shelter spots around the seawall in which organisms can find refuge during low tide.

“It’s a form of soft engineering, like a nature-based solution,” says Charlene Lai, a research assistant on the team."

-via The Guardian, December 22, 2023

#oyster #oyster farming #sea shells #seafood #hong kong #ecosystem restoration #biodiversity #ecosystem #water pollution #clean water #cultural heritage #marine life #marine animals #marine science #good news #hope

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fyorina · 2 months

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ᡣ𐭩 YOU AND ME (ALWAYS FOREVER)!

FEATURING: dark era!dazai osamu

SUMMARY: more than friends, not quite lovers. that's been your relationship with dazai osamu for as long as you can remember. you didn't want to push him, and you gave him plenty of chances, but there's only so long you can wait for someone. you thought you would be better off moving on—you were wrong, of course. (wordcount: 4.8k; sfw; angst (???) but with a happy ending)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: dark era dazai </3 my heart, i got a sudden urge to write for him and i wanted it to be fluff but then i got this idea and just had to go with it (warnings: fem!reader, smoking & drinking, suicide attempt mentions)

In your defense, you were never dating Dazai Osamu.

Not for a lack of trying on your part, of course. You’ve made your interest in him clear since you met him at sixteen during the Dragon’s Head Conflict, when Mori Ougai pulled you back from where you were stationed in Kyoto dealing with his associates to help with the declining situation in Yokohama. And you’d thought he felt similarly to you. You really did. The two of you had become inseparable within weeks of knowing each other, such a swift and strong connection that it almost felt unreal. You’d heard rumors of him, of course, before coming back to Yokohama—the infamous Demon Prodigy that Mori had brought in and groomed into becoming his heir, ruthless and cold and so terrifyingly intelligent that he had the entire upper echelon of the Port Mafia on edge.

By the time you got back to Yokohama, he’d already taken the Colonel’s place as an executive—a shame, really, the Colonel was always your favorite of Mori’s five executives, he always brought you gifts when he came to visit you in Kyoto. But he never really felt like the monster that everyone claimed him to be.

He and Nakahara Chuuya had been the one sent to retrieve you from Yokohama Station, an area very close to the heart of the gang conflict, and even from the first meeting, he’d always been… well, you’re not going to say normal because he’s not normal. He’s always had an unnerving air about him, eyes a bit too cold and dark, smile a bit too teethy, but he’s always come across as just another kid your age. Maybe a bit lonelier than most, which could be off-putting to other people, but it never bothered you. And yes, you’ve seen the way other members of the Mafia treat him—they’re scared of him, go to extreme lengths so as to not cross paths with him, but you’ve never seen him in the same light they do.

Well, not until recently, at least.

Again. In your defense, you were never dating him.

But you’d known he cared about you as more than a friend. And you’d cared about him as more than a friend too. And you waited. You waited almost two years for him to say something. You didn’t want to do it yourself, you know Dazai is flighty and he’s not used to emotions, and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but god, there’s only so much waiting you can take before you start to give up.

When the two year mark hit, you’d become convinced that Dazai was never going to act on his feelings for you; instead, he’d prefer to wait it out until they passed, and if they never did, he’d just pretend they didn’t exist at all. You can’t really blame him, the Mafia is not a place conducive for relationships, it’s only a matter of time before your luck runs out and one of you end up dead by a bullet through the head or captured by the enemy, and the thought of getting attached to someone only to lose them is enough to scare anyone away.

But you don’t want to live your life in fear, no matter how short it may be, and you also don’t want to live it alone. So when an opportunity arose at a cafe near the main headquarters, where you met a civilian around your age who showed immediate interest in you, you jumped on it. And it’d caught a lot of people off guard—Kouyou was surprised, Chuuya was baffled and questioning what a civilian could possibly have that interested you, even Mori gave you a double take and an odd look the first time he overheard Elise interrogating you about your new boyfriend.

But no one took it as poorly as Dazai.

Your throat feels tight as you remember the hurt expression that crossed over his face when you told him. It was so brief and so foreign of an expression to see on his face that you’d thought you’d imagined it, he was quick to school his expression back into a cold and closed-off one (one that he’d never directed toward you before that moment), but there was no mistaking the way the corner of his lip twitched and the way he suddenly couldn’t meet your eyes.

How nice, he’d told you, voice frighteningly icy, acidic, even, before he made a half-assed excuse about a mission that you knew he wasn’t assigned to. And it was so unlike him to offer himself up to handle missions, usually Mori has to force him with threats of giving Chuuya his executive position for him to do anything that makes him extend the barest amount of effort . But he did, and he handled it, very bloodily and uncharacteristically inefficient, as if he was releasing all of his pent up rage onto the unfortunate souls who happened to stumble into Port Mafia territory.

You were never, at any point, dating Dazai Osamu.

You think you’ve told yourself it hundreds of times over the past three months, throwing yourself into your work and enjoying a relationship with a boy who clearly was invested in you and cares about you in a way that Dazai Osamu would never allow himself to admit. You also think that Dazai Osamu has no right being as bitter and angry as he is—you gave him two years to come to terms with his feelings and make a move, you’ve made your own subtle hints that he promptly ignored. If he wanted to be with you, he blew his chance a hundredfold, and he can go screw off if he thinks he can be upset about it only after you’d found someone else.

Which is what he did, pretty much, and it was a lot harder than you expected—going from talking to him every waking second of every day, seeking him out whenever you have free time and vice versa, to only seeing him during the joint meetings between the executives and sub executives, where even then, he wouldn’t even spare you a glance. It was hard, and deep down, you don’t think being able to experience an actual relationship was worth losing your best friend, but the damage had already been done by that point, so you could only lie in the bed you made.

And you did enjoy the relationship. The boy you’d met was sweet. He was good. He was impressively smart—a government and law major at one of the most prestigious universities in this part of the country—and humble to a fault.

But he wasn’t Dazai.

You knew in your heart that you didn’t want sweet or good, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise. You didn’t want the type of smart that he was, top of his class and on track for law school, seeking out a job as a public defender in Tokyo. You wanted the type of smart Dazai was, wicked and devious, putting together vicious and efficient strategies to take down enemies of the Mafia, on track for taking over the position as boss in the future. You wanted him for all of his twisted moralities and questionable thoughts.

And it was unfair to you, and it was unfair to Dazai, and most importantly it was unfair to the boy you kept leading on, that you’ve refused to acknowledge this for as long as you have just for the chance of experiencing a real relationship.

Which is why you stand here now, outside the infamous Bar Lupin that you know Dazai has been drinking himself into oblivion at everyday for the past three months, notably single and possibly about to meet your end at the hands of a drunken and scorned Mafia executive.

You think you must look like a fool right now. You’ve been standing right outside the door in the rain for fifteen minutes debating on whether or not you should actually go in. You’re nervous, and that makes you sad because you’ve never been nervous to talk to Dazai before, and you’re not nervous because you’re scared of him, you’re nervous because you don’t think you have the balls to actually confront him, knowing that you’d genuinely hurt the boy that everyone claimed didn’t have the emotions to be hurt. He let you in when he doesn’t let anyone in, and you chose to be careless and you chose to give up, and you hurt him.

And you remind yourself again: you were not dating Dazai Osamu. You remind yourself that you gave him chances, he had opportunities, and he chose not to take them. You remind yourself that he’s just as at fault as you are for the falling out, but you can’t help but also remind yourself that he was the one that came out the most hurt by the situation. Yes, him cutting himself off from you was upsetting, but you didn’t have to watch him go around happy in a relationship with someone else. He did.

With that thought in mind, you push the door open to the bar. A soft bell rings above you and instantly, three heads swivel in your direction: the bartender, and two men that you recognize as Sakaguchi Ango, one of the Port Mafia’s special intelligence agents, and Oda Sakunosuke, who you only know through Dazai’s high praise of the man from when the two of you were still on speaking terms. The only person in the room who matters to you doesn’t even bother to look to see who entered the bar, one hand circling the glass of whiskey in front of him while a cigarette dangles from the other. You watch as he lifts it to his lips to take a long drag, head falling tilting back to look up at the ceiling as he exhales a cloud of smoke, seemingly unbothered by your presence.

Already, you feel as if you’ve made a mistake, but you force yourself to continue.

The bartender nods his head in respect to you, although you can’t help but notice he flashes a wary look to Dazai. You wonder, pitifully, how much he’s said about you in this place. Sakaguchi and Oda share a look with one another. Both of them speak a low murmur of your name, inclining their head dutifully—you’re not quite an executive yet, but with the Piano Man of the Flags dead, you and Chuuya are fighting for the next spot to open up. Chuuya will likely be the one to get it, which you think he deserves from all of the heavy lifting he’s done on operations the past two years, but you feel a bit awkward when they give you your due respect when you're here with your tail between your legs trying to talk to Dazai.

Sakaguchi and Oda take their leave when you arrive, giving short goodbyes to Dazai, telling them that they’ll see him another day, and the bartender makes a fumbled excuse about going to the back to restock, leaving you alone with Dazai. Internally, you wither just a bit because you think if they’d stayed, Dazai might keep a handle on himself because you know he views Oda highly; instead, they left you in the lion’s den alone. Which you might deserve, but you digress.

You let out a quiet puff of air as you make your way over to the bar stool next to Dazai, taking a seat in it carefully. Still, he doesn’t look at you, but you look at him and the aching in your chest returns tenfold as your gaze sweeps over him fully for the first time in months. During the joint meetings between the executives and sub-executives, you were always sure to keep your glances short and sweet, not wanting to risk any lingering looks, but now, you can look at him in his entirety for the first time since that fateful discussion three months ago.

He hasn’t changed much. Or, well, that’s a lie. He’s definitely changed. The circles beneath his eye are darker, his expression a carefully constructed blank mask. You think he might’ve lost some weight, his coat has always been big on him but the way it hangs over his shoulders now is looser than it was before. If it weren’t for the way his fingers were tense around his glass of whiskey, you’d have thought he was entirely unperturbed by your arrival.

You don’t know what to say, and you know you need to be the first to speak because you’re the one that showed up here to talk to him, but now that you’re sitting in front of him you’re floundering for words. You could just come out and say that you broke up with your boyfriend, but you feel like that would be a bit weird, and he’d probably laugh in your face and make a comment about how he doesn’t care. You could ask him how he’s been, but you think he might genuinely put a bullet in you for trying to make small talk with him like that right now.

The longer you stay silent, the more awkward it becomes, and you want to cry because you’ve never been awkward with Dazai before, and for a brief second, you wonder if things really have changed too much to go back to how they were.

Finally, you decide to just come out and say, bracing yourself for the inevitable derisive words that are going to leave his lips. “I broke up with him.”

Dazai’s scoff is loud and instantaneous, you bite your tongue, eyes sliding shut as you turn to face ahead instead of looking at him. Cowardly, you know, but you don’t want to see the sneer on his face when he asks you why he should care.

But he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say anything at first. If you were looking at him, you’d see the way his cold expression shifted into a more conflicted one, still staring ahead because he can’t bring himself to look at you. You count each passing second, and it’s agonizing waiting for him to speak, a part of you thinks that maybe he won’t, and you’ll just have to leave the bar with your tail between your legs, humiliated.

But then he does.

“Why?” he finally asks coolly, and your eyes snap open and your gaze slides over to him when you realize he did not, in fact, hit you with the derogation you expected.

He still isn’t looking at you, and you watch as he lifts his free hand back to his lips, taking another long drag of his cigarette as he waits for your response. You swallow thickly when you try to figure out what to say next.

What you want to say is ‘because he wasn’t you,’ but you’re not ready to bare yourself vulnerable in front of him like that when he’s still so unpredictable. Just because he didn’t immediately hit you with the harsh words you expected, doesn’t mean he isn’t going to lure you in just to slap you in the face with it, which is how you’re sure he perceived what you did three months ago.

Rather, you say quietly: “He was boring, I guess.”

It’s a lie. Well, a partial lie, at least. He was a good guy, he was just boring compared to what you wanted, and what you wanted was Dazai Osamu, who no one in the world could hope to compare to.

“He was boring,” Dazai echoes your words, a cruel and mocking lilt to his voice, and you brace yourself now, taking the sudden switch in tone as the flicking off of the safety. But he shakes his head as he lets out a puff of air, you can’t tell if it’s another scoff or a laugh. “How cold-hearted of you. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given your track record.”

Two paths lay before you: you can take the words as well-deserved, trying to avoid the inevitable fight, or you can spit back equally venomous words, dive in headfirst so the two of you can get everything off of your chest. Both choices are double-edged. If you avoid the fight, it means avoiding the topic altogether, and even if the two of you choose to speak again, the resentment of what had happened will only poison and fester. If you dive into the fight, there’s a chance of saying words you can’t take back, and everything might fall apart anyway.

What do you want? You want to ask him, because you aren’t sure what the right decision is. Three months ago, if you and Dazai got into a disagreement about something, you would know in an instant whether or not he wanted to fight it out to let off steam or just pretend it didn’t happen. Now, you aren’t so sure. He’s still not looking at you, so you can’t use the look in his eye as a hint, but his shoulders are tense beneath his jacket, and his knuckles are white around his glass of whiskey. Your gaze drags up to his face, catching the way his jaw is tight, teeth probably grinding together, and you know.

You look ahead again, leveling your vision on a particularly nice bottle of wine on the third shelf of the wine rack as you say: “I’d rather be cold-hearted than a coward.”

For the first time since you’ve arrived, Dazai’s gaze cuts in your direction, head snapping to the side. You turn your head toward him just enough for you to eye him from the corner of your eye, catching glimpse of the way his lip curled up into a snarl and the way flames now rage in the browns of his eye—a far cry from the bottomless void, but you prefer the anger to the emptiness.

“A coward?” His voice is low, cold, dangerous.

You’re treading on thin ice, but you choose to stoke the flame more, gaze sliding back to the wine racks ahead.

“A coward.”

The silence that hangs between the two of you is tense and damning, you have to force yourself not to react to it, keeping your expression as stony as his as you wait for his response. He’ll either hit you back with more venom or he’ll settle down, one will lead to a blow out fight and the other will lead to a very tense conversation.

You don’t want to fight him, but if that’s what he wants, you’ll give it to him.

After what feels like an eternity, Dazai makes another scornful noise but he doesn’t say anything, gaze snapping back ahead as he takes a drag of his cigarette, this one clearly fueled by anger, far more aggressive than the last one. As if to piss him off even more, he hardly gets half of a smoke, down to the nub already. Frustrated, he puts the lingering cinders out on the bartop before reaching for the pack in his pocket, pulling out a new cigarette and his lighter.

You watch as he tries to flick the lighter on, cigarette dangling between his lips, but the old thing refuses to cooperate. Distantly, you wonder why Dazai is so damn stubborn: working with an old lighter, living in a shitty shipping container, wearing the same few pairs of clothes every day when he probably has more money than god hoarded from his executive paycheck. But you only force yourself to not roll your eyes as you pull out your own lighter, flicking it on and holding it out to him without looking at him.

You watch from the corner of your eye as he stares at your hand suspiciously before he exhales from the side of his mouth, dipping his head down to light the cigarette before he faces ahead again. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches out for his glass of whiskey, still mostly full, and then he slides it over to you.

An offering. A white flag.

You barely withhold the breath of relief that nearly escapes you, accepting the drink and taking a long sip of it. It’s his favorite brand, smooth and familiar on the tongue; you haven’t been able to bring yourself to drink it since your falling out with him.

“Was it really because he was boring?” Dazai finally asks. He’s not looking at you again, but you can see from the way his fingers are tense against the bartop that he’s probably waiting for a certain response from you.

You let your eyes slide shut. “No,” you admit.

“Then why?” he presses, as if he doesn’t already know.

“You know why,” you say tightly, shaking your head and looking down.

“Tell me anyway,” Dazai responds quietly, you can feel his gaze on you but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Irrationally, even though the atmosphere between the two of you has shifted, you wonder if this is it: he’s going to get you to admit it and then laugh in your face, cruel but probably deserved.

“Because he wasn’t you,” you finally force out.

He doesn’t respond. Your heart sinks to your stomach, a sick feeling churning. You brace yourself again—you don’t know what for, maybe a laugh or a derisive comment, but he does nothing of the sort.

A long exhale, smoke billowing around his face, a heavy look in his eyes. He doesn’t look at you as he says: “You’re right.”

You don’t respond because you’re not sure what he’s referring to. Finally, he tilts his head to look at you, a wry smile on his lips—your chest feels warm at the sight, you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him smile. Probably not since the falling out.

“I was a coward.”

Oh.

The frustration you felt all of those months ago returns with a vengeance. You had danced with possibilities back then: that you were reading too much into things, that he didn’t actually care for you the way you did for him, that he simply did not want to be with you even if he did care about you that way. Now, faced with confirmation that he had felt the same but was just too pussy to act on it, your chest swells with that familiar anger. You force it away.

“Why?” you ask after a few moments of silence, nails digging into the palm of your hands as you rest them on your lap. “I… I waited for two years, Dazai. I gave you so many openings. You knew how I felt.”

“I know.” His voice is quiet, barely audible.

“Then why?” you repeat his words back to him, pressing hard just like he did. His throat bobs beneath his bandages as he swallows, averting his gaze, or trying to, at least, because you don’t let him. You reach out to grab his chin tightly, forcing him to look at you, and the pads of your fingers burn against his skin, hyper aware of the fact that this is the first time you’ve touched him in three months. “Why?”

His hand comes up to grab your wrist as if to pull your hand off of him, but he doesn’t, grip firm around your wrist, fingers pressing against your pulse point, and you’re acutely conscious of the fact that your pulse is probably racing but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“I told you why,” he says, voice uncharacteristically soft. Vulnerable in a way that you’ve never seen him before. “I was a coward. I… didn’t want to risk ruining our friendship... I don't have many friends. You know that. I would’ve rather just ignored how I felt and kept you as a friend, because I didn’t think there’d be a chance of losing you that way. I thought if I acted on how I felt, one day you’d eventually see me for what I am and I’d lose you altogether.”

“Some good that did you.” You can’t help the resentful words that spill from your lips, but you feel guilty when he winces, hand dropping back to your lap, his grip slipping from your wrist. “You think I don’t already see you for who you are? We’ve known each other since we were sixteen, Dazai. I know all of the sick and twisted thoughts that run through your head, I knew exactly what I was getting into.”

Dazai shakes his head, as if to deny your words. You get frustrated.

“I spend hours at your recovery bed after your attempts, I’ve caught you in the middle of them myself, do you know what the first thing I did was after I told you I had a boyfriend?” you demand, and he stares at you, unsure. “I put a protection detail on him because I thought you’d try to have him killed, or try to kill him yourself.”

Dazai winces. You shake your head and look away, settling down again.

“For someone so smart, you really are so goddamn stupid sometimes,” you sigh, taking a long swig of his drink before placing the glass back down on the table. “I saw you for who you are, and I wanted you anyway.”

“Wanted?” Dazai asks, an uncertain expression on his face as he zeroes in on the past tense.

“Want,” you correct, voice little over a breath, and something akin to relief sweeps across his face as his gaze drops down to the bartop.

The silence that hangs between the two of you is more comfortable this time. Reassuring, even, because maybe things might still be awkward between the two of you for a while, but there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, one much brighter than the one the two of you lived in three months ago.

“I can’t believe you went for a civilian,” Dazai suddenly says, almost sounding indignant. “A civilian. You!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you snap when you hear the incredulous tone he takes when he says ‘you’.

“You’re a stone cold bitch,” Dazai accuses and you gape, but you can’t find it in yourself to be offended because his eyes are lit up for the first time in months, a lopsided smile painted on his face. “And you’ve got as much blood on your hands as I do. You. A civilian. I think I would’ve been less offended if you went for Chuuya.”

“We both know that’s a lie,” you snort, and then you add, a bit amused, “you know what he wants a job as?”

“Tell me,” Dazai drawls, resting his chin on his hand as he leans on the bar, watching you with such a fond expression that it makes you feel warm all over.

God, you missed him the past three months.

“He wanted to go to law school. Become a public defender.”

Dazai chokes over the smoke he inhales, and you press your hand to your lips to smother your giggles as he desperately wheezes between laughs. You’re not sure if he’s actually choking, you think he might actually be dying from how red his face is getting.

“Maybe you should keep in contact with him then,” he gasps between laughs, “we might need one of those one day.”

“As if you’re sloppy enough to ever get caught,” you say dryly.

He winks at you, his grin sharpening, and you know you’re not going to like what he’s about to say. “Oh, I’m not. By ‘we’, I meant you.”

“Douchebag.” You roll your eyes, letting another silence settle over the two of you, a smile on your lips now as you take another sip of your drink. He’s the one to break it again.

“... Odasaku convinced me not to, by the way.”

“What?”

“To kill him. I was going to. Odasaku convinced me not to.”

You let out a sigh of utter suffering, giving Dazai a pointed look—see, you say silently, I know you. He has the decency to look a bit sheepish as lifts his cigarette back to his mouth in lieu of responding to your unspoken words.

“Stop with the self sabotage, Dazai,” you finally say, tired. “For both of our sakes’.”

He doesn’t respond, and you know him well enough to know that he’ll probably never stop with the self sabotage, but he does reach out to lace your fingers with his, and the warm feeling that spreads through your chest is enough to satiate you.

Little steps, because no, the Mafia is not a conducive place for relationships and yes, it’s only a matter of time before luck runs out for one of you, but if your life is destined to be short, there’s only one person you want to spend it with.

#ᡣ𐭩 carina’s archives #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

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