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hidden-poet · 2 months

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Commander Snow; chapter 6

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit, violence, death.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Being Commander of District 12 meant that Coriolanus couldn’t just whisk you away to the forest to face his fears. He had a whole army dependent on him. It meant that while you were held up in his apartment, he was held up in his office.

It annoyed him to no end. To have you so close and yet still out of reach.

Despite you living with him for a week, you’ve only shared one meal together.

His overtime meant that you were asleep by the time he got home.

You had left a clean pair of his pajamas on the end of the bed. He had a habit of just stripping down to his underwear to join you.

You left dinner for him in the fridge and he sat at the dinner table eating it alone.

On the odd occasion, there was time to spend together, the mood was often tense from Coriolanus stress.

He tried not to take his frustration out on you but his answers were often short.

After a long day filled with complaints and issues that could have been easily solved without him, Coriolanus decided that he would not return to his office after supervising drill training and instead remain with you.

He was beyond tired from his day, but it was too early to suggest bed. You lay with him on the couch, propped up by a throw pillow against the arm of the couch while he lay in front of you. He threw your arm around his shoulder and held it tight under his chin.

The TV played a music talent show that neither you nor Coriolanus could care about but the tv only picked up two channels; the news or the entertainment channel that the Hunger Games were shown on. Coriolanus couldn’t bear to hear any more politics for the day so you watched people dressed in irregular costumes perform ballads out of their range.

His eyes droop as he fights the upcoming sleep. It was the first time since the fight with Edmund that he got you to sit down. The little he was here you spent avoiding him. For the first few days, he was angry too and avoidance stopped the fight he wanted to have with you.

But a week had passed and his temper cooled.

You were with him now. Playing housewife to the Commander.

He felt better now that he was coming home to something, rather than just the cold. When he looked in the fridge there was food for him. His clothes were washed and prepared for him. His bed was warm at night. He made him feel less homesick.

The talk from the TV turned from the judges to Lucky the presenter.

“Now ladies and gentlemen. We have a surprise for you tonight. We have a certain special guest gracing us. And we have given him the power to save one of your favorites from elimination! Mr Augustus Bloom won’t you please come out!”

Coriolanus shot up from your hold to watch him.

Augustus Bloom walked on screen wearing an expensive suit. His brown hair was slicked back and a small gold earring dangled from his ear.

The crowd cheered for him.

Coriolanus was stuck in District 12 dealing with half-wits and scum, while Augustus was charming the Capitol on live tv.

He shakes hands with Lucky.

“Mr. Bloom, a privilege to have you here tonight!”

“A privilege to be here amongst you and away from my office.”

Lucky turns to the crowd and laughs.

“Look at you. You good-looking man! You should be out on the town, breaking hearts!”

Augustus laughs along with the crowd.

“I am too busy preparing my business for when I am president of Panem. I’ll worry about women after that.”

Coriolanus clenches his fist.

“Oh,” Lucky turned serious to the crowd, “I think Coriolanus Snow might have something to say about that!”

The crowd murmurs amongst themselves giving Coriolanus an air of confidence.

A picture from his Academy days flashes up on the screen, you look at it with curiosity. He was once a young boy with soft curls, he now sat nearly unrecognizable.

“He’s looking like a strong contender. Isn’t he handsome ladies!” He points out to the crowd, “And some gentleman.”

Augustus had the wind knocked out of his sail. He fidgeted on stage and took a step back almost as if he was going to run away. Dr. Gaul's criticism ran through Coriolanus’ head, “a soft-bellied rich boy, not fit for the presidency.”

Now the whole audience knew it too.

“Snow isn’t here” he gritted through a smile. He wasn’t going down with a fight.

“No. He’s in District 12, keeping us here in the Capitol safe. A round of applause for Commander Snow!”

The crowd cheered causing Coriolanus to smile.

“So am I!” Augustus interrupted like a child.

“Yes, right. I am sure one day you will!” Lucky claps him on the back and returns to the audience with an excited demeanor.

“But of course, that’s a while yet! We are wishing our President Ravenstill all the good health in the world. Now let’s get on with the show!”

Coriolanus switches the TV off and rests his arms on his knees. He couldn’t help but smile at Augustus' national failure. He made Coriolanus look so strong, so mysterious, and focused. He would send Lucky a fruit basket in thanks tomorrow. He would also send one to Augustus.

“You had curls.” The young boyish figure had shocked you.

“Yes,” he pats your knee affectionately, “When we are back in the Capitol and I am president of Panem, I’ll grow them back again.”

==================

Coriolanus has the nightmare that night. He woke up with the tune of ‘Hanging Tree’ stuck in his head. The first thing he does is reach out to where you should have been lying only to find the space cold. Panic rushes through him. His feet thump against the floorboards as he runs from the room into the hall. Your sleeping body can be seen on the couch and he instantly relaxes.

His body tells him he should be angry; fists clenched, shoulders up and tense, his face hot. But he couldn’t manage it. His mind was too hazy to comprehend anything but his own panic.

Instead, he sits down on the floor beside you and tries to control his breathing. The tune hums in the back of his mind and he tries to force it out.

“You had the nightmare again?” Your voice halts the tune. He looks over his shoulder at you with wide eyes. You finally saw the resemblance between the schoolboy with the curls.

He gets up and pushes himself on the couch next to you. You feel his hands slide up your back, trying to hold you close but you wiggle free from his grasp.

You would not comfort the man who kidnapped you.

He tried to bring you back down to his chest as you crawl over him but his tired state left room for error.

You tumble down to the floor as you escape.

He sighs disappointed, bringing his hands up to his face.

“Was there something wrong with the bed?” he asks.

“I prefer the couch.” You sit on the ground next to him.

“You prefer the bed built by Edmund.” He spat his name like it was poison.

You look up at him warily, “I never told you that Edmund built my bed.”

Coriolanus is silent for a minute, he sucks his teeth and sits up.

“You didn’t have to. The wood from your door and bed match.’’

He feels settled as you sit by his feet. The panic subsides, but his anger bubbles up from it.

“Can you make me a cup of tea?” he asks.

With him on your bed, you couldn’t go back to sleep anyway so you rose and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

He watches you while sitting on the couch. He liked how you moved so comfortably in the space. You were treating it like your home. No hesitation about where things were, you used things liberally.

“What do you dream?” You ask him.

“When I wake up it’s gone,” he lies.

You know he carries it around with him.

“Whatever it is, it scares you.”

The kettle whistles and you pour it over the tea bag.

He worried that he now looks weak in front of you. The man who was supposed to be protecting you was scared of a dream like a child. He could continue with his lie but you already knew.

Instead he tries a half-truth.

“I dream that I am killed like my father was.”

This peaked your interest causing him to sit up straighter under your attention.

“How did he die?”.

He takes the cup from you but you don’t scurry away like you usually do. You stand in front of him eager to listen to him. The attention moved his mouth,

“Here. In District 12. A trap out in the forest during the war. He was a governor”.

“Is that why you wanted to come back?”

“I didn’t want to come back” he admits. He reaches up with his spare hand to lightly touch yours, “But I am glad I did.”

“What did you do?” you feel his thumb brush over the back of your hand, “I mean, to get you sent here?”

He takes a sip of his tea before answering, “I had an enemy in the Capitol. He disliked my father and took it out on my family”.

“He sent you back as Commander?”

“No. He died. Gaul sent me back for my presidential run. It looks better to be serving my country.”

You tear your hand from him, “And when they find out you brought me back to the Capitol. How will that look?”

He places the cup on the floor and stands up to your height.

“I’ll keep you safe, okay?” he presses his forehead against yours, “In the district and in the Capitol”.

“Safe from danger you put me in.”

Coriolanus shakes his head as you pull away from him. “You’re safe. You’ve always been safe.”

He tried to pull you close again but you stretched out your arms to keep him at distance.

“I wanna go home, Coriolanus.”

“Home to Edmund, perhaps?” he bites. His calm and soft features harden.

A shiver shoots up your spine at the mention of Edmund.

“Home to my family. The same as you.”

He sighs, “You won’t be alone in the Capitol as you are here. You just have to put up with it just a little bit longer. We’ll be back home soon”

The Capitol was not your home nor would it ever be.

But you knew anymore talk of home would lead to more talk of Edmund.

“Come on. Let’s go back to bed.” You rip your elbow from his grasp as he walks past you.

“I’m fine on the couch.”

He rubs a hand over his mouth before bending down and picking up his tea cup. He splashes the remains on the couch and hands you the empty cup.

“Enjoy it then.”

—————-

The next day he comes home around lunch time. It catches you by surprise.

“Come on,” he says, nodding his head backwards.

You follow him without a word to the van below where officials stood around. Upon seeing him they take their place. You see Smiley by the passenger side door and he calls out for his Commander.

Coriolanus tell Smiley to take the seat and climbs in the tray of the truck.

He pulls you up into the van amongst the Peacekeepers. He sits on the end of the bench with you between his legs on the floor. Like a seatbelt he keeps you in place by taking a hold on your upper arms and pulling them back up on his knees.

You can feel the glances of his officers but they look away as soon as you try to meet their eyes.

Halfway they try to break the tension with idle chatter.

“Will the recruits be as bad as last year?”

“That’s couldn’t be possible.”

The talk soon turns to anecdotes about their youthful days as Peacekeeper grunts.

None of them try to include Coriolanus in their jests. They all willfully ignored the couple on the end.

You don’t try to talk to him either.

As you pass through the district the people look at the Peacekeeper van causing you to turn your head in embarrassment. You could still feel the harsh judgements from your community as you sat between the Commander's legs. How would you ever rebuild your reputation?

The van stops in front of the tunnel to the train station. The people part in the crowd to let the van through.

Coriolanus releases you to unhook the bolts from the backn of the truck. None of the other Peacekeepers move until he does. He jumps down from the bed of the truck and turns back around to help you down. They all wait until you are down and out of the way before they follow.

It’s busy, too busy for a normal docking of fresh recruits. All of the road and tunnel leading to the train station were overrun by bodies.

District people flood the space, all chatting loudly in a panic. They part as the line of Peacekeepers march through.

Normally on orientation day, the newcomers to District 12 were given a wide berth. People had better things to do then get a glimpse of the faces that would soon be terrorizing them.

You wondered what peaked their excitement today. What had Coriolanus done that both you and the district people had to see?

Coriolanus drags you down the dark tunnel into the light of the train station. The talk quitened but didn’t stop altogether.

You screamed upon seeing the commotion.

Edmund.

He was badly beaten and tied to a sturdy metal pole that kept the roof up. A bulls-eye was spray painted an inch above his head.

Blood soaked his face to the point you almost didn’t recognize him.

Large black bruises covered his exposed skin.

You turn to Coriolanus who was already looking at you and beg him to release Edmund.

“Please, Coriolanus. Let him go.”

“He threw the first punch.”

You knew it had less to do with causing Coriolanus physical harm than it did with damaging his ego and need for control. Your neighbors were shown that the Commander bleeds like any other man.

“He learnt his lesson.” you promise.

“Have you learnt yours?”

Only ten young boys disembark from the train. They were all thin with a badly-shaved buzzcut and carrying a Capitol issued duffle bag.

You wanted to run over to Edmund. Protect him somehow. But you couldn’t, it was your protection that got him here in the first place.

“Gentlemen, welcome to District 12.”

Coriolanus stood by your side while another officer went in front of the line of boys.

“This is Edmund Flare,” he gestures to Edmund at the post, “A known rebel sympathizer, and a troubled citizen of District 12.”

Another Peacekeeper runs over and passes the man a gun. You grab Coriolanus' arm in protest.

“More likely than not, you will have to shoot Edmund one day in service of your country. We figured today we would give you the opportunity to save yourself the trouble in the future.”

The first young boy is given the gun.

“You get one shot before you have to wait for that day to naturally come.’’

Edmund holds his head up high to show he is not afraid. But you were. You were terrified. A strong urge to go over and rip the gun out of the young boys hands presented itself but you knew you would be pulled back before you could even stand close enough to touch him,

The boy checks the gun for the trigger, earning a laugh from everyone but you and Coriolanus.

Eventually he finds it, and he takes aim.

The shot misses by a mile.

“Coriolanus please.” He remains emotionless, watching the scene before him. He stood as if it was a street performance, hands clasped behind his back and perfect posture to get a good view.

“Wait! Wait!” you call out but the men continue. Another boy steps up and takes the gun.

He takes less time to examine the gun before firing a shot. Edmund flinches as it wizzes past his shoulder.

‘‘Coriolanus! Stop this. Just please stop, untie hi-”

The next shot is fired causing you to spin around to ensure that Edmund was still standing. He was tall and stupidly proud.

“I’ll never forgive you if one of them hurt him!” you threaten but it doesn’t even earn you a glance.

“Do you love him?”

“No” you answered firmly and fast, “No, Coriolanus. Please stop.”

Another shot is taken.

“Because if you loved him now would be the time to tell me, because I would hate to break apart lovers.”

The third shot lands next to Edmunds boot. You felt physically sick watching the scene. Your legs shook and would soon give way.

The men start to whoop and cheer the young recruits on. It gives the next young boy confidence to take a step closer to take his shot but it misses all the same.

You can’t tear your eyes off Edmund as the next recruit takes aim. They look each other in the eyes. Never spoken a word and already enemies.

The shot is taken but wizzes past Edmunds head.

You shake your head no. You knew telling him that you loved Edmund would sign his death certificate.

“He’s my brother's friend, Coriolanus. We grew up together.”

The next shot hit the pole but not the target, causing you to yelp.

Loud cheering snapped you out of your daze. Begging would get you nowhere.

Instead you take his shoulders into your arms and turn him towards you.

“He looked after me before you. I would have been dead long before you got to me if it wasn’t for him”.

Coriolanus throws his eyes back to Edmund which was not the desired effect.

You change positions, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his attention back down to you.

“I didn’t tell him that you’d taken his role. The other night he was just trying to protect me as you would’ve.”

He finally looks down at you.

“Please, don’t kill him, Coriolanus. I could never forgive myself.” Your voice begins to shake. You were so nervous for Edmunds safety. Your knees buckled and tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

He takes the side of your face into his hands.

“Do you love him?”

You shake your head feverishly, “No, Coriolanus.”

“Do you love him?” You feel his fingers tighten on your face.

“Yes.” you admit.

“Do you love me?”

Through gritted teeth a ‘yes’ resounds.

“More than him?”

A shot whizzed into the crowd as the new recruit lost control of the gun and Coriolanus pulled his body over yours.

The officers scold the boy. Taking the waving gun away. The shot landed into the train station wall but it was a close call for those standing in front of it.

He removes your arms from him and you watch him walk over to the officer holding the gun.

He takes it and aims at Edmund who stood straight and tall.

You shrink as the gun fires. Unable to look, you cover your face with your hands.

The cheering made no impact on your confidence. You couldn’t hear Edmund from their excitement. So you reluctantly open your eyes to see him still standing.

The bullet had made it straight to the middle of the painted target.

Coriolanus stood taking aim still, as if he was still considering firing another shot.

Edmund stared back, almost daring him.

“Commander.” you call. You don’t call him by his name, not in front of people.

Coriolanus lowers the gun but keeps his eyes on Edmund as he speaks,

“Load them up and head back to the compound.” he passes the gun to the closest officer and turns back to where you stood.

“Cut him loose.” he calls back.

When he tosses his arm around you and pulls you back to the truck, you turn back to see Edmund surrounded by Peacekeepers.

People mummer as you walk past but your ears buzzed too loudly to hear a word.

You felt so weak as you walked. You thought you were going to collapse before you could make it to the van. But with Coriolanus’s strong hold on you, you made it back.

He climbs in first and reaches down to pull you up. He sits you on his knee instead of on the ground and you watch as the peacekeepers, old and new, return to the truck.

You don’t even have it in you to feel embarrassed as eyes locked into you.

No one said anything to Coriolanus on the way back.

As soon as the truck opens back in the compound, you are the first to jump out. You hear Coriolanus footsteps as he followed you back to the apartment.

You immediately take a seat at the kitchen table and Coriolanus gets you a cup of water. You stare at it in front of you.

“Edmund died today, as far as you are concerned.”

Closing your eyes to the image of him, you nod your head.

He could hear Coriolanus moving around the apartment but you couldn’t care what he was doing.

When he slams something down in front of you, you open your eyes to see a piece of paper and a pen.

“I want you to write to your brother and tell him about us.”

You couldn’t. Your brother was hot headed, and powerless. He would cause only problems for himself trying to get back.

“What would be the point? He is over in District 8.”

“My family are in the Capitol, yet they know about you.”

Shock strikes you knowing that his family knew of Coriolanus’s actions.

“Write to him,” he pushes, “tell him that we are together. How you feel.”

You pen a half-hearted letter about how you met a man. Coriolanus, you called him, Not Commander Snow. You tell him how you miss him, and that your mother is okay. That Coriolanus is ensuring that your basic needs are met. Don’t worry, you tell him, you’re perfectly safe.

Coriolanus reads it after you are done before folding it and placing it in his pocket.

He slides another piece of paper over in front of you.

“Now write to Tigris and my grandmother. Tigris suggested it would make you feel better, already knowing someone in the Capitol.”

You pick up the pen and write again, but your mind remains on the image of Edmund being used as target practice. You make yourself a promise that you would never meet his cousin or his grandmother. Their letters are as close as they will get before you could escape.

—------

Coriolanus amped up his work schedule even more. Eager to break free from his responsibilities and solve the mystery of Lucy Gray.

You were left alone at night which was preferable to his company but you felt yourself going crazy with only your own company.

You tried to keep a routine to fill the day. It was mostly taken up by cleaning tasks.

After dinner you would wash and dry the dishes, wipe the countertops and table and sweep and mop the floor. Then you would retire to the living room with your sewing or polishing work until it was time for bed.

There is a quiet tapping on the window disturbing you from securing the buttons on Coriolanus’s shirt.

No fear ran through you wondering who it could be. They couldn’t get in to harm you anyway. So you peer out from the window.

“Edmund” you gasp.

His left eye was blackened, a large bruise formed around the bloodshot vessels. A purple bruise marked his cheek and there was a cut on his right eyebrow.

“How did you get in?”

He hold a pair of wire cutters up to the window.

“Are you okay? God I was so worried about you.”

“Ah,” Edmund smiles and replaces the wire cutters with a small knife from his pocket, “Takes more than that.”

“What are you doing?” you hiss. If Coriolanus found him, there was no way Edmund would escape death a second time.

“Getting you out of here.”

“You can’t be here. He’ll be home soon.”

“I know. I’ve been here every night since i’ve been well enough. I told you, you’re not alone.”

“The Peacekeepers-’’

“There’s a fifteen minute window where this section is blind.” The lock wiggles but resists being opened under pressure, “And he just entered the infantry to wish our poor peacekeepers a speedy recovery. We have time.”

The door was determined to chew most of it up, however.

“Edmund, what did he do to you?” his face was swollen from the bruising, and you could see large black and purple spots peeking out from under his shirt.

“The day after he took you, he sent Peacekeepers to my home. They took me back to the compound and showed me some ‘hospitality’”.

“Edmund,I am so sorry,” you begin to cry, “I never should have taken the oat bars to the jail.”

You remembered the day at the market that set off the chain of events.

You remember seeing the man, he stood out amongst the crowd. Dirty, torn clothes. An arm missing, no doubt from the district's mining work. There wasn’t much work for men outside of it.

A sense of pity overwhelmed you, so when he swiped a loaf of bread off the table, you looked the other way. Unfortunately a watchful Peacekeeper did not.

The man's plea echoed through your mind as he was taken away; “Please, I am so hungry.”

It led you to making the oat bars not only for him, but for all the others punished for their hunger.

You remembered a rumor that there was a hole at the west end of the jail for the Peacekeepers to sneak out from, and women of the night to sneak in. You were surprised to find out it was actually true.

“This is not your fault, okay. I am going to get you outta here, and we’ll go to the mountains okay? Where it’s safe. Like planned.”

You nod your head.

The door jingles as Edmund tries to force it open with his knife. It doesn’t bulge.

“Edmund, my mother, is she okay?”

“She’s okay. She’s already up the mountains.��

“How? She could barely walk?”

“I carried her.”

The guilt came crashing down on you. Edmund had his own family to look after. They wouldn’t survive without him.

“Edmund. Stop. I can get the key,” you weren’t sure if you actually could, “You need to go. Just tell me where you cut the hole.”

He stops trying to wedge the door with the knife so you could hear him clearly.

“There’s three big bins out by the back,” he points to the direction, “I cut a hole behind the middle one. It’ll take you to the south forest. I’ll wait there.”

“No,” you interject, “No. Wait for me in the mountains.”

He rolls his eyes and picks up his work of jamming his knife in the door.

“You’ll never make it up the mountain by yourself.”

“At home then! Just stay away from here.”

The plea was for both you and him.

“You can get the key and get out?” He asks in a serious tone, looking at you once more.

“Yes.” you confirm.

He sighs as he pockets his knife, “When?”

The Commander kept his keys by the night stand. You think you could remember which one opened the door.

“Soon.”

“A week. I’ll give you a week before I come back with something stronger.”

You nod your head in agreement.

“Thank you, Edmund.”

“You’re my girl.” he remarks as it was an obvious motivation for his work.

You shiver at his words.

————

You don’t sleep well at night so you have taken to having naps while Coriolanus is at work. He is home more often now. He had got ahead of a considerable amount of work which meant nights were spent together.

Most nights he would take you walking around the compound for fresh air after dinner. You tried to memorize the key he used to unlock the door but there were so many that all looked the same. You wondered how he even knew.

He is anxious now that he found out you were sleeping in the living room and has taken to chaining you together as you slept. He cuffed one of his wrists and one of yours, making sleep impossible as he basically slept on top of you now.

It was only three days after Edmunds promise, that you woke from your nap with the sight of Coriolanus packing your clothes into a bag.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

Was he moving you to your own apartment?

He drops the bag and comes over to sit next to you on the bed.

“Hey,” he greets “You need to get up now. We are going to go away for the weekend.”

You sit up away from him, “Where are we going?”

Vacations were not a thing in District 12.

“The Capitol?” you guessed.

“No, not the Capitol.”

You sigh in relief. Still he had not answered your question.

“Where then?”

He gets up from the bed and zips the bag up.

“Do you not trust me?”

You get up from the bed to see he had laid a dress on the end of the bed for you.

‘‘I just want to know where we are going.”

“You took me to a special place, and now I want to take you somewhere, okay?”

Throwing the duffle bag filled with spare clothes for you and him, over his shoulder he exits the room.

You change and his way out to the living room. There would be no point in fighting. You were going to find out where he was taking you at some point.

The living room was empty, but the door swung wide.

With the door being left open for you, you took the stairs down to where Coriolanus was loading the back of a patrolling truck.

You saw a small cooler of food, one of the old pans, bedding and pillows, a small bag of toiletries and the clothes bag. He had packed in a hurry. The bags were thrown in without care. They were far apart from each other and more items than not were upside down.

“We’re not coming back?” you ask.

“We’ll stay a night or two.” Or however long it takes to find Lucy Gray’s body.

He holds open the door and you follow his silent command to get in. You spot the rifle tucked between the seat and the console. It makes you rethink your decision of complacency.

“My special place didn’t need a gun.”

He takes your arm and gently pushes you forward into the car, but you tug back against him.

“It’s nothing. Just a precaution.”

He gently pushes you again to move.

“Get in.” he barks.

“No.”

He takes a harsh grip this time on your arm and leads you back to the cage where Peacekeepers kept people who disturbed the peace.

He pushed you into the small space amongst the bags.

It was big enough that you could sit with your back against the wall but it would only leave an inch of space between your head and the roof. The back was caged in so the rebels couldn’t reach the officers in front, and the length was long enough to fit three or four rebels at one time. Albeit a tad uncomfortably.

You bang on the metal divide as he slams the door shut and begins to drive.

“Coriolanus, you don’t have to do this. I could just go home.”

He drives through the middle of the district to the out of bounds forest, where Peacekeepers were waiting armed and ready by the electric fence line. They buzz the parting gate open and seal it shut again once the car passes.

Past the gate, it was just you and him. What would he want to take you to a secluded forest for. A million reasons run through your mind and they all end with you dead.

“How are you doing back there?” he calls from the front. The car as it powers through the harsh conditions almost drowns him out.

“Where are you taking me?” you demand to know, “What’s out past the boundary line that you set up?”

Was he hiding something out there? Was that the reason he set up the fence? Not to keep people contained but to hide something.

“There’s a cabin I know of. There’s a lake too. I think you’ll like it.”

You watch from the front window, looking out for landmarks that could lead you back home. The dark clouds that roll fourth threaten to destroy anything you can remember.

The path to the cabin is ingrained in his mind since he walked back a different man. He weaved through the gaps in the forest without looking at his father’s compass.

“Did Lucy Gray like it?”

He ignores your comment and you don’t speak again.

—---

When you reach the cabin it is old and run down. Vines cover the walls of the house, patching up the rotten wood.

Coriolanus seemed nervous to be there. His hand flexes as it reaches for you.

The door had been sealed shut with moisture and it took three hard shoulder charges from Coriolanus to get it open. He invites you in with a hand on your shoulder, shutting the door behind you before retaking your hand in his.

You could smell the dust as you stood in the small living room. The cabin was small and colorless. Mostly everything was made from wood. From the small kitchen table and chairs to the bed you could see in the adjacent room. The only thing that was metal was an old fire stove, and a few decorative pieces.

Leaves had blown in from holes in the roof scattering the floor. The place looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. You would have thought the place was abandoned since its creation if there weren’t bags upon the floor. Despite its appearance, someone had been here before you and Coriolanus.

He lets go of you to rush over to the bags. He unzips one and pulls out a colorful dress. The way he lets out a laughy breath sends shivers down your spine.

“Lucy Gray’s?” you ask but you already know the answer. He had taken her here to kill her, maybe under the guise of running away together, and now he has taken you here to kill you.

Coriolanus shrugs as if he doesn’t know and shoves the dress back in the bag.

“Whoever it belongs to is long gone.”

He continues to look through the bags for anything missing while you glance at the door.

You think about making a run for it. Surely you would have a better chance in the forest then against him. You feel your feet slowly turning in the direction of the door when his speaking interrupts you.

“I’ll take this junk outside.” he gathers the bags, slinging one over his shoulder and carrying the other two in his hands.

You don’t speak as he comes over to you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, noticing your uptight demeanor.

“Fine. You?” Was he being driven to a quiet rage with thoughts of Lucy Gray?

“Perfect.”

He places a quick kiss to your lips before carrying the bags outside.

You look at the gun on the floor. If you ran now while he was busy outside it would give you a head start. Surely he would need to come back to get the gun before chasing you. He couldn’t do it with his bare hands.

You could feel his hands around your throat and knew he could.

You bolt through the door and down the old steps but run into him as he comes back up.

He had only taken to throwing the old bags by the side of the house, planning to sink them alongside of the guns in the lake at a later point.

“Whoa” he stops you with his hands, “Where are you going?”

“The bags. To get the bags out of the car.”

He looks out to the forest as if he had heard something.

“Get back inside. I’ll get them.”

You watch him from the window bring the items in. He was cautious and kept glancing at the forest.

You did not want to end up a ghost among the forest with Lucy Gray. You wanted to live. To go up to the mountains with Edmund and be shielded in his arms.

As Coriolanus finished his second trip with the bags, he used an old chair still there and pinned it under the door handle to prevent it from opening.

You promised yourself that you would make it to the mountains. Coriolanus would not kill you and bury your body next to Lucy Gray.

You felt as if you were in the Hunger Games.

You were going to be the victor.

Coriolanus looked unbothered by these thoughts as he tried to light a fire in the old stove.

He gets it going and as he puts his matches back in, he notices you still in a tense form.

“It’s only for tonight. We’ll go home tomorrow afternoon.”

“Will we?” you spat. “Why are we here anyway?”

‘To kill me. Say it, you coward’, you thought.

“It’s quiet,’’ he suggests, “Some place quiet where we can be alone.”

“Is this where you took Lucy Gray?”

He slams a pan down on top of the hot surface.

“I didn’t know Lucy Gray. I’ve told you.” He opens a pack of sausages and throws them down without care before tossing the leftover garlic potatoes you cooked the night before in as well.

“Did you bury her out here?” you push.

He ignores you. Pushing around a sausage with the knife he used to cut open the packet.

“Are you going to bury me out here?”

“I have never hurt you.”

“You starved me, hit me, nearly killed my mother. You call that not hurting me?”

You felt your blood boiling. It was one thing to make your life a living hell, it was another to deny he did it.

He drops the knife and turns to face you.

“Have you starved under me? Has your mother?” he hits his chest with his next words, “You eat because of me. You sleep in a bed that I paid for. I provide for you. Me.”

He stalks towards you causing you to stumble back. You hit a wall but feel a rusted piece of metal under your fingertips. You grab it from the desk but keep it low from his sight.

“Everything has happened to you because you strayed, and you want me to apologize for it?”

“I want you to admit to what you did.” What you are about to do, so I don’t feel guilty.

He grabs hold of the bar and pulls it from you.

“I did not kill Lucy Gray,” he said earnestly. But he wished he had.

He throws the rusted object across the room and it lands with a heavy clang.

“And I am not going to kill you. You don’t think you’ve done enough already to get yourself hanged? I protected you from that. Not Edmund.”

Your breath hitches as you hear his name.

The smell of burning and sounds of angry popping infiltrates the room. Coriolanus leaves you to deal with it. The sausages were charred on one side but raw on the other. After a quick flip, Coriolanus returned his attention to you.

“Sit on the ground, by my boots.’’

You eye your weapon on the other side of the room but he was stronger, faster, you would never get it and wield it in time. Night time would be the best chance of escape. The cabin had no lock on it, and you were sure you could make it to the mountains from here. But first you had to get Coriolanus off his guard. He still carried his cuffs with him. Escape would be impossible if you were locked in place.

So you sit on the ground and wrap yourself around his leg as he cooks.

He liked the feeling of you anchoring him. It made him feel secure.

He cooks in silence, tossing the items in the pan so they wouldn’t burn. Cutting a sausage in half, he could see it was done, but he had forgotten plates.

Instead he takes the pan off the stove and carefully sits down across from you on the floor. The pan sizzles as it is placed between you on the floor. It didn’t matter if it burnt the wooden floor. The cabin was so run down, it hardly made a difference. Coriolanus pokes a potato with his knife and brings it up to you.

He wouldn’t give you the knife after the pipe incident. You bite the hot potato off and Coriolanus had his turn.

You could tell the rocky temper was still floating around in him. He had calmed but his face still spoke of his annoyance. His necklace overlaid his shirt, your ring called out to you.

“Give me your dog tag.”

“What?” he responds.

“If you’re not going to kill me, then let me wear your necklace. I’ll give it back at the compound, but if you do kill me, you’ll be forced to wear your guilt around your neck.”

You wanted your ring back before you left him forever.

“I am not going to kill you.” he sighs, taking a bite of sausage.

“Then give me the necklace.”

You hold your hand out for it, which Coriolanus eyes.

Dropping the knife into the pan, he maneuvers the tag of his neck, bypassing your hand and dropping it over your head.

You felt the ring scratch you as it landed.

“Happy now? Will you stop acting crazy?”

You hold the pendants in your hand and nod in agreement

The rest of the night was uneventful. He sets up lamps as it darkens and teaches you a card game. You lost every round, even the ones he tried to let you win. It was a strategy game and you didn’t have the head for it.

The game only lasted an hour before you were helping Coriolanus set up the bed. He had brought along air beds from the Capitol that inflated and deflated by a push of a button. He pushes them together and you made a bed out of the queen sized bedwear from the apartment.

As he went to sleep with you wrapped safely in his arm, he thought about how he was going to get you to stay inside while he went searching the woods.

He couldn’t tell you what he was looking for or who he was looking for. Nor could he take you with him under the guise of a leisurely walk. If Lucy Gray was out there he didn’t want you anywhere near her. He knew there were four more other cabins in these woods. Just because she hadn’t come back for her mother’s dress, didn’t mean she wasn’t out there. If anything, if she was alive it would be the last place she went back to. She was smart, she would have known that Coriolanus would one day come back to find the mystery of Lucy Gray. She was probably trying to throw him off her scent.

You wiggle, pulling the blanket higher over you and it brings his attention closer to home.

Maybe he could lock you in the back of the car while he searched.

He decided he was going to do something nice for you after this. For putting you through it all. Get your measurements and commission Tigris for a new dress, perhaps. Or buy you a necklace of your own.

Maybe both. He had the money for it for the first time in his life. And he did owe you an apology and a thank you for being here with him tonight.

He could see how scared you were thinking that your protector was turning against you. After yesterday, he perhaps should have waited a day or two before taking you away. He at least should have been more gentle in the approach, so you didn’t think he would harm you for his anger towards Edmund.

Coriolanus understood him in a way that saved him from being shot. He was just looking out for you, the same way Coriolanus would have. He and Edmund both wanted to take care of you but your heart only had place for one. And that spot rightfully, and wholly belonged to Coriolanus Snow. Edmund did his job of keeping you alive for Coriolanus and he was rewarded when the bullet went behind him and not into his skull. But now it was Coriolanus’s turn and both Edmund and you needed to learn that.

Coriolanus mind slowed as you stilled beneath him.

You will yourself to be still. You count your breaths out to mime sleeping. Coriolanus’s hold on your shoulder falls as he sleeps but you don’t make a move just yet. Half-scared that he would wake when you got up.

It wasn’t until it started to pour rain that you decided to stop stalling and make a move.

Carefully you rose, and the chains of his arms fell off you. The rain pelting down covered the sound of the air mattress as you moved off it.

The rain, as it turns out, was a blessing and not a punishment.

You had left your boots and dress next to you for easy access. Stripping yourself of your nightdress, you quickly change and tie up your boots.

Coriolanus had taken to sleeping in his underpants, now that you weren’t in a position to indirectly persuade him to dress in his nightwear. He liked the feeling of skin to skin with you but you beg him to keep his t-shirt on. You hated the feeling of his skin pressed against yours. He obliged.

Your boots squeak against the old floor boards as you walk across it to the door. Causing you to wince at every step, but you do manage to reach the door without waking him.

You try to gently tug the chair from under the door but it was jammed. Turning back to see him still sleeping, you tug a bit harder, but only the door knob jiggles. You cringe as he moves slightly on his back. You would have a harder time escaping the compound than here. There were no armed guards or sniffing dogs. Just you and him, and you had a head start. You had to pluck up the courage now.

The chair scraps against the floor but you manage to get it free.

There is a second where nothing moves or makes sound. You almost think you got away scot-free.

“What are you doing?” You hear his voice and turn to see him sitting up dazed.

Your answer is the throwing open of the door and running out. You hear him jump up as you do.

He yanks on his Commander’s pants and boots, leaving the laces untied.

It was too late by the time he got out you were nowhere to be seen.

He felt his heart jump from his chest. This couldn’t be happening. It was just a bad dream that he would wake from. But the icy water pouring down on him told him that it was true. You had betrayed him like Lucy Gray.

Lucy Gray. What if she was out in the woods where you ran? She was the victor of the hunger games, you were a lost lamb. You wouldn’t stand a chance against her. She would tear you to shreds if she thought she could get back at Coriolanus.

He thinks about returning to the cabin and retrieving his gun but you were already too far out of reach.

He yells out for you.

The rain poured down soaking you to the bone, but covered your tracks as you ran.

“Y/N!” he screams. You battle the rain as you ran through the forest. Pushing yourself to go faster.

“Hey, it’s dangerous out here. Lets go back to the cabin. Talk about this.”

His wild eyes scan the area for any sign of movement. The rain hindered his vision but he could hear the faint sound of branches snapping under your foot.

“Do you honestly think you can run from me? That I won’t find you?”

You don’t answer and he screams out some more

“Y/N! Come out now! This isn’t funny!”

You stumble as your dress caught on a tree, it grazes your arm as you pull, leaving a nasty cut.

He screams loudly out of frustration. The rain seemed to slow down to a trickle as he did, as if it was also scared.

“You stupid, little girl” you can hear him as he walks, he was catching up. You couldn’t outrun him so you slowed your pace, focusing your efforts on hiding.

“When I catch you…” he doesn’t finish his sentence.

You press yourself against the tree. Your arm stung from the cut and your lungs burned from your efforts.

“Hey, who do you think will reach your mother first?” he taunts.

You knew it wouldn’t be him. She was safe in the mountains and soon you would be too.

“Y/N. That’s enough.”

You slink to the next tree and focus on quieting your breathing. His footsteps got louder as he gained ground.

“Y/N, I said that’s enough!” He picks up a large tree branch and walks forward with it.

“You’re going to get lost in the forest. There’s worse things than me out there.”

He imagined you wandering, lost amongst the trees. Lucy Gray, savage and wild, following you. You wouldn’t see her as a threat when she introduced herself. You were too sweet. You would willingly follow her back to wherever she was hiding and by the time you sense the danger of her, it would be too late.

He needed to find you. To make sure you were alright. That Lucy Gray hadn’t got her hands on the only pure thing in his life.

“Look it’s not too late. We can just forget this happened. Go back to the compound.” he offers but you knew it wasn’t true.

You hold your brother's ring in your hand and make an attempt to move forward.

You made it to the next tree but hear Coriolanus stop walking.

With the rain slowing, it was harder not to make a noise.

A loud banging spooked you as he threw the wood against the tree you were hiding behind. You knew you should have stayed still, he was only testing, but your feet took off before your mind could command them not too.

He felt better seeing you run off. You ran uninjured and with no one following you.

He takes off after you, determined not to lose sight again.

Both of you run through the forest and rain. You felt as though he might eat you alive if he caught you, but he was faster. All too soon, you feel hands on your waist, pulling you down. You scream as you sink into the mud, trashing under his weight.

He sits on your thighs and keeps your hands pinned against the dirt floor.

“What were you thinking?” He spat. You had never seen him look so upset. His face scrunched, eyebrows furrowed, his eyes looked down at you in a crazy panic.

“How could you be so stupid?”

You toss under him, screaming at him to release you.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

You kick your feet in an attempt to buck him off, but he was too heavy.

“Shut up,” he grabs your jaw and stills it in his direction, “You stupid, stubborn, fool of a girl. What was your plan? Huh? Wander around the forest and hope you make it back to District 12?”

You don’t answer and he tightens his hold.

“It was foolish. What if something got you in the forest?’’

What if Lucy Gray got you in the forest.

“Do you have any idea what that would have done to me?”

“I don’t care,” you cry.

“You don’t care?” he says, astonished.

He sits back off you and pulls you up by your arms.

“When you were hungry, I cared.” he pulled you along back to the cabin.

“When you didn’t have money for rent, I cared.” You wriggle your arm, but his hold was too tight.

“Clothes for the winter, medicine for your mother. I cared. And what do I get for it?”

You latch yourself onto a tree. It grounds you as he tries to tug you off it.

“All I ever wanted from you was for you to care.”

He yanks you off the tree and shoves you forward.

“You would think after everything, I would be entitled to it.”

“Coriolanus, please let go of me.” you buck against him.

He tightens his hold, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground.

He throws you across the floor as you reenter the cabin, going to get his cuffs from his bag. You scramble away from him as he gets closer but he stands over you, trapping your wrist in the cuff and hooking it around the leg of the oven and then trapping your wrists.

He stood back over you.

“Look at you,” he spat, “You wouldn’t have lasted the night out there.”

The cut on your arm bleed down, your hair was tangled with twigs and mud. You looked pitiful.

“Let me go, Coriolanus. I won’t tell anyone.”

He lowers himself down to the ground, placing his knees either side of you. He places the weight of him on your legs. You hated the feeling, as now you were fully immobilized.

He speaks slowly and dangerously with your face in his hands.

“If you ever try to leave me again, there will be nothing you could do that would save Edmund”.

Do you understand?”

You nod, but it seemed to anger him.

“I asked if you understood,” he yells.

“Yes. Yes. I understand.”

“How stupid could you be? So worried about me killing you, you decide to do it yourself.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” you just wanted him to get off you. His weight was crushing.

“I doubt you’ve ever thought something useful in your life. Use to everybody else doing it for you.”

His hands tangle in your hair forcing you to keep still.

“I’ll do your thinking for you from now on. Your next independent thought, I’ll smash from your skull, understand?”

“Yes.” you cry. The night proved too much for you. The hope of getting away now crushed under his foot.

Your chest heaves with sobs. The panic of being a sitting duck waiting to be killed courses through you, it was a choking sensation.

He takes his wet form off of you and towards the door.

The night was getting to him too. He felt as if history was repeating itself. Back in the forest with little control.

He goes to the side of the house where the bags layed and stuffed them with as many heavy rocks as he could find.

They were heavy as he picked them back up and takes the old boat out to the middle of the lake. The bags sink easily with the rocks, and join the guns at the bottom. His past was officially buried. He now only had the future to look forward to. A future with him as President of Panem, and you by his side.

He rows the boat back to shore. The rain soaked him again and his shirt clung uncomfortably on his skin. It sticks the cold to his chest and his mind floats back to you inside. You were sure to catch a cold if he didn’t move fast.

Entering the house, he could see he was correct from the way your body shivered.

Wiping off the water from his face with his soaked shirt, he goes to his bag and pulls out a fresh shirt for himself. He could still hear you crying as he changed into dry shirt and underpants.

He takes one of his long sleeve off-duty button ups and a towel he wanted to be used from swimming in the lake and brings them over to you.

He had brought you a spare change of clothes but after tonight he felt like he needed the extra security and you needed a extra reminder.

You flinch as he drops down on his knees.

“I am going to uncuff you so you can change.”

You sniffle and he takes it as confirmation to move. With your hands unlocked, you battle with Coriolanus over your clothes. He grasps the end of your dress, beginning to hike it up but you push down the fabric.

“I can-” you manage.

“I do the thinking for you, remember.”

You don’t fight as he yanks the wet dress over you, throwing it behind him carelessly. He keeps his eyes as forward as he can as he slides the sleeves up your arms. Only looking down as he does up the buttons. It was oddly gentlemanly and you wonder if he did it for his sake or yours.

“Stop,” you beg, as you feel his fingers hook over the elastic of your underwear. He doesn’t, going as far as to help you put on a fresh pair. He cuffs you once more to the oven before bringing one of the blankets and pillows back over.

He lays the blanket over you without a word and props the pillow under your head before returning to makeshift bed.

He lays on his side away from you, but you gather he doesn’t sleep, as an hour or so later he brings his pillow and blanket and curls up against your side.

He gets his rest, but you are left in a state of shock that hinders your sleep.

————-

Early the next morning you woke from the sound of Coriolanus stomping in the kitchen. He was eating beef jerky for breakfast. You wake with the sight of him leaning back against the wood counter, towards you. You try to sit up as much as you can while being tied down.

Looking at the food, your stomach grumbles.

“Hungry?” he asks.

You nod in hope that mercy would be given to you.

None was.

“Imagine how hungry you would be lost in the woods.”

“I would have made it back.” you contend.

He strips off another piece as he answers, “You would be dead if I didn’t find you.”

He throws the packet on the counter. It sits unbalanced on the side.

“Are we going home?” You saw the bags were neatly packed in a pile and you thought calling the compound ‘home’ might earn you some beef jerky.

“I have something I have to do. We’ll be back by this afternoon.”

“What do you have to do?”

“None of your business.” he snaps.

The conversation ended as he walks over to the bags and picked up his gun that was resting against them.

You watch him, dressed down in his white t-shirt and army pants, as he swings his rifle over his shoulder.

“I’ll be back soon.” he comments, half way out the door.

He walks through the forest at a slow pace. Careful not to miss the smallest bit of detail.

Retracing the steps of that day, he makes it to where he was bitten by the snake.

Time had overtaken the hunting ground. There was now grass where the earth once was.The branches and trees had healed from the damage done.

He eyes the place where he attempted to shoot Lucy Gray and aims his gun like he did.

He half-expected to see her in the space waiting for him, but it was just ground again. No clues were left for him to find.

There was no rotten smell overtaking his nose. No scrap of clothing left for him to find, or anything to indicate human life had been moving through the forest.

He continues to walk through.

The mockingjays squawk above him. If he was a better shot, he would have taken the time to kill at least some of them. But you would hear the gunfire and panic.

With no sign of Lucy Gray, he continues his way up to the other cabins. He searches each one but they look untouched and run down. The heat of the sun beats down on him as he makes his way back. It was early afternoon by the time he had satisfied himself that Lucy Gray was nowhere in the woods. She could have made it back to District 12, but it was unlikely. He kept tabs on the Covey for months after he got back. He surely would have known if they were hiding her. She must have gone north like planned. He wondered if she made it, or if her body is now one with the earth.

Either way, she was gone and Coriolanus could shake her from his memory.

When he returned back to the cabin, you were busy yanking on your chains.

He presses the point of the gun into your ankle, pinning it against the floor. You don’t try moving under threat. He slides the gun slowly up your leg, over your calf, over your knee, inching up to the middle of your thigh under his shirt. You pulled against your chains, but don't verbally acknowledge you were scared.

“Open your legs wider.” he demands. Instead you squeeze your thighs tighter together.

He pushes the gun with more force against you.

“I am in a very good mood. You would hate to ruin that wouldn’t you?”

Deciding you would, you separate your legs. He nestles himself between you, pulling you closer by your thighs so your legs are past his hips.

Thankfully the gun settles on the floor.

“I think we should talk about last night.”

You shake your head no and he gives you a serious look.

“Every time I give you an inch, you take a mile.”

“I thought you were going to kill me.”

“I have been nothing but patient and kind to you.”

You wanted to laugh at him but forced it down. It was not too late for you to end up dead in the forest.

“I know, Coriolanus. And I am sorry. It’s just no one has ever cared for me like this before”.

He laughs gently at you, “You’re trying at least.”

“It scared me. But if you give me another chance, I promise I won’t disappoint you.”

He lays his body down on yours, keeping his weight off you by planking on his elbows.

“You can have as many chances as it takes.” he promises, softly.

“Just one more.” you return in the same small voice.

He kisses you as if you had earnestly promised to live up to his expectations.

But really what you promised is that you would allow yourself one more chance of escape before he made good on his promise to kill your mother and Edmund. If you lead to their death, then you would follow them shortly after.

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

NEXT CHAPTER

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postwarlevi · 1 year

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Content: over 1.7k words of you trying to find something of very important value. g/n reader, more on the fem side if you squint, so don't :)

Extras: Another story for @levi-supreme Happy birthday Levi event! This one is special because she gave me permission to do somewhat of a sequel to a story she did last year, Lost and Found. Go read that if you haven't because it is referenced at one point. Thank you Rei and I hope you love it!

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

You blink your eyes open and smile to yourself as you wake up for the day. You yawn and stretch and slowly sit up in bed. Today being Monday, it's a regular off day for you as your husband gets up for his job very early.

He always tries not to wake you so you can sleep in and usually succeeds in slipping out without making you stir. While you wouldn't mind getting up with him, you do appreciate your sleep.

Looking over at this empty side of the bed you see a note and smile. He's always leaving notes for you.

Morning my love, I hope you got some rest. I might be working late today. But I'll make up for it this weekend. Breakfast is in the fridge. Lots of cut up fruit and yogurt. And those biscuits you like. Don't worry much about chores. I'll help out tomorrow. Relax and I'll see you tonight. - Levi

You sigh happily and put it in your nightstand along with many others from him. Sometimes you like to go back and read them.

Putting on a robe you shuffle to the kitchen and pull out your breakfast. It's all set up so it's easy for you to make a parfait with the fruit and yogurt, and put jam on the biscuits. You make a cup of tea and sit on the porch reading your book while you eat.

It is in fact a lazy day as you don't bother with dishes but put them in the dish washer and draw yourself a bath filled with lavender as you pamper yourself a little bit.

After you're good and wrinkly and the bath water is no longer warm you drain the tub and dry off. Deciding to go be slightly productive you head to your room to get dressed.

You sit on the bed and check your phone that you purposely left on your nightstand so you wouldn't be distracted and see a message from Levi.

It makes you laugh out loud, the funny things he sends you when he's supposed to be in a group meeting.

"Having a good day at work?" You send him jokingly.

Almost right away you get a response asking you to come rescue him, making you smile.

You go back and fourth a few minutes before telling him to get back to work and he says he can't wait to see you.

With that you put your phone in your pocket and think for a moment. Something looks like it's missing from your nightstand but you can't figure out what.

You shrug and go about your day, getting your binder and looking through the fridge to see what you can make with the ingredients you have. You find you like to meal plan, it saves money and gets you making dishes you can eat for leftovers.

You have almost everything you need to make one of Levis favorite dishes and make a note to do a small grocery run if you can't get enough carrots from your garden.

Even though Levi told you not to, you dust a little bit so you don't have so much to do later in the week and pause to pick up a picture on a shelf.

It warms your heart, this picture of you and Levi. He has a real smile, one that's generally saved for special occasions, but for you, always. His friends said he's never been so happy since he's meet and married you.

You feel the need to send Levi a quick "I love you" message randomly, which he's gotten used to and doesn't question if anything is wrong anymore when he gets it, but instead sends you one back.

You head outside to the garden to check on the carrots and other vegetables and go to remove your wedding ring before digging in the dirt and let out a gasp.

"Where is it?" You ask out loud to no one as you stare at your naked hand with no ring.

You frown and go back into the house to retrace your steps.

Did you have it while dusting? You look around at all the spots to see if you took it off so as not to get it dirty, but it's not there.

You look around the kitchen, by the fridge and on the countertops, but nothing.

You go to the bathroom. Surely you took it off for your bath? But it's not on the counter or the floor or in the tub.

Your stomach drops as you think maybe it went down the drain but decide that's overreacting.

You go outside on the porch. and look in the chair, on the table, all around the area, but cannot find it.

You feel yourself getting overwhelmed. If you can't find it, that means you lost it. Your wedding ring!

Heading back inside you sulk back into the bedroom and look in the nightstand and in the bed and under the bed.

At night you usually take it off so you don't accidently scratch it but you can't remember seeing it there today.

You sit on the bed and put your head in your hands. You feel your phone buzz and gasp at seeing it's Levi calling.

You debate answering or not. You could always pretend you were taking a nap when he called. That's more than believable.

By the time you decide to answer it goes to voicemail and a moment later you get a text instead.

"Brat? Are you ignoring me?" Brat. The word he uses when he says you're misbehaving.

"No sweetheart. Just didn't get to my phone in time." You message back, and it's not a lie.

But even through text you're sure Levi knows everything.

"Coming home soon."

You stare wide eyed at the phone. He's supposed to be working late! So you can have more time to look!

You jump up and start tearing up the house. You must find it!

You had it yesterday, you're sure of it. It has to be here!

Things are moved on shelves and the couch is pushed out of place and kitchen chairs are spread out across the floor.

Clothing is pulled out of drawers and things are moved in the closet and you search all over the garage, and still nothing.

You walk back into the house and look at the mess you've made and sit on the living room floor and cry.

You don't even hear the door open and your husband come in.

"What happened?!" Levis shout makes you cry harder. "Did someone break in? Are you hurt?"

He drops everything and kneels on the floor and hugs you as you shake your head.

"You're not hurt? No one broke in?" He holds your cheeks and tears fall onto his hands.

Would it just be easier to tell him that someone stole your wedding ring?

"N-n-no!" You sob as you tell him that no, this is all your fault.

"Love what happened?" He speaks to you gently and it hurts to have to say this.

"My wedding ring went down the drain!" You fling your arms around him and cry more, getting his shirt wet.

Levi rubs your back and smiles to himself, letting out a chuckle.

You push off of him and stare wide eyed.

He's so angry he's laughing? That's not a good sign!

Levi kisses your forehead and helps you stand and gets a tissue to dry your eyes.

"Stop your crying. It didn't go down the drain." He smiles at the silly thought.

"Well then where is it?!" Your voice is loud and squeaky but Levi knows you're just upset.

Levi digs in his pocket and pulls out a box and opens it.

"My ring!" You gasp as there it is, safe and sound.

"I left early today to have it cleaned, it's all nice and shiny now." Levi tells you as he holds it up. And yes, it's very shiny.

You frown and your lip quivers and Levi laughs again.

"I'm sorry love, I took it this morning. I thought you wouldn't notice. Sometimes when you lounge around the house you leave it on the nightstand, so I was hoping you'd rest up and not even realize." Levi tells you what the plan had been.

"You were trying to get me back, for last year." Your brain tells you that's wrong as you say the words anyway.

Levi sighs and looks at you like he's disappointed. "I most certainly am not." He takes your hand and puts the ring on.

"There, right where it belongs." Levi kisses your hand as you look down at it.

You close your eyes and sigh. "I'm sorry." You've finally come to your senses.

"It's okay. I should've just told you." He rubs his fingers along your palm.

You lean in to kiss him and he returns it gently.

You rest your head on his chest and hold out your hand. "It's very shiny."

You both laugh softly and share a sweet kiss, holding each other for a moment.

"Oh man…" Levi looks around the house and you're ready to cry again.

It's been turned upside down in your attempt to find something that wasn't missing.

"I'll help put it back together." Levi tells you, as this is somehow partly on him.

"I moved everything, even the bed. I'm sorry." You pout, rubbing your temple.

"We don't need to do it all tonight. Let's at least go put the bed back." He takes your hand.

You get to your room and can't even look at Levi as he sees the mess.

"I can't believe you made all this mess while I was working." Levi jokes as you huff.

"I really thought it was gone!" You cross your arms as he goes to push the bed back into place.

"I don't suppose dinner is ready?" Levi continues to joke, making you groan.

"You're never going to let me live this down." In ten years, maybe you'll laugh, but not now.

You clean up a little more, saving most for tomorrow, and make a quick dinner together before heading to bed, putting your ring in your usual safe spot.

Tomorrow you'll make Levi that dinner you had tried to plan earlier.

"At least I know you'll tear the house apart trying to find it." Levi pokes a little more and you roll your eyes.

As you slip into bed together you cuddle up close. "Of course, I love you."

He kisses your forehead. "And I love you."

You close your eyes and a moment later hear him chuckle.

"Down the drain?" Levi grins.

"Levi!"

#rei’s event: happy birthday Levi 2022 #yes i stuck a post it note in there!#attack on titan #aot #levi ackerman #levi #levi x reader #levi fluff #captain levi #levi ackerman fluff #captain levi ackerman #levi x reader fluff #levi ackerman x reader #fluff #gender neutral reader #levi x gender neutral reader

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tuttifuckinfruttifriday · 1 year

Text

You're mine, my bloody valentine <3

Pairing: The Voorhees family(mostly Jason x MJ)

Warnings: none? Just a lot of fluff ^^ and maybe a bit of ooc Jason for this since it's been a while since I wrote for those two >:), not proof read

Note: @randomly-a-fan I forgot to add the flowers Jason got MJ :\ sorry

Also, happy Valentine's Day to all my lonely people(we'll be lonely together<3) <:)), and to the ones in relation ships too

An almost silent sigh left Jason as he got up from bed, being careful as to make as less noise as possible as MJ was in the kitchen on the other side of the door. Since she had prepared Malon and sent her to school, she had gotten up earlier, leaving Jason to sleep in a bit since she know his perimeter check isn't in at least another hour.

Since today was Valentine's Day, MJ had gotten up earlier to set up the table with some cute heart shaped decorations, in hope that they'd put a smile on her daughter's face. They fortunately did. To add to those, she'd made some heart shaped pancakes for breakfast, and even shaped some of her food in her lunchbox as small hearts. She was pretty much aware that it was cheesy, but she couldn't help herself, plus, it gave her something to do.

Anyway, her murderous husband had planned one of the best Valentine's Day for her, and for Malon when she'd come back home later on. He had been very secretive about it, so he hoped that none knew what he had planned.

After maybe a good 10 minutes, he saw his wife pacing a bit, then go towards the coat rack, obviously planning to go out. As he carefully got out of their bedroom, after seeing MJ going out the front door with her coat on, he knew he had to act fast. She told him yesterday that she has planned to go do some grocery shopping as they are missing some things in the fridge, and she needs some more ingredients for something she wants to bake. Assuming that it was the reason she went out, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, the faint noise of their vehicle being heard from outside, now indicating that he was probably right about the grocery shopping. Knowing her well enough, he knows it'd take approximately around 1 hour, as the city is not too close to the forest, and since he knows she'll surely get distracted by the other stores around her. At the thought, a silent chuckle left him.

He had planned to make MJ a romantic dinner, then when Malon came back, they could go out to do some shopping since for a while, he had been saving some money to treat his girls, knowing both would like it. They could even buy one of those heart shaped cakes that they could eat all together.

If there was some money left, maybe he could look at something for himself. If he was being honest, he didn't remember when's the last time he bought something that wasn't for someone, and it kind of saddened him a bit. If only his mother saw him.... She'd scold him and tell him to take care of himself, to treat himself. But he just can't help it!

Jason started MJ's surprise by cleaning what little was left on the table and then putting a nice tablecloth onto it. He got out the pretty dishes they kept for special occasions, a plate and some silverwares in front of each of his and his wife's chairs.

...

His mind suddenly got blank as he forgot what he was supposed to do. It wasn't rare that this happens, with him being an undead being and all, his mind isn't the best. It was still very annoying, though.

''...*sigh*...'' He decided to pass some time by getting some things to make his wife a cute Valentine's Day card, not wanting to waste any time. He went to his daughter's room, then to Malon's desk in the corner of it and got some papers, pens, glitters, etc. He'd try his best, even though he doesn't consider himself an artist.

His large hands held up his homemade card as he let a small smile paint his face. He knew she'd like it, even though it didn't look as good as her drawings. The paper was plain white, and the front had glitter balloons (glued glitters in a spot, then drew the small balloons around the shapes) held by 2 silhouettes that were supposed to be him and MJ. They were almost like little stick figures, but that's okay. His silhouette had a small machete held up in one hand, the balloons and MJ's hand held in the other. He had also written ''Be mine.. My bloody valentine!'' the first part at the top, and the other at the bottom. Inside, he'd written something that he hope she would like, even though a part of him knew she absolutely would. He put the card in the middle, then got the idea that he could get her some flowers from the flower patch she loves so much... Until he remembered that since there's snow, there probably wont be any flowers. That fact saddened him, but he guessed that she wouldn't mind.

Jason, seeing how time flew and there's now only 30 minutes left to the hour he estimated she'd come back, started to get some ingredients out so that he could make some pancakes, knowing that MJ probably hadn't had breakfast since she had to make Malon's own and her lunch. Time was ticking as he got the stovetop burning, then put the pancake mix in a greased pan.

It was when he had finished the last pancake that his soul almost jumped out of him as he heard the faint noise of a car coming into the driveway. A quick glance over his shoulder let him know that it was MJ who was back, so he flipped the pancake, having had time to put it and two others onto her plate and three more onto his. They were a bit burnt on the sides, so he hoped that it didn't taste too bad. The car engine stopping could be faintly heard from outside as Jason got some toppings and put them in the middle of the table. There were some strawberries he had hidden at the back of the fridge, whipped cream, maple syrup and brown sugar.

The front door opened as he straitened the tablecloth and made sure that the plates looked okay.

"Oh my.... Jay!" His wife stood in the kitchen's doorway, two paper bags filled with groceries in her arms, her coat still on her back. She didn't have time to say anything as Jason went towards her, gave her a soft kiss on the mouth, and then took her bags to put them on the counter. MJ's pale eyes took time to take the small 'décor' in as Jason came back to her, a small but nervous smile on his face. One of his arms pulled her close to him as his other motioned to the table, as if to ask what she thinks of it. Her eyes widened even more as a soft smile came onto her face. "That's so nice of you, darling... Happy Valentine's day..." She gently cradled his face with both hands, getting on her tiptoes to give him another loving kiss, her cheeks hurting from how big her smile is. "Thank you sooo much!" She was totally taken aback by the small setup, but she loved it. "I love you" she gave him another kiss "so" another one "so" and another "much." She finished by kissing the tip of his nose, his cheeks actually reddening a bit from so much affection. He then put his hand over his heart, then placed it over where her heart is, his way to say that he loves her as he looked into her eyes. He only remembered the pancakes he had made when he smelt them. He guided her to her chair, pulling it and then pushing her gently towards the table. She gave him a big smile in response before both started to put their toppings, MJ telling him about what she saw in the city.

They then had some tacos, one of MJ's favorite meals. They made sure to keep some of everything and put them in containers in case Malon wanted some. Jason had given her the card he made just after, nervously looking at her as she smiled lovingly at the cover, adding an "I know I'm yours, silly! And you're mine too!" as she gave him a small chuckle and another soft smile as she read the top. That made his shoulders relax as she opened the card, reading the message inside.

I love you more than all the stars in the sky<3

Happy Valentine's day my love! xoxo

Even though the message is short, she couldn't help but to tear up a bit as she hugged her husband, giving him another loving kiss and an 'I love you too'.

They still had some time to kill until their daughter got home, so they took that time to cuddle on the couch while watching one of Jason's favorite movies 'My Bloody Valentine'. It wasn't that scary, so MJ enjoyed it quite a bit, even though she still mostly hid behind one of Jason's hands during the movie. The latter had happily let her, obviously not minding it one bit.

As soon as Malon came back, MJ told her about Jason's idea to go shopping. The girl obviously was in love with the idea since she didn't really go shopping, so they all gathered in the car and drove to the mall.

It was still a bit stressing for Jason to be out in public, but he cared less about people's glances and mutters as he held his wife's hand, his dark eyes roaming around the shops' logos. He got lost in thoughts as he tried to recall if he ever went to those stores with his mother when he was younger...

"Ooh! Daddy" Malon eagerly tugged onto her father's hand as she pointed into the distance. It took some time until Jason realize what she was pointing at, until he saw the big logo where it's written ''Build-A-Bear" He obviously couldn't not go into the shop as Malon had caught sight of it. He knew that if she didn't get a bear, she'd feel moody and he would keep thinking about it all day. The family walked to the store as Malon went off into the accessories for the teddies, a small excited squeal escaping her. Her mother laughed at her antics as she gave Jason's hand one last reassuring squeeze before both went after her.

Both MJ and Malon had gotten out of the store with a teddy bear. Seeing that his wife had looked longingly at the plushies , he couldn't help but to encourage her to get one, even helping her pick it's outfit. Malon had gotten a Jack Skellington bear as there strangely were still some horror designs. MJ had gotten a normal one, but had put a small green jacket on it and had even found it a small hockey mask. It couldn't be more obvious as to who she based it off of. She even called it 'Jay'! Jason had gotten a bit embarrassed as his wife had given him the biggest smile in return. "At least I'll have Jay when you're not there with me.." She'd told him as they'd gotten out of the store, her arm linked through his as she held a bag with both hers and her daughter's bears.

At the grocery store, they looked at the pastries and cakes, wondering which they should take... That was until Jason caught sight of a red velvet one behind the glass, so that was what they chose since MJ loves red velvet.

(Obviously, there isn't a piece missing x))

A gasp had left her as she saw the baker get the cake out. She kept gaping at it as Jason paid for it. All the way back to the car, MJ thanked him for that choice as he chuckled and smiled.

For the rest of the day, they all had some cake and ended up watching a fun movie, Malon then cuddling with her new teddy on the side of in her bed while Jason and MJ cuddled each others on the couch again, not even paying attention to the movie as they enjoyed being close to one another. :)

#randomly a fan #jasonvoorhees

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tatestripedsweater · 3 years

Text

Falling

Request: Can I maybe ask for a smutty but cute fic with Baron Zemo where the female and insecure, shy reader surprising him in lingerie and that leads to them having sex, maybe it's the first time for the reader? - Requested by Anon

Pairing: Baron Helmut Zemo x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Unprotected Sex, Some Overstimulation, Cunnilingus, Foreplay - Male Receiving,

Wordcount: 3.1K

Translation:

Kochanie - Sweetheart

A/N: I used polish for Sokovian as I saw someone else use it, thanks @mrs-march-ahs for the translation! I’m also using ___ opposed to Y/N as I find it looks neater, just thought I’d give a heads up.

This wasn’t the first time you had worn lingerie, in fact you often wore it to make yourself feel pretty. Even if you were the only one to see it.

“You know if you were trying to surprise me, you might want to hide in our bedroom next time.”

Once Zemo’s voice rang through the house, that was your queue to turn around to face him. A soft smile on his face showed that he liked what he was seeing. Red lace seemed to have done the trick.

“Just your presence alone is enough to turn me on, there’s no need to get dressed up for me. Even though.. red is certainly your colour.”

The way he was looking at you was primal. With Zemo’s nose flaring and jaw clenching, you could tell you were in for one hell of a night.

Both you and him haven’t shared more than a heated making out session, a few touches here and there but never full on sex. Zemo would be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about it, just bending you over the counter top and having his way with you.

But then again he wanted to make slow love to you, hear you mewl underneath him as you took every inch of his aching cock.

You watching Zemo slip his coat off before walking over to you, he was taking in your appearance. With his hands still cold from the air outside, when they trailed across the skin of your hips, goosebumps formed on your skin.

“You’re such a sensitive little thing.” Zemo’s eyes didn’t leave your body, his thumbs stroking your hips. “Such a beauty to behold. Too bad I’m going to ruin you tonight.”

Breath got caught in your throat from the words Zemo had spoken. The word ruin rang through your head. you couldn’t help but wonder what he meant, it was obviously sexual from the way his eyes were looking at your breasts. But you weren’t used to Zemo speaking to you in such a way, it was almost pornographic.

“I wore this for you. Only you.” You whispered as your eyes met his own, Zemo couldn’t help but feel his cock strain against his boxers. He knew you were a virgin, you made that clear on the second date he took you on. It didn’t stop the dirty thoughts that ran through his mind.

“Give me your hand.” He spoke in more of a commanding tone, something you were all too familiar with. With furrowed brows, you placed your hand within Zemo’s.

He traced your fingers with his own, making sure to leave a kiss on your knuckles before bringing it down. You soon felt Zemo push your hand up against his crotch, you being able to feel his cock against his trousers.

“Feel how hard you make me? There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about your body.” Without any instruction from your lover, you couldn’t help but massage your palm over the bulge he had your hand placed upon. “Oh Kochanie..”

The nickname made your cheeks go hot, he often called you that but the way it was coming out of tibia mouth now was sinful. Zemo had let go of your hand so you could work your magic, with him gripping onto the counter behind him. Your hand moved, starting to undo his zipper.

“Spit on it.” Zemo instructed once his cock was fully out of his boxers, them and his trousers around his ankles. “Let it fall from your mouth to my cock, then use your hand to stroke it. Use your saliva as lube.”

You did as you were told, with your skin going hot and you somewhat bashful. You let the saliva drip from your mouth and onto his cock, he was an impressive size. Nothing too large but not too small either, Zemo would fill you completely.

He guided your hand to wrap around his cock, your eyes didn’t leave his own. With a small nod coming from your boyfriend, you started to stroke his cock like he had instructed.

The wet sounds from your own saliva as you moved your hand, was enough to make you clench yourself thighs together. You could feel yourself growing wet as you watched Zemo, his head leaned back somewhat as he moaned your name.

“Good girl.” Zemo praised with a smirk, his chest rose and fell once you had started to quicken the strokes on his cock. All you wanted to do was pleasure him, to see Zemo cum around your hands; and in your mouth.

“Your good girl.” Zemo lifted his head to look at you as soon as you whispered that to him, his eyes had gone dark from how lustful he felt towards you.

The wet sound of you stroking your cock, along with the moans falling from his lips had you clenching your thighs together. Zemo watched your every move, his face never leaving you as you pleasured him.

He wanted to cum so badly, but Zemo wanted to save it till he was inside you. Fill you up with his seed, just the very thought forced a growl from his mouth. The way you’ll whimper as he fills you to the brim, you taking his cock like a good girl.

“___ Stop.” Zemo’s voice was stern but you furrowed your brows once he gave the command. Did you do something wrong? You tried to speak as you removed your hand from his cock, but Zemo had already interrupted you. “I want my cum inside you, I don’t want a single drop wasted.”

You felt Zemo take your hand and wipe it with the cloth on the counter top, chuckling as he did so. With past partners he had always enjoyed messy sex, so seeing the innocent look in your eyes as he cleaned your hand gave him nasty thoughts.

Zemo wanted to hear you scream.

“Champagne?” You watched him grab a glass from the fridge, Zemo always kept a glass for special occasions. To him this was one of them.

“Please?” Zemo couldn’t help but smirk at how small your voice sounded. He was currently half naked with his hard cock on show while he poured a glass for you. “Aren’t you going to have any?”

“Oh no.” He shook his head at your question to which you looked at Zemo, with a confused expression on your face. “You are going to sit back with your legs wide open, sipping champagne while I get a taste of that virgin cunt.”

Your cheeks had gone hot while he motioned you to sit on the sofa, your legs lead you there before placing yourself on the plush sofa.

“Here.” The glass was placed into your hands before he knelt on the floor, the sight of him on his knees made you smirk. He was a man with so much power yet here Zemo was, on his knees for you and ready to pleasure your cunt.

“Spread your legs Kochanie, I want to see everything you have to offer.” Doing as you were told, you felt your breath hitch in your throat as your eyes never left him.

The feeling of Zemo rubbing your cunt through your underwear had you mewling, the fabric rubbing against you mixed with the warmth of his hand.

Your clit was starting to swell from how aroused you were getting, which caused Zemo to toy with it as he moved your underwear to the side.

You had to move the champagne glass from your hand and place it on the table beside you, with your hands shaking you were unable to keep it still for much longer. A chuckle was heard from between your legs once he noticed.

“Too much for you hmm?” With a raised eyebrow, Zemo didn’t give you much time to answer before lips wrapped around your clit. The wet noise of him sucking onto it forced a moan from you, it was a sensation you haven’t felt before either.

Of course you had masturbated and got to know your own body, but it was like Zemo didn’t even need to ask what you liked. He already knew.

“Helmut..” You rarely called him by his first name, not many people did. But when you were the one to say his name, or in this case moan it. Caused him to grow even harder, if that were possible.

While his mouth and tongue went to work on your clit, Zemo wrapped his hand around his cock. He promised himself he’d keep his cum till he was inside you, he just needed to relieve some pressure that was starting to build.

The feeling of Zemo moaning against your clit as he pleasured himself caused a tingling sensation. Along with the tickling of his stubble on your skin mixed with him sucking onto your clit, you felt like you were in heaven.

If you died now you'd die happy.

Zemo felt your fingers run through his hair as his tongue applied some pressure to your clit, changing his technique from sucking to twirling it around his tongue. The feeling of your fingers in his hair caused goosebumps to form on Zemo’s body, the soft moans of his name made his cock twitch.

“I can’t wait to fill this pussy..” You heard him groan against your cunt, his tongue delving deeper and ran it up along your slit. Zemo couldn’t help but slide his tongue inside your tight hole, the sensation making you gasp in surprise. He only chucked at your reaction.

You could feel your clit growing more sensitive as Zemo moved his hand away from his cock, and onto your clit. He had the pleasure he needed, Zemo didn’t cum but he was done touching himself for now. Tonight was all about your pleasure and that’s all he seemed to be focused on.

Zemo’s thumb rubbed your clit in slow circles while his tongue wiggled inside you, just so he could get a proper feeling of what was going to be wrapped around his cock in moments time.

You could feel your body getting the closer you got to cumming, your hips bucked slightly which forced him to press down on your stomach with his free hand to keep you in place.

Zemo wanted you desperate and writhing for him, nothing turned him on more than a sensitive cunt. Giving you so many orgasms before sex that when he finally filled you with his cock, your poor little cunt was over stimulated from his touch.

“I’m not going to last long.” He could already tell from how swollen your clit was, you were more turned on than he had even imagined. Your arousal coated his face as Zemo continued to assault your cunt, he wasn’t going to stop even if you begged him too. He wanted you. He craved you. “I-I can’t..”

That’s when you felt you felt the knot in your stomach snap, the grip on his hair tightened which only caused Zemo to groan against you. He made sure to not leave anything to waste, making sure he collected as much cum on his tongue as he could.

“Divine.” Was the only word that left Zemo’s mouth as he eased you through your orgasm. Soft kisses caressed your inner thighs as words of praise were spoken. “You did so well, such a good girl.”

The only response Zemo got from you to show that you had enjoyed yourself was your shaking legs. He didn’t even know if you were even able to stand to make it the bedroom, your legs were practically like jelly.

With you panting softly, Zemo kissed his way up from your cunt, up your stomach and to your lips. Your cheeks went hot once you were able to taste yourself on his lips.

“Are you able to stand?” He whispered against your lips, it wasn’t like Zemo didn’t already know the answer. There was no way you were able to make it to the bedroom without some support, but he wanted to hear you say it. He relished in making you flustered.

“No..”

The next thing you knew Zemo had scooped you up into his arms once he was standing, his cock was leaking pre cum and as it ran down his shaft he placed you on the bed. Your eyes couldn’t help but go to his cock, Zemo was an impressive size. It wasn’t anything intimidating but you were sure you’d feel him in your stomach.

“Eyes up here.” Diverting your attention to his face once he spoke, the lust in Zemo’s eyes was evident. He was clearly holding back from bending you over any surface to fuck your brains out.

The scent of his cologne engulfed you once Zemo had moved on top of you. With your cunt aching to feel him inside you and the look Zemo was giving you, you couldn’t help but beg.

“Please. Please, fuck me like you own me.” You couldn’t believe the words that had left your lips, it wasn’t like it was even you.

A smirk graced his face. Making sure to situate himself so he didn’t crush you under his weight. Zemo moved one of his arms to rest beside your head, his other gripping his cock while your legs wrapped themselves around his waist. Almost like it was an instinct.

“You’re begging for me like a harlot.” A growl was heard from Zemo once he could feel how wet you were against his cock. The noise alone was obscene, the wetness of your cunt mixed with his cock running up and down your slit.

“Beg again.”

Whimpering under him, Zemo waited patiently. He could toy and tease your cunt all night, but he knew you didn’t have the patience for that from just how aroused you were. Raising a brow as he looked down at you, Zemo urged you to speak without even saying anything himself.

“I need you Helmut, please. Fill me with your co-.” You couldn’t finish what you were about to say, he had already thrust his cock deep inside you. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, it was more of a sensation you haven’t felt before.

Zemo made sure to stay still once he was fully inside you, his other arm moving to rest beside your head. Soft pants fell from the both of you, he let your cunt stretch around his cock before deciding to move. But once he felt your walls contracting around him, silently telling him to go on. He couldn’t resist.

His hips made sure to start off slow, Zemo watched your face for any sign of discomfort but all he saw was you in complete ecstasy.

“Good girl, you take my cock so well.” Zemo whispered before moving so his lips were caressing your neck. Your hands gripped onto his ass cheeks to pull him in deeper; if he was even able too.

“Faster..” He didn’t expect you to ask for that yet, but Zemo wasn’t one to deprive you from what you wanted.

His balls hit against your ass once he started to pick up the pace, your skin practically glowing from sweat. Zemo made sure to leave marks on your neck to show ownership, you were his and his alone.

Your hands moved from his ass to his shoulder blades, nails digging into his skin as he fucked you. Your cunt was warm around his cock while he filled you up completely, Zemo was like your missing puzzle piece but now you were together. One.

Moving his face to look down at you, Zemo moved one of his arms between your bodies and pressed his finger against your clit. The moan that escaped you was almost pornographic.

“Whoever you’re ready, let go.” The bed shook under the two of you as he thrust his hips faster. Grunts were coming from the man above you. and it only made your cunt squeeze his cock in reaction to hearing him. “Fuck.. that’s it. Let go for me, fall apart.”

Zemo kissed you as he applied more pressure to your clit, he was swallowing your moans. Desperately wanting every inch of you.

Your body went warm as your orgasm started to grow closer, your cunt contracted around his cock once more before you cried out his name as you came. Zemo had to hold himself from cumming just yet, since he wanted to ease you through your orgasm.

Panting heavily, he praised you while removing his hand from your clit to help you come down from your high. Zemo was still moving his hips but they were getting unrhythmic, he felt his hips jitter before coming to a hult.

“Fuck!” Zemo moaned loudly as he filled up your cunt with his cum, it was a feeling of his cock twitching and him filling you up was like no other. It was something you could get used too. You were willing to get on the pill or risk pregnancy just to feel this again.

“Fall apart for me.” Your tone was somewhat teasing as he came, repeating his words from earlier. Zemo couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh once he had calmed down, panting softly as he did.

Zemo stayed inside you as he looked down at you, each of you trying to catch your breath so you could speak.

The light from outside made your skin look like gloss, Zemo couldn’t help but stare at you in admiration. You were such a beauty to behold, yet he was the only one to truly see the beauty within you.

Once Zemo had caught his breath, he decided to speak. His brown eyes filled with love as he did so.

“Are you alright kochanie?” Zemo’s voice was filled with concern, even with his cock still inside you the first thing that came to his mind was your well-being. He would do everything in his power to make sure that you were safe, even if it meant hurting someone else in the process.

“I’m wonderful.” Once you had confirmed you were alright, he kissed you once again before whispering against your lips.

“Let me run us a bubble bath, we can finish off that wine you decided to waste earlier.” You couldn’t help but laugh, a smile graced his face as you did so. It was like music to his ears.

“Maybe some Turkish Delight as well while you’re at it.” You requested, with a nod he slowly and gently pulled his cock out of you. The emptiness now feeling abnormal.

“Anything for my love.”

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#marvel #marvel gif #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #baron Zemo #baron zemo gif #baron zemo imagine #baron zemo fanfiction #baron zemo smut

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333sth · 3 years

Text

dove. (frankie morales)

chapter i. previous.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n.

warnings: mention of ptsd/military service, language, violence, brief mention of torture/kidnapping, injury detail, fighting.

summary: frankie was going to propose, until dove found the ring and ghosted. even santi can’t track her down.

rating: mature. wc: 1.6k

Dove was a nickname coined by an old general during her training. He was a traditional man, though not disrespectful. It was a term of endearment that probably softened the influx of powerful women breaching into the male territory. He’d drawled, ‘I ought to call you Dove – I ain’t never seen a girl so swift, yet so fuckin’ lethal.’ She kept the boys in line too, he’d noted. When Benny got too reckless, or Tom’s temper ran away with him, she was the first to snap them out of it. In environments where peace was a very distant concept, she played the peacekeeper.

One time, during a two-month deployment in Nigeria, the group was shoved in the back of an ancient pick-up truck for six hours. Dove was wedged between Will and Frankie, sweltering in the humid air. The stale smell of sweat mixed with blood and diesel was permeating the air, and they were three hours from the nearest checkpoint. To pass the time, she asked them what they’d do if they weren’t special forces.

That was easy for Will – he’d be a teacher of some kind. Benny waffled about sports, making some brash comment about how he’s got to channel all his aggression somewhere. Tom and Santi couldn’t come up with anything that suited them more than the forces, which was not surprising. Frankie would still be a pilot somehow. Dove had never seen him more comfortable than in the pilot’s chair.

Dove dreamed of owning her own bar or café, somewhere relaxed and laid-back. A beach perhaps, somewhere quaint and peaceful, where the air is warm well into the late evening and the waves are gentle, collapsing onto the sand like white noise. She imagined the hum of conversation meeting tinkling music, beach lanterns dotted around the decking to cast an ambient glow beneath the stars. Maybe a chef on weekends could make bar snacks. Tom had snorted at that, throwing a jab about how she can burn the water they use to make their dried food sachets.

The men had recalled this conversation, desperately trying to fathom where Dove might have taken off to. It was met with an aching nostalgia for the type of teammate she was too. That conversation had been a tactic, a peaceful one, to prevent the terrible concoction of adrenaline, exhaustion and heat forming an argument in that truck. She was a natural tactician as well as a good friend.

Frankie had recounted each country they had been stationed and exactly how Dove had felt about them. She had loved Argentina, even when she got shot and Will spent three hours with his finger crammed in the wound to stop the bleeding. But she also liked Jamaica, Brazil and Hawaii. None of their contacts in the forces had any trace of her, not even Santi’s in South America. Her family were none the wiser – they brushed it off, her dad mumbling something about it sounding like her usual antics.

All he had was a scribbled note that read, ‘I need space. I’m safe. I love you.’ It was folded neatly in his wallet, like he was carrying the last piece of her that he had.

Mexico. That was where she was. A small town on the West coast that had enough life to keep her occupied, and the guarantee of anonymity.

If people asked, she was a retired nurse, which wasn’t entirely untrue. She told them she spent a lot of her career in humanitarian aid, to explain the occasional jitters on a rowdy Friday night and the nasty scars. There was a particularly gruesome one leading from the base of her throat up to her bottom lip from a knife fight. She told them it was shrapnel, flung from a collapsing building, and she was lucky it didn’t catch her jugular. The locals had gasped in awe at her heroism. She’d flinched against the memory of how her own knife buried into her attacker’s throat instead.

A few days into her move, Dove had found what could only be considered a derelict shed on the beachfront. It was probably the remains of an old boathouse. With some help from the locals, she had restored the ageing planks of wood. What was spare formed the bar and some rustic furniture. She pieced together a jumble of second-hand bar stools, chairs and lanterns that made for an eclectic combination. It had character and history in its walls, rather than some swanky, expensive build devoid of any personality. It was exactly what she had dreamed of, huddled in hypothermic temperatures or insomniac in her cot at base, sleep beyond her reach.

It didn’t change the fact that every time she entered her bedroom, the old polaroid of Frankie pinned to the wall hits her like a ton of bricks. Frankie knows she took it – it was pinned to the fridge at their home before she left. It’s quintessential Frankie, sat with his arms folded to his chest, biceps straining slightly against an old denim shirt that was getting a little too snug post-retirement. It was at a barbecue, his skin tanned and flushed from a day in the sun drinking, tousled hair peeking out from the sides of a dog-eared cap. Every time Dove glances at it, she wonders if he still has that hat.

‘Of course he has,’ the voice in her head snaps back. Any piece of clothing she’d suggest replacing would be countered with, ‘over my dead body’. The man was sentimental, a little too attached to his home comforts. She’d also bought it him in a seedy gift shop in the middle of nowhere as a joke.

“To add some variety,” she’d said. He would never let it go now.

Once, Veronica had eyed the photograph on her mirror and asked, “Who is he then? An ex?”

Veronica, or Roni for short, had lived in the town her whole life until university. When she graduated and moved home to save money, she needed a job. Dove needed a friend, so she took her on as a bartender. She was young and giddy, but harmless. More importantly, she was too self-absorbed to notice or even care that her thirty-something year old boss had bullet holes in her back.

“Something like that.” Dove had replied, rifling through her sorry excuse for a makeup bag. She’d closed the bar early to have a rare night off in the next town over, which had considerably livelier nightlife.

“You never talk about relationships. Or men.’ Roni observed, peering over Dove’s shoulder to eye another photograph. It was a group picture of the boys, huddled in the same fraying booth in their favourite bar back in Florida. “Looks like you were spoilt for choice.”

Dove scoffed, meeting her friend’s twinkling gaze in the mirror. “Shut your mouth. They were friends from work.”

“Were? Does that mean you can’t set me up now?”

“They’re almost twice your age. You’d tire ‘em out.” Dove set down the lip-gloss she dragged out for special occasions. “Come on, I’m not getting any younger either. It’s already passed my bedtime.”

Thankfully, that was enough to amuse the younger girl into linking her arm and hauling her out the door to the taxi, no more questions asked.

The hollering of spectators and thudding of skin slapping against the mat was reduced to a distant buzzing in Frankie’s ears. It was dimmed by the incessant ramblings of Santiago and Tom, discussing the files Santi had put together on Lorea. He could feel the reawakening of his rusty military senses as he follows the familiar tactics, mentally registering his agreement or noting what he might do differently. He doesn’t vocalise it though, because he hasn’t even agreed yet. Joining the debate would inadvertently signal his agreement. He didn’t want that.

There was a shadow lingering in the space on the bench beside him. It was an empty presence, not Will, who was hooked on the cage of the ring yelling encouragement to his brother. Not Benny, thumping his leather gloves together with his teeth pulled harshly over his mouthguard, judging his competitor with a predatory glint in his eye.

The opponent was a monster, but he lumbered like his limbs were filled with lead. Frankie notes that Benny, nimble and tall, will have a breeze tiring him out. Dove would have joked that it wasn’t worth coming, that they’ll be sat here until their asses are numb watching Benny play cat and mouse. His chest twinges. Sometimes it’s too easy to remember what she’d do, what she’d say. He wished he knew what she’d make of Santiago’s proposition. She always saw through Pope’s glamourisation and Tom’s greed.

What Frankie misses while he observes his pitiful surroundings is Tom and Santi descending into a hushed conversation. Tom nudges Santi, “You got anything on Dove?”

Santi sighs, long and solemn, “Maybe.” As Tom’s face quirks in interest, he holds up his finger, “It’s just a hunch.”

“A hunch is better than what we’ve had in the last year.”

Santi takes a sip of his beer, casting a glance at Fish, whose eyes are trained on the floor and the swirling contents of his cup. He knows him well enough to know his thoughts are the only thing that have his attention.

“I worry about him. We all do.” Tom whispers. “Getting busted just made things worse.”

“Don’t get his hopes up, man. It’s nothing solid. It’ll crush him if I’m wrong.” Tom nods solemnly before Santi continues, “A friend of mine saw an ex-Delta in a bar, a woman. He knew ‘cause of a tattoo she had on the nape of her neck.”

Tom’s eyes widen. In front of them, Benny lands a sickening punch on his opponent’s nose, complimented by an audible crack. He’s barely breaking a sweat, dancing around as the guy heaves and stumbles forward.

Santi’s gaze doesn’t break from the ring. “Mexico. I think she’s in Mexico.”

#Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier imagine #frankie morales imagine #triple frontier fic #francisco morales #Triple Frontier #frankie catfish morales #Frankie morales fic #Frankie Morales x OFC #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #benny miller #will miller #Santiago Garcia #santiago pope garcia #ben miller #dove fic

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copias-thrall · 3 years

Note

How would Mary goore react to hurting someone he genuinely cares about? I absolutely Love your writing!💕

Hello, nonny! Thank you, I love this ask!

This was going to be alist, but it got away from me! 😅

Enjoy 😘

It wasn’t anything big.

Just a few of Mary’s favorite beers (the craft kind—not the shitty beer he drank on his shoestring budget), some of that chronic shit you’d scored and have been saving for a special occasion, and a VHS box set of horror movie classics.

***

Mary comes in and out of your life at will, and that was something you accepted—knowing he was As Is or not at all. And honestly—no, really—you liked that. You had your own shit going on, and being Mary’s expected caregiver was NOT something you wanted to add to that list.

(If someone else wanted to try to tame him and pick up after him, well…kudos to them. Less work for you.)

Mary showed up on your pivotal days and he rubbed your feet and always invited you out to trivia. You'd held him when he was coming down from a bad trip and listened to his grievances and gave him a place to stay when he was persona non grata at his own. And in a way, that made you always feel like #1 in Mary’s world…and that was good enough for you.

***

A few months ago, Mary had been lying on your couch, picking the label off his beer bottle.

“I’m gonna be away for a bit,” he’d said.

“Oh?” you’d responded as you’d mashed the controls on your gaming controller.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ll be around…but I got some shit going on.”

You’d paused your game.

“Bad shit?”

He’d waved you off.

“Neg. Just tryna get myself out there. Signed up for open mics and shit.”

He’d shifted, his long legs receding from around you and folding under him.

“So, like…I got my job at the bowling alley…but nights and weekends are kinda shot.”

You’d tried not to let the disappointment show on your face. You supported Mary’s dreams, and that meant not making an issue that he was finally trying to do something about them.

This wasn’t against you. It was for him.

When you’d taken too long to respond, his face had scrunched.

“But if you want—”

“It’s fine, Mare,” you’d said as you’d made yourself smile. “This is important to you, so it’s important to me.”

You’d unpaused your game.

“Just don’t expect me to not beat this game without you.”

He’d grabbed the controller out of your hands with a snarl, causing you to cry out when you died.

“Fuck the game.” His hand had fisted your shirt. “Give me a night to remember.”

You had. Twice.

***

Mary had texted you occasionally over the next few weeks—a few memes, a few drunken key-smashes, a dick pic, and 2 grainy videos of his performances for critique—but such contact was sporadic, and you’d never seen him in real-time.

He’d blown in one night, five weeks in, with a box of pizza just as you'd been heading out to meet your crew. When you’d told him you’d made plans, he’d looked so crestfallen that you’d caved and canceled on them.

While he’d been there, he’d given you a date in 3 weeks.

“That Saturday I have nowhere to be,” he’d said as he’d chewed. “I can spend the whole day with you.”

You’d been careful not to seem too eager.

“Oh yeah? Should I plan shit?”

He’d crammed the whole crust into his mouth and had given you a doughy grin.

“Why ’’ya think I told you?”

You didn’t know what you’d expected, but when he’d had to bounce 90min later, you were still surprised. (That was hardly enough time to digest!)

“Sorry,” he’d winced. “I gotta be on a bus in 45min.”

He’d left, and you’d been too embarrassed to join your friends who were only just going to the second bar.

Having fun with your man ;) ? one of your friends had texted.

What do you think? You’d texted back before changing into your pjs and turning on Netflix.

***

So maybe you were low-key excited about your day with Mary.

Perhaps you’d spent those 3 weeks figuring out the perfect date—something that said, “I missed you,” without saying “But in a clingy way.”

Beer and horror were two things the both of you were totally into, and you knew he’d be exhausted, so it seemed perfect. You’d bought the boxed set off of eBay and splurged for expedited shipping; you’d borrowed your brother’s old dual TV/VCR from his college days; and you’d forgone your weekly Chinese takeout for the craft beer funds. (And if things got steamy, well…even better.)

***

A few days before The Date, you’d run into Mary on the bus. You were coming home from a shift, and he was going to his.

He’d brightened and waved you over—as if you weren’t already on your way—and you’d plopped down beside him with a tired grin. You’d told him of the latest entitled asshole, and he’d showed you another clip of him on guitar.

Before your stop had come up, you’d tentatively placed your hand over his.

“We still on for Saturday?”

He’d blinked at you a few moments before grinning.

“Yeah.”

“Should I plan a whole day for us, then?”

His arm had crept around your shoulders before pulling you into him to kiss your temple.

“Yeah, why not.”

***

That morning, you wake up happy.

Mary will be over soon.

You roll over and grab your phone.

When should I expect you? :-*

It takes him an hour to respond. You aren’t surprised—Mary isn’t known for being a morning person—so when your phone dings, you grab it up excitedly.

An excitement that dies when you read his text. And reread. And re-reread.

not 2day

goin upste 2 show

You blink.

What show? Didn’t we confirm?

yeah. got me thinkin

why no show?

so i chked

i missed one

gotta do it

Rage blooms hot, then cold behind your eyes and down your cheeks.

But you said we had the whole day. I made plans.

save em

ths is impt 2 me

We’ve had this planned for weeks.

i thot u suprted me

on a bus cnt tlk

You send a few more irate texts, but he doesn’t respond, and you toss your phone across the room with a shout of frustration. You scrub the hot tears from your eyes before they can fall.

And…on paper, Mary isn’t wrong. Nothing you had planned won’t keep: movies, beer, takeout.

But…

It gives you a stark look at what you mean to Mary. He gave you this date and confirmed it. He knew you were making plans.

How long was he going to wait to tell you he wasn’t even in the city anymore?

You fight the urge to kick the VHS tapes across the floor, but you open the fridge and grab a beer. If Queen Elizabeth could have beer for breakfast, then it was good enough for you.

Once you’ve downed all eight, you move on to the jug of vodka you keep for cleaning.

When you empty only liquid from your stomach into the toilet, you grab your frozen fries out of the freezer. You roll a handful of the cold ones in your mouth as you wait for the others to crisp in the oven, and once you’ve consumed the cooked ones, you go right back to the vodka.

***

Opening your eyes the next morning is a mistake, so you take a few deep breaths and go back to sleep.

When you wake again, your heart is fluttering, your stomach turns, and it feels like there’s an ice pick behind one eye. Shuffling slowly, you make your way out to your kitchen where you take some painkillers, drink some pickle juice, and eat two slices of plain bread.

The sense that you did something awful stays with you, but you’re in no condition to find your phone and see what you’ve done. Instead, you go back to bed. It takes more deep breathing to settle yourself, but once you do fall asleep, you’re out for hours.

You don’t feel amazing when you swim to consciousness again, but you feel at least like a human being.

Your phone is dead when you find it under the sink, and waiting the 5 or so minutes for it to charge feels like waiting to face the executioner.

It’s both better and worse than you expected.

You breathe a sigh of relief to see that there are no vague social media posts, and you didn’t drunk dial any of your friends, but…

The texts to and from Mary are ugly.

Apparently, you’d managed not to send him angry texts until he’d sent you another clip of his performing. But then the floodgates had opened.

You’d started with telling him you didn’t give a shit about the show, how he was an inconsiderate ass, and then you'd devolved into incomprehensible, typo-ridden texts that accused him of using you, that you were only something to do when he didn’t have anything better to do, that he was an entitled man-child and if he didn’t apologize, you were done.

Mary’s texts in response range from him being angry at your disregard, to heated retorts you were blowing this out of proportion (and he didn’t appreciate your “ad hominem” attacks), to a cool detachment that this wasn’t working over text and he’d finish this in person.

You put your head in your hands but are too dehydrated to cry.

***

Mary doesn’t text you again during his self-imposed time frame.

You don’t text him either, but that’s more out of self-preservation than pride. There’s no point exacerbating the situation…and you’re pretty sure there’s no coming back from this, so why speed up the inevitable?

The horror tapes taunt you every time you walk by them, and you wonder if you can return them (you can’t). You give the TV back to your brother, and when he asks you how it went, you plaster a smile on your face and say, “Great!” with forced enthusiasm you hope comes across as genuine.

The primo weed goes over to your friend’s house, and the two of you wax poetic all night about existential claptrap as you devour two cheese pizzas and a bag of bbq chips. You talk about Mary without talking about Mary, and you get a heartfelt, “Sorry, dude.”

You beat the video game anyway, but it’s mostly because you needed something to occupy your mind and less out of spite (though that’s there as well).

***

Despite waiting on tenterhooks to hear anything from Mary, you truly don’t really expect to. You know you’d been atrocious, even if it had been prompted by his careless disregard, and you know Mary isn’t really the kind of guy that troubles himself with relationships that are hard.

Not that you’re in a relationship.

So when there’s a knock on your door a week later and Mary’s behind it, you’re genuinely surprised.

You gape through the peephole in shock.

“Fuck. If you’re there, just let me in, ok?”

Fumbling with the chain, you unlock the door and crack it open.

“Mary?”

“You gonna let me in?” he rasps.

You shrug and step away from the door, and he shuffles inside. He looks around like you’ve changed anything (you haven’t), before turning around to face you.

You close the door and stare back.

He folds his arms. “Breaking up with someone over text is tacky.”

What you think is, So you’ve come to do it in person, but what you say is, “Can’t break up if you’re not together.”

He winces and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah…apparently I’ve ‘taken advantage' of you.”

This…isn’t what you’re expecting.

“I…what?”

“Can we sit down?”

You nod, and Mary sits rigidly on the edge of your couch. You curl up in the chair on the opposite side.

He rubs his palms down his greasy jeans before he speaks.

“I mean…you pissed me off, ok?”

You nod.

“But, like—you weren’t wrong, ok? I kinda knew that deep down, but I’m a dumbass, you know?”

You don’t nod.

“And I kinda bitched about the whole thing…but the resounding response was that I was the asshole.”

He angles his body toward you.

“I guess I’ve kinda been treating you like my best friend that I fuck sometimes.”

Your entire face flushes—you’d always thought you’d maybe ranked a little higher than that—and you duck your head so he can’t see the tears that you blink back.

There’s a swish of fabric, and you startle hard when Mary’s hand is at your chin. He jerks back with a Sorry.

“Shit—that’s not what I…” he blows out a breath and puts his hands behind his head before looking back up at you.

“But you aren’t, and…fuck this is harder than I thought.”

So this is it.

Waiting for him to do the deed is clearly going to be excruciating, so you take charge of this whole shit-show.

“I understand,” you say flatly.

“You do?”

“It’s ok, Mare-Mary. It’s my own fault for reading too much into it. I just…I saw what I wanted to see, I guess. I know you don’t need…” you look down into your lap, “…my shit in your life.

He makes a noise low in his throat, and then he’s squatting in front of you, his hot hands planting on your knees.

“But I want your shit in my life.”

You squint your eyes at him.

“But what I said…”

He grasps your hands in his.

“Pissed me off, yeah…cuz I wasn’t fucking thinking, ok? You’re like one of the only people who gives a crap about what’s important to me. And all I could see was you suddenly…not.”

Anger wells up in you again, and you yank away your hands.

“Weeks, Mary…weeks of you all over the tri-state area, and you thought I didn’t care because of one night?! A night you promised to me?”

He sits back on his heels. “I know…fuck. Ok? At the time, it just felt…like the show couldn’t be rescheduled. Our night could.”

Because you’re what he does when he’s bored.

You curl in on yourself.

“Shit.” He leans forward again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, ok? I’m fucking on my knees here.”

You blink at him.

What?

“Please, please don’t break—say we’re done.”

“What?”

“Look, we can go into my shitty fucking psychological profile on why I fuck around later…but right now I need you to know that I knew it was you before I fucking knew it was you.”

You uncurl.

“That…’what’ was me?”

He knees forward and presses your hands to his face.

“The one I wanna spend my free time with. The one whose opinion means the most. The one who was the first person I wanted to share all my good shit with. You’re the one I missed, and—after that awful fucking night—everything felt pointless because I knew I couldn’t come over and jam about it.”

“Mare—what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m a fucking dumbass. I’m saying I thought I was pissed at you, but I was pissed at myself for fucking it up.” He sighs. “I’m saying no fucking one was on my side and they all told me to get my shit together.”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, and for the first time, you can see how they’re outlined in red, his subtle crow’s feet more pronounced.

“So, you’re not done with me? I’m not…too much trouble?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “What? Shit, no. I’m asking you to not be done with me. I’ll give you all the nights you want. Fucking text me, and my ass’ll be here posthaste.” He shifts up, and his thumb ghosts over your lips. “Anything to get you to give me that secret smile again.”

“Secret smile?” you ask while trying to perform the action.

Mary actually blushes.

“Uh…yeah. You get this…” he makes a motion across his face, “…when you’re giving it back to me.” His fingers shove back through his hair as he casts his eyes down. “You don’t give it to anyone else.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve made a study of it.”

You’re a swirl of emotions. Mary’s apologized—has admitted he was wrong and has asked for…more—but you’re still hurt. And embarrassed.

But he’s looking up at you with wet, hopeful eyes.

“Do you…” you start carefully, “…do you know why I got so mad?”

That statement was clearly not what he was expecting, and he blinks at you a few times before nodding and looking down at the floor.

“I made a…uh, commitment…to you. And I treated it like it didn’t mean anything.”

He gives you a look like, Did I get it right? and that’s close enough—even if he’s missing some of the nuance.

You nod. “And I know I…wasn’t…the best.”

His face contorts, and your heart sinks.

“You…” he shakes his head. “You said some awful things…some hurtful shit—and it really got in my head.”

Mary gives you a complicated look.

“Shit that you’d been pissed about for a while.” He traces your knee. “Shit you could’ve said to me…but shit I should have noticed. Fuck.” He presses his forehead into your knees, and you can’t stop yourself from sinking your fingers into his hair.

He takes it as encouragement and presses into you before looking up again.

“I just kinda wanna put that whole night behind us. It feels like a fucking ouroboros of fault. And like maybe I created it. But let’s agree to like…not do that again.”

You look down at him, and his eyes search your face.

“Ok…but what does all this mean, Mare? I can’t…I need to be something to you, ok? More than just your friend.”

Mary nods emphatically, and he takes your hand and curls his into it.

“No more fuck-ups, and no one else…can we start there?”

He’s saying all the right words, but you’re still trepidatious—you know Mary, and he doesn’t like constraints.

“I…just…how can I believe you?”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe you even have to ask. He rises and awkwardly reaches out to touch your face before drawing his hand back.

“Cuz you’re important to me. I care about you, and I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”

And yeah. Ok.

#asks #mary goore #gender neutral #hurt/comfort #my writing #original post

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thegracelessfaceless · 3 years

Text

Sound Effects and Overdramatics (Ticci Toby x Nurse Grace) 12

Alright, you guys know the drill. I love you all, but under 18's, please see yourselves out. Also, starting next post, Reader will be called Grace. The pov will not change, only the name.

Link to chapter one -> 🪓

Triggers: alcohol use, nsfw, unsanitary, oral sex

The following are notes transcribed by the Coloeado Bureau of Investigation after they recovered a box of tapes found at the last known location of Tobias "Ticci Toby" Adams and his hostage turned wife, Grace Adams.

Toby really had pulled out all the stops for the night, besides the wine and food. He had cooked the most tender steak, and the crispest vegetables in a rich, buttery, slightly spicy sauce. He had gotten fluffy, buttery rolls and toasted them to golden perfection. After everything was cooked and plated, he pulled a premade butter rum cake from the fridge and carried it all over carefully. I'd tried to help him throughout the preparation of the meal and he wasn't having it, immovable on the subject. Toby could be very stubborn when he wanted to be.

I widened my eyes at the cake, "Toby, you know cake has like, a lot of sugar in it, right? You hate sweets."

"I don't hate them, I just save them for special occasions. If you don't have it all the time, you appreciate it more." he explained, cutting his steak. I picked up my fork and knife and started on mine, noticing he had given me the petite cut, knowing I wasn't huge on red meat. I didn't bring up that for most people, sweets were synonymous with icing, fruit, fillings, chocolate, and creams, and as far as butter rum cake went, it was a pretty tame treat.

"You absolutely spoil me, Tobias Adams." I kissed him before digging in. Toby had left the radio playing softly from the dresser, and had truly gone all out and lit enough candles to light the room softly, the candles filling the air with a lovely, green scent. It was all very romantic.

Toby and I had a glass of wine with our meal, but we both decided it wasn't to either of our tastes and switched out for water with dessert.

After freshening up a little, I met Toby at the foot of the bed on his knees. He hugged me and buried his face in my chest, kissing the tops of my breasts through my shirt.

I took his face in my hands and lifted it to mine and kissed him. He kissed me back passionately, and rose to his feet with the force of it, bending slightly to keep me from overextending my neck and cupping my cheeks with his calloused, scarred hands. His kiss commanded all of my attention and I was powerless not to give it to him, I wouldn't have wanted to stop anyway.

I molded myself to the front of Toby's body, wrapping my arms around his neck, and kissed him with all the enthusiasm I had felt today. Toby had created the perfect day for the two of us and with how he was kissing me, he wasn't ready to end it just yet.

I pushed Toby's black turtleneck up, one of many he seemed to have, and he pulled it over his head and let it drop to the floor. He quickly pulled my shirt out of my pants and unbuttoned it, pushing it off my shoulders and arms. Then he pulled my undershirt free of my pants too and pulled it over my head, dropping it behind me.

Toby's hands were on the buckle of my belt as he kissed me again. He made quick work of the buckle and the button fly of my jeans before he shifted his attention to my breasts. He expertly unhooked my front fastening bra and pushed the straps from my arms, removing it before capturing a breast in each hand. He knelt again and kneaded them as he drew one of my nipples into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, and lightly with his teeth before sucking. I watched him as he looked up at me and felt things tighten low in my body, and I moaned.

Toby came up to kiss me as he laid me back on the bed and I scooted up until my head rested on the pillows. Toby held himself above me with his lower body pressed against mine.

"I love you so much" he said happily as he looked down at me. "You make me feel so proud. I've never really felt that way."

"I love you too. And you make me feel proud too."

Toby leaned down and kissed me softly, then trailed kisses down my neck to my collarbone. He kissed lower and got a little distracted at my breasts, showering them both with attention as I squirmed beneath his lips. A pounding had started between my legs and I felt an urgency to relive it.

Toby hooked his fingers into my jeans and undies and pulled them down my legs as he kissed down my stomach, pausing just over my pelvis. Then he pulled back and stared down at the skin he'd just bared as I freed myself from denim and cloth with my feet against the bed. His milky eyes sparkled in the candlelight as he leaned down and licked a hot trail right up the center of me. Then he hooked his arms around my thighs and pulled me in to his mouth. I cried out and ground my wet sensitive skin into his tongue as he kissed me there like he had kissed my mouth earlier. I arched my back and let out a moan that caused Toby to let out an answering groan that vibrated through me as he explored me with his lips and tongue.

He was giving me just what I needed and it was building to a delicious crescendo. I cried out as I reached my climax and Toby hugged my thighs tighter, anchoring me to the bed as my hips bucked and I writhed against his mouth.

When I lay panting and dazed, Toby rose up, stripping his pants and boxers off at the same time and they hit the floor heavily. He gathered me into his arms and pushed into me slowly, kissing me while he still carried the taste of me on his lips. He groaned into my mouth when the two of us met, pressed as tightly as physically possible, and I ground my hips into his as I moaned.

Something scratched at the door, and I tried to listen, lowering my volume.

Toby did two quick thrusts that brought my attention back to him and left me breathless, then he raised up on his hands. He started a quick rhythm and looked down at me, "Don't worry. That lock is unpickable. I tested it."

His next thrust was hard and brought me unexpectedly. I saw stars. Toby grabbed my hips and rolled onto his back, pulling me on top of him. He kept hold of my hips and thrusted into me as I writhed above him, moaning. My concentration broke as a thump sounded from the door. I paused in my movements, looking back at it.

Toby rolled both of us over in a sudden, amazingly fast, fluid movement, which is harder than it sounds. He stayed buried inside of me in the process. I was suddenly on my back, staring up at him. My hands clutched his shoulders. I'd grabbed the only stability near to prevent myself from falling. Toby grinned at the surprised look on my face. "Good to have your attention again."

He rolled his body in an almost dancelike motion, and it curled my toes. He leaned down to kiss me, then nipped at my ear. "We'll handle whatever it is later."

Toby's rolling thrusts had made that pressure start building again, and the closer it got to bursting, the more Toby lost his smooth rhythm. He brought me with a gasp, hips bucking into mine and we both cried out together has his skin met mine one last time. Toby collapsed on me and stroked my hair as he kissed my temple.

"Gods, I love you, Reader."

"Love you more" I hummed, my breaths finally slowing.

"Impossible" he replied and slowly withdrew from me. He had to close his eyes in concentration as I fought not to squirm. Toby was spent, but things were still returning to normal size and the sensation caught my breath. He knelt between my knees for a moment once he was completely out, collecting himself. I had a feeling that Toby wouldn't be held back by limitations caused by sensitivity or stamina. His nerve endings couldn't send overstimulation impulses and he couldn't feel the burn of overexerted muscles. Good to know when there wasn't a mysterious thudding on the door.

Toby hadn't forgotten it and headed to the door while I relearned to walk on the way to the bathroom. I cleaned up and returned to find Toby sitting nude at the table, holding a pocketknife and a sheet of notebook paper. His expression was angry and I rushed over to him and read the paper over his shoulder.

"Ă̸̛̗̯̳̪̐͛́͜͝͠l̶̼̣̂͊̏̄̎͒̈́́͝ẅ̷̬̣̰͕̻̭̝̤́̏͒́͒̀̽̎͜a̴̻̞͉͓̾ỳ̷̞͉͇͋̆͊͘̚ͅŝ̶̩͖̪͇̮̺̤͙̣̈̓̈́̈́̔̚ ̸̛̥́͒̌̊w̴̡̬͓̼͇̗̲̱̳̐̈́̓̊̔͌͘a̸̢̛͖̘͂̉̀͆t̵͙̀̓͂̇͋c̸̢̺̱̝̗͎̘̀͆̽̂̔̈́̕̕h̶̢̡̪̠̩̩̖̯̻͈͑͛̑̑̽̏̀͑͘i̸̡͓͓̤̩͚͈̼̪͉̚n̶̛̙̩̮̫̯͎̖̠̲̒̏̇̽̎g̸̰̬͚̗̦͊̆̑̏" followed by a clock in deep red ink. The text looked unnatural and foreign but I could see English characters in the center of the jumble of characters that formed the chaotic mess. It reminded me of the radio transmission for some reason.

"That bitch just had to show up tonight" I spat.

#creepypasta #creepypasta smut #ticci toby #tobias andrew adams #NurseGrace #ticci toby x nurse grace #Sound Effects and Overdramatics #see no evil 🙈

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captain-mcdavid · 3 years

Text

alternate ending - pt.1

it’s been two years... josh and y/n have moved on and started new lives. but what happens when they find themselves in the same city working side by side? can they move past their previous games and reconnect? or will old habits die hard?

word count: 4.9k

smut: yes | no

warnings: swearing, alcohol

“Oh my god, please Thomas.” You groan, “Please, can you just be serious for one second. One second!”

He raises his hands in defeat, “Okay, fine.”

“Thank you,” You sigh, “Now go.”

“Wait, what am I supposed to say again?” He asks, and you and the videographer share a look before you roll your eyes.

“Bienvenue à nouveau, fans des habs.” You remind him. “On three, okay?” He nods, and you count down, smiling when it finally goes off without a hitch. “Alright now one more time, in English and then we can all go home.”

He nods, and then shoots you a wink. You shake your head at him, counting up to three for the last time.

“Welcome back, habs fans!” Thomas says, and Ted, your videographer smiles.

“Done.” He turns off the camera, and you give him a pat on the back.

“We really appreciate you coming in Thomas,” You say, “Thanks again.”

“Anything for you, Y/N.” He smirks, and then he heads out.

“Alright, Ted. I’ll see you soon,” You say, gathering your things. “Have a good night.”

With that you wave and head out of the arena. Setting your things in the front seat of your Range Rover, you grin, taking a minute to admire your new car. This was something that would have taken you five years to save up for with the pay at your old job.

It’s kind of ironic, where you were two years ago to where you are now... You didn’t like your job back in Ohio but you couldn’t say you ever saw yourself coming back to Canada, let alone working for an NHL team.

You thought you had it all figured out back in Columbus. But after your life took a nose dive you realized you really didn’t. A fresh start was what you needed, and luckily with your vast experience in media, you were qualified for a position that Seth recommended to you. A position as head of media operations for the Montreal Canadiens.

You were weary at first, because why would you want to work in the NHL after you had a huge falling out with one of the players, but the more thought you gave it, the better the offer seemed. It was in Montreal, one of the most beautiful cities in the world, the pay was double what you were getting in Ohio, and it would be a lot more fun.

Not to mention, there were 31 teams in the NHL, and if the one guy you were worried about did ever leave Columbus, there was a ninety three percent chance he wouldn’t come to Montreal. (Literally, you calculated.)

And now it’s been two years, arguably the best two years of your life. You have everything you didn’t have in Ohio; Stable friendships, a job you actually enjoy, a great support system. You’ve gained in every aspect of your life.

You’ve just walked in your front door, when your phone rings. You pull it out of your purse, laughing when you see your bosses name lighting up the screen. “It’s been ten minutes, Reid.” You say, and he laughs. “I’m off the clock.”

“I know, I know.” He responds. “I’m sorry, just this and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Okay, shoot.” You tell him.

“Tomorrow, media day, I split the players in half for you. We’ll do the first half tomorrow, and then the rest Friday.”

“Sounds fine to me.” You shrug, “What changed?”

“We have two new players flying in tomorrow, but they won’t be in until Friday. I figured instead of saving just the two newbies for Friday and rushing you tomorrow with the rest of the guys, we’d just split it evenly.” He explains.

“Oh,” You say, usually you found out rather quickly when there were trades and new acquisitions, but you hadn’t heard anything today. “I didn’t know we got any new players, trades?”

“Yeah, two trades. I don’t know much, it just happened. New guys are, uh- let me see...” There’s a fast beating in your heart that you haven’t felt for at least a year. When you first started, every time you heard about a trade you’d get a little nervous, cause what if it was him? Eventually those nerves went away, but they seem to have made a comeback all of the sudden.

You shake out your jitters while you wait for Reid to give you the names, “Here they are, first guy: Joel Edmundson, from Carolina.” You nod, it’s a name you’ve never heard before.

“Second, Josh Anderson, from Columbus.”

But that one? It’s a name you’ve heard all too many times.

Thank god you’re not driving anymore, because you’re sure you would have swerved into oncoming traffic after hearing that. You can feel a chill spread all the way out to your finger tips, a unsettling nervous feeling sitting on your shoulders like a goblin. This can’t be happening.

He can’t be coming here.

“Y/N?”

The phone is still held to your ear, but you can barely breathe let alone get a word out.

“Are you there?” Reid asks, and finally you manage to just murmur out a noise of acknowledgement, and then you’re hanging up, nearly collapsing onto the couch. You’re in full blown panic mode.

Within thirty minutes you’ve already fully played out scenario in your head where you quit your job and leave the city, move back in with your parents like a loser and remain single for the rest of your life. And it sucks, but honestly, it sounds better than actually dealing with this.

If you stay, and let everything play out, you’ll have to see Josh. You’ll have to talk to him, interview him, all while acting as professional as possible so no one figures out that you have history. Now that, that seems just about impossible.

In a haze you grab for your phone, searching for a specific contact you haven’t used in a while.

“Y/N, nice to hear from you! It’s been a while!” He says, but there’s a note of nervousness to his voice.

“Seth.” You scold him.

“I’m assuming you found out about Montreal’s recent acquisition?”

“Yup, sure did.” You say sarcastically. “Twenty nine other teams that he could have gone to, Seth. Why here?”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” He says, “Ninety three to seven, the odds were in your favor, but apparently you’re just really unlucky.”

“Super fucking unlucky.” You whisper, and you can hear Seth sigh on the other end of the phone. “Well, know of any other teams that are looking for media op managers? Columbus would be great,” You ramble, “There’s a really small chance he’ll come back, right?”

“Y/N, come on.” Seth says, “Last time I heard from you, you were loving it over there.”

“Yeah,” You admit, “I do, I love it here, but that’s all gonna change now.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Seth says. “You said you guys ended things on okay terms, if there’s no bad blood it shouldn’t be weird?”

“Okay terms is not good terms. He told me he’d wait for me to figure my shit out, and then I basically pushed him out the door.” You explain, “We haven’t spoken since then, there’s no way that this isn’t gonna end terribly.”

“You can both learn to be civil and professional,” Seth tries, “You shouldn’t have to give up your job because of this.”

“Yeah, well...” You sigh, shutting your eyes tight. When you open them again you’re kind of hoping you’ll be anywhere but where you actually are, with any other reality, but you’re just stuck. “I don’t really see another way this can go.”

“Don’t say that,” Seth whispers, “Promise me you’ll at least try. Try to make things work, don’t just give up before you’ve even tested the waters. This might end up being not even half as bad as you think it will be.”

When you don’t respond, Seth continues, “You love your job, you love the city, you have friends... You’ve built a life for yourself there and you can’t give that up over this.”

If it weren’t for those things you would have quit the second you heard Josh’s name, but Seth is right... You’ve worked for everything you have here. You owe it to yourself to at least try to make things work here before you give it all up.

You rub your temples with a deep groan, a dreadful feeling that you’re gonna regret this sinking in. But you sigh and agree anyway, “Okay. I’ll try.”

“Yes!” Seth says, “You got this.”

“Does he know?” You ask quietly. “Where I am? What I do?”

“No,” Seth answers, “I can tell him... If you want me to.”

“No that’s okay-,” You decide, “He should probably hear it from me. Thanks, Seth.”

“You’re welcome,” He answers, and you can’t help but smile a little. He was probably the one thing you actually missed from Columbus. “Will you call me in a few days? Let me know how things are going?”

“Yeah, of course.” You answer, “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

He confirms, and then says a short goodbye.

You hang up the phone, and then head straight for your wine fridge. There’s a fancy bottle of white wine that you were saving for a special occasion, and while it’s not the type of celebration you were thinking, it definitely is an occasion. You pour yourself a tall glass, grab a chocolate bar, and head to the couch to start overthinking.

Then you decide within the first ten minutes that thinking is going to do you no good, so you turn on the TV and grab another glass of wine, praying the alcohol will knock you out, because without it, there’s no way your brain will shut off.

After the third glass and your sixth episode of Schitt’s creek, you finally start to feel tired. Instead of going upstairs and going to bed, you just flop over on the couch, pulling a blanket over your body before closing your eyes, avoiding all the thoughts bumping around in your head.

They’ll still be there tomorrow you tell yourself, and then you’re out.

••••••••••

friday

You’re basically tiptoeing around the arena, sneaking players here and there to get their headshots, all while trying your best to avoid him.

Your plan is working quite well, you’ve manage to go over half the day without a run in. You’ve just finished with Shea, and you only have a few guys left, so you go for another stroll around the main concourse, looking for Brendan so you can get his goal animations done. You’re turning your head side to side, looking out for a short guy when you hear a familiar voice.

It’s been two years but you’d recognize it anywhere.

You freeze for a short moment before you’re all but throwing yourself into the room closest to you, which true to your luck, happens to be the men's bathroom. You twist the deadbolt behind you, staring at the door in pure horror.

It wiggles against the hinges, and then you hear him, “This one’s locked, man.”

You wait a good five minutes before you finally tiptoe out of the restroom, sneaking back to your office on extreme lookout. You sigh with relief when you’re in the constraints of your office. You’re finally safe now.

“Y/N,” Reid announces, opening your office door as usual, without knocking.

You give him a small smile, “Hey, Reid, what can I do for you?”

“I found the new guys for you,” He grins, and the smile drops from your face almost immediately. “They’re ready for their close up!”

You kind of feel like there’s a camera that you can look into like you’re on the office or something, because wow, what stupidly perfect timing.

Normally you’d have the mind to fake a laugh at his dumb joke, but you just shake your head in panic, standing from your chair as you flail your arms. “No-,” You start to say, but it’s too late.

“C’mon in guys,” Reid moves further into your office to clear the door way and you swear you could literally throw up on the spot right now.

“Reid- I asked Ted to do their media stuff-,” You try, but it’s too late.

They walk in, and you slap a hand over your mouth to keep from swearing loudly in front of your boss. That doesn’t stop Josh though, you can’t even look up at him, but all that comes out of his mouth is, “Holy shit.”

You nod your head, your hand slides up from your mouth to the side of your face to act as a shield, while you give Reid your fakest smile.

He furrows his brows at you, “Everything okay, Y/N?”

“Yeah, yeah...” You murmur, and you finally drop the awkward hand, crossing your arms with a huff. Your eyes stay trained on Reid, “I just um, I had asked Ted if he would do their media shots and he said he’d take care of it.” You explain, and your boss makes a face at you.

“Oh how come? Are you not feeling well?” He gives you an out before you can even think of one, and you jump on it immediately, nodding your head quickly.

“Yeah, just like splitting head ache,” You say, “Nausea, it’s gross. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asks, and you feel terrible because you know he genuinely feels bad, Reid is one of the nicest guys out there. “You can go home, you don’t need to stick around.” He tells you, and you give him an appreciative smile, refusing to even let your eyes wander to the right.

“That’s great, Reid. Thank you, I really appreciate it,” You’re about to drop, grab your bag and run out the room like the coward you are, but Reid motions to the boys and the overwhelming urge to throw up is stronger than ever.

“I’ll just introduce you, and then I’ll send them over to Ted, you can get going.” He suggests, and you nod, sucking in a deep breath. “You’re looking quite pale actually.” Reid notes, “Poor thing,”

“Anyway,” He starts, and you force yourself to turn your body to the side, but you still can’t find the courage to look up at him. “This is Y/N, our head of media operations. She deals with all the social media, the interviews and that kind of thing. She’s great, she’s a huge part of our organization.” You give him a short smile in response, thanking him with a light tap on the arm. “Y/N, this is Joel and Josh, they’re gonna be great additions to the team.”

“Joel, and Josh...” You respond quietly, extending a hand to Joel first, forcing yourself to make eye contact. “Nice to meet you,” You say, and then you move to Josh, holding out your hand to him too, repeating your earlier words firmly. “Nice to meet you,”

It’s like your body goes cold when you look at him, he hasn’t changed one bit. He looks kind of confused, but accepts your handshake anyway, nodding with an unsure stare. He doesn’t make any move to let go, so you do it for him, pulling your hand from his grasp in a hurry while you grab your bag from behind you.

“Sorry, Reid. Thanks again, I’ll be in tomorrow.” You tell him, and then you give Josh one last look, before heading straight out of your office.

Reid looks a little bemused, but watches you leave anyways. You’re basically speed walking out of the arena, trying your hardest to make it to the parking garage in record time, because you actually feel like the air in the massive building is getting thinner.

“You forgot this.”

And just like that your heart rate spikes back up. When you don’t turn, or acknowledge him, he whispers your name and there’s a second where memories come flooding back.

Your body is nearly frozen, you don’t think you could move right now if you wanted to. Josh comes to stand in front of you, and for the first time you’re forced to look at him. Really look at him.

It’s been two years but you’d still know that expression anywhere. He’s hurt.

“You work here.” He says, almost like he’s trying to convince himself.

You bite your lips sheepishly, and you can feel your resolve starting to crumble. You can’t pretend you’re not completely overwhelmed anymore.

“Were you ever gonna tell me?”

You find the strength to nod your head, but then a second later you’re shaking it to indicate that no, you weren’t. You hadn’t decided what you were gonna do yet, you knew he was gonna find out at some point, but you also knew deep down you were never gonna be strong enough to outright introduce yourself to him this way. You were just hoping when he did find out it wouldn’t be that bad... But here you are. “I was kinda hoping I could just avoid you.” You say honestly.

He looks tense, like he’s holding back words. When he speaks he’s quiet, and you almost miss the way he scoffs quietly at your response. “Avoid me... Are we really that-,” He stops, leaving the sentence open, because he doesn’t know what word comes next. Neither do you, but you understand.

You just look at each other for a moment, and it’s now that your emotions finally get the better of you. Tears well up in your eyes, and you just shrug at him, because you have no idea what to do.

“I love this job,” You say weakly, “And I love living here, but-,”

Josh shakes his head and you stop, waiting for his interjection. “But nothing.” He starts, and then he’s moving one step closer to you, and him simply subtracting another inch shouldn’t affect you as much as it does. You feel your knees start to shake, the tears getting a little bit harder to ignore.

“This doesn’t need to be weird.” He says quietly, “I don’t want it to be-,” Once again the words are left unsaid but you nod anyway, understanding. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You nod quickly, meeting his eyes. You can’t tell if the feeling is warm or cold, but it spreads through your body like wildfire within seconds. You wonder if he feels it too, if there’s anything still here after so long. He drops your gaze and holds your jacket out for you, you take it and then offer him a small smile, “Bye, Y/N.”

And then he walks away.

••••••••••

3 weeks later

“Habs reverse retro, um absolutely, I love these jerseys I think they’re really really cool, so I’m gonna swipe right on these.” Josh says, toying with the tiny phone in his big hands.

You step in with a chuckle, waving a hand at Ted so he cuts the video. “Alright, you’re done! Perfect,” You say with a laugh, and Josh finally looks up from the phone. You share a glance with your videographer, both of you exchanging a knowing grin.

“What?” Josh says, and you shake your head with a smirk.

“Nothing,” You murmur. And Ted starts to laugh.

“The camera loves you,” He says to Josh, “Almost as much as you love it,”

He raises his eyebrows at you, “Was I not good?” The corners of his mouth turn up slightly and you just shake your head, trying to hide your wide grin.

“No, no,” You stop him, and he looks at you skeptically. Finally you shrug and say, “Just maybe next time we do one of these you could like, I don’t know look up at the camera a time or two?”

Josh starts to laugh, and he shakes his head, looking down bashfully at his feet. “This is not my thing, you know that.”

And just like that, that stupid feeling is back. Out from the center of your chest all the way to your finger tips. It’s dull this time, but it’s there. You freeze, you’re really hoping Ted didn’t catch on, because you shouldn't know that.

You change the subject before anything can come of it, and thank god Ted carries on as normal. He didn’t seem to notice, he just flips through his camera bag as usual, murmuring about Shea’s video being even worse.

You’re not gonna give this anymore time to boil though, so you turn to the culprit, “You’re uh, you’re good to go, thanks Josh.” You say, scratching at the back of your neck.

He just nods, looking worried at first, but and then half smiles before heading out the door. Once he’s out of ear shot you sigh, grabbing your bag off the chair.

“Time for a lunch break, Ted?” Cause, wow do you ever feel like you need one. “We’ll film Brendan after?”

“Sounds good,” Ted smiles.

You nod and then head for the hallway, making sure to go the opposite way Josh did. If you have to walk the whole concourse so be it.

You shouldn’t be so skittish, you know that... But things have been good the last three weeks. You’ve managed to talk without it being horribly awkward, and no one has found out about your history yet. However, you’re not going to take any chances. The longer you’re in the same room with him, the more likely someone is to slip up, like Josh almost just did. You don’t need to spend a bunch of time with him, just enough time to get your job done. So that’s what you’ve been doing, the bare minimum. Talking only if you absolutely need to.

The habs were having a great start to the season, not to mention Josh was a huge part of that. He was having the best start of his career, and you weren’t going to ruin it.

You take a seat at one of the tables in the common area, pulling your book and salad out of your bag with a huff. You would really rather a burger and fries, or something not made up of 90% water, but it was in the fridge and it was easy so you grabbed it.

You stab the fork into the lettuce, pulling it up one time before you just shake your head and leave it in the container, prodding around at it while your stomach grumbles.

You look up from your book when your name is called, Joel and of course, Josh are sitting down at a table across from you, an obscene amount of boxed food in their hands.

Your heart is thumping rapidly in your chest, and you try your best to talk through it, raising your hand in a wave, “Hi, guys.”

“What’s going on?” Joel asks, “Hungry?”

“No but you sure look it,” You lie, nodding to the boxes they’re holding.

Joel smiles giddily as they start to open them up, you just grin and then go back to poking at your salad, trying not to pay attention to how good their food smells. You try to distract yourself with your book, but yet again, that doesn’t last long.

“Hey,” You look up, eyes meeting a complete stranger this time. “I was just wondering if you could tell me where the opposing team locker room is?”

“Oh, yeah!” You say, standing from your chair to direct him down the hallway. “You’re a player?” You clarify, just to be sure, and he nods. “It’s just down the hall and to the left. Past the equipment room.”

“Okay...” He says, and you stare oddly as he looks down at his feet and then back up at you. “Thanks,”

He has longer blonde hair, what these stupid boys would probably call a flow, and a long one at that, but he pulls it off. He’s got a nice face with a trimmed beard, and you can tell just from one look at him, swedish.

He stares at you for a moment and then chuckles uncomfortably, “I’m sorry, worst conversation starter ever.”

Your stomach knots when he says that, and you want to believe that the reason for it has nothing to do with that fact that Josh is sitting right there, watching all of this. You just smile awkwardly, “It wasn’t terrible? More the follow up that could use some work...” You joke.

“I just saw you sitting here and I thought you were really beautiful, I’m William. I play for the Oilers.”

Your heart is pounding in your ears, and although this guy is really sweet all you can think about is Josh sitting right there and hearing all this, but you try your best to smile anyway, not wanting to be rude. “That’s really sweet of you, thank you.” Maybe at a different time you’d give this guy a chance, because he seems quite nice. You briefly remember seeing a name on the Oilers roster for tonight, William Lagesson.

He’s about to open his mouth again, when a whistle from behind the both of you catches your attention, you turn to see a red head with a toothy grin. “Leave that poor girl alone, Laggy.” The red head snips, and William runs a hand through his hair nervously.

You laugh, trying to make him feel better, and he chuckles with a shake of his head, mumbling an apology for his teammate. “Can I maybe just get your number?” He asks, and you try not to look as surprised as you really are.

It’s been ages since someone asked you for your number, and apparently it’s been a long time since you said no too, because you completely forget how.

Your overwhelming urge to be nice all the time fails you here, and you find yourself saying yes even though you really don’t want to. He’s sweet and all but, you’d rather not do the hockey player thing again.

At the last minute you finally have the mind to put a fake number in, and you feel bad momentarily as he smiles and says bye, but as soon as you see the empty spot at Joel’s table, you just feel panicked instead.

Josh is gone... Does that mean he didn’t hear?

You pack up your things and then stop beside Joel, he side eyes you and then makes a face and you just frown.

“Coach texted Josh, so he wasn’t lucky enough to hear that whole thing... Me on the other hand?” He takes an obnoxious bite of his food as he shoots you a wink, and all you can do is roll your eyes, and walk away. “That was hilarious!” Joel calls behind you, and you just wave him off, but really, there’s some relief setting in when you find out that Josh missed that last part.

When you arrive back at your office, there’s a note from your boss, and a box on your desk.

“Head home early today. Boys will be preparing for the game. We can finish up on Monday. -Reid” Is written in his chicken scratch on a bright pink sticky note.

You do a happy little wiggle, and then reach for the box. It smells amazing, and your stomach grumbles at the thought, but then when you open it and realize what it is, you’ve suddenly lost your appetite.

It’s pad thai and spicy yam chicken... Your favorite.

You know instantly this isn’t from Reid... There’s probably only one person in the world who knows what your order is. You used to go to that thai place by his house all the time, and you’d always order the same thing.

You don’t even put your bag down, you just leave the food on your desk and turn the light off before walking out.

You try your best not to think about everything that happened today on your way home, because it felt like a huge step back after three weeks of progress.

You stop for some groceries, and take a look in a little boutique, anything to keep your mind busy. When you arrive home you play music almost as loud as it can go, hoping it will drown out your thoughts. Over the last three weeks you’ve done enough thinking about this, you’re tired.

So you workout, shower, make some dinner, and then you sit down to watch the game, pinching yourself every time you find your eyes lingering on number seventeen a little too long.

The game is pretty slow, the boys aren’t playing their best, Edmonton is on their game and you just know they’re not gonna come out of this one with the two points, but you watch anyway. You kind of want to turn it off and switch to something else after the second period, but you give in and stick around for the third.

All is fine and normal until the five minute mark ticks down on the clock.

The camera spans to the right to follow the players going up the ice, when you hear the commentator say, “Big battle, in front of the net...”

And your heart just about stops, because you have a feeling you know exactly who it is. Guess Joel was wrong... He did hear the whole thing.

“Anderson, and Lagesson, they’re still tied up together. Anderson is hot.”

#gpp fic #liv writes #josh anderson #josh anderson imagine #montreal canadiens #montreal canadiens imagine #nhl #nhl imagines #NHL Hockey #hockey imagines

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deadhumourist · 3 years

Text

Under Marula Trees

Rating: Mature (to be safe)

Warnings: Cursing, vague reference to shenanigans in the workplace.

Pairing: Jack Daniels X f!reader

Summary: You’re a host at an exclusive safari lodge and you suddenly have your hands full with a rowdy bunch of Statesmen.

A/N: Alright, so this is my first stab at writing in around...10 years? I know it’s going to be bad, and the dialogue is horrendous but I have to just bite the bullet and throw it out there. All criticism and corrections welcome, I am super new to publishing on Tumblr. I might change the title because I literally just made it up in one minute. This also starts off a bit slow due to world-building and creating the visual reference points. English is also not my first language so there might be gremlins.

I was so inspired by (and in awe of) many wonderful writers here, especially @yespolkadotkitty who drew first blood (tears rather!) with her beautiful work @sirowsky whose work I *inhale*, @asta-lily who is immensely talented and encouraged me to write a self-indulgent daydream (which is what this is), @honestly-shite with her immaculate writing and so many more. Thank you for sharing your incredible work.

Some notes:

This takes place in South Africa - fynbos is a type of indigenous plant type which is found in the Cape Region.

Marula fruit trees are found throughout Africa. If you have any questions please shoot, I am very friendly and would love to explain anything you’d like to know.

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

“Barry, I booked annual leave more than a month ago, you can’t do this. I...I've already paid for plane tickets, accommodation... a bloody phrasebook!” Your voice broke pathetically at the last part but you were going all in. He needed to understand how irreversible this was.

Heart racing, you waited for the staticky landline to crackle again. The phone lines out here were really not great and you were internally cursing shitty technology and your shitty boss and you swore to several gods that you were going to lose your shit if he went through with this.

“Y/N” He sounded tired, even through the poor quality of the call. “Henry is in hospital and this is a VVIP booking. No one else is available, what would you have me do?”

Your knuckles turned white around the receiver and you hissed “I don’t know Barry, that’s your problem. I’m not running Nimbali and if I were, I wouldn’t pick this moment to start managing a playpen for rich shmucks.”

You had a great relationship with your boss but he was plucking at your last highly-strung nerve. You knew the retort had crossed a line as soon as it left your lips.

“The guests are arriving two days from now...be ready.” Suddenly the phone beeped in your ear and the quip that had been flying out of your throat died at the finish line.

You stared at the phone.

“Motherfu….WHAT!?”. You threw the phone clean off the side table, making it wobble perilously. You were furious and had nowhere to channel the energy to, so you took to stalking around in your living quarters ranting to yourself.

“So Henry needs some minor surgery and can’t stand around smiling at guests? Like he does anything on a bloody normal day?. Oh noooo of course, let’s cancel expensive travel plans!”

Your anger made your speech lean comically towards hyperbole but you needed to seethe and get it out of your system.

“Did I learn Spanish for shits and giggles? Why yes it appears I HAVE, because OBVIOUSLY. I have the kind of time and money to just oh, I dunno” you threw both your hands up in an indignant gesture “rebook an entire bloody trip to Chile. That’s fine. That...IS...FIIIINE!”

You plucked open the door of your liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of craft gin that you had been saving for a special occasion.

You deserved to sulk properly, so you poured two generous fingers, adding a sad slice of lemon and flat tonic you fished out of the back of the fridge.

At least the view was nice.

You stepped onto the large wooden deck at the back of your house and inhaled deeply. The balmy air was fragranced with the fresh, herbaceous scent of fynbos. Stepping forward, you looked down onto the gently sloping valley beneath you; a panorama of undulations shaded in yellow and green, with the odd rock jutting out to pierce the smooth geography.

You could already feel some of your irritation dissolving into the breeze. The sun was dipping low, bathing the sky in a deep blush and indigo wash, and every evening you felt like you were seeing an African sunset for the first time.

Nimbali Safari Lodge had been your home for nearly 4 years now. Looking for a quiet place to finish your linguistics PhD, you stumbled upon an opportunity to live on the estate if you became a host. The job seemed too good to be true - a beautiful, cozy home nestled in an exclusive resort, majestic animals you could see anytime, and meeting new people from all over the world.

The novelty, however, wore off during the first year. The location and animals were indeed magnificent, but the guests were trying at the best of times, and downright unconscionable at the worst.

Guests normally ranged from prissy showbiz types who were more interested in sucking the bar dry and lounging by the pool than the elephants, to the rich and terribly spoiled who were only there to take photos with the animals to post to their socials. You had put up with a lot and could hold an infallible smile and professional veneer while doing so. That kind of professionalism was valued at this kind of lodge.

The lodge prided itself on meticulous attention to detail and an unforgettable experience of wildest Africa, all in the comfort of immaculately air-conditioned rooms and pristine, white linened luxury. Horse riding, an in-house spa, game drives and more. Every convenience was anticipated and taken care of, and no guest request was too much trouble. Discretion also meant that if the guest was the trouble, it would never reach the outside world.

You sighed. You disliked this group already. They were on your bad side for merely booking this week at the lodge. How DARE they. You groaned inwardly at the thought of catering to their every need while you could have...well..catered to your every need on a beach in Chile.

Preferably with a smutty book, a hot guy and a taste bypass.

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

You stood around in the lobby waiting for your VVIP group. After a heated call with a, in your humble opinion VERY unhelpful airline, you were in no mood. You stared unseeingly out of the large bay windows, past the tastefully decorated reception area with its large, comfortable leather couches and opulent lamps.

You smoothed out your outfit absent-mindedly. Although staff were required to wear khaki or beige uniforms (typical!) hosts had a bit more leeway in line with their status. The light cotton-like material of your deep khaki jumpsuit hung softly from your shoulders and cinched neatly around the waist, giving the impression that you were a guest rather than part of the brick and mortar of the lodge.

A loud bash yanked you out of your reverie, and you frowned at the main doors, which had swung open unceremoniously. Looking back you should have guessed that you would be saddled with the most raucous, ill-disciplined bunch for your sins.

A silver-haired man with a cigar dangling from his lips was deep in conversation with a younger man, who despite his impressive musculature seemed to have trouble walking in a straight line. Behind them a beautiful woman scuttled in heels, trying to keep up, and another man wearing the most ridiculous all-denim outfit with….with...was that a Stetson? In this heat?

You had to stop your eyeballs from rolling so hard that they would leave scuff marks against your sockets.

As the group made a (jagged) beeline for the reception desk, Stetson seemed to notice you out of the corner of his eye.

He turned lazily in your direction and came to a stop right in front of you. Looking you over leisurely, the right corner of his mouth pulled up in amusement.

It was clear at this point that things were about to go either very wrong or very humorously.

“Well Sugar there hello” he slurred.

Combined with a heavy drawl the short sentence was nearly unintelligible and you needed a few seconds for your brain to rearrange the words.

Misconstruing your confusion for incomprehension his eyebrows shot up to his hairline and he started gesturing, his voice now much louder and speaking slowly.

“HE-LO. My n-name (he plopped his hand on his chest) is WHIS-KEYYY. WHIS-KEY. What IS YOUR NAME (wagging a finger in your direction).

His adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he swallowed, waiting for you to magically understand him now that he has spoken the same language, but several decibels louder.

“Sir, I speak English. You don’t need to shout”.

Your clipped tone and disapproving look was rewarded with the widest, most delighted smile you have ever seen on a man.

This was going to be an interesting week.

Read Chapter 2

#kingsman the golden circle #agent whiskey x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #africa #undermarulatrees #pedro pascal characters #agent whiskey

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chxrrysangel · 3 years

Text

Stark Tea Time

Summary || Morgan Stark drags Bucky to one of her legendary tea parties, Sam leaving him to drown in pink fluff and glitter.

Warnings || Bucky actually smiles

You do not have permission to post my work anywhere else

“Lay up Cyborg, live a little. It’s not like I’m gonna di—”

“Look! Sam, I drew something for you!”

The two men’s attention is diverted from their conversation as little Morgan Stark comes barreling down the hallway, paper flapping in one hand and an assortment of crayons in the other. Her hair is covered in little butterfly clips, strands adorned with a wide array of colors from the chalk dye strewn across her cherry wood floors. She’s wearing a massive tutu, dressing to the 9s in a blue ballerina costume.

Sam smiles at the little girl, always excited to see what she has to offer. Ever since Tony passed, all of the Avengers men have taken on a father-like role towards the child, always making sure she feels loved and cared for. It’s the least they can do.

He bends down to her eye level, giving her his full attention. The smile on Sam’s face is in complete contrast to the grimace adorning Bucky’s features.

“What’s up sweetheart? Whatcha got?”

The little Stark giggles in excitement, overjoyed to see her two favorite Avengers come to see her again. They’re always quite busy, saving the world and everything. So each visit is quite meaningful to her. They’ll never replace Tony, but they ensure that his memory and love for Morgan is something she’ll never lack. They’d all die before that happens, and she knows that.

She takes the drawing from behind her back and lays it out for both of them to see. It resembles some sort of bird-like figure, Sam thinks to himself. Next to it is a robot-type figure, not failing to notice the frown etched into his features with a Crayola marker. Shaking with excitement, the little Stark looks at the two men expectantly.

“What is it?”

Morgan sighs loudly, annoyed by their stupidity and lack of “artistic vision”. The two men have yet to figure out where she learned such a concept.

“It’s you guys! Duh!” Their mouthes form into an ‘o’ shape in understanding.

“Well it’s stunning. It’s absolutely beautiful Morg. You know, I might have frame this one actually. When you become a famous painter, this is gonna be worth so much money!” Morgan squeals, jumping around excitedly as Sam praises her.

“I think it’s kind of ugl—” Sam cuts him off by sending a small electrical current to Bucky’s arm, causing him to hunch over in pain as he’s being electrocuted.

“What he was trying to say is that it’s very avant-garde, meaning unique in the art world. Don’t worry little Stark, it’s a good thing.” Sam smiles at her encouragingly, hoping Terminator’s harsh words back there wash over her. She nods in understanding, James’s words already long forgotten.

The two men attempt to continue their conversation from before, discussing details about their next mission. There’s a hostage situation in the Palace of Westminster, the perpetrators threatening to blow the whole thing up with everyone in it. But before they can really strategize how to scope out the place, Sam feels a tap on his leg.

“Yes princess?”

“Can you guys come to my tea party?”

“Actually Morgan, we have to go so—” Bucky starts to say before being rudely cut off my bird-man to his left. Sam shoot daggers in his partner’s direction and the words die in his throat.

“Actually, I have to go take care of something really quickly. But Bucky can join you.” At those words, Bucky’s head jolts in his direction, giving Sam one of the meanest looks he’s probably ever seen. But the big man is all bark and no bite, so Sam just laughs in his face. Bucky’s fists tighten at his sides, thinking of all the ways he plans to torture and murder Sam when they leave the Stark house.

Morgan, on the other hand, is practically bursting at the seams. Bucky doesn’t know this, but he’s her favorite of all the Avengers, especially because his titanium arm reminds her of her dad’s suit. She feels closer to him when she’s with Bucky. Plus, they’re both kinda stoic, but it’s only an act in her eyes. She knows that deep down, he has a heart of gold.

Morgan takes Bucky by the hand, dragging him down the hallway back to her room. Meanwhile, Bucky looks back at Sam, pleading for some kind of mercy or aid. Sam, of course, provides no such thing and only cackles at his best friend’s misfortune. He says goodbye to Pepper, promising to be back once he finishes talking to Torres.

Meanwhile in a certain Stark’s bedroom…

Morgan bounced from corner to corner of her large bedroom, capturing all of the items she needs for this special occasion. It’s not often she has a guest for her weekly tea parties, let along James Buchanan Barnes of all people. She has to make a good impression if he’s ever going to come back.

Standing like a dark looming giant,surrounded by tiny chairs and more pink and purple than he’s ever seen, Bucky is clearly out of his element. At 6’0 tall, he stands taller than anything in this room, standing neck and neck with the canopy bed in the middle. Morgan doesn’t take notice of his discomfort however, she’s just happy to have him. She whips around him, gathering her stuffed animals at the table and setting up the placemats for each guest.

Almost as if having an epiphany, the mini Stark girl gasps and runs out the bedroom, yelling that she’ll be right back. Bucky wanders around the room, taking notice of all the little trinkets and toys that he, along with the rest of the team, gifted to her over time. His lips contort into a ghost of a smile, reminiscing all the times Morgan screamed for joy every time they came bearing gifts. The gifts didn’t really matter to her, though. It was just their presence that set her heart into cardiac arrest and her cheeks aflame. They were her family.

Not soon after, Morgan returns dragging a more normal sized chair into her room. Bucky is surprised at this action, as the small girl is barely breaking a sweat. That is, until he noticed the two small gadgets attached the back of the chair, marked with Tony’s insignia. So little Stark is smart, just like her dad.

Morgan sets the chair down next to her own pink, fluffy and bedazzled throne at the head of the table. She sits down, motioning Bucky to take a seat and calls the tea party into session. Bucky’s eyes wander over the pristinely white tabletop, taking in the wide assortment of snacks. From shortbread, frosted oatmeal cookies, to cheeseburgers and mini sandwiches, you name it and she’s got it. The baked goods are Pepper’s doing of course, courtesy of her daily afternoon attempts to become the next Martha Stewart. Morgan doesn’t mind at all, eager to indulge in a daily sugar high as the designated guinea pig.

“Tea?,” the child offers, “it’s raspberry, your favorite.” James can’t help but blush as her consideration of his tastes. For a kid, she’s a pretty decent host. He quickly covers up his blush by coughing and nods firmly.

After filling up the China tea cups lined up around the table, Morgan moves towards introductions. “Bucky, these are my friends. There’s Mr.Whiskers, Genevieve, Fae, Natasha, Tony, and James. They’re very happy to have you here with us. They think you look quite nice today.”

James? As in… Bucky can’t help but blush again, honored that Morgan named one of her beloved stuffed animals after him. He smiles shyly, staring at the lavender Elephant across the table. The girl doesn’t fail to notice his smile, happy that he’s happy.

“So James, how do you feel about glitter?”

~~~

The doorbell rings sometime around 7:00, just after sunset. Pepper opens the door to a smiling Sam, carrying a mysterious box by his side. He just left Torres house, the two men agreeing to scope out the place just before dawn when everyone is still sleeping. That way, they can get a good picture of what it looks like on the inside without having to use night vision technology.

“What’s in the box?”

“Lemon Merengue. For Morgan.” Lemon Merengue is Morgan’s favorite dessert. So by bringing her some, Sam hopes that she’ll forgive him for taking a rain check on one of her illustrious tea parties.

“They’re still down the hall.” Pepper points in the direction of mini Stark’s room, before returning to her baking. Tonight, she’s trying devil’s food cake.

Even from down the hall, Sam can hear the chatting of two distinct voices, a deep scratchy one and a much higher, daintier tone. He shakes his head at Morgan’s complete lack of an inside voice when she’s excited. They must be having a blast in there.

To Sam’s surprise, Bucky actually seems to be enjoying himself. He stands in the doorframe, watching the two chat back and forth while a Disney movie soundtrack plays in the background. From the distinct piano, Sam recognizes Beauty & the Beast (also one of Morgan’s favorites).

Sitting down obediently, Bucky gives Morgan his full attention as she places puffy stickers on his titanium arm and adds little doodles to his real one. He smiles as he watches her drawing a picture of the two of them with princess tiaras and feather boas, just like they are now. She babbles away, telling him the details of the movie she wants them to watch together. It’s called Tangled, he learns.

Sam decides to leave the two alone, going back to help Pepper bake in the kitchen. Although, not before snapping a picture of the two together, reminding himself to print it and put it on the fridge. He knows that Pepper isn’t exactly the kindest person to be in the kitchen with, as she is very bossy and demanding. But he’d take that over ruining this special moment in the princess-themed room down the hall.

He can still hear the faint giggles and screams of Morgan, this time begging Bucky to stop tickling her. She pleads for mercy but he refuses to budge, only making her laugh harder and her giggles to bounce off the walls like they’re in an echo chamber. And to think, he was gonna say no earlier.

#sambucky #tfatws #sam wilson #bucky barnes #morgan stark #marvel #the avengers #winter solider fanfiction #tony stark #bucky fluff #pepper potts

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sweetestlamb · 3 years

Text

No Limits

Summary: Today's episode but minus the lies and with extra sexual tension but it gets resolved, somewhat.

Author's note: Today's episode called me a 🤡 too so in between writing my update for BMTL I wrote this drabble to ease my pain I love that the show keeps teasing us I really do it's delicious but I just wanted them to kiss sooooo badly today so here we go! I could keep going if people like 👀👀👀

P.s. Can an Italian tell me what exactly Vinny said to her in episode 3? Netflix says it was stupid idiot but that's stupida idiota and that doesn't sound like what he said to her in the clip. Help a writer out 🥺

She doesn't know if her father would be proud of her, or what she's been doing after turning away from Babel and reforming into a "good guy", it's borderline sanctimonious to consider herself a hero when she had spent most of the night torturing people. The ominous sound of toxic gas flooding the car still swooshes in her head, there was a moment when she'd truly considered going through with it.

Committing murder.

And he hadn't moved a single muscle to stop her, hadn't even uttered her name to pull her back in on the straight and narrow path to righteousness. In the end that had been enough to stop her, he trusted her enough to make the right decision. Every fiber of her being wanted to snuff out their lives the same way they had done to those innocent suffering families, but it was a line she couldn't return from. She should save it for a special occasion, they weren't worth tainting her soul. But there was someone else who was, Babo.

When the opportunity came, she wouldn't hesitate. Her father would have to look away because she wouldn't be stopping that time.

Before she realizes it they are outside her house, her late father's house and he's telling her good night. She'd ran out of excuses to keep sleeping at his apartment. Wanting to see him first thing when she woke up wasn't a reason she could say out loud to him, at least not sober. She was no longer scared of bumps in the night, being alone seemed more terrifying now.

"Drink with me." She whispers instead, falling back on a tried and true plan. They have become regular drinking buddies, using alcohol to cope and detach from the heinous things they see and do daily.

He looks over at her, wistful and searching before nodding solemnly. He unbuckles his belt and slides out of the car, though it is marginal she can see the hesitation in his movement and the night catches up with her. The blood is soaked into the pristine white of his collar, she recalls the hollow feeling in her chest when he didn't answer her calls and she was left with her torturous imagination. His possible death making desperate tears fall despite promising herself she wouldn't cry again.

She makes her way to the bathroom as soon as she enters the eerily quiet space, noticing the way Vincenzo peeks around the corner always on guard and she's thankful for his presence. With him, she's safe.

Pulling open her medicine cabinet she collects packets of gauze, a small bottle of antiseptic alcohol and a bandage, holding the small bundle in her arms before walking back to the living room. She finds him staring at the embarrassing photos of herself that her father had hung on the walls, she couldn't bring herself to take them down. There was so little of her father left.

"Don't let the hair fool you, I was still a heartbreaker back then. I had boys chasing after me." She lies with a smile and when he turns to look at her with those huge eyes she pauses mid step, his eyes survey her face in a distracting sweep before he smirks and walks away.

Maybe summer has come early, that would explain the sudden overwhelming heat that curls around her.

Shaking herself from her daze she calls out to him, "Hey! Come here before you bleed to death. I don't want the mafia coming after me."

The look on his face is his patent I'm going to refuse because I'm a pouty baby look and she intercepts it as she has become custom to doing, grabbing his hand and yanking him over to the kitchen table. For someone so intelligent he still hasn't learned that his refusals are futile around her.

"I'm fine. It's a shallow wound, it'll stop on its own." He argues and she wonders how many other times he has simply left a wound to fester and painfully heal on its own, was that his penance?

She shakes her head, "Why suffer when I can help you? Stop being so stubborn you're reminding me of a certain patient who you love scolding." He grows chillingly still at her words, and again a thought tingles in her mind that there's something she's missing but she presses it aside and pushes him down into the seat.

He doesn't put up a fight, going a little too easily.

"Open your shirt."

He stares at a point on the wall across the room, not responding to her command at all at first and then he looks up at her with dark eyes. She swallows deeply, raising a single brow.

When he continues to look at her without obeying her instructions she grows impatient, repeating herself, "Come on open your shirt I need to clean the wound."

Still he doesn't react and she carelessly tosses the supplies on the table, reaching out with steady fingers to unbutton his starched white shirt. He discarded the jacket earlier, so there are less layers obstructing her way. His face is unreadable as she grabs the smooth button and slips it through the hole, she gets two buttons undone before reaching the center of his chest and as if jolting back to life he suddenly grabs her hand halting her movement.

She stares at him in question, hands still on the button before he sighs at her, "I can do it myself." There's a tightness in his jaw that she can't explain and she has to stomp out the desire to run a finger across that sharp jawline.

"Okay. You do it."

Looking away she tries to give him some space but the sounds of him undressing capture her full attention and she feels her eyes shifting back captivated by the fluid motion of those dangerous hands. Knowing what they are capable of does nothing to douse the fire under her skin. Frustratedly he has a thin white shirt under the dress shirt and she can only faintly see his toned body through the material. She stares harder willing herself to develop x-ray vision, unfortunately those powers do no manifest.

"Surely I don't need to get shirtless right?" He inquires with a smug air and she glares at him, they've been playing this game for a while now. Longer than two adults should be as far as she's concerned.

In lieu of responding she picks up a fluffy cotton ball and saturates it in alcohol before dabbing at the blood on the nape of his neck, as she swipes higher he hisses at the sting and she remembers what her father would do for her when she was young and had scraped her knee. Leaning over his shoulder she puckers her lips and blows, cooling the burn.

She continues this until the cotton is soaked from the dried blood and alcohol and blowing one final time she draws back, this time she feels smugness simmering in her belly. His eyes are blown and pointedly looking away from her, she notices his tight knuckle grip on the seat of the chair as well.

"I'm all done." She announces moving away walking to the small garbage in the corner of the room. His breaths are loud in the quiet of the room, her heart echoes in tandem. Taking a deep breath she speaks without turning around, "You remember where the clothes are right? Get changed so we can drink."

She moves to the fridge to take out the platters of food they had purchased at the market earlier and the bottles of makgeolli, it was that kind of night.

He looks soft and harmless when he comes back out in a large knit sweater, without gel his hair flops across his smooth forehead and she's still not used to this sight, there's a level of domesticity that she's never had with another person. A man.

"I'll go change too." She whispers sidestepping around him, her hands brushing against his.

It's easy to get lost in their escape, slamming back gulp after gulp of the strong cloudy rice wine until her thoughts start to blur and she doesn't know what she's saying out loud and what's only privy to her brain.

When she hears herself monologuing her thoughts as she had ran into his arms in the underpass all she can do is scream internally, she can blame the alcohol but only for lowering her inhibitions really, it hadn't manifested the thoughts.

He looks stricken and oddly amused by her musings until she tells him to get up. That smile is wiped clean off his handsome face.

"I need to test it. Come on stand up." His reluctance is noted but unable to deny her once more he stands, a long suffering look on his face.

She tells him her plan, it sounds crazy even to her but for some reason he doesn't refuse or question her at all. Agreeing to all her stipulations and she's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially not an Italian stallion.

Ten seconds.

That should be enough to hold her over tonight after he leaves her alone. If she can't lay beside him she needs a tiny piece of him.

Taking a running start she dashes across the small distance, slamming into his hard chest enjoying the juxtaposition of his solid body through the soft sweater. He smells amazing, even without his clothes that expensive cologne still lingers on his skin and she nuzzles into his shoulder. Curling her arm around his body she drags him tighter against her chest, her nipples pebbling with the close contact.

It's been longer than ten seconds and she knows she should stop.

But she really really doesn't want to.

Twisting onto his other side she prepares to let go, already regretting it but her sober thoughts are now pushing to the surface and she realizes what this looks like. Peering up at his face she expects to see that unreadable face again, he's annoyingly good at hiding his true emotions it makes her second this all the time.

Her insides churn when she sees the very face she expected. So she detaches and takes a step back prepared to dismiss this whole ordeal, the words denying her feelings for him already on her tongue when the biting sound of wood scraping against the floor fills the room. Jumping a little at the noise she glances over to the direction of the sound and sees his hands holding the chair in a punishing grip. He immediately releases the object at her glance but it's too late, she's already connected the pieces.

"You're holding back." She confidently states stepping back into the space she'd only just abandoned.

She doesn't ask why, that much is all too obvious.

I didn't want you to get hurt.

Being with him will put her in danger she's seen enough mafia movies to know that friends and love ones are always the first to be taken as leverage. So he'd decided all on his own that this, couldn't be and she was better off without him.

"Stupid idiot." She tries her best to repeat those explosive words with the same emphasis he's used when he had spat her in face not too long ago, watching with satisfaction as surprise shrouds his face as the Italian glides off her tongue. She'd been practicing for a while now, mostly curses words.

Fanculo, was still a favorite. What a fun way to say fuck.

She doesn't give him a chance to question her sudden switch in languages, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer, even more so than the hug they'd just shared.

"We're supposed to share everything, even passion." She boldly declares watching with fascination as he still tries to hold on to his semblance of control, the chair squeaks loudly under his hold and she lunges forward putting them both out of their misery.

It feels like coming home.

If your home was a sauna built on an active volcano.

Unlike their hug earlier this time there's no hesitation as soon as her lips touch his liquor moist ones he's already opening up and devouring her tongue. His immediate response makes her hungry for more, peeling his lips open with her teeth she sucks the remnants of the wine from his mouth, eagerly lapping and searching for more. He grunts at the rough treatment but doesn't back off, rather he sinks those capable hands into the depths of her hair caressing her scalp as he tugs at her head, tilting her to the right and moving instantly to the left slotting them even closer together.

The sound of their kissing is messy and loud, echoing in the still of the night.

She breaks apart with sloppy pop, gasping for air and his flushed red face greets her looking every bit as wrecked as she feels.

"Already regretting it?" He teases with an edge that's a bit too real and she yanks him forward, pressing him down into the chair and crawling onto his lap, legs straddling his thighs and their cores meeting through torturous layers. She's burning hot and moist where he's aching hard and rigid.

"Regretting waiting this long." She replies in a clear challenge waiting to see what he'll do.

"We shouldn't do this, partners is enough. You're already in enough danger as is, if they find out that we're..."

He trails off unable to finish the sentence but his clenched jaw speaks volumes. She chuckles coyly from her spot in his lap.

"What? What are we doing? What do you wish we were doing Mr. Vincenzo Cassano? Fucking? " She grinds down into his groin simultaneously and instantly he grips her hips, halting her movement with a bruising hold.

"You're playing with fire." He warns her, she can hear the metallic click of his ever present lighter at his words.

She should be scared of him, he was a world apart from what she was used to even when she'd been working with Babel, manipulation and bribery those things she could do without batting an eye but murder and torture? She'd had never done anything like this before, never. Not until this Italian Korean enigma had walked into her life and shaken it up like a margarita in a mixer. Was she making the right decision? She had no idea, right and wrong had become blurred a long time ago for her. All she knew was that the idea of not kissing him for another second made her want to pull her own hair out.

"I trust you not to burn me up. Too badly."

His eyes flash dangerously at her words and this time he's the one to initiate this kiss, cupping her head gently and dragging her into a sweeter embrace, a simmering heat now licking at her skin. She moans softly as he slips a wet tongue into her mouth, stroking at her back before pushing his hands up the back of her shirt, his hands are sweltering hot on her naked skin and she arches at the rough touch. They kiss languidly breaking apart only to come back together, each kiss wetter and more mind numbing than the last. With soft suckles to her bottom lip he pulls away, she stares at his soft smile as she chases after his retreating lips. Not ready to stop yet. She won't be ready for a long time.

He glowers at her and she waits impatiently for his next move, with strong arms he lowers her onto the table dishes clanging as he shoves them to the side laying her down like she's his last meal. She expels a loud breath allowing herself to be placed on the table, gasping as he stands looming over her.

"I'm the one in the mafia so why am I terrified of you?" He whispers too honestly, looking devastated as he stares at her helplessly all too ready to bolt.

"You don't want to get hurt."

He stares at her with liquid eyes emotions all but spilled across his face, with a whimper he closes the distance between them once more with her guiding hand on his back, this time they meet in the middle surrendering to the flames.

#vincenzo #vincenzo cassano #hong cha young #the tension is killing me #I wrote something without angst for them #it's a miracle

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saikikissuo · 3 years

Note

For the model Saimami and Oumota au, do it. Do it you coward. Feed me with headcanons and I will slurp them.

smirks and rubs hands together

for oumota, kokichi is actually a semi-popular streamer who plays genshin and minecraft a lot

he’s popular because he’s deceitful as fuck on minecraft and he’s insanely good at genshin

electro user kokichi..thoughts

but anyways kokichi used to never do facecam but soon enough he started to warm up to the idea and later, he began to do facecam when he was comfortable :)

kokichi lives alone, his fans are aware of this ( thanks to a q&a )

but every now and then his chat would hear some shuffling around in the background and doors shutting and they’d be like Wtf

kokichi is like yeah my apartment is actually haunted

everyone just kinda brushes it off

until One day.

kokichi is playing genshin or whatever and his facecam is placed to where the door of his bedroom is visible

they’re chilling honestly. just vibing

all of a sudden the bedroom door opens and in steps this TALL DARK AND HANDSOME MAN

chat loses their shit because WHOOO??!?:?$:)3?

he’s stepping in to ask kokichi where his hair gel is. because he stole it of course

kokichi kinda regrets it because then he’s gotta play this off with his chat

it wouldn’t be THAT bad if the mysterious tall dark and handsome man didn’t go “thanks, babe!” before walking out

kokichi is sick and tired.

when he turns back to look at the chat they’re all going bonkers

you could really only see his legs and his chest, but it was still a stark contrast to kokichi nonetheless

kokichi almost blushed on stream. almost

“yeah guys that was uh. that was the ghost”

“..why did he call me babe? the ghost and i have a very intimate relationship that’s why”

later on twitter he reveals that yes, the ghost is in fact his boyfriend

and that just made everything ten thousand times more chaotic

“KOKICHI’S BOYFRIEND IS KAITO?? THE MAGAZINE COVER MODEL????”

“yeah poggers isn’t it”

kaito makes appearances on his stream and it’s so cute because he sucks ass at genshin but finds every discovery on minecraft amazing

“KICHI LOOK THE DOG IS FOLLOWING ME AROUND”

[ while killing creepers around their house ] “yeah, they do that kaito”

and now....saimami....

saimami have a slightly different story

rantaro games sometimes but he’s also just kind of a lifestyle youtuber

his channel is very diverse

he does fashion reviews, travel vlogs, and gameplays!

his travel vlogs used to include just himself, but for a while he settled down in japan because he was Tired so it’s been gameplays and fashion vids from there on out

he met kokichi that way, actually

anyways, before he officially settled down in japan he would make travel vlogs on visiting the sights and all that good shit

but after a while..there would be a special guest who would always hide his face when the camera was on him

they called him rantaro’s goth bf and he would always blush and say that they “weren’t wrong that he might be a little goth, but we’ll see”

rantaro would often play video games with his friends and on streams, he would pause for a moment to look off to the side and speak super softly

everyone thought it was so cute..like they’d never heard rantaro do that before until then and it would appear in rantaro compilations on youtube HAHAH

that’s how people ended up thinking he had a partner though, because sometimes he would just look away from the stream to mumble goodnight or to say bye

later on, he finally made it public that he did in fact have a partner!!

they had recently moved in together and thought it was only appropriate to tell the Fans

he had a boyfriend who said he was a little nervous being on camera so he would just. stick his hand in front and wave sometimes

“his name is shuichi, but save all the cute nicknames for me. he won’t be joining us that much”

“give me all the cute nicknames and call rantaro ugly ones he deserves it cause he ate the yogurt i left in the fridge”

he’d say hi and start little banter with rantaro on occasion but that’s kinda all they got

until...One Day

on stream rantaro was going over some recent purchases, showing off some new clothes and bla bla

what’s new though was that he said he had a new model to help him show off the clothes

he called shuichi in and turned the camera to face him wearing one of the oversized jackets he got ( which looked absolutely precious on him mind you )

once again chat went BALLISTIC

because??? although he looked different they KNEW who that was

shuichi saihara, also known as one of the most-appearing models for top-quality suits and other formalwear for multiple brands

alongside kaito he was one of the more popular models you see on magazine covers

rantaro’s chat was going BONKERS

“WDYM SHUICHI IS RANTARO’S BOYFRIEND.....”

“pain.”

“are we surprised. rantaro is gorgeous”

“i have seen two pretty boyfriends”

so on and so forth.

shuichi noticed all of the comments and laughed a little bit

mainly because he felt a little nervous but rantaro just told him it was okay

“this basically means they like you”

“oh..well..i’m glad. :)”

chat explodes with little heart emojis and kissy faces

everyone is in love with shuichi saihara. everyone

not to mention that he and kaito often appeared together

plus rantaro and kokichi would stream together sometimes???

everyone gets psyched whenever they stream together and it is so cute

unlike oumota, rantaro doesn’t intentionally fuck up shuichi’s vibe when he’s teaching him how to play a game

like genshin, for example

funny thing is, i think shuichi would immediately have better luck and would be way better at rantaro at some games almost instantly

“okay shuichi so to get all of them at the same time y-“

[ all of them are dead by the time he finished the sentence ] “don’t worry i’ve got it”

rantaro..is strangely endeared by that

i like to think that people often tweet at kaito and r like “when are we getting a photoshoot with you and kokichi!!”

and kaito is like “kokichi will step on my toes mid shoot and i will cry. i’ve given specific instructions to not let that man anywhere near our photoshoot locations”

both couples have their own kinds of photoshoots anyways

oumota takes photos of their vacations, going out to meet up with rantaro and shuichi during the summer time

shuichi takes photos of he and rantaro together while they’re baking and the final results

shuichi is not good at baking. rantaro is.

either way..oumota and saimami in this au are friends and they are BEST friends. no further comment!

#danganronpa #ndrv3 #shuichi saihara #kaito momota #rantaro amami #kokichi ouma #saimami #oumota #danganronpa headcanons #asks #model / streamer au

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elentiyawhitethorn · 3 years

Text

Love Is Near, but Danger Is Nearer | Chapter One

CW: none

AN: This isn’t a dark!fic, it’s just kind of creepy. Serial killer AU. There will be major character death. Read it. I swear it’s good.

879 words

Monday

“Just this morning, another body was found with identical DNA strands on the-”

I flipped off the television. Danny didn’t need to hear that kind of news. He was far too young.

“How was your day, Danny? Did you have fun in school?”

Danny grinned. “Yes, Mom. We got to color our own pictures today!”

I smiled. My son never failed to cheer me up. “Do I get to see it?”

Danny nodded eagerly and pulled a piece of paper out of his Cookie Monster backpack. Holding it up proudly, Danny displayed his artwork.

I studied the crayon drawing. There was the classic sun in the corner with several beams of light. Light green color made up the grass. One side was evenly shaded, but the other was a bit messier; Danny had likely gotten impatient. The same could be said for the deep blue sky, only throughly colored on the left. What appeared to be an apple tree stood on the right side of the page.

And standing in the middle of the drawing were three stick figures: two tall ones on either side of a short one. The short middle person, in a red t-shirt and blue shorts, was likely Danny.

“Who are those people?” I asked my son.

He set the paper on the table so he could point. “That one’s me.” As I’d suspected, it was the middle one.

“And this one is you,” Danny said, seeming to be expecting a thank you for being included in his masterpiece.

My lips twitched as I surveyed myself. I was wearing a red dress - possibly the one I saved for special occasions. “I look great, bud.”

Danny tried his best to be humble but he couldn’t hold back a grin for long. “You think?”

“I know so. Now tell me about the other person.” It was someone even taller than my depiction, wearing what seemed to be a black hoodie and dark pants of some sort. Likely a man, from the short white - silver? - hair and matching beard.

Danny looked extremely pleased with himself. “That’s Rowan.”

I blinked. The first time I’d heard of Rowan, Danny had mentioned him as someone he’d walked home with from school. The elementary school was just down the road, and the neighborhood had a lot of other students, so I let Danny walk. He was a bit shy, and I was pleased to find he’d made a new friend.

But then Danny had brought up Rowan more times, telling me about all of their adventures in the backyard. He didn’t elaborate much about it when I asked, but I started to have my suspicions.

When Danny had come down for dinner one night and told me he’d just played legos with Rowan in his room, I rushed up just to check, and sure enough, it was empty. Danny officially had an imaginary friend.

He was only six and I didn’t see any issue with it, so now that I was aware of the situation, I started asking how Rowan was and what the pair had done each day.

Drawing my thoughts back to the artwork, I was surprised to find Rowan looking a bit like a bank robber. Kids’ imaginations, am I right?

“He’s a bit tall,” I commented.

“Of course he’s tall,” Danny replied, as if I was daft. “He’s an adult, like you are, Mom.” He pronounced adult slowly, sounding out the new vocabulary.

I’d been expecting Rowan to be a child of Danny’s age. Most imaginary friends were, weren’t they? But that didn’t mean anything, I supposed. Since Danny wasn’t actually playing with an adult, there wasn’t any reason to worry.

“It all looks very good,” I said. I meant it, too. I loved when my son drew things. “Can I hang it on the fridge?”

Danny’s eyes widened comically, apparently shocked to be offered the honor of the fridge, as if it wasn’t already covered in his artwork. “Yes, please.”

I ruffled his hair and picked up the paper off of the table, putting a magnet over it. Giving Danny a moment to admire it in proper display, I reorganized the counter space in preparation for cooking before saying, “Why don’t you run up and do your homework? Dinner’s in an hour.”

At his age, homework usually consisted of a few simple math problems and a grammar worksheet for English class. It usually didn’t take Danny anywhere near an hour to complete his homework, even though he could get a bit distracted sometimes. Still, he enjoyed having some time to play before eating, and I needed the quiet.

A small sigh was the only protest I received before Danny grabbed his backpack and ran up the stairs.

I gazed after him, a bit worried. Even though I didn’t have an issue with an imaginary friend, I was still concerned about the fact he didn’t have any other friends. He’d had a hard time adjusting after the big move. After his father had died.

Sam would know what to do. I never did. It was incomprehensible to me how I managed to keep it together without Sam.

I selected a couple vegetables from the fridge to start chopping. And I didn’t think of Rowan once more that night.

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen

@story-scribbler

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

@infernoqueen19

#rowaelin #tog #love is near but danger is nearer #my writing

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bbangsoonie · 3 years

Text

tangerine guesthouse

member: haknyeon genre: fluff word count: 2,238 synopsis: on a healing trip to jeju island, you meet a guesthouse owner who goes the extra step to make sure you enjoy your stay.

a/n: happy birthday to our jeju boy, juhaknyeon ! 🍊

After impulsively quitting your job, you packed a suitcase and booked a last minute flight to Jeju Island. You wanted to escape but unfortunately didn’t have enough money for an international flight. So you found yourself flying over on a domestic plane.

Everything about this journey was spontaneous. The money you saved up on the side from your tedious 9-5 job was all spent on this healing trip. With nothing but a camera in your hands, you were determined to finally rest and have fun for once. You hadn’t had the luxury to do so in years.

Before you left Incheon Airport, you reserved a room at a random bed and breakfast you found online. “Tangerine Guesthouse”. It had a cute name.

The taxi dropped you off in front of the place and you cautiously walked in with your bag rolling behind you. You peaked inside the building, unsure if you were supposed to just enter.

“Hello!” a chirpy voice greeted you. Startled, you jumped as you turned around to face the person who nearly gave you a heart attack. Seeing him only made your heart beat faster. He was cute. Extremely cute.

“Are you here to rent a room?” he asked.

“Y-Yes, I made a reservation a couple of hours ago,” you pulled out your phone to show him the details.

“Ah, Y/n! Yes, welcome,” he beamed. “My name is Juhaknyeon but please call me Haknyeon.”

You reached out to shake his hand and were surprised to feel how soft they were.

“Allow me to show you to your room,” he said before guiding you upstairs.

The room was fairly small but cozy. It had everything you needed and made a cute space for photos. After Haknyeon left, you began to unpack.

You heard a knock on the door and mindlessly told your guest to come in. You looked up when they entered, surprised to see another male.

“Hello! I’m Sunwoo and I’m staying in the room next to yours,” he introduced himself. “I just wanted to stop by to say hi and get friendly.”

“Nice to meet you, Sunwoo. I’m Y/n,” you smiled.

“The other guests and I are gathering this evening to just chat over beer. Would you like to join us as well? We’d love to have you,” he said.

On a normal occasion, the introvert in you would have declined. However, you were on a healing trip and resolute about trying new things. So you happily accepted the invitation and promised to meet them in the yard at 7.

You had about four hours until then and decided to kill time by exploring the neighborhood. You enjoyed the change in scenery and the fresh air that Seoul could not offer.

You found yourself alone at a nearby beach and embraced the solitude. There were no managers yelling at you about deadlines or coworkers passive aggressively criticizing your work here. It was just you and the roaring waves. Grabbing your camera, you took a few shots of the salty sea. Perhaps you would return to your hobby and pursue photography.

You allowed yourself to consider it as an option as you headed back to the streets to look for a restaurant. You settled for the closest one and were satisfied with your choice when you took a bite of their seafood ramen.

You roamed around a bit more after the meal. You came across a souvenir shop and ended up spending a lot of time—and money—there. You certainly had a thing for cliche souvenirs. Keychains, magnets, mugs. You loved them all.

You came back to the lodging with a bag full of trinkets you knew you would keep instead of gifting. The retail therapy added a bounce in your walk as you climbed up the stairs. You organized them accordingly as you happily hummed.

You looked at the clock and saw that it was time to convene with the rest of the boarders. You threw on a cardigan before going back outside.

Haknyeon was by the grill flipping meat and Sunwoo was busy taking out the drinks from the fridge. You awkwardly stood around, not knowing where to go.

“Take a seat wherever you want,” Sunwoo called out.

Finding an empty spot, you sat down and looked around. The yard was decorated nicely to bring a nice ambiance.

“Hi, I’m Eric and this is Hyunjoon,” the guy next to you grinned.

You exchanged greetings with the two and introduced yourself. You had to admit it was nice to meet such amiable people.

The night went by with the five of you conversing over black pig samgyupsal and alcohol. Haknyeon was a big foodie, Sunwoo was a big tease, Eric was a big dork, and Hyunjoon was a big sports enthusiast. Hyunjoon came to Jeju to enjoy horseback riding and planned on dragging Sunwoo and Eric along.

“If you guys are down for some physical activity, I can destroy you in badminton,” Haknyeon suggested.

“Loser has to down a bottle of soju. Each,” Eric laughed evilly.

To make the teams fair, you were paired up with Haknyeon to play against the other three. He definitely proved his worth as the ace, easily winning 21-12. Sunwoo let out a scream, blaming Eric for his punishment suggestion. The latter tried to run away but was caught by Hyunjoon who handed him a bottle.

They all retreated to their rooms after fulfilling their penalty, leaving you and Haknyeon to clean up. The work was done relatively quickly and you made it back to your bed before midnight.

The next morning, you came out of your room clutching your Ryan doll that doubled as a pillow. You mumbled a “good morning” to Haknyeon who was preparing breakfast and chuckled at your appearance.

“Cute,” he commented on your tastes. You replied with a yawn, still not fully awake.

“The guys are probably gonna be hungover so I’m making some soup. I hope that’s okay with you,” he said.

He rolled up his sleeves before washing his hands. He then grabbed a knife and began cutting the vegetables. Your nose wrinkled at the sight of onions. You had forgotten to mention how picky you were. It was an embarrassing conversation to have as an adult. You had to explain how your childish tastebuds never matured while people let out an incredulous gasp. It was something you had to disclose every time you ate with someone new and it was honestly pretty tiring. People didn’t understand that you didn’t choose to be picky. Your tongue just refused the tastes of a lot of foods. It was more inconvenient for you than anyone else.

Nevertheless, you were excited to try the food made by the self proclaimed food connoisseur. You would just have to pick out the vegetables later.

The two of you decided to just eat together after the guys refused to wake up before noon. Haknyeon took a seat in front of you after he set the table and you thanked him.

To your relief, he didn’t seem so shocked by your childlike palate. He let the conversation end by saying something about respecting other people’s preferences.

Noticing your hair falling in front of your face, he got up to go look for something. He returned with a hair tie which he offered to you. It was just a courteous gesture but it still made you giddy regardless. The hair tie was probably just a spare left by previous guests but to you, it was a token. Something to remember him by.

“So, Y/n, what brings you to Jeju?” he questioned.

You’ve heard your name before many times in your life. Obviously. But hearing it from his voice felt different. The way your name rolled off his tongue made your heart skip a beat.

“Oh you know, just the typical “I wanted to get away from the city” trope,” you hummed.

“Classic,” he nodded.

After breakfast, Haknyeon volunteered to be your tour guide for the day. He showed you his favorite places in town and even drove further out to take you to the photo exhibition you wanted to see. You had a blast, taking a bunch of pictures to commemorate your trip.

When he asked why you used such a fancy camera and why you took photos of everything, you simply shrugged in response. Truthfully, you didn’t know why either.

For lunch, he brought you to a sashimi place where you bonded over a large platter of raw fish. Both the view and quality of the restaurant were amazing. And your company too, of course.

“Do your guests always get such personalized treatment?” you asked, raising a brow.

“Honestly? No,” he laughed. “I’m not that great of a host. Nor do I have the time and money to.”

“Then what’s all this? Today?”

“Hmm… I’m not quite sure.”

You left it at that and let him take you to an aquarium. Haknyeon had more fun watching you than looking at the animals. You were like a little kid in a candy store. Everything was fascinating to you.

The last time you visited an aquarium was for a field trip when you were in elementary school. It felt like you were going back to your childhood roots.

You made it back to the guesthouse in time for dinner. This time, you insisted on cooking. With the ingredients left in the fridge, you made kimchi fried rice. The smell lured the others down to join you two in the kitchen.

The rest of the night was rather uneventful, which you appreciated. You got to relish time just passing by. It was exactly what you came to Jeju for.

Back in your room, you connected your camera to your laptop to browse through the photos. Looking at them, you noticed that Haknyeon was in half of them.

“Maybe it was him I wanted to save in my memory,” you whispered under your breath.

Another week went by and you wished time would flow slower. Hyunjoon was the first to leave the guesthouse and it already felt a lot emptier without him. You hated goodbyes. You hated how all good things had to eventually come to an end.

The feeling made you cherish the remaining time you had left on the island. You spent your evenings with the guys and frequently chatted in the group chat with all five of you in it. You never expected to grow so fond of strangers you barely got to know. Haknyeon, in particular, had a special place in your heart.

He often took you out on what you liked to believe were dates. Under the guise of being your tour guide, he showed you the hidden parts of his hometown. Though he was slightly disappointed that your favorite thing from all the menus you’ve tried was the black sesame frappuccino from Starbucks.

“Really? Of all the things you’ve eaten and drank, you choose something from a chain store?” he had whined.

“Hey, they only have it here. I can’t get it anywhere else,” you defended.

He made it his mission to find you something local that would triumph over your love for the Starbucks drink. A close second was the makgeolli made and sold only in Jeju.

By the time Sunwoo and Eric left, you and Haknyeon had gotten extremely close. With him, it was so easy to open up and just be you. You practically lived in his room. You slept over after late night movies and cuddles.

Neither of you ever verbally defined your relationship. You were both somewhat afraid to ask what exactly you two were. Instead, you focused on each other.

“So you’re picking up photography again?” he asked with your head resting on his chest. The two of you were lazing around on the couch with a random show on for background noise.

“Possibly. It was always an interest of mine. I thought I’d get to have it as a side-job once I started working full time but I never got around to it. Trying to make a living was a lot harder than I thought it’d be,” you revealed.

“You definitely have the talent. I think you should take the opportunity and go for it,” he encouraged.

The idea lingered on your mind as the second week flew by. Your passion for photography had been pushed to the side as you struggled as a paycheck worker. You missed taking up odd gigs for extra cash in college.

On your last night at the guesthouse, you paused in the middle of dinner to stare at Haknyeon. The more time you spent with him, the more you didn’t want to leave. Changing your career path because of a guy was crazy. Moving to an island because of said guy that you only met two weeks ago was even crazier. But he inspired you to do what your heart desires. And that included being with him.

“What if I moved here to start freelancing? Publish that photography book I always dreamed of. Maybe set up my own studio one day,” you pondered aloud.

That proposition had many implications about the relationship between you two. He took a moment to carefully contemplate over it. Your heart pounded waiting for his response.

“If that’s what you truly want to do, I think that’d be nice,” he smiled, making your own face light up.

a/n: wow i was reminiscing my own time at jeju while writing this 🥺 and now, with this fic, i have officially written for all tbz members! :)

#the boyz #haknyeon #the boyz haknyeon #tbz #the boyz fluff #haknyeon fluff #the boyz haknyeon fluff #tbz haknyeon fluff #the boyz fic #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #tbz fic #tbz scenarios #tbz imagines #haknyeon fic #haknyeon scenarios #haknyeon imagines

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