#I didn’t want to read this chapter again

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile XVIII

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Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: Ah shit, here we go again. You are being better at controlling your spirits which is perfect to tease Alastor. This chapter my dears… Is a twisted smut. TW: Blood kink, knife play, choking, killing envy. Aren’t they adorably twisted for each other, huh? Well, I hope you’ll enjoy this chapter. As always, I’m not used to writing about sexual intercouse, I don’t really know what it is about, so please tell me if it’s just pure garbage. But I think I leveled up since the last one. Great lecture, my dears.

You put your suitcase on the floor, smiling with delight as Alastor was paying the cab behind you.  You were finally at Alice’s cottage, alone with Alastor for a delicious weekend. You tried to be subtle but today, you hoped to be the predator in this house. After John’s accident, you wanted Alastor to claim you once more. That’s why you prepared some of your best dresses and underwear in your suitcase.

 You entered the house, went straight in a bedroom and fell into the bed, smiling excitedly. You were going to enjoy this weekend so much you could feel your feet kicking the air.

“ Well, someone seems eager.” you heard Alastor walking into the bedroom. You smiled at him as he sat next to you on the bed and leaned toward you, kissing your lips while humming to himself. You pressed your mouth against him, feeling his body relax as he settled above you. You spread your legs so he could lay on your body, his head resting on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. “ Did you know, your father told me to be a gentleman this weekend with you?” you scoffed.

“ What do you mean?”

“ Seems like he is afraid I would… devour you.” you felt his lips turned into a wicked smile. “ Which I would never, right, dearest?”

You tried to hide your frown. Your father wasn’t going to ruin your perfect weekend. Alastor was okay with talking about murder but because your father said he couldn’t touch you he would listen? What games was Alastor playing? He never listens to anyone. 

But two could play this game

“ No…, Of course, you are a gentleman, right?” you kissed his forehead. “ Now, why don’t you let me change, I want to talk about our plan to kill our new target.”  You smiled as he kissed you softly, the noises in the room being your breaths. He lifted himself up from you before leaving into the living room.

You smirked as you undressed and then took your undergarment from your suitcases. It was red lingerie that Alice gave you. You’ve never seen a piece like this but it looked like a dress that seemed glued to your body. The dress was very short, stopping just before your intimity. You put it on and looked at yourself in the mirror, smiling. Now, just some light makeup upon your eyes and lips. You put dark eyes shadows and of course, a deep crimson red as lipstick. You smirked at your reflection, feeling so confident in yourself.

You put a long dressing gown on, even if you wanted to seduce Alastor you needed to be patient. He had taught you that, make the prey feel at ease before attacking. You let your hair down, they were getting so long but you didn’t wish to cut it. You winked at yourself before grinding in embarrassment. Come on girl, be confident ! 

You walked downstairs, trying to keep yourself warm, it was still winter. You couldn’t wait for spring. You went into the living room where Alastor was reading his notes, mostly for his next broadcast. You smiled sweetly, he was still the same boy who wanted to be heard. You sat on an armchair next to the sofa.

“ Well my dear, why the makeup?” he asked with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at you.

“ I was just feeling like it. It's a new product, do you like it?”

“ It looks perfect on you. Are you cold? I’m going to bring wood for the fire.” he stood up and kissed you on the lips before taking an ax and leaving the house.

You waited, sitting comfortably on your arm chair before Alastor came back with woods, already litting up a fire. He sat on the sofa, the closest he could from you and smiled.

“ Now, dearest. What do you want to talk about? You really seem excited, I wonder why…”

“ Well, we are going to talk about our next target, right? I want to know how we will kill him.” you leaned toward him with an excited grin. His smile widened before he started talking about multiple ways of killing the pig. You listened to him, smiling softly.

“ I have information on him, he asks for women to be brought to his bedroom. I heard he would pay the parents from poor families so he could spend a night with their daughter, the youngest being 14 years old.” he said as he gave you notes where everything he had found on the pig was written. 

“ What a pig.” you spat as you finished reading Alastor’s notes. “ How should we kill him?”

“ Well, in a week from now on, he will attend a big soirée. There are women dancing and singing, and most of the time he chooses one of his likings and brings her to his room. I was thinking of asking Mimzy to go there, but she doesn’t fit his tastes.” he sighed, taking off his glasses. 

“ Doesn’t Mimzy know other singers or dancers?” you asked.

“ They aren’t as talented as her, they wouldn’t even be able to perform on stage.” 

“ And what about me?” you bit your lips as you saw his head jerk toward you.

“ You? Dearest, this is not a stage like you are used to seeing. These women are almost naked, masked yes, but they dance to seduce men. You would have a standing ovation with your voice, but I don’t think you would want to dance like them. “ he said with a straining smile.

You tilted your head.

“ Perhaps, but Mimzy could teach me right? I might feel embarrassed to be almost naked but if I’m masked it should be okay. Furthermore, if he chooses me, it would be easier to kill him after he takes me to his chamber.” 

“ Don’t. Don’t say those words.” he said with fury in his eyes.

“ Come on, Alastor. I’m the easier choice to make. Alice could grant us an entry to those soirée. You would be my manager or something like this, and I would dance and sing, I’m sure he would choose me.”

“ He would recognize you, he already saw you with Alice.”

“ I’ll wear a wig. And with the mask, I don’t think he would recognize me. This is our best option.” you crossed your arms on your chest, leaning against the chair. “ Don’t worry, he won’t lay a hand on me.”

“ As if he would even have the time to think about it.” he spat, his eyes slightly red. You bit your lips, feeling a warmth in your belly.

“ Perfect, and I think I’ll use a spirit to keep him away from me.”

“ You don’t trust me to keep you safe, dearest?”

“ Oh, I do, but I need to learn, don’t I?” you smiled while taking Alastor’s hand in yours. “ We never know what could happen on stage. And I need to be more persistent when I try to keep the link with any spirits. Unlike you, my emotions can get the best of me.” you sighed.

He kissed the back of your hand while staring at you.

“ Whatever my lady wishes.”

You smiled softly at him before taking your hand back. You held your chin in your hand, thinking about a plan to force Alastor to leave you alone to have enough time to connect with your spirit. You blushed when you heard your stomach making a noise that echoed in the silent room.

You looked at Alastor who smirked at you.

“ I’ll make something light to eat, it’s not lunch time yet, darling.” he flicked your forehead before going into the kitchen.

Perfect!

You closed your eyes, trying to calm the excitement you could feel in your body. You rooted your feet on the ground, creating that hot thread that was wrapping around your body until you couldn’t hear the noise around you.

Yes, little lady.

You couldn’t move your body, which meant Papa Lega was possessing you. You asked him to give you the same spirits as last time. 

Oh, I was curious why you killed a rooster for me yesterday without asking for anything in exchange. Well, I shall invoke him. 

You felt your mouth moving, speaking something you couldn’t comprehend. You opened your eyes slowly and felt the familiar warmth behind your eyes-balls. It wasn’t as painful as the first time, maybe you were getting stronger? 

You closed your eyes when you heard Alastor coming back, laying your head against a pillow, making it seem like you were tired. If he happened to see your reddened eyes, he would know you were up to something.

“ Dear?”

“ I saw John, not too long ago.” you sighed, trying to contain your smile, you could feel Alastor’s body tensing immediately.

“ Is that so… What did he want?”

“ Well, he wanted me to marry me and to bear his children.” you heard a breaking noise. Did Alastor break something? You opened your eyes, and gasped as Alastor was staring at you, the mug in his hand broken, with hot chocolate falling from the broken cup. You could see his hand bleeding a little but he didn’t care. His eyes were set upon you, any kind of human emotion gone. His smile was still there, which was making the scene terrifyingly exciting. 

“ What did you say?”

You stood up slowly, as if making a quick movement would trigger Alastor. You took off your dressing gown without taking your eyes off him and was satisfied as you saw a glint back in his eyes.

“ I said, the only man I would marry is you. I said I was going to be your wife and bear your children.”

You felt his body relaxed as his gaze traveled on your naked legs, your round chest and your red lips. He smirked as he approached you, clearly wanting to tug you against him. Usually you would let him, feeling Alastor’s pride at claiming you was one of the best things you liked. But today, you would make him work for it.

You held your hand in front of you, with much force you intended because Alastor wasn’t just incapable to touch you, he was almost tugged back. You bit your lips as you saw him take a couple steps back, staring at you with his eyes wide open.

“ Darling, I hope you are not doing what I think you are try to do.”

You needed to stay calm to keep your connection with the spirit that was granting this useful power.

“ I did not finish talking, Alastor.” you walked toward the plate he brought you. He had made pancakes with the hot chocolate, which was thoughtful of him as always. You took the knife while staring at Alastor, keeping your shield around you. “  I said, you were the only man for me.” you slide the blade against your legs, never cutting the skin. You knew Alastor liked the sight of blood, so you would make him adore the sight of your blood.

“ I said I would be whatever you wanted me to be.” you moved the blade near your breast, watching as Alastor was staring at you, never blinking just like a predator ready to wait for his prey to make a bad move and then devour it. “ I would be the best whore in New Orleans if you desire it. Only for you.” You put some pressure on the blade, cutting you slightly making you bleed a little. It wasn’t very pleasurable but the look in Alastor’s eyes made it worth it. “ And if he wanted to separate us, I would kill him myself.”

You only had the time to hold your hand once more in front of you, creating your shield around you as Alastor ran toward you. He punched your shield with his fist just one time, staring down at you with a manic expression.

“ Darling, drop the shield.”

“ No. Remember, you are supposed to be a gentleman. My father asked you to be.” you tilted your head as you pressed even more pressure on your breast with the blade. “ I, however, never said I would be a proper lady.”

“ Don’t play this game, dearest. You are going to lose, just like any other games we used to play when we were younger.”

“ Try me.”

You looked at him as he took a step back, his eyes becoming red, the same color as your eyes. You didn’t care, you were working with Papa Legba, he was at his most powerful when it was daytime, just like right now. You wouldn’t lose. You just needed to stay calm.

You watched as Alastor’s shadow began to move away from your soon to be husband. It was smiling creepily at you, almost mockingly. You gasped as you saw it rushed toward you. Would your shield stop a shadow? You didn’t want to lose right away. You jumped around the sofa, running toward the kitchen, already hearing Alastor behind you. 

You held your hand in front of you, pushing away Alastor who was already near enough to almost catch your arms. You smiled, delighted at his face. He was breathing hard, his eyes were no longer warm chocolate but bloody red. His smile was so big you were afraid it would begin to bleed. You step back, the only thing separating you was the dinner table already set with all the cutlery. 

“ Darling, light of my light, curse of my sanity. Come here.”

“ Why should I?” you grinned, tilting your head.

“ You used your shield even though I told you to never use it to separate myself from you.” he grinned, even though his gaze was menacing. 

“ I would never, isn’t it just you who isn’t capable of catching me? Was that luck last time?” you grinned at him before being startled by a touch on your naked ankles. You looked down at your feet and gasped as Alastor’s shadow gave you a hideous smile, holding your ankles with its hand. “ Fuck!” You held your hand toward it, repulsing it but before you could be proud of yourself, you heard shattering noises. 

Before you knew what was going on, you were pinning against the table, all the cutlery broken on the floor, you wrist pinned on the table near your head as Alastor was above you with a mocking smile.

“ You were saying?” he mocked you, tilting his head.

You forced on your wrist, trying to break free as Alastor was settling between your thighs. You could feel anger inside you, you were doing so great! You wanted to play longer. But you could feel the link with your spirit shake as your anger was taking control of you. You needed to calm down or you would lose the game completely. 

“ You look beautiful like this.” he said before taking the knife from your hand. You gasped as he licked the sharp edge of the blade, still with your blood on it. You felt something cold grip your hands and when you tilted your head back, you could see Aalstor’s shadow caging your wrists, making Alastor capable of using both of his hands.

“ Two against one? You are being unfair.”

“ I never said I would play fair with you. And, you aren’t playing alone right? You have your own spirit with you. It’s not my fault if you can’t control it perfectly, dearest.” he taunted you as he slid the blade against your lingerie. He leaned toward you, inhaling your scent. “ Now that I caught you, I can do anything I want, right, dearest…”

You could feel yourself becoming light headed as you were surrounded by Alastor’s scent and warmth. You just nodded, kissing the top of his head. You squealed as you felt the blade against your naked thigh. You saw Alastor staring at your eyes, his red eyes which were shining with insanity for you. Just for you.

“ If you don’t want it, mon coeur, just call that bastard’s name. Trust me, I’ll stop.”

You bit your lips. Was he talking about John? You just nodded before sighing in bliss as you felt the blade caress your shivering skin. You didn’t know why, but when Alastor was holding the blade, you could only feel pleasure. You tilted your head back as you felt the knife cutting your lingerie from your navel to the top of your breast. 

You moaned as Alastor licked the bleeding cut you made on yourself, right above your nipple. You squeezed his waist between your thighs as he bit your chest, before taking your nipple in his mouth.  The blade was caressing your throat, making you tremble with need. 

Gosh, were you crazy for enjoying this?

You arched your back as Alastor bit on your nipple, tugging at it between his lips.You moaned his name, bucking against his pelvis. You felt warmth in your belly and on your cheeks as you felt his harden shaft against your panty.

“ I want to carve my name on you..” he sighed against your chest as he played with the knife between his skilled fingers. “ Just carving a rune that would be ours—”

“ Do it.” 

You felt him freeze before he let your nipple go and stared at you, his eyes wide. You were wondering what he was thinking. Did he think you were mad? As crazy as him? More? You smiled softly at him.

“ I want you to carve yourself in me.” you moaned.

Alastor tilted his head back, roaring with laughter and before you could ask him anything he was kissing you madly. You kissed him with all the emotions you were feeling, you felt like you were drowning, you felt like dying, you felt alive. You tried to kiss him once more as he stepped back and bringed the knife close to your chest. He was smiling like crazy as he dug the blade against your skin. You arched your back, sighing in bliss. He wasn’t cutting very deep, just enough to make you bleed.

“ You are indescriptible, my dearest. You have me under your spell, robbing me of my thoughts and my sanity.” He was breathing as hard as you as his gaze wasn’t moving from you. “ How did I deserve such a beautiful fiancée?” he kissed your chest as the first line of the A was finished. 

“ You deserve me. You deserve so much..” you breathed as you felt the blade dug once more on your skin. You moaned as he kissed your neck, biting into your skin hard enough to hurt but it was so pleasurable. “ Never leave me..”

He chuckled against your neck as he stepped back, staring at your flushed face and your teary eyes. He was breathtaking. His eyes were staring at you and only you with affection, fondness, envy, obsession and oh so much insanity. 

He pressed the blade on your skin to finish his letter, between your chest would be an A that would always belong to Alastor. 

“ Darling, even if I were to die, I would haunt you.”

That was it.

You held your hand toward him, feeling Alastor’s shadow no longer holding you, your shield forcing Alastor to step back but before he could say anything, you grip his hair and drag him to your lips. You were kissing like he was the air you needed to breathe. You grip the collar of his shirt and ripped it off. You were finally against his naked torso. 

You felt Alastor tapped your thighs, inviting you to jump, which you did immediately. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he pinned you against a wall, his tongue moving with yours in a perfected dance. You clawed at his back, decorating it with scratches from your nails.You would make him bleed just like he did. Marking him as yours.

You felt Alastor’s penis against your panty. You sighed with need before biting his lips until he was bleeding. You needed to feel him, making sure he was real, with you. He held you with one hand before taking once again the knife and cut your panty easily. You were so wet even though Alastor never touched you here. 

You felt him enter you in one thrust making you scream his name in bliss, tilting your head back against the wall behind you. You were gripping at his hair, desperately to feel grounded to something. 

“ I wonder how your dear friend would feel, if he heard you.” he chuckled, breathing as hard as you. 

“ Wh..Who?” you asked, lightheaded. What was he talking about? He kissed you, moving his lips against yours as you moved your hips against him. You wanted to feel him even more, you needed it. 

“ The one who wants to separate us.” he breathed against your lips, his red eyes settling on yours.

“ We’ll kill him.” you said as you kissed him again. You felt his member throbbed inside your walls at your words. You didn’t even know who he was talking about but you would kill anyone who would try to separate you. You gripped his hair hard, forcing him to look at your eyes as red as his. “ I’ll kill anyone who dares to try to separate us.”

You screamed in pleasure as Alastor pinned you against the table, pouding into you. You were clawing at his back as he was licking the blood for your wounds. You could feel your walls clenching around his manhood. You bite him hard on the neck, making him groan. you bit until you could feel blood seeping from your bite.

He leaned back, forcing you to let go of him. You choked as he took your necklace and held it like a leash, strangling you lightly with his own gift he has given you. You tilted your head back, grabbing at his wrist, moving your hips harder against him.

“ Mon coeur, regarde moi.”

You could feel your orgasm coming even though you couldn't breathe properly. You raised your head toward Alastor, looking at him even if he was getting blurry. He tugged you harder against him thanks to your necklace and kissed you, while he held your hand in yours, keeping his brutal pace inside you. 

You felt your eyes roll backward as you came on Alastor’s cock, your walls clenching on it, eager for his seeds. Your legs were trembling against his waist, but you didn’t want to let go. If Alastor was to cum, it would be inside you, nowhere else. 

You came back to yourself and watched as Alastor was breathing heavily, sweat running down his body as he stared at you, his eyes still red.

“ I’m near….”

“  Inside…”  you whispered, stroking his cheeks but he shook his head.

“ Darling, not at that time of the month.” 

He knew your ovulation period better than yourself. You stared at him as you felt his member throbbed. You stared at him before opening your mouth slowly, never looking away from him. You could see his pupils dilated even more, as he understood what you wanted. You said inside, it didn’t mean it has to be inside your lady part. 

He moaned, resting his head against your chest, pouding into you with more vigor. You clenched your walls around him , moaning as you gripped his hair. 

Alastor stepped back and you hurryingly  kneeled in front of you, before taking his penis into your mouth and before you knew it your mouth was filled with his cum. You swallowed every drop, staring at Alastor who was gripping your hair, hissing in pleasure.  You closed your eyes when you felt his fingers through your hair, making you relax.

When everything was swallowed, you stood up and smiled. You felt Alastor lips on your forehead before being carried you in your bedroom and settled on the bed you were going to share with Alastor.

“ Do you need anything?”

“ Just you, come here.”

Alastor laid on the bed and you climbed on him, laying on his naked body. You were kicking your feet in the air, softly,  while looking at his face. You smiled at his relaxed expression but squealed when you felt hands on your body. 

You turned your head and saw the shadow massaging your back. You smiled before looking at Alastor. 

“ It can be useful.” you kissed him softly, multiple times and of course Alastor was kissing you back each time. You touched the A on between your breasts, it wasn’t deep at all, you wondered if it would even stay on your skin. 

“ Now, dearest, where did you meet John?” you looked at Alastor who was looking at you. You massaged his head with your hands, sometimes sliding your nails through his hair. 

“ He was in the woods, where we killed your father…Besides, was it you who put a dead deer instead of your father?” you tilted your head. “ Where is your father?”

“ Underneath the deer, dearest. I dug a hole, buried my father, then I killed a deer and put it on top of him. Nobody would dig again after finding something. When you find a treasure, it’s rare that you keep digging after that, right?” he stroked your back once his shadow left your body.

“ So, you are saying… Is he really there?”

“ And he will always be.” he smirked.

You laughed, nuzzling against Alastor. He was … mind blowing. And he was yours. You put your chin on your hands which were staying on top of Alastor’s chest.

“ So, now, we just have another big pig to kill.”

“ It’s going to be different. My father was a soldier, he was strong and knew how to fight. Our new target doesn’t know how to fight but he is ridiculously fat, we’ll have to be careful.” 

“ I’ll sing, dance and make him choose me, then you’ll come for me and we will kill him both of us. “ you gleed. Even if you would have to learn from Mimzy, you could always use what she would teach you. You weren’t very close with the woman but Alastor said she was useful and knew how to dance and sing so why not give it a try ?

“ I might have to tear off his eyes. He doesn’t deserve them, he shouldn’t even see you dance or sing.” he said with a dark glint in his red eyes.

You giggled as you sat on his pelvis.

“ This is my final signature ! Trust me, I’ll dance for you, even if one hundred people were to watch me, it would mean nothing to me if you weren’t watching me.” You grinded against his penis which was already beginning to harden.” As for John, we’ll take care of him when time comes.” you smiled wickedly without being aware of it, your eyes still red.

You leaned toward Alastor, kissing him as he grinded himself against you. As you both lost yourself to your pleasure you weren’t even aware of both your shadows smiling horrifyingly at you.

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[scoonsalicious]

6.1 Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of sex, nudity, Bucky's lies come back to bite his ass.

Please note: I'll be taking a break from posting starting on Thursday, May 16th to focus on writing, and will resume posting on Thursday, May 23rd.

Word Count: 1.1k

Previously On...: Porn. The last chapter was porn.

A/N: Sorry, besties; not sure what happened. I set this up to post at 445 per usual, and when I came back on, I saw it still hadn't gone up, so I'm doing it manually. I apologize for this screw up!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Bucky woke the next morning in a tangle of sheets and Major. He had to pee, but he didn’t want to get up. God, he never wanted to get up. If he could stay wrapped up with her like this, for the rest of his life, he thought, he would die happy. The very idea struck him like a brick– he’d given a lot of thought to his own death over the years, but never, not once, did he ever consider the possibility that he might actually die happy until this very moment. 

If she was in his life when he went, he realized, he very well could.

Major shifted in her sleep and snuggled further into Bucky’s chest with a contented sigh, and he felt his heart swell. If he wasn’t careful, at the rate his feelings were going, he was at risk of proposing to her before lunch. 

After about fifteen more minutes of blissfully watching Major sleep in his arms, Bucky couldn’t hold off his bladder any longer. Gently extricating himself from Major’s embrace so as not to disturb her, he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before heading to the bathroom. 

After he’d finished and washed his hands, he made his way back toward Major’s bed. As he passed by the string of clothes he’d discarded the night before, he heard a buzzing coming from his pants. He reached down and pulled his phone from his pocket, checking the caller ID.

Lily. Again.

Bucky sighed and took himself back to the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind him as he accepted the call.

“Hey, Lil, what’s up?” he asked, sitting down on the edge of Major’s whirlpool tub.

“Hey, Jamie,” she said, and Bucky could immediately tell something was wrong. She sounded… off, distressed. “Listen,” she continued, “I know you and Sam probably had a late night last night, and I hate bothering you…”

“What’s wrong, Lil?” Bucky asked, growing concerned now. 

“Well, I drove out to Langston Park to run the trails,” Lily began, “and I don’t know if I ran over a nail or had a slow leak, or what, but when I got back to the car, my tire was flat. I was kind of hoping you could meet me up here and help me change it?”

Bucky ran a hand over his stubble. “Shit,” he said. “You know I would in a heartbeat, Lil, but–”

“No, yeah,” Lily interrupted him. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I’m sure someone will drive by and I can flag them down for help–”

“Lily Anne McIntyre, you are not going to wave down a stranger and just hope that they’re not a murderer or a rapist,” Bucky said into the phone, a little louder than he intended. “Listen, I’m on my way, but I’m in the city, so it’s going to take me a little while, okay? Just… just stay in your car with the doors locked until I get there.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much, Jamie!” Lily’s voice was full of relief. “You’re my hero! I owe you, big time!”

Bucky cracked a smile. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Give me about forty-five minutes to get to you, okay? And remember, lock. your. doors.” 

“I promise,” Lily agreed before ending the call. 

Bucky stood up from the edge of the tub and went back into the bedroom and quietly put his clothes back on. Sitting down at the edge of Major’s side of the bed, he leaned down and began pressing kisses to her shoulder and collarbone until she stirred and started to stretch. 

With a lazy moan that sent the blood straight to Bucky’s dick, Major sleepily blinked her eyes open. “Why are you wearing so many clothes?” she asked him, her voice seductively husky with sleep. “Come back to bed.”

Bucky wanted to. Oh god, he really, really wanted to. “I’m so sorry, sugar,” he told her, leaning down to give her a proper kiss. 

“Bucky,” she laughed, pulling back from him, “I just woke up; I’m sure I have horrible morning breath.”

“Like I would ever care.” He cupped her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers, gently running his tongue along her lips so she opened her mouth to him. 

After a long moment, they broke apart, and Bucky rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t want to leave you,” he said softly. “But I’ve got to go.”

Major nuzzled her cheek against his. “So, don’t,” she murmured. “Stay.”

Bucky sighed. “I can’t. Lily’s got a flat tire; she’s waiting on me to come help her change it.” 

Major let out a puff of air through her lips. “Well, give me five minutes to get dressed and I can come with you,” she offered hopefully. 

“I’d love that, doll,” Bucky said, frowning, “but Lily’s still pissed off about the bar and…” he ran a hand behind his neck, suddenly realizing how stupid this was going to sound, “I haven’t told her I’ve been seeing you.”

The change that came over Major was nearly imperceptible, but Bucky clocked it, all the same. Her eyes narrowed, her shoulders tensed and she pulled back from him by a hair.

“So,” Major began slowly, “where did she think you were last night when she called you, then? You said you’d already told her what you were up to. If she didn’t know you were with me, what did she think you were doing?”

“I told her I was having a guys’ night out in the city with Sam,” Bucky admitted, hating himself now for even deeming the lie necessary in the first place.

“I see.” The words were clipped, Major’s voice void of any emotion, and Bucky knew he’d fucked up. Immensely. “Well, you better get going, then, if Lily’s waiting on you.”

“Major.” Bucky put a hand on her arm, but she got up out of the bed, dragging the topsheet with her to wrap around herself and keep her body covered from him, as if now, suddenly, after everything they’d already done together, she no longer wanted him to see her naked. “Can we just–”

“You should go, Bucky,” she said again, not meeting his eye, and Bucky felt like absolute shit. 

“Can I call you later?” he asked, and he heard the note of desperation in his own voice, but Major just shrugged a shoulder. He tried to lean in to her to give her a kiss goodbye, but she stood there, still as a statue, so he simply pressed his lips to her forehead and sighed before showing himself to the door.

He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up, and he’d blown it. She’d probably never want to see him again, and honestly, could he blame her? He’d lied about being with her, like she was some kind of dirty secret. Sam had been right, though Bucky would never admit it to him. Why was he letting Lily’s opinion dictate how he lived his life?

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow; 9

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, sexual assault

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

chapter 9

When you woke in the morning, the feeling of crushing weight had been released from your chest. The cold mountain air was easy to breathe, and you were now at ease with your loved ones so close. 

It had been three weeks since you had escaped. Not a soul had bothered you here. The mountain was too steep and difficult to search. 

You felt safe with Edmund here. Like the nightmare was finally over. 

Each morning when you woke, Edmund was the first you would look for. You often found him just outside your cabin door by the campfire.

This morning was no exception. 

“Good morning,” he greeted. He was chopping large blocks of wood into smaller pieces for the fire.

“Hey. Did you need a hand?” You walk down the steps of the cabin to where he worked. 

“Sure. Can you make a pile from the wood?”

You trip over the sole of your broken boot. They were too old to survive the mountains. Edmund stops his work to watch you trot over, trying to kick your shoe back in place.

“I was going to go down later this morning to pick up some more flour, and fruit. I’ll see if Vincent’s daughters have any spare shoes.”

You hated when he went down the mountain to get more supplies. Always sure that he wouldn’t return.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” you comment.

“Even if they’re not your size, it’d be better than what you got.”

“I meant to go down. It’s dangerous. Peacekeepers are still looking for us.”

“Ah, I’ll be right.” Edmund takes up his work again, swinging the ax down, “They’re looking in the wrong spots anyway. I had Frances tell a guard you were hiding in the canal beneath the wash house. They’ll be searching for weeks.”

You imagine Coriolanus wading through dirty water and laugh at the thought.

“In any case. My shoes will be fine. I don’t want you wasting your money on me.”

“My money? It’s you who got Snow to send the money to your mother. Boy, was I glad to get that letter!”

He stands tall and pulls an imaginary letter out of his pocket, pretending to read it.

“Dear Edmund, I think of you every day. Wishing, wanting, waiting for you to come to me. I dream about how handsome you are. Strong and smart too.”

You laugh at him. 

“I think Snow wrote that one.”

He laughs with you but all too soon the mood turns back somber.

“I was really worried about you, you know? We all were."

He reaches out to take your hand into his. 

“I was so worried about you!” You twist his hand so you can place a kiss on the back of it. 

“I kept thinking about you trapped with him. I had no idea what he was doing to you.”

You knew what he was insinuating and the thought of it made you shudder. You were his. Would he want you less if he believed that Coriolanus had already touched you? Was that why he had reverted to treating you like a kid? He hadn’t touched you like lovers do since you have been here. Was it because Coriolanus had already marked his territory?

You push his hand away, irritated at the thought. 

“He didn’t do anything to me.”

He reaches back and brushes over the almost healed bruised spots on your neck. You recoil in embarrassment. The night in the kitchen fills your mind. You felt a pool of embarrassment form in your stomach. You should have hated it all but as you remember it, your legs squeeze tighter. It felt good, and you didn't feel like  a victim because of it. 

“You know it doesn’t matter. What he did or didn’t do. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Shut up,” you beg. “Let's just agree to never talk about him again. He’s gone, or will be. Dead to the district and to us.”

“Okay,” Edmund agrees. “I am sorry.”

 You felt bad for lashing out at him when he was only trying to help. You had promised yourself just days ago to be the best thing that had ever happened to him. 

“I’ll go cook breakfast, alright? ‘’

Edmund had caught some fish just yesterday. Even scaled and prepared them for you. And this is how you repaid him?

You go back into the cabin and start to warm up the hot plate in the corner. Coriolanus was far away, yet he still seemed to haunt you. Sometimes you felt his fingertips graze your skin. 

He came to you at night mostly, when Edmund wasn’t around to distract you.

You would wake up swearing that you could feel his weight on top of you. You would wake up checking for bruises from where he held you down but your skin was clear. 

You thought the clear air would push him out but he was stuck and you couldn’t shake him out. 

Would it always be like this? Would your life with Edmund be plagued by thoughts of Coriolanus?

 No. You just need to focus more on Edmund. Time would take care of the rest.  

You push any other thought apart from cooking the fish out of your head. Preparing the food to perfection would exonerate you from your earlier thoughts. 

—- 

Nights were colder up in the mountains then at the compound. Edmund lent you a jacket but it did little to keep out the cold. It added to your sleep troubles. Some nights you would only get an hour or two. Some nights you wouldn’t sleep at all. 

You toss and turn next to your mother, trying not to wake her. You felt unsettled. Too unsettled to sleep. 

Edmund slept on the floor beside you thinking that it might help you sleep. 

You found yourself wanting to be held. After nights with Coriolanus you had gotten used to being coddled. 

You move off the bed and onto the floor next to Edmund. 

“Hey, stranger,” he whispers. 

A lazy arm is thrown over you but it isn’t enough. 

You push closer. “Tighter,” you demand. 

He obliged but it still wasn't enough. Coriolanus would hold you so tight, you felt like it was hard to breathe. You used to hate it but as it turns out you can’t sleep without it. 

Edmund smelt nicer. A soft woody smell. 

He treated you nicer too. Let you choose what you did. You could be angry with him if you chose to. He wouldn’t seek to punish you for it. 

Coriolanus tried to buy your love. Edmund tried to earn it. 

You would learn to sleep without needing to be held in time. 

In the meantime Edmund would be there to support you.

—-----

You sit with Edmund by the campfire while the others sleep. Edmund had paid a informant handsomely to relay District information. He came once a week, late at night to avoid being caught. 

You throw a stick into the fire, your boredom and irritation building the longer it takes. 

“Do we have enough money for him to keep coming up here to tell us the same thing? Peacekeepers are still searching, Snow’s angry. I could tell you that.”

“Roger has his use.  He only needs to give us one piece of crucial information to make the money worth it.” 

“And if we run out before he gives it to us?”

Edmund throws his own stick in the fire, watching it burn. 

“We’ll be right. We still have the three panams from Snow. I have a little left in savings, by the time all that runs dry, it’ll be mining season again.

“Mining season? Surely this will be over by then. We can’t hide here amongst everyone.”

“What choice do we have, Y/N? The Peacekeepers haven’t let up. We can’t go back to the District. When you mine together, you become family. They wouldn’t betray me.” 

Betray him, sure. But you were no one to them. You open your mouth to argue this point but the sound of kicked rocks draws your attention. 

A little man in gray, worn clothing and a cap covering his bald head is lightened by the fire. 

“You’re late.” Edmund comments. 

“Yeah well, Peacekeepers have doubled patrolling the area at night. I come late or I don’t come at all.” 

“Well?” Edmund pushes. He stands up with the coins in his hands. 

“Ravenstill’s dead. Snow’s gone back to the Capitol,” the man spits out on the grass before continuing talking, “Saw him get on the train this mornin’ myself.” 

You sigh in victory. He was gone. Now all that was left was to wait out the attention span of the Peacekeepers. 

“Hold on now. I didn’t say he was staying away. Peacekeeper tells me he’ll be back by the time the week is out with the new Commander.”

“But then he’s gone, right? District 12 can’t have two Commanders?” You rise next to Edmund. 

The older man shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe. He’s offering a large reward for your capture.” 

“Yeah, well I’m offering your life.” Edmund’s voice is hard and threatening. He throws the coin pouch at the man who catches it. 

“Settle, boy. I ain't no traitor. I am just saying it seems unlikely that he would offer up such a price only to walk away.” 

“Keep us updated on the movements of Snow and the areas the Peacekeepers are targeting.”

The man opens the coin pouch to look inside before nodding his head and turning back the way he came.

You take hold of Edmund’s arm. You worried for his fate if you were found. You worried for your own fate. He was unbearable when you failed to escape. Now you have succeeded, what laid ahead if you were to return?

—------

You began to have nightmares of Coriolanus finding you. You would wake with your mother's arms wrapped around you, and Edmund calling your name. 

The dreams always ended the same, no matter how they started; with everyone dead at your feet. 

You would run and hide from him in the forest like the night at the cabin. He would find his way into the cabin late at night and crawl on top of you while your protectors slept. One time he dropped from the sky. 

But you woke to find he hadn’t found you yet.

You avoided going to sleep. Your mother joined in solidarity, despite your protests. She would stay up with you to chase the bad thoughts away. 

Edmund's mother stayed up too. She didn’t want to be the only adult asleep. 

You all wait for the update Roger will bring. 

You sit next to Edmund watching the flames. You don’t hear the man approaching until Edmund's mother greets him. The man offers a head nod back but his attention is for Edmund. 

“Peacekeepers are still searching. Mainly in the city blocks. Rumor that she was seen selling cupcakes in town.” 

You scoff at the thought. At least it kept the Peacekeepers preoccupied. 

“Alright,” Edmund throws the money to Roger but the man doesn’t disappear, “Was there something else?” 

“Her brother,” your heart stops beating. “They got him locked up in the Capitol jail.” 

You shoot up from the log in a panic. 

You feel Edmund grab your hand but can’t hear the words that he is telling you. 

“It’s alright. It’s alright,” he finally breaks through, “They won’t hurt him. He’s all the leverage they’ve got.” 

“God. Edmund, what if they do? It’ll be my fault.” Your tears choke you as you speak.

“They won’t. He’ll be safe, okay. He wouldn’t kill him unless he knew you knew.” 

“What are we going to do? I have to go back. He’ll let him go if I-”

“Don’t be stupid. If you go back now, he’ll use Archie to keep you in line forever.” 

“We can’t leave him there.”

“We won’t. If he wants the presidency he’ll have to go back to the Capitol. We wait him out, and when the new Commander comes, he’ll see Archie was kept for no reason and we will buy him back.” 

Your mother sat sobbing and you joined her. 

Dear God, what have you done?

“From what I was told, they ain't hurt him.”

“See?” Edmund says, “So long as you stay hidden, there would be no point in hurting him.” 

Edmund’s mother comes over and wraps her arms around her elder son. Archie was special to her too. 

You had put all her sons in danger. In her heart, there was no more room for you.

—------------

The news of Archie’s arrest had dampened spirits. The days were long and everyone was irritable.

Edmund feared for his friend. You feared for your brother.

He had spent all his life protecting you, now only for you to get him killed. You wished you were still a little girl waiting by the door for your older brother to come home from work. It was a similar feeling to now. The dread of him not coming home filled you.

You wondered how Coriolanus got him on the train. Was it under threat? Did he beat Archie into submission? Or did he lie and deceive Archie?

Your mother was adamant that his capture was not your fault. Even if that was true, Archie’s detention was. You knew Coriolanus would let you trade yourself for your brother. But Edmund was right, if you folded now your family would always be ready for capture to be used against you.

Edmund’s mother was less sympathetic to it all. You had dragged her family into this and now the boy she considered a third son was rotting in jail because you were too precious to submit to the Commander like the rest of District 12.

She was cold to you, never speaking directly to you and only offering glaring stares. Being treated so terribly oddly felt validating. People should be angry with you. You had put them in danger.

You look at Edmund's little brother across the other side of the campfire. He clung to his mother's skirt, resting his head on her lap. He was just a boy, you couldn’t bear it if a hair on his head was harmed. And yet you have asked him to hide in a mountain with you. Leave his school and his friends behind.

No one had spoken for hours as you sat together around the camp, so when Edmund moved suddenly it caught everyone's attention. 

He shoots up from where you rested upon him on the log to gaze out as smoke ringlets circle the sky. 

“Get your things. Make sure to leave nothing behind.”

None of you move, perplexed at his outburst. 

“Now!” he shouts, “Move!” 

His anxiety caused you all to jump up and follow his command. He kicks dirt over the campfire to make it look unused while the rest of you pack what little you have. 

 You came with nothing so you focused on the pots and pans, and stripping the beds. 

He joins you as you work with his mother and brother to clean their room. 

“What’s going on?” His mother demands but doesn’t stop her work of shoving clothes into a sack held by her youngest son. 

“Peacekeepers are searching the mountains.” 

“Where are we going to go?” you panic. They would search all of the mountains. 

“The mines. They won’t search there. Too unstable for people who don’t know what they are doing.” 

He takes the bag of pans off you and throws it over his shoulder. 

The mines were a dangerous place to hide, and there was no certainty that the Peacekeepers wouldn’t search them. If they did you would be trapped. They would just keep pushing forward until your group reached a dead end.

Nevertheless, Edmunds leads the group to the trail that leads into the mines. 

You couldn’t decide what would be worse, dying by a Peacekeeper or in a mine like your father. 

But with Edmund’s hand in yours, at least the rocks of the mountain would let you keep him. The Peacekeepers would tear you from him only in death. 

Even with the bags of stuff, the trail is tread quickly.

The cave is dark and so, so cold. You hide in the shadows with your group. Edmund stands to the front once he has herded the group into safe standing. 

It is completely silent for what feels like a lifetime. Nothing but the birds in the trees and the wind. It lulls you into a false sense of security. Maybe Edmund was wrong. Maybe his source on the other side was mistaken and blew the smoke prematurely. But soon a distant sound of heavy tire treads could be heard rolling up the hill.

You ignored the first sign of people approaching. But as they got heavier and the talking got louder, it got harder to assure yourself that you wouldn’t be found.

You clutch Edmund's arms. You feel it move to reach for the pocketknife in his pocket. 

Peacekeepers call to each other. They were close, you could hear clearly as they spoke. 

“Hey, let's go.”

“Commander Snow said every inch”.

“You lookin’ to get killed? Those mines collapse all the time.” 

You hold your breath waiting. Should you walk out now to save everybody else?

“Come on, man. No one’s here. We’ve still got half the forest to get to. Come on.”

You feel Edmund relax under you as the Peacekeepers walk away. 

None of you move. The threat remains in the woods. None of you were safe until the Peacekeepers were out of the woods and had reported to Coriolanus that nothing was there. 

The mountains were large, you wondered how many Peacekeepers had been spared to search it. Even if thirty men, it would take a whole day at least.

It was a whole day spent in the cave, waiting for the Peacekeepers to come back. But no sound was ever heard.

Night falls before Edmund makes the call to investigate. 

His mother kisses him before he leaves. 

You cringe under her stare. You had put her baby boy in danger. It was your fault that she now had to hide in the mountains away from her home. 

It will be a rocky start once all of this is over. How could you work to earn back her affection after all the pain you have caused her? 

Edmund's little brother had taken over the role of protector. He stood at the front of the cave, tall and fierce like his brother had. He clutched his knife and looked out into the night with a hunter's eyes.

Edmund was gone for hours but his little brother never tired of his role. If Peacekeepers turned up, the little boy was ready.

You watch over him as his mother makes what little she can from the food.

A dark figure cast into the cave, and you grab the little boy, pulling him back against you to protect him. It was too tall, too broad for Edmund. You shrink back into the shadows as it approaches, reaching down to pull the knife from the boy. On instinct, you open your mouth to scream but it is Edmund's voice that calls you. 

“They are gone. Cars are gone, and there are no markings to pick up the search. They won’t return.”

You shake the fear out of you and release Edmund's brother from your protective hold. 

Coriolanus had weaved himself into your mind. Every shadow; every sound was him. 

You needed Edmund to take his place, but he often acted like a ghost to you, touching you only in reproach. 

You wanted to keep something from Coriolanus' reach. To give some shred of you to Edmund that could never be given back. 

You started by hugging him tight. 

—---

You had decided to sleep with Edmund at the first opportunity after the scare yesterday.

It was hard to pin him down between his hunting, working around the camp, and his family. 

You felt like his shadow as you lingered, trying to single out his attention. 

He would offer you a smile every time you saw him but wouldn’t stop his work. 

You followed him into the woods but his brother would insist on coming to learn how to shoot. 

Back at camp, his mother blocked you from his attention. It seemed impossible to gain an audience with him. 

You tried to tell him what you wanted but the words would never form in your mouth. He was always too busy to hear them anyway. Telling you to wait until back at camp to tell him what you were trying to say. But camp was too crowded so you always pretended to forget what you wanted to say. 

It took three days of pining before the mothers took the washing to the lake. It would take them all day to rinse and dry the clothes and sheets. Normally you would go and help but today you had a goal in mind. 

You hide Edmund’s catch from this morning and tell Edmund’s brother that another animal had run off with dinner tonight. You had asked him to go catch fish but he was determined that he could catch actual prey. He was a hunter like his brother, he insisted. 

Whatever got him lost for a couple of hours. He didn’t actually have to catch anything but you hoped he did. You would boast about him at dinner. He was a good kid and deserved more attention. 

“Hey,” Edmund greeted you. He had gone to collect more firewood and you had grown impatient waiting for him to get back. 

“Where is everyone?” 

You don’t answer him. He looked so handsome, slightly covered in dirt from his work. 

You wanted this to be the moment you remember forever. If Coriolanus did find you, you wanted to at least have this memory of Edmund. 

He looks confused as you grab his arm and pull him into the cabin but follows your direction. 

You slam the door shut and push Edmund up against the wall, cementing your body like what had been done to you on so many occasions. 

You kiss him hard, letting him know how badly you need him. 

He stills you with a firm grip on your shoulders, tilting his head higher out of your reach. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I want it to be you. Not him.” Even on your tippy toes, you could not reach him. 

“Not now,” he scolds. 

“Yes now,” you refute, “I can feel him getting closer every day.” 

Edmund looks down upon you, taking your face gently in your hands. 

“You’re safe. He’s not going to get you. I’ll keep you safe.” 

You knew he would try but you felt Coriolanus in your bones. You knew he would catch you. 

“Please,” you whine. Your hands reach for his belt but he traps your hands. 

“You are not going to give me this under threat. He’s not going to persuade you to do something you’ve had the past few years to do yourself.” 

“I want to,” you protest. You manage to capture his lips again and he mercifully kisses back. 

His barrier was weak. You were sure you could break it down. His hands held your hips and not your wrists, almost giving you permission. 

“Edmund! Edmund!” The sound of his little brother's voice was heard only seconds before the door opened. 

You separate. Edmund looked almost relieved. He eyes you by his side but gives his attention to his brother. You had broken down his wall but he was saved by the bell. 

“Look!” the little boy proudly held up a small dead rabbit. You wished you insisted on the fish. 

“Good job, buddy.” Edmund moves from you to his brother, straightening his jacket as he walks. 

“I’ll help you dress it.”  Edmund doesn’t look at you as he leads his brother back out to the open. 

“I can do it!” The little voice demanded. 

“I know, buddy. But we can’t afford to lose any meat.”

You could cry at the sense of rejection. Edmund wouldn’t give you another opportunity. You had just wanted to show that you loved him but he would have to settle for words. 

—----

You were cold to Edmund the following days, even as you tried to let it go. You wouldn’t look at him as you passed him his meals. Would only speak to him to answer a question. You wouldn’t say more than what was needed. 

He still slept on the floor next to you despite your behavior.

You knew he was trying to protect you by his rejection but it stung. 

Coriolanus had made you feel desirable.  He performed extraordinary measures just for a kiss. And here you were throwing yourself at Edmund, begging him for just that, only to be tossed aside. 

Was Edmund's affections real or just a product of Coriolanus interference? 

You felt stupid for making the first move. You should have just forgotten the whole thing. Edmund was loyal. He just got confused, and you played the fool. Now you had put him in an uncomfortable situation that could risk any relationship with him after this ordeal. 

 You loved him but you should have stayed silent about it. 

Half of you hoped that Coriolanus would find you and take you away. Maybe Edmund would feel guilty about his rejection, and regret it. 

You roll over in bed towards where Edmund is lying on the floor. 

No, that’s not true. 

You’d rather be Edmund’s doormat than Coriolanus' bride.  

—---------

Coriolanus stood backstage at the presidential show. They would perform now for the audience. Answering questions, and charming the crowd. Coriolanus should feel on top of his game. He was known for being charming. It was all he had for the longest time. 

Augustus stood at the other side of the stage, Coriolanus could see him through gaps in the curtains talking to his campaign manager.

Coriolanus couldn’t bear to talk to anyone until he was forced to. 

His thoughts were occupied with you. All of the District was searched, and all he received from it was rumors. A few whispered leads but nothing to truly go on. 

He needed to shake you out so he could focus on his night. 

He hated you now more than ever. It was one thing to betray him, it was another to interfere with his presidential campaign. You should have been here now to support him. 

But instead, you had run off with another man. He should have killed Edmund when he had the chance. Coriolanus had kept him as a pawn but Edmund had turned himself into a knight. 

Lucky was warming up the crowd to introduce the candidates. Coriolanus couldn’t be thinking of this now. You were here. You had gone back to the apartment and he found you there. There was no hole in the fence Peacekeepers failed to find, and Edmund was dead. 

When he went back to the Snow penthouse tonight, he would find you there. Drinking tea with Grandma’am and Tigris. 

Coriolanus hears his name being called and he enters the stage with a smile.

District 12 was a small place, you couldn’t hide forever. Coriolanus would take the first train back tonight and follow every lead himself. 

—----------

You were adding spices to the stew when wildflowers popped up under your face. 

Edmund stood behind you with a shy smile. 

“I am sorry. Please stop being angry with me,” he begs. 

You take the flowers from him to show you are not hostile. 

“I am not angry. I just-” you pause your words unsure on what to say, “You haven’t kissed me or even really touched me since I’ve been here. If you don’t feel the same way that's fine, Just-”

“You’re really stupid. You know that?” he cuts you off. He takes a step towards you. You take it as an invitation to place your hands on his arms. 

“I’ve loved you since I can last remember. And you take me giving you a little space after you’ve just spent a ridiculous amount of time as a hostage to a man who thinks torturing is the same thing as courting, as a sign I ain't interested?”

You kiss him gently and he allows you to. Your heart swelled under his words. He loved you. 

“I meant what I said though. I ain't touching you under threat. When the time’s right, and it’s just the two of us, I’ll give you anything you want. But allow yourself to heal first. I don’t want you to regret anything.” 

You kiss him again to show your gratitude. 

“Thank you. I am sorry, Edmund. I love you.” 

“I love you too, stupid.” 

Coriolanus shakes Lucky Flickerman's hand as the crowd cheers for him. Presidency was close even if you were far.

—------

Despite not having a choice, camp life was agreeable. You worked closely with Edmund, helping him where you could and supporting him where you could not.

Your mother seemed happy too, despite her son being in the Capitol jail. But plans were already forming to get him out. And he was safe, or at least relatively safe. You had no idea what he faced but you knew it would not be death. Not yet. Not without Coriolanus knowing that you knew what had happened to him.

The new Commander of District 12 was sworn in yesterday. Coriolanus was there to hand over the title. Roger had said he seemed uptight and disinterested in the affair. You were sure Coriolanus would be gone soon.

Back to the Capital where he belonged. An air of victory floated around you. He would be president and you would return to District 12 where you belonged, but as Mrs. Flair.

You no longer had nightmares of Coriolanus. Soon this memory would fade into a distant dream.

But it all happened so fast; a loud banging noise woke you, and dozens of pairs of boots stomped across the floor. Edmund woke too, tried to fight them off but there were too many of them. All in protective gear and all with weapons. 

They drag him and your mother out. None of the Peacekeepers touch you even as you hit and yell. 

It was early morning, the sunlight had just been cast over the mountains but the ground was still frozen and wet with condensation. 

Edmund and your mother were thrown on the ground and held down while their hands were cuffed behind their backs. Edmund's mother and brother soon followed. 

You grapple with a Peacekeeper trying to cuff Edmund's hands. He does his best to avoid you but no one pulls you away. Your hands remain free and none of the Peacekeepers make a move to trap you. 

“Please,” you beg amongst the crying and Edmund’s yelling. 

You almost don't recognize him. His hair had grown out, and he wore an expensive red coat instead of his Commander uniform. 

But his eyes remained the same. Blue and fierce they gazed down at you. You had run straight past him without noticing.

You rush to him in panic, falling at his feet and grabbing his black pant leg in a tight hold. 

“Coriolanus, please,” you beg him, “Please I’ll go back. Just release them.”

He ignores you. Nodding to a Peacekeeper who takes a long length of rope from his belt and throws it over the branch of a tree. Another two bring Edmund to his feet, pushing him as he resists.

His mother wails, joining your begging. 

“No! No! Wait please!” They continue to set up the rope. 

“Coriolanus, please!” you had time to beg as the Peacekeeper does the knot. 

He continues to watch Edmund, listening to Edmund's insults rather than your cries. 

“Commander, please. I won’t ever do it again. I’ll be perfect.” 

He still ignores you. Not even glancing at you as you beg him from the dirt. 

“No, no.” The Peacekeeper finishes the knot and fastens it around Edmund's neck.

You go to reach him. You would hold him up if you had to, but Coriolanus caught you by your hair and held you in place. 

Edmund kicks like a fish out of water as the rope is pulled by two Peacekeepers on the other side. 

You pull against Coriolanus' hold, almost yanking your hair out trying to reach him.

Edmund looks at you as he struggles. His hold body shook, and he kicked at the air in hope. His lips half form your name but it never quite parts from his lips.

Coriolanus does let you go but it was too late. Edmund had stopped kicking. Stopped blinking. Stopped breathing. 

You run to him anyway, dropping where he hung. 

You reach out and touch his foot as it sways. 

“Kiss your mother goodbye, and let’s go.” His voice shoots ice down your spine. 

You wanted to scream and yell and cry, but you could do nothing but stare at the dirt in front of you. The sound of crying filled your ears. Dear god, this was all your fault. 

Coriolanus doesn’t ask you again, just grabs a fistful of hair and yanks you to movement. 

You felt too disorientated to fight back. 

He drags you past Edmund's crying mother and brother who couldn’t tear their eyes away from the tree. 

You wanted to reach out to say something, but Coriolanus was in a rush to get back to the Capitol. 

“Mum,” was all you could call out as you pass her.

He drags you along to a parked patrol car and throws you in the cage used for rebels. 

It felt as if the earth had swallowed you whole. There was no fight left in you. All you felt was despair.

Coriolanus had no pity for you. He barely glanced at you as he locked the cage and closed the door. 

You lay in the back in your borrowed nightdress and Edmund’s jacket. You bring it up to your face as you sob. He was dead. All hope of a happy future was gone with him. You would remain Coriolanus’ slave until the day you died.

The journey throws you around as they speed down the hill and back to the city section of the District. 

You sob the entire way. Edmund was dead because of you. Your brother was in jail. Your mother is now all alone in this world. You wanted to die too. It would be kinder than this existence. 

Edmund was dead because of you. His family left without their provider because of you. Your heart ached. Your grief suffocated you. You gasp for air but your sobs block any from reaching your lungs.

What have you done? Why did you think you stood a chance of escape?

You begged the universe to turn back time. You wouldn’t go to the jail. You were trying to do the right thing but your kindness had led to your world being ripped apart.

Why did you have to do it, you thought to yourself. Life could have been so sweet if you weren’t so foolish.

What would your life be like now? Coriolanus wouldn’t be taking you back to the Compound now there was a new Commander. Were you going to the Capitol so soon?

You had a hard time adjusting to life at the Compound. How would you ever survive the capital?

Would you survive the Capital? After Coriolanus had finished with you, would he keep you around after you had betrayed him?

He seemed a different man. Could he still say he was in love with you? Or has that game now ended?

The car stops at the train station. Talking and car doors slamming cut through the business of the station.

The harsh light enters when the door is yanked open by Coriolanus.

You don’t want to get out, hoping to get shot for your resistance. 

Coriolanus drags you out by your ankle, taking a tight hold of your arm as he gets you upright and pushes through onto the train. 

You don’t struggle against him as he leads you through the busy station. What would be the point?

You enter first class, and the doors get locked by maids behind you. 

The only word you can say is “no”, over and over again. 

This couldn’t be happening. Was this just another bad dream? Please, just let this be a bad dream. 

Coriolanus shoves you into a booth, and you slump against the window. He sits next to you trapping you in. You had no energy to move. Only sob against the cold glass. 

You should have just saved yourself the trouble and stayed. Why did you have to anger him?

With the most important passenger on board, the train moves out of the station. 

“Enough,” he tells you. But you couldn’t follow his command even if you tried. 

You watch the District shoot past you. How you wished you could open the window and throw yourself out. 

The rocks pass, and the trees begin to blur into one another. Coriolanus is silent for hours as you cry against the window still. 

You could feel him sometimes looking at you but otherwise, he just sat there. Fixing the jewelry he wore. A gold pinky ring with your ring stacked on top of it. His coat buttons were dipped in gold. He had a new watch, a present from Tigris for returning home. 

It was only when you shifted from the window and slumped over the table did he speak. 

“We were supposed to be in the Capitol weeks ago.” 

The Capitol. His presidential run. You had just lost everything you had ever known and he talks about being behind schedule.

You sit up to face him. He was no longer the Commander you knew but something far more fearsome.

“You think I care about the Capitol?!” You cry, “You took everything from me! You ruined my life,” you scream at him.

He grabs your jaw in his hand and pushes your head back against the glass. The glass is solid and cold as you are pressed against it.

“Your mother has joined your brother in the District 12 jail. I would be very careful what you say to me. Did you think this was a game? Did you think I wouldn’t search for you? Wouldn’t find you?” 

The door slides open and Coriolanus releases you. A servant walks in with breakfast, and another behind her with juice and pastries. 

They set the food and cutlery down in silence. You notice they don’t look up or around, only at what they are doing. 

Coriolanus doesn’t thank them as they leave. He doesn’t eat either. 

“Coriolanus, are they going to be okay?”

“We could have just left, Y/N. No one had to get hurt.”

You turn back to the window as you speak, “I know.”

The food sat at the table for five minutes untouched before Coriolanus called for it to be taken away again. The servants come quickly and the food is taken away in the same manner it was delivered; quickly and silently. 

“It’s three days to the Capitol.” he stands up as he spoke to you, “Two days after that they will announce the new president of Panem. Whatever this is, it’s finished. You do the slightest thing to displease me and your family will follow Edmund.” 

You flinch at his name. Edmund would haunt you for the rest of your days. You hoped he would. 

“Do you understand me?” he asks.

“Yes, Commander.” 

He flinches at the name but doesn’t comment. He clears his throat and walks away into the other carriage. 

You pick up on your crying again. You should have known that your rage only ever backfired on your loved ones. 

Your throat ached and your eyes were puffy, soon you had no more tears left to cry. 

You try a door to see where it leads but it must have a sensor on it because it didn’t open as easily as it did for Coriolanus. He had trapped you in the room. This was your life now. Waiting for Coriolanus to decide what to do with you.

You curl up on the seat and let the train lull you to sleep.

The servants must have come back in during your nap for when you woke the table was filled with food again. A large jug of water sat on the table. You finish all of it and lay back down again.

Coriolanus returns much later, around dinner time. 

“You’re still there,” he observes as the door lets him through. 

“Where else could I go?” 

His hand presses a large button and what you thought was a wall slides to reveal a bedroom. 

“You should wash up for dinner. You have dirt all over you.” 

You did want to take a shower, but you didn’t want to lose Edmund’s jacket. 

Coriolanus steps forward to grab you, but you rise upon seeing him move. Nothing he said was ever a suggestion.

The room was large, with a queen-sized bed decorated in a rich, heavy fabric of deep blue. There were four large pillows and a set of smaller ones with the Panem emblem on them.

A wall was built to hang clothes. You could only see three sets of Coriolanus’ clothing and a dress and a nightgown for you.

On the other side, there was door to a spacious bathroom. You had thought the commanders apartment bathroom was impressive but now you could see why the Capital looked down at the districts.

This bathroom alone was almost as big as the bedroom in the Commander's quarters. Beautiful gold and white titles lay across the floor. A white marble sink with a gold tap. You reach out to touch it.

‘‘Take your clothes off.” Coriolanus demanded. He reaches for the buttons on his own shirt causing the panic to rise in you again.

What would it matter what he did to you? But still, you felt too frozen to move.

He gets halfway through the buttons on his shirt to see you still dressed. His eyes darken as he reaches out to you.

You shrink back against the marble countertop as he yanks Edmund's jacket from your shoulders and throws it to the ground. Your eyes follow it there, as Coriolanus slips your borrowed nightdress off.

You expected more of a reaction from him after all this time. But he seems uninterested in your naked body. He takes your arm and pulls you to the shower head where he fiddles with the tap until the water is to his liking.

He throws you under the hot water while he finishes undressing. The clothes are left on the floor as he joins you in the shower.

You move out of his way to let him have the water but he pulls you back under and reaches for a soft sponge hanging against the wall.

“Look at you,” he mutters. He scrubs the sponge under your nails to get rid of the dirt that had caked under them.

Satisfied he scrubs the sponge up your arms to your neck and down your back. He scrubs too hard. It feels as if he is peeling off your skin.

He is quick along your stomach. Not spending too much time before moving on.

You flinch when he crouches down to scrub at your legs but he stops mid-thigh and returns to full height, dragging the sponge up your leg and resting on your left hip.

“Are you going to do it now?”  It was important that you were clean for him, you supposed.

He drops the sponge, using his hand to wrap around your throat and force you back into the glass.

You don’t look at him as he stares at you. He steps closer, wrapping his arm around your waist and bring you against him.

He rests his forehead against your collar bone, the steam filled the air and fogged your view. He is so still and silent. He had made no move to grope you. You couldn’t tell if he even looked at you. He just held you close and breathed deeply. 

The room became hard to breathe in as the water turned into steam. But you were too scared to voice even that complaint. He moved from your collar bone to rest his chin on your shoulder but then went still again. 

“Coriolanus?” His name was barely a breath on your lips. 

“I am so angry at you,” he said softly. You feel the hand on your throat tighten.

“How could you do that to me?’’ He lifts his head off of you to look you in the eye.

“Augustus has been opening hospitals and amongst the Capitol people, while I have been chasing you around District 12. Do you have any idea how that made me look?’’

You think of your family in jail as you speak. “I am sorry.”  

“You’re sorry? Not good enough.”

He looked so different with his blonde wet hair pressed down on his forehead. The ends curled slightly towards his face.

“You won, Coriolanus. What more do you want from me?”

“I don’t feel as if I have won. I feel as if I have been betrayed.”

Your eyes twitched with irritation. He felt betrayed? You were astonished you that he felt like the victim after causing you so much pain. He was the only bad thing to have happened. The cause of his own misery.

“You killed Edmund,” you sobbed, “You killed him.”

You bring a fist against his shoulder, but it landed without true force.

“I let him live once. Remember?”

The memory of target training at the train station flashes through your mind before you could block it.

“What made you think I would make the same mistake twice?”

He releases you to turn off the tap. You stood frozen as he dries himself.

His anger had lit yours so when he exited the bathroom, you followed, wet and dressed only in a towel.

“Edmund was a good man.”

Coriolanus was readying himself for bed. He spared you a irritated look.

“And now he’s a dead man.”

His sentence stung you.

You wiped the running tears off your eyes. “He was a good man,” you repeat.

He was the only man for you. The love of your life, now dead and gone.

“How did you know? Did Roger rat us out?” you ask.

“You did,” you wait for him to elaborate as he dresses in his pajamas, “Your letter to your brother. People disappear all the time up there.”

You feel your heart drop at his words. A new wave of guilt comes crashing over you.

“He was smart hiding there. He knew the area well. And the smoke signals? Very good. I never did find out who was sending them, but what use are they if you don’t see them.”

Was. Knew. No more.

 “Well enough to fool my Peacekeepers, but I thought, why would she put that in a letter to her brother? Unless it was to warn him. Why else tell him not to come back? You love your brother, of course you would want him back.”

Tears well in your eyes again.

“Is he okay? Have you hurt him?” you accuse.

“It would serve me no purpose to hurt him.”

His movements are hard and sharp as he puts on his satin button-up shirt.

“So you’ll release him? Both of them?” They served no purpose to him in the Capitol.

“When I can trust you again.” He spat.

It could be years before a paranoid Coriolanus decided he trusted you.

“You can trust me. I promise. I’ll make it up to you, just please let them go.”

You walk over to him, reaching out to touch him. It normally worked to disarm him. He is receptive to you, taking a hand and placing it against your face.

“You know why I can trust you? Because I have your family locked in a cage.”

He disappears along with his touch, going over to the cupboard and throwing a deep blue matching nightgown on the bed.

He says nothing else before returning to the dining room and leaving you in the bedroom alone.

You cry as you dress, and don’t stop as you throw the small pillows across the room and sink into the mattress.

Everything you did was wrong. People were hurt because you weren’t smart enough to protect them. Your mother and brother sat in a dirty jail cell, and you had put them there.

They bore the consequences of your stupidity.

Your mind ran and ran with your anxiety. Images of your mother and brother being beaten in a small cell. Edmund’s family slowly starving to death without him. The memory of Edmund as he swayed from the rope.  

You wallow in bed for an hour before Coriolanus rejoins.

You feel him slip into bed beside you. He wraps his arms tightly around you and for the first time in months you fall asleep easily.

You woke the next morning with the feeling of crushing sadness.

Coriolanus was awake next to you. You could hear him practicing a speech as he laid beside you. You don’t move. You weren’t even sure if you could.

A knock on the door stops him, and he bids the person to come in.

You don’t have to look to know it was a servant with a breakfast tray.

Coriolanus reaches for your shoulder to turn you over. You follow his direction and he props a pillow up behind you so you could sit up.

You thank the person as they put a small table over your lap.

You felt nauseous just looking at the food. But asking them to take it away may cause trouble for them so you wait until they leave to reject the food.

You place the table on the floor and roll back onto your side. Your bones felt like cement, and your eyes welled with tears but you didn’t have the energy to cry.

Coriolanus said nothing to you as he eats.

He mutters his speech between sips of coffee. Soon that was finished too, and he rose for the day.

He crosses your eyesight as he approached the wardrobe, and you watch him dress. It seemed odd to see him in anything other than his Commander uniform.

You had never seen Capitol fashion before. It was full of layers and tiny details. The buttons on his shirt had a silver swirl design that caught the light. His shirt was crisp and white with a design of two black flowers on either side, reaching from the end of the shirt to his shoulders.

“I have some work to do. Interviews and thank you letters. So, if you decide to come out be quiet.”

You had no plan to leave your spot, but you nod in understanding.

He doesn’t look or speak to you again as he leaves the room.

You felt as if you had died too. There was no life in you anymore.

You lay for hours in the same spot. Occasionally you could hear Coriolanus as he spoke.

The weight on your shoulder caused it to ache but you couldn’t make yourself move.

The only time you shifted during the hours was when the servants returned to serve you lunch. They took the dirty dishes but also the dirty laundry.

You lunch up to stop the women carrying out Edmund’s brown coat.

“Wait, please!” you grab the worn material off her, “Not this. Leave this.”

The two women look between each other, unsure.

“Mr. Snow said to take everything.”

You swing the jacket over you, positioning yourself in it.

“He didn’t mean this.” Edmund’s faint scent lingered on the fabric. He gave it to you to keep warm at night. You had come to associate it with the feeling of protection.

The young girl bows to you and the other follows suit. As they leave, you know it’s to tell Coriolanus.

You sit and wait for him on the bed.

Coriolanus storms in not moments later.

“The jacket,” he demanded.

“No, Coriolanus. Please let me keep it.”

He launches at you, tearing at the jacket trying to pull it off you. You fight against him, cementing your arms to yourself and trying to wriggle free.

He gets it half off your shoulders. But he grew too frustrated to finish the job. He pulls you up towards him by the collar of the jacket.

“Take the jacket off or I’ll tell them not to bother feeding your mother tonight.”

Edmund was right. Coriolanus was always going to use your family as a weapon.

But the needs of the living overtook those of the dead. You had to make sure they were as safe as you could make them.

He gets off you and you get up to give him the jacket.

As he takes the jacket with one hand, he smacks you with the other.

You make a startled sound but Coriolanus is gone before you finish it.

You return back to your spot and sob into your pillow.

With the jacket now gone, you had truly lost every piece of Edmund.

And with him, you have lost every piece of yourself. Only Coriolanus remained.

 ————

 Three hours after lunch, Coriolanus came to sit on your side of the bed next to you.

“I’ve brought you a cup of tea.”

“Thank you. I don’t want tea.”

Coriolanus’s face is tense as he places the cup on the table next to you.

“They tell me you didn’t have lunch either. Is that your plan? To starve yourself to death before we reach the Capitol?”

“I have no plan,” you admit.

 “Well I do. I have lots of plans, and you’re through with delaying them. So Sit up and drink your tea.” 

He reaches out to your neck to help you sit up. The tea is placed into your hands but it is him you stare at. 

“You look so different.” 

His hair was a soft white color as it grew out. His clothes were fashionable and colorful. Nothing of the District 12 Commander remained. 

He runs his fingers through his hair, combing it back. 

“I am still the same.” 

“I don’t think that’s true.”  You didn’t think it was possible but he was colder, held himself with somehow more confidence. This was the new leader of Panem. 

“What would you know? You never bothered to get to know me.” 

“I think I know you better than anyone else.” 

He showed you parts of himself you were sure he hid from others. The nightmares. The secret yearning to be taken care of. The heartbreak he carried from the loss of his mother. 

“Think, think, think. What have I told you about thinking? You’re no good at it. I’ll do it. Now drink your tea.” 

You take a sip of the scalding tea. It quenches some of your thirst. 

“Will I ever go back to District 12?” you ask. 

You weren’t really sure you would want to. 

“No.” 

“What’s going to happen to me once we reach the Capitol?”

He sighs, ‘‘That depends on you.” 

“Will it be like the compound?”

He laughs humorlessly, “Nothing is like the compound.” 

“I meant being locked indoors.”

“Will I let you roam free around the Capitol? No.” He doesn’t look at you as he speaks. His eyes move around the room, looking at the subtle details. 

“But if you are well-behaved, and do enough to earn it, I will show you all the Capitol has to offer.” 

His eyes move down, back to you. 

“You’ll grow to admire the Capitol. You won’t hate it forever.” 

You go to refute his statement. Nothing in the Capitol could fill the gaping hole left in you from being torn from your home and family. But a servant knocks on the door, taking Coriolanus’s attention. 

He commands them to come in but the small girl only steps upon the threshold and never through it. 

“Sir, you have a call.”

“I’ll be right there.” He answers back. 

She bows and doesn’t rise until the door is shut again.

“Duty calls,” you taunt. 

“Yes.” His eyes are back to being everywhere but on you, “I want that tea finished before I get back.”

As soon as he leaves, you get up and pour the tea down the bathroom sink. 

—----

The next morning was the same. You laid in bed for hours, unmoving. 

Only this morning they didn’t bother to bring you breakfast. You wondered if you would have eaten it, if it was offered, but your guilt still felt so heavy. 

Lunchtime came around and Coriolanus disrupted your wallowing. 

“Get up. We reach the Capitol soon.” He orders. 

He plucks a dress off the rack and lays it across the bed, just under your feet. 

It was a blush pink satin gown that tied in a low ribbon at the back. Matching heels that wrapped around your ankle were placed on the floor below. 

You sit up to touch the fabric of the dress, and Coriolanus sneaks behind you with a hair brush. 

He begins to untangle your hair but he pulls it too harshly. You could feel the tender spot on your head from where he had pulled it just two days before. 

“There will be cameras when we step off the train. Fashion is very important in the Capitol. You’ll have to get used to not wearing the same dress every day.” 

He pulls a knot too harshly and you let out a cry of pain. 

His hand moves yours from the spot and massages it gently. 

“That wouldn’t have happened if you had gotten up at some point.” 

He returns the brush to the carry bag and returns to you, holding out his hands. 

You take them and he pulls you up out of the bed.

His hands move to your nightdress and he pulls it off to place the pink satin gown over your head. He spins you around so he can tie it in the back. 

“Put on your shoes and meet me outside.” 

He places a kiss on the back of your shoulder before leaving you. 

The shoes are hard to walk in. While not overly tall, the heel itself was narrow. Trying to walk felt like a balancing act. You could only manage small steps. 

Coriolanus sat at the booth looking out of the window. 

The landscape had changed from long stretches of dry dirt to tall buildings. 

You sit down opposite him and gaze out the window at it all. 

It seemed unreal. 

Every building shined. The Panem flag was hung wherever possible. The sky seemed extra blue. 

You had never felt homesick but now you realize why Coriolanus was so eager to get back home. 

The scenery disappears as you enter a tunnel and stop at your destination. 

Your hand is tugged as Coriolanus heads to the exit with the servants and the bags just ahead of you.

You could hear a commotion as you got closer. Voices overlapped and snapping sounds of flashing cameras joined the noise. 

The lights were blinding as you exited the carriage. 

Coriolanus seemed in his element. He waved and smiled as he lead you through the sea of cameramen and reporters. 

They all shouted at him as they held microphones up to his face. But he didn’t stop to make a comment. 

More people surrounded the outside. Peacekeepers made a path to a sparkling black car with their bodies blocking the crowd. 

He was hailed a king here, and a tyrant back in District 12. All for the same thing. 

The scene was overwhelming. Not only were you in a foreign place without your family, but you felt yourself suffocating amongst the crowd. If one were to break through, the rest would follow ending in a catastrophe. 

You were a stranger, an enemy. You did not belong here. 

You wanted to turn back to the train but Coriolanus’s hold prohibited such action. 

Someone opens the car door for him and he lets you enter first. 

The silence that greets you helps to settle your nerves. With a final wave, Coriolanus joins you in the car, and it takes off from the crowd. 

He sighs and readjusts his jacket so it falls in front of him. 

Your hands shake so you keep them clamped together on your lap.

Coriolanus doesn’t speak to you as you peer out the window. 

You felt as if you had stepped onto another planet. 

The streets were colorful, both in design and people. Cars gilded next to you and in front of you. There were statues and water fountains on every corner. 

All gained from the hard labor of the Districts. 

Still, you couldn’t take your eyes off the passing scenery. You are hypnotized for the 20 minutes that the car drives. But it soon stops in front of a large brick building. 

“Do you live here?” Was this your new home? You wondered. 

“No one lives here,” he answers shortly. 

He exits the car, holding the door open for you. Following him out, you hear the voice of a man greet Coriolnaus. 

“Mr. Snow. Welcome.” 

The man was a little overweight in a suit that was finely tailored to him. He had bleached his eyebrows and mustache, and wore many pieces of jewelry.  

“Thank you for meeting with us.” Coriolanus shook the man’s hand but returns it to yours as soon as it ended. 

“Of course, Mr. Snow. We were happy to accommodate you. Please, follow me.” 

The man leads you both into the building and through the halls but only talks to Coriolanus about the history of the building. 

It was a beautiful building that housed artwork and portraits along the walls. 

You could tell Coriolanus didn’t care but remained civil. His fingers squeeze yours as he is ushered into a room. 

Like everything in the Capitol, it is unnecessarily large and grand. Gold candle holders, rows and rows of pews made of expensive wood, oil painted artwork of important men loomed down at you. 

“Just over this way, if you would please.” 

The man leads you to a table on a small front stage. There was only one chair in front of it which Coriolanus pulls out for you. 

The man passes Coriolanus a pen and tells him where to sign. 

He does so quickly and elegantly. 

“And now for you, Madam.” 

Coriolanus passes you the pen but only small writing covered the page and you were hesitant to sign it. 

“What is this?” You look up to the man, who rocked slightly side to side.

“It’s a marriage certificate.” Coriolanus answered for him.

“Marriage?”

Did marriage in the Capitol have the same meaning as marriage in the Districts? What did marriage in the Capitol truly entail and why was Coriolanus so eager to have you sign it?

“Yes. Marriage. Now sign the paper.” His hand curls around yours so you don’t drop the pen.

“Coriolanus-” Your words are cut short when his hand latches itself under your chin and yanks it up, keeping your hand directed at the paper. He forces your hand closer to the line.

“Sign the paper,” he commands. With his hand enclosed around yours, you sign your simple signature next to his cursive.

He releases you once you do.

“If you wanted a wedding then you shouldn’t have run off.” He spat at you. 

Your hands shake uncontrollably and your eyes water but no sympathy is given by either man. 

“You’ve robbed the Capitol of the wedding of the year, truly!” 

“I think the Capitol will survive.” You feel Coriolanus tug you up, and the man follows his lead out the door. 

“I am sure you are eager to get home and rest before election day.” the man spoke. His voice echoed through the large halls. 

“May I just say what an honor it was to marry you two today! You two kids will set a trend. I’ll have young lovers knocking my door down to elope.” 

You sob at his words. 

“Forgive her. The journey was long.” 

“Of course.” 

With only three more steps until the door, the conversation died. 

Coriolanus is quick in pace, and propelled you to move faster than you could in your heels. 

You could hardly see through the tears in your eyes, so you reach blindly until you feel the car underneath your fingers. 

“Thank you, sir.” He shakes hands with the man once again. 

“Anything for our future president.”

Coriolanus opens the door and guides you inside as he says goodbye to the man. 

He allows you to cry until the car pulls up outside of the apartment, at which he tells you to stop. 

He pulls a handkerchief out of breast pocket and wipes the tears from your face as they fall. 

From the outside you could hear the driver collecting the bags from the boot. 

“You need to stop crying. We are home now.” 

You take the handkerchief off him and dap your own tears. He longingly stares out the window. 

He almost bounces in his seat. Eager to get up the stairs and back home. 

Marriage is not the worst thing to have happened to you, nor the worst thing he could do.

It didn’t really mean anything, you told yourself. The Capitol probably wouldn’t even recognize a marriage between a Capitol citizen and District. 

You push his patience as far as it would go before you are able to collect yourself. 

“Ready?” he asks. 

You give a curt nod and he swings the door open. 

The driver passes the bags to a servant dressed in the same white dress as the ones on the train. They take them back into tall metal building. 

It reached the sky in height, and a whole community of District 12 in width. 

Coriolanus knew his way well. With all the wall ways, and feature spaces of the hotel, you were sure you would get lost escaping the building, yet alone the Capitol. 

An elevator you knew as you stood in front of it. They had them in large government buildings that you would sometimes ride as you delivered material from work. 

The elevator door opens and he hits the top floor. 

 As it goes up, you feel your stomach drop. Once you reached the top floor, would you ever go down again? Was your life now confined within this building?

It reaches the penthouse too fast. Your feet refuse to move as the door opens. 

Coriolanus tries a gentle tug but as the doors try to close again, he motions turn into a pull. 

“We’re almost there.” He digs in his pocket for a key. 

His key ring that used to carry so many keys now only held three. 

The sound of an opening door is met with a loud pop of streamers. 

You flinch as the colorful tissues attack you.  

A high pitch scream precedes a weight being thrown at Coriolanus but he catches it easily and with great joy. 

You take the chance to jump back out of the way. 

“Hey,” he laughs.You watch the cousins embrace. You had once promised yourself that letters would be as close as you got to Tigris and now she stood in front of you. 

“Coryo! You’re finally home,” she captures his face in a loving embrace and he smiles back. 

A crooning sound overtakes the moment and an old women takes the spot of Tigris. 

“My boy. Future president of Panem.” 

He leans down and kisses her on the cheek. She turns her head for him to do so, coming eye to eye with you. 

She turns to you as Coriolanus releases her. 

“Don’t just stand there, child. Come forward, let me take a look at you.”

 Grandma’am eyes you, causing you to curl further into yourself. 

Coriolanus clears his throat and places his hand on your lower back to move you forward. 

“May I introduce Mrs. Snow.”

“Mrs. Snow! Oh Coryo!” Tigris gasps, “How could you?” 

“We had too. The media would never have left us alone if they knew. But-” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small jewelry box, “We saved the most important part for you: the rings.”

He takes a ring out of the box. Your hand shakes but he holds it steady as he slides the ring on. 

Fifty small rectangular diamonds cover a gold band. It was shiny and heavy on your finger. 

Tigris gasps upon seeing it but you have no reaction. 

He then passes you a gold band and holds his hand out to you. 

You push the ring on his finger quickly. 

It was enough for Tigris who claps and jumps. 

She wraps her arms around your neck while her grandmother lifts your hand up to inspect the ring. 

As they give you space, Coriolanus takes it, bringing you back into his arms. 

“I want to hear everything!” Tigris says.

She walks to the living room table and takes a bottle of champagne out of a bucket of ice.

It could have been the lack of food and water over the past three days. It could have been the pure overwhelming feeling of it all. But as the cork of the champagne is opened, your knees give way and you collapse unconscious. 

Coriolanus manages to catch you and you feel his hard arm under your head. 

You hear him call out to you before the darkness fades your vision. 

—----------

You wake at midnight in a fright. 

You knew you were in a bed but everything was pitch black. 

Was everything a dream? Was Edmund alive and just below you?

The answer was no. Coriolanus woke with your fast movements and worked quickly to pull you into his arms. 

“Hey, you’re alright. You’re alright.” 

You struggle against him in a panic. 

“You’re alright. You’re safe,” he consoles. 

“No, no, I’m not.” You feel his face under your fingertips and push against him. 

He retaliates by capturing both your wrists in his hand, pulling them down. 

“Stop it. Calm down now. You’re alright.” 

His weight tugs on your wrists as he leans back to flick on the bedside lamp. It cast a yellow light in which you could see him clearly. 

He had gone to sleep in only his underwear again. His old Commander ways were still clawing on. 

You register that you had been re-dressed into cotton pants and a large top.

“Please, Coriolanus. Let me go. I haven’t done anything,” you cry. 

He pulled you closer by your wrists so your body was leaning against his. 

"Please, I am sorry,” your tears soak his bare chest but he doesn’t move, “I am so sorry.”

He moves his arms around you so you were cradled but it did nothing to help soothe you. 

“No, no, please,” you struggle but his hold was tight. “I never did anything wrong.” 

You tried so hard to be good. Now you were being punished for it. 

“I know. I know that,” he insisted, bringing you closer. 

“It’s okay. Just go back to sleep.” 

You can’t. The image of Edmund swinging in the wind haunted you. 

“Oh Edmund,” you cried. It wasn’t his fault. He was only trying to protect you. 

Coriolanus made no comment given your state. 

“It’s alright. Everything is alright,” he repeats. He hums softly, a song that his mother used to sing when he was a child. He was surprised he still remembered it, or most of it at least. 

He used to hum it during his school years when academic pressure hindered his sleep. 

It rose his anxiety levels just from the association with those years, but it worked to settle you so he continued. 

Your mother used to hum you to sleep as well. When you had bad dreams, she would sit on your bed and run her fingers through your hair as she hummed. 

It was easier to pretend that you were only a child back in your bed with your mother next to you, protecting you from all the horrors of the world. 

—--------------

 The next morning you woke as Coriolanus finished dressing for the day. 

Your movement gains his attention, he finishes putting on his coat and comes to sit next to you on the bed. 

“Hey, how’d you sleep?”. 

He runs a warm hand over your face. You sit up to brush him off. 

“I’ve told Tigris and grandma’am to leave you alone today so you can rest.”

Your stomach drops at the thought of being isolated again. You couldn’t be left alone with your thoughts today. 

Already it’s racing with guilt. 

You latch onto his arm. 

“No. Coriolanus please, don’t lock me in here.” 

He looks to weigh up his options before deciding.  

“I won’t. But you need to show me that you can behave. I won’t have you upsetting Tigris or Grandma’am.

“I won’t,” you promise. 

“They don’t need to know the full extent of us. Only that we are happy to be here together.”

“Ok, Coriolanus.” 

You shove the thick blanket off and swing your body off the bed. 

You follow Coriolanus to the kitchen table where Tigre’s and grandma’am sat eating breakfast. 

Tigre’s rises as you enter into the room. She keeps her distance so not to overwhelm you. 

“Y/N, how are you feeling?” She asks. 

“Much better now. Thank you. I am sorry if I offended you yesterday. I wasn't feeling well.” 

“No! Of course not.” Tigris exclaims, “God, you’ve been through so much. I couldn’t even imagine how you are feeling right now.”

Your eyes flick to her. Coriolanus had made it seem like her and Grandma’am knew nothing of the truth, but could she know at least part of it?

“You must have been so frightened when those rebels took you to the mountains,” Grandma’am commented between a scone. 

Your eyes shoot at Coriolanus, who was already looking at you, silently telling you to be quiet.  

A twisted truth is as good as the truth itself in his books. 

“Yes, I was. Everyday. But I knew Coriolanus was coming.”

“Our Coriolanus isn’t scared of coward rebels!” Grandma’am exclaims. 

Coriolanus was quick to change the subject at the first sound of silence, “Tigris, she hasn’t had breakfast yet.

The breakfast table is near silent as everyone ate. 

It was a relief when Coriolanus kissed you goodbye. The company of Tigres was much easier to keep. 

—-----‘

Coriolanus was busy now that he was home. Interviews and meetings took most of his time now that the elections were coming up. 

You saw little of Grandma’am, but Tigris almost always was in the apartment. 

She tried to be kind to you. She often went out of her way to check on you. But you avoided her. Staying in the room you were placed in. If you said the wrong thing to her, it was sure to make its way back to Coriolanus, and your family was to pay for it. 

Your days before Coriolanus returned home were filled by looking out the window, or preparing an item of clothing for Coriolanus. He always wanted to have at least one thing on that you had some part in preparing. 

He tore off his buttons so you could sew them back on, you shined brand new shoes that didn’t need it, ironed shirts that had already been ironed for him. 

You didn’t argue when he asked you to do it. 

If you performed an action in the way he wanted, he would give you updates on your family. 

From what you gathered, they were fed and allowed an hour outside together. 

 The day of the election came fast. 

It felt as if it happened overnight, but it had been three days since your arrival in the Capitol. 

The election was called at eight o'clock which meant the entire day was filled with buzz.  People came in and out all day. Coriolanus spent the entire day on the phone, or in between breaks talking to the people in the room.

You sat in his chair as he worked standing. You watched the people as they came in and out. They looked different from people back home. 

They all had something unusual about them. Funny color hair, a piercing that stuck out of their face. One thing they all had in common was their high quality clothing. Nothing like the sacks District clothes are made out of. 

Grandma’am and Tigris had gone out to prepare themselves for the election. It was nearly night but they had been gone since the morning.

Coriolanus was in the middle of getting a haircut when two females came up to you and requested that you followed them. 

Coriolanus told you to do so from where he sat. You didn’t ask why as you followed them to the bedroom. 

With the door shut, they tell you to shower and come back so they can dress you for the election. 

The news causes you to tense. You were not ready to face the Capitol. 

But with no choice, you take a shower and return for them to do their work. 

They only talk to each other as they work. 

They dress you in a white strapless gown that split up the side to show more white sparkly tulle, and white heels that were shorter and easier to walk in than the pink heels that you had at the train station. 

They gossip about elite members of the Capital. Who was cheating on who. Who wore what. 

One burns you with a hot iron as she curls your hair because she leans forward to laugh. No apology is given as she continues to talk. She pins small white roses throughout your hair. The pins scrape your head as they enter your hair but you make no complaint. 

You were grateful when they finished dressing you. As soon as they begin to pack up, you exit the room without a goodbye.

You run into Coriolanus, still with his team in the living room. He stood in front of a tall mirror as you had taken the main bedroom. 

He matched you in white. Admittedly, he looked gorgeous in a double-breasted suit with his white shirt peeking out from it. The first few first buttons were undone and a silver chain with your ring hung around his neck. 

He was fixing a white rose to his chest pocket when his eyes caught you in the mirror behind him. 

“We are finished here,” he tells the room, who pack up immediately. 

He looked nervous, and you supposed he should be. All his life had been leading up to this moment. 

He talks low to you so the others don’t hear as they leave, almost whispering in your ear. 

“Just a few more hours and you’ll be looking at the President of Panam.” 

Your hands shook, and you flexed them to try and shake the nerves out. 

Coriolanus, always hyper-aware, noticed, capturing your hands and bringing them up to his face to kiss. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one shaking?” he jokes. 

“I don’t want to go. You don’t need me there.” 

“I do need you there.” He releases you, annoyed at your resistance. 

You sit down on the couch as the people make their way to the door. 

“Do I need to remind you that your performance tonight is crucial to your family's survival?” 

“No,” you say softly, “That’s never left my mind.” 

He crouches down in front of you, resting his hands on your waist. 

 “Good. Now people know you are District, but you’re not to mention it. If anyone mentions it to you, you tell me straight away.” He flicks your chin up so you are looking at him and not at your lap. “Hey, straight away.”

You nod your head in understanding. You had no plan to talk freely with any of the Capitol brood anyway.

“As first lady of Panem, you’ll be required to attend performances like these from time to time. I need to know I can trust you not to embarrass me when you do.”

You nod your head once again, “You can.” 

You remember Ravenstill’s wife. All she did was smile and sit pretty. You could do the same, regardless of the pain you felt. 

He raises himself slightly to press his lips against yours before rising entirely. 

“The car is waiting down stairs.” You rise with him and he takes your hand in his through the walk. 

The car ride is silent. Coriolanus began to practice his speech again as you stared out the window. 

The Capitol seems quieter than usual. No car buzzed around as you drove. One or two passed but they seemed to be in their own rush. Not a person roamed the street.

All of the Capitol held their breath as they waited for their new President. 

The car stops in front of a huge fountain surrounded by a large field. It was out of place amongst the sky scrapers. It was filled with people, all wearing peculiar colorful clothing. Nearly all of them wore a white rose upon their chest.

They surrounded a large stage lit up with bright lights.

Rows of chairs were lined across the back of the stage.  People hovered around them, all wearing white like you. They greet Coriolanus as he walks through. Some of them even greet you, but you hate them all the same.

You see his grandmother and cousin sitting directly behind the podium. He seems to be trying to make a beeline to them, but people keep interrupting them.

He keeps his temper, politely dismissing them as he wades through the crowd. 

His grandmother jumps up to kiss him. He uses his spare hand to bring her in close.

“President Snow, we salute you,” she says sincerely.

“I’ve not won anything yet, Grandma’am,” but his smirk told that he knew he was about to.

Grandma’am wore a hat of white roses but a simple white dress suit and pearls.

Tigris rose as well to hug her cousin now her grandmother was out of the way. Her strapless white dress hugged her curves right down to her ankles where the dress dissolved into white tulle. You could see the outline of white roses on her dress too. Her makeup was centered around the pale pink eyeshadow that was blown out towards her temple.

Finishing with Coriolanus, Tigris turns and hugs you, but you couldn’t manage it back.

Coriolanus leans down to whisper in your ear, “All you have to do is sit down next to Tigris and smile. Can you do that?”

Your families life depended on it, so you smile back at him to show that you could.

The Panem national anthem began to play bringing a hush over the audience as they all go back to stand in front of their seat and sing.

Coriolanus stood next to you, still holding your hand as he sung. The camera flashed in your face and you decide it was better to sing along.

The song finishes and the large screen behind you switches to a man with a microphone on one side and another man in a field similar to Coriolanus. You assumed the latter was his political opponent.

It was the cue for the people on stage to take a seat. You take yours next to Tigris and Coriolanus walks up to the podium.

Smaller screens are prompted up along the front of the stage so that no one on the stage was facing backwards.

You watch as the man with the microphone gives his introduction, introducing himself as Lucky Flickerman before the screen flashes to Coriolanus, and then cuts to Augustus.

You eye the open field. The guards were all focused to the front. There were a few people off the side but they looked mostly like stylists and operation managers. They would hardly put up a fight for you.

You could make it. At least on to the street. But how would you make it back home? How would you free your family? How could you live with yourself in District 12 without Edmund?

Tigress reaches out and entangles your hand with her in comfort. It brings you back to the election.

Lucky performs a few magic tricks as the final votes are counted.

“Now for the moment we have all been waiting for.'' An assistant runs up and places an envelope into Lucky’s hand.

“The results are in people! Who has Panem chosen to be our new leader? The savvy businessman or the fearless Commander? Let’s find out!”

Not a word was spoken as the man opened the envelope. It must have been the result he wanted, for he broke out into a grin and began to shake his head.

“Just as I predicted. Ladies and gentleman, the new President of Panem: Coriolanus Snow!”

The crowd erupts in cheering around you. Loud popping sounds precedes colorful confetti dropping from mounted cannons. Tigris lets go of your hand to clutch Coriolanus.

She sprang up from her seat and captured his head between her arms. His grandmother is next up to crowd him. He brushed off people quickly, he had a speech to make.

You wonder if you should get up but there were already too many people around him. You would only be in the way.

He makes his way to you, bending down to place a kiss on your cheek before turning back to shake hands with those around him.

The win came as no surprise to him but he wore a large smile, and seemed almost giddy at the news.

He turns back to the podium and people quieten as he gives his speech. You heard him mutter it a million times. You could almost recite it for him.

“Today is a new day for Panem,” it began.

You eye your freedom just down the stairs but remain seated and smiling.

You’re not sure how long Coriolanus spoke for, but the applause and cheering told you he had stopped.

Before you knew it he was standing in front of you with an outstretched hand. You take it and he stops to kiss his family, giving them instructions as to where they should now go before he leads you down the steps and into the crowd.

You shrink back as they gather around him. His grasp hurt. Your bones in your hand felt as if they were about to pop out of place. But it was too easy to get lost in the crowd, so he wouldn’t loosen it.

Too many voices overlapped to hear any single one. A few pats on your shoulder was all the attention you received while Coriolanus was drowning in a sea of people.

You couldn’t make out his words over the people and the music. You let yourself be overtaken with the senses.

You smiled and nodded at people as you passed them. It was Coriolanus’ big night, you couldn’t even fathom the punishment if you were to make a mistake tonight.

You stay close to him, just over his shoulder.

He looks back to check on you one or two times but never opens his mouth.

Confetti had been hidden in his curls. You focused on counting the pieces.

The whirl-pool of people seemed to never end. As soon as one person faded another took their place.

It must have been half an hour before Coriolanus made the small distance to the apartment block.

It was 30 stories with a roof top bar that was pumping with lights and music.

The rest of the people would mingle down below with food and drinks. Huddling around the colorful glass standing tables.

You reach the entrance, guarded by two peacekeepers, and Coriolanus leads you in front of him as he presses the button for the elevator.

It was quick to come and Coriolanus pushed your hips to make you move inside.

He lets go of you as you enter and gives a wave to his fans as the door closes.

The elevator is dead quiet. Only the faint sound of pumping music could be heard.

You think he is too wrapped up in his victory to pay you any mind now you were out of sight of the public.

You were relieved almost to be out from under his attention. But he moves quick to push you up against the wall and smash his lips onto yours.

His hands steady your face as he assaults your lips.

He leaves you out of breath and grins at you widely for it.

The door dings open, and he pulls back from you. Only taking a loose grip of your hand.

Another cheer for the President was heard over the music as he steps out.

You look around the room at all the people in white. Supporters of a maniac.

Tigris and Grandma’am were offered a lounge chair as they ate and drank.

“Look,” he spoke to you, taking a green drink off a tray offered to him, “The apple pie drink you wanted. I requested it especially for you.”

He passed you the drink as a man approached him.

You managed to get a “thank you” out before the stranger began to talk.

Coriolanus paid you no more mind the rest of the night. He spoke and joked freely with the party goers while stringing you along behind him.

A few spoke to you about mundane things but Coriolanus was quick to end any longer talk then a few seconds.

The drink did taste like apple pie. A low rate apple pie. You could bake one much better. But for a drink it was fine. You ended up drinking three before Coriolanus snatched the fourth and placed it on a nearby table.

Tigres caught your eye a couple of times. You knew she was making sure you were alright. She was kind, and so ‘un-Capitol’.

Grandma’am was more true to her up-bringing. She insisted on teaching you the ways of the Capitol, and training you out of your ‘District ways’.

“It'll be our secret,” she told you over breakfast this morning, “I’ll defend you against the District rumors.”

In a way you supposed it was sweet of her. Although her intentions could very well be for Coriolanus' benefit rather than yours.

The later it got, the quieter it got.

People began disappearing. Others passed out on sofas and lounges.

Coriolanus' energy never seemed to drain, but Tigris’ and Grandma’am’s did.

Tigris had come over and interrupted Coriolanus' conversation. She offered to take you home with her and Grandma’am but Coriolanus was resistant.

“She’s fine, Tigris. I’ll bring her home with me.”

If you had been on equal standing with Coriolanus, you would have protested and just left but you were mud under his shoe, so you smiled at Tigris and told her you would see her in the morning.

Tigris kissed both of you goodbye. You hold on to her for too long. You could tell from the way Coriolanus squeezed your hand.

The party continued long after she had gone.

Your legs hurt from standing in the heels and your dress was too tight to have eaten all you did over the course of the night.

Coriolanus could sense that you were nearing the end of what you could take, so he began his final lap of victory around the room.

You were beyond grateful when he ushered you into the car.

You sighed as you sunk down into the plush leather seats, taking off your heels instantly.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said as the car entered the main road which had returned to its normal state of business even late at night, “You were very well behaved.”

“Congratulations on your win,” you return.

“Snow always lands on top,” he talks softly as he gazes out to the city.

The car rolls through the city smoothly. Coriolanus watches it pass from the window.

You feel half-asleep resting your head back on the seat.

You feel him move you down to a lying position and your eyes shoot wide open. His fingers brush your skin as he slides the skirt of your dress up.

“What are you doing?” You catch his hands and he lowers his head.

He hushes you as he slides your panties off your hips, “All the drivers talk.”

Trapped in a car in a city that kills your people for entertainment, you lay back and don’t make a sound.

You clutch the back of the seat in a tight hold as Coriolanus begins.

Edmund was barely cold in the ground and here you were, being eaten out by the man who killed him.

You try not to focus on it as Coriolanus' lips and tongue work. It pulls a moan from you and Coriolanus hits your thigh.

You press your tongue between your teeth to avoid making noise. A hand makes its way into Coriolanus’ curls and tugging on them gives you a sense of satisfaction.

It encourages him however and his movements become more targeted and passionate.

The car pulls to the curb in front of his house by the time you had made a mess in the backseat.

You lay back with your legs spread as you come down from your high.

A chill shoots through you as the door is opened by the driver but Coriolanus pulls it closed before he could see the scene.

You get up despite not being ready too. Coriolanus grabs your shoes and pockets your panties, taking your hand when its free.

You both emerge from the car as if nothing had happened.

It was late and cold. You thank the driver as you pass him.

The building was huge. Nearly all the floor was covered in titles and your feet made a sound against them.

You try to slow your walk to quite the sound, but Coriolanus was eager to get up to the apartment.

He storms across the lobby, and courtyard before reaching the steps that lead to the elevator.

He presses the button too many times. It doesn’t make it come any faster.

The house is dark and silent as you enter. The women went to bed hours ago, and you were hopping to follow suit.

Coriolanus leads you to his bedroom which is large and not yet decorated.

You pull free from him as you enter. Immediately you tear all the pins and roses from your hair.

You hear Coriolanus drop your shoes.

He clears his throat to gain your attention.

“Your brother and mother have been freed from the compound.”

Your fingers freeze in your hair. It felt as if he had lifted a great weight off your chest. You turn to him in gratitude.

“Thank you, Coriolanus.”

He smiles down at you before stooping down to your height and placing a firm kiss to your lips.

You push back against his shoulders after the kiss continues past a normal amount of time.

He pushes back, bracing you against the bed with him on top of you.

His lips turn to your neck as he unzips the back of your dress.

“Coriolanus, please don’t,” you beg.

He slides the dress’s straps off your shoulder as he responds, “Please, just give this to me. Don’t make me take it.’’

The dress is taken off you, and Coriolanus strips it off with kisses.

Only when a kiss is placed on your hip do you begin to struggle.

This man had tormented you for months. Starved you. Robbed you. Killed the man you loved. You would give him nothing freely.

You kick and push him away, but he is stronger.

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay.” He pulls you upward by your wrists to the pillows.

“No! Get off of me!”

“Y/N, please. Please,” he pleads.

You continue to fight but he persists.

 “Please, don’t make me do this.”

“No. No. Edmund! Mum!”

“Shut up,” it was less of a command and more of a plea, “Please, shut up.” 

You do. What would your resistance gain you? A few more seconds until the inevitable. 

His grip loosens as you are still beneath him. 

With only a weak hold of your wrists, he pulls off his clothes. You can hear the movement but can’t force your eyes to open. 

Tears leak down your cheeks but you refrain from making a sound. 

“It’s alright. I’ll take care of you.” 

He lines himself up and pushes in with ease. The pain was subsided due to your wetness from the car ride but the first slow thrusts felt slightly painful and uncomfortable. 

You whine slightly as you adjust to the intrusion. You fight to release your wrists from his hold, you wanted to push back on his shoulders, feeling as if he was too deep. 

“It’ll only hurt for a little bit,” he promised, continuing his slow movements. 

He kisses you as you let out another whine. 

Soon the pain did stop, and an enjoyable sensation began to form. 

Coriolanus tried his best to remain slow, but as he got lost in his own lust, he forgot about your pain. 

It felt as if he was bruising you. But his mouth never left yours so you couldn’t voice a complaint.

Your hips jerk away from him, trying to ease the pressure but his spare hand stills your hip, making you take the full brunt of what he wanted to give you. 

He pulls his head back from yours and groans.

“Ah,” he grunts. 

“Coriolanus-” you had wanted to ask him to slow down but you feel yourself tightening around him as you come. 

His hand moves from your wrists and intertwines with your hand. He presses his weight down as he picks up his pace to chase his own high. 

“Wait, wait!” you were through. Every second after was too much. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he grunts. 

You groan from the pressure as he continues. 

“Almost there, darling.” 

His last few thrusts are hard but the pressure turns into a warm pool between your legs. 

Coriolanus is still as he rests his forehead upon your shoulder. You don’t move either, unsure of what to do. 

A few moments later and he raises his head, repositioning himself so his arms cage around your head. 

 He drags a finger down the bridge of your nose and it runs off your cheek like a tear. 

“Welcome to the Capitol, Mrs. Snow.

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[chaoticharrington]

Chapter Four: The Dungeon Master and Depression

***BEFORE YOU READ ANY FURTHER THERE IS GOING TO BE SEX, HEAVY BDSM THEMES, AND OTHER GENERAL NSFW THINGS. IF YOU ARE A MINOR/A BLANK BLOG/ A BLOG WITH NO AGE PLEASE DO NOT INTEREACT! IF I SEE IT, I WILL BLOCK IMMEDIATELY! THANKS!<3***

Pairing: Professor! Steve Harrington x Best Friends Dad! Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, alcohol consumption, Steve needs a hug, sad Steve, Eddie being the literal sexiest man on the planet, daddy kink, spit kink, spanking, cum eating, squirting, bondage, masterbation, Dom! Eddie, dirty talk, pet names, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), BDSM themes, Eddie and Steve are in their early to mid 40s and reader is in her mid 20s

Summary: Eddie shows you a side of him you haven't seen before and things with Steve take a turn for the worst

Authors Note: Hi yall, i just wanted to say thank you for all the love on this series so far, ive really enjoyed writing it! also im very nervy about posting this chapter bc the smut is intense! i prommy it wont always be this intense but anyways ENJOY :D 9k

**Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three**

The next few days were spent mostly consoling Violet, she had made the decision to break up with Quinn. She didn’t trust them anymore and you didn’t blame her. You and Eddie took turns holding her when she cried or getting her to shower and eat food. It left little time for you and Eddie to spend time alone, never getting the chance to finish what you started after your date.

You could steal kisses here and there, but no heavy petting. It was driving you insane, it was like the universe was punishing you for dating your best friend’s dad.

After a few days she decided she needed to get out of Hawkins for a little while and went to spend a week at her mom’s. You made her promise to text her whenever she needed, and Eddie offered again to go over to talk to Quinn. She waved both of you off, reassuring you that she’d be fine. You drove her to the airport and off she went.

It made you feel guilty that you were so relieved that she had left, you felt like you were the worst best friend in the world. First dating her dad, and secondly happy she was leaving you after just having a brutal break-up.

What kind of friend are you?

You spent the next few days catching up on school, finally getting a chance to focus now that you didn’t have to worry about Violet as much. Not wanting to waste the very limited time the two of you had at Eddies, you spent the nights at his house covering the entire house in random textbooks and various versions of assignments. Sometimes the two of you would sit on the couch, he would watch tv while you studied, or you’d be in a chair out in the garage while Eddie played guitar and smoked. Or your favorite, cuddled up on his lap on his bed, Eddie silently reading a book and caressing the skin available to him.

It was perfect domestic bliss, he’d cook the two of you breakfast in the morning, and he’d come home to a homecooked meal in the evening. The only thing you were missing was his cock, mid terms were coming up and you were absolutely swamped. Spending all of your time that wasn’t spent at school, or working, was dedicated to more school. It was frying your brain.

Then one day you had finally had enough, another one of your professors had added another paper due on top of studying for all of your other exams. You had so many things you needed to get done before Thanksgiving you thought your head was going to explode.

You spent some time crying in your car that day, before walking up the driveway into Eddies house. Now a second home to you, you take off your shoes and head to Eddies bedroom and snuggling under the sheets, breathing in his scent. You hear Eddies familiar footsteps coming up the stairs into the bedroom the two of you basically shared.

“hey sweetpea-“ the rest of his greeting dying on his lips.

You feel him before you see him, he just slides into bed with you and holds you tightly against him. Then you lose it some more, crying into one of his pillows, just so stressed out. You needed all of it to go away, you didn’t want to think anymore.

He pushes the hair out of your face and wipes away your tears, “hey talk to me baby, what’s goin on? Hmm?” he questions, concern in his voice.

“It’s too much” you croak, turning over and nuzzling your face into his chest.

“Make it go away, please make it go away, my brain is so tired, I just need a break!” you sob harder into his embrace.

Eddie wrapped his arms around your body, protecting you from the outside world.

“I know baby, I know, I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry” he says calmly, leaving little kisses in your hair.

The two of you tangled up together in silence, just him touching your skin and you holding on to him for dear life. It stays like this for a few minutes. You can practically hear Eddies mind working a thousand miles a minute.

“... do you really want it to go away?” Eddie asks, almost a whisper.

You nodded feverishly into his chest, grabbing his shirt and pulling him impossibly closer to you.

“Please,” you whisper into his chest.

Eddie pulls the two of you apart so you can see his face, his eyes serious with anticipation. He caresses your cheek with his hand, running his thumb across your lips.

“I wanna show you something, you don’t have to say yes. But I think it might help.” He says, waiting for your answer.

You nod your head, ready to try anything to get your brain to calm down. He takes you by your hands, carefully getting you up and on your feet. Being so gentle with you, almost like he was afraid you’d break if he moved to quick or touched you too hard. Eddie led you down the stairs into the kitchen, right in front of the basement door.

He looked at you anxiously, you rarely if ever saw him anxious, it made your heart rate spike a little feeding off his nervous energy.

He opens the door and leads you down into the basement, immediately confused by Eddies immense anxiety. It’s just a basement, it had loads of Eddies DnD books nicely tucked away on bookshelves, a huge circular table in the middle with papers scattered all over it, and a bunch of props and miniatures that you assumed Eddie used for various DnD campaigns. Eddie meets you at the bottom of the stairs and puts his hand in yours, his eyes still timid.

“Sorry it’s a bit of a mess, I’ve been working on a new campaign.” He says while nervously scratching the back of his head. You squeeze his hand giving him some reassurance.

“Look, I know we haven’t been dating very long, but I really fucking like you. So just bear with me kay? I don’t wanna scare you off,” he states, fiddling with your fingers in his hands.

“You could never scare me off Eddie” you say plainly, having more admiration for him than almost anybody else.

With a sigh he guides you past all the DnD stuff into a hidden black door under the stairs, the door locked with a key padlock.

Eddie grabs a key off a chain that’s on his neck that he wears every day, you always thought it was just for decoration and not practical use. He turns the key into the lock and leads you into a dark room and turns on the light.

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust to the room, not really sure what you’re seeing. The walls are blood red, various toys, whips, paddles, and a saint Andrews cross leaning in the corner between two walls. At the center of the room was a bed with black satin sheets, with a black bed frame with various hooks and chains attached to it.

You look at Eddie in surprise, you didn’t expect him to have a whole fucking sex dungeon in his basement. You were impressed, you usually only read about stuff like this in your books. Never thinking that you’d actually get to experience it in real life.

“This is uh, welcome to my dungeon” he says, grandiosely waving his hands to show off the room, chuckling nervously to himself. You smile lightly at him, still your goofy Eddie.

“You can totally tell me to fuck off, and we don’t ever have to talk about this ever again, scouts honor. I just.. I thought maybe because of the books you like to read. Maybe we had uhm similar interests,” he says, closing the door behind the two of you.

You’re still in awe of what you see before you, finding something new to look at every second, you start to feel yourself getting excited. The anxiety melting away the longer you were in this room, like it was magic.

“Please say something, anything, you’re killin’ me here darlin,” he says, pulling your hand to his lips, leaving tiny kisses in their wake.

You walk farther into the room, dusting your fingers along the various toys and instruments on the wall. Eddie follows suit, rubbing his arms up and down your shoulders while you look. You turn around and wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a deep kiss. He looks at you hungrily, waiting for your next move, you’ve never wanted him more.

“Turn off my brain Eds, please,” you beg, putting on your prettiest doe eyes.

Eddie curses under his breath and shakes his head trying to concentrate. He hugs you tightly as a thank you that you didn’t run out of the room kicking and screaming. He sits the two of you on a bench at the foot of the bed, holding your hands in his.

“Alright sweetness, I gotta lay down a few rules before we play, okay?” He says, clearly in his element. You nod, understanding what he means. Being familiar with the world of BDSM, but never getting to act on it before.

“First things first, safe words, If I ask you for your color, you respond with Green, Yellow, or Red. Green meaning you’re okay mentally and physically and I can keep going. Yellow meaning that you’re reaching your limit and I need to check in with you. Red meaning stop, you say this word and whatever scene we are doing will stop immediately and we will go into aftercare. I want you to feel safe during every single part of this, so don’t be afraid to stop a scene, okay? This is supposed to be fun for the both of us. Ya with me so far?” He smiles lightly trying to keep the tension light but letting know that he means business.

“With ya Eds,” you say with a nod of your head.

You can practically hear his heart swelling with pride. He continues to go through some more safety rules, what to do if you’re bound or gagged and can’t say a safe word. He goes through some walk throughs of what some of the various toys do, to see what piques your interest. He asks you if you know any of your hard or soft limits, you give him some basic ones, open to a lot considering you didn’t have a ton of real life experience in this department. You were starting to get a little nervous, hoping that you would live up to Eddies expectations.

He senses the panic inside you and squeezes your hands. “Don’t worry okay? You agreeing to try this with me is already a dream come true, I just want to help you feel better, help you let go.” He says sweetly.

You take a deep breath and lean back into him on the bench. He rubs his hands soothingly up and down your arms and then around your waist, tugging up the bottom of your shirt and lifting it over your head, and does the same with your leggings. He has you stand in front of him, leaving you in only your bra and underwear, your skin erupting in goosebumps when it hits the cold air.

“Beautiful,” he says breathlessly, his eyes scanning over every inch of your body. You look at him, you can see his cock already stiffening in the confines of his pants.

“Bend over for me baby,” he commands. Situating you over his lap, ass in the air, making your thoughts immediately cloud with want. You had never been in such a compromising position before and you loved it, showing yourself off to him.

“I’ll start slow, remember, any time you need to stop just say red and I’ll stop okay?” he reminds you one last time before he starts.

He readies you by palming each of your cheeks with his hands, increasing the pressure with each touch. You can already feel the heat rising in your body, your legs squirming together trying to find any sort of friction. Eddie seeing your desperation grabs your legs forcing them apart with his leg.

“You’re so fuckin cute, you’ll learn,” he warns, earning you a light slap across your left check. You gasp not expecting it, making your eyes roll back in pleasure, grinding your hips against Eddie’s clothed legs.

Two more light slaps come down on each cheek, eliciting a whimper from your lips, your hips grinding up wanting more. You can feel his length twitch underneath you with every smack, and your wetness seeping into your panties, you’d never been this desperate in your life.

“What’s your color princess, you doin okay?” he questions, genuine concern in his voice that makes your heart swell.

“Green Eds, m’ good,” you say hazily, your mind starting to cloud over.

With that confirmation he slowly increases the intensity of each slap, switching between your two cheeks. It only made you whimper louder, wanting even more. The slaps were now punishing, surely your cheeks bright pink from the abuse. You were surprised, you never thought something like this would feel so good. But you couldn’t help it, your panties now completely soaked through.

“You like that, you like when I hurt you?” he says, leaning into the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine.  You nod wildly, not trusting your words.

You hear Eddie click his tongue, “Nuh uh pretty girl, down here you gotta use your words. Now I’m gonna ask again, you like it when I hurt you?” he demands, landing two more harsh slaps against your bottom.

“Yes, yes Eddie I like when you hurt me” you say desperately. Your body buzzing, every cell screaming with need. Your mind thinking of only him and the pain he gives you, mind completely blank.

“Good girl baby, doin such a good job” he praises, you smile at his praise, sinking further and further away from all the worries that had bothered you not a half hour ago.

He lands an especially mean slap on your right cheek pulling a loud moan out of your mouth, you can hear Eddies laugh vibrate through his chest.

“Fuck look at you baby, taking everything I give you. You’re my little pain slut aren’t you?” he mocks, tutting and rubbing at your now very red ass.

“Mhmm” you mutter brainlessly, trying to push your legs together, your clit on fire with need.

“Words pretty girl, I need words, that’s your last warning before you regret it,” he warns, gifting you another brutal slap.

“Y-yes, your pain slut, all yours,” you babble pathetically, desperate tears begging to spill from your eyes.

“Fuck me, yeah you are, C’mere let me look at you, get on your knees f’me” he says breathlessly, helping you off his lap and down between his legs. You lay your head against one of his knees, looking up at him between your eyelashes.

He brushes his hand across your cheek, rubbing your lips with his thumb. In your brainless state you allow his thumb into your mouth sucking on it while maintaining eye contact. You felt so free, knowing that he was going to take care of you, that you didn’t have to think anymore, giving up control gave your brain freedom that you wouldn’t have otherwise.

“Perfect” he utters, barely above a whisper, mesmerized by the way your mouth was sucking his thumb in, swirling the tip of his thumb with your tongue. Wanting more than just his thumb you tug on his pants and belt with your hand, but it wasn’t your turn to be in control. Eddie pulls the bottom of your chin up, straining your neck to meet his demand.

He pinches your cheeks together, forcing your mouth open wider. He takes his thumb out of your mouth replacing it with his pointer and middle fingers, seeing how deep you can put them down your throat. While maintaining eye contact, you suck his fingers all the way to the back of your throat until you choke lightly on them.

“You look so pretty with your mouth all full” he says as he leans down to leave a kiss on the side of your very full mouth.

All the praise becoming too much, squirming aimlessly in the air, whimpering around Eddies fingers. He seems to get a kick out of your desperation, cursing under his breath. All made more apparent by his very hard cock outlined in his pants.

“Alright sweet thing, climb up on the bed for me” he commands, tapping the silk sheets on the bed. You do as your told, meanwhile Eddie removes his shirt, belt, and pants. You look at him hungrily, with the playing field now level.

He sits down onto the bed next to you, pulling you into a deep kiss. Your bodies melt together, his hands everywhere, grabbing every inch of you. The two of you relax onto the bed, letting him kiss and nip and your skin, slowly taking off your bra and panties until you were completely bare in front of him.

He pulls your legs apart, not allowing you to hide any part of yourself from him. You were embarrassed by how wet you had gotten just from that act alone, he barely touched you.

Eddie curses under his breath, pulling apart your folds to see you dripping down your thighs.

“My needy needy girl”, he coos, dipping one of his fingers into your entrance, gathering some of your release on his fingers. He brings it up to your mouth, you suck in his fingers eagerly, wanting to please. Your release taste tangy and sweet, you moan around his fingers at the dirty act. Dipping his fingers back at your entrance, taking some of your release for himself, moaning around his fingers.

Focusing his attention back on you, he straddles you and puts your hands above your head and kisses you deeply. You feel him grind against your core making you buck up against him. Your groans filling the room, the tension becoming too much to bear.

“Need you eds, please,” you beg, the pressure between your legs driving you insane. That’s the only confirmation Eddie needed before taking his boxers off, sliding his throbbing cock in between your soaked folds. You wrap your legs around his back, pushing him harder against you.

He lines up his cock up to your entrance and slowly pushes in, his length pushing up against your cervix as he bottoms out. You whine, biting down on his shoulder, provoking a curse from his mouth.

“Color baby?” he asks breathlessly against your skin.

“Green Eds, really fucking green,” you grin against his shoulder, kissing the tattoo along his jaw.

Your words, diminishing the last of his resolve as he starts to thrust in and out of your heat slowly. Your eyes glass over, the pleasure being too much, you had never been so full. Not even your dildo doing half as much as Eddies cock.

“Shit, your pussy was fucking made for me, made to take my fucking cock,” he growls, biting down on a part of your neck, trying to contain his groans and whines.

You dig your claws into his back, wishing him deeper inside of you. Eddie using that as an okay to go faster, he grabs an edge of the bed frame for leverage. The wet sounds of his cock entering you drowning out your whimpers and moans.

“Uh, uh, uh, oh, fuuuckk E-eddie” you wail, your eyes rolling back and your mouth falling open.

“You like that baby, you like it when I fuck you like the little slut you are? All you needed was a few slaps on your ass for you do go dumb huh?” he mocks, pistoning harder into your core.

“Yes, yes I fucking love it, more please,” you beg, you wanted to see how much more you could handle, the pleasure building between your legs.

Eddie takes one of his hands off the bed frame, cupping the sides of your jaw with his hand.

“Open,” he demands. You obey, all rational thoughts gone long ago. Taking the opportunity, he spits sloppily into your mouth, you swallow and take what he gives your greedily.

“Atta girl, doing what your told” he sighs proudly, going back to concentrating rocking his hips against yours with vigor. You could feel yourself getting close, all of it becoming too much, the fucking, the slapping, the dirty talk, it was all perfect. You were plummeting quickly to your release, your walls spasming in anticipation.

“If you keep squeezing me like that m’ not gonna last much longer,” he confesses, leaving little kisses on your neck.

“Eds- I- fuck- I’m gonna cum- please cum in me please, need your cum,” you beg, feeling your release threatening to take over.

“Fuck,” he curses, you can feel his pace getting sloppier, fucking you through your release. Your legs shaking, mouth open in a silent scream, eyes glazed over, having the biggest orgasm you’ve ever had in your life.

Your walls clamp down on Eddie, not lasting much longer after you, spilling his seed into your waiting center. You feel his release spill out onto your thighs and sheets.

“Please tell me you’re on the pill” he mutters into your chest, sweat covering both of your bodies. You giggle and caress his hair, playing with his dark brown and greying curls.

“Yeah, ‘m on the pill,” you confirm, leaving a kiss at the top of his head. Eddie sighs thankfully on your chest, followed by a few minutes of silence from the two of you. Basking in each others after sex glow, gentle touches and light kisses.

You stay cuddled up for a while, neither of you wanted to go back to reality. The basement was like your safe place, where both of you could let go, like really let go. He saw things in you today that up until now, you had never let anyone see that side of you. He allowed you the same, taking down his walls showing you everything he had to offer.

He showed that he really cared about you, that he could take care of you even when your brain was against you. That was something you had never had before, someone who knew you and cared about you enough to help you fight the endless battles in your brain. You swore to yourself right there that you’d help him fight his battles too.

After a while he got up and got you a glass of water and a warm washcloth to help wipe you off. Your center still sensitive from your previous activities. Eddie was gentle, taking his time, making sure you were physically okay. He even put cream on your sore, soon to be bruised ass, after many many kisses that made you blush.

His teddy bear eyes looking into yours, while the two of you lay naked in bed, him painting circles on your face.

“How’s your head now baby? Better?” he asked hopeful. Tears form at the tips of your eyes, you nod your head vigorously. Your tears making Eddies eyes fill with concern.

“What baby? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” he asks soothingly.

You shake your head, trying to find the words for what you were feeling. “No no I’m fine, I’m just.. happy. My brain is so quiet, I can’t remember the last time my brain was so quiet.” You sob into Eddies chest, pulling him closer into you. He wraps his arms around you and shushes your tears, wiping them from your face leaving little kisses in their wake.

“It’s okay baby, I’m here, I gotcha” he says, comforting you with more kisses, squeezing you tighter against him. The two of you spend the rest of the night down in the basement, eventually falling asleep in each other’s arms, completely content.

When you wake up the following morning, you are still wrapped up in each other’s arms, Eddie still lightly snoring. You take this time to really take him in, his beautiful chocolate brown eyes, the laugh lines around his lips, his lips so pink and plush, the light wrinkles around his eyes, the dark curly brown hair that falls in front of his face, you didn’t know how you got so lucky. Not only is Eddie quite literally the sweetest man you had ever met in your life, but he’s also the most handsome.

You snuggle back into him, basking in his embrace. A little while later he wakes from sleep, stretching out, allowing you to get up and go to the bathroom.

“Hey little missy where do you think you’re goin?” he asks, pouting in bed patting the space where you were previously occupying.

“Just gotta pee,” you whisper, hoping maybe he will fall back asleep, but Eddie is stubborn.

“Just hold it, come back and cuddle,” he whines. You chuckle and kiss the top of his head before putting on his Metallica t shirt and heading out the door and up the stairs to the kitchen. You walk into the downstairs bathroom and gasp at the state you were left in. You still had mascara smudges under your eyes from crying and cumming, your hair was sticking up every which way, you looked a mess. And yet the beautiful man downstairs still wanted you, lucky you.

After you clean up a little and comb through your hair, you head to the kitchen to grab the two of you something to eat. You hear the basement door open, and the man you were just thinking about emerges, wearing only his boxers.

“I get to fuck the girl of my dreams AND she made me breakfast, I can die a happy man,” he remarks, enveloping you into a passionate kiss. You giggle against him, still not used how much he likes you.

“And you’re wearing my shirt,” he comments, taking a handful of your ass in each hand making you hiss, your butt still sore from the beating it received the day before.

“Just wanna touch base, everything yesterday was okay right? It wasn’t exactly what I picture our first time to be like but, I don’t regret it. You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, definitely did not disappoint,” he expresses.

“It was better than I could’ve imagined Ed, really. You were beautiful.” You confess, going on your tippy toes to steal a kiss from him.

The two of you spend the rest of the morning cuddled up on the couch eating breakfast, before you had to part ways. You had classes most of the day and Eddie had to go into the office for work.

Leaving Eddie was the hardest part of any day, but especially today. You had Steves class today, you always dreaded going after everything went down between the two of you. You wished to stay here forever.

The two of you share way too many last kisses before the two of you leave his house in your respective cars. You needed to go to your apartment before class to change, and then Sociology 101.

You waited as long as you possibly could before going into the classroom, you’ve started a routine of avoiding Steve as much as humanly possible. But when you entered the class, instead of being met by Steves sad eyes, you were met by a balding older man with grey hair. You look around at the rest of the class as you make your way to your seat, they also seem equally as confused as you. The man in the front of the class introduces himself as Professor McCarthy, he explained that he was going to take over for Steve for the time being.

“Where is Professor Harrington?” The girl who sits behind you asks, a slight whine in her voice.

“He has taken a seemingly well-deserved sabbatical,” Professor McCarthy confesses with zero empathy in his voice.

You can barely pay attention during class, your thoughts swimming threatening to drown you.

Why did he leave?

Was it because of you?

Does Robin know?

Was he forced to take a leave?

Did people find out about the two of you?   

You hated to admit it, but a small part of your brain was trying to say something. Loud enough for you to hear it through the madness.

Is he okay?

You didn’t know why, but you still cared about Steve. Even though he hurt you, you wanted to know he was alright. After so many weeks of getting to know him, you knew how much being a teacher meant to him. You knew how passionate he is about the subject he teaches; it worried you that he could just leave. It had to mean something was really wrong.

The rest of the class goes by in a blur, the new professors voice conveniently very easy to drone out. You were the first one to leave the room once class was over. Speed walking down the hall, heading to the only place you knew you’d find answers.

You knock on the door to Robins office, hoping that she was in today.

“Come in!” she calls out.

She looks startled when she sees you standing in her doorway, expecting to see a student with questions about an assignment.

“Uh, hi.” You say awkwardly, still standing in the doorway.

“Hey Y/N, come in, why don’t you sit down,” she offers kindly, already knowing why you’re here.

“Where is he?” you ask bluntly.

Robin sighs before answering, her eyes moving, trying to think of the best way to explain it to you.

“He just needed a break, and the board allowed it,” she says plainly

“I wanna talk to him,” you confess, words leaving your mouth before you could think. Yes, you were upset with Steve, definitely hurt. But that doesn’t mean that you wanted him to leave his job, the both of you are adults. You feel guilty, like you’re the reason he left, and you needed closure.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea honey,” Robin says empathetically.

Your heart drops.

“Please? At least think about it, okay? I’m not mad anymore, I just, I wanna make sure he’s okay,” you admit, hoping to clear the air.

Robin nods and promises that she’ll think about it, but she didn’t seem very convincing. The following days after, dragged on, still piled high with homework. Made worse now because your new sociology professor is the worst, he talked too fast and without any tone in his voice, you caught a few students falling asleep in his class, it was that bad.

Eddie helped a lot, staying over at your house some nights to cuddle up with you after staring at your computer screen for hours on end. You felt guilty that you were so worried about Steve, when you had the perfect man in front of you. You convinced yourself it was just guilt, you just wanted to make sure he’s okay.

Then you got lucky, one morning when you walked into Robins classroom, where you usually sat was a note.

“Here’s his number, don’t make me regret it.” Was etched into the paper.

Your heart flutters in anticipation as hope fills your chest. You spend time after class thinking about the right thing to say, do you text him? Do you call him? You decide on a text, thinking a text is less daunting than calling him.

“Hey Steve, its Y/N. heard about ur sabbatical, hope ur okay” Not really sure what to say, your finger hovers over the send button for a few seconds before you send it. Immediately followed by you throwing your phone across the room.

What the fuck are you doing?

You spend the next couple of hours on your laptop doing your homework, sneaking peaks at your phone, triple checking that you hadn’t missed any messages from Steve. You reasoned with yourself that he might be on vacation or at least just busy. You try to get out of your head and focus on your homework.

The next few days you spent checking your phone every once in awhile looking for a text from Steve that hadn’t come. You were starting to get anxious, even a little worried. The semester was coming to a close, all your assignments turned in and only one mid term left to take. You had come to terms with the idea that Steve just wasn’t going to text you back, he didn’t owe you anything, I guess you’d just have to find closure on your own.

Until one afternoon, the day before thanksgiving, you get a text.

“I miss u”

You stare at your phone, double checking that the text was coming from the right number, Steve’s number. Concern floods your system, this is unlike him.

“Steve? R u okay?”

“I meszed it all up Y/N, im sry”

You’re heart now threatening to beat out of your chest, something was wrong, really wrong. You’re old enough to know when you’re getting a drunk text, what if he was out somewhere alone in this state? You needed to make sure he was okay, or at least somewhere safe.

“Steve tell me where u are, r u safe?”

“Come overrr” is all that is written, followed by a ping to an address. You grab your keys and your coat without a second thought. You get in your car and drive faster than what was probably safe, thoughts only on Steve.

When you finally get to the address, it takes you to a huge house on the outside of town. You let yourself through the gate and park in the huge driveway. You knock on the front door, it squeaks open lightly, you take deep breath and let yourself in. The house is massive, like really big, like old money big. The place is so big, you wander around for a little while searching the various extravagant rooms on the first floor until you find Steve in what you assume is the study.

He's slumped over onto his desk, his hand holding a fancy glass filled with amber liquid. You knock on the side of the door, jostling Steve from his drunk stupor.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” his words slightly slurred.

“Uh, you texted me, you gave me this address,” you feel your heart drop into your stomach, you knew this was a bad idea.

You see Steve’s bloodshot eyes search for the memory of sending you his address, raking his hands through his hair. Steve looked like he hadn’t taken care of himself for awhile, stains all over t-shirt and sweatpants. Your heart ached seeing him this way, guilt washed over you like a tsunami. This entire time you were thinking about yourself and your own closure, and not about the clearly broken man sitting before you.

“This was a mistake, I should go,” you admit before turning in the doorway to leave the way you came in.  

“No, p-please wait! I- fuck everything is so fucked up I don’t know what to do anymore. Just stay.” He looks up at you through his glassy red eyes, begging you to stay.

You decide to stay, you step closer to his desk to get a better look at the state he’s in. He probably hasn’t showered in days, and he reeked of alcohol.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” is all you can think to say, you can’t stand to see him this way any longer.

Steve allows you to get him up and out of the chair, the two of you half stumble while he shows you how to get to the master bathroom. You help him get out of his clothes until he’s left in just his boxers, you do your best not to stare. Even in the state he’s in, you still fought the urge to drool at the sight of him. You turn on the hot water, and look at him sitting on the toilet almost completely naked.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he mumbles groggily.

You suck in a deep breath and let it out harshly, you had always known that. If you knew anything about Steve Harrington, you know that he couldn’t hurt a fly. But you couldn’t believe anything he was saying right now. He was still drunk, and you didn’t know how he was going to feel once he sobered up.

“Why don’t you get in the shower, and we can talk once you’re out, okay?” you reassure him, leaving the room to give him space.

His bedroom was a mess, clothes and random liquor bottles everywhere, you tidy it up the best you can before making your way back downstairs to the kitchen. The kitchen is huge, meant for a chef or someone who really likes to cook. But instead, you see containers of take out and microwave dinners piled in the over flowing garbage and more dishes crowding in the sink. You take out the garbage and do the dishes.

By the time you’re finishing up the dishes you hear footsteps pattering into the kitchen.

“Hi” he says meekly.

“Hi” you reply, placing the last dish into the dishwasher.

He stands next to you, one hand on the counter and one hand on his hip, trying to think of what to say. He opens and closes his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“It’s fine really Steve, I’m happy to help,” you confess, turning your body to face him.

Steve looks down at his hands, when he looks back up at you, fresh tears have formed on his lash line.

“I’m the worst, aren’t I?” he questions, his voice breaking.

Your heart broke with him, “No Steve, you’re not the worst. At little messed up, definitely. But far from the worst.”

He looks at you gratefully before he continues speaking.

“I- I thought you hated me. I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you. I don’t know how I screwed things up so badly. I’m sorry I brought you all the way out here. I just... fuck I just missed you Y/N,” he babbles, his tears now flowing down his face in little streams.

You walk a few steps closer to him, not trusting yourself to touch him.

Eddie, remember Eddie.

“I don’t hate you Steve, I could never hate you. I was just hurt and confused. Honestly, I still am hurt and confused, I just. I couldn’t bear the thought of you not teaching or being upset because of me. That’s why I came,” you reassure him, hoping your eyes show him the rest. That you do care for him, and want him to be okay.

Steve nods, mulling over your words, wiping his eyes. Then you hear some buzzing on the marble kitchen counter. Steve’s phone goes off, he looks at his phone and answers it immediately. You can hear Robins worried voice on the other end of the phone anxiously babbling questions off at him. You felt good knowing that even if you weren’t in Steves life, he still had Robin.

“No, ugh Rob I’m fine, please you don’t need to come and check on me.”

“Yes, I’ve showered. NO! Don’t bring Nancy, I don’t want her to see me like this.” He rubs his forehead, probably nursing a headache.

Steve hangs up the phone and looks at you.

“Uhm, Rob is coming over, and.. you probably shouldn’t be here when she gets here” he says awkwardly, he looks like he has more to say but decided against it.

You nod your head in understanding. Steve walks you to the front door, thanks you a million more times before waving you off as you get in your car and drive away.

You pull of on the side of the road, a few blocks from Steves place. You put your arms around the steering wheel, thinking about what just happened.

He is just a friend, someone you care about who needed your help.

You shake your head out of your thoughts and head back to your apartment. As you pull into the parking lot your phone dings, you park your car and look at the notification lighting up your phone screen.

“Come over stinky butt 🍑”

You smile at your phone, of course it’s Eddie, the one who makes you feel safe. The one you don’t have to take care of or worry about, your rock. You put your car in reverse, and drive towards Eddies house. The closer you get to Eddies house, the more every loud thought of Steve was quieting to a whisper, you sigh in relief.

“Vi?!” you say cautiously, a routine you were now used to.

Eddie pokes his head out of the kitchen, “Just me babe” a smile plastered across his face. You smile back and head into the kitchen, only to immediately be scooped up into a hug and lifted off your feet. You breathe in Eddies scent, allowing it to ground you back into your reality.

“Mmm missed you,” Eddie murmurs in between kisses. You wrap your arms around his waist, deepening the kiss.

“Missed you too Eds,” Eddie groans against you, pushing you against the counter.

The two of you kiss some more, allowing yourselves to get lost in each other. When you finally pull back you look into Eddies eyes, they just seem tired. You cup your hand around his face, and his cups your hand with his; grateful for the affection.

“Can I show you something?” he asks, only admiration in his eyes. You kiss him as a yes, and let him guide you back down into the basement. You stomach doing flips remembering the last time the two of you spent time down here. But this time he leads you into the main room. The circular table previously covered in random campaign research, now completely clean except for two stacks of paper in front a chair at the head of the table.

He pulls back the chair, next to the head and ushers you into it. You sit down, looking at him inquisitively. He sits down at the head of the table, clearing his voice before he speaks.

“So, the other day, I really liked seeing that side of you. And I wanted to know if you felt the same way, and if maybe you wanted to do it again,” he confesses, searching for the answer in your eyes. His gaze lights a fire in your belly, and a growing ache between your legs, remember the previous activities down here.

You bite your lip and look at him, trying to find the right words, “I’d like that a lot, I like when you take control,” you confide in him, nudging your leg against his under the table. Eddie takes in a deep breath before speaking again, “I just wanted to go over some more safety stuff, if we are going to really do this, and not have it be a one time thing,” handing you one of the stacks of paper in front of him.

He goes onto explain to you that this is not a contract, but more of a mostly complete list of limits that he wanted the two of you to fill out before playing again. He clarifies that the reason for this is so that neither of you ever accidently make the other feel uncomfortable during a scene. Your eyes looking over the papers curiously, overwhelmed by all the different things listed. He had to explain a few of them to you, him being more experienced than you were. You could feel the tension in the room heating up, and your panties dampening.

Finally, you’re on the last page, your knee bouncing up and down in anticipation.

“Where is Violet?” you ask, a little bit too much excitement in your voice. You see his eyes darken and a smirk splay across his lips.

“She’s working night shift” he says grabbing your chair and bringing it closer to his side, grabbing your thigh harshly.

You let out a shaky breath, you needed this, him. You go to put your hand around his neck to pull him into a kiss, but he grabs your wrist.

“Finish what I’ve asked of you pretty girl” leaving a kiss at the shell of your, evoking goosebumps across your skin.

You swallow hard, all the moisture gone from your mouth. You look back down on the paper, finishing it as fast at you can before looking back up at him for more instructions.

“Good job baby, I’m proud of you. You follow instructions so well” he praises, leaving a light kiss on your cheek. He pulls his eyes away from you for a bit, looking through all of your limits or things you are willing to try. You take this time to do the same with him, shocked by a few things, but even more turned on. Once you’re done reading you look up to see him staring at you hungrily.

“Ready to play sweet thing?” he says, pupils blown in lust.

“Ready,” you say breathlessly, willing air into your lungs.

“One more thing before we start, I like Daddy and Master, just so you know,” he winks at you, and it takes everything in you to stop your knees from buckling.

He takes you by your hand and walks with you to the secret door under the stairs. Your body buzzing, wanting to touch the man in front of you anywhere and everywhere. He opens the door and lets the two of you in. Once the door is closed, he envelops you into a deep kiss, you whimper at his lips on yours.

“Mm fuck, I love your little noises” he hisses, lifting you up by your legs and guiding you to wrap them around his waist. He sits down on the bed, leaving you to straddle his waist. The sheets were changed since you were here last, now a silky maroon color. You take the opportunity to grind your hips down on his lap while he grabs at the skin available to him, the two of you moaning into each other’s mouths. His lips tasting like the last cigarette he smoked, chasing his tongue with yours. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, the way his bulge was rubbing against your clit could make you cum right now with how worked up you are. You moan a little louder into Eddies mouth, making him pull back and look at your already fucked out expression.

“Look at you baby, already so desperate” he teases, lifting you off of him for a second to slide your leggings and panties off. He guides you back onto his lap, situating his fingers at your center, swiping them through your folds. Lifting his hands up to find them glistening with your juices.

“And already so fucking wet, such a needy little slut” he says, sticking his fingers into his mouth. You go back to grinding your hips against his bulge, not being able to help yourself, your clit aching with need.

Eddie stills your hips with his hand, grabbing at your ass and tits roughly before taking off your shirt, leaving you naked except your bra. Eddie takes this time to kiss all the skin newly available to him. You moan loudly into the open room, trying your best to obey and not rock your hips against his.

This task became harder and harder the longer his lips were on yours, kissing that spot on your neck that you like, nipping at your lips, kissing your newly exposed nipples. It was all too much, you grind your hips into his without thinking, and that’s when he swiftly turns the turns the two of you over. You can feel the silk sheets against your back, and his hands on your hips. You whine in protest, trying to rock your hips into his once more.

“Awe, my girl just can’t stay still huh? I can help with that,” He taunts, leaving you to lay on the bed, going into the little nightstand on the side of the bed.

He comes back into view holding leather cuffs in his hands, and a sinister look on your face. He takes his time kissing each of your wrists before helping you into the cuffs, doing the same thing with your ankles. You take a look at your wrists, now partially covered by the leather material, it was tight but not too tight. You feel Eddie move around you before grabbing one of your wrists in his hand lightly hearing a clicking sound as he lays it back down on the bed. You go to pick up your wrist again, realizing you can’t. You look at the head of the bed to see your cuff connected to a restraint in the frame. He continues to do the same thing with your other wrist and both of your ankles.

His stare could bore holes into skin the way that it heated you up from the inside. You struggle lightly against the restraints, trying to test how much movement you had in each limb, which wasn’t much. He sits next to you on the bed, palming your face in one of his hands.

“Color baby?” he questions.

“Green!” you say brightly, excited for the adventure ahead of you.

“Doin’ so good for me” he coos, and then his touch is gone and he’s somewhere in the room. You can hear random rustling but you can’t lift up your head enough to see what he’s grabbing.

He comes back next to you seemingly empty handed, and then he lifts up his hands to you to show you his haul. He has a single black die in his one hand, and a vibrating wand in the other.

“So, we’re gonna play a little game, I’m going to roll the dice. Whatever number the dice lands on, is how many times you have to edge until I let you cum.” He says, he usually chocolate brown eyes now almost black with lust.

You lick your lips and think about how to respond, “Y-yes Daddy” you utter, your face heating up at the new pet name. You hear Eddie curse under his breath. He rolls the die next to your head on the nightstand and chuckles. His face coming close to yours with a wicked grin on his face.

“Can you handle three, angel?” he snickers, leaving kisses along your jaw line, nipping lightly. You nod hurriedly, wanting to be good for the man above you. With that he kisses you deeply one more time before spreading your legs, your dripping core on display for him to see.

You watch him spit messily on the wand and then once more on your heat, spreading it generously on your clit. You hiss at the contact, bucking your hips up slightly wanting more. You hear the hum of the vibrator as Eddie turns it on low, your body full of anticipation, waiting for any sort of pleasure. That’s when you feel it, the low vibration against your clit. You squirm against it at first, wanting more already.

Eddie chuckles lowly above you, “I should call you my little bunny by how much you move, would you like that sweetness? To be my little bunny?” he taunts, turning up the vibration higher, pulling a moan from your lips.

“Yes daddy, wanna be your bunny, your good little bunny” you writhe against the restraints. He rewards you by turning up the vibrator another notch, the pressure quickly building in your stomach.

You writhe against the restraints as the pressure becomes too much, coming it waves, so close to sending you over the edge. And then it’s gone, the vibration still audible in the room but you can no longer feel it. You groan in frustration, you were so fucking close.

“Two more baby, then you can cum” he reassures you. He takes this time, to let the fire inside you simmer. He takes off his shirt and his pants, leaving him in only his boxers. You see him palming himself, you bite your lip, wanting nothing more than to worship his cock.

You feel the vibration once again but this time instead of starting out slow, the vibration knocks the wind out of you. Your clit screaming at you for release, the coil inside you already winding tighter and tigher, your curl your toes, willing yourself not to cum. Then the sensation is gone once again, your body now covered in sweat from being so close twice now, your chest heaving heavily up and down.

“You’re doin so good bunny, just one more for me, kay? Still green?” he asks.

You nod your head not trusting your words, whimpers coming out instead. Eddie takes off his boxers, showing off his now very erect and hard cock, making your mouth water. Stroking it a few times before lining it up with your mouth.

“Spit Bunny” he commands.

You whimper and do as you’re told, gathering all the salvia in your mouth and spitting it onto his tip. He sighs and works your spit around his cock, moaning loudly. He’s teasing you, you’re strapped to the bed and can’t even touch him. He is evil incarnate, and you can’t get enough.

You were so entranced by watching Eddie work his hand over his cock you had forgot what the two of you were doing, until you felt the vibration on the highest setting hit your clit.

You yelp in surprise, keeping your eyes on his cock. Thinking about how his cock feels inside of you, how it stretches you out, hits a spot inside of you that you could never reach. You wanted it, no, you needed it, you needed him or you were going to explode. Your orgasm hurtling towards you like a freight train.

“D-Daddy i- please, i- im gonna cum” you gush, holding your eyes tightly closed, willing yourself not to cum before you’re given the okay. But instead, the vibration is gone, and your orgasm ruined.

You wail in frustration, tears welling in your eyes threatening to spill out, legs shaking. You were so desperate you didn’t even know why you were crying. You feel Eddie unclip your restraints, giving you full range of motion again, you rubbed your wrists thankfully. Eddie pulling you into a hug, kissing the tears out of your eyes.

“You did so good for me baby, you’re such a good girl for Daddy,” he mumbles into your skin. You allow him to hold you for a minute before the need between your legs takes over.

You let out the breath you were holding shakily. Looking at him in anticipation. You lie back down on the bed and open your legs, two could play at this game. You swirl your finger around your aching clit, moaning dramatically. Grabbing your left tit, pinching lightly between your two fingers, giving him a show.

Two firm hands grab both of your wrists putting them above your head, “You coulda just asked sweetness, not that I mind the show, I just had something else in mind” he mocks.

He climbs on top of you, lining his cock up at your entrance, swiping it through your soaked folds.

“Beg for it, beg for my cock,” he demands.

“Please, please I need your cock, please please, I’ve been good, please let me have your cock,” you whine.

With that he pushes into your core, both of you moaning in unison. His pace already quick chasing his own high.

“Fuck your pussy is so fuckin tight” he says, eyes closed trying to hold off his own orgasm. He lifts your legs, bending you almost in half, hitting a spot inside that makes you scream.

“Fuck yes, yeah right there, holy fuck!” you wail.

Doing what he’s told he pistons into you harder, making the wet noises in the room get louder and louder. You can feel pressure building inside you, but it feels different, it feels bigger.

“Can I cum, please can I cum?” not being able to hold it off any longer, eyes pleading with Eddie.

“Yeah, baby go ahead, cum for me, cum for daddy,” he groans.

Then your vision whites out, every cell in your body imploding with pleasure, you feel your release spill out of you and onto the sheets, messily.

“Holy shit- fuck!” is the only warning you get before Eddie’s hips stutter, and he spills his seed inside of you.

“What the fuck” is all you can muster in your fucked out state.

“Yeah what the fuck indeed princess, I didn’t know you could squirt” he says breathlessly, scooping you into his arms, the two of you laying next to each other trying to catch your breaths.

“I didn’t either, I’ve never done it before” you confide, Eddies eyes shining bright with pride. You roll your eyes at him, the last thing he needed was a bigger ego.

“Don’t let it go to your head mister,” you say with a jab to his chest.

“No, I absolutely am, thanks though” he says, putting his hand over his chest like he’s accepting a badge of honor.

The two of you spend the rest of the night down there in each other’s arms, eventually, Eddie gives you his t-shirt and goes to grab the two of you a snack and a glass of water.

“Was this okay? I didn’t hurt you or make you upset, right?” he asks.

You shake your head, “No not at all, I loved every second, can’t wait to do it again,” you say with a wiggle of your eyebrows. It makes Eddie crack a smile and leave a small kiss on your head.

“I just like feeling wanted, you know how stuff like this clears your head? It clears mine too, all I need to do is be there for you, and focus on you. Then my brain is quiet, so thank you,” he confesses, stealing a kiss from your lips. You smile up at him, if you could give him the whole world you would in an instant.

“I think I want to tell Vi, I’m nervous but I’m starting to feel guilty hiding all of this from her. I like you a lot, and she deserves to know what makes me happy,” he says looking sleepily in your eyes.

“You make me happy too, we can tell Vi this weekend, okay? I don’t like hiding things from her either,” you reassure him.

He nods back at you sleepily, snuggling in closure to you like a dog. Eventually the two of you fall asleep, completely content.

***Reblogs/comments are appreciated***

Tag List! **if you want to be added to the tag list just lemme know, just need to be 18+**

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[nico-di-genova]

A Lesson in Braking

AKA: Strollonso College AU, this time with a name! Warnings: Smut, at the very end, so if you don't want to read that bit it's literally the very end bit, just skip that altogether.

Chapter 1

The problem with street racing, Lance thinks, is that it is entirely reliant on the people around you being aware of their surroundings. Which, in a state full of retirees who can barely see past their steering wheels, much less their side mirrors, is an impossibility. So Lance shouldn’t be surprised that he’s almost sideswiped when he’s doing 130 in a 65 by a white Honda Civic with a geriatric behind the wheel. He shouldn’t be, and yet when he swerves back over into the far side of the left lane to avoid being flattened, the bike still nearly goes out from under him anyway.

He fights every instinct not to brake and lock up, to lose it and go sliding across the pavement with only his padded jacket and jeans to protect him.

"Jesus Christ!” comes the panicked, staticky voice through his helmet from the Bluetooth connected to his phone, along with the worried yells of everyone else inside the car.

The red Dodge Charger that was chasing Lance seconds before slows in the lane behind him, gives him enough space that if he does fall he won’t be run over like road kill – he can hear the tires of the muscle car screeching on the pavement, the horns from the traffic behind them. Pato, thankfully, is not an eighty year old with failing eyesight. He is, however, the reason that Lance had been swerving through traffic in the first place.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Pato laughs, deliriously.

Lance’s fingers are shaking around the handlebars of the bike, leather-gloved hands so tight around them that he can feel the tension in his body. He tries to breathe out, and an equally insane laugh escapes him.

“Are you okay?”

“Fuck,” Lance sighs, laughs again, thinks his heart might be beating so fast it’s on the verge of failing, “Y-yeah. I think so.”

“What the fuck?” Pato repeats again.

Welcome to Florida, Lance thinks, flashes a shaky thumbs up to Pato behind him just to ensure the man, and his car full of people, know he’s okay – even if he doesn’t quite feel it yet. He didn’t lose the bike, which he figures counts for something.

“That was insane,” Pato continues.

“That was stupid!” Esteban corrects.

Lance eases the bike back up to speed in response, shoots past the Honda Civic that nearly killed him, and flicks the old man hunched behind the wheel off as he goes.

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Fort Myers, Lance quickly learns within his first semester at school, is fucking boring. FGCU, pitched to him as an idyllic campus set along the Gulf Coast, is actually in a swamp. And technically, he’s not even in the city of Fort Myers at all, but Estero – a town no one’s heard of but has somehow managed to house some of the wealthiest people Lance has ever encountered, himself included. He feels he can hardly be blamed for racing his motorcycle through the streets during rush hour traffic just to feel something other than the monotony of flat land and the oppressive heat he’s been stuck in for the majority of the past three years, and getting pulled over in the process. His father, who pays for each ticket with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, does not seem to agree.

Which is exactly why he has no plans of telling the man about his near-death experience. Lawrence didn’t even want him to get the bike in the first place, still threatens to seize it with the steady growing pile of tickets. Lance endures the lectures over the phone with the patience bestowed upon him by being a good son, and then hangs up to do burnouts with Pato in the parking lot of their apartment complex. He’s unbothered by near-death at the hands of the old man, but Esteban, when he climbs out the backseat of Pato’s cramped charger, is not.

“You’re insane,” he says, thwacking Lance on the side of his helmet.

Lance, working the strap through the clasp so he can ease the thing off his head, winces, “Ow.”

“Idiot!”

“I was in my lane!” Lance justifies, even if he was nearing 160 km/h in that lane and was definitely exceeding a safe level of speeding. He hates to lose though, especially to Pato, who would hold it over his head at the next mixer. Lance has endured enough ridicule from his frat brothers for all the races he’s lost, he doesn’t want to add Pato’s fraternity to the mix.

Esteban wouldn’t get it, he’s not in a frat at all.

“You were barely in the lane!”

“Close enough.”

“You shouldn’t have a license,” Esteban grumbles, eyes Lance’s bike like it is a sentient being that willfully chose to do twice the speed limit, and not Lance himself that controlled it. Lance can still smell the burning rubber coming off the tires, feel the heat from the engine. It’s familiar to him in the way the sweaty leather smell from his hands when he slides the gloves off is.

He shrugs, “Neither should half the people in this state.”

“It’s true,” Pato chimes in, coming up behind Lance to pat him on the back. His hand thunks against the padding of Lance’s jacket, sends him rocking forward against the bike. “Glad you’re okay, güero.”

“You two especially though,” Esteban grumbles. Lance just thinks he’s still upset he doesn’t have a car of his own to race, despite the fact that Lance has offered his own on multiple occasions. It hardly gets used, because he hates sitting in traffic, and Esteban would probably be doing him a favor by taking it. But money has been a thing between them since freshman year, since it was established that Lance had a lot of it, and Esteban little, and the dorm room they shared became a space where discussions of finances were forbidden – a sentiment that soon reached through their entire friendship. Esteban still lives in the apartment style dorms on campus, Lance now has a luxury one-bedroom in the newest off-campus unit. His car sits in the parking lot more often than it runs and Esteban walks to class.

“If dumbass here keeps getting tickets he might not have to worry about a license at all,” Pato teases, smirks at Lance as Lance runs a hand through his hair to try to dissuade the helmet hair from setting in and pointedly ignores him. He busies himself with unzipping his jacket, rolling his shoulders and stretching enough to ease the lingering tension from his joints. His shirt rides up with the movement.

Esteban looks away, Pato stares, and the freshman he’s let tag along, David, stands awkwardly beside them because he isn’t sure what else to do. Lance smiles at him, tight, forced, equally as unsure. The kid’s lanky, blonde, curly hair nearly gold in the sunset. One of the new pledges, or someone Pato is trying to recruit, because in their small circle Pato is the only one social enough to actually want the job of recruitment chairman.

“Sorry for almost dying in front of you,” he apologizes to the kid.

David shrugs, “It’s cool. You’re not hot in that thing?” He points at Lance’s jacket with a cast wrapped wrist, the black fabric with grey and white accents.

It’s late August now, summer still working its way into fall. Lance was not raised in the heat, returns to Canada during the break between semesters so he doesn’t have to bear the worst of it, so he is distinctly uncomfortable. His shirt is sticking to his skin with sweat, and he can feel tendrils of it working in steady drops down his spine, soaking into the waistband of his jeans, but he’d rather wear the heavy jacket than have to cart it around for the entire time they’re standing ogling at cars. Or rather, Pato ogling, he and Esteban hanging back to talk about dinner plans. He likes cars in that they can get him from one destination to the next, doesn’t care to talk about them outside of that.

“It’s manageable,” he shrugs, tucks his helmet under one arm and starts walking toward the closed off section of the outlets, where cars are already parked and lined-up.

Pato doesn’t suggest Lance leave the gear in his car, despite it being an easy solution, he knows Lance likes the looks it draws. Lance had drunkenly admitted as much one night, when Pato was straddling his lap and kiss his neck because there were no other options. They had grown accustom with becoming each other’s last resort, hooking up in bedrooms of stranger’s houses or in the back of Pato’s car because the number of girls at parties they frequented far outweighed the available, and interested, men. He smirks at Lance over the top of David’s head as they walk toward the row of cars with popped open hoods – a glint of knowing in his far too mischievous eyes.

They’ll probably hook-up later. Unless Esteban finally feels like kissing him, or the freshman stops being a freshman, both of which are likely to happen when hell freezes over.

“Looks heavy,” David says.

“It is.”

Pato’s smirk widens, “He’s used to it.”

“Go look at your stupid cars, man,” Lance rolls his eyes, shoots Pato a warning look.

It’s the Aston Martin that draws Pato’s attention first. Silver, brown leather interior, the type of car Lance’s dad would own – if he doesn’t already. Lance lost track of the collection long ago, lost interest too, much to his dad’s disappointment. Lawrence wanted him to get into racing professionally, which Lance entertained for all of two seconds before he realized just how far his dad wanted him to go. Then it all felt like too much too fast, and Lance realized he was maybe more content hiding in the Florida swamp land for four years instead. Time he is rapidly running out of.

“You didn’t want to race on a track, but you’ll do it in the street,” he can hear his father’s voice chiding. Lance doesn’t know how to explain there’s more freedom in the street racing, less control, and substantially more danger but a higher reward. No one knows him under the helmet either, not in the way they would if his name was tied to a team and a car and all the responsibility that came with it.

David goes with Pato, both of them studying the engine of the car. The owner, thankfully, isn’t around. Lance doubts they’d like the way Pato goes to duck his head in through the driver’s side door.

Lance shoots Esteban a look, “I feel like you should be more into this,” he says, leans over enough to poke the man in the side with an elbow. Esteban is one of the few people in his friend group who is the same height as him. Which was the first thing they’d bonded over, the second was the fact that they both spoke French. Esteban more fluently, but Lance enough that most their conversations were shared in the language.

“Why?” Esteban asks, eyeing the Aston the same way he had Lance’s bike, like it is likely to reach out and bite him. “Do not say because of the engineering.”

“A little because of the engineering?”

“No.” Esteban is the smartest of them, which Lance has known since he first met him and Esteban introduced himself with a handshake which was quickly followed by, ‘majoring in mechanical engineering.’ His golf management major had sounded silly in comparison, had seemed even sillier once Esteban pulled all-nighters to complete homework for math classes that far exceeded Lance’s skill level while Lance was learning the best techniques for watering grass.

Lance failed a class his freshman year, Esteban passed all of his with what appeared to be ease. Then they both got shitfaced on their last night together and snuck onto the trail that ran from the freshman housing to the upperclassman apartments to share a joint. It had been close to midnight, and every sound that came from the surrounding wilderness had them jumping, but it was maybe the thing that had cemented their friendship.

“You know what you want to do with that yet?” Lance asks, because they’re starting their junior year now. Because the future is becoming something tangible, and so discussing what the fuck they’re supposed to do next seems like the correct thing. Lance still has no idea what he wants to do and thinking of it makes the sweat on the back of his neck run cold, makes the jacket he’s sweltering in seem even hotter.

"Not a clue,” Esteban says, which makes Lance feel a little better, “You?”

“Golf, I guess.” Not much else he can do with his degree, and his business minor had only been something added on at his dad’s request. Lance isn’t passionate about either of those things, isn’t sure he’s passionate about anything. He likes racing, likes his bike, likes spending lazy Saturday mornings on the course, or weekday mornings practicing tennis with his coach, and he’s decently good at all of those things but none of them really seem like a passion.

He is becoming increasingly aware that he is running out of time.

“Professional golfer, Lance Stroll,” Esteban says, draws out Lance’s name to really test the sound of it against PGA pro.

Both of them grimace.           

“Maybe not,” Lance amends.

“Could work, maybe.”

“Probably wouldn’t,” Lance isn’t good enough, not for going pro, and he doesn’t plan on putting in the effort to get there for something he cares so little about. “Maybe I’ll just wait for you to secure your fancy engineering job, marry you and live off your paycheck.”

Esteban shoots him a look that reads ‘fuck no’ clear as day.

----------

The sun sets fully somewhere around eight, Lance starts cooling off at the nine p.m. marker. At some point they lose Pato and David, and then Esteban runs into a group from his major, and then it’s just Lance standing in a sea of American sports cars wondering if he should maybe just go home. He’s feigning interest in a Camaro, lime green with black racing stripes, ugly and gaudy, when someone behind him clears their throat.

“You ride?” the person asks, accented and deep and Lance turns to come face to face with a man who looks right at home amidst the crowd of mid-forties dads showing off their hardly impressive rides. Polo, cargo shorts, and a cap sporting some car brand, Lance thinks he looks a lot like the tourists he’d spotted on his brief visit to Orlando last year. He doesn’t look like the sort of guy who would know anything about motorcycles.

“Uh, yeah.” Lance says, shifts the helmet in his hands so he’s got a tighter grip on it. The guy follows the movement, watches Lance’s hand flex, follows the line of his vein up his arm until he reaches Lance’s eyes again.

“What bike?”

Lance swallows, feels a bit like he’s being interrogated with how the guys brown eyes are staring into his.

“Suzuki 650.”

“Your first?”

“Yeah,” the same one he’s had since his freshman year, stored in storage while he’s gone for the summer and then taken back out when he comes back down. It’s reliable, and Lance has other bikes back home, but he likes this one, likes that it feels like he’s worn it in. “It’s custom,” he adds, defensively, can feel this guy sizing him up.

“Yes?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a moment where Lance thinks that might be the end, the guy will decide there’s no further conversation to be had and then be on his way. He isn’t sure if that would be a bad thing or not, is still trying to maintain eye contact and try not to step back any further against the Camaro behind him.

When the guy offers his hand to shake Lance is afraid to take it, knows his free palm is clammy, doesn’t want to give himself away.    

“I’m Fernando.”

“Lance,” he shakes, hopes the guy will assume it’s the heat, not the nerves setting Lance on edge. This is the most eye contact he’s had to maintain since his plane landed back in Florida two weeks ago. It’s unyielding too, like the guy is trying to win a contest Lance hadn’t realized he’d entered.

“Lance,” Fernando says, testing it, “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too. Do you- do you ride?” Fernando seems to have some understanding, looked decently impressed when Lance mentioned his custom ride. And he wasn’t asking about the cars on display, but instead the bike that Lance wasn’t even near.

Finally he looks away, back to the helmet, back to the way Lance is gripping it with a tightening hold. His mouth, which had before been slanted upward into something close to a smile slips a little. Lance watches the movement, categorizes it the way he does every micro expression, because he’s gotten good at reading people over the years and knows hurt when he sees it.

“I used to.”

“Not anymore?”

“Bad knee,” Fernando explains, motions at his right leg. Lance looks down at where the shorts stop just above the joint, can see the faint white lines of scarring amongst leg hair. Surgical incisions, clean and even.

“Oh.”

Fernando doesn’t look that old, not old enough for knee surgery. There’s lines on his face and grey in his beard, but still plenty of color left alongside it. Dark brown stubble and brown hair curling in the humidity beneath his cap. Lance wouldn’t place him above fifty.

“I’m sorry,” he says, for lack of anything better, and because Fernando keeps glancing at Lance’s helmet with something like envy.

“Is okay,” Fernando says with a shrug, smiles sadly.

And maybe it’s because Lance is feeling lonely, abandoned by his friends, or maybe it’s because something in Fernando’s expression is familiar, he offers, “Do you- do you want to see it? My bike?”

----------

“What happened here?” Fernando asks, pointing at the scuffed paint along the right side of the gas tank, finger tracing the slightly dented spot where matte black has given way to exposed metal.

Lance could have gotten it fixed, but he liked that the bike had character, liked that it was a little imperfect. At least he thought he did, now he just feels like a teenager with their first beat-up car driven off the used car lot.

He laughs, embarrassed, palms at the back of his neck as his cheeks warm, “I, uh, I dumped it freshman year.”

Fernando looks up at him, arches an eyebrow, smiles like he knows the feeling. And then he waits for Lance to continue.

“Yeah, it, uh, it was stupid. Or I was stupid. I was driving around the loop on campus, at school, hit a patch of dirt, it just slid out from under me.” It was his first time falling off the bike, only a week after he had gotten it. And because he’d only been going from the main campus to his dorm he hadn’t bothered to wear gloves, or his jacket, ended up with road burn and an arm ran raw and bloody for his stupidity. He still had some scarring, faint, but there.

"Ouch,” Fernando says, still tracing the damaged spot with an index finger.

Lance watches him, swallows, takes the moment where Fernando isn’t looking at him to study the muscles of his arms straining against the cuff of his polo. And then Fernando shoots him a quick glance and he’s darting to look away like he’s been caught. He maybe has been, if the way Fernando smirks is any indication.

Lance blames Pato, the empty spot in the parking lot where his car was a few hours ago, taking the promise of a blowjob in the backseat with him. And leaving Lance standing in the shadows cast by the street lamps and palm trees dotting the lot, beside a man whose name he knows and little else. When Fernando shifts closer, until his weight is pressing against the side of Lance’s right arm, Lance doesn’t pull away. Instead, he lets Fernando get close enough that the smell of him is almost overwhelming, sharp cologne invading his senses.

“So what’s custom?” Fernando asks, snapping Lance back enough that he can focus on the asphalt beneath him and the bike in front of him, enough that he remembers they’re two doors down from a still open Best Buy.

In his mind he is drafting a strongly worded text to Pato, outwardly, he is pointing at all the pieces of the bike that his father had spent a small fortune on and watching Fernando’s impressed expression grow. Fernando doesn’t pull away, Lance doesn’t make space, and when Fernando mentions the Aston Pato had been ogling earlier in the night is his, Lance follows him to it with blatant interest. He pretends to care about the car, up until Fernando asks him if he wants to go for a ride, and he knows he can drop the act.

----------

They end up on the other side of the outlets, tucked beside a dumpster near the Barnes and Noble and an abandoned Asian restaurant. Lance isn’t picky, doesn’t need to be wined and dined, is perfectly okay with grinding against a guy in the backseat of his Aston Martin and letting his sweat soak into the leather. His jacket and helmet have been dumped in the passenger’s seat, his t-shirt pulled over his head and lost somewhere on the floorboard.

Lance is straddling Fernando’s lap, his head bent against the roof of the car, his neck angled just enough that Fernando can get better access to the junction where his jaw meets his carotid. In terms of hook-ups, it’s not his craziest, though Fernando may be the oldest. He didn’t ask for an age, was content enough with Fernando still having color in his hair. And it didn’t much matter once the man got a hand around his cock.

“Fuck,” he pants, grinding down on Fernando’s growing length beneath him before thrusting back up into the warm grip of his hand. His head thunks against the roof with the movement, causing Fernando to laugh, breathy and warm against his neck.

“Come here,” He instructs, pulls down Lance until he’s resting his head against Fernando’s shoulder and curled over. The position severely limits his ability to grind against Fernando, makes it so that he’s the only one deriving any real pleasure from this scenario.

“Is okay,” Fernando says when he tries to voice that, continues to stroke the length of his cock without pause.

Lance bites his bottom lip to muffle a whine. His jeans are the only thing still on him, and just barely, pulled down and pooled around one ankle. Fernando is still fully clothed, obvious bulge in his shorts. Lance feels exposed, raw, so close that he can feel the orgasm building in his stomach.

“I’m close,” he pants, cries almost. It is better than he and Pato’s backseat escapades, better because Fernando smells likes sharp clean cologne and there’s no exercise equipment digging into his back from being pressed into the seats. Better because Fernando twists his wrist a certain way and Lance can’t stop the cry from escaping him.

“Please,” he begs, leans back enough that he can look at Fernando, only to be pulled back in by the nape of his neck – into a bruising kiss that makes him realize he’s maybe never been really kissed before. Fernando tastes how he smells, sharp. When Lance opens his mouth to pant Fernando’s name, it’s the man’s tongue that silences him, licks behind his teeth and explores him like he’s trying to learn the shape of his mouth. Lance lets him, finds he is eager to do so.

Pato doesn’t kiss him, it’s a rule they have, a fragile divide that maintains their friendship. Lance didn’t realize how much he had been missing.

When Fernando pulls away a trail a spit connects them, until it breaks and lands cool and wet against his chin. Lance doesn’t wipe it away, lets it stay there as his eyes flutter open and he’s staring into steady brown, turned dark in the shadows.

“You’re beautiful,” Fernando praises, lips slick with spit and eyes shining with praise, and Lance cums like that. His spine arching, his body tensing, Fernando coaxing him through it until he goes boneless and slack, cum streaked across his stomach and trailing down Fernando’s hand, his arm, dripping onto the leather seats beneath them.

“’m sorry,” he pants, eyes darting to the pearly mess dotting the brown leather, “Your seat.”

Fernando glances at it, uncaring, quickly looks back at Lance and trails a hand down the front of his chest, tracing along the skin as Lance’s chest heaves with the breath he’s trying to regain.  

“Don’t worry,” he says, smiles, the same smile he’d shot Lance’s way back by his bike, the smile that told Lance this would be where they ended up. He trails a hand back up Lance’s chest, his neck, settles against his jaw and traces a thumb along his cheekbone. Lance leans into the touch, finds he doesn’t mind it, finds he maybe wants it to stay for longer than a backseat hookup should. Fernando indulges him, lets him catch his breath before he suggests moving.

Lance slides off of him, falls back onto the seat, tries to maneuver in the cramped space to slide his boxers and jeans back on. Fernando passes him his shirt, pulled from the depths of the floorboard, rumpled and dirty from their shoes catching on the fabric. There’s still cum on his stomach, drying cool, he glances at it, at Fernando.

He’s about to ask if Fernando has a napkin, an old receipt, anything, but all words quickly leave him when Fernando leans down and licks the mess away. His tongue, warm and wet against Lance’s stomach.

“Oh,” Lance chokes, feels Fernando laugh against him.

“Better?” he asks when he’s done, sits up and eyes Lance like he’s asking for a five star review on an uber ride.

Lance nods, mouth slightly agape, eyes wider than he means for them to be. Like a shocked cow, he can hear Pato teasing in his head, his big brown eyes and dumbfounded expression matching that of the creature. He swallows, tries to regain some composure.

“Do you- do you want me to-“ he motions at Fernando’s cock, the bulge still there.

Fernando shakes his head, “No, you will get me next time, yes?”

Lance chokes again, “Next time?”

“Unless no?”

Back propped against the door, handle digging into his back, legs spread out before him like he’s forgotten how to make them work, Lance shakes his head.

“No! No, I mean, yes. Yes. Yes to next time,” his hands fumble for his phone in his pocket, and then he’s holding it out to Fernando like a demand. Fuck Pato. Fuck his backseat. Fuck shitty blowjobs when they’re both too drunk to swallow properly. He’s beginning to see the appeal of this Aston Martin now.

Fernando laughs again, warm, endeared. It’s slow and drawn out and all the things that Lance isn’t. It’s easy in all the ways Lance isn’t.  

Lance kisses him when Fernando drops him back off at his bike, leaned over the console, and tastes himself on Fernando’s tongue.

“Drive safe,” Fernando says.

Lance does the speed limit the whole way home.

[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Series

sinag | psh.

chapter nine

pairings: park sunghoon x reader

synopsis: waiting for a great plot twist in your life, the ruthless and powerful mafia boss park sunghoon forced his way in to it.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: contains harrassment, violence, guns, killings, abuse, obsessive love & other stuff. if you can't take this stuff, feel free to scroll away. let me know if i missed some.

note: hi guys, please send me feedbacks about the fic. i would really like to hear from you. anyway, enjoy reading! ily, stay safe.

eeunoia 2024 © all rights reserved.

The man laying at the cold concrete floor crawled slowly, trying to escape from his own death. He grunts as he felt his body aches because of all the beatings he just had. His face almost unrecognizable because of the amount of bruises and blood covering all over.

“P-Please,” his plea came out as a mumble as his lips already felt numb. When he saw a pair of shoes in front of him that have blood stains over it, of him he trembles in fear as he slowly raised his head up to look at the person standing proudly while looking down at him.

His hair soaked in mixed blood and sweat and was pushed back a bit messy but that didn't even made him less attractive. The fine man have this placid look plastered over his face, showing no remorse and inch by inch losing his patience. Dark and dangerous, that’s what his full aura gives off making the man lose his shit.

“Do you even hear yourself? A fucking mafia,” he scoffed humorless.

“pleading?” his tone completely sarcastic and full of insult but the man at the cold ground don’t even care about any of that. All he can think of is to make it out here alive. To earn his mercy.

“I’ll d-do anything. Just don’t kill me.” he once again plead.

In all honesty, the man doesn’t even know the point of begging him nonstop to spare him. He knew very well who's this powerful young mafia in front of him. Park Sunghoon. If wrath and ruthless will be a person, he will surely pass to be the main epitome of it.

He’s known for his arrogant personality. He have short patience and can act wrecklessly whenever he feels like to. Just a mere mention of his name, everyone instantly assumed that there is trouble and death.

The amused grin of the person in front of him fell and he’s surprise at how fast the young man changed his expressions. Now, his eyes were dead and blank once again while he eye him.

“I would’ve spared you if you only gave me the information I want from you.” he uttered coldly.

“I already told you, I didn't know that girl! Hell, I didn’t even saw that face of her in my entire life.” his tone slightly raising because of frustration and pressure of having his life in line just because of a girl he had never seen in his whole life.

The man kept his blank face, unconvinced with his words. His men that are standing a few feet away from him shows nothing but ignorance. They stood silence while they watch their boss mercilessly beat him like an animal.

“Do you think I’m lying? I can never forget such face if I already laid eyes on her! She’s beautiful--” his sentence was caught off as a bullet was suddenly fired over his head, causing him to lost his life. Sunghoon didn’t even blink or flinch as the loud bang echoed inside the room.

“You run your mouth too much.” he mumbled and even gave the poor man’s head a kick before he turned around to light himself a cigarette.

He puffed once as his jaw clenched hardly, his men now started to clean the whole place. He was trying to calm himself down when suddenly, his phone rang.

“Yeah?” he greeted then took another puff from his cigar.

“Dude, where the fuck are you? Jake and I are gonna meet tonight.” his friend, Jay, was the person calling.

He shut his eyes and bit his lower lip out of frustration. He can feel his inside trembling in anger and all other negative emotions that he’s trying to suppress inside him taking over his mind.

“Dude?” his friend called out when he didn’t respond.

“I can’t today. I'm out of the country.” he answered. The person from the other line grew silent for a while before he heaved a sigh.

“You’re searching for her again, am I right, Hoon?”

Of course, his friend knew what he’s doing. They’re probably already used to it by now. If ever he went away and went missing in action, it only means he’s searching for this girl. His girl.

He was so ready to hear an earful from his friend once again. Out of all of them, he was the one who disagrees on him searching for this girl like a mad man. If he isn’t his friend, he might’ve planted multiple bullets to his head already.

“She visited my dream again, Jay. I couldn't sleep for days. I n-need to fucking find her or I’ll really lose my mind any time soon.” Sunghoon said then threw the lit up cigarette over the floor before running his hand over his hair.

His friend sighed, “It's been years, Hoon. Don’t you think if she really exist, you should’ve find her by now?”

This isn’t the first time his friend tried to knock up sense into his brain but Sunghoon was very much determine to find you. He’s a man of principles and the type of person who stands up for his own beliefs. He won’t just surrender and he will prove him that he was right. If he may search the whole world, he will.

“I have to go, Jay.” he said coldly, dismissing any more of his friend’s plan to stop him from his crazy decisions. Before he can even complain, he ended the call and just roamed his eyes around.

A room full of dead bodies. A familiar scene for him already. He was told that the man he just killed may had known the girl he was looking for but here he is, disappointed again not to get any information about you. Sunghoon’s eyes grew colder at the feeling of having a blank space in him. He knew that the only person who can fill it was you and nobody else.

“Boss, the car is ready.” Sunghoon’s head look over to his shoulder when Icarus called out his attention.

He shut his eyes for a while before he tilted his head over to the side then slowly walked out the place. His broad shoulder were hanging low as his eyes grew colder as he take steps further outside. Once again, he was disappointed. He doesn't know why he even always raise his expectations at these things when he know clearly that the ratio of finding you was low.

“Where to, boss?” his driver asked.

Sunghoon’s eyes were shut close, trying to calm himself and give his mind some peace even though he knew he’s slowly losing it. He fluttered his eyes open as he looked over the window. The bright city lights are the first who greeted him, they seem fancy but he doesn't care.

“Take me to the nearest bar.” he ordered and his driver just quietly muttered an ‘Right away, boss.’ and followed his order.

On the other hand, you arrived at the country where the seminar will be held. The hotel seems very fancy, clearly the company have budget for this trip. They also booked you a four day trip even though the seminar will be in just one day. Over all, you just planned to enjoy this trip as much as you could.

The plane ride was not so bad, but you couldn’t even take a nap out of all the overthinking you did the whole duration. When you arrived the hotel, they assist you right away and even had staffs aligned to welcome your arrival. It was a little odd and overwhelming, but you just shrugged it off.

Luke wasn’t happy about this trip. When did he ever been happy about your achievements anyway? It didn’t surprise you anymore. At this point, you’re just fed up with his immature behaviors.

Seems like overthinking got you all riled up because despite the night falling deeper, you found yourself unsleepy. After taking a very refreshing shower, you found a card at the center table. It was a pass for this exclusive bar just beside this very hotel. Thinking that having a few drinks may help you to sleep, you decided to go check it out.

It didn’t disappoint you as the ambiance of the whole place is relaxing. Although there are just some weird feeling inside you. Like something’s ain’t right.

“Did you hear anything from Luke?” you bit your lower lip as you wait for your friend to answer your question. One hand holding your phone over at your ears while the other one played over the glass of liqour.

“No... Are you still not okay?” she asked from the other line.

You pursed your lips and let go of the glass before carefully caressing your forehead. You rested both of your elbows at the bar counter and pursed your lips.

“He’s still mad, I guess?” you mumbled and lowered your shoulder then started playing with the glass again.

Your friend scoffed, “Why would he be mad anyway? You went there because of work. It isn't like you went there for a vacation!” Lucie hissed and you know she have a point.

“You're right but I also kind of forgot to tell him before my trip. I happen to remember the day of my flight.” you said. The other line went silent for a while before your friend let out a sigh.

“Well, okay. But at least he needs to understand and be supportive. You’re finally facing your fears!” her tone got excited once more. A small smile appeared over your face.

“Yes. Finally. I just hope everything won’t turn like how it used to be before.”

She sighs, “Stop overthinking, okay? If anything happens, you can call me. I will catch the next flight to you right away!”

That made you feel so much better. Lucie really does care and very sweet. You are very thankful for a friend like her. Someone very reliable and trustworthy.

“Just think of it as a small get away from all the stress.” she tries to comfort you that its okay to be here right now. That everything will be just fine.

“All right. How about you? Are you okay alone there?” you asks a little worried to leave her alone for the first time ever since you two started living togther.

She chuckles, “Of course! I’m not five, okay? Anyway, just think of yourself. Reflect on your life and appreciate that you are finally at the best point of your life.”

“Am I?” you murmured under your breath. It was low so you knew she missed it.

You gulped trying to get rid of the lump over your throat. You are thankful for everything that you have right now. A stable job, good friends, parents (although they’re mostly just there to ask money from you), and a boyfriend. You know you should be contented at it but at some point, you feel like something’s not right... like something’s missing.

“Y/n... stop overthinking and enjoy.” she said, more like a reminder.

At the end, you had no other choice but to oblige to what she said. You are already here and maybe the fear of being in a foreign country again gets into you too much. Its making you overthink everything.

As you continue your chitchat with your friend, your eyes unconsciously darted over to these group of men that just made its entrance to the bar. They were wearing uniforms that were similar, like some bodyguards or something and they have this weird vibe.

You shrugged it off and just diverted your attention back to your glass of liquor. Thankfully, you shut the topic off and decided to talk about something else. You chuckled as you listen to your friend’s funny story, unaware of the pair of eyes who are piercing at you.

Sunghoon was at dazed. He feels like his mind was floating or something while he watch you converse over your phone. He doesn't know if its the desperation, (clearly can’t blame the alcohol since he just arrived) that cause him to start seeing things.

Is he really going out of his mind? Did he lose it? Sunghoon wonders, but his eyes never left your direction. He’s afraid that you’ll disappear, even if it really is his hallucinations, he don’t want to risk it.

“Icarus...” he calls for his assistant. He struts a bit closer, but not too close. He still made sure he kept Sunghoon’s personal space, something he’s really fond of.

“I took my meds today, right? Tell me I’m not seeing things.” his chest heaves up and down, eyes still fixed at you laughing about something that your friend uttered from the other line.

Sunghoon was beyond astonished. His heart races, feet stoned at the position, and slowly all the noise around him are turning into a muffled sound. Like they’re being thrown away somewhere far from where the two of you are.

Icarus' eyes follows his line of sight and he was surprised as well. He gazes over the three other men near him and like him, they looked staggered. He fished his phone and quickly pulls up the painted picture that they’ve been using to search for you. He glanced back and fort multiple times and there’s no doubt that it was you.

“It is her, Boss.” he confirmed that ringed at the back of his mind.

Icarus took a glance over his boss and he quickly started dialling someone through his phone. This is the sole purpose of their nonstop search countries by countries, and yet now that you are there all of them are just stunned. They couldn’t process it properly.

Multiple times that people labelled Sunghoon to be crazy and now, you are here. Proving everyone that they are indeed wrong because you do really exist. Sunghoon’s overwhelmed. He was out of words and just kept staring. Like he was caught in a trance.

He wanted so bad to approach you and steal you out from here. Sunghoon fights all his demons just so he can hold back from holding you right there and then. He’s been waiting for this moment for so long and so he knows he shouldn’t act impulsively.

While Sunghoon enjoys watching you silently after he ordered something to drink, he felt a presence approaches him.

“Sir, we found the hotel where she’s staying at. Beside this establishment.” Icarus announced. Sunghoon nodded his head without sparing him a glance and tilts his head.

“I will go with some of our men to check her room for informations.” he added, informing and asking for permission from Sunghoon.

“All right, you can do that. Hurry up before she decides to go back. I don’t want her to be suspicious of anything.” despite the spark over his eyes, his tone ice cold as he speak to his assistant.

Icarus silently nodded his head, “Noted, boss.” and with that he exits himself taking a few of their men to go with him.

You have no idea that some men are planning to intrude your hotel room. All you care about that night was to loosen up and get rid of these negative thoughts inside your mind.

The corner of Sunghoon’s lips lifts up a little as he watches you made face after a hard shot. It was very adorable for the young mafia boss.

He taps the table once, catching one of the bartender’s attention. He wasn’t a regular, but he sure is known around here. Of course not about good things. There were never goodness in him.

“Give whatever she needs and wants. I’ll pay for it.” his words were firm and cold. The intimidated worker glanced over at your direction and quickly gave Sunghoon a nod, eyes flashes fear.

The night continued and Sunghoon took a few shots. It was incomparable to what you just had. You’re now gulping your eleventh shot and it was obvious that you’re more than drunk. He bet you are now incapable of walking straightly.

Also the sensual gazes from multiple men inside this bar that peers at you didn’t slip from him. He wasn’t too happy about it, fighting the urge of snapping their heads off one by one. Thankfully, the fact that he finally found you kind of made him more calmer. And as long as nobody tries to lay their hands on you, they’ll be good.

He saw you stood up and kind of impressed that you managed to put yourself on your feet. He smirks dangerously and stood up, placing a stack of money at the bar counter. It was way too much as a payment, but he does not care. You seem like you enjoyed your night, the barternders deserves tips for satisfying a customer. Especially if that customer is none other than you.

His smirk fell when he saw you stumble over a man that’s already grinning maliciously. He did not liked it in one bit. The man licks his disgusting lips as he racked his eyes all over your body. Sunghoon snapped at the sight of it and quickly marched near your direction.

You’re basically so drunk that you passed out, unable to even recognize the man holding you.

“Do you need some help pretty girl?” the man whispered meaningfully and was about to grab you by the waist when a hand yanked it hardly making the man scream so loud.

It caught attention, but that’s the least Sunghoon cares about.

“You might be the one that’ll be needing help.” he grunts angrily as his free hand held you over your waist to make sure you aren’t crashing down the floor now that he lets go of you.

The man groans and brows furrowing in a displeased expression. He lifts his head, ready to curse out the man that was doing this to him, but instead the color to his face all drained out.

People inside the bar stayed at their places, doesn’t really want to get involve once caught glance at the Park Sunghoon. All they can do is to stare, because they knew if they try to get involve, its going to be hell for them too.

“M-Mr. Park, I w-was just—” the man yet again shrieked eerily, his eyes grew when the man pulled his wrist and broke it with no remorse.

He fell down on the ground crying out of pain. He called out for help nonstop, but nobody even tried to call an ambulance. They were just there, watching the awful scene.

Sunghoon held your waist and checks on your passed out state. With his furrowed brows he scanned you carefully, making sure no injury was inflicted. After making sure you’re all right, he carries you effortlessly by his arms and heads outside the bar.

“Let’s call it a night now, princess.” he mumbles softly.

“Sir, what are we going to do about the man in the bar?” one of his man stalks behind him.

Sunghoon’s eyes turned murderous once it left you. “Get rid of him.” he coldly said before walking inside the lobby of the luxurious hotel you’re currently staying on.

The moment he stepped foot, he saw Icarus talking carefully with the staff of the hotel. He was sure he’s discussing with them what to do and not to do. He have no idea who owns this place, but he will surely make sure none of the things they did will be come known and that you will be enjoying your stay.

His eyes looked panic when he saw Sunghoon carrying you by his arms, unconscious. He excused himself from the girl at the front desk and slowly approaches him. The staffs that gets to see the view looked bothered, but what can they do about it? It’s Park Sunghoon. It’s either they kept their mouth shut or he will shut their mouth forever.

“W-What happened...?” he was hesitant as he ask that question to Sunghoon.

The original plan if ever they manage to find you is to observe and never engage too near. But why does he carrying you like this and passed out? Did his boss lose control and forcedly took you here?

“She passed out from drinking.” he explained shortly that somehow ease his worry.

He told Sunghoon the number of your room and he went there by himself. Icarus left to go and check on the mess Sunghoon just made by the bar.

The mirror of the elevator reflects the two of you. It was a sight Sunghoon never expected to see this soon. Numerous times he imagined holding you like this by his arms and now that you’re here, it feel sureal.

He strides the hotel hallway, his long legs makes it a short travel from the elevator to your room. The whole floor is now vacant as he ordered Icarus to rent all the rooms so they can ensure your safety and that you can rest properly.

After he opened your room, he walked over the bed and placed you carefully. He smashed his lips together as he inhaled your scent, making his head all fuzzy. You smell so good and its making him crazy. He leans away and stared at your sleeping figure.

He still couldn’t believe it. Thinking that he’s in a dream. And if ever he is, he don’t want to wake up anymore. He wants to stay in this dream, with you.

He extends his hand and slowly tried to brush some strands of hair that was on your face. He jolts when you suddenly moved, the tip of his finger grazed on your soft skin. He heaves a sigh, feeling his heart thumped like crazy.

He stares at his big hand for a while before he smirks a little. His eyes trailed back at your sleeping state and he noticed the clothes you are wearing. It doesn’t look uncomfortable, but you won’t be able to rest properly.

He fished his phone from his pocket while still watching you sleep, not allowing to take his sight out of you. Like afraid that you’ll suddenly vanish.

“Boss?”

“Ask for room service for her room. I want them all girls and also someone who can dress her into a more comfy clothes.” he ordered that his assistant quick assists.

He sighs. He doesn’t want to leave yet, but he knew he has to. Slowly, he sat down at the side of the bed and stared at you peacefully sleeping.

He reaches for your hand and with a racing heart he held your hand. Lifts it and placed a soft kiss on top of it while his eyes darted directly at you.

“Sleep well, my pretty. I’ll have you for myself soon.”

main master-list

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[sillygoose067]

Over the 7 Seas

Ch. 36

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Warnings: SMUT-- oral(fem. receiving), fingering, nipple sucking, brief praise kink, mostly soft smut, lots of kissing, let me know if I missed anything.

Author’s Note: This is my first time writing smut. Was kinda skeptical while writing it so, yeah. Lmk if I should continue the scene in the next chapter or cut it off here.

Moving in with Charles was definitely an adjustment. You’d never believed all the sayings about living with men, but you understood now. Although, you knew that they came as a package deal, you were quickly learning a lot of new things about your boyfriend. He was relatively neat most of the time. He spent time streaming games with his friends. He liked to play the piano in his free time, or when there was a lot on his mind. He liked trying new recipes, even if he was a potential hazard in the kitchen (you made sure to keep an eye on him while he was in there). He liked to spend his time reading, cozied up in the loveseat, rather than on electronic devices. He loved to keep music playing around the house. 

Somehow, all of these little quirks made you fall in love with him a little more, no matter how frustrating he could be sometimes. 

Unbeknownst to you, Charles also noticed little things while accommodating you.

…

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you ogling me?”, Charles asked, his back to you as he grabbed his clothes from the drawers, only in a towel. 

“Yes”

This makes him turn towards you. He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you’d be such a pervert, Cheri.”

“Yeah, well, I’m only a pervert for you.”

The other eyebrow goes up now, and his arms are crossed across his chest, a look of mild surprise on him. “I wasn’t aware you had such a dirty mouth– Or mind, for that matter– either.”

You shrug, a smirk playing on your lips. Within seconds, he’s in front of you, pulling your lips to his. Instinctually, your arms wrap around his shoulders, tugging him closer by the nape. 

You pull away, noses brushing, keeping your lips a hair’s breadth away from his, pulling back each time he tries to capture the soft tissue– teasing him. You bite your lip. 

“Charles?”, you whisper. It felt wrong to speak out loud in intimate moments like these. 

“What, Y/n?”. A frustrated puff of air against your lips. 

You chew your lip some more, hesitating. Charles pulls your lip from under your teeth, soothing the swollen skin with his thumb. He can’t stand it when you do that– it makes something wild in him come alive. 

“I think I’m ready. To go… all the way.”

You feel his breath stutter, and his grip on your hips tightens. Your eyes meet, and you can tell he’s searching for assurance. 

“Y/n baby, are you sure? You don’t need to rush. If you’re worried about my needs, don’t– I can take care of myself, I just want you to feel safe and certain–”

You cup his cheek and bring your lips together, shutting him up. “I want this Charles.”

When your lips meet again, you can tell that something’s changed in him. Your boyfriend moves the two of you more comfortably on the bed, only breaking momentum to tear off your tank top and shorts. You’re panting, hair spread around you like a halo. Charles crushes himself onto you, trying to deepen the kiss, and then you feel it. A thick, solid form pressing into your hip, and you gasp. “Is that…?”

Charles kisses the corner of your lip. “Yes. Is that alright?”

You whimper in response. Involuntarily pushing your breasts into him, arching to feel more of him against you. He kisses your face– nose, cheeks, forehead. “Can I make love to you, angel?”, he whispers against your temple. 

“Please”, you whine, chasing after his lips. 

He pulls away with a chuckle. Oh how the tables have turned, you think. “I need to hear you say it Y/n”, he says, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb. 

“Yes, Charles, please. Want you”, you breathe against his lips. 

Without wasting a second, Charles’ arm reaches behind you and unclasps your bra. With one hand. You feel yourself beginning to soak your panties. Your breasts bounce free, and Charles pulls away, sitting up, his eyes wandering over you. You feel a blush creeping up at his scrutiny and move to cover yourself up, but your boyfriend is faster. 

“Never hide yourself from me, Cheri. You’re so beautiful”, he says as he moves your arms away, only to replace them with his hands, cupping your breasts. His touch is so warm, that you push the malleable mounds further into his grip, reveling in the featherlight brushes against your nipples. 

Charles kisses his way down to your chest, leaving a trail of lovebites. He brushes his thumb against a nipple, watching how it swells under his touch, and then flicks his tongue against the nub, leaving it glistening with spit. You shiver as the saliva cools against your skin– and then is enveloped in warmth. You let out a moan as you feel his mouth close around your breast, tongue playing with your nipple, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin. He treats the other nipple the same way once he deems that he’s spent enough time on one side. 

Pressing butterfly kisses up to your collar and nipping here and there, finally connecting lips with you, chuckling against them when you whine for him to hurry. “Let me worship you, my love.” you clench around nothing at the feel of the rumbling of his chest, the vibrations making your nipples tingle as they rub against his pecs. 

He makes his way down once again, down your sternum, down your stomach, all the way to the waistband of your panties. Fingers curling under the fabric, bunching it at your hips, he keeps his eyes on yours as he leaves a smattering of kisses right above your mound, slowly pulling the cloth down. He taps your hip to lift, and you do so nervously. Before removing your panties completely, he stops and checks with you again. “Are you sure you want to go through with this baby?”

With your lip caught between your teeth (a nervous habit), you take a breath and nod, attempting to stabilize your racing heart. Charles pulls the offending scrap off of you, tossing it somewhere to the corners of the bedroom, and you close your legs by instinct. He grabs your thighs and pulls them apart gently, his eyes never leaving yours, not until he’s settled comfortably between your thighs, arms wrapped around your hips, keeping your legs open. 

The scent of your arousal fills his senses and his eyes flutter shut as he brings his nose closer to the source, inhaling deeply, resting his cheek on your inner thigh. You bite back a whimper. His thumb rubs the spot a little above your clit, in a soothing motion. 

“I want your eyes on me, baby. I want you to watch how I worship you.”

This time you don't even try to hold back the whimper, gushing some more. 

It starts with a broad stripe up your folds, the sudden heat making you flinch and try to close your thighs, making him grip you tighter and move your feet to rest on his shoulders. Then, Charles uses his thumbs to separate the saturated folds, opening you up like a flower, holding the lips open as he licks once again, this time taking his time and tasting your nectar from the source, and ending his ascent up with a suck on your throbbing pearl. Your breath catches and your fingers curl into the bedsheets next to your hips. And then, your boyfriend commences the feast, eating you, drinking you up as if he’d been dehydrated for days. Your hips thrash against him, unable to decide if you wanted more or to get away from the assault on your pussy, back arching off the bed and deeper into his mouth, hands coming up to grip your pillow, teeth biting down uselessly on a finger, trying to keep sounds from escaping. Charles’ eyes never leave yours, watching what he does to you– that is until he runs his tongue over your clit and makes your eyes roll back. 

He pulls your hand away from your mouth. “I want to hear your sounds”, he says, and you’re not even sure if you can get wetter. Now uninhibited, you whimper and moan with every caress of his mouth. You gasp when you feel the tip of his tongue wriggle into your entrance. “Hands– Want to… want to hold your hand”, you whine as you reach down and make a grabby hand, and Charles intertwines his fingers with yours, smiling at your adorableness and pressing a kiss to the junction where your thigh met your labia. And then he goes back to business, smirking against you when he feels you squeeze his hand at his ministrations. 

Once he feels like he’s stretched you enough with his tongue, he pulls off. “Baby, I need to loosen you up to take me. I’m gonna add some fingers now ok? I need you to tell me if I hurt you.”

“Okay”, you pant. 

You feel one finger ease into you, and you flutter around the digit, trying to adjust to the foreign feeling. 

“Fuck. Are you alright?”

“Just a little uncomfortable. But… you can move.”

He pushes the finger deeper and then slowly works you open, feeling around your walls, trying to find your G-spot. Once you become accustomed to the feeling and feel the effects of the pleasure, you tell him to add another. With two fingers pumping into you now, Charles takes the chance to latch onto your clit again, and you let out a surprised shriek, which turns into a moan, the sensations building something deep in your gut. “Hnnng, baby– something’s– I can’t.” You’re no longer able to form coherent sentences. Charles increases his pace, feeling you get close, and your toes form points, the tips digging into his shoulder blades as your thighs, no longer held down, close around his head.

He pushes you over the edge and you cum, silently trembling, unable to make a sound, shocks traveling through your body as your boyfriend helps you through it. Your knuckles are white with how hard you’re gripping Charles’s hand, back bowing off the bed and head pressed as far back as possible, another hand gripping the pillowcase, eyes rolled back and fluttering as you shake.

Charles cleans up your juices, pressing a gentle kiss to your now sensitive clit, then making his way up to kiss your sweaty forehead. “Good girl”, he whispers as he licks his fingers clean. “You taste like a dream.”

Once you catch your breath, you smile shyly. “Thank you. I think I like your fingers now.”

Realization flashes through Charles’ face as he remembers your words to him in LA. He grins and tickles you, sending giggles throughout the room. 

When he stops, you pull him down closer to you. “Can we fuck now?”

“No”

Your expression falls. 

“We can’t fuck now, but I can make love to you.”

A sigh of relief. “Aren’t they the same thing?”

A huff of air against your collarbone. “Oh love, you’ll know the difference when I fuck you.”

[bloodylullaby]

Dont know if you take blurb requests but I wanted to ask for one (no pressure❤)

What about, something like the reader and Noah being together for a couple months and she thinks that he's gonna leave her for whatever reason but Noah 'reassures' her so she can keep calm.

Idk if you like this but do what you please with it❤

Okay, I got overly excited and a little nervous writing this, but I hope this is what you were semi-looking for. If not, I will do it again without hesitation! :) :)

I may or may not have read other blurbs to make sure I was doing this right.

Song

Masterlist

Three glorious months—seemingly a blink in the vast of time, yet profoundly meaningful in the journey you and Noah have navigated. It marks the peak of three years of friendship, a journey paved with shared laughter, countless conversations, and moments of unspoken understanding. Finally reaching the finish line, you both have embarked on a new chapter, intertwining your lives in a bond strengthened by trust, mutual admiration, and a deep-rooted connection. Every day shows the lasting beauty of your relationship and the profound impact of love, which thrives and grows with each passing moment.

Things seemed like they couldn't get more perfect until your first big fight. You posted a picture of you and Noah cuddling up in his bed, and he freaked out a little. He was one for complete privacy regarding the internet, but you wanted to shout your relationship to the world. It was hard for you to understand why he didn’t want pictures of you two posted, and it was even more challenging for you not to take it as personally as you did. You have been holed up in your room blasting "Lover Dearest '' by Marianas Trench for an intense hour, screaming and crying the lyrics to yourself.

You felt like he was going to break up with you sometime in the near future, and it was getting harder and harder for you not to freak out about it. This caused you to slightly distance yourself from him, which wasn’t hard due to him working in the studio a lot lately. Everything seemed reduced to slower texts, fewer calls, and limited visits for several weeks. You knew it was because once Noah had a creative flow, he couldn’t be slowed down, but emotionally, it felt like he was avoiding you because he didn't want you around anymore.

There was a knock on your door, so you slowly got up to answer it. On the other side was Noah, who had a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a big smile on his face. His expression slightly faltered when he saw your tear-streaked face. Confusion crossed his features when he heard the song you were playing. 

“Why are you listening to your break-up song?” He asked. That just pushed you over the edge and made your tears fall again. He grabbed your face with his free hand, wiping away the tears. “Hey…shhhh, it’s okay, baby. What’s going on?” he asked, concern laced in his voice.

“Are you going to break up with me?” You asked through sniffles and hiccups. Avoiding eye contact, you couldn't bear to see his face, knowing it would only deepen your heartbreak.

Seeing the anguish in your eyes, Noah's expression softened with understanding. After setting down the flowers, he gently cupped your face with both hands, coaxing you to look at him. 

"Hey, no, no, baby, I'm not going to break up with you," he reassured you, his voice filled with sincerity. "I love you, okay? I'm here for you."

Feeling relieved, you finally meet his gaze, tears still glistening. With a shaky breath, you leaned into his embrace, comforting yourself with his reassuring presence. Noah held you close, his arms wrapping around you protectively as you let yourself release the pent-up emotions weighing on you. Looking up at him, you both get swept up in the feelings, and he kisses you. At first, it starts slow and gentle, a way for him to show you that he understands your feelings and will be there to take the pain away. Then it starts to turn hungry, showing you his passion for you and that he isn’t going anywhere.

Leading him to your room, you lay on your bed as he climbs over you. The air is thick with anticipation and desire as he leans in to kiss you, his lips tender and warm against yours. As the kiss deepens, you feel a surge of emotion wash over you, the intensity of your connection palpable in every touch.

For the next hour, Noah worships you and every inch of your body, his lips and hands moving with purpose and passion. Each caress declares his love and commitment, reassuring you that he isn't going anywhere. In his embrace, you feel safe and cherished, the worries and doubts of earlier fading into the background as you lose yourself in the moment. Time seems to stand still as you revel in the intimacy and closeness you share, knowing that together, you can weather any storm that comes your way.

[julesthequirky]

The Choice: Chapter Thirteen

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters: Fem!Reader, Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy/Ben.

Warnings: Female masturbation, female fantasy, language, typical Soldier Boy behaviour, cheesy euphemisms.

W/C: 1,596

A/N: I can only apologise for how long it took me to get this chapter out. I don't really have any excuses, except for the fact that I had a bit of a break, wrote some other ideas knocking around, and then had another break. I wish I could keep a schedule, but they don't work for me. I struggled with this chapter, struggled to push the story forward to get to where it needed to be.

A/N 2: I can't believe it's only day three! As a writer, I, too, forget the concept of time within the story. And it's not until I read past chapters that I realised how slowly time goes by.

The hot water splashed down, and you leaned your head back, getting a face full of the spray.

Was Ben right? Was Dean jealous? Or perhaps he had just been mad. He slept in the next room. A wall was shared, after all. He had to have heard everything. But Dean had no reason to be jealous. He hadn’t shown any inkling that he wanted anything more than platonicness.

Ben knew how you felt about Dean. About Beau. He’d seen all your interactions with the hunter and nearly bitten your head off in Walmart when he found them ‘impersonating’ him. Ben was an enigma. One moment he was flirty and casual, bantering with you, and the next, he was aggressive and damn near violent, threatening anyone that gets on the wrong side of him. And it was him you had fooled around with first. Not Dean. Not that you initially intended to mess around with any of them.

Water ran down your body in rivulets, and your hands followed the flow. Again, Dean, in complete ecstasy, slipped into your mind. Would he grip the shaft tightly? Would he squeeze to feel the intensity of pleasure? Would he stroke his thumb across the slit, rubbing pre-cum across the mushroomy head of his cock?

Below, you throbbed, and again, your mind turned to comparisons. Would Dean be as wide? Would the head of his cock feel so pillowy against your entrance? Would it pulse as strongly? Would he feel as heavy and as thick as Ben?

You shuddered, arousal burning through your body as you tried to wipe those thoughts from your mind. It didn’t feel fair. Dean was his own person. But…Jensen…Jensen was the man who played them all.

Your hand reached for the shower head. It unhooked from the wall attachment, and you changed the head settings. The water sprayed out powerfully in a more concentrated manner.

You gripped the shower head and the shower bar with your other hand. And before you could think yourself out of it, you turned the shower head upside down.

You gasped. A sharp inhale of air. Your hand tightened, gripping the shower bar. The jet of water shooting up from the shower head pelted your clit with intensity.

You bowed your head, hair dripping into the shower floor, pulse spiking as Dean masturbating occupied your mind.

You changed the angle of the shower head, and your knees almost buckled. Your toes curled, and you shook as you fought to contain yourself.

Your pussy clenched.

Your eyes squeezed shut. Dean, touching himself, left your mind, and Ben replaced him. You shook your head, trying to get Dean back. But Ben stayed. And he stood in all his glory, shameless, hand wrapped around his cock and giving lazy strokes, wearing that damn smirk.

Then, his words from yesterday came to mind.

“Would you suck me off as prettily as you suck my fingers?”

And in your mind’s eye, you were on your knees, pleasing Ben, wrapping your lips around his cock. You saw yourself sucking, could feel the weight of him on your tongue, could taste the saltiness of him.

In your mind, you watched as the rapture completely took over Ben. His head leant back, eyes closed, and his fingers fisting your hair. He cursed under his breath as you slowly dragged the man’s soul from him.

Would Dean react the same way? Or would he watch?

Heat swamped your gut at the thought of Dean watching you suck him off. Your body shook, edging closer to that inevitable brink.

You’d please him. Who? All of them.

Ben.

Dean.

Beau.

Beau. With his cheeks tinted pink, and looking at you hungrily sent you hurtling over the edge and crying out, your legs almost buckling from the strength of your orgasm.

The shower head clattered to the floor, continuing to spray upwards. You leant against the steamed-up shower wall.

You hadn’t done that in a while. Not with a showerhead.

*

The TV played in the background. Some football game Ben had put on that Beau was absorbed in. With three men living with you, sports were perpetually on.

After breakfast, Dean excused himself and headed upstairs with a coffee, claiming he needed to decipher the language on the frame’s box, reinforcing the idea that maybe he was mad at you. He’d asked to use your laptop to aid him in his research, and you were compliant, handing him the device and the cable. You had written the password on his hand, desperately trying to ignore the sparks rushing up your arm.

Trying to read with Ben glancing at you occasionally was nigh-on impossible. All you wanted was to relax with a steamy romance between a Rugby player and a sassy fan. At least this one wouldn’t come to life.

Ben nudged you from where he was sitting beside you. You glared at him as he rudely pulled you out of the world where fans have hot instances with insanely built Rugby men.

“What?”

He leaned his head closer.

“If you needed help installing a pipe in your bathroom, you could have come to me.”

What the shit?

You tilted your head in confusion. What the Hell was he going on about?

“You know….”

He kept his voice low so as not to capture Beau’s attention. This was something he wanted to keep between you both.

“I’m just saying you could have come to me.”

You shook your head.

I shake my head and try to get back into my book.

“You need installations in your bathroom? Y’know I’m a dab hand at DIY.” Beau asked, finally turning away from the TV.

“What, no.”

Ben snorted and shook his head.

“Ya hear that, Y/N? Beau is a dab hand at installing pipes in a bathroom.”

Ben’s tone was a little sarcastic for your liking. And whatever he was alluding to, you just weren’t getting. Ben wasn’t one to mince his words, so why was he being so elusive? It didn’t make sense.

You sighed, closing the book you’d barely read anything of.  You placed it down and stood up.

“Ben, could I see you in the kitchen, please?”

You saw Beau’s quirk of his eyebrows in your peripheral vision as you started walking out of the living room.

 Ben followed you into the kitchen. He closed the door behind him, a smirk on his face. You stood there, leaning on one hip, arms folded against your chest.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but it’s gotta stop.”

Ben’s smirk grew wider as he stepped closer.

“Aw, c’mon. I’m only messing. Besides, maybe next time you have a solo flick fest in the bathroom, you should remember that some ears are far more acute than others.”

You stood stock still. Shit. He’d heard everything. That’s why he was teasing the Hell outta you.

“So, c’mon, what prompted this solo session?”

Your cheeks burned. Could you tell him? Probably should. He was only gonna bug you otherwise.

“It was what you said about Dean…”

He grinned wickedly.

“Doll, if a man beating his meat has you wetter than the Pacific Ocean, then baby, I don’t mind doing a little corn shucking just for you.”

You blushed. You actually blushed. Maybe it was the cheesy euphemisms, but Hell, they made you redder than a tomato.

“You gunna listen to him?”

You scratched the back of your neck, unsure. Honestly, you didn’t know what you were gonna do. The thing was, Dean wasn’t the only one concerned. Beau was, too. That meant that Beau thought the same as Dean. Or similar. Beau had mentioned intentions, and it was such a dad thing to say.

“Because, if you did, it’d be real shitty of you.”

Fuck. This was all you needed. Ben would hold a grudge. You knew that. But Dean. Dean had your heart. It was stupid. And yeah, you wanted to make him happy. But the real question was: what would make you happy? And that you didn’t know.

Sighing and easing yourself in a seat, you rested your head in your hands. Your phone buzzed. You slipped the gadget from your pocket. Your brow furrowed upon seeing a message. It was from your mother. Wondering what she wanted, you clicked it open.

Mom: Dear Y/N, Mark mentioned to your father and me that he saw you in Walmart with a man. He thinks it's your boyfriend. Is he? Why haven’t you said anything to me? I’m your mother. Your father and I insist on your presence at dinner tonight, 7:30 PM. Don’t be late. Dinner will be at 8. Your father said texting you was more likely to get your attention. He also said to bring your man. Sincerely, Mom.

Fuuuuuuuuck. You didn’t need this right now. You groaned, letting the phone clatter to the table.

Fucking Hell.

“She can fuck off.” You muttered.

Ben snorted, taking a seat beside you.

“Problem?”

Yeah. At this moment in time, you had too many problems. You were not bringing Ben around your mother and her partner. However, it made you smile at the thought of her clutching her pearls when Ben cussed like a sailor as he spoke with his mouth full. Then it faltered. Ben, behaving as he does, would double down her efforts to get you with Cole. No. It would be best to pick someone else. But who? And would Ben understand? Probably not.

You faced him.

“Yeah. My mother’s invited me to dinner and wants to bring my so-called boyfriend.”

Tags: @yvonneeeee, @curlycarley, @angelbabyyy99, @sassy-pelican, @k-slla, @deans-spinster-witch, @ashdoctor, @eretsupremacy89, @fanfic-n-tabulous, @deans-number-one-fan, @afro-hispwriter, @tiredstrangerr, @zemosdarling228, @justjensenandhisalteregos, @ladysparkles78, @nescavaneck, @winharry, @stellasfictionalworld, @mishkatelwarriorgoddess, @freefallthoughts, @realityshifter111, @slvtforhotchner, @hobby27, @grxyveins, @emily-roberts, @jamerlynn, @mimaria420, @kr804573, @just-levyy, @leigh70, @eexphoria

If for some reason you aren't tagged, or I've missed you as I went through to update my tags, lemme know. And A, we'll grumble about Tumblr together, or B, I'll chide myself and update the tagsheet.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (7)

Cold Fire

Having been worse than ignored by Daemon at the funeral, Arianwyn finally comes face to face with her father.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: none

Author's Note: daddy's home...

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

The first time Arianwyn called someone ‘papa,’ it was not Prince Daemon Targaryen.

King Viserys had come to the nursery to see her dragon. He’d made a habit of doing so about once per week. Arianwyn and Aemond loved when he came, for they would get to sit on his big, soft lap and listen to him tell stories.

Aemond fell asleep halfway through the first story. It was about a beautiful Valyrian princess who lived her life confined in a tower, who only escaped when a handsome Valyrian prince fell in love with her without even seeing her and rescued her on his great dragon. That story was a particular favorite of hers.

She snuggled closer to the king, holding her dragon – who was also asleep – in her arms. “Read another one, papa?”

The king frowned, his face crinkling. “Oh, little Aria, I’m not your papa.”

How could that be? Aegon and Aemond called him ‘father,’ and Helaena called him ‘papa.’ Why was it different for her? “Why not?”

“Because someone else is your father,” the king said. “Your father is my brother – he is your papa. I am your uncle, your kepa.”

She considered for a moment. Aunt was her aunt, not her mother, and Aunt was married to the king. She supposed it made sense. “Where is my papa?”

“He is…” the king, Uncle, looked away from her, out the window to the sea. “He is far away.”

“When is he coming back?”

“I don’t know, my sweet.” He looked sad. Very sad.

Arianwyn did not want him to be sad. If he was sad, he wouldn’t read to her more. “Which story is your favorite, Uncle Kepa?”

He laughed, but she didn’t know why. But he began reading again, so it was fine.

That evening, once Aegon and Helaena had returned from wherever they went during the day, Arianwyn explained what she had learned to Helaena and Aemond. But Aegon laughed at her when she mentioned her father and how she couldn’t wait for him to come back.

“Why would he come back?” he asked.

It seemed like a silly question to her. “To see me.”

Aegon shook his head. “He doesn’t want to or need to. He has a new family across the sea – two new daughters. Besides, he’s had more than ten years to see you. If he wanted to, he would have done it already.”

Aemond started to yell at him and threw a stuffed velvet rabbit at him. But Arianwyn said nothing.

What Aegon said felt like the truth. She could feel it in her chest like the weight of half a dozen books. Her father stayed across the sea because she did not want to see her – he did not want to be her father.

She never called anyone ‘papa’ again.

The main dining room at High Tide was as lavish as the rest of the castle. A great table, some twenty feet long, ran through the center of the room. From the uneven grain and sun-bleached color of the wood itself, it was clear to all who laid eyes on it that it had been constructed of driftwood – Lord Corlys was many things, but subtle he was not. The twenty-two chairs set around the table were made of the same wood, backboards reaching up in points shaped by the sea.

Prince Daemon Targaryen sat on one of these chairs – at the head of the table – slouching with disinterest as he picked at the wood of the armrest with his fingernails. He did not look up when the queen entered the room, his daughter trailing sheepishly behind her.

Arianwyn thought her heart would burst out of her chest for how fast it beat. She could no more decipher her own churning feelings than the expression on her father’s face. She curtsied, just as her Septa had instructed. But she said nothing.

Neither did Daemon.

After long moments of silence, the queen spoke. “My Prince, may I introduce the Lady Arianwyn.” She fixed him with her most withering glare. “Your daughter.”

“Yes, I can see that,” the Prince drawled, at last looking at the girl. He scanned his violet eyes over her like she were livestock to be appraised. “She has her mother’s piggy little nose.”

Arianwyn clenched her fist to prevent her hand from flying to her face, resisting the instinct to cover the apparently offensive feature. A fire ignited in her heart, setting her blood boiling.

The queen herself had to bite her tongue to hold back a curt reply. Instead, she smoothed the front of her dress and spoke again. “I am pleased to say that she is a fine, accomplished young lady. She has excelled in her studies, and the Dragonkeepers report she is equally talented as a dragonrider.”

Daemon grinned as if he had been told a foul joke. “I’d heard the egg hatched. Let me guess, a bronze she-dragon?”

Forcing out a shaking breath, Arianwyn shook her head.

Her father pursed his lips, “Pity. You could have called it after your mother. Few enemies would stand a chance against the Bronze Bitch.”

“How dare you?” Arianwyn spat, her oath of silence and indifference entirely abandoned. “How dare you insult my mother?”

Alicent placed a hand on her niece’s elbow to calm the girl’s rage. But Arianwyn ripped her arm away, stalking around the massive table to advance on her father. “You’ve never cared about me for a single moment of my entire life. And now, after ten years, you finally ask to see me only so you can insult me and continue to defame the woman you tortured in life?” She reached the end of the table, fire blazing in her grey eyes as she stared down at Daemon. “What kind of cowardly monster are you?”

Sighing, Daemon pulled himself from his chair. He was so much taller than her, even when he leaned to brace his hands on either side of the driftwood table. “I did not ask to see you.”

Something cracked in Arianwyn’s chest at those words, as the last shred of a primal, desperate hope for reconciliation with her father – a hope she did not know she still held – died. Tears finally spilled from her eyes, and she whirled around toward Alicent.

The queen’s heart broke when she saw the utter devastation on the girl’s face – knowing she had been its architect. “I am so sorry, Aria,” she breathed. “I thought… A child should know her father.”

Before either woman could say anything more, Daemon strolled casually around the opposite end of the table, a self-satisfied smile across his lips. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies, but there are people in this castle I should like to meet.”

Neither Alicent nor Arianwyn moved a muscle until the door had thudded shut behind him. Then and only then did Arianwyn fall to her knees, letting out a cry that would shatter the frozen heart of an ice dragon.

Arianwyn cried for hours, despite Alicent and Brynna’s attempts to soothe her. But there was no calming her fury. It continued to grow, burning brighter and hotter than even the black fire of Balerion, a ferocity that could only come from a shattered Targaryen heart.

She had told herself that she did not care what Daemon thought of her, that she had lived her life happily enough without him, and even that she hated him after what he had done to Rhea. Yet, true as those feelings were, there remained a piece of her soul that yearned for the love and approval of her only remaining parent. To have that piece destroyed, even when it was suppressed for so long, was a wound from which most would never recover.

But Arianwyn was not just any girl. She was the blood of Old Valyria and the daughter of Runestone. She would endure.

When her throat was raw from screaming and her eyes at last dry of tears, she let the fire that burned in her soul cool. It was not quenched – nor would it be for many years to come. Instead, the sprawling red blaze in her chest joined together in a single flame of crackling silvery blue. This fire burned not with heat, but a cold that made the icy fields beyond the Wall look like a scorching Dornish desert.  

Fire burned in the soul of every Targaryen born – but precious few had ever burned cold.

Alicent offered to have dinner brought up to Arianwyn, but she refused. She would not hide in a tower like a damsel from a story. She would walk once more into that dining room with her head held high and look upon her father with her mother’s grey eyes. She would show him just how like Rhea she was – that even bent and cracked, she would not break.

[lovelydelight]

I read Roll for Initiative by Sapphicwithapen forever ago and have been working on this ever since. This is actually a redraw but I only drew three of them before I started again

I’m not sure how I feel about the outfits and I’m about 100% sure I didn’t draw them how they imagined but I think overall it turned out really good

(I plan to post individuals later on, or if anyone want other duos let me know)

(Also here’s the link to the fic if you wanna check it out!!)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40285716/chapters/100908828

[inthedarknessofnight]

well, well, well… here we go again… didn’t think I’d manage to get through more than one fic last week because I was busy dying of the plague (aka covid), but I basically did nothing but read fics the whole weekend so here we are

KAYA’S STEDDIE-FIC WEEK PART 3 ✨

1. Skull Rock Era by @chattre-kisses

sue me but I’m actually a sucker for fics that have Eddie and Steve meet before the shitshow that is S4… this fic mingles the Steddie plot with the actual plot of the show so masterfully and so beautifully and I think every time that I get to experience Steve’s reaction to Eddie nearly dying in the Upside Down is a blessing from the ao3 gods… so many beautiful Steddie moments in this one and when I tell you, WHEN I FINALLY REALIZED WHAT THE TITLE OF THE FIC IS REFERRING TO… besties I started bawling

2. The Edification of Steve Harrington by ChronicRabbit

realized while reading this one that I’ve read a bunch of ‘Eddie takes care of Steve’ fics, but virtually no fics where it’s the other way around… after this one, you can rest assured I will be reading every single one out there because WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK 😭 also, anyone else out there weak for protective Steve? like, I want that mf to obliterate anyone who so much as looks at Eddie the wrong way… also Steve forgetting he’s got a date with a girl because he’s too distracted by Eddie might be my new favourite Steddie trope phaha… anyways, loved this

3. To Be Loved For No Reason At All by @beetlesandstarss

another ‘Steve takes care of Eddie’ fic… idk but there’s something so hauntingly sentimental about reading fics that were being written as S4 was still coming out… we were different humans back then fr… anyways, this fic… WOW… the song recs at the beginning of every chapter, *chef’s kiss* (tbh I’m sold anytime I see Sex by The 1975 phaha, easily convinced and all that)… also, I love me a slightly angsty Eddie, can you blame me… also, HE BROUGHT HIM FLOWERS, NO ONE SPEAK TO ME FOR A WEEK AHSGSFXAHSG… the smut in this is so gorgeously intimately written, the characterization is on point… and don’t even get me started on “CAN I KISS YOU?” “WILL YOU STILL WANT ME IN THE MORNING?”… yeah, I need to go touch some grass 🥲

all in all, another great week of Steddie fics, may have cried more during this one than any of the previous ones but like I’m on my period so don’t take me too seriously lol

[vveirdnobdy]

CRYING!!! JUST READ YOUR NEW TCF/GENSHIN CROSSOVER AND IM SO IN LOVE??? THANK YOU FOR SHARING!!!

No like seriously it's amazing and it's already one of my very favorite tcf fics out there. I can't wait to see more of Cale just being the nerd we all know he is and Alberu just going absolutely feral. I haven't touched genshin in forever and a year but you made me want to play it. (I have REALLY bad gacha luck on genshin and it killed my motivation for the game since I'm a f2p. I have not pulled even one 5 star lol.)

I will always support dragon Cale. And BABY dragon Cale??? Sign me UP.

AHHH IM SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT!!!

I’ll be real I’m someone who has spent insane amounts of time on Genshin to the point of multiple burnouts (Stopped playing at Sumeru released then hyper focused miserably on Sumeru played for a few updates and then stopped playing again at Fontaine release and here I am hyper focusing an insane amount once more) Straight up there’s a reason I have details like Cale having had multiple accounts and shit, because that is me I had multiple accounts.

I will say if you do revisit the game if you’re willing maybe make a new account? Only saying this cause my first account was pretty similar luck wise so I had always lost the 50/50 plus had to reach hard pity in order to get a 5 star, and then I made a new account and my luck is insane on that account. Swear that shit is tied to email.

When it comes to Cale nerd moments I can’t stress enough that it’s also my nerd moments, I think about this game a normal amount. And we haven’t even gotten into Alberu going batshit yet, wait until he meets Klee it’s going to be glorious.

AND BABY DRAGON CALE MY BELOVED. The Dragon Cale brainrot started cause of a different Tcf crossover I’m making atm, but the Genshin reobsession happened and it leaked into it. Also my totally normal views on any Dragon in media(I have favorites.) When it comes to the baby dragon detail, it’s not something I’ll go to far into as of now, but it is something that will be vastly expanded on in the fic itself. (Such as the little detail of baby dragons being terrible at hiding themselves.)

Outside of all that I’m so very glad you’re enjoying it! I’m afraid I didn’t pre write chapters when releasing this first one so it’s updates will be inconsistent as it’s more so a ‘gets posted when the chapters done’ kinda deal, but that also means I get a lot of time to cook with my writing! I hope you continue to enjoy the story as chapters are posted!

And I’ll leave this off on a note relating to events in Chapter 2 as a treat:

Cale is the sleepiest eepiest guy around

[inuhalfdemon]

No One Can Know...(15/?)

Word Count: 2,135 Words

Rating = Explicit (SMUT)

Chapter 15

"Don't you ever tame your demons

But always keep em' on a leash..."

- Hozier

Curiosity got the best of Alastor and days later he and Lucifer were naked together again, in his room. Lucifer theorized that if Alastor wanted to chase his subspace; find out what brought it on and explore its depths - it might benefit them to re-visit what they were doing in the place they had been doing it in.  

All of this…exploration…they were considering doing together - of course - was very out of character for Alastor. He might have waged internal battles with himself heavily over it if not for Lucifer…Lucifer assured him that whatever Alastor discovered in these sessions; it didn’t have to be something that contributed directly to his identity.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong.” Lucifer had explained. “Many people do like that part of it. They like being the dominant or the submissive and that’s something that they stick to but…it doesn’t have to be one way or the other. I doubt you’ll find enough interest in it for me to delve deeper into all of the terminology and whatnot that’s associated with it but, what I’m really trying to get at is this: do what feels good to you and don’t worry about what anyone else might think or like to call it. Just – don’t worry about that part of it.”

Just like before, Lucifer sat at the edge of the bed and Alastor knelt on the floor, facing him. It felt different – somehow more awkward – with the planning that was involved with this whole scenario now.

Alastor placed a clawed hand to each of Lucifer’s thighs and paused, hesitating.

This just feels so strange… His ears leant back, wondering if this ever really was something worth pursuing to begin with.

Seeing Alastor’s sudden reservation – anticipating it – Lucifer asked him, “Would you mind…very much if I suggested we try something?”    

It was a risk. Alastor very easily could be feeling too overwhelmed with what they were already trying to do here and adding something to the mix could make him balk from it further…or, it might just occupy his mind enough that he could push past it. 

Lucifer adjusted form and his long devil’s tail slid beside him.

“Give me your hands.” He instructed, holding his own out; palms up.

Alastor placed his hands in his and Lucifer slowly and purposefully folded Alastor’s together; his tail coiling and wrapping itself firmly around Alastor’s wrists.

Something in Alastor rebelled against this minor restraint and his body tensed; ears standing straight.

Lucifer immediately loosened his tail; but didn’t take it away.

“I can remove it.” Lucifer told him – waiting for him to decide.

“No, I’m-“ Alastor breathed, releasing his tension. “I’m good. I just wasn’t ready for it.”

Lucifer’s tail moved, winding itself so that it added more coils to Alastor’s bound hands without ever tightening the hold.

“Aren’t we supposed to have a ‘safe word’ or something if we’re going to be doing this?” Alastor asked, trying to distract himself as he relaxed his arms and let his hands hang limply bound in front of him.

Lucifer smiled. “If you’d like one, certainly. I promise you won’t ever need one with me, though. I’m very good at reading body language. I am curious to know though, what you might choose.” The tip of Lucifer’s tail was moving: rubbing gentle, soothing circles into Alastor’s arm.

“I really don’t have any grand ideas…” Alastor admitted, he could feel himself adjusting to the feeling of Lucifer’s tail wound around his wrists and he was incredibly thankful that Lucifer had chosen it and not a chain or a rope for their first time with them trying all of this.

“Does the word ‘Jambalaya’ make you feel safe?” Lucifer teased him,

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Hm…that is the idea, isn’t it…” Lucifer’s voice lowered. “Now, Alastor…come here –“ Lucifer’s tail pulled back; pulling Alastor’s bound hands and encouraging him closer. “- and show me that you can.”

Lucifer leant over and Alastor rose up on his knees to meet him.

Gripping him by his hair; Lucifer pulled Alastor’s mouth to his and kissed him roughly.

Alastor felt an unforeseen effect of his restriction – though it was meant to be minor – rather quickly. He had been so focused and concerned with how the binding of his hands would restrict his movements, that he hadn’t properly considered that he also wouldn’t be able to touch Lucifer with his hands. Lucifer was emphasizing this to him presently by raking his own hands, fingers and claws through Alastor’s hair; scratching pleasantly at both bases of his antlers and fondling with his ears.

Gasping; Alastor broke away from Lucifer’s mouth as he processed all that he was feeling. Lucifer readily took the opportunity and quickly busied himself with nipping and sucking at Alastor’s jawline and neck. 

Alastor’s body was somehow already responding to the feeling of being touched differently now that he was unable to touch; the pleasurable sensations feeling like they were striking him now ten-fold. Blood pooled deep in his belly and he felt his arousal quickly building. Alastor shifted; not quite testing the restraint of Lucifer’s tail but straining against it – feeling an incredible aching need to touch Lucifer with his bound hands. Lucifer responded by very subtly tightening his tail, and Alastor groaned at the feeling of restraint and frustration.

Lucifer pulled his face away from Alastor’s neck, shifting himself on the bed, and Alastor saw that Lucifer was very clearly hard now. Lucifer caught him considering the erection. Gripping Alastor’s antlers - their bases growing thicker and points stretching and widening in long and stretching branches – he tilted and pushed Alastor’s head down; widening the space between his own legs and lifting his pelvis.

Alastor’s mouth readily slid over the lifted cock and Lucifer moaned at the wet heat.

Suddenly, Alastor felt that slipping, sinking feeling again…that sub space. Lost in a building euphoric haze, he bobbed his head against Lucifer’s length; feeling the tip pushing and scraping against his hard palate and sliding toward the back of his throat.

Lucifer stiffened with a delicious tension; seeing that Alastor had slipped below the surface. Loosening his tail, he released Alastor’s wrists; the coils sliding away from the demon’s hands.

Alastor immediately took advantage of his freedom; wrapping his arms around Lucifer’s legs and pulling him roughly to him – claws digging into the skin; his mouth still clenched to the devil’s swelling shaft.

Lucifer’s tail snaked downward and finding Alastor; it slid itself over the sinner’s throbbing and seeping length. Lucifer flicked and teased at Alastor’s tip with it, sliding loose coils over the length and softly stroking. Alastor shifted himself with a deep and needy groan,  giving Lucifer better access to him. The coils looped and tightened around Alastor’s sex, resting with a hooked point pressed against Alastor’s balls. Gripping and holding Alastor in that way…his tail began moving; slowly sliding up and down - stimulating him.     

With Alastor’s groans building against Lucifer’s own length, he leant back and his hips jutted sharply forward. Gasping, he tried to reign himself back but then Alastor pressed himself further down – taking more of his length into his mouth and throat; Lucifer’s tip pressing into soft wet tissue. Lucifer bucked involuntarily and Alastor gagged and choked against him.

“FUCKING, FUCK! AL! That’s deep!” Lucifer bucked again when Alastor slid himself up only to come right back down.  

Alastor’s tail was frantically wagging.

Lucifer’s back arched and Alastor started growling appreciatively, sending humming vibrations to Lucifer that sent him into a frenzy of involuntary thrusts. Alastor’s claws dug deeper into his skin and Lucifer’s tail loosened as he tried to focus on restraining himself just enough to not completely wreck Alastor’s throat with his jutting. Lucifer’s tail began to slip away. Releasing one leg, Alastor reached for himself. He was incredibly hard now and desperate for relief. Gripping himself, his hand wrapped tightly around – clenching Lucifer’s tail in his fist as he began to pump himself in earnest.

Fuck! That hurts! Lucifer clenched his teeth, but the pain quickly became lost to pleasure. His hips bucked into Alastor’s mouth and the demon met his jut; somehow sliding himself so that Lucifer’s entire length was jammed inside. If Alastor could take that, Lucifer could deal with a crimp in his tail…     

Alastor was on the brink of it; and Lucifer’s tail tightened underneath his hand when Lucifer gave one last and final thrust; Alastor dipped his head down – firmly bit into the hard muscle - swallowing his prize as he simultaneously came with the King; cum slipping between his fingers and oozing onto Lucifer’s tail.

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

It didn’t take much coaxing for Lucifer to get Alastor into the bed with him; wrapped in covers and each other as the post-coital chemicals settled in their systems. Lucifer was familiar enough with sub space to know that: no matter the intensity of a session, aftercare was essential; and though this scenario had all been rather tame for him - the effect it had on Alastor might be very, very different. 

It pleased him incredibly to find that Alastor was much more cuddly afterward. Lucifer had lain down; lifting the covers so that Alastor might slide in beside him, but the sinner had surprised him. Alastor, instead, had crawled underneath the covers with him, pulling Lucifer closer to him by the waist so that he might lay himself across his stomach, resting his head comfortably on the angel’s chest.

A soft radio static hummed from Alastor once he settled and Lucifer couldn’t help the smile that touched his face at the sound.

Shifting his position just enough so that he had room to do it; Lucifer spread his wings – stretching the feathered limbs out briefly before folding them close and encasing him and Alastor in a gentle embrace.

“How was that? You feeling ok?” Lucifer asked Alastor.

Waking up from their post-sex nap, they had moved themselves into Alastor’s shower; Alastor was presently drenching himself under a burning hot jet of water while Lucifer hung back, wanting to adjust himself to the heat.

“Hm…yes.” Alastor croaked. “Very much ok.” His smile twitched. “I’m feeling quite wonderful actually, almost like I’ve been drinking.”

“You’re still coming down from the high, then.” Lucifer noted, stepping under the hot water with him now, his skin turning a vibrant red under the spraying jet. “We’ll finish up here and then we should eat; get you some tea for that throat, you fucking masochist.”

Alastor chuckled; the effort costing him a bout of coughing. Lucifer absently flicked his tail; feeling the reciprocating bruising he had sustained to the small vertebrae.

Lucifer was glad that Alastor seemingly wasn’t reading too much into his attentiveness. Lucifer had had his share of sub drops and didn’t wish the experience on anyone…better to avoid it happening to Alastor, if he could.

“Well, we’re doing something right.” Lucifer told him, reaching for Alastor’s shampoo. Grabbing the base of an antler; he pulled Alastor’s head down to him so that he might begin lathering the soap into the deer demon’s hair and fur. Alastor hummed, enjoying the special attention he was receiving.

I’ve never seen him so relaxed and so…clearly happy. His tail is even flicking about like it’s on parade.

“Did you dislike the restraint?” Lucifer asked him, claws working the lather gently into Alastor’s scalp.   

“Surprisingly…” Alastor gulped, clearing his throat. “No, I didn’t. At least, not once I…adjusted.”

“It might have helped…it generally helps me get into that…mindset.” Tilting him by the antler, Lucifer moved Alastor’s head into the water to rinse the lather from his fur. Once he was rinsed; Alastor shook himself, bringing his head back down to Lucifer so that he might start on the conditioner.

“Lucky, that you tend to be so touch-averse after…this isn’t something we should be doing all of the time. It gets…addicting; chasing that high. I kind of went over-board with it myself when I first discovered it.” 

“Hm…I could see why.” Alastor allowed, grinning like a happy idiot while Lucifer continued to work at his hair.

“Jesus, you are gorked.”

Alastor hummed his agreement.

“We should have enough to go off of now, though…we know where to start when we try again, if-“ Lucifer paused, finishing with the conditioner and letting Alastor go so that he could rinse himself again. “If you’re interested in pursuing more with it, of course. We really don’t have to.”

 Alastor shook himself again, turning to Lucifer and taking him softly by the face with one hand; claws swiping gently against wet skin. “I think I might like to pursue anything more when it comes to you, Luci.” Leaning in, he kissed the angel softly upon the lips, saying softly: “I think I might like that very much.”  

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

Updates have been sporadic as this story has developed. I'll now be posting new Chapters every Saturday going forward; next update coming 5/18/24. If you guys would like to see snippets of chapters here on my tumblr in-between posts, let me know in the comments.

[canonicallyobserving911]

WIP Wednesday

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

Season 7 FANON FanFic: Buddie Multi-Chapter Fanfic - Hiatus Reading: “I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Chapter 28 will be posted soon.

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

Currently 27 chapters completed: 1.09M Words; Rated: Mature

One chapter will be posted at a time.

___________

I'm excited to finish writing Chapter 28 because at the end of Chapter 27, Buck, Eddie and Chris had just arrived in Philadelphia, PA so that Buck could say goodbye to his friend, Malone who passed away in December. Also, he wants to visit Daniel's grave again but this time he brought his husband and their son with him. While they're in PA, they're going to Hershey and Lancaster but is it possible they'll bump into the Buckley parents while they're visiting museums and eating Hershey's chocolate? When they were planning the trip, Eddie hoped they wouldn't but with their luck, it's possible. Buck planned a celebration for Eddie while they're there since he received his Paramedic Certification Certificate but Eddie's the only one who doesn't know about it.

When they return to L.A., of the four cardiac tests Dr. Salazar scheduled for Buck, he'll have two left to complete but the Diazes are worried since he fainted during the tilt table test and they're wondering if there are any long-term effects to his heart after the lightning strike. Additionally, all three members of the Diaz family are supporting one another as Buck continues to face the fact that he died last year and as he proceeds to deal with all 7 stages of grief. He was on the bargaining stage at the end of Chapter 27 but the next stage is depression so how will he deal with it, especially with everything else that's going on in their family?

___________

Here's a snippet from Chapter 28 of Buck and Eddie having a conversation while they're in bed in their hotel room in Philadelphia, PA.

___________

They're lying in bed facing each other and Buck decides to ask the question he's been wanting to ask since Tuesday. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You know you can ask me anything.  What would you like to discuss?”

He unwraps one of his arms, lifts his hand and cups his cheek.  “First, I want you to know how proud I am of you.”  After the words leave his lips, he closes the millimeters of space between them and he places a kiss onto his lips that’s soft, tantalizing and filled with love and devotion.  When he pulls back, he continues.  “Babe… from September to December, you worked hard to pass your Paramedic Certification Course, you accomplished your dream and me and Chris wanted to celebrate your achievement with you again.  I know we did it back in December after you finished your final exam but you’re officially a paramedic now and that’s important.”

Eddie nods as he remembers everything they did earlier in the day to celebrate.  With a smile on his face, he replies, “Thank you for the cake, the song and for the tour at the Giant Center”.

“You know you don’t have to thank me.  We wanted to do all of it just for you, Eddie because you deserve it.”  He takes a moment to prepare the next part because he knows how his husband internalizes everything and he wants the next thing he says to land properly.  “You becoming a paramedic is huge and extraordinary but we didn’t know you received your official certificate until I found it inside of one of the drawers in our credenza.  Um… you didn’t tell us about it but do you want to talk about why you didn’t mention it?”

Eddie sighs as the internal conflict he’s felt since it arrived last week increases.  “When it was delivered last Friday… I opened and looked at it but…”  He shrugs his shoulders as he tries to think of the words, he wants to use to describe how he felt.

“But what?” 

“With everything we have happening right now... it all seems so far away and I’m wondering if I should…”

He interrupts him and whisper asks, “If you should what?  Eddie, please don’t say you’re thinking about stopping.”

How is Eddie going to respond to Buck's question? 👀

Is he really considering giving up his dream of becoming the Critical Care Paramedic of Los Angeles County? 🙃

If so, why? 🤷🏽‍♀️

___________

Fic Summary: Months after Buck and Eddie were hit by the same lightning strike; they’re still struggling with the aftermath of it.  But before they make their love confessions, they’ll spend time getting to know themselves as individuals first. Eddie learns to enjoy the simple things in life as he participates in activities on his own and with new friends while Buck learns the rest of the 31-year-old deep dark family secret about his conception and birth. Their journey to forever is still a work in progress but once they finally admit they’re in love with each other, everything that follows their love confessions will be cataclysmic.

__________

Chapter Summaries

Chapter 1 - Eddie makes a new friend while Buck receives devastating news regarding the sperm donation he made for Connor and Kameron.

Chapter 2 - Buck does a lot of research to learn more about the abnormalities found in his red blood cells and Eddie starts a new therapy journey that’s all about him and not the traumas he’s experienced.

Chapter 3 - After more than a month, Buck and Eddie finally spend time together outside of work but it doesn’t end well and they part with a lot of uncertainty regarding their places in each other’s lives.

Chapter 4 - Eddie has a few realizations about his life which causes him to consider moving back to El Paso, TX while Buck continues to be reminded of his past which causes him to take an impromptu road trip across America.

Chapter 5 - Both Buck and Eddie have difficult conversations with their parents and Buck finally learns the truth behind the reason why his mother despised him while Eddie finally tells his mother about the way she tries to control him.

Chapter 6 - More than two weeks after Buck pushed Eddie away after suggesting they needed a break; Eddie decides to try again. Eddie’s there for Buck when he’s at his worst just like Buck was there for him when he was at his worst and he won’t let Buck give up.

Chapter 7 - After Buck’s mental breakdown, Eddie has his back the same way Buck had his when he had his own breakdown more than a year ago.  They share several vulnerable and emotionally intimate moments with one another and they begin to realize their small, sweet and caring gestures matter just as much if not more than any grand gesture ever could because these are the foundations of a long-lasting love relationship.

Chapter 8 - Buck, Eddie and Chris all have their own therapists and during their sessions, they reflect on their pasts while they’re in the present so they can prepare for their future together as a family.

Chapter 9 - Buck and Eddie are there for each other when Buck has to testify as a witness during the trial.  But by the end of it, they’ll both realize their individual and shared traumas are going to keep resurfacing until they talk about them, deal with the fact that they’re in love with one another and face the fact that they can’t live without each other.

Chapter 10 - As Buck and Eddie finally begin to confront their past traumas, they realize how much they need each other to fill in the gaps of their memories.  Additionally, the universe screams at them for what appears to be the one hundredth time so Buck can realize he doesn’t have to ‘find it’ because he already ‘made it’ and Eddie’s reminded tomorrow isn’t promised and he doesn’t have to die alone if he doesn’t want to.

Chapter 11 - A “virga” or dry thunderstorm is in the forecast but once the rain starts, the thunderstorm happening outside won’t be able to match the storm brewing inside between Buck and Eddie.  It’s the universe’s final scream and when the tumultuous winds begin to blow, they’ll have one last chance to hold onto everything they’ve built over the last six years or they’ll lose it all forever.

Chapter 12 - Buck and Eddie have always shared a deep physical attraction and an emotional intimacy that’s unmatched but now that they’re in a relationship, they’re learning how to navigate the romantic intimacy they’ve been waiting for six years to explore. The love they have for each other is a once in a lifetime, soulmate, love of their lives type of love that transcends space and time.

Chapter 13 - While navigating the newness of their romantic relationship, Buck and Eddie take advantage of every moment they spend together. As their individual lives, people from their pasts, time constraints and the possibility of losing each other again make attempts to interrupt and interfere with their journey to forever, they love, care for, support and hold onto each other even tighter to withstand it all.

Chapter 14 - Buck and Eddie can see the lights at the end of the tunnels regarding the results of Buck’s Cancer Screening along with everything else they’re dealing with. But are the lights they see exits to the tunnels or are they headlights on different runaway trains that are speeding towards them in an effort to interrupt their forever?

Chapter 15 - Buck and Eddie have known they were exactly who the other one wanted in a partner since they met six years ago when they agreed to have each other’s backs. They’re in a romantic relationship, they’re both preparing to ask the other one to spend forever with them and by the end of the seventh week into their relationship, together they will plan their most important and greatest adventure for their future.

Chapter 16 - As Buck and Eddie begin to prepare for their marriage ceremony that will take place in Rome, Italy in December 2023, they start planning their first international adventure as a romantic couple. Even though Chris is still the only person they’ve told about their relationship, several people who know them have already witnessed the love they share and as the days continue, others will witness it too.

Chapter 17 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to departing Los Angeles for their international adventure, a moment in time will remind them; life is fragile, tomorrow isn’t promised and every second of everyday should be cherished because everything can change in an instant. The result of that realization will cause them to hold onto each other even more.

Chapter 18 - As Buck, Eddie and Chris prepare for family gatherings before and during the Thanksgiving holiday, the “Santa Ana Winds” start to blow and all sorts of expected and unexpected familial drama ensues.

Chapter 19 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to their wedding day, the universe begins to align everything so that some of their parent and children's relationships are strengthened while others come to an abrupt end.

Chapter 20 - With only 14 days remaining until Buck, Eddie and Chris depart Los Angeles, CA traveling to Rome, Italy, for their first family adventure, an early morning conversation about “tying up loose ends” helps Buck and Eddie realize there are still several things left unfinished on their ‘To Do’ lists. The question is will there be enough time to complete all of them?

Chapter 21 - Buck, Eddie and Chris are finalizing their ‘To Do’ Lists, double checking their itineraries and packing their suitcases in preparation for their trip to Europe so they can board their flight that departs Los Angeles, CA on Friday, December 15, 2023 at 3:25PM.

Chapter 22 - While Buck, Eddie and Chris spend the first 8 days of their European family adventure in Italy, their primary reason for going will be fulfilled as well as several others they hadn’t considered or anticipated.

Chapter 23 - As the Diaz Family continues their Italian family adventure, they’ll say, “Ciao” or hello and goodbye to a lot of things almost immediately after they become an official and legal family.

Chapter 24 - After Buck, Eddie and Chris arrive in London, England on December 24th; the Diazes immediately start preparing to spend their first family Christmas together. During their stay, each of them will hear a few choice words that will be the life raft to get them home to complete their searches to be seen and to be found.

Chapter 25 - After spending more than two weeks in Europe, Eddie, Buck and Chris are back in Los Angeles and they’re getting ready to attend Maddie and Chimney’s New Year’s Eve party. During the event, they have plans to make two surprise announcements but the question is, who’s really going to be surprised, the Diaz family or their found family at the 118?

Chapter 26 - Buck and Eddie are once again faced with their greatest fear of losing each other but this time it could be permanent and if it is, then they won’t be able to spend the rest of their lives together.

Chapter 27 - After Buck resumes therapy, he’ll continue to face the fact that he “DIED” in March 2023 and during those sessions, he’ll learn about the 7 stages of grief. As he continues his healing journey, Eddie will be right by his side just like he promised and the Diaz family will start to deal with their three minutes and seventeen seconds loss as a family.

Chapter 28 - Will be posted soon.

__________

Read chapters 1-27 are available on AO3.

Continue reading on AO3

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  Capriciously_Terminal! @capriciouslyterminal has 106 fics on ao3 in the Stranger Things fandom and 105 of them are in the Steddie tag!

@mustardyellowlilac recommends the following works by Capriciously_Terminal:

Where the Sun Can't Reach

Spit Me out, You Don't Know Where I've Been

It's the Ritual of the Thing

Baby I'm Your Man (Don't Fear the Reaper)

It's as if she writes memories, rather than stories, and that makes them tangible and devastating -- @mustardyellowlilac

Below the cut, @capriciouslyterminal answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I started writing Steddie because the characters of Steve and Eddie have such specific and human voices that I literally couldn’t get them out of my head after watching the first drop of S4. (Also I’d just gotten a new puppy who didn’t love sleeping through the night so I had plenty of time to think). The more I wrote for them the deeper I found myself in their voices and thinking about what they could do and I had to keep going until I ran out of steam.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I love a good “Steddie interwoven into previous seasons’ canon events” story. Especially if an author makes it SO specific. I want Steve and Eddie in Starcourt. I want Eddie Munson popping up at the pumpkin patch. I want Eddie Munson in the background at Starcourt drooling. I want him to spend this whole time watching Steve’s character growth and finding it impossibly hot before getting twisted up in the horror.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I definitely love adding Eddie Munson to canon (thinking about him and life-guard Steve Harrington is where this all began, afterall). However I think that I, as a person, am just as obsessed with The Horrors. As such adding monstrosity/new flavors of spooky to this show was my favorite thing to do.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I can narrow it down to two! My favorite piece of Steddie fic that changed my brain chemistry has got to be fastcardotmp3’s “that’s just wasteland, baby!” (https://archiveofourown.org/works/42351597) because the scene in the lake? The genuine wonderful take on in media res apocalypse living? Dot’s talent for characterization/love? I’ll never live it down. Actually, go read everything by fastcardotmp3. Do yourself a favor. The other has to be “every mistake was made purposefully” by birthdaycandles (https://archiveofourown.org/works/41795838/chapters/104862381). It turns out I’m a sucker for excellent narration and watching Steddie/plot shenanigans from Tommy Hagan’s prickly point of view. It gave me everything I’ve ever wanted.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I always wanted to write a When Harry Met Sally AU about Steve and Eddie meeting throughout their lives/development. I don’t know if I’ll ever pick it up again but it’s still there knocking at the back of my mind. I’ve also got like fifteen of the drabbles in i love you you dope with bits of continuation in my head too.

What is your writing process like?

In general, my writing is a very all or nothing process. It’s either going to go all day, through meals, and not stop until the idea is finished OR I’m going to be stalled completely. Generally, though, if I’m in my crazy inspired phase I’ll have an idea (specifically the beginning of something) and if that idea sticks in my head for more than a single day then I probably can’t leave it until it’s done. However, this did change with my writing i love you you dope. I decided to answer p0ck3tf0x's "100 Ways to Say I Love You" list one prompt at a time. Once a day. RIP. This led to a writing process which was more of a sit down after work and immediately write the first thing you could think of until it’s done kind of affair. I can’t recommend that style lol. It led to some pretty intense burnout by the end but I am proud of how many ideas came because of it. It showed that, through tenacity, most ideas could be something worth pursuing.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I can’t help but put first and second person pronouns in descriptions as if speaking to the reader and I’m a frequent and blatant tense shifter. It’s all over the place at times lol. I also LOVE a good stream of consciousness description, flitting from one image to another, which probably lead to these grammatical quirks and a shit ton of run-on sentences.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Before I started writing i love you you dope I very much preferred finishing my writing before I posted it. It took ages but nothing felt worse than having to leave something unfinished because I’d lost the plot (which has happened several times).  However, part of the draw of i love you you dope was that (as a challenge) I had to write and post daily. While I learned I can write on such a grueling schedule, I can safely say after finishing it that I prefer having the time to ensure something’s to my standards. Or, at least, until I’m tired of looking at it and just want other people to see it.

Which fic are you most proud of?

If we branch outside of my Steddie work it’s a fic for a little show called Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency that I think I’ll never top. A Road Song in Quartet that Smells like a Trio is basically my novel/brain-child about my favorite rowdy vampire boys and I have to shout it out everywhere I go. However, to stick to the Steddie, I had such a great time with characterization in writing It’s the Ritual of the Thing. Some of those descriptions are still some of my best work. Or, I’d have to say, Can We Both Be Lonely If We’re Both Looking at Each Other? It’s an AU modeled after the world of The Magnus Archives Podcast and not only was I proud of the way I was able to layer monstrosity on both Eddie and Steve but I just loved the world. I actually planned out a whole main plot for the world that never saw the light of day.

How did you get the idea for Baby I'm Your Man (Don't Fear the Reaper)?

I can’t remember which came first, the title or the idea of Eddie meeting Death as played by Steve Harrington, but the song title by Blue Öyster Cult had definitely been sitting in my head for a while. The idea initially started as a Seventh Seal reference with Eddie having to challenge Death with Steve Harrington’s face to a game of basketball but that scene wasn’t working so instead we got a trip through various S4 locales and a fun Death with good hair.

When writing Spit Me out, You Don't Know Where I've Been, what was something you didn’t expect?

I honestly didn’t know if anyone would vibe with the language/story. For a fic that focused a lot on unease, offal, and how hard it would be to picture a future in a small town I was waiting for people to not touch this one with a ten foot pole. So to hear that it actually channeled people’s feelings or that it was something that people enjoyed (as opposed to just me shouting stressful things at the sky) was a big expectation dodge.

What inspired It's the Ritual of the Thing?

When I was in high school I had a friend who asked me out once, the first person to ever do so, and my first instinctual response was to genuinely ask him why he was really calling me after school. He insisted that he really did want to ask me out and for some reason that made my blood run cold. The date did not go well, obviously, but I remembered the gut punch to think someone wouldn’t want you/the desire to say no just because it frightened you for years afterwards. It felt like such an Eddie thing to feel, especially if Steve Harrington was the one to ask him out. Honestly…I poured a lot of my own worldview into Eddie Munson as I wrote him and that’s where a lot of this came from.

What was your favorite part to write from Ritual of the Thing?

I’d have to say it’s a toss up between two parts. Firstly, I’ll never get over the descriptive imagery in the beginning (I’ll never forget lines like “Suddenly it’s like he’s a Jack-O-Lantern with his mouth carved open. A candle sits on his tongue and its light is shining out of his eyes”). It was the kind of sentence I was thrilled to read after I wrote it. Secondly, I was really proud of Eddie and Robin’s conversation after Steve told her about his asking Eddie out. I loved both of their voices in that moment and the thought of Robin trying to explain how much Steve could love you even after you’d had to let him down…and her little fake nightmare discussion.

How do/did you feel writing Where the Sun Can't Reach?

On one hand it felt like I was exorcizing something because I show my class The Sandlot once a year and that means for one day I watch the scene where the kid fakes drowning to make-out with the lifeguard four times. That’s too many times. I had to process that. But I do remember that feeling of loneliness that could come with summer. That could come with wishing for a room somewhere with someone you loved when it felt impossible. I remember when the smallest of things could mean the world when you had nothing else…so in a way maybe I was exorcizing that too.

What was the most difficult part of writing Where the Sun Can't Reach?

Besides the jokey answer of reliving the aforementioned scene from The Sandlot on purpose, I’d have to say trying to accurately consider the physics/feelings of Eddie’s trip into the water. The feelings/actual consequences of hitting his head. I’m not too sure I got the details right but I remember working on it so many times that I eventually threw in the towel and went with what I had.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I think…it’s gotta go to my lone vampire Steddie fic I Go Hungry Every Night. The whole thing’s one big treatise to Upside Down skinned vampires and food/service as a love language? And also the fact that I love vampires/monstrosity. I just went way too hard with the line: “If you asked Steve what the opposite of tracing constellations in someone’s freckles in the afterglow would be he’d say this, making shapes in the pieces of the wound they’ve given you. The one that weeps red slowly.”

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

While I wish I did, and I’m always thinking about various unfinished fics in the strangest moments of my life, I think I’m pretty knocked from my Steddie writing mojo. I love you you dope was an incredible process and I am so proud of it…but I think it cauterized my writing brain for Steddie. I’d love for people to poke around the fics I wrote and I will say that other people’s intrigue sometimes pulls my attention back to old ideas…but I do believe I’m a bit out to pasture here lol.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Writing Steddie was something that kept me sane during a really stressful transition from college to adulthood. These characters and all the people I got to meet/talk with in this fandom have been one of the greatest joys in my life. I’m so honored, like honestly floored, that anyone would nominate me for something like this. The thing about writing fic is that oftentimes when you start it can feel like you can’t possibly amount to what other people do. Like you’re just a little voice that doesn’t have anything special about it even when you tried so hard. But I stand as someone who felt that way and still found that people did enjoy what I wrote and if I can do it, honestly, anyone can. <3

Thank you to our author, @capriciouslyterminal, and our nominator, @mustardyellowlilac! See more of Capriciously_Terminal's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!