#I am SUPPOSED to be TAKING A BREAK from WRITING so I don't BURN OUT

[penny00dreadful]

So does anyone remember that post that was like "Robin and Eddie meet when she does that thing that's like 'hello, please pretend you know me so I can get away from this person' then Steddie happens?" Because I do. I cannot for the life of me find it. If anyone knows the post I'm talking about please let me know so I can link it, this is very much not my idea, it's that persons idea but the brain worms got me so here we are. 🤷‍♀️

We found it! It's this post by @wynnyfryd Thank you Anon! Obviously I went in a different direction with it but this post was 100% my inspiration so thank you for helping me find it!

AO3 link for those asking! 🖤

Robin should be royally pissed off with herself right now. She would be if she wasn’t so damn scared.

That guy was still trailing behind her, no matter the twists and turns she’d taken down different streets trying to lose him and the only thing she’d gained from it was to get totally and completely lost. It could be something completely innocent, the guy might be coincidentally going in the same direction as her but she wasn’t willing to give him the benefit of the doubt if it meant keeping herself alive.

The distance between the two of them was slowly closing as she was followed through the dark and empty streets of the city, hoping, praying for some kind of shop or restaurant or something to make an appearance so she could hide inside but apparently Robin was able to find the one street in this city where everything was either closed for the night or boarded up.

Her heart was pounding in her ears and the beginnings of tears were starting to sting her eyes and all she could think of was how sick with worry Steve was going to be in the morning when he woke up to no missed calls, no missed texts and no Robin. She’d scoffed at him hours earlier when he’d offered to go to the ‘work thing’ with her but she'd told him she was a big girl and she could look after herself and not to be such a worrywart mom.

And now she had no idea where her phone had gone, if she'd left it behind or dropped it somewhere, no idea where she was and no idea of what she was going to do.

If she’d been a bit more present in her head she probably would have noticed the loud, braying, male laughter coming from just ahead of her and crossed the street to avoid them before it was obvious she was avoiding them. But as it was she could barely see straight through her tears and panicked tunnel vision while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the slowly encroaching guy behind her. She was practically already in the group’s space and one of them had definitely already seen her though he didn’t pay her any attention.

But even through her blurred vision and panic, she finally registered what exactly she was looking at. Four men standing around the entrance to what looked like the diviest of empty dive bars, chain smoking and being as loud as humanly possible, but that’s not what caught her eye.

Long hair, chains, leather, denim, tartan, rings, tattoos, subculture. If Robin had to choose a group of men to approach, any kind of subculture would be the best option. They knew what it was like to be other. There was no guarantee these guys were safe, but they were probably safer than a group of frat boys.

The next thing that caught her eye that nearly made her cry in relief as she got closer were the patches and pins.

A rainbow ‘A’ against a black and white striped background pinned on one guys collar, a yellow-white-purple-black patch on another's arm, a pink-yellow-blue patch over the third guys heart and a progress pride flag pinned to the largest guys pocket.

Her people.

Without a second's hesitation she made a bee-line for them, planting herself firmly next to yellow-white-purple-black patch person who had a mess of thick light brown curls that reminded her of Steve’s hair. They fell painfully silent at her arrival.

The four of them blinked down at her, with her tearfilled eyes and wild aura of panic around her they were probably, understandably freaked out.

“Hi guys!” She called out to them, probably a little too loud, hoping her voice carried back to the fucker following her, tensing as she could actually hear his footsteps approaching now.

The guy with the longest hair and the pink-yellow-blue patch standing directly in front of her glanced quickly over her shoulder before returning his gaze to her. His face split into a wide warm grin, tapping her shoulder lightly.

“Hey girlie. We thought you weren’t coming, we’ve been waiting.”

The footsteps behind her audibly slowed down. Robin laughed, a little maniacally, keeping her frantic gaze on him, not daring to turn around. “Yeah, I uh- g- got sidetracked.”

“Eddie, what-”

Pink-yellow-blue patch guy, Eddie she supposed, slapped ‘A’ patch guy lightly on the stomach with the back of his hand, shutting him up as her pursuer passed them by, giving the group a wide berth.

“Hey, no worries. You’re here now, right?”

Pride patch guy kept his eyes on the guy who’d been following her the whole time, only looking away when he eventually turned the corner, disappearing into the night.

Robin immediately felt her posture slacken now that he was finally gone, the full weight of everything coming down on her. Her tears began to spill over and her whole body shook as hysterical sobs started to pour out of her body.

“I’m sorry. I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. I think I left my phone behind and I don’t know where I am. We only moved here a couple of weeks ago and I got lost trying to get away and- and-”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Yellow-white-purple-black patch person squeezed her shoulder lightly, keeping their distance. “You’re okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“We can call someone for you, if you want?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms tight like he was trying not to reach out to her, probably worried it would freak her out more. “Boyfriend or girlfriend-”

“Or romantic partner.” The person with their hand on her shoulder interjected lightly.

“Alright Baron from the Baronies.” Eddie snorted. “But fair point, Gareth. Romantic partner or friend or whatever?”

“Um,” Robin’s voice was still shaking. “I don’t… I’ve never been good at memorising numbers…”

“Me too, terrible at them.” Eddie smiled again, pulling his phone from his pocket. Robin’s fear and panic was almost entirely gone now even though she was still hiccuping and sniffling underneath their concerned gazes. They were all firmly keeping their distance, keeping any touches short and fleeting, not moving too suddenly, trying their best to make sure she knew they weren’t a threat and it was really helping her to start feeling safe again. “But we could try to find them online? Instagram or something?”

“Yeah. Yeah we could try that.” She wiped her eyes roughly against her sleeve as she shuffled over to Eddie’s side. “My best friend, Steve, he uh- he’s probably asleep and I don’t think you can call him if you don’t have him added…”

“You can send him a message.” Eddie replied easily, handing his phone over. “And if he doesn’t wake up, we’ll try something else.” 

“Don’t worry we’ll get you home.” ‘A’ patch guy smiled down at her while pride patch guy nodded along.

Robin sniffed again. “Thanks.” She was able to conjure up a small watery smile as she opened the app and found Steve’s profile, shooting off a quick message begging him not to freak out and explaining the situation as concisely as she could.

“Here.” She handed Eddie back his phone who glanced down at it for just a second before his eyes widened slightly as he scrolled through Steve’s profile.

“Oh shit. This is your friend?”

Robin nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

“He’s… he’s really pretty.”

That managed to pull a startled laugh from her. “Oh god, don’t tell him that, you’ll give him a big head.”

“Let me see?” Gareth asked, whistling low when Eddie turned his phone around showing a photo of Steve and Robin at their last pride parade cheering with the crowd, Steve with the pink-purple-blue of the bi flag smeared across each cheek and Robin with the pinks, oranges and white of the lesbian flag draped around her shoulders. “He is really pretty.”

Eddie snatched the phone back, cradling it to his chest. “Fuck off, Gare. I saw him first.”

Robin smiled again. “Any response from him?”

“Hm?” Eddie asked distractedly, scrolling through Steve’s photos before pride flag guy punched him in the shoulder. “Ow! Wh- oh, sorry!” Eddie frantically scrolled back up before clicking into his messages again and shaking his head. “Nothing yet.” He held the phone out to show her.

“Okay.”

“What’s your address? If he doesn’t respond, we'll find a way to get you there.”

“Uh…” Robin was drawing a complete blank, only able to remember her parents home address hundreds of miles away.

“Or tell us something nearby.” Eddie added, not missing a beat, clearly picking up on Robin’s lack of an answer. “What’s on your street?”

“Um,” she closed her eyes, trying to picture it in her head, “there’s a couple of Chinese take outs, Asian food store, paint store… there’s… I think it’s a tattoo parlour? There’s designs painted on the window, a tower on either side. I think they’re from Lord of the Rings?”

“Inklings? Is that the place?”

Robin opened her eyes. Eddie was grinning at her conspiratorially. “That’s it. You know it?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I work there?”

“No way.”

“Way.”

Hope was starting to grow feathers inside Robin’s chest. She could go home, she didn’t have to stay out all night waiting for Steve to wake up and never let her out of his sight again, she could hug her best friend and drink coffee out of her favourite mug and curse at their finicky fridge and steal his hair products again. She could go home.

“Is it far?”

“Nah, only a few streets away. Ten minute walk, tops.”

“D’you- I mean… do you think you could-” Could she really ask them to walk her home after they’d already done so much for her? Would she be asking too much? Could she be putting herself in more danger?

“I can take you there if you want? Let you get back to your… Steve.” There was a slight blush dusting over Eddie’s cheeks. Maybe he did have an ulterior motive, but it wasn’t an ulterior motive involving her. If she wasn’t so wrung out and aching to crawl into her own bed she’d be thinking up teasing material to lambaste Steve with. But as it was, she was desperate to get home.

“Would that be okay?”

“Yeah.” Eddie replied, bright and easy. “It would just be me and you though,” he held his hands up in surrender, “and you can totally say no, like if you're uncomfortable or whatever. Gareth is Grant and Jeff’s ride home and you’re still on the clock, right?” He turned to Gareth towards the end of his sentence.

“Yeah, but I get off shift in about an hour so could come in if you wanted, wait around in the back room until then if you wanna go as a group?” They answered. 

“I think… I think I just want to get home.”

“Okay, cool. No worries I’ll get you there safe and sound. Here,” Eddie pulled his phone out again, “I’m gonna message Steve to let him know we’re on the way in case he wakes up,” he showed her the short message only sending it off when she gave a nod, “and I’ll get you to navigate just so we don’t get lost.” 

He handed his phone to her with the maps app open, directing them towards Inklings tattoo parlour. He was playing it off like an easy joke, instead of another way to assure her she was safe. He was making sure she knew exactly where he was taking her at all times, he was making sure she had the ability to call the police or whatever if he turned on her, he was making sure she knew he didn’t need or want her address if she didn’t want to give it. 

This fucking guy.

He definitely wouldn’t be the worst choice Steve had ever made if it did go that way.

“I don’t know how to thank all of you, seriously. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t run into you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Grant smiled at her before hesitating. “Uh, I just realised we don’t have your name.”

“Oh!” She laughed at herself, feeling lighter. “I’m Robin.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Robin.” Grant held his hand out, shaking hers once she took it.

“Likewise.”

“And don’t worry about thanking us, just pay it forward, yeah?” Jeff said.

“Plus.” Gareth took on a nonchalant tone even though they had a smirk plastered over their face. “We’ll see you again at Steve and Eddie’s wedding.”

“Shut up!” Eddie scowled but didn’t hold onto it for long in the wake of Robin’s giggles.

She sighed once the giggles subsided, a weight lifted off her shoulders. “I look forward to it.” She raised her hand in salute as the three of them headed back inside, turning to Eddie as he held his elbow out.

“Shall we?”

Robin tried to suppress her smile but took Eddie’s arm anyway. They only made it down one street and around one corner, Robin clutching tight to Eddie’s phone before he finally asked.

"So."

"So."

"Best friend Steve." Eddie twirled his rings around his fingers. "Is he…"

“He’s single.” She answered lightly. “But you might be arriving into his life at the wrong time. He’s recently sworn off men.”

“Well we’ve all sworn off men once or twice. Men are terrible.”

“Agreed.”

“Is it because of a bad ex?”

Robin threw her head back with a groan remembering the giant breakdown that had finally finally ended it. “Tommy was the worst. He’s the reason we even moved out here, there’s nowhere to get away from an ex in a small town, you know? They’re everywhere. I’m not going to go into what happened, it’s not my business to say but it was bad.”

Eddie nodded, his eyes down on the ground, running through everything in his head.

Robin could see the tattoo parlour up ahead, the glorious sight of their apartment building just a few buildings away.

“Do you think… with time… he could open himself up to men again?”

Eddie had such a tentative hope in his eyes, it was adorable really. Looking over him, she thought about the type of people Steve would constantly thirst over, blip in the matrix Tommy Hagan notwithstanding.

Lithe bodies with full lips and giant eyes, hair he could run his fingers through and something unusual about them. Something odd.

He’d never explicitly gone for someone so heavily into a subculture before but he’d never turned them down either. And based on Eddie’s job at the tattoo parlour and the way he was dressed, he almost definitely had some ink on him. That alone would be enough to make Steve swoon.

“I think he might. Will you walk me up?” Robin asked, holding the door to the building open, offering Eddie the same kindness under the guise of doing a favour that he had offered her so many times tonight.

“Yeah, sure.”

They’d managed to make it up to the third floor, walking down her hallway before Eddie’s phone started to ping incessantly.

She turned the phone over in her hand, looking at the screen. “He’s awake.”

Robin, where are you?

Are you okay?

I’m on the way.

Please be okay.

Their apartment door was flung open just as they reached it. Steve was standing there panting and terrified, his hair a mess, his glasses askew, his jacket and shoes thrown haphazardly over his pyjamas.

“Robbie.”

Steve slammed into her, holding her tight before immediately letting go to inspect her face and running his hands over her body, checking to see if anything was wrong.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened? What do you need?”

“Steve.” Robin caught his fluttering hands in hers and squeezed, nearly crying out in relief just to have him with her again. “I’m okay. Eddie and his friends helped me.”

“Eddie-” Steve looked to the side, noticing her saviour for the first time. “You’re Eddie.”

“I’m Eddie.” Eddie gave him a short little wave and a dazzling smile that quickly dropped in shock as Steve pulled him into a crushing hug, his blush returning with full force.

“Thank you, thank you so much. I don’t know what I would’ve-” Steve took a big breath in and loosened his arms from around Eddie’s shoulders. Robin saw his eyes slowly trail over his face before very briefly flicking down to the pink-yellow-blue patch then back up. “Come inside, the two of you. Can I get you anything? Tea? Decaf coffee? A glass of water? Like, literally anything to say thank you.” He asked, ushering the two of them into the apartment.

Steve caught Robin’s eye behind Eddie’s back and mouthed ‘oh my god he’s fucking gorgeous!’

Robin snorted and thought to herself ‘sworn off men, my ass.’

[spookyxsprinkles]

🍦 Freezer Burn [oneshot]

todoroki touya × poc friendly f!reader.

-> not safe for work // 6.3k words // AO3. -> warnings: angst, break up, arguing, crying, touya has an avoidant attachment style, dialogue heavy, poor communication, nipple biting, oral, possessive, fingering.

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"Don't be so melodramatic. We weren't even dating," Touya said, taking his keys out of his pocket.

"I--I know but... you know what I mean."

"What do you expect me to say?" He scoffed. "That I'm sorry? 'Cause I'm not. I don't want this."

"Liar."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." He opened the door of your apartment and walked out towards his car.

 "You think I don't know you're pushing me away on purpose?" You follow him out, not caring that you had different shoes on. "As much as you like to pretend you don't care, I know you--"

He interrupted you with an angry laugh, before turning to face you as he reached the sidewalk in front of his car. "You must be delusional if you think you have me all figured out. Don't tell me what I feel. You don't fucking know me."

His car's lights flashed as it unlocked and he opened the door, standing there and glaring at you like if you had spit in his face. Maybe, in his mind, you did.

"I don't need to know every little thing about you to know that you're lying to yourself because you're afraid."

"Afraid of what, huh? Afraid that I'll actually start to care about you as more than just a hole I use to get my rocks off, before ghosting you like all the others that came before? Yeah, you're not special, sweetheart," his hands trembled with fury.

You visibly flinched at his words.

You knew he was right. You were acquainted with him through mutual friends for quite some time before getting physically involved with him. You knew of his non-committal self-sabotaging tendencies. You knew, but it didn't make his words hurt any less.

A flash of guilt flickered in his icy eyes but it disappeared just as soon as it came thanks to the scorching heat of his emotions. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, trying to keep your voice steady as you spoke quietly with stinging eyes.

"Maybe I'm not special, but at least I can be honest with myself. Which is more than you can say about yourself."

He threw his hands up in the air, laughing. "Real cute coming from you. I'm not the one that's so desperate for attention I start writing sappy love stories in my head. Maybe someday you'll find someone who wants to deal with this shit, but it's not gonna be me."

He moved to get in his car, so you took a few steps forward which was enough to catch his attention and stop him from getting in.

"You were just as lonely and desperate for attention as me when we first met, Touya. You parade around all day acting like you don't care about anything, you can't feel anything, but if that was the case you wouldn't come back. You always come back home."

It was a slip up a few months ago. The two of you were out with some friends at a karaoke room and he said he wanted to go home. You never brought it up to him, but he could tell from the way you nearly choked on your food, that you heard him. Since then, every time he heard the word 'home' he'd think about that moment and regret letting himself drink enough to forget his common fucking sense.

And now you had acknowledged that it was a real moment that actually happened when he'd much rather shove the memory away and pretend it was something someone else said. Someone not him.

You stood a few feet in front of him, sniffling and staring down at the tires of his car that he had taught you how to change and fill with air without you asking him to.

"You're the most stubborn person I've ever met. You never do anything you don't want to do, but you kept coming back." You wiped your nose, ignoring the feeling of the hot tears spilling down your cheeks. "Even now, you're still standing here, talking with me instead of leaving. If you didn't care, you would have already left."

He froze as if you had pushed the pause button on his anger. He stared at you intensely. The only sounds breaking the silence was a dog barking at sirens in the distance and your sniffles.

He hated that you were right.

"So what?"

He got in his car, slamming the door in anger and started the engine.

He buckled his seat belt and turned in his seat to look through the rear window as he slowly backed out of the parking space.

You panicked, suddenly shoving your upper body inside his open window.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" He hit the breaks immediately, causing you to flail as you lost your balance and he swiftly grabbed your arms to keep you from slipping and busting your head on asphalt.

"W--We haven't finished talking..!" You gasped, feeling your heartbeat pounding in your chest. "If you leave now, you'll only feel worse later!"

He simply stared at you in disbelief. His mind was screaming at him to get the hell out of there. The only thing stopping him from flooring the gas pedal was the fact that your legs still dangled helplessly outside of the car as you struggled to get inside.

You looked ridiculously stupid as you clung to the window with a tear streaked face. You also seemed so determined…

"Get out of my car," he snapped. "Right now."

He released a hand from you and moved it towards the handle of the door, but you caught his wrist with your hands.

"No," you said as firmly as your grip on his wrist.

His eyes watched as you continued to struggle to balance your body on the door comfortably. He had no idea what your endgame was here.

"You're fucking crazy."

"I love you, Touya," you gasped out. "I'm in love with you and I know you're afraid. I know you've been hurt before. I know you hate everything that's happening right now, but I can't let you leave like this." You tried wiping your eye by rubbing it against your shoulder, before looking back at him.

"I won't force you to stay with me and I won't force you to share things you don't want to share, but I also won't let you run away without us properly talking things through. If we're gonna break up then I don't want to let it end with that as one of our regrets."

He hated that you weren't giving up on him so easily.

Touya stared at you as you spoke. You were so calm and reasonable in spite of the ridiculous position you were in. There was no anger or irritation in your voice, just sincerity and...

He let out a deep breath in an attempt to stay calm.

"That's very big of you," he said defensively. He was always so defensive. "Trust me, it's better this way."

Your eyes studied his face before you decide to take the plunge and vocalize the thoughts that had been swimming around in your head recently. "Is it better or is it just the easiest way to avoid your feelings of inadequacy and fear of rejection?"

You watched as his eyes widened a minuscule amount that likely would've gone unnoticed if you hadn't known him for so long. You could feel the flames of his rage from the way his face contorted, his mouth opening to set you ablaze.

Your hands slipped down from his wrist to hold his hand gently in yours, your thumbs resting on the back of his hand.

Your grip was loose. He could easily pulled himself free if he wanted to.

But he didn't.

And that's all you needed.

"I've seen you be blunt beyond the point of just being rude to others and to yourself. You have standards that make it easy for you to look down on those who don't meet them yet even the ones that do fit them get pushed away. You easily say whatever's on your mind, unless what's on your mind risks leaving you vulnerable."

Your thumbs delicately drew circles into the dark marks on the back of his hand that were uniquely his. A sad smile marred your face as you continued to speak.

"I'm always watching you, always listening." Your eyes looked up into his, persevering through his gaze that scorched anything he deemed a threat. "You'd rather be alone than feel alone."

He was speechless as he watched you speak. You read him like an open book. A book he routinely burned whenever someone poked and prodded in a pathetic attempt to get closer to him. How had he let his fire get extinguished so easily? How did it not burn you like it did everyone else?

Like it burned him.

Even he was unable to escape his own flames unscathed.

The fantasy that played in his mind's eye was one where you patiently stood before him as the smoke cleared. His eyes stung and his breathing hitched at the thought.

He sighed deeply, looking more tired than you'd ever seen him before.

"I was serious," his words and tone contrasting with the heavy look he carried on his face. "You're wasting your time if you expect me to tell me what you wanna hear."

You shook your head, "I'm not asking you to say it back. I don't need words when your actions mean more to me." I bring his knuckles to my lips, pressing a soft kiss before looking into his eyes, "Besides, if it's time you're worried about, I wouldn't mind wasting it together."

His entire body reflexively ached to leave at the display of vulnerability, yet he couldn't tear his eyes away from you.

Words escaped him as he stared back into your eyes with a confusing mix of fear and hope swirling in his icy blues.

He swallowed hard and finally spoke, "So, all this time," he started as he gathered his bearings, "you've been watching me like some kind of weirdo?"

"Of course," you laughed softly. The movement set a jolt of pain to your abdomen that reminded you of your current position. "Can we go back inside and talk? My stomach hurts from hanging out in your car like this..."

You hissed as you tried to remove yourself from the car. It was definitely gonna leave a mark. He waited until you moved back to the sidewalk before he parked and got out.

"I didn't tell you to jump through the window like a maniac. Seriously, what's wrong with you?"

"Desperate times call for--"

"Dumb ass fucking measures?"

"Yes, precisely. Glad we're on the same page."

He rolled his eyes as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, walking back to the apartment. "Masochist."

"Sadist."

"You know the door was unlocked, right? I was gonna show you 'til you started manhandling me."

"Never let them know your next move."

"So, just dangle like an idiot and hope you don't get run over?"

"I'll admit I'm not good under pressure."

He snorted as you opened the door. He just realized you had chased him out in different shoes. Desperate times, indeed.

"Anyways," you continued as you shut the door behind you and removed your shoes, "You liked it. Thought it was super cool and hot when I was flailing around like an idiot."

"Yeah," he said genuinely, catching you off guard and nearly causing you to trip over the entryway step, but you caught yourself against his arm.

You looked up at him with hopeful eyes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he repeated sincerely, his eyes staying on yours. "I did."

You swallowed, feeling your eyes prickle with tears as your mouth gaped at him.

He pinched your cheek.

"C'mon," he said as he walked away from you and further into your home to take a seat on the couch. "Let's do this talking thing. We can watch a movie after or whatever..."

You couldn't see his face as he walked away but you could hear his uncharacteristically breathy inflection and stiff tone when he spoke. Was he feeling nervous? Shy..?

The fact that he was the one trying to get the conversation started rather than avoiding it made your chest bloom with warmth. You had expected him to come up with other things to do first in order to put off the awkward and uncomfortable feelings for a bit longer.

You hopped over to him with a blindingly bright grin, sitting near him on the couch to give him some space for this conversation. However, he pulled your body closer to his so that your sides were pressed up against each other. He wrapped an arm around you while you leaned against his chest.

"So..." he started and you could hear something akin to timidity in his tone so you hugged him, letting your hands affectionately stroke his sides. "I'm shit at feelings."

You wanted to laugh at his blunt word choice but didn't want to come off as mocking and discourage him from speaking. "You are not shit at feelings. You seem to feel things quite strongly. We just need to work on helping you feel more comfortable with letting them out in a healthy way, rather than boxing them up and defaulting to avoidance."

"So, I'm shit at feelings."

"If you say that one more time I am going to bite you."

"I'm shit at-- what the fuck!"

"You were warned."

"My fucking tit--"

"Not my fault it's so chewy."

"I'm shit at-- don't you bite me you fucking animal. Hear me out." He had pinched your cheek again to stop your open mouth from it's impending attack. "I'm shit at this. I know. Don't… laugh at me."

Your eyes softened and you brought your hand up to cup the one he had squeezing your cheek. He released his hold on your skin but you kept it held as you let it slide down to your lap.

"It might feel a bit awkward for you but I promise I won't think less of you for sharing your feelings. I appreciate that you've been trying."

"'Been trying?' I've done jack shit."

"No, you have done 'shit'." You reassured him as your fingers drew circles into the skin of his hand. "You came inside--"

"I always come inside," he smirked.

You bit him again.

"What? No complaint for me this time, Touya?"

"I deserved it."

"Masochist."

"Sadist."

Your lips pursed for a moment as you tried to remember where you were.

"Ah, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," you glared at him playfully, "You've already shown me that you're trying. You came back inside, initiated our talking time, and you're participating, too. I know emotional stuff feels hard, but I'm really, really proud of you."

He let out a 'tch' in jest, before leaning down to whisper into the side of your head. "In case you forgot, I also listened to you while you tried playing leap frog on my car."

"Very true, but I didn't forget. I didn't want to include it since I was practically holding you hostage at the time."

"Hostage?" He laughed haughtily, "If I really wanted to leave you I would've ran you over."

"Why is that strangely sweet..."

"'Cause you're a damn masochist. Get help."

"This, coming from the sadist..." The room was quiet as I rubbed his chest lightly with one hand. "I was really scared you were going to leave earlier, Touya. Like, for good."

He clenched his jaw but didn't say anything, opting to listen since he knew she probably had more to say on the matter. And she did.

"I was afraid that I scared you off by talking about-- about whatever menial domestic thing it was we were talking about before. I can't even remember what it was." You clutched his shirt without thinking as you struggled to remember what could've been the catalyst to losing the person you loved.

"Toilet paper," he stated after a pause. "You read about some sale at the store and were talking about how we should go before the weekend so we could stock up. Then you mentioned wanting to buy me strawberry ice cream."

Silence.

"It all sounded so permanent, so easy to you." You could feel his body tense as he struggled to force himself to speak. "Seeing a future where we go grocery shopping for toilet paper and you buying me something. Something that'll sit in the freezer waiting for me even when I'm not around. Something just for me." His last words were barely a whisper.

Your mouth felt dry, it made sense. He had a hard time staying in one place for too long if it felt like he was being smothered or expected to do things he didn't want to do. Your apartment was no exception, even if he clearly spent more time here than any other place.

"Yeah, you're not special, sweetheart."

You felt a cold ache in your chest at the thought of his angry words from earlier.

You told yourself they were just that, angry words. If they were true, would he have bothered to come back at all? No. You knew Touya was good at lying and even better at emotional warfare. It's how he protected himself. He hadn't done it to you since before the two of you were friends, back when you were just another random person trying too hard to get to know him. Today was the first time in years he had said something that caused you to feel bad about yourself.

You would need to talk about it with him later. Right now you wanted to hear him out, so you shove the memory away for now. You can worry about it later.

As painful as it was to hear him speak of his troubles with having a place to call home, you were grateful to him for really trying. Really, it was incredible just how far he's come already. You always knew he was a fast learner if he wanted to be and this meant so much to you. He had never let himself get this vulnerable with you before.

You wanted to tell him something in response but why did it have to be now, of all times, that you couldn't find the words to speak?

You forced yourself to swallow and nodded at him in encouragement. You didn't want to cry and risk him getting cold feet about the feelings thing. You didn't want him to think this was a mistake and that you couldn't handle the truth, because you could, you just felt deeply for the inner conflicts that took place inside of his head. His fears, his happiness, his efforts... it all meant the world to you and it was really getting to you.

You quietly cleared your throat and with a hoarse voice said, "I can see how that would have caused you to react the w-way that you did."

You mentally cursed yourself for the way your voice broke pathetically mid-sentence. "Sorry about that." And you were. You knew he got flighty over things like that but in the moment I just wasn't thinking.

"Hey, don't wimp out on me now." He pinched at your cheek again. "If I'm gonna bare my damn soul or whatever the hell, you sure as shit better not hold out on me. If you gotta get weepy, then get weepy. I'll save the laughing for later."

Your lips trembled at his words and you can feel your face crumple as you bury it into his chest and wept.

"I was so scared I lost you, Touya."

He stared down at you, committing the sight to memory.

His carelessness did this.

He pulled you in closer to him and placed his cheek on the crown of your head. A little while later you calmed down, sniffling and apologizing for accidentally turning his shirt into a tissue.

"Sorry, this is really embarrassing," you sniffled out with a stuffy nose.

He took in the sight of your puffy eyes and runny nose, before looking away. "S'whatever. I know you, too, you know. That thing you said earlier? About you always watching and listening? I do the same shit with you. If being a crybaby helps, then do it unless you wanna be shit at feelings, too."

Sniffle. "We're both not the best at handling our own feelings, huh..."

"An understatement, in my case."

"It's good that you're acknowledging the areas where you could use some improvement." You say as you reach up to cup his cheek and kissed the corner of his lip. "You're doing so well, Touya."

The way your thumb gently rubbed the pale skin of his cheek while you looked at him with honey in your eyes made his chest ache.

"You--" he swallowed as he held your gaze, "think so?"

You nodded and leaned in to press another kiss on his lips. "I know so."

He felt that familiar urge to run away when shit got too personal, but he yearned for more of the pure warmth you offered to his cold, sorry existence.

"I can't promise to always be better. I'll fuck up. I know it. Just don't give-- don't give up on me."

Sharing feelings was embarrassing, painfully so. At least, that's what he told himself to explain the lump in his throat when he struggled to say the words out loud. His hand moved to your thigh and squeezed it, "I'm stubborn but I don't want to fuck this up. When I fuck up, I'll need time to get my head out of my ass."

You felt like crying again seeing how desperately he tried to let you know he wasn't going to always be good at the communication, but he wanted to be and he was trying.

"I'll sit in the freezer waiting for you."

"I-- what? The hell?"

You laugh softly at his dumbfounded expression. "I'll be the ice cream sitting in the freezer waiting for you. So, don't worry about having to rush the process. Do your best. I believe in you, Touya."

He stared at your face for a moment.

"You have low iron. The freezer would kill you."

"I'll be fine 'cause you're always warm."

He once again felt that familiar ache in his chest that he usually got around you. "Wait too long and you'll get freezer burn."

"Are you saying a little freezer burn would keep you from eating your favourite ice cream?" You paused when you noticed his amused expression. "Okay, I walked myself into that one."

"Yeah," the corner of his lip twitched as his eyes darkened. "You did."

"Hey, I know that look. We need to finish talking first-- T-Touya!"

He grabbed your legs, flipping you on your back against the couch with him crawling over you.

"Don't you wanna reward me for doing well so far?" He asked in a low voice. You whimpered at the sight of his heavily lidded eyes looking down at you, amused with your flustered face.

"W-Well, positive reinforcement is a good way of encouraging good behavior, so yes we can, but you have to swear we will talk about this right after-"

He expertly rolled his hips against you, making you gasp. "I'm feeling pretty encouraged right now. You can feel it too, I bet."

You definitely felt it.

He kissed your lips as he removed your bottoms, pushing the backs of your knees as far against as he knew you could comfortably take, exposing the entirety of you in your underwear.

"I swear," he licked a slow stripe against the fabric before pushing it to the side and staring hungrily at your flesh, "on my god damn dick, we'll talk right after I make you come at least four times."

"F-Four?" You could feel his thumb teasing you as he swiped up and down your flesh.

"Five now," his lips wrapped around your sweet spot. He sucked while rubbing his tongue against it at the same time, making your body shudder.

He needed to make up for making you cry so much today.

Your hips bucked against his face, then his fingers.

"So fucking eager after all that talking, huh?" He gave a lopsided grin as he licked the taste of you left behind on his lips. "Yeah, we're definitely talking more often."

He soaked his fingers with the bottle of lube he liked leaving between the seat cushions for times like these. You felt one of his slick fingers tease your tight hole.

"Tell me who fucks you better than me."

"N-No one!"

"Weak shit. Say it again."

"You're the only one who fucks me t-this well!"

He slowly pressed his finger in, the stretch making you sing. He took his time prepping you before inserting another finger and moving in and out of you. He lapped you into whines, working his hand at the pace he knew drove you wild. You cried out praises for him, which he liked almost as much as he liked fucking you to tears.

"And who does this hole belong to? Who owns the rest of this pretty body?"

"Y-You do, it's yours, Touya! It's all yours for you to use as you please!"

You felt your legs trembling as he kept his hands busy with fucking you. The coil inside of you tightening as he vigorously pumped and sucked.

"T-Touya..!" You voice broke as you wailed.

He smirked, feeling satisfied at how fervently your hips bucked against him. You were a needy mess and he hadn't even stretched you with his fat cock yet.

Soon.

"It's mine. You're all fucking mine." His head dived back in and you felt yourself on the precipice of-

"Yeah, you're not special sweetheart."

You shook your head and looked down at him as he looked up at you. He sucked you hard, making your back arch. You were so close.

You stared through half lidded eyes, throat already sore from the sounds he'd easily pulled from you. You tried to focus on the view of him pleasuring you with expertise. Your was mouth open as you shut your eyes and leaned your head back against the couch. You were so close.

"Afraid of what, huh? Afraid that I'll actually start to care about you as more than just a hole I use to get my rocks off, before ghosting you like all the others that came before you?"

You grit your teeth.

Now was not the time for this.

Your eyes shut. You forced the memory away from the forefront of your mind. It doesn't matter right now, you'll tell him how you feel about it later.

Now wasn't the time.

Later.

Later.

...

"Fuck!!" You felt Touya pull his body away from you. "Did I not hear you say the safeword!?"

You opened your eyes and Touya's blurry face had moved from in between your legs to kneeling on the floor beside where you laid on the couch. You blinked your eyes and wiped them with your hands. Oh.

You were crying again.

The realization brought more tears and you looked over at Touya who stared down at you fearfully.

"Maybe someday you'll find someone who wants to deal with this shit, but it's not gonna be me."

"Hey, what--" his voice cracked.

Your body shook as you sobbed into your hands.

A sinking feeling had found it's place in his stomach. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't-- I didn't hear you-"

"T-That's not it." Your voice muffled by your hands and your stuffed nose as you continued to sob. "The sex was consensual the w-whole time."

He looked down at you confused. Relieved that he hadn't hurt you in that way, but stressed since he didn't know what happened to you. His chest burned with anxiety and it made him feel restless. He grabbed your throw blanket and pulled it over you, which you used to hide your sloppy face as you tried to calm yourself down.

"Touya," you cried quietly and he stared down at you frozen with fear.

It was him.

"Tell me what I did." He knew he'd fuck up. He just didn't think it'd be this soon.

You didn't want to hurt him. You wanted to protect him but how could you protect him from the very words he spat at you in a desperate rage? Not speaking up about your own feelings fully and pushing them aside for someone else's sake is how you got here in the first place.

You needed to practice what you preached.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about what you said to me."

The parking lot. He already knew. He hated himself when he said those things and he hated himself now.

It was only a matter of time until he'd ruin things here.

You saw him grab his phone from the floor before standing up and walking across the living room. It must have fallen during your activities.

"I'll text Toga to come by. I'll stay until then."

"Don't go."

"I shouldn't be here."

"Because you hurt my feelings?"

"Yes!" He snapped. "This isn't masochism, it's straight up fucking delusional if you can't see the problem with me staying."

"You hurt my feelings," you sniffled. "It's going hurt whether or not you leave. Stay and talk with me about it."

"This talking shit clearly isn't working. One second you're telling me I fuck you the best then suddenly you're crying in the next. I already ruined whatever we could've had before it even started. We already know how this ends, so don't waste your time."

"If you leave then we will know how this ends." You sat up on the couch, clutching the soft blanket like a lifeline. Your voice was firm, but not enough to cover your soft determination. "You're hurt and so am I. So, sit with me instead of running away. Leaving things the way they are now is the sure-fire way to ruin this."

His jaw tightened as he stayed where he was.

"We talked a little bit earlier, but the issue just now wasn't your fault. It was mine-"

"You're not the one who said all that nasty shit to the person you-" He turned away and glared holes into an innocent plant. "It's over. We're not even fucking dating and it's over." He ran a hand through his hair and laughed.

"You did say horrible things, but I kept brushing off my feelings. We talked a bit earlier, but I still had feelings left unsaid." You stood up, the sound of your feet padding against the floor behind him made him stiffen. You stood in front of him, with your arms loosely crossed on your chest. "How are you supposed to know that stuff was still bothering me? It's not like you can read my mind."

"Don't be fucking dense."

"I seem to recall us wanting to work things out. You told me not to give up on you, remember?"

"Before I realized I traumatized you by saying a bunch of shit!"

"You didn't traumatize me, you hurt my feelings. There's a difference."

"You know the reason you had 'feelings left unsaid' is 'cause I basically mounted you before you could finish saying them, right?"

"No, that's not true and don't demonize yourself like that." You reached for his hand that was balled into a fist at his side, but he pulled it away.

He wasn't worthy of your compassion.

You frowned but didn't let it deter you. "I said it was okay --and before you say anything-- I wasn't coerced into it, either."

His eye twitched at her already knowing what he was going to say before he said it.

"You tease and mock, but you've shown me time and time again that you respect me and my body. You waited until I gave consent and I know that if I didn't give it, you would've let it go and let me talk about my feelings instead. You didn't take advantage of me. I disrespected myself by not prioritizing my own feelings. That's what the main issue was here."

"You said you couldn't stop thinking about what I said. It's my fault, they were my shitty fucking words."

"I'm not trying to say your words weren't a part of it, they definitely were, but I know you were just... saying what you could to put distance in between us."

He sneered, "Is that what you're telling yourself? Doesn't matter why I said it. Intentional or not, lies or not: it still fucking hurt you." His lips curled bitterly as remorse stained the cool blue of his eyes. "It'll be what you think of when you see me from now on."

You took a small step towards him, careful not to invade his personal space but enough to momentarily satisfy your need for physical closeness. Your need for the comfortable heat he offered to you as you both stood together in silence.

"I won't lie..." You started.

He knew that you never lied to him. Your stupidly sincere approach to interactions with him were probably what got him wrapped around your finger in the first place.

He did wonder if you ever lied to yourself about him, though. It'd explain why you let him stick around even while knowing he was a jackass.

He also recognized there wasn't any actual weight to that way of thinking. If anything, the times where your feelings felt so real outweighed those paranoid thoughts of his. Sometimes he'd catch you looking at him. The sweet honey dripping from your eyes at him doing fuck all felt so raw that he'd panic and have to leave for a while.

Whenever you smiled at him, even the soft little ones, you beamed bright enough to burn him to cinders if he let it. Lately, he had found himself simmering under your heat longer and longer, letting himself get singed by you.

Seeing you fidget with the hem of your top snapped him out of his thoughts. You were still in your underwear and it reminded him that he'd burned you. Not with the heat of patience and kindness that you regularly thawed him with, but with flames full of his own agonizingly self-sabotaging wrath.

"I won't lie," you repeated after taking a couple seconds to gather your thoughts. "I'll probably always think about what you said."

He already knew it yet it still made him hate himself more.

"The same way you'll probably always think about it, too."

You sweet, merciful, stupid fucking angel.

"Stop."

"No. You need to hear this."

"Just fucking stop."

"Don't interrupt me, Touya."

He glared at you in irritation as he clenched and unclenched his hands in an attempt to keep himself grounded. Mentally and literally. If he ran away now, you wouldn't be able to share your thoughts. He owed you that and so much more.

"It's something that effected the both of us and it'll change the way we are, but we don't have to let it change us in a bad way. We can use our hurt to help us grow." You said while looking at him with eyes full of hope. "We won't forget it happened and we shouldn't."

"We-- you--," he stammered. He could see the patience in your face and logic, feel the tender touch of your words. He was concurrently immolated by your steadfast mercy and by his venomous wrath. "We need to end this before you get hurt again."

"'Before I get hurt again'? I am going to get hurt again. By you, myself, or some other thing. It's what happens as we live and grow. The difference is learning from it. This is our 'before', and if you let us, we can work on moving on towards our 'after'."

"You know how ridiculously optimistic that sounds, right? Stupidly sappy, too. You really think it's as simple as that?"

"Can I hold your hand?"

He blinked in confusion at the randomness of the question but gave a small nod. You took ahold of it with both of your own.

"We both know it won't be simple. We both have baggage and hurt we'd need to address if we want to be something. It's going to be really hard, but if you stay I know that we'll both put in the work to reach our 'after' and every 'after' after that."

He stayed silent as he took in her words. You really saw--

"--Lots of 'after's, huh?" He quietly spoke as he tried to drown out his nerves with a teasing tone.

He looked at you with hopeful eyes that brought a small smile to your face.

"Lots of 'after's. I am your ice cream sitting in the freezer, remember?"

He'd scoff if he hadn't just gotten the wind knocked from his lungs.

You raise his hand to your lips before pressing a little kiss on the scars on the back of his hand before tugging it gently so he'd follow you to sit back down on the couch.

"I'm not eating freezer burnt ice cream."

"Hey! That's so mean…" you pouted. "And wasteful. You're way too picky of an eater, no wonder you're always grumpy."

"I'm fucking with you."

"Oh, I know. I'm fucking with you, too."

"Sadist..." He affectionately played with the shell of your ear while resting his cheek on your head. The gesture filled her with elation as they sat in comfortable silence.

"Look, I'm..." he started, struggling with his words.

"I know."

"I shouldn't-- I shouldn't have said those things earlier."

"I know."

"You didn't deserve it," his voice was softer.

"I know," you wrapped your arms around his firm torso, squeezing a little tighter.

"You're clingy. What're you thinking? Don't skimp out on me again, I wanna hear all the ugly shit, too." He lightly pinched at your cheek, "This shit ain't gonna work if it's one-sided. Start talking."

You smiled as he pressed his lips to your forehead.

"Okay, Touya."

[thewidowsledger]

The Call

Chapter 5: Rushman

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Summary: You were supposed to take her out—the infamous Black Widow—Natasha Romanoff. The S.H.I.E.L.D. has been keeping an eye on her for a while now and for some reason, another high-ranking agent as you was sent to get the mission done. But then, he made a different call leading the mission to be here in front of you, soon to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

Pairings: Ex-Russian Agent Natasha Romanoff x Senior S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Female Reader

Tags | Warnings: slow burn (it’s happening y’all), violence, kidnapping, torture, explicit language, hurt/comfort, 1v4, guard dog and angry angry angry Natty (strong arms Natty🥵 she is back breaking and cracking bones, kicking teeths for a living), vulnerable reader, Madisynn and Yelena's ship is sailing, Fury being a detective and keen observer dad

Author's Note: Missing my wife so here I am…writing while she's out (I hate work😡)

Navigation | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

⧗

"What you think, Rushman?"

"Ask about the arms deal happening at the end of the week."

Natasha listened quietly to the instructions being relayed to her via her earpiece, her face a stoic mask. She evaluated the situation, her sharp mind calculating the security measures in place.

"Not a bad place," she remarked, her tone low and detached. "But do you guys really have the stuff necessary to secure all this square footage?"

She got a couple of looks and tried to remain calm; using 'secure' like that would definitely get her suspected of being an undercover Agent.

Realizing the slip-up in her choice of words, Natasha quickly adapted her demeanor, keeping her arms folded and tight to her sides, the picture of nonchalance. Despite her slight blunder, she maintained her composure, "I know a guy with both hands under the table," she kept her arms folded and tight to her sides. She didn't manage to sneak anything in with her weapons wise. Her fists were enough to hold their own in a battle.

One of the guides brushed off her question, stating, "Don't worry about it." He reassured her, mentioning that more support was on its way.

As they arrived in the basement control room, Natasha observed the smashed window with a furrowed brow. Her instincts kicked in, and she honed in on the details of the scene, taking note of it.

"Did we catch something?"

"You could say that." His grin gave Natasha a bad feeling.

They turned on the singular light bulb that lit the decrepit little space a small figure tied to the chair, dread welled up in Natasha. The figure tried to remain still in the chair, but the blood trickling from their limbs betrayed the restraints' unforgiving tightness.

As Natasha tried to maintain her composure, the sight of the restrained figure hit her like a wave of dread. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't ignore the familiar details—the slender frame, the slope of the shoulders, even the glimpse of the sharp collar bone protruding from the button-up shirt. The stockings were torn, probably from getting dragged to and fro. Shoes were probably the first thing taken from them.

A woman beside the restrained body was wearing her jacket, the same jacket she gave you last night.

Natasha's heart stopped.

She knew it was you before they pulled the burlap off your head.

As they pulled the burlap sack off your head, Natasha's heart sunk deeper, the sight confirming her fears. Before she could even fully register what was happening, a ruthless blow landed across your face, forcefully snapping your head to one side with a sickening crunch. The chair screeched against the concrete surface beneath as it shifted from the force of the punch.

The girl that was standing beside you came up to Natasha and touched her biceps as she circled her.

Natasha steeled her expression, knowing that she couldn't afford any display of emotion. She felt their eyes on her, watching for any crack they could exploit, checking to see if they had found the weakness they thought. If they had found their mole.

"Where'd you find her?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," the worker bees around her snickered as they watched the show. She ran her hands over Natasha's muscled arms, circled her like a predator, a smug smile playing on her lips.

Natasha clenched her fists tightly under her armpits, her nails digging into her skin with increasing pressure, leaving behind angry crescent indents. The intensity of her grip grew, mirroring the effort she exerted to maintain her composure, even as her jaw worked in a white-knuckled attempt to keep her teeth from clenching too obviously. She forced herself to remain still, the muscles in her neck straining with the effort, despite the overwhelming fear and rage that was making her vision blur.

You didn't utter a word as they laid into you, taking every slap and punch with little more than a grunt or a burst of air. You kept your eyes shut as they hauled your head up by your hair, still pulled back into a ponytail.

The realization hit Natasha that you hadn't been taken from the safety of your home. You were still dressed in the clothes from the party last night, leaving her feeling a wave of nausea as she wondered how long you had been imprisoned in this cold, dimly lit room.

Guilt gnawed at her, regret filling her like a lead weight in her chest. She should've walked you back to the party, or booked you a cab, even if you had protested, insisted that you could manage on your own.

The man gloating about finding you tightened his grip on your hair, forcefully turning your face towards him and inhaling against your cheek. His words rang in Natasha's ears, a reminder of your vulnerability. "We got a tip that there was a real pretty little thing hanging around," he said, a twisted sadistic pleasure in his tone that made Natasha's skin crawl.

"Don't move a muscle, Agent. Stay on target," the warning echoed in her earpiece, and her blood ran cold as she heard the commanding order to remain still.

Fury assigned Natasha to Coulson's division for a while after her mission on Stark. How far were they planning on letting this go? How long had they been listening to you get hurt? Do they even know that the daughter of the director is getting hurt?

The eyes in the room were still fixed on Natasha, testing her limits, pushing her for a crack in her facade. She felt the weight of their gaze. "Y'know, someone let us know that she was with SHIELD." It was clear that they were trying to push her, to see if they could expose her.

Of course someone had tipped them off. How else would they have been able to get the drop on the Furious daughter?

"Y'know what they say," another one slapped her on the shoulder before strolling into the semi-connected interrogation room. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?"

Natasha wiggled her fingers against her palm, feeling the blood he'd drawn. She felt herself reaching her breaking point, your subtle movement caught her eye, and she glanced in your direction. You pried your least swollen eye open and looked at her, managing just a little twitch of your lips. No one else would be able to recognise it as a smile—they'd sooner assume it was a flinch.

But Natasha could always tell.

You shut your eyes again as one of the men grabbed your neck, forcing you to expose the length of it, their touch sending chills down your spine. "She is a pretty thing, huh?" the man remarked, turning back to Natasha, his finger trailing along the exposed skin.

"Agent, do not move. I repeat: stand down."

Natasha watched the hand trail down your neck to your collarbone, just barely peeking out from your tight black dress. He pulled out a knife, cutting off one the red dress.

The two in the room grinned at each other as the knife trailed exposing just the hint of a white bra with floral lace. "Should we see how pretty?"

The man's eyes glinted with malicious intent as he offered Natasha the knife, a cruel smile playing at his lips. "Rushman? Would you like to do...the honors?"

Natasha hesitated, but she knew what the risks were. So after contemplating, she took the knife handle. She slowly walked towards you, her eyes flickered over your battered face, taking in the bruises, the split lip, the swollen eyes.

The impatient shouts from behind her only fueled her frustration and anger.

"Fuck her already!"

You could see the struggle in her eyes, the internal battle she was fighting. You wanted to reassure her, to let her know it is okay, but your voice was hoarse from the abuse you'd endured—and besides it would blow up her cover.

She caressed your cheek and you leaned on her touch, a tear fell down slightly nodding at her—silently telling her that it's going to be okay.

"Do it Rushman!"

"Fuck her! Like this!" A man shouted, mimicking aggressive gestures with his ring and middle finger. "Give us a fucking show!"

"I know how to give a good fuck, don't tell me how to fuck her." Natasha bit out. She knows she's damned after what she just said besides Coulson's team hearing her words.

Hearing her say that she would give the daughter of the director a good fuck.

You, her boss, hearing her say that she would fuck you.

Natasha knelt in front of you, and mouthed I'm sorry, she caressed your face one last time. "Can you close your eyes for me?" she whispered, "Please, detka."

"Don't open them unless I told you to."

Because she never wanted you to see that side she's about to unleash. It is a version of her that she had buried in the past after she was given a new life, a new chance—a fresh start. The side of her that you are very aware of because it was the side of her that you studied half of your life. The side of her that you hated.

Your mission.

She doesn't want you to see it, especially not now that she is falling in love with you.

But your life is at risk and so is the beast within her.

As soon as you shut your eyes, she turned and grabbed the first man by his head and, with a single, powerful motion, slammed his face down onto the wooden table. The force of the impact shattered the table's surface, sending splinters flying.

The girl reached into the back of her jeans, "Fuckin' mole—!"

Natasha spun on her heel, her shoulder driving into her like a human battering ram and before she could hit the ground, Natasha grabbed a handful of her greasy hair and yanked her head down, ramming her knee into her face with bone-shattering force. The sound of crunching teeth filled the room as she slumped unconscious to the floor, blood pouring from her ruined mouth.

"That is my fucking jacket." She spat out as she aggressively removed the jacket from the girl.

No one can deny that Natasha is by far the strongest on SHIELD—probably one of the strongest agents in the field, if not the strongest.

She grabbed the creepy one by the hand, "This is how you fuck," she gritted before twisting it all the way around to pop it off the wrist. The creep screamed and howled in pain.

The sudden violence in the room had you flinching with each loud impact, your heart racing. Every crack of bone, every thud of a body hitting the ground, made you jump and tremble with fear. Wishing that it's not Natasha.

Only if you know that it was Natasha who was causing those sounds.

The one who had been doing the beating on you held up his hands, backing away from you on the chair, who was still eyes closed and was close to passing out.

"Agent! Stand down, this is a direct order!"

Natasha tore the earpiece and its connected mic out of her ear and let it fall to the ground before crushing it under her foot. She kept her eyes on the man with your blood on his knuckles.

"H-Hey, Rushman," the idiot was at least smart enough to try and barter his way to safety. "Look, we both know you're not gonna kill me—"

"Says who?"

The smaller of the two men shrank a little. Maybe his life wasn't as insured as he thought it was. "O-Okay!—okay, look, I'm sorry! I-I'm sorry. You want info?! I'll tell you—I'll tell you everything! Who tipped us off, e-everything!"

Natasha grasped the bastard by his shirt, slamming him up against the wall, black in the eyes. "You've got a lot of nerve bartering with me after what you did to her—"

"Nat."

The beater hit the floor like a sack of bricks.

Your eyes were still closed but you shook your head side to side. Now you're sure Natasha is safe, and is probably the one causing these idiots to cry since you heard her voice.

"Detka…" Natasha moved in front of you, lifting your chin as gently as she could. You'd have one hell of a black eye, and your naturally sharp cheekbones were split and swollen. "You can open your eyes now."

And you did.

"Backup better be on the fucking way," Natasha growled as she get you freed. Your body naturally folded in on itself in its injured and vulnerable state. Natasha hesitated as she pulled the jacket that the girl stole from you, she doesn't want you to wear that anymore so she shirked off her leather jacket, pulling it around you and zipper it up over your exposed chest. "Or those old fucks are next."

The beater was trying to crawl to safety and Natasha slammed her heel down on his back.

The beater threw up anything that was in his stomach. Natasha leaned down, yanking his head up by the hair, as he had done with you minutes ago. "You're gonna tell us everything."

He nodded.

"You are going to cooperate with every agent you see."

He nodded again, more vigorously.

Natasha dropped the man like a ragdoll, his body hitting the floor with a dull thud. She turned her attention to the other, who was struggling to his feet, his face pale and sweaty. "And you," she said coldly, stepping closer to him.

You didn't even blink as Natasha grabbed his shoulder, then his jaw, and twisted. You watched as the man's lifeless body fell to the ground. You looked up at Natasha, "I'm going to pretend I didn't see that."

Natasha said nothing. Now you had seen that side of her. This is the Black Widow you have been craving to catch, your mission, your past mission.

Natasha nudged the man's corpse out of the way with her foot, his body falling onto its side, picking you up and sitting down in the chair for herself with you in her arms.

The sounds of your fellow agents storming the building started at the top of the building and traveled through its open, gutted remains. They would be with them soon enough.

Natasha sat and waited. Her mind raced, considering the potential consequences of her disobedience, she would be lucky to be suspended and on probation. Much more likely, they would have internal affairs investigate her for her disobedience and fire her.

But with your safety on the line, you in her arms right now—she'd face them all willingly.

She would accept any punishment they gave her—gladly. She turned her head, pressing her lips to your temple in the slim window of being alone with you.

⧗

"Easy, widow," Yelena held up her hands and took a few steps closer, walking towards your bed and to the chair of your guard dog. "Just checking if you need anything."

"I'm fine."

"Come on, Nat." Yelena pleaded, she knew that Natasha would be grappling with the tragedy, and she had heard that no one could get near you with Natasha by your side. "She's okay, right?"

"She better be," she finally let out a sigh, uncrossing her arms and turning her head halfway away from you and towards Yelena. "It's the only reason I'm here and not hunting down those bastards."

"Natasha, they're being handled by SHIELD." Yelena reassured, calming her Natasha down.

"I am not pertaining about them." Natasha murmured but the blonde was quick to pick up the pieces.

"You know, if anyone were to hear you threaten Coulson's division like that it'd be your position," Yelena warned, to which Natasha didn't even offer a shrug of acknowledgement. Yelena looked at her determined unwillingness to rest if it left you unprotected. "Okay, just...yell if you need me, okay?—either of you?"

Natasha let out another heavy sigh, "thanks, Lena."

The door closed gently as Yelena left, leaving you sleeping peacefully with your guard dog.

Natasha sat by your side, her eyes never leaving you as she contemplated what just happened. You looked so peaceful, as if you two hadn't been together the night after you were kidnapped and brutalized.

She still feels guilty.

It was true; no one had managed to come near you. Natasha had been told that Maria will be handling her questioning, even though she saved you, the daughter of the director, she cannot be saved from the by laws of SHIELD.

Natasha leaned forward, pushing some hair away from your cheek. Her finger brushed the pale—and already bruising - skin there, and you leaned into her touch in your sleep. She smiled, undeniably melted by the subconscious trust you had in her. "Come on, boss. I need you to open those eyes for me."

As if you had heard her plea, your lashes fluttered, and then your eyes opened, revealing the stunning shade she adored. She greeted you softly, her voice gentle, her eyes locked with those beautiful eyes of yours. "Hey."

"Hey," she softly repeated, beaming at you though fighting back tears, her voice a bit thicker with emotions held in check. Her hand softly ran through your hair, the affection pouring forth freely despite the professional front she usually maintained around you. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been strapped to a chair and beat up."

Natasha huffed a slight laugh, but your weak attempt at a glare—despite your exhausted condition it brought a small smirk to her lips. "Now? You're making jokes now?" she replied, her voice affectionate, her smile growing when you tried to glare.

Your smile was heavy and hazy, fighting against the pull of anesthesia. But it was there, and it was real. "You seem like you need it, agent."

Her hand still glided gently through your hair, tracing over your temple and cheek, as if trying to feel the reality, to confirm you were real and not a ghost. There was a vulnerability in her eyes, a raw emotion barely contained, "I-we need you to be okay."

"Then I'm okay."

The moment stretched, as Natasha felt the warmth of your cheek against her palm, cherishing and committing it to memory. She knew this moment was fleeting, that this vulnerability would soon fade.

"Y/N—"

"Natasha," you pressed, and she sat again, pulling your hand into her. "I know you went against orders to come and rescue me in there."

"How is that the problem?!" She shook her head, running a hand through her hair. "And not that I was ordered to stand by and watch while—"

"Focus, Natalia," As you crooned her government name, Natasha felt herself refocusing. The soft tone and the use of her true name anchoring her firmly in the present. Your reassurance settled the turmoil in her chest, the quiet command and your words grounding her, bringing her back from the edge of her worry. "You saved me. You. That's all that matters."

She exhaled slowly, some weight lifted by your words. As she leaned forward, she found your hands, interlacing her fingers with yours, "What hurts?" She asked, assessing your pain.

You gave it a test, shifting faintly under the thin hospital blankets. "Everything?"

"They should have you on stronger meds," Natasha growled, her protective instincts flaring, ready to march into the hall and demand the staff provide stronger medication. She gripped your hand gently in hers, her worry and fury evident in the tense lines of her face.

"Mm," You held her hand, shaking your head in disagreement, despite your weakness. You fought to keep her with you by your side, refusing her protective instincts. "No, just...just leave it be."

"Y/N," she whispered, sounding positively agonized about it. "I don't want you to be in pain."

"I'm fine," was the first thing out of your mouth, only to realize that it was utter bullshit as far as Natasha was concerned. You corrected yourself, "just stay. Just...just...please?"

She all but collapsed, weak in the knees at the sight of your eyes pleading with her. She nodded, helpless to do much of anything else for you. She brought your hand up to her lips, bold move, "yeah—yeah, of course, Y/N. I...I'm right here."

You closed your eyes again, evening out your own breathing as well. "If they know I'm awake they'll have you dragged out of here to question us both."

"I can just be daddy's girl and it's done. I think they're forgetting I have that power and title."

Natasha huffed, a small sign of amusement at your joke, knowing full well that you don't and would never use your title as the director's daughter to sidestep consequences. You have earned your title in SHIELD with your own efforts, own sweat and tears.

"They're not coming anywhere near you so long as I'm here."

"Natasha."

"I mean it, Y/N," she reiterated. She gave your hand another squeeze, "they have no right coming to talk to you when they're the reason you're in here. They can wait until you're released, and that's if I'm feeling generous."

You peeled your eyes open again to smile at her. "If only I could have you as protection for every time I had to talk to those—"

You cut yourself off to yawn, failing to cover your mouth, Natasha fussed with your blankets, her tone gentle and commanding. "You should go back to sleep; get all the rest you can before the questioning begins," she whispered, hoping to spare you any unnecessary strain while knowing it was futile.

Your voice was soft, the medication making your muscles feel heavy as you asked, "Can't wait." Your hazy eyes found hers, searching for reassurance. "You'll be here right?"

She smiled at you, keeping you hand firmly in hers, "I'm not going anywhere."

Meanwhile, Yelena and Madisynn peered at the door, witnessing the tender exchange between you and Natasha. Their fist bumping, "Good?" Yelena smirked.

"Good." Madisynn confirmed.

The two women jumped slightly, freezing in surprise as they turned to see your father—the director of SHIELD standing behind them, holding a bouquet of flowers and your favorite egg pie.

"So my daughter and Romanoff..."

[cherubfae]

𝔯𝔲𝔫 𝔟𝔞𝔟𝔶 𝔯𝔲𝔫 || {𝔩𝔞𝔡𝔰}

Surely monsters of myths and folklore don't exist, do they...?

|| 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐅𝐀𝐄'𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ||

tags: nsfw, smut, fem!reader, implied!plus sized reader (as a treat), Wanderer!Sylus, siren!Rafayel, werewolf!Zayne, kitsune!Xavier, predator/prey dynamics, breeding, ruts, monster fucking, porn with some plot, almost drowning (raf's)

a/n: this got away from me a little bit. I've been writing longer fics pretty much non-stop over these last two days and I'm in need of a little break once Halloween is over. I decided to try to take on too much with not much time before Halloween. it may not be the most cohesive, but I hope you can enjoy it! last fic is tomorrow!

Zayne

No, no, no, no. This wasn't right. This wasn't... He was supposed to be helping people. Not... Hazel-green eyes stared down at the lupine reflection, his face, along the river's surface; his maw dripping with warm, crimson blood. He let out a shuddering, mournful scream. But in this form, it echoed as a fierce howl. All he could do was run and run and run.

Zayne ran as fast as he could, massive paws thundering through the soft dirt. Something sweet and inviting calls to his hypersensitive nose, making him still and sniff again. Instantly, he takes off in the direction of the scent, quietly approaching a river. His eyes narrowed, like a vicious beast glinting in the shadows, as he neared your barely covered form as you bathed. The sight of you, his mate, was enough to calm his inner turmoil. He became weightless, his eyes fluttering as he lays his sight on you. His everything.

"It's dangerous to be out here in such a state and alone no less." He feels a slight sadistic satisfaction at your jolt, relaxing when you realize its him. His eyes follow the movement of your breasts, raking over the swell of them and how your nipples poke through the gaps of your fingers. "A beast might try to come stake his claim over you..." Zayne shifted back, his human form naked, skin stretched taught over fine muscle. His cock, heavy and long, throbbed between two powerful legs. "Why do you look at me so lovingly when you know what I have become?"

"Because it is still you, Zayne. The goodness in your heart. You are not the wolf that takes over." You stand, removing your shift and baring yourself to him once more. "No matter what form you take, I will love you always."

Zayne loosed a shuddering breath and he's hovering over you in an instant. There would be time to think of the consequences to his actions later. For now, while he still remained free, he needed you. He needed you more than the sun loves the moon. His mouth hot against your lips, swiftly picking you up and raking his hands possessively down your backside; gripping handfuls of your supple rear in his large palms.

"How lucky of a creature I am to have such a devoted and loyal mate." Zayne murmurs, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear. "I must worship you properly, hmm?"

Laying you down on the soft grass, Zayne enters you slowly. His cock, long and thick, stretches you out in the best of ways, hitting spots you could never reach with your fingers. Every inch of him is warm and throbbing, his hips rutting into you, his teeth gently nipping along your throat. "If you keep moaning so loudly, darling, others are gonna try to come and take you from me." Zayne silences you with a kiss, sliding his fingers down to caress your nub. "Better keep quiet then, hmm? Unless you want the whole of Linkon to know you're being bred by a werewolf?"

Zayne snarls as his hips pound at your ass, reaching an arm under you to pin you to him, your legs dangling off the ground slightly. "That's it, love... Take everything I'm giving you. Take it all..."

Rafayel

The water is cold, and your body is heavy. Your legs that had been rapidly kicking and treading water, slowed as your muscles burned with overexertion. The salty water made it hard to see. You doubted your crew mates cared you went overboard, left to be food for the sirens and whatever else lingered in the dark waters. Faintly, you heard the hauntingly beautiful singing; the song felt sad. The same that had accidentally sent you over, eager to hear it better you neared too close to the edge of the ship.

You were so tired; you weren't sure if you had it in you anymore. As you drift like a weightless cipher, your mind fading to the back, barely recognizing two strong, warm arms tugging you through the stormy, twisting tidal waves.

"Are you with me?" Fingers snap near your ear as you come to. Blinking at the low light, you faintly make out the blurred shape of a topless male hovering over you. "You were bleeding. I've staunched the wound. I thought humans were supposed to be at the top of the food chain. Why were you swimming during the start of a tsunami?"

Tsunami?! Your head snapped up, instincts kicking in to take shelter. Then you realized. You were already under the water. You were breathing under the water. Turning to look at your savior, it was then you realized the blue and magenta scales of a long tail laying lazily behind him. He scoffs, rolling his eyes with annoyance.

"Great. Just great. A human girl ruining my brooding time. Better be grateful I saved you. I won't do that for just anyone." The purple-haired male crossed his arms over his chest. He had interesting markings and jewels and scales marking his upper body and his face. "My name is Rafayel. Are you done staring or are you so stunned by my beauty? You look like a guppy with your mouth opening and closing like that." He gripped your cheeks, squeezing them together until your lips puckered out. Rafayel frowned. "You have a fever. Wait here, I'll gather ingredients for a salve."

You could only watch wide-eyed and weak as Rafayel beautifully dived into the small wave pool, his tail fins waving as he disappeared into the depths.

Over the next few weeks, Rafayel nurses you back to full health. You've grown immensely fond of this sassy merman. He was unlike anyone you ever met and it was clear he enjoyed the attention. Today, he was teaching you about Lemurians and how they differed from humans.

"These scales are beautiful. Especially with how they catch the sunlight." You admire, running your hand over the shimmering scales of his tail, feeling the strong muscle flexing beneath your palm. Leaning back in the warm sand, you and Rafayel rest your lower halves in the gentle waves.

Rafayel swallowed thickly. "I'm glad you like them..." His eyes widen as your hands curiously wander down his tail, getting too close to his slit. He catches your hand before you can touch him, making you jump. "That's a dangerous place to touch. You are only allowed to touch me there. No one else, little human." You met his eyes, drifting back to the opening, noting how clear slick began to drip from the slight opening. Then, it clicked where you were touching.

Emboldened, you look at him. "May I?" Rafayel looked like he was going to pass out and it wasn't from heatstroke. He nodded, his body like jelly as he guides your hand to his slit, gasping as you tenderly caress his puffy lips, coaxing forth two ridged pale purple cocks, dripping with precum the color of moonstone. Nearly the same color as his hair, his twin tips were pink, fading into a dark purple at the base.

"Well then, won't you thank me properly for saving your life?" His hand curled over the back of your neck and guided you down to his waiting, leaky cocks; both begging desperately for your attention. "Gods, I have never believed in Heaven but your mouth just may be it..."

Xavier

"Oof!.. What?" You look down to see what you tripped on, eyes widening as you take in the sight of several bushy grey-blond foxlike tails splayed beneath you. Reaching down to touch you them, you gasp as a clawed hand grips your wrist tight.

A sleepy voice grumbled behind you, an arm circles your waist and tugged you back into a warm chest. "You disturbed my sleep... That's rude." In a swirl of magic, Xavier pulled you onto his lap, his chest pressing to your back.

Twin grey ears twitch atop Xavier's head, the point of a fang peeks out from beneath his top lip as he stares unimpressed. "And it's rude to stare. Doesn't my star know any manners?" Xavier growled, leaning close to nip at your lips.

His warm, wide tongue flattens over your pulse point, licking a stripe up your skin. "It's been a while since I've been graced by a scent so sweet... I have never had the chance to act upon it. Will you indulge me, sweet maiden?" Xavier bowed his head over your shoulder, his fangs pricking your skin.

His hot cock slides between your clothed folds, soaking your underwear in his sticky pre. Your dress bunched together in his clawed grasp. Xavier makes no attempts to enter, just happy sliding himself against the thin cotton of your underwear, seemingly content with cumming over them instead of inside. He yanks your underwear taught, moaning as his wet head slipped against the rough fabric. Your panties practically translucent from your combined juices. Bucking your hips, you whine for more. "Oh, are you in a rush? We have all night, don't we? Why so eager to rush to the finale-- are you that desperate to have me fill you with my kits?"

Sylus

All you could see were two glowing red eyes within the shadowy tree line. They were impossibly high off the ground, meaning the creature who owned those eyes had to be at least seven to eight feet tall. A tremoring growl echoed as the creature breaches the darkness and towers over you, sniffing at the air.

"What a bold little rabbit to trample into the lion's den so willingly-- and during his rut no less." The beast-man circles you, large horns protruding from his head and curl backwards. Great, black wings are furled at his back. His skin is two-toned, half pale white and half-sleek and black as night. You couldn't quite tell what he was, too much like a chimera, his most dominant features resembled the visages of a crow and a dragon.

"Cheeky, cheeky..." He stepped fully into the light of the full moon. His form was massive and his horns only added to his already imposing height and build. Sylus circles you like cornered prey, his cock heavy and pulsating between his thighs. Lowering himself down to his knees, he tilts your chin up. "Tell me, sweetie. Have you ever been with an untamed beast like me?"

The grass was soft beneath your fingertips, curling them into the dirt as Sylus ruts into you with fervor. His heavy balls smack against your ass, one large, clawed hand covers yours, threading your fingers together. He took you like a lover; reverently, worshipping, like he never wanted to leave.

"If you want to scream for me, go ahead and scream. Let the whole forest know how good I make you feel. From this day forward, I will court you as my mate. You will never want for nothing again, sweetie."

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[hidden-poet]

S. lands on top; 5

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

Darkest content I have ever written. Please don't read unless you are 100% comfortable (and over 18).

Warnings: Graphic sex, violent sex, borderline torture, r*pe, over stimulation, Coriolanus is terrible, terrible, terrible, sexual assault, sex being weaponized, hitting, name calling, punishments, objectification, 18+ ONLY, Coriolanus figures out new kinks (I figure out new kinks), not a safe environment.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

Author's note: I am in no way condoning this type of behavior. This is a pure work of fiction used to explore a safe, and unrealistic feterisation of the desirability and not the actual act in itself. I am sexualizing the character Coriolanus Snow, and not Tom Bylth (I mean no disrespect or objectification to actor).

That being said, I am going to need some love on this chapter if there is a desire out there to read this sort of stuff in a safe environment and contained atmosphere. What you read cannot harm you, unless you are irresponsible and do not take measures to look after your mental and physical health. This is fiction and SHOULD NOT be brought into the real world. I can create more, but will not if it is not wanted or used responsibly.

chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

 Coriolanus sat at his writing desk, completing his last assignment before the break as Mabel lay across the bed, supposed to be completing her own homework. 

But she seemed lost in thought. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. Coriolanus had given up on chastising her long ago. 

Between organizing the games, attending lectures and keeping up with his course work, Coriolanus had no time to play games with Mabel. No matter how tempting she was.

 The break would be well deserved and well used. 

Completing this last assignment would free Coriolanus to focus on Mabel and her behavior. Reaping Day was only a week away, and she was inadequate to be presented to Dr. Gaul.

She knew that Reaping Day had consequences for the both of them. He told her time and time again of the dangers of Dr. Gaul, but the fight is what kept Mabel alive. If she rolled over for him once, she felt she might be stuck there.

Coriolanus could hear her as she moved off the bed. He was about to demand that she sit back down and complete her work but her footsteps made their way over to him and not out the door. 

It was the first time she had ever approached him without the intent to hurt him. It was a welcome change when she swung her leg around his waist and not a punch.  

So he put down his pen to give her his full attention, eager to see how this would play out. 

She sat on his lap, twining her small fingers into the curls of his hair. Her green eyes stared back bravely into intimidating blue ones. 

“All you ever do is work,” she states. Her voice carries a seductive tone. “No wonder you’re crazy.” 

His hips buck up into her in desperation. He scolds himself for it. He had more self-control than that. 

“Are you offering a study break?”

“I am offering you the night of your life.” 

He had no idea where this change was coming from. Just this morning she deliberately knocked a pot of hot tea onto his lap. Luckily, it had cooled enough not to burn him but it angered him all the same. 

Now she was offering herself to him. He knew it was a trick. She was playing the only card she had after fighting for so long to keep it. 

He goes to kiss her, testing how much he could get out of this.

His head is yanked back, her hands digging into his hair to keep him at bay. 

“For a train ride back home.” Mabel finished. 

His lips curl up into a smirk. He could almost laugh at her.

“Think about it, Coriolanus. You’ll bore of me sooner or later,” she begins to grind her hips into his. He fights to keep his focus. 

“This, what you feel now. It’ll be gone.” His hands catch her hips to stop her moving. Her tongue was her weapon, and his clear head was his.

“But it’s here now. You could have it.” She yanks his head back as far as she could but follows with her lips hovering over his.

He thinks about just lying. After all, there was no obligation to keep any promise he gives her. 

But he did want a relationship with Mabel, one that had a certain level of trust. She would do nothing for him without trust. And there would be no chance of her teaming up with him against Dr. Gaul. He remembers how important trust is in District 12. 

Satisfaction now could result in negative long term consequences. And Coriolanus was in this for the long term. 

She moves her lips to the shell of his ear and begins to speak gently into it. 

“You could think about me for years. Marry a pretty Capitol girl but think of me as you fuck her.” Her body was pressed tightly against him but she managed to squeeze a hand between them and knead his inner thigh.  “Think of this night, when a District girl fucked your brains out for hours.”

Coriolanus pushes her back by her shoulders. It was almost too much for him. His lust clouded his judgment. He needed to regain control, she had snatched it from him so easily. He was going to be President of Panem. Now was the time to show the cunningness it took to control. 

“I’ll be gone by morning, and you could keep the memory of me. Forget the struggles and fights. When you bore, that’ll be all that's left.” 

Coriolanus reaches out to take her chin in between his forefinger and thumb. Restricting her movements as she did to him. 

‘‘When I get bored of you, I’ll pass you along to someone else. Plinth seemed to have taken a shine to you. Maybe you Districts can bond over the home you’ll never see again.”

His words angered her, he could see it in her eyes. He wasn’t sure if he would ever bore of this. The constant power struggle. He loved it. Winning control gave him such a thrill. He loved the fight Mabel put up because he was always going to win it. He was stronger, smarter. He had  every card and she had none. Yet her nature made surrender an implausible possibility, and his competitive nature never tired of the defeat. 

“Maybe,” she spat as she tore herself from his lap, “Maybe, he might finally make me come too.” 

She threw herself back down on the bed amongst her school work. 

Her words should have upset him, he knew she came more often than not, prided himself on the fact. His ego wasn’t bruised, instead a thrill ran through him. The resistance and consequences were the most fun. 

—---------------

The next day, Coriolanus excused himself from work, claiming he had a cold. It was only midday but his tired colleagues were supportive of him going home. They all hoped that it would lead to an early mark for all of them. Sickness was contagious, it was possible for them all to have one too.

To Coriolanus’s luck, Dr. Gaul was traveling through the Districts, marking the best spots to host the Reapings. So she wasn’t there to witness Coriolanus act like a desperate school boy.

He was sure word would get to her as it always did, but there was no cold hard stare dissuading him now. 

Tigris wouldn’t be home from work until 5:30, and Grandma’am wouldn’t be home long after that. The old women hated being left alone with Mabel. She was adamant that Coriolanus build a servants' quarters where Mabel could be hidden. 

That meant that he had Mabel all to himself for the whole afternoon, and he was going to use every second.

Only a quick detour to pick up the things he would need could be excused. He made the chauffeur park a block away in front of a cafe and wrote a list. Coriolanus couldn’t be seen engaging in such disgraceful behavior but a faceless chauffeur could. 

His driver was about the same age as Coriolanus but had made some perilous mistakes that rendered him a tongueless Avox. Coriolanus had a vague memory that he used to play with a young child in his primary education days that resembled the young driver now, but Coriolanus didn’t dwell on it. That was the past, the future is what concerns him. 

The chauffeur looks at the list with wide eyes. He knew the items listed were to be used against the young girl he had taken back to the Snow’s penthouse, but he went and got them anyway. 

It was only a quick trip back to the house after that. Coriolanus tore the items out of the packages and continued accordingly. His footsteps were quick as he made his way through the large building. The people in front of him were too slow, it seemed like the elevator took years to get to him. He was just about to leap up the stairs when the doors opened just in time. 

Peacekeepers guarded his door in case Grandma’am or Tigris came home early. 

“You’re not needed.” He comments as he passes the Peacekeepers. They move almost instantly. 

He locks the door behind him, the bag crumples in his hold. 

Mabel sat sewing dresses for Tigris's shop. Despite spending her days making clothes, Mabel only had the green dress from Tigris and wore Coriolanus’s clothes to bed. 

She eyes him cautiously from the couch. There was something in his eyes that gave him away. Mabel decides the best course of action was to run.

He chases her into the dining room where she uses the long table as a barrier between them. 

They pause at each end. Coriolanus was first to make a move and Mabel reacted by swiftly moving in the opposite direction. 

The room is silent apart from their shuffling of feet. Impatient, Coriolanus throws himself across the table but Mabel jumps back to the entrance and retreats to the living room. 

Her bare feet thud across the marble floor as she made her way to the door. Her only chance was the door falsely locking. Everywhere else was a dead end. The apartment was large and filled with rooms but they were all locked and unlocked at Coriolanus’s command. 

She twisted and pulled but the door wouldn’t even budge. 

She could hear Coriolanus reaching her and she slid back across the hallway as Coriolanus came barreling into the door.  He chases her back into the dining room where he had dropped the bag. 

Before she could distance herself around the table, Coriolanus caught her arm and threw her into the polished wood. 

He managed to catch her flailing arms but her screaming gave him the headache had had lied about. 

He gathers her wrists and uses them to pull her over his shoulder so he can hoist her up.

She kicks and hits as he carries her to the bedroom, but it only gives him further justification for what he planned to do. He squats down to pick up the bag he dropped. He couldn’t leave it, given its purpose. 

With the door kicked shut, he drops Mabel on the bed and crawls on top of her, holding her still. 

They wrestle on the bed as Coriolanus struggles to take her dress off as Mable thrashes under him. 

But once off her shoulders, he took the handcuffs from the bag, attaching them easily to a bedpost where he could secure her. 

She panics as the first cuff is secured around her wrist and as Coriolanus reaches for the other, she sinks her teeth into the skin of his hand. 

He yells from the pain. The bite on his shoulder searing in pain from the memory. . 

A sharp backhand throws her down, making it easier to lock her in place. 

“I am going to fucking kill you!” She screams at him. It was a good time to bring out the gag from the bag and secure it in place. 

She continues to kick violently, still trying to hurt Coriolanus. He admired it. Beat and yet still fighting. 

He wanted her completely still so he continued his work, pulling out similar cuffs designed for her ankles and fastened them in place. What was left in the bag was two-meter lengths of rope which he tied around her knees to pull them completely open. He attaches the ends to the base of the bed with a knot he learned from his Peacekeeper stint. 

He stares admiring his work. She struggled against the restraints but could move very little. It was perfect, and he had hours to enjoy it. Unless Tigris came home early. With that thought, he locked the main bedroom door. 

With one last lingering look, he reached into the bag and pulled out the ‘pièce de résistance’. 

It was a small bullet-sized vibrator. It shook between his fingers. She kicked as much as she could as he inserted it dry. 

With the bullet doing its job, Coriolanus did his. He had wanted to explore Mabel's body for as long as he could remember. And with no pressing time limits he would complete this search now. 

He starts down by her feet, letting his lips drag over her skin. He examines every mole and scar along her. Kissing when he wanted to and biting because he could. It took a while, but he reached just behind her knee of the opposite leg he started with when she first came.

 From how slow he was going, he guessed it took half an hour for her first one. He wondered where he would reach for the next one. He smoothed his hands out over her skin, peppering kisses on odd spots. He had gone from her fingertips to her shoulder when her next climax came. 

He was in no rush to do anything. He explored her body the way he wanted to. She tried to headbutt him as he attempted to reach her ear but he caught her throat in his hand before it landed. He spent the next 15 minutes just on her ear alone. Biting and sucking on the lobe. He was still there when she came next. He moved on to the other ear then and waited until her next orgasm which took longer. 

After his mouth had left a cold, wet trail over every inch of her body, he took the time to count her freckles. It annoyed him when her body spasmed with another orgasm and he had to start again. 52 little brown dots was the final count. 

He moved from the bed only twice, first to remove his shoes, coat, and jewelry. And second, because he felt hungry around late afternoon. He went to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich and drink before returning to the bedroom to eat it. He didn’t want to miss Mabel's next orgasm.  

After a break of just tracing his finger around her body, and watching as she came, again and again, he decides to begin again with his mouth. 

Her legs shook from overstimulation. Coriolanus could feel them as they trembled underneath his lips. Her pussy was glistening and swollen. It looked sore from the abuse, but it was far from over. 

Her moisture dripped below her and down her inner thighs but Coriolanus just knew that her throat must be itchy and dry. He could offer her a drink of water, seeing as it had been hours of this torture, but he doesn’t.  

She had tried begging before or at least that’s what Coriolanus assumed. It could have been more insults but the crying after it made insults seem unlikely. The crying only lasted 10 minutes before her exhaustion didn’t allow her to do even that. 

She looked beautiful like this: entirely his. Under his control and mercy.

He licked the cum from her shaking thighs and moved to sit on her stomach. He was still fully clothed to add to her humiliation. 

She groaned from the weight of him. It came out muffled from under her gag but he could hear it. Her eyes were closed, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing the fear in them. 

His fingers pinched at her erect nipple, twisting it, and massaging her breast under his hand. 

Her breasts were small but a handful was all Coriolanus needed. 

Bore of this? He thought to himself. He wouldn’t object to perfunctory sex with Mabel but this is an elevated high he never thought feasible. 

A whine came from her again and he wondered if she was going to begin begging again. If she was, she was interrupted by reaching another climax that turned her begging into a muffled yell. 

Her hips buck underneath him as it ripples through her. Coriolanus watches her face as it screws up in painful pleasure. She throws her head back into her pillow three times as it passes. 

He wonders what she would say if she could say anything. Her begging is muffled, so she felt free to speak her mind but would the words flow from her mouth knowing that it would give Coriolanus confirmation. 

When her eyes fling open, it almost shocks Coriolanus. They had been closed for the past four hours. Her eyes tell him she is tired but still oh so defiant. If he was to take off her gag, he was sure that she would spit at him. 

Something about it aroused him further. 

He takes his weight off her and goes back to the end of the bed. More cum had leaked from her, making her thighs once again glisten. 

Deciding to give her a break, he reaches in and pulls the rotating device from her. It was holding in some residue cum that poured onto the bed sheets. She began breathing heavily again now that the tension was gone from her body. The poor thing thinks it’s over.

He blows gently on her abused pussy. Even the air was too much after the overstimulation. 

She tries to close her legs but the ropes stop her. 

A kiss is firmly planted on her clitoris and her wetness soaks Coriolanus's lips. She whines again, bucking her hips up to try and get him off. He cages her legs between his arms, pinning them under his shoulders as he digs his nose into the spot and begins to swirl, licking and lapping with his tongue sporadically. 

Her thighs still shake under him, and his legs join in anticipation. He rises himself to undress completely before dragging her by her knees into her own wet spot on the bed and inserting himself. She grips the chain at the intrusion. He could tell it caused her discomfort, maybe even pain as he did, but he slid in so easily. 

Her wetness meant that friction was hard to pick up so he slammed into her harshly for his own satisfaction. He had angled her so she was slightly raised from the bed as far as the ropes would allow and pounded into her with such force that she jolted at each thrust.

Her fingers clawed at what they could as Coriolanus had his way with her. 

Her swollen cunt clenched around him making Coriolanus groan in pleasure. 

The pressure around his cock got tighter and tighter as she reached another climax. Coriolanus was not far behind her after holding out for hours. 

As she came around him, it was enough for Coriolanus to come with her. 

He wanted to make a snide remark about how he could make her come but his mind was swimming. He drives his cock as far as he could into her even though he was empty. They remain like that, Coriolanus keeping Mabel there with a strong grip on her hips. Occasionally he would rock his hips back and forth, fucking the cum back into her. 

By the time Coriolanus caught his breath, he could hear the faint sound of Tigris’s heels coming down the hall. 

Mabel opened her eyes again, sure now that it was finally over. Coriolanus was hesitant to show his family his darker side. Mabel was subdued to never talk about it with threats to her family. So suspicions were never confirmed.

“Mabel?” The locked door jiggles. “Are you in there?” 

With a sigh, Coriolanus separates himself and goes over to the other side of the door. 

“Don’t come in, Tigris.” She couldn’t with the door locked anyway. “Mabel has been sick.”

He throws his gaze back to Mabel still tied to the bed.

“Let me in. I can help.” Tigris tries the locked door again. 

“She’s asked for privacy.” 

Mabel's brows furrow, but loosen as she forms a plan. While tied, her hands still had a little movement which she used to bang against the wooden headboard to alert her friend to her danger. 

Coriolanus rushes over and stills her hands firmly against the headboard. He was going to make her pay for that. 

Tigris had heard it and asked what the noise was. 

“Go away. Don’t worry. I’ll look after Mabel.”

Mabel instantly knew the underlying threat and went limp in his hold. 

He remains motionless until Tigris’s footsteps disappear back down the hall.

Only then does he move across the room to retrieve the cane used by her governess. 

It was a thin metal stick that a heavy piece of leather attached to the end that was used to smack down on hands. 

Mabel watched him as he brought it over. She pulled against her restraints but they were the best money could buy. 

He stood by her side, closest to the door so he could hear any more visitors.

Bringing the leather down to her clit, he began slapping the rod down unpleasantly.

He hit harder on her thighs, and more forcefully on her stomach, but only a rap on her breasts. He rotated randomly between the four areas of her cunt, thigh, stomach, and breasts, so she could never brace herself for the next hit.  

Her skin turned red from the assaults and her sobs hiccuped between her heavy breathing. 

There were sure to be black bruises the next day. A reminder for her. 

He taps the whip one-two-three-four times more harshly against her cunt than previously, before kneeling down and dropping it completely. 

He is at level with her perfect breast and he takes it into his mouth. His teeth grazed the sore and sensitive skin. He sucked like an infant while his hand groped her other breast between his fingers. He squeezed too hard for it to be of any pleasure for Mabel. 

He had grown painfully hard again. Now seeking his next relief he stands and unlocks one cuff with his fingerprint. 

Mabel instantly reaches for her gag but her wrist is caught and brought towards Coriolanus’s throbbing cock. She tries to pull her hand free but it is forced around his member and with his hand on top of hers, he begins to move it back and forth. 

She concedes and follows his movement with his hand now free and off hers, he uses it to redirect her face to what she is doing. 

He holds the back of her hair steady and keeps it in place as he feels his end nearing. 

His cum squirts out over her. Her face and chest now dripping with it. 

He was so caught up he failed to hear Tigris coming back down the hall. 

“Coryo, Mabel. Dinner is ready”. 

Coriolanus takes a deep breath before answering as evenly as he could, “We’ll be right there.” 

But he clips Mabel's hand back into the cuff. 

A whole afternoon of sex had relaxed Coriolanus. Everything that had bothered him before now seemed so silly. Was this all he needed all along to relieve the tension he always felt? He felt so good. But poor Mabel had taken his hurt. 

But she was bad and bad girls get punished. He had told her this. She needed to learn her place and this was a perfect example of it. 

Coriolanus wiped his cum from her chest down her stomach. She shuddered as he did it. She was sticky and wet and so, so beautiful. 

He looks down at his sticky hands and goes to the bathroom to wash them. Wiping a warm washcloth over himself to rid the mixture of cum he had picked up. He disregards the used washcloth and grabs another to wash the smell of sex off him. 

He runs it over his arms and shoulders as he walks to his closet to pick out an outfit for dinner. Deciding on his navy suit pants and white dress shirt, he finishes running the rag over himself and drops it to the floor.

Mabel was so still, if it wasn't for her shallow breathing, he would have thought he killed her. 

Now dressed, he goes back to her and stands on the end of the bed. He could hear the buzzing of the device but couldn’t see it. Mabel lay with her eyes closed, resting. 

He finds it and shoves it back inside of her. 

It causes her eyes to shoot back open. This time he was sure she was begging him to take it out. Her head shook ‘no’ when her words failed her. 

He smiles down at her, feeling like a god. 

“To make up for my previous inadequacies.” 

He leaves the room, making sure to relock it. 

Tigris, of course, asks him where Mabel was when he reached the dinner table. He continues with the ‘unwell’ lie and eats with a hunger he never knew, even during the war. 

—---

He skips dessert to attend to Mabel and warn off any more questions from Tigris. 

The room was quiet and dark. She lay on the bed motionless. The slight buzz sound could be heard the closer he got but Mabel's legs lay limp, unresponsive to it. 

He reaches down gently and pulls the device out for the final time. When he switches it off, Mabel considers the ordeal over. 

He unlocks the cuffs from her wrists and ankles and unties the rope from her knees. He half expects her to be filled with a burst of energy but all she could do is curl into a ball as she is released. Her eyes never open and her mouth never makes a sound. 

He switches on the lamp to see her more clearly. Her skin was still red and glistened with his cum. 

Her thighs were smeared with a small amount of blood that leaked from her abused hole. 

Perhaps he went too hard, but he didn’t feel sorry for it. 

She still doesn’t move as Coriolanus picks her up. No whimper or sound. She let him do what he wanted and that’s all he had ever asked of her. 

He places her in the large tub and runs hot water for her bath. Her head tilts to the side as she rests and Coriolanus brushes her hair from her face. 

He leaves her there to return to the bedroom, ringing down on the service phone for the changing of his sheets. 

The hot water begins to cover her body which is slumped down. He pulls her back up by her neck and keeps his hold in case she slips under. 

She sighs as the hot water surrounds  her. Her body ached with pain. If she had any water left in her she would have cried. 

Coriolanus leans against the bathtub watching as the water rises above her. It all seemed surreal to finally have done the debauched acts he had dreamed about doing since he first saw her. Just having sex was one thing, but that was a performance. A period of time when he could do anything and everything he wanted. A quickie in the shower or a quiet struggle at night did not satisfy Coriolanus the way this had. 

He had to get Tigris and Grandma’am out of the house, or he and Mabel could leave. He could no longer live by their rules. He wanted Mabel completely under his control like she was an hour ago, not safeguarded by virtuous Tigris. 

He had waited all through his tortuous months as a Peacekeeper, watching her as she was protected by men much larger than himself. Even with his position and weapons, he was no match if one of them decided to fight him off. But now he was. Now no one stood in his way, apart from Dr. Gaul. But once he won the presidency, he would deal with her then. 

He remembered the night of Mayfair’s murder. Watching Mabel as Lucy Gray sang his song. She had her hair twisted on top of her head, hot and sweaty from dancing. She was surrounded by her friends and hopeful men and sat drinking something that was bought for her. She talked through his song to her man on her left. She was missing the song. He wanted to do something. To force her to listen to the words of the song. 

He was desirable just like her. He was powerful, and resourceful. Saved Lucy Gray from the Hunger Games. If she would just listen, surely she would want him just as Lucy Gray had. But she laughed over his name. The anger he felt proved useful when it came time to kill Mayfair but buried itself into his body until it could be released upon his target. Tonight it left his body, and Coriolanus felt as if a weight had been released. 

He turns off the water, hearing a forceful knock at the door. The maids were here to change the sheets.

‘‘Sit up. Don’t drown.” He demands, letting go of Mabel's neck to answer the door. 

To his surprise, Tigris stood with the maids. Her tall frame towered over them. 

He was careful only to let the maids through the door. 

“She’s thrown up all over the bed. Leave her be, Tigris.”

She eyes the room behind him, trying to find Mabel. She offers to make up the spare bed for him to sleep in, but he knew it was to create distance between him and Mabel. 

It hit the final nail on his decision, Tigris and Grandma’am could no longer live with him. 

“I’ll stay with her tonight to make sure she is alright.” He shoves himself through his door and slams it in Tigris’s face. 

The maids had stripped the bed and he ordered one to fetch him two bottles of water before disappearing back into the bathroom. 

The door is shut offering privacy. 

Mabel still had her eyes closed and a crumpled frame. He resumes his spot on the floor next to her. 

“I would like an apology for your comment last night.” 

She doesn’t offer one. Coriolanus was glad. He wanted to keep at least some of her fighting spirit. 

But disobedience still had to be punished. 

He lowers his hand down into the water towards her sex. She jolts, squeezing her legs as tightly as her weak muscles would allow.

“Okay-okay. I am sorry.” Her voice was raspy and barely existent. 

He lets her finish her bath in peace. The water was nearly cold by the time he reached down and pulled the plug from under her. 

She had rarely moved as she soaked. He doesn’t wait for the water to disappear as he picks her up from the tub and moves her to sit on the counter by the sink. Her body was weak and she leaned against the glass as he dried her with a towel. 

He rolled up his wet sleeves, unsure of why he didn’t do it earlier. He had just wanted to get Mabel out of the bath and into bed but at even the slightest expense to himself? Maybe he was just tired also. 

He brought her forward so he could reach behind her for her toothbrush. She tries to take it after he applies the paste, but he is resistant to give it to her. Her hold was so weak, that it would surely topple to the floor.

He forces it between her lips to give her teeth a quick brush. The foam dribbles down her chin as she spit it out. Using the same towel, he wipes her clean before picking her up once more. 

He sits her on the ottoman and she falls back into the newly made bed. She was so tired. She couldn’t care where or how she slept. But Coriolanus did. 

He found his nicest pair of silk pajamas. They were deep brown and soft as butter. 

She was awake enough to see him bring them back over but they were entirely wrong for her. 

They reeked of him. They fit her too loosely. Reminded her too much of all she had lost. 

They caused a surge of energy. Enough to sit up and resist the clothes as Coriolanus dressed her like a doll. It was a struggle to get her hand through the first sleeve but as his movements became rougher, her fight fled. 

He wondered why it was so important that she was clean and comfortable. Why didn’t he leave her in her own mess, or let her sleep naked if she was going to fight him on it? What did it say about him? About how he felt about Mabel?

He assured himself it was the war. He had very little but always took very good care of the things he did have. This was the same. He was only ensuring that his things would last. 

Besides, when she was good, he would treat her nicely. He could, but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t ruthless enough to run Panem. He was sure that even Dr. Gaul let her favorite pets sleep in the bed with her. 

As soon as he pulled her up to her pillow and laid her down into the fresh sheets, she fell asleep. It was the easiest bedtime since she was brought here. He pulls the blanket over her, tucking her in before he has his own shower. 

He returns to the dim light, straining to see if Mabel was awake. 

Mabel had not moved, even in her sleep.

He dresses and turns off the lamp. He wiggled next to Mabel, lowering his shoulder from its natural height so Mabel's cheek was pressed against it. It was silly and out of place after everything he had done, but it felt right to him. 

He wondered how she would wake. Would it be with a newfound obedience or did Coriolanus have many more nights like this on the cards? He secretly hoped for the latter. 

—-----------

When Coriolanus woke the next morning Mabel was still asleep. 

In his kindness, he decided to let her sleep longer. Last night was sure to have worn her out. 

He takes another shower, taking time to groom himself and apply his skin care. 

When he was finished, Mabel was still asleep. It was early, not even seven in the morning, so Coriolanus finished dressing without disturbing her. 

She looked so small in the massive bed. So delicate. If he didn’t know her, he would have never believed that such a small frame could carry such a big mouth. 

He closes the door quietly as he exits for breakfast.

Grandma’am and Tigris were already sitting at the table, picking food from the center. 

“Where’s Mabel?” Tigris asked.

“Asleep,” Coriolanus takes a pastry off the centerpiece and talks to the maid as he sits, “Put aside a plate for her.”

“You’re not going to wake her for breakfast?”

“She is still ill.” 

“Lazy,” Grandma’am spits out, “Districts are all lazy.” 

“Oh dear, maybe I should stay home today.” Tigris offers. 

“And watch her sleep?” Coriolanus mocks. Mabel knew to keep their relationship between the two of them but after last night it was best to err on the side of caution. 

“She’s sick, Coriolanus. She needs someone to take care of her.” 

She was Coriolanus's pet and Coriolanus's responsibility. 

“The Peacekeepers have a direct line to my office. If she needs something they can’t provide, I will take care of it.” 

Tigris pushes back her eggs, no longer hungry. 

“I still think-” she begins but Coriolanus’s temper flares. 

“You know what I think, Tigris? Perhaps it would be best for Mabel and I to find an apartment closer to the city.” 

“Move out from the Snow penthouse?” Grandma’am exclaims. 

“If Tigris will not stop interfering, what choice do we have, Grandma’am?” Coriolanus responds. 

“Interfere? Interfere with what exactly? Your violation of that poor girl? Is she sick, or have you done something to her? This is-this is…No!” Tigris gets up flustered.

“Sit down, Tigris,” Coriolanus demands, “Mabel is sick. It was bound to happen. She is District. She is not used to Capitol illnesses.’’ 

“Listen to your cousin, dear. Sit.” Grandma’am beckons. 

Grandma’am knew that if Coriolanus was to move out, his protection would go with him. Grandma’am had lived a hard and bitter life since the war, she was determined to die in peace. 

Tigris does sit back down, but remains in her frazzled state. 

Mabel was still asleep by the time everyone had left the apartment. Coriolanus left her a bottle of water and some painkillers next to her on her bedside, alongside a note letting her know there was food in the fridge for her. 

Work was more bearable with last night still running through his mind. He was in a good mood all day. It made him stand out amongst his gloomy coworkers. Nothing was too much trouble. He could take that extra task on. He could wait while his assistant readied documents due hours ago. 

Mabel was going to be of great use when he became President. He laughs quietly to himself as fleshes out his new game ideas on paper. 

“President Snow, how do you manage the pressure of it all?”

“The satisfaction of knowing I am serving my country keeps me preserving through difficult times.”

Meanwhile, Mabel would be back at the presidential estate tied to his bed, waiting for him. 

A small giggle escapes into the silent room and floats through the air. Coriolanus sits up straighter, fixing his face into a scowl as people look for the source of the laughter. 

Did Dr. Gaul laugh?  Did Dr Gaul ever kiss and pet her animals? What would she think of him if she could see him giddy as a schoolboy?

He used to pride himself on his self-control but Mabel had deteriorated it. 

She was a source of pleasure, where he had only known pain. The pain kept him sharp. 

He was doing so well. Too well to be thrown off balance by her. 

He reshuffles his pages to a blank piece. With Mabel on his mind, his proposal was weak. 

To impress Dr Gaul, he needed to show her that he was just as ruthless in his pleasure, as he was in his pain. 

—---------

He got home an hour after he was supposed to. No one was surprised when he was late. Not with the games just around the corner. 

His tired eyes were looking forward to seeing Mabel, but as he entered the apartment only Grandma’am, and Tigris greeted him. 

He kisses Grandma’am hello as she croons about his long day. Tigris sat in the living room matching patterns, clearly still angry. 

“Where’s Mabel?” he asks. He knew she was either in the kitchen or bedroom, but it seemed odd that she would leave her friend. They were normally joined at the hip as soon as Tigris came home from work. 

Tigris’s eyes shoot up at him. Before Mabel, Tigris had never looked at him with such hatred.

“She’s in bed. She hasn’t moved all day. I sat with her for an hour, she didn’t say a word.” 

Coriolanus makes his way to the bedroom to see it is completely dark. She didn’t even move to turn on a lamp. 

His sounders tensed with the thought that he had damaged his new toy. He had only wanted to control the spark, not extinguish it. 

He knew she could hear him as he approached her but she gave him no attention. 

He hoped to at least have her yell at him. Demand he get out, but everything was silent. 

Sitting on the bed next to her, he places a hand on her shoulder and speaks softly. 

“Mabel get up.”

She ignores him which angers him greatly. 

He sees she has taken her painkillers and drank her water. She had no reason to act this bratty. 

“What you did yesterday was…” She pauses to take a breath. 

Coriolanus’s mind races with answers: Exhilarating, memorable, long overdue. 

“Cruel.” She finished. From her perspective, maybe.

“You know, I’ve spent all day trying to remember you back in 12. I can only remember that night at the Hobb. Your eyes. So blue.” Her green eyes look up at his, “They gave you away.”

He could remember every occasion that Mabel came into view. But he watched from the shadows, and she danced in the light. 

“Mabel, I have given you no delusions as to why you are here. I’ve been very honest about your situation.” 

“Did you kill Mayfair?”

“Yes,” he admits. He felt his secret was safe with her. 

“Lucy Gray?” 

“Yes.” 

She doesn’t look afraid. Only defiant. It relieved Coriolanus to no end. He hadn’t broken his favorite toy. She was regaining her strength for battle. 

She sits up causing Coriolanus to lean slightly back to avoid a collision.

“Your eyes,” she states, “There’s something so dark behind them, that’s why I remembered them. I thought ‘run Lucy Gray!’ when I saw them.”

“She tried.” 

“I won’t run.”

“You won’t get the chance.” Coriolanus rises from the bed but keeps his eyes trained on Mabel. 

“I won’t run,” she repeats, “I’ll kill you.” 

He took her jaw roughly into his hands, turning it left and right as he spoke. 

“There’s not a single thought in that pretty little head of yours, is there?”

“There’s only one.” 

Coriolanus smiles down at her, despite her threat. She was so beautiful with her long dark eyelashes and her long dark hair that twisted past her shoulders and lay splayed out around her.

“I watched you for months as a Peacekeeper. Imagining all the things I would do if I could.'' He tucks her hair back behind her ear as he continues speaking, “Now here you are. Right under my fingertips. Mine. Free to do as I wish with.” 

He pushes her head back as he releases his hold of her jaw to stand.

“You thought I was cruel last night? Imagine what I am capable of when I am truly motivated.”

 He pulls down his sleeves that had rode up from his movements. It was important to look put together at all times. 

“I’ve dreamt of you for so long, Mabel . I will have you exactly how I want.”

“For now,” she concedes.

He squints his eyes at her. The things he would do if Tigris wasn't already waiting. 

“You need to come out and show Tigris that you are fine.” 

He could tell that she was in pain from her tense and slow movements but her face was brave.

Still dressed in his brown nightwear, she walks tall to the door, never looking behind her. 

—--------------

Coriolanus arrives home well after dinner due to Dr. Gaul arriving back in the Capitol. Now that the screening locations were picked, she didn’t want her efforts to be wasted. They all had to think of ways to prolong the screening. 

She was happy with nothing unless it added to the misery of districts. Coriolanus watched as she pushed and hinted at what she truly wanted. She was not interested in sharing ideas, she only wanted the participation of the group to distribute the blame. They were all in this together.

 All monsters of the Capitol. All a fine example of the human condition: hidden by fine clothing, and etiquette but at the core animals that believed in nothing but survival of the fittest. 

Coriolanus finally guessed at what she was getting at, and they could all go home, nearly three hours after the official day had ended. 

Coriolanus was eager to get home and relieve some of the stress that he felt. Gamemaking was not for the faint of heart. 

They had waited to have dinner with him, much to Coriolanus’s annoyance. Grandma’am was adamant that it was disrespectful to eat without the man who put the food on the table. 

It fanned Coriolanus's ego so he sat alongside Mabel and ate his dinner in silence. 

All he wanted to do was retire to his room with Mabel and read. He skipped dessert to do so, much to Mabel's disappointment. 

He did enjoy Mabel's company. Even just her presence in the room helped to settle him. Was she a symbol of his power? A silent promise to the man he is to become? He had no idea why she had this effect on him, only that she did. 

After a whole day of tense conversation with Dr Gaul, he could finally relax and read his book. 

He forced Mabel to do her reading homework as well, so she didn’t annoy him. 

Her book was for Capitol children and yet it still was above her level. She sat on the bed trying to read it while Coriolanus stretched out on his desk, reading for pleasure. 

She grew frustrated, throwing her book onto the floor. Coriolanus shuts his own book to pay attention to her. 

“Something the matter?”

“The cat sat on the mat, the mat sat on the cat. Who cares? Not me.” 

Her hair was pinned up by something but it was mostly coming apart. Ringlets fall and frame her face, giving her an endearing disheveled look. 

With his book back on his desk, Coriolanus goes to entertain Mabel.

Mabel is pushed to the bed as Coriolanus crawls on top of her, his head aiming for her neck. She lays unenthusiastically beneath him.

“Is Tigris dumb?”

Coriolanus stopped kissing her neck to respond. 

“What?”

“I wouldn’t mind if she’s dumb,” Her eyes focused on a faraway spot in the corner, Coriolanus had trouble regaining her attention. 

“But she’s my friend,” Mabel continues, “And she acts like she doesn’t know what you are doing. If she ain’t dumb, then she ain’t loyal. And if she ain’t loyal, we ain’t friends.” 

‘‘Isn’t,’’ he goes back to his work on her neck, ‘‘Are not.” 

He rises once more to look at her,  “We don’t say ‘ain’t’.”

“Well, I say ‘ain’t’.” Mabel pushes back on his shoulders and he takes it as a sign that more forceful measures must be taken. 

“She told me, ya know. About your childhood. How she looked after you, how poor you were. She reckons that’s why you are the way you are.”

“Mabel, don’t make yourself familiar with me.” He grabs her arm harshly and pulls her from where she lay into a kneeling position on the floor. 

“‘He doesn’t mean it,’ she said. ‘He’s been through a lot’.”

Coriolanus undoes his pants, and Mabel remains kneeling on the floor. 

“So maybe she is just dumb.” Her words are fierce but her frame shrinks underneath him. Her hands stuck together on her lap, her spine slightly curled like she wanted to roll herself into a ball. 

Coriolanus grabs her jaw to straighten her, his other hand snaking into her hair. He stands up and positions himself correctly. She couldn’t be trusted to do it by herself, so he kept a strong hold on her jaw to ensure it didn’t close, and a painful grip on the back of her head to ensure that she didn’t move away. 

He begins to fuck her mouth at a frustrated pace. 

She chokes as he pushes himself all the way in. Slamming his hips back and forth into her. 

She reaches up to take hold of the back of his pant leg, trying to steady herself.

“You don’t look like a big, tough girl now. Do you still feel like one?” he taunts, feeling her nails dig into the fabric of his pants. 

“Getting awfully friendly with me. Are we friends, Mabel? Or are you my little slut?”

His hips buck harshly in time with his words, “My-beautiful-little-slut.” 

Before resuming their quick, and needy pace, he spat out “You know what your problem is, Mabel. You never know when to shut the fuck up.” 

Her fingers curl around the fabric of his pants.

“You’re so brave, Mabel. And what did it get you? A mouthful of cock. A belly full of cum. Was it worth it?”

He could feel her jaw move under his hand but his tight hold disallowed her speech. He was going to talk, she was going to listen. 

“You think I like being cruel?  I do.  But you know what I think? You like it too. You like being shown who's boss. Again-Ah- and again.” 

He slows his pace down, dragging his cock slowly along her tongue.

“Those District boys never quite did it for you. Did they? That's why you kept cycling through them. You were waiting for a man like me to put you in your place. On your knees.” 

Her eyes flamed at him but she could do nothing more. 

She gags when he pushes too far but he doesn’t stop. 

Drool spilt from the corner of her mouth, and her eyes watered but he felt no pity. 

“You’re not dumb, Mabel. Haven’t you realized that when you’re nice, I am nice? Or have you realized that when you’re mean, I am mean?’’.

He laughs at her, angry and powerless on the floor. She digs her nails into the back of his thighs. With four more uncontrolled thrusts, he spills into her mouth and throws her back like a dirty rag.

She’s left on the floor, eyes watering and gasping for air with cum dripping off her lips. 

He drags her by the arm to the corner of the room where he forces her back into her knees facing the wall. 

“You don’t want to read your book? Fine.” 

He balances it on top of her head. “Stay there while I finish mine.”

Mabel, still ever so defiant, turns as he walks away and throws the book at him. Hitting him with a thud against his back. 

“You sick fuck!” she calls out. She goes to get up but Coriolanus is too quick for her, grabbing a thin book from his stack and shoving it between her teeth. He pushes her shoulder back towards the wall, reaching blindly for the rod he knew was close at hand. 

Feeling the cool metal between his fingers he brings it four times against her back. The book drops as she shouts and Coriolanus’s hand replaces it until the fourth strike hits. 

He picks it up again. It was a thin book, only 100 pages in length about the legislative process of government. It was short in nature given the hierarchy of parliament. It could be summed up in a sentence: the president spoke and the rest rushed to make his sentence a reality. 

He tells her to bite down and she does against the spin of the book. With her there, he goes to the locked drawer at his desk where he hid his toys from the maid. He brings out the cuffs he brought and secures her hands behind her back to make her task harder. 

Rebalancing the book, he leaves her there to return to his book at his desk.

He kept the cane in his hand, bringing it down across her every time the book fell. She remained completely still even as her neck strained. It annoyed Coriolanus so he took another book from his collection and placed it upon her thin child's book to add weight. She dropped it more easily, but the sting of the cane had her soon learning how to evenly distribute the weight. 

He had three more heavy books stacked on top of her head by the time he was finished reading for the night. 

She blinked tears away but made no sound or change to her straight posture. 

He took his books back from her head and teeth, placing them in their rightful places on the shelf. 

She was smart not to move, and he rewarded her for it by crouching down next to her and wiping her tears away with his handkerchief. She doesn’t look at him, keeping her eyes on the white wall. 

He takes hold of her jaw again to raise her from the floor and leads her to the shower. 

—-----------------

Another long day at the office left Coriolanus wishing for Reaping Day. 

 The sooner it was all over, the better for his nerves. 

Normally, on the way home he would listen to the radio news but after his exhausting day, all he wanted was silence. He knew he would no longer get it at home. The car pulled up to the curb of his building but he couldn't force himself to get out. He watched the lights of the building and the people as they entered and exited. 

He sighed deeply when he saw Mabel's Governess coming from the building. They were supposed to be done hours ago. 

He rushes out of the car as she approaches. 

“Mrs. Fox. What has she done now?”

The older woman jumped at the sound of his voice but regained herself as she turned. 

“Oh nothing, Mr. Snow,” she looked surprised to say it, “I was just visiting a friend in the same building. Mabel finished all her work diligently. We were done within four hours, and I didn't raise the cane once.”

Coriolanus smiled. Was it over? Had he done it? Maybe he was ready to be President. If he had trusted his instincts on the first day Mabel would be eating out of his hand right now. He had done it. He had won. 

“Well, that's good news.” He walks the teacher to her car, feeling generous. 

“I know I could get through to her with a heavy hand. You really must let me use my teaching experience. 

Coriolanus felt too good to correct her so he just bids her goodnight and leaps up the steps into his apartment building. 

He greets people as he makes his way through the building, avoiding conversation where he could. He was glad when the neighbor left the shared space of the elevator, sending the old woman off with a nod. The silence was refreshing after his day of non-stop chatter. He liked that Mabel didn’t speak much, at least not to him. 

The Peacekeepers greeted him as the doors opened before taking his place in the elevator. He doesn’t greet them back, focused only on opening the door and retiring to bed. 

He looks around the room to Grandma’am who sits at the kitchen table reading a gossip magazine and Tigris who is helping Mabel sew a large dress. 

Mabel wore a big, bright smile as she walked over to him and took his coat. It wasn't an unwelcome change but one that put Coriolanus on edge.

“Coryo, how was your day?” Tigris called from her seat on the couch. 

“Fine,” he answers. With Mabel still within reach he places a quick kiss on her cheek. Her eyes widened in surprise before her face scrunched into disgust. 

With his coat hung up, she leaves him by the door, going back to Tigris. The corners of her mouth twisted up into a smile. She bit down upon her lip, trying to stifle a giggle. 

He had an unsettled feeling as he walked from the living room to his bedroom. He expected glum Mabel, defeated Mabel but not gleeful Mabel. 

Opening the door he could see why. 

His books had been thrown to the floor, pages torn out and spines broken. He had nearly a whole wall full and she had taken every single one and torn it apart with her bare hands. Coriolanus had been a boy who had nothing, and even now as a man who had everything, watching his things get destroyed gave him a sick feeling. 

His bag drops by his feet and picks up the book closest to him. Chocolate was squished between the white pages. The book was borrowed from one of his professors. A first edition and highly expensive.  

He was going to kill Mabel. 

He dashes out of the room, and back to the living room where she was expecting him. 

She eyes him on the couch, eagerly. 

Alarm bells ring in his head. She wanted him to react but why? He was too angry to care. 

He had expected her to move so when his fist came down, it came down with more force than he would have normally used, which sent her off the couch and onto the floor. Despite how angry he was, he forced himself to uncurl his hand into an open palm. He straddles her, bringing his hand down across her face as many times as he could before Tigris could hinder his movements. 

“Coriolanus!” he could hear the fear in Tigris's voice and it clicked for him. Mabel had set him a trap and he had fallen straight into it. 

She wanted to expose him to his family. Make a fool out of him. 

He got off her, falling back on his legs, his eyes going to Grandma’am at the table. Her face froze with shock. 

This was too much for even Grandma’am who used to let him steal toys from other children in the playground. 

Mabel manages to get up, grabbing the fabric scissors off the table as she gains distance between them. 

“Touch me again, and I’ll fucking kill you.” She threatens. She holds the scissors in a tight grip towards Coriolanus. Grandma’am cries out in panic but she is largely ignored. 

“Let's just calm down,” Tigris soothes. 

Coriolanus rises from his spot. He could feel his rage ripple through him. 

“Drop the fucking scissors. You won’t use it.” He demands. 

“What to bet?” she spat. The scrapping of the kitchen chair breaks their standoff. 

“I am calling the Peacekeepers” Grandma’am attempts to make a break to the kitchen but she is slow in her old age. 

“Don’t!” Coriolanus growls. He wished Tigris and Grandma’am would melt into the floor so he would deal with this. 

“What a game you played, Coriolanus. So smart, so charming. It must have been exhausting for you” she mocks. “Is that what I am for you? Something you can toy with after playing Capitol pin-up boy all day?”

“I care for you, Mabel.” He admits, his face turns slightly pink from the heat of his embarrassment. He felt foolish to admit such a thing in front of his family. 

She scoffs at him, turning to Tigris. 

“Do you see?” She asks, “Do you see who he is?”

All eyes are on Tigris, who stood in silence giving her answer away. 

He had to get her back under control before she could forever ruin his and Tigris's relationship. 

“You want to go home?” Coriolanus takes a cautious step forward, “I am willing to make a trade.” 

Mabel listens.

“I hear your sister is growing up to be quite pretty. She’s too young to be of any use to me for years, so I’ll take your mother in the meantime.” 

“Coriolanus.” Tigris' voice is hard and cold.

 It felt as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him. But he was a Snow. Snow’s are not threatened, they are the threat. Does this District girl think she can make a fool out of him? That she could use his family to stronghold him? 

“I’ll send your mother back once your sister hits the right age.” 

“I’ll kill you.” Mabel threatens but her tone is weak, and her lips quiver. Coriolanus knew he was on the right track.

 “Don’t you understand, Mabel? Your life ended when you were placed on that train. It belongs to me now. I took you as easily as I can take them.”

“Not if you’re dead.” She declared. 

“Kill me Mabel, and it would be as if you slit their throats yourself.” 

She knew it too. That's why she never took a lunge. 

“Drop the scissors,” Coriolanus contends, “And I’ll forget it happened.” 

“Do you see him, Tigris? He’s not the boy you raised, he’s the boy you lost. Do you see?”

Coriolanus wasn’t sure when Tigris had begun crying but she stood now with her hands clapped up to her face and big, fat tears running down her face. 

“Yes,” Tigris sobbed. 

Mabel threw the scissors away from herself and Coriolanus took her arm, leading her to the bedroom before she could cause any more damage to his relationship with his cousin. He locks the door, making sure to double-check it before he hurries back to do damage control. 

Grandma’am and Tigris hadn’t left the living room. He doesn’t think they have moved since his outburst. He was so good at only showing them his best side. He hid the Snow that lurked beneath him all those years at the Academy, even the day he told them he was leaving for Peacekeeper training. All those years of self-restraint blown over by a hot-tempered girl in an afternoon. 

“Tigris,” he begins, reaching out to her but she jerks back away from him. 

“No, Coriolanus. No. I can’t sit by and watch you torment that poor girl.”

She begins to shove her work into her suitcase, throwing the scissors hard into the bottom.  

He felt a switch flip in him. She was going against him? After all he had done for her? Brought their family from ruin all off his own back. Slaved over his grades. Went to school hungry so that she could have more to eat. He got punished for cheating in the hunger games so he could win the Plinth Prize and keep a roof over her head. And now, she was going to take a District's side over him?

“Then don’t watch.” 

Coriolanus turns towards his office, the words of peace Grandma’am spewed behind him got lost in the slammed door. 

He immediately contacted a colleague who owned a collection of high-end resorts and inquired about the best apartment that he had available. His next call was to his driver and then to the Peacekeepers telling them to come inside in the next five minutes. 

When he entered Tigris' room she was already there. She begins the lecture again but this time Coriolanus is unfazed as he grabs one of her many bags and starts to shove whatever his hand touches into it. This stops her. 

The startled sound she made was new to Coriolanus. He always tried to hide his dark side to avoid scaring her, just as she always hid her panic to avoid worrying him. Tonight Mabel brought the emotions to the surface. 

“What are you doing?” she asks meekly. 

“I told you, Tigris. Mind your business or get out.”

She doesn’t stop him as he packs her things. 

“You aren’t serious. This is my home!” 

Coriolanus makes no verbal response causing Tigris to sit on her bed to absorb the blow. 

She had to leave. To save their relationship. Coriolanus planned to do much worse things to Mabel. 

Mabel too, needed to know that his family were not playthings for her. He couldn’t be seen cowering in the shadows any longer. He was the leader of the Snow family, it was time he acted like it. 

He could hear Grandma’am. Her loud, high-pitched voice quivered as it exclaimed to the Peacekeepers the events of the night. Coriolanus raced to stop her.  

“Coriolanus!” she calls as he enters the room. 

He takes her into his arms and speaks softly to the woman, “Go back a bag, Grandma'am. I’ll send the rest after you.” 

Coriolanus held her a bit tighter as she turned pale. Would shifting her from the Snow penthouse kill her? She could have her rose garden anywhere. He will ensure it. The new apartment was closer to the city anyway. This would be better for them all. 

After a moment of silence, Grandma’am stood tall. Her face was blank from emotion as she shook her youngest grandchild from her. 

“You,” she points to a Peacekeeper, “Follow me.” 

Silence overtook the room again as the sound of heavy boots and light heels made their way together. 

“Coriolanus!”His name is yelled down the hallway. “No. No, I won’t go!” 

Tigris’s screaming interrupted Mabel's banging. The noise was too much for Coriolanus, whose temper flared once more. 

“The bag is in the end room.” he seethed to the remaining Peacekeeper who took off at his command. 

Mabel screamed Tigris’s name, thinking her friend was in danger. 

“Shut up!’’ Coriolanus screamed down the hall. 

“I won’t go. I won’t leave Mabel. You can’t do this!” It was hard to hear her over Mabel’s incessant banging. 

“Please, don’t do this, Coryo. This isn’t you.” 

Tigris stills at her own words. The war-torn boy was no longer there. She wasn’t sure if the child she raised was still in there. 

The same blue eyes that used to cry with her out of hunger now glared back at her. His father's eyes. Full of hate. 

The Peacekeeper returns with the bag and gently places a hand on Tigris’s arm to lead her to the door. She goes willingly, too dazed to resist. 

Grandma’am kisses him goodbye, shadowed by the young Peacekeeper holding an impressive amount of bags given the small time frame. 

He is left alone for the first time in the Snow Penthouse. 

Mabel continued pounding the door. She was screaming but her words were muffled and Coriolanus’s ears ringed with his own consequences. 

He had got everything he wanted but it has cost him everything he had. 

The shattering of something caught his attention. He sprints to his locked bedroom door, and bangs back against the door, bringing his face up to the wood so she could hear him. 

“You hear that, Mabel? It's the sound of your only friend leaving.” 

—-------

Reaping day was finally here, and Coriolanus felt the most nervous he had ever been. Even the day of the Plinth Prize, or the first day as a Peacekeeping grunt. This was much worse. This was a situation that he couldn’t crawl his way out from. It depended entirely on Mabel. 

She took all day to prepare to the Capitol’s standards. A team of beauty technicians came around and spent hours waxing, shaping, styling, and dying. 

The Reaping was at noon and the team had been working since eight getting Mabel ready. It was well worth the effort. Her natural features were enhanced, her curls fought into submission, and the treatment on her olive skin left it glowy and smooth.

 He caught her looking at herself on reflective surfaces.

 Her dress was a plain black halter-neck dress that reached her ankles. A large white, satin bow skewed over her hip, tying together in a large bow on the opposite side. It pinned her dress together so there was a large slit that allowed for the viewing of her fine legs. Even in heels, she only reached Coriolanus’ shoulder in height.

She certainly looked the part, but could she act it? Coriolanus could tell she was worried. Her fingers fiddled with her bow, and her attention was hard to keep.

It was a big day for her, and her family. Any trouble and they were to pay the price. 

Dr. Gaul was to arrive soon. The servants stood along the wall, waiting. Mabel sat on the couch while Coriolanus paced in front of her. 

“Remember, always refer to her as Dr. Gaul. Don’t speak unless spoken to, and no backchat. Mabel, no backchat.” 

To Coriolanus’s surprise, she gives him a nod instead of an eye roll.

As if summoned, the doorbell rang and a servant was quick to attend it. 

Her small frame haunted the doorway. No longer in her lab coat, Dr. Gaul wore a maroon pantsuit that widened her broad shoulders. 

“Dr. Gaul.” Coriolanus greets but is ignored as Dr. Gual makes her way to Mabel. 

Dr. Gaul looks Mabel up and down, seeming to approve by the end of the inspection. 

“A pretty bird,” she said to no one in particular. 

Mabel’s lips pressed together. 

“Dr. Gaul, would you like a drink?” Coriolanus tries to take her gaze off Mabel. They were a team today, and Coriolanus would try and protect Mabel as much as he could. 

His tactic worked, turning Dr. Gaul from the young girl to the servant with the tray. 

All too quickly, Dr. Gaul turns her attention back to Mabel, extending her gloved hand. 

“Dr. Volumnia Gaul.” 

Mabel reaches out and accepts the handshake. 

“Dr. Gaul, I have heard lots about you.”

Dr. Gaul's eyes quickly flicker to Coriolanus before resettling on Mabel. 

“Not as much as I have heard about you, I bet.”

The Panem national anthem is heard from the television. It was the perfect opportunity to usher the pair towards the lounge and away from the conversation. 

They stand as the anthem plays. Coriolanus could barely breathe as time was swallowed by the song. It was a minute and 16 seconds of free time and Coriolanus was grateful for every second. 

All too soon Lucy Flickerman appeared on the screen and the pair followed Dr. Gauls' lead to sit. 

Servants hovered over them offering food and drink but Dr. Gaul kept careful watch of Mabel who sat, hidden by Coriolanus. 

“I am surprised at your composure, Mabel. Today must be hard for you.” Dr. Gaul provoked. 

“Not since I turned 18.” Mabel leans closer to Dr. Gaul, and Coriolanus has to refrain from yanking her back. 

“I’s rather hopeful today. Adelaide Bennet owes me money and it’s her last chance to get picked.”

Dr. Gaul smiles back at her. 

“Well let’s remain hopeful then.” Dr. Gaul returns to the television as the presenter makes his introduction. 

Mabel leans back in her seat to watch the ceremony and Coriolanus takes the opportunity to lay an arm across her shoulders to stop her from leaning forward again. 

The tributes were picked and then called on stage to be asked questions. It was a terrible idea. Most just cried or just stood there. Coriolanus made a mental note to scrap it next year. 

Dr. Gaul who normally loved to watch the dismay of tributes, shuffled in her seat towards Mabel. 

Coriolanus motioned for the servants to serve more drinks. Trying to distract any further conversation between the two. 

“Are you enjoying the Capitol, Miss Mabel?”

“Yes. I love this apartment.” Mabel quipped. Coriolanus dug his fingertips into her shoulder. 

Dr Gaul grinned at her backchat. “Well, I suppose you haven’t seen much beyond the bedroom walls.” 

Coriolanus could feel Mabel flinch under him. She had hit a sore spot but Mabel put on a brave face. 

“Is there much more beyond that?” 

Mabel and Coriolanus shared the same philosophy of never letting anyone see your weakness. 

It impressed Dr. Gaul. Coriolanus watched her from the corner of his eye as Dr. Gaul revels in all that is Mabel. 

“Whoa,” Mabel exclaimed, wanting nothing more than to switch topics, “That’s a clear winner if I ever saw one.” 

The man on the screen was large. Coming from District 2 where they trained to be victors. 

“Hmm,” Dr. Gaul agreed. 

“The interviews were a bad idea,” Coriolanus comments, trying to hide Mabel from the attention, “Prescott only has bad ideas. Why do we let him contribute?”

“Because Prescott’s father is a large contributor to the Games. We all make sacrifices for the good of the Games.” Dr. Gaul returns. 

“We also need the presenters to act more lively. Make it interesting.” 

Coriolanus engaged Dr. Gaul with further adjustments to the Reaping as long as he could while Mabel sat silent and beautiful. 

Coriolanus got nervous the closer the Reaping got to District 12. Mabel was already cracking. 

When she saw her home, would she hit a breaking point? What if she saw her family in the crowd? Could she keep her composure? 

District 4’s interviews finished and the camera shifted to District 5. 

“Mr. Snow tells me you used to wash Peacekeeper uniforms.”

Dr. Gaul had no interest in the Games. The focal point of the evening turned to Mabel. She seemed unphased, drinking liberality. 

“I did.”

Mabel takes a sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving the television. 

“I heard you had quite the reputation back in 12.” 

Coriolanus wanted to interject, to somehow change the conversation to himself but he knew it was the wrong move. Dr. Gaul would only push further if he tried to change directions. 

“Yes, I was quite the washer.” 

He was sure that was it. Mabel’s tongue would be in his hands by tomorrow.

To Coriolanus' surprise, Dr. Gaul began to laugh. A deep chuckle that turned her away from Mabel, and hunched her frame into itself. 

Her hand reached back out once she was done and patted Mabel’s knee. Mabel ignored it but her grip around her glass tightened. 

“You must come to see my laboratory one day, Mabel. Put my experiments to shame.”

Coriolanus felt a swirl of pride go through him. Dr. Gaul was jealous of his pet. 

“You’re asking the wrong person, Dr. Gaul,” Mabel says, ducking her knee from the woman’s hand. 

“Coriolanus,” Mabel directs, “What do you think?”

She had passed the ball back to him, unable to front the fire from Dr Gaul. He could kiss her for it. 

“Maybe, if you are well-behaved enough,” he replies. He takes a sip of his own drink, noticing it was untouched. He too, had to seem unbothered. 

It would never happen though. He would create as much distance as he could between Mabel and Dr. Gaul’s laboratory, He hated it himself. Mutated creatures put on display in glass cabinets. 

Sometimes when he was forced to go there the sound of screaming deafened him. Some were clearly animals, but others seemed too human to dismiss. 

Dr. Gaul began to laugh again, this time letting her company see the thin lines as they appeared on her face to accommodate her laughter. She looked odd smiling. Coriolanus preferred her when she was angry. 

“Oh!” Dr. Gaul crooned, “You’re good at games. I wish I knew that before I let this go on. Maybe you could have helped.”

Her attention was back on the television, and her usual dissatisfied expression was back on her face. 

A District 9 boy was called up on stage amongst the silence

. 

“Yes, this year is far too gloomy to inspire Capitol glory,” Mabel gibbed. 

“Glory?” Mabel piqued Dr.Gaul's interest again, “Is that what you think the Games are for? Capitol glory?” 

Her tone conveyed she thought it was the wrong answer. 

“I think glory does more for Capitol order than sending children to fight to the death ever will.”

“And what does it do?” Dr. Gaul pushes. 

“It reminds us of our place.” Mabel was happy to end the conversation there, and Coriolanus tried to assist her by ordering the avoxes to serve lunch. But Dr. Gaul kept pushing.

“Which is?”

“The losers,” Mabel conceded. Her words sent shivers down Coriolanus’ spine. 

“We lost the war, and we’ve been in limbo between death and the afterlife ever since. Our lives became yours when the war ended. The Capitol’s toys. When you glorify the Games, it reminds us of that, more than the actual Games itself.” 

“My! I want you on the team next year” Dr. Gaul declared, “It took Coriolanus the loss of his lovely locks and a summer as a Peacekeeper to even come close to your conclusion.”

Mabel turns to him, now coming to the realization that he was Dr. Gaul’s pet as much as she was his. 

Dr. Gaul quietens as she eats the delicate food, meticulously prepared.

District 11 was halfway through their interviews. Coriolanus wondered if it was too late to drop his sleeping powder into Mabel's drink.  He could convince Dr Gaul that she had too much to drink. It would embarrass him but surely less than what he knew was to come. 

It would only reflect poorly on his training skills, but Mabel could keep her tongue for only a little bit of Coriolanus’s pride. 

It was too late, District 12 spread across the screen, and both women were no longer interested in conversation. 

“Here’s hoping for Adelaide, Miss Mabel.”  Dr. Gaul raised her drink, and Mable nodded back. 

The presenter in 12 is sluggish as he reaches for a card in the cage. Mabel looked in the crowd for her family. 

“Vera Woodsmith.”

“Ah,” Dr. Gaul mocked, “Don’t worry, Mabel. There’s other ways to get Adelaide.”

“Far be it for me to mess with fate.”

“Is that what you call it? Dr. Gaul brings her glass to her lips, but her thin smile hinders her ability to drink. “Coriolanus?” she adds. 

She was not in the habit of calling him by his first name. It shot shivers down him. 

“I don’t believe in fate,” he mutters, “Only power.”

On-screen the presenter tries to interview Vera Woodsmith but she cannot be heard over her own tears. 

The Peacekeepers take her away when she wouldn't stop wailing and the man draws the name of District 12’s male tribute. 

Coriolanus hoped it would be a past lover of Mabel’s. One less person to hold the memory that Coriolanus had fought so hard to have. 

“James Irkle”. 

The camera follows the boy as he makes his way to the stage. Shoulders up and tense, hands clasped together. His shoes were falling apart as he walked. The sole of his boot as it stuck to the hard gravel could be faintly heard over the silent audience. 

He couldn’t have been one of Mabel's past lovers. The boy was too young, barely 12. But she gasped upon his name as it was drawn.

Mabel shoots up before Coriolanus can stop her. 

“Someone you know?” Asks Dr Gaul. 

“He’s my neighbor's child,” Mabel eyes watch as the child makes his way up the stage steps, “He’s just a kid. Surely someone will volunteer.” 

She watches expectantly but no one rises. 

The presenter continued, lowering the mic stand to the boy's height so he could answer questions. 

“You can stop this.” She turns back to Coriolanus who tried his best not to let his panic show. 

“What would you have me do, Mabel? The name has already been called.” 

“Change the game, isn’t that your job? Make a new rule that it’s between 15-22. You’ll get more viewers.” 

“I am only interested in one viewer right now.”

“Coriolanus, please. He is just a boy. A good boy.” 

“Not the first good boy to die.” Dr. Gaul pushes Mabel a step too far. 

“Shut up.” Mabel snapped. Everyone knew it was the wrong move, but in her anger, she failed to catch herself. 

Dr. Gaul rose from her seat, and Coriolanus followed, unsure of what the unpredictable women planned to do. 

Dr. Gaul raised her hands as if she was going to reach out and touch Mabel but her fingers curled inwards. 

“If I could just get my hands on you.” 

“I am afraid you’re at the back of a very long line.” Mabel quips. Coriolanus wanted to reach out and cover her mouth before she could do any more damage. 

“That line keeps you safe.” 

Mabel throws her hands out, laughing humorlessly as she spins.

“Look around and you tell me how safe it has kept me.” 

Dr. Gaul smiles once more, giving Mabel one final look over before turning back to her successor. 

“An hour, Mr. Snow. I would have your bird singing an entirely different tune.”

A wave of shame overtook Coriolanus. He had failed. He was so close only to have Mabel crack at the last second.

Dr. Gaul leaves Mabel, finding a new victim in Coriolanus. 

“It looks like you still have work to do. I’ll leave you to it, Mr. Snow.” 

She pats his sore shoulder as she passes him. A shoe follows her, narrowly missing her shoulder. 

Dr. Gaul looks back in shock. She had never been bitten by an animal before. 

“Child murderer!” Mabel works on undoing her other heel and manages to pull it back to launch it before Coriolanus can restrain her. 

Dr. Gaul watches as Coriolanus wrestles Mabel to the ground, keeping a firm grip on her wrists, pinning them to her chest as he keeps her tightly against his.

A full belly laugh erupts over the sound of Mabel’s screaming. Under Dr. Gaul's stare, he wished for nothing more than to turn to ash. It reminded him so much of his father’s stare. Or at least from what he could remember. It paralyzed him like it did when he was young. 

He still felt frozen as he watched Dr. Gaul head for the door. Even when the servant closed it behind her, it offered no closure for him. 

His rage, however, slowly returned. 

“Get out. All of you get out!” He demands. 

Mabel had stopped screaming and started crying. He doesn’t release her. His fingers froze around her wrists, his shoulders would not unstiffen nor his legs untangle from hers. 

He wasn’t sure if he was holding her for her own comfort or his own. All he knew was that he couldn’t let go. 

Mabel had done far worse than he could have anticipated. She had piqued Dr. Gaul’s interest. If Mabel merely angered her, the course of action would be apparent, and it left her as the property of Coriolanus at the end of the day. But Dr. Gaul’s interest had a possessive grip. How far would she take it? Would Mabel be left one of those creatures trapped in the laboratory? Could he protect her from it? 

For the first time, Coriolanus felt a pang of guilt for having taken Mabel in the first place. 

He had plucked a flower from its stem and now it lay in his hand, slowly dying. 

tag list;

@bruher

@hiatuswhore

@swimmjacket

@immyowndefender

@namelesslosers

@lovelymoonkiid

@queenofshinigamis

@acidaciruela

@briefwinnerpersonaturtle

@tian-monique

[just-jordie-things]

Hiiiii I love all your writing sooo much !!!!!!!!! Pls can you do No.26 with Yuta I am so obsessed with him rn..... the brainrot is too much

i'm obsessed w/ jealous kisses in party settings 26: Jealous Kiss **aged up characters!!** **cw: yuuta calls you a slut but it's in a hot way. also it's not full smut but this is smutty asf. i got quite carried away. this shit is delicious. ___

yuuta is so friendly. it was something that had attracted you to him when you first met, the way he'd gotten you both lost in conversation like you'd been old friends, how polite he was, you were drawn to him right away.

but you're realizing now that you were not the only recipient of this kindness.

"you're gonna break that cup"

you jolt from your frozen stupor, turning to look at yuuji, before looking down at the red plastic cup in your hands. it crinkled in your grip, parts of it jutting out at sharp angles that could snap the plastic if you kept it in the vice of your hand.

"oh" you mumble to yourself, relaxing your grip, before throwing back the drink and swallowing the bitter alcohol hard.

yuuji's eyes widened in astonishment at your bold displeasure. he'd come over to you because you were hanging out by yourself, and this was a party, so he thought he'd come keep you company. but as soon as he was within a few feet of you, he could practically feel rage emanating off of you in thick waves.

"you uh... you okay?" he asked as your jaw locked up, your teeth gritting together roughly.

you turned towards the pink haired boy again, your features brightening as you gave him a pleasant smile along with your attention. but the smile didn't reach your eyes. they remained hard, an anger buried in them that yuuji didn't understand but was frightened by.

"course i am," you say, your tone as chipper as your fraudulent smile. "it's a party"

you take another swig of your drink, yuuji's eyes following the jerky movement with concern.

"you just seem, uh, a little upset," he says, raising a hand to the back of his neck nervously. "did something hap-"

"you wanna dance with me?" you ask him suddenly, before he can finish his question.

he blinks, eyes wide in surprise, but yuuji's a good friend, and he supposes his intentions when he came over to you had been to make sure you were having a good time, so he nods back at you with a smile.

not needing more confirmation than that, you grab him by the hand and drag him into the living room where the music is the loudest.

coincidentally, you strut right past yuuta and whoever the chick was that he was talking to. you don't pay him any attention as you brush right past him, towing yuuji behind you, right on display.

you do, however, feel his eyes follow you as you walk off. they burn into the back of your head, but the sensation fades away quickly. you assume the glare is being targeted at your new dance partner, now.

yuuji's fun to dance with. you're kind of surprised when it turns out he actually has a sense of rhythym, and he also seems to know all the songs blasting through the speakers, singing along with glee while he twirls you under his arm and spins you around.

you've never really let loose like this, but your jealousy had mixed beautifully with the alcohol in your system and dancing seemed to be just what your body needed.

your hands run up your body, into your hair, throwing it to the top of your head before letting it fall as the beat you're feeling yourself to drops, and you even find yourself singing along with yuuji.

and poor yuuji, he thinks he's doing you a service with his company. he'd just thought you were bored at a party, and as a good friend was happy to dance with you if that's how you wanted to enjoy your time. he has no idea that when you press the front of your body into his and throw your arms around his neck that you're pretty much putting a mark on him. he thinks you're enjoying yourself! he thinks you're feeling the wonderful music of shakira as you grin up at him and roll your hips from side to side.

sure maybe he should have found the sensual move a little out of character for you, but it's shakira! and he can't argue that hips don't lie is a beat you just have to roll your body in tune with. so sure, he's matching your movements with his hands on your waist.

but his intentions are nothing but respectful! and honestly, yuuji's having genuine fun with you. he's never seen you so carefree before, you were always the reserved upperclassman he'd honestly been a little afraid of when he first met you. like maki, there was a confidence about you that told him you could be a force to be reckoned with. so to him, he was happy to get to know you better.

unbeknownst to him, yuuta was across the room with something buzzing through his bloodstream that he could only describe as violent. he didn't know yuuji all that well yet, but he didn't feel like he needed to know more than what he was seeing right now.

and right now, his girl was grinding her hips against yuuji's, while her hands carded through his undercut and then into the longer strands of pink hair.

when this little performance first began, yuuta tried to pay it no mind, and continue the conversation he'd been having with a girl from the kyoto school, but eventually his attention just couldn't be torn away from you, and he had to apologize to her before she walked off to the kitchen for another drink.

he'd remained glued to his spot at the wall with the other non-dancers and people trying to mingle, watching your every move as you danced with yuuji like you thought that was okay.

yuuta's not a possessive person- of course not! you weren't exactly his, perse, but he knew you had to admit that the lingering touches and longing eye contact had meant something. he knew that you knew there was something more than friendship between you- and now here you were twirling yourself under yuuji's arm, and pressing your back to his chest.

his last straw should've snapped long before now, but the slow drag of your hips, and ass, against yuuji was just far too much, and yuuta's moving before he can think through what he's even going to do when he gets to you both.

you turn again, throwing your head back as you belt out your favorite line of the song, and you miss the way yuuji's face is flushed from just how loose you'd let yourself become, because over his shoulder you see the holder of the attention you really craved coming towards you in fast strides.

your eyes meet over yuuji's shoulder, and you slither your hand across the back of yuuji's shoulder blades just because yuuta's clearly watching you now, before you turn your focus back to your dance partner.

you give him a wide grin, taking note of his pink cheeks and nervous smile.

"thanks for dancing with me," you say, still rolling your hips to the beat. "but i'm parched, so i'm gonna go"

yuuji nods back at you, and you stand on the tips of your toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek before heading off through the crowd. your eyes lock on yuuta's from across the room before you're heading for the stairs. he picks up his pace to follow you before you can escape from his sights.

the boy you left is standing still on the dance floor, completely lost by what had just happened, but hey, he wasn't complaining.

"you know you're gonna die, right?"

he jolts as he turns around, seeing maki behind him, nobara giggling under her arm.

"w-what?"

"yuuta's going to kiiil youuu~" nobara drunkenly sing-songs, sending maki into a fit of giggles too.

meanwhile, once you're upstairs, you're pushing into the first open door you can, finding yourself in the bathroom. you barely had time to catch your breath from your eager dancing before the door is swinging open again. not to your surprise, yuuta's entering the bathroom, too.

"yuuta!" you gasp in a mock-scolding tone, although a smirk of intrigue curls on your lips. "i could have been peeing!"

the door's shutting behind him with a swift kick of his foot and the loud slam make you jump a bit. however the slam of the door is nothing compared to your surprise when yuuta's towering over you, grabbing you by the waist in a fast, rough movement. your breath hitches in your throat, which is what makes you squeak when he's pressing you back against the sink's counter.

"what the hell was that?" he mutters in your face, and he's practically glowering down at you, but it's making you weak in the knees.

he's so close to you that your senses are flooded by him, the smell of his cologne and the rum on his breath wafting in your nose, and you have to fight to keep your eyes focused on his.

"what was what?" your voice lilts as you tease, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

it's safe to say he doesn't find it cute, or maybe he does. either way, he's lifting you by your hips and planting you on the counter, only to pull you close to it's edge. and either way, he's man handling you, and you're falling for it.

moving like it's second nature, you rest your arms around his shoulders. you want to run your hands in his hair, you want to grab him by his neck and kiss him fucking senseless, but you don't. you're too curious to see just how riled up you'd gotten him by dancing with yuuji, and so far you quite like where it's going.

"you know exactly what i'm fucking talking about" yuuta snaps back at you, his hands grabbing you by the thighs, tugging you again until you're chest to chest, your legs hooked at his hips.

you want to catch your breath, but you'd have to take in heavier breaths, and you don't want to give him the satisfaction of making you pant so easily.

"i don't think i do, yuu," you feign confusion as you peer up at him from under your lashes. "but you must've followed me for a reason"

you tilt your chin up at him as you present him with a sweet smile that he wants to wipe off your smug face.

his hands grip tight at your thighs in an attempt to channel his anger, but as he leans into you, only to stop before giving you what you wanted, he can't help but run them up your legs and back to your hips.

a small whimper dies in your throat as you try to tilt forward enough to kiss him, but one of his hands snatches you by the nape of your neck, drawing you back before you could be successful.

your brows furrow as you pout.

"you grind on yuuji and expect me to kiss you?"

you smirk up at him with pride.

"so you are jealous," you muse. "i wasn't so sure,"

yuuta's fingers twitch and flex against your waist.

"yuuta, i would've happily danced with you," you tell him, fluttering your lashes again, just to be a tease, just to remind him again of why he was really here. "but you were so busy with that girl, and yuuji was there, and, well, he was more than happy to keep me company-"

"if you don't stop fucking talking about itadori i swear to god (y/n) i'll-"

"you'll what?" you ask breathlessly, your eyes glittering with excitement, and mischief. your pupils are blown wide as you stare up at him, and goddamnit you're so pretty when you're acting so needy for him.

yuuta hates this game, he really, really does, but if he gave in to you this easily, how would you learn your lesson?

"so what, i talked to one person and you think it's okay to be act like a slut with the underclassmen?"

"you were being a slut first" you mumble back pathetically.

"well for the record, that girl was asking for maki's number. she's gay," yuuta tells you, and now your face feels hotter than before, because that little piece of information made this whole thing a little embarassing. maybe more than a little. "and while we're on that record, you're not allowed to dance like that with anyone. ever"

he mutters it into your ear, warm breath fanning over your neck in such a blissful sensation that you're shutting your eyes and rolling your head back lazily.

"okay" you breathe out, compliant to any instruction he had for you.

"and after this, you're not going to talk to itadori for the rest of the night" yuuta says, ghosting his lips over the side of your neck.

despite trying to keep some of your resolve, you can't keep your hands from grabbing his shoulders, gripping onto them for dear life.

"okay" you repeat, your chest rising and falling as you try desperately to catch your breath that you hadn't had control of since you'd gotten to this bathroom.

"you're going to stay right with me for the rest of the night, since clearly you need someone to keep an eye on you"

he punctuates his last rule by pressing his open mouth against the side of your throat, kissing and sucking at your skin slowly. you hum through a soft moan, feeling your heart beat in your ears at the new sensation.

when yuuta deems the mark on your neck warning enough to itadori and the rest of the party-goers that had watched your little display of a dance, he pulled away.

your hooded eyes meet his for only a moment before he's slamming his lips into yours. you both moan at the sudden impact, and your hands finally grab at his neck, pulling him further, further against you until your legs are crossed at the ankles around his hips, and he's making you lean back with how his tall stature towers over you.

between heated kiss you're panting for breath, moaning in pleasure as the tension that had been growing between you finally, finally snapped. one of his hands is tangled in your hair, keeping your lips firmly on his, not that you'd ever pull away from his intoxicating mouth, and the other is pushing up the hem of your shirt so that he can grip the bare skin of your hip.

he bites experimentally at your bottom lip, smiling to himself with satisfaction as you moan into his mouth, your hips stuttering up against his. he rolls his tongue over the now sensitive plump of your lip before he's pulling your hips into his again, grinding into you shamelessly.

"yuuta~" his name rolls off your tongue in a moan so pretty you have him whimpering into your mouth, before he's reaching to tilt your head back so he can deepen your kiss further.

yuuta licks his way into your mouth with abandon, dominating over yours before you could even try to return the favor. he maps out your mouth like he's a lost man, and when he pulls away, there's a lewd string of saliva connecting your mouths.

he takes a proper look at you now, at your rocking hips, your heaving chest, disheveled hair, swollen lips, and finally, when you open your eyes, he thinks your blown pupils and heavy eyelids have him at another loss of air.

you give him a lazy, drunken smile, before you're fisting the material of his shirt to pull him in close again. you prod your nose against his before giving him a long, slow kiss. your hands relax against his chest, before smoothing down his abdomen. you just barely ghost over the bulge in his pants before he's pulling out of your kiss and tugging you against him before your hands can wander further.

you pout up at him prettily, and he can't believe what he's about to say.

"not here," he mumbles into your mouth, before stealing a kiss. "later"

you whine into his mouth as you chase his lips before he could go too far. you're making it hard on him, that's for sure, but this whole thing started because you clearly get a kick out of making him suffer over you, so this shouldn't come as a surprise to him.

"we should go back," he sighs into your mouth, sloppy kissing you with his open mouth.

your hands are pulling at the hem of his shirt, before they explore the skin underneath. he's shuddering under your touch, and it takes a great effort to remind himself of why he can't hook up with you right here in this bathroom. who's house was his again?

your fingertips drag over every inch of his skin as you nibble playfully on his bottom lip. he hums in pleasure at the feeling, understanding now why you had seemed to like it so very much.

did he lock the door when he'd come in here?

"fuck- okay- we have to-" he tries to the best of his ability to pull his lips off of yours, but they're addicting. rum and cherry flavored, soft, hot. "baby- we have to go back"

you sigh in irritation, but ultimately give in as you lean back, your back hitting the mirror behind you. yuuta's also huffing as he begrudgingly pulls his hands off of your hips.

you look at each other for a minute, taking in the other's swollen mouth and blown pupils. you both know if you leave the bathroom like this, everyone will know exactly what happened.

(you forget that the love bite he'd left on your neck is damning evidence enough)

your legs are shaky when you finally slide off the counter, but yuuta's arm is a firm presence around your hips as he pulls you out of the bathroom, keeping you completely tucked against his side.

it seems all of your peers' eyes are on you as you both make your way down the stairs. the rest of the party is in full swing, but those who know the both of you follow your movements with wide eyes and open jaws.

you pay them no mind, whispering into yuuta's ear to let him know just how much you'd like to dance with him now. your lips brush his earlobe before you plant a kiss at the spot on his neck just underneath it. yuuta agrees to the offer instantaneously.

however unbeknownst to you, his eyes are focused on a certain pink haired boy that was staring right back at him.

yuuji swallowed nervously while yuuta let you press a sweet trail of kisses down his neck, blissfully unaware of yuuji's watchful eyes- you were blissfully unaware of anyone in the room. the younger boy could see the red and purple mark on your neck and he'd known exactly that it's purpose had been served as soon as he saw it.

he was quick to find megumi and leave the room to hang out in another part of the house. he was too afraid of the warning looks yuuta would send him while he danced with you.

but of course you were happily lost in the feeling yuuta's hands on your hips as he followed the push and flow of your body rocking to the beat.

and poor yuuji spent the rest of the night thinking he was hiding from yuuta, when in reality the two of you left that party after only one dance, feeling your tension would be better released in the privacy of your car. ____

a/n" y'all i got CARRRIED AWAYYY JESUSCHRIST also i can't write smut i'm too awkward at it but if anyone wants to make a smutty second part to this or their own smutty rendition of this PLS do and PLS tag me bc. like. i need it now. i had hips don't lie on repeat for so long while i wrote this bc it was just too good for the move and the tension.

xoxo ~ jordie

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Freebie!!! With good vibes and cookies 🍪🌟

You ordered a spicy chicken wrap and some ice water with lemon, but he wasn't satisfied until you were actually eating. Once he was mollified, he let himself pay attention to his own meal. He had a million questions.

But- he had to tread carefully. It made him feel like he was trying to coax a feral cat. Or disarm a bomb. Two things he'd never been good at. Still, he knew two things now he didn't know before. The kid was healthy and the date of your next appointment.

And you hadn't sent him away. He'd also never seen you eat anything spicy before. Maybe the kid liked spicy food. Or maybe he just never paid attention. "What else are you doing today?" he asked.

"Thought I'd try and get some cleaning done. Try and get some writing done. Take Trigger to the dog park," you answer, pushing a stack of napkins at him when his burger starts to fall apart.

"Thanks- Figured you'd want to go shopping. Get some baby things," he ventured.

You shake your head, "I don't- next week," you tell him. "Had to pay mom's allowance early to keep her over there."

Logan felt himself frown reflexively, "Wade throw in his share?"

You shrug, "You know how it goes. It's not like being Marvel Jesus comes with steady pay. But I have some freelance money coming and- well. It doesn't really matter. It's not-" You break off and shake your head, "I'll figure it out. I always do."

"Y/N," he said, cringing when the growl in his voice made you pull back. "It's not just you that did-"

"You made it pretty clear you didn't want this, Logan," you murmur, looking out the window. "Before I even knew what was happening."

"And if I could, I'd-"

"But you can't," you tell him. "And how am I supposed to know you won't just-" You shake your head and slide out of the booth, leaving your half-finished plate on the table. Stalking back to the ladies room. Hoping he won't follow. Not right now.

Fuck. He scrubbed his hands over his face and gulped down his drink, signaling for another to show he wasn't leaving and followed you. If diplomacy wasn't doing it- if words were going to keep getting him in trouble- it was time to try something else. He was just glad the bar was dead.

_______________

He opened the door carefully and found you leaning on the sink. Griping the counter so hard your knuckles were white. And he spun you around, hefting you up as he reached behind him and locked the door.

"I'm a fucking idiot," he growled, claiming your mouth in a kiss that burned his lips as he pushed your knees apart to stand between your legs. "I panicked like a stupid kid," he said, pulling back and resting his forehead on yours, giving you space to tell him 'no'. "I thought it would be better for you if I walked away from you. And now every time I look at you I can't fuckin' breathe."

He can hear your heart. He can smell tears welling up. But your hands are fisted in his shirt. And he rests his forehead on yours. "Listenin' to you tell people this ain't my kid- that you don't know who their daddy is," he huffed a laugh. "Fuck. I know it doesn't hurt as bad as what I did but- it's a gut punch, Princess."

"I'm so fucking mad at you," you tell him, voice breaking. "And I'm so fucking scared."

"Hey," he breathed, cradling your face in his hands and wiping tears away with his thumbs, "shhh." He kissed you again, more gently this time, "I'm not goin' anywhere, baby. Okay? I'm gonna show you that. I just need you to give me one more chance."

[bedtimescenarios]

Hii! You asked for prompts to stay motivated, so I thought I'd share my all time favorite as a possible request?

I'm a SUCKER for an injured whumpee who's incredibly scared of the caretaker, not understanding that they just want to help them! Maybe they lash out or try to run away and have to be held down to receive the medical care they desperately need, with the caretaker trying to comfort them as best as they possibly can... You know?

/nf of course!! Have a great day!!

This is my first time requesting whump stuff, I hope I'm doing everything right aaa

hey there, anon!! thank you so much for the prompt:) it's actually helped me get to writing, and it's even a bit different from my usual stories, so i had an opportunity to diversify my writing!!

i hope you like this and that it fits the prompt well enough, and thanks again!

p.s i am supposed to be sleeping and have written this at 2 am. if there's any mistakes in there or something that needs to be re-done please let me know😭

. . .

As the door swings open with a squeak, Whumpee instinctively presses their back into the wall and lowers their head. Whumper must have had a bad day, otherwise he would've let them heal before another session. They're not getting that luxury now, they think, as the wounds on their body throb and sting with the reminder of their situation. They prepare themselves. They unclench their jaw so they won't bite down on their tongue, shifting so their knees are facing outwards,- they'd rather endure another leg fracture than be nauseous all week- and they tightly shut their eyes.

"Whumpee?"

The voice that rings out is different.

They don't raise their head, but they hear the person's next footstep resound closer. Another one is their cue to cower, pressing an arm against their bleeding abdomen. Did Whumper send someone else to hurt them? Oh, God, he sent someone to finish them off. He got bored, they're finally going to die, or worse-

"Whumpee, I'm not here to hurt you." The voice says, as if reading their mind, and Whumpee takes note of the apparent gentleness of it. A trick.

They look up through the fallen strands of hair stuck to their forehead, trying to assess the amount of danger- no, pain- they're about to be in. A man stands a few feet away, and they quickly identify him as the owner of the voice. Fuck, he's strong, Whumpee thinks as they notice his buff, tall build. He could break their wrist bare handedly, without much effort. Their eyes slowly trail up to his face, noting the short, dark dreads pulled back into a ponytail that ensures an unperturbed view of his surroundings. Increased efficiency and a boost in fun. I can pair your screams with clear images, Whumper used to say.

Caretaker's obsidian eyes meet Whumpee's, and they imagine him saying that same thing to them. They ignore his manipulative attempt at an empathetic, pitying glance. Having been through this too many times already, they can recognize it from a mile away. They just want their break, at least until their wounds close. And they won't let this random stranger take it away from them. Their gaze hardens slightly, yet it's still tinged with raw fear.

"I'm Caretaker. I won't hurt you, I swear- Just- Whumpee, we need to get you to a hospital."

Another lie. But... taking them to another location? No, no no no. Whumpee's hand clenches around their wounds. Another lonely gathering of walls where their screams will echo for eternity. Whumper is giving them away for good. They're so, so tired. Death suddenly doesn't sound as bad.

Alarms blare inside Whumpee's mind, turning their world to hues of red. They feel their veins burn with adrenaline, and before they know it, they're on their feet, scratching at Caretaker's face. They use all their strength, a final attempt at freedom- one way or another. Like a wounded rabbit scratching at the fox whose jaw is clenched upon its ears.

They expect a hard blow to their temple. Or the sharp prick of a syringe. But nothing comes, except for pressure pulling their hands away from the man's face. As they're pulled away, writhing in the grip, they internally swear at themselves for omitting the possibility of backup. Only when their arms are held firmly to their sides is it that they notice themselves trembling, and only when the two people next to them lower them to their ground do they realize how much of an effort each move is. How much pain each shift brings.

As the people behind them hold them still, hands quickly shuffling through a first aid kit, they can finally make out Caretaker's expression. Beyond bloody streaks, his face is painted with genuine shock- or simply incredible acting. He doesn't step forward again as Whumpee sobs in terror, their eyes glassy and breathing labored. Though, if they look closely enough, they can distinguish tears at the corners of his eyes too. He tilts his head, and the corners of his mouth turn upwards softly.

"Shh...It's okay. We'll make you all better, and you'll be able to trust again sometime."

[six-eyed-samurai]

HEHEHEHEH >:3 all im saying is rindou x popular!reader? like bratty and full of herself. REGINA GEORGE. REGINA GEORGE READER. but not actually

SORRY IF THIS IS CONFUSING I JUST WANNA KNOW WHATYOU THINK AND IF YOURE WILLING TO WRITE IT OK LOVE YOU MWAH MWAH MY WHIPPED CREAM ON TOP OF THE PERFECTLY WARM HOT COCOA WITH THE SMALL BUT REALLY TASTY MARSHMALLOWS <3 (almost typed mushrooms LMAAOO)

A/N: PLEB MY BELOVED TERIYAKI PEACH I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG YOU ALREADY KNOW MY EXAMS AND SHIT BUT RAAAAAH ALSO I NEVER WATCHED MEAN GIRLS (the number of people about to murder me rn) SO I HOPE I'M ACCURATE, PLEASE ENJOY IN RETURN FOR THE VIP I LOVE YOU TO PLUTO AND BACK (Did someone say mushrooms? Well, I am a fun-guy- get it? GET IT?!) WARNINGS: Swearing and breaking the fourth wall. Nowhere says the Haitani brothers attend high school, but nowhere also says they don't, so here they do.

🌸First of all, let this be known that the one and only Haitani Ran came up with that title and is responsible for the whole story below (or so he claims, because I did about 80% of the work typing this out).

🌸Anyways.

🌸You meeting each other was probably inevitable - the Haitani brothers the head delinquents of Roppongi, you the literal head of every single popular girl clique.

🌸Do you hit off at once? Absolutely not. You made a very cutting comment about Rindou’s hair, even after your terrified girlfriends (minions) warned you about who he was and similarly Rindou called you a wannabe with fake Prada and your makeup was smudged.

🌸What a great start to a friendship! From that day onwards every time you both caught side of each other it was snarky jab after snarky jab at each other’s hair, clothes, shoes, speech, grades, lunch, anything you both could think of.

🌸Rindou hates you because you’re just such a prissy, spoilt princess brat with hella nice hair. You just hate him because who does he think he is to insult your fashion taste? So what if he’s a total bad boy delinquent? What about it?

🌸Ran thinks it’s hilarious. Rindou cannot not talk about you even when you’re not around, even if it’s just the repetitive complaints of your usual petty annoyingness, and gee, Rin-Rin, are you really that obsessed with them that you even still think about what colour their nail polish are in the middle of a fight? It’s almost worth missing a nap, Ran decides, when he can record Rindou spluttering out protests and declarations that you’re the ugliest, nastiest girl he’s ever met.

[Ran turns the camera to his face] I think my brother is a kindergartener afraid that girls have cooties. Sigh, he was supposed to be the more mature of the two of us.

🌸Even your traitorous girl clique were shipping you both! Even after you told them to shut up! Ugh! You don’t need them to stalk out his socials, you don’t need them yammering about how you always greet him in the corridors (”Did a dog shit on your shoes, Haitani?”), you don’t need them taking pictures/photoshopping you both together. Just, ew.

🌸Once again, so what if both your rivalry was turning into a…really weird obsession?

🌸You were pretty sure you hated Rindou with a burning passion, but one day you caught yourself studying your figure in the mirror, judging - judging?! - your own outfit by his standards: what sort of comments would he make this time? Is he going to jibe that you had finally found a skirt shorter than you? Are you actually wondering if he’d like it?!

🌸You CANNOT be seriously breaking one of the sacred rules of no pink on Wednesdays right now either just because Rindou had once made a muttered remark this being the only thing that looked good on you.

🌸Rindou was quite certain as well that if he could, he’d run a bus over your snobby ass but…here he was, cringing at whatever made him stop by the roadside asking if you needed a ride home since it was raining. Not because he cared or whatever. He hoped you got soaked to the bone sitting on the back of his motorbike. And that your hair gets messed up from wearing his helmet.

🌸You treating him to the boba cafe that nearly opened the next day was also strictly returning a favor so you didn’t have to owe your biggest nemesis. In fact, HE should owe you for making you wash his stupid jacket that he had forced you to wear that night as protection from the storm.

🌸Rindou sasses you right back, but yes, he supposes he owes you another drink. And another. And another. And another.

🌸At this point it’s so obvious the only reason none of you have admitted you’re practically dating already is because of your egos and reputations.

🌸That is, until one day when you’re strolling home by yourself and scrolling on your phone to scoff at Rindou liking your latest photo, A FEW DAYS AFTER YOU POSTED, you’re cornered by several members of a gang with a grudge to settle with the Haitani brothers - what better way to do so than to target Rindou’s girlfriend (see, if they were targeting Ran, they’d have to target every girl in the neighborhood, playboy that he is).

🌸Now you might be a prissy mean girl but that don’t mean you can’t kick ass physically. One of them made the stupid mistake of trying to grab your arm and EW, WRECKED YOUR NAILS? You slapped him pretty hard for that…and the rest too, with your new handbag, which made you even more pissed off, because hello, that shit was designer?!

🌸Also, congratulations, you've managed to make them all extremely self conscious while unconscious with your jibes about their appearances.

🌸Unfortunately that can't help you when more of them show up and you're outnumbered. At least you're going out with a bang…but not in the way you think when Rindou’s motorbike suddenly plows through them, engines revving, an irritated expression on his face.

“The only one who gets to piss my girlfriend off is me, so hands off.”

🌸Most people would've thanked him once he was finished knocking them all out but you immediately start berating him for taking so long in arriving.

”You really took your sweet time driving here, so of course I just decided to head home myself! I didn't need you to accompany me!”

He rolls his eyes because if he ignores your ungratefulness he can see your fingers trembling as you picked the items fallen from your bag, evidence of you still being shaken up. This (bratty) behaviour was just your…coping mechanism? Or maybe just typical you. “Then how'd you get surrounded so easily?”

“How was I to know people wanna beat me up today?!”

“You know what, stuff it and get on the bike. I'm taking you home whether you want me to or not.”

You stuff it and get on the bike. Rindou only uses that tone when he's worried.

🌸Aaand then it's only when you're on your doorstep do you realize what he had said.

🌸Rindou sees you frozen and raises an eyebrow. “What is it this time?”

“You called me your girlfriend.”

“So I did. You're not? Aren't we going on dates and everything? Sorry, “outings just between the two of us”?”

“We never talked it out or agreed on anything official!”

“I didn't know we needed to file a form and get a stamp of approval in order to go out.”

“OMG, you're so annoying I can't even - fine, I’ll…be your girlfriend. The moment you get a better haircut.”

…

“WIPE THAT SMIRK OFF YOUR FACE! Ugh, gotta go redo my makeup now.”

“Stop talking about my hair then, before you look at yours.”

He's still smirking as he leaves.

🌸So now Rindou has not one but two divas in his life. He can't decide which of you is the lesser evil, because on one hand he has Ran killing his wallet with all his dye jobs and on the other you're demanding his wallet for that new pair of heels he's pretty sure will break in less than a day.

🌸What are dates like? You dragging him off to clothing/shoes/jewelry stores, mall dates where you empty him of all cash on dessert and boba, going to the latest trending cafe while you judge everyone around you, spill all the gossip at school and naturally, talk about yourself (Rindou secretly eats your cake and zones out when the last one happens).

🌸If you've seen that reel of someone digging a hole in their cake to secretly reach the other person's cake…you know what Rindou does now.

🌸However both you and Rindou's favourite kind of date is when you're just driving around aimlessly in your shiny sports car with the wind blowing through the windows and the only fights are over your music choices: popular ones from Instagram (you) and whatever strikes Rindou's fancy.

🌸Has Ran attempted to gatecrash your dates and plead to drive your car? Absolutely. Have you let him? No. It's one of the few things you and Rindou agree on.

🌸You can be pretty annoying with that full of yourself attitude, “camera eats first!” mindset and double meaning words, but it's only annoying because Rindou has to go clean up your messes and apologize - apologize - to whoever was dumb enough to incur your wrath lest you get into trouble (for the millionth time). You'd never admit it, but you'd stopped directing any of that bxxchiness at him a long time ago.

🌸For anyone that did something wrong to Rindou though? Hell hath no fury like a woman with an ego bigger than Jupiter and a protective instinct for her man.

🌸If Japan has prom, you both would be crowned king and queen. If someone's hosting a party, you both would be the ones rocking the dance floor. If any of this happened, it's because you forced Rindou and he can't say no, however much he grumbles.

🌸First kiss was probably during some heated argument in front of everyone and Rindou claims he only instigated it because he wanted to shut you up. You reveled in the gossip that came with such a scandalous affair but yes, he took you very aback with the “Because I love you, dumbass?!”

🌸(Ran recorded everything and posted it on his super secret fan account following his favorite crack ship, the two of you.)

🌸Rindou doesn’t strike me as the jealous type. He KNOWS, however full of shit you are, you ain’t going to leave him for any of those losers just staring at your ass. To him they’re just minor annoyances, like flies - bothersome, but easily dealt with. Besides, who’s crazy enough to take THE Haitani’s girlfriend?

🌸You don’t get jealous much either, or so you claim. It’s quickly proven false whenever you snap spitefully at any girl who dares to lay a manicured hand on him - you won’t even tolerate your own girlfriends. You’re proud of the fact he’s so attractive, but that makes you even more possessive, because some deep, dark, insecure part of you is afraid he’d leave you for a similar girl, because surely there’s no difference between you and them. Just petty, bratty, arrogant mean girls.

🌸”I’m just going to get this tattooed on you, because for the hundredth time, sweetheart, I’m not going to leave you for some airhead bimbo. You’re more than just a face, and yeah, you really need to get off your high horse sometimes, but I’m still here, aren’t I?”

🌸The sappy moment is ruined when you sniffle and slap him lightly for making you cry and ruin your mascara. Rindou sighs (how many times has he sighed throughout this piece of writing already?)

🌸Average conversation between you and Rindou:

“I’m not surprised he got beat up with that kind of hair…is he trying out a new style from the slums?”

“Mhm. Couldn’t even throw a punch properly.”

“I bet you put him in his place, bae.”

“I’d kill myself if I didn’t.”

🌸And if the person in question overhears?

“Oh…we were just, you know, discussing your ah, state of hair. Bad hair day? Thought so.”

“That black eye really goes well with it, don’t you think?”

“Now that’s why you’re my boyfriend.”

[burningcheese-merchant]

BurningCheese Ficlet for y'all

I'm planning to take a break from AO3 for a little while, because I wrote 4 fics in 4 days and my head hurts. (I don't usually write anything this fast, but when I'm truly inspired, I'm a man on a fucking mission lol)

Here's a relatively short fic for you guys to enjoy while I'm gone. It's wholesome (for once). Hope whoever reads it enjoys it, whether they like this ship or not

Post-canon (technically), Burning Spice is no longer a threat to anyone, he's just an asshole who's down bad

"Hm? Golden Cheese eyed the envelope being handed to her critically. "And this is...?"

"For you," Burning Spice said. "It is a romantic holiday today, is it not? Is this not what couples do for one another in celebration?" "I don't recall us ever being a couple, Mr. Burning Spice," Golden Cheese muttered, crossing her arms and giving him a look. "So I'm not sure what possesses you to want to celebrate a day not meant for either of us." "You possess me, my little thief. That is all the motivation I need." He returned her look of annoyance with a look of cool confidence, giving her a flirtatious smile. "Regardless, why do you shun a heartfelt gift? Are gestures of admiration such as these not what you like to receive from others?"

"They are," Golden Cheese said, "But I can't imagine whatever you've brought to me being 'heartfelt'. In fact, I didn't realize that word even existed within your vocabulary before today." He chuckled at her little jab, much to her own furthered annoyance. "You wound me, pretty bird. Why do you judge me for my appearance? Why don't you read this and see for yourself what I am capable of?" "It's hardly your appearance. I've encountered far more brutish beings than you who turned out to be bigger sweethearts than Pure Vanilla." She sighed. "But... fine, very well. If you went to this trouble, I suppose I can entertain it this once." "Yes... please do, my little thief." His smile grew bigger. "Entertain me."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but otherwise did nothing to challenge him further and took the envelope into her hands. It was surprisingly fancy; adorned with intricate little patterns that she recognized to be commonplace in Wild Spice artistry. When she opened it, the smell of spice reached her nose, causing her to sneeze. Burning Spice chuckled again, and she shot him a disapproving glare. He gave her a look of endearment, his eyes twinkling with mirth and mischief. He did not speak, but he did not need to; she knew exactly what he meant by that face, for he'd given it to her before, along with the words meant to describe it. You're so adorable when you sneeze.

Not wanting to encourage this sentiment any further, she turned her attention back to the envelope and pulled out the letter inside. A pale reddish-orange, scented with nutmeg and tumeric. The words were written with black ink - in quite good handwriting, much to her surprise. A very quick skim told her it was a poem. She brought her eyes back to the very top and started again, reading it diligently, word for word:

"You flaunt your beauty in the rose, your glory in the dawn, Your sweetness in the nightingale, your whiteness in the swan. You haunt my waking like a dream, my slumber like a moon, Pervade me like a musky scent, possess me like a tune. Yet, when I crave of you, my sweet, one tender moment's grace, You cry, 'I sit behind the veil, I cannot show my face'. Shall any foolish veil divide my longing from my bliss? Shall any fragile curtain hide your beauty from my kiss? What is this war of thee and me? Give o'er the wanton strife. You are the heart within my heart, the life within my life."

Golden Cheese's mouth hung slightly agape by the time she finished, her face hot and cheeks flushed so red that she was certain it could be seen even all the way back home. "Burning Spice," she began. "I..." "You...?" he asked back, clearly enjoying the look on her face far too much. She stood silent for a moment longer before she collected herself. "It's... this is lovely," she said. "I don't know what to say. I... I truly did not think you were ever capable of something like this." "That's alright, pretty bird. Your eyes say enough." Oh, if only that blasted smile of his would fall away already. It was making her feel even stranger. "You and your people aren't the only ones with silver tongues in your mouths."

She hadn't been insulting the Wild Spices earlier, she had been insulting him - but even so, she had no choice but to admit her folly. "Fair enough," she said. "I was wrong to judge you so harshly. If I may gift you with something in return, it's with me saying that this would fit in among the works of my own kingdom's finest poets." "Would it, now? Such high praise, coming from you," Burning Spice purred. "But I'm afraid I'd rather you gift me with something else." "Oh?" She tilted her head at him. "And what would that be?" He answered her by coming closer, closer, until they stood toe to toe and his face was not so far from hers anymore. "I think you know," he said. He cupped her chin. "Or shall you let a veil divide us any longer?"

At this, Golden Cheese said nothing. She only let him tilt her head up gently, and her eyes flutter shut, as he leaned down and captured her lips with his own. Burning Spice kissed her sweetly, tenderly - so unlike what she expected of him, such a feeling and taste she never thought she'd find within spice like his. He licked at her lips, soft but still forceful enough to be noticed, politely asking for entry - and she obliged him, parting her lips and sighing into their kiss as his tongue slipped into her mouth and caressed her own. She felt a hand touch hers, rough fingers ghost against her skin, and she obliged him again, taking his hand into her own and lacing their fingers together. When they parted, he lingered there for a little while longer, their now half-lidded eyes locked and foreheads touching. The fire that always burned so bright in his eyes was now brought down to a smolder, reminding her more of the warmth of a fireplace than a scorching inferno. She could still feel his breath, taste it: hot and spicy, a shock to her senses. But... it wasn't so bad. It wasn't bad at all, actually. ...But he didn't need to know that. She'd fed his ego enough for one day.

"My little golden thief," he purred. "I thank you. Your gift is as lovely as mine." "...You're welcome," she murmured. "But... don't expect any more like it." "I won't," he said, that familiar sharp-toothed smile creeping back across his face, "Just the same as you expected me to give you something crude and mediocre." Her eyes widened and her eyebrows shot up in surprise, both at his words and the little jab hidden behind them. She opened her mouth to retort - but he cut her off before she could by kissing her again. Lightning fast, but still hot and rough, stealing the breath from her lungs. When he pulled back, that godforsaken grin came back in full force, stretching from ear to ear. "See?" he asked playfully. She chose not to respond this time, instead only huffing at him. Such audacity need not be dignified in such a manner. (And it wasn't because she had no real rebuttal to give him. Really. Honest.)

He gave her hand a squeeze before letting it go and stepping back again, giving her back her personal space. "Well, then," he said. "I shall give you one last gift by allowing you to enjoy the rest of this day on your own terms." "How kind of you, Burning Spice," Golden Cheese said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Once again, you surprise me with your words and actions." "Golden Cheese..." He turned his back and peeked at her from over his shoulder, his eyes burning bright once again. "I intend to keep surprising you as many times as you'll allow." With that said, he turned and began walking away. She watched him leave with her arms crossed, staring daggers at the back of his head as he left. Finally, she was free. No more of his nonsense; she can bask in light and peace again.

And yet, his parting words still rang in her ears. "I intend to keep surprising you as many times as you'll allow." Just where did he get this brazenness from? Wherever he cultivated it, she wanted the earth salted and burned. After everything that's happened, after her granting him a goddess's mercy by allowing him to continue existing in her life after all was said and done, and he repays her with this never-ending foolishness? Well, she could commend his stubbornness, if nothing else. But this time was a step too far. This was the first Valentine's Day gift she's ever received from him, and it shall be the last. Next time, she will turn him away without remorse. Won't she?

She turned her eyes back to the paper in her hand. To the beautiful envelope that had housed it. To the poem inscribed on the page, that serenaded her without making a single sound. Golden Cheese, against her own better judgment, brought the poem back closer to her face and read it a second time. When she finished, she tucked it back into the envelope - carefully, so it wouldn't tear. And then she sighed. ...No. No, she won't.

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

The poem here is "Humayun to Zobeida" from the poetry collection "The Golden Threshold" (bet you know why I chose a poem from there lol), all written by Indian poet Sarojini Naidu. Please check it out if/when you can, her works are lovely and you can read them for free online (also a lot of the poems give me BurningCheese feels, especially "To the God of Pain")

Y'all let me know if you enjoyed this, I thought of a sequel and I'll write and post it if you want

[lvlyghost]

One Last Time

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader.

Summary: You and Ghost go on your first mission since your break up.

Word Count: 1k

Tw: angst, hurt with very little comfort. suggestive themes. ghost being cold hearted. reader's call sign is starlight. not proofread 👻🌸

A/N: Finished this in one sitting lol, just couldn't stop thinking about it so forgive me if it's all over the place, i totally didn't write while listening to champagne problems🫶🏻✨💞enjoy

Masterlist✨

The sun's starting to hide on the horizon, casting pink and orange shadows against the concrete walls of the abandoned building you're currently hiding in. You sort of wish you at least had your earphones. Anything to help you swallow the tense silence that's fallen between you and Ghost.

Both leaning against opposite walls, waiting until it's safe enough to go out and reunite with your team. You cross your legs, shifting in your place to a more comfortable position. The temperature slowly decreasing as the yellow burning star in the sky disappears. You didn't mind Ghost's presence. You liked him. And he liked you too; perhaps way too much for your own good.

But not after what happened.

Not after that night –12th of June–, just one week ago. When he had decided that this –your relationship– had no future. And it hurt like hell. Your ever present smile faded when you came to his barracks ready to spend another night under the covers, admiring each other. You loved him it physically pains you. He had greeted you with that stoic face of his, grabbed you gently by the arm and pulled you inside only to break your heart.

Ghost pulls his mask over his lips to take a sip from his canteen, you divert your gaze not liking what his mouth reminds you of.

You don't get to see him anymore. Not in the way he only let you. You don't get to hear his deep chuckles, or how his chest rumbles when he does. You can no longer have the pleasure of touching his pale features; or feel the stubble that adorns his jaw under your hands. Never again will his hands travel down your body nor hold you when you have a nightmare. Shared lunches at the cafeteria with the team.

Maybe it all became too much in the end.

What were you supposed to say, to do now? Act as if nothing happened? You swallow. Your heart is beating fast so you force yourself to breathe deeply.

"You okay sergeant?" He finally asks, staring straight to you. Ghost's right arm resting atop his leg, the other one splayed in front of him. The intensity of his gaze never leaves your form.

"Yeah. Just tired, Lt." You lie. Because you're not tired at all. you're heartbroken.

"Sleep then." Ghost barely does so it feel almost selfish to do it.

"I'm fine." You murmur, looking everywhere but at him.

"Look at me when I speak to you." Your eyes snap to his. Wide-eyed you fight back an insult. How dare he? "I'm still your superior out here." So you wait. You wait for him to break first. Had you been paying attention to his demeanor for the past week; you would've noticed the cracks on his façade. No one knew like you did.

But you refused to look at him ever since that Friday night. "Whatever happened that night it stays there. Don't bring that shite here."

"With all due respect, Lt." You pause feeling the tears welling in your eyes. "Shut the fuck up."

Silence falls again. Ghost's hand balls into a fist, jaw tightening so hard you can hear the bones crack as an overwhelming press on his chest settles. He had never meant to hurt you, but things were getting too serious, you were getting too close. He couldn't afford to have something like that; Ghost knew what it meant to let someone too close. And he broke that rule. You plagued his mind, his space and feelings.

Too bloody close.

"That all you've got, kid?" He ask firmly. "Try again. I'll give you another chance. Thought you more than anyone would understand."

You're shaking. Astonished by his words. The pain is unbearable. You laugh with no emotion.

"What am I supposed to understand, Ghost?"

"Why it can't be."

Shaking your head in denial you stand up, not thinking about the consequences, too enraged. Ghost is quicker though. Jumping from where he was sitting he grabs you by the straps of your combat vest and yanking you down with him. His nostrils flare from underneath the balaclava, eyes boring into yours. His visceral reaction sinks deep inside.

"There's a potential sniper out there. You trying to get killed?" He hisses through gritted teeth.

You slap his hand away from your vest, yet you don't move away from where you sit between his legs.

"Thought you didn't give a shit about me."

"You're bloody blind if you think I don't care about you."

"You don't!" You bite back. "If you cared for me in the slightest you wouldn't have tossed me out like I'm a stranger! Like nothing we went through ever mattered to you." His body goes stiff as you keep talking. "I loved you..."

Ghost can't bear the way you tremble in his arms, watching you sob. In pain. Because of him.

"I told you not to get close to me. I knew from the beginning I'd hurt you... not because I wanted to. I don't know how to do this. I wish I could be better for you, but I can't, it's all I've been my entire life. My biggest regret is that I started to care for you somewhere along the line; and when I realized, it was too late." He pauses. "Forgive me." The words echo in your ears, paralyzing your entire limbs. "I know you're hurt," he whispers your name. Not your callsign. Your real name. The one he adores to call you when he's buried deep inside you, and you cling to him like he's everything. "I don't deserve you, not even the smallest part of you." He holds you closer, you're still not looking at him, the weight of his words... it's too much.

"It was real, Simon." Your voice is soft and very quiet. "All this time it was real to me. Just because you were afraid..."

"I am fucking scared!" He yells. "Can't bloody see it?! If I lose you...-" you look up at him, mouth agape forcing as much air as you can inside your lungs. "How do I make it right?" He questions. "It was real to me too. Too fucking real."

As angry as you're feeling, broken and betrayed you bring a hand up to his pained features, lifting the mask so you can feel his warm skin again. Ghost's eyes are frantic, waiting for you to speak.

"Let me in."

Staring in the pitch black darkness, silence reigns yet again.

One last chance, that's all you need.

"Ghost, Starlight, sitrep." When no one answers the radio crackles again. "Hostiles coming your way, get ready."

[stranger-opinions]

maybe it's not a writers-block; maybe you just need a break

creativity is a muscle, right?

you need to exercise it to keep it in good shape, to have it ready when you need it and don't we all love those hyperfocused sprints of writing where the words just spill out of our fingertips...

but muscles get sore when you overuse them, will strain when you force them past their limits, they need nourishment to stay healthy and in shape

fandom today has a competitive atmosphere. many wouldn't admit that; it's supposed to be fun after all. just vibing with our mutuals, playing with the blorbos having a fun time online to scratch a few itches.

but the truth is that it can become a lot of pressure rather fast.

putting out several k of (edited) writing a month, setting up painstakingly formatted posts with the right tags and a fun header we spent hours on to look effortlessly cool and eye-catching just to hit post and then feel... nervous. excited too, sure...

but damn, when will the next chapter be finished? or the next one shot? will there be enough time to put a few blubs in between so that the few people who actually seem to care won't forget about us and move on?

writing for writing's sake is a nice notion. the myth of the self-sustaining artist who needs nothing more than a passion and their tools of choice.

but shit isn't just created out of nothing.

what has that all to do with the title of this post do you ask?

very few people can just keep going and going making art like that without needing any breaks and a good portion of those people very likely have very different conditions than most of us have with full-time jobs, families, school and so on.

For many of us writing is a main outlet, an important hobby and a safe space but that still doesn't change that it is a creative hobby, an outlet that demands energy: emotional, mental and physical (typing for hours is hard work if you want to believe it or not) and that sometimes makes it impossible to accept that we just need a fucking break.

"writers-block", in my own experience, is my brain telling me that something is off and that it's on strike until I fucking fix that.

and sometimes it's just that I need a break.

that I need to recharge my creative batteries, take in things that inspire me, that make me happy and get me excited without having to make anything myself. to just be. take some walks amongst trees, watch a new series, read a new book, go into a deep dive of some random topic on wikipedia until I don't know where the fuck I started from.

sometimes I just need to log out, cut the overstimulation of a never ending dashboard, turn off what everybody else on tumblr is doing, how much everbody is putting out, get away from my frustration about "my flopped fic" or the latest fandom drama and reconnect with the real reason I am doing this.

the love for stories and the source material.

for some people those breaks can be as short as two days, for other is might be weeks or months and that is not only okay but totally normal.

sometimes you might realize that the reason you are not writing is that you actually don't want to. sometimes you just want to daydream without the extra work sometimes you're just not in a writing mood and it's not much deeper than that.

that doesn't have to mean you're done with your blorbos. it just means that there are more valid and fun ways to play with them.

don't worry, the fandom will still be there when you decide to pick up the keyboard again. maybe with less people, maybe with many different people but you will always find someone who cares. those who have moved on to different things not come back wouldn't likely have stayed if you had powered through.

fandom shouldn't be a you're in or you're out thing but a place you come to when you want to.

contentification of fandom has had a lot of negative effects on the way we create and so many people fade from their hobby because they simply burn themselves out to a point where it leaves a scar.

so. find something that makes you happy that does not require you to invest too much creational energy. rest those muscles as long as it takes.

nothing you can get on tumblr or ao3 is worth the sore brain, the frustration with yourself and the stress you add onto your mental health ontop of everything else in your life.

recharge, reevaluate, reconnect

have fun

[hearteyes4hobi]

ADORE ME, HOLD ME AND EXPLORE ME ♡ (kmg)

juno- sabrina carpenter

"adore me, hold me and explore me mark your territory, i'm so fuckin' horny"

"cant help myself, hormones are high. Give me more than butterflies"

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY

a/n: GUYS THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT AND FIRST TIME WRITING A ONE SHOT IN GENERAL IM SCREAMING I'VE BEEN WANTING TO DO THIS FOREVERRRR. i hope you don't hate this, but remember i am new to this!!! be nice plz...i am open to feedback and would love to hear what you think :) my asks are open for requests, comments, questions, or anything always. i listened to juno so much this happened and i am so sorry im ovul*ting

warnings: breeding kink, lots of cum, they fuck on a car sorry, all porn no plot, reader squirts, outside kinda, pure filth tbh, hints of future baby

wc: 982

When you first started dating your boyfriend Mingyu, you both agreed it would be a couple years before you would even think about having children. Being young and in love had its perks and you didn’t want to spoil it with a newborn just yet. It isn’t until you see Mingyu outside with the hood of your car open and a bag of tools on his waist that makes you consider dropping everything to have his children. The way his honey golden skin was damp and glistening in the sunlight had you completely thoughtless and drooling. You felt some sort of carnal desire flow through you that can only be blamed on your ovulation cycle and maybe Mingyu’s huge biceps.

“(y/n) can you come help with something really fast?” you hear Mingyu shout from outside and you drop everything to see what he may need. Walking towards the car, you see him smiling mischievously.

“How can I help the cute mechanic today?” you say to him teasingly. He looks heavenly, he has grease on his forehead and all over his clothes, but he’s never looked more attractive to you than at this moment. God damn hormones.

“I just wanted to see your face, plus I saw you staring at me and figured you’d love an up-close view better.” He replied smugly with a huge smile on his face.

“I can’t help myself okay, my hormones are high lately. Plus, my boyfriend is too goodlooking, what am I supposed to do?” you say as you hug him tightly, being overly affectionate.

He squeezes you tightly and picks you up off the ground slightly.

“Aw baby, what am I gonna do with you? Distracting me while I’m working isn’t very nice. Gonna have to fuck you dumb to get you calm down now, aren’t I?” Mingyu whispers in your ear seductively.

“You look so sexy out here working, Mingyu.  You might have to put a baby in my belly to truly satisfy me.” You whine while looking into his darkening eyes, daring him to make a move. Mingyu quickly grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in for a deep kiss. You immediately put your hands into his hair. Not wanting to spend too much time kissing, you needed him now. You begin sliding your hands down his chest, all the way to the button of his jeans.

Breaking the kiss, Mingyu mutters, “you vixen…can’t ever have enough, can you? I thought I fucked you well last night, but you always want more. Such a greedy whore for me, is that it baby?”

Already feeling dumb and fucked out listening to his filthy words, you nod in agreement, letting the arousal take you.

“Gonna fuck you right here on the hood of the car, bet you’d love that huh (y/n)?”

You whine out loudly as he bends you over onto the hood of the car. The feeling of the hot metal on your skin burns with desire and anticipation for what will come. You suddenly feel Mingyu's fingers making their way to your center, pulling down your underwear, he adds two fingers into your cunt and ruts them into you making you scream loudly.

"So loud for me baby, guess you want the whole neighborhood to hear how well I fuck you." he growls out at the sight of how wet you are. It's almost picturesque how well your pussy glistens in the beaming sunlight. The squelching of his fingers is getting louder and louder as you near your climax.

“M-more Mingyu, need more, I’m so close” you manage to croak out.

“See, such a greedy whore, (y/n) can never be satisfied with what she has,” Mingyu tugs at your hair as he readjusts leaving your cunt empty and prods your entrance with his cock. “Here baby, gonna fuck you so full and give you that baby you want,” He stammers as he enters you slowly, rocking back and forth. As he bottoms out, his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“I love the way you fit, never want you to leave,” you whine as he enters you fully. You swear you’ve never been this horny ever in your life. Being bent over the hood of his car is doing things to you, and you swear you could cum at any second. You begin to move as to signal to Mingyu you are ready. He begins drilling into you like a dog in heat. “I’m gonna cum, fuck I’m so close baby.. please,” you croak out as he fucks you into oblivion.

“Yeah angel? Gonna let me cum inside you? Your pussy is begging for my cum I can feel you milking my cock every time I speak, you drive me crazy.” Mingyu lifts one of your legs onto his shoulder and begins rutting into you deeper and faster. After a couple more thrusts you feel your climax rising. Suddenly you’re hit with the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had. You see stars and feel euphoric.

 “Holy fuck baby,” Mingyu growls and you realize you squirted all over the hood of his freshly clean car. “That was so hot oh my god,” he states in disbelief and begins hammering into you even harder to chase his climax. “Almost there angel, you did so well, put on a show for me and everything.” All it takes is a couple more thrusts and Mingyu is moaning your name as he is pumping you full of cum. “Gonna make sure you’re stuffed full, don’t let it fall out baby. Wanna see you all big and full carrying our baby, yeah?”

You kiss Mingyu as he finishes riding out his high. Both of you are so full of love for each other you truly can’t wait for the future together, and who knows, maybe having two of you isn’t such a bad thing after all.

[topherwrites]

FIC RECS: OUTER RANGE, OUTER BANKS, STRANGER THINGS

If I made a little comment about every single fic or series here, it would be inhumanely long, so I've refrained from doing so and have just put the summaries for each. This is split into two parts, TGM fics and everything else.

I hope that anyone who reads this list finds something that they love on it just as much as I do! If I missed you, I'm sorry, there was a lot to sort through!

SOME OF THESE ARE 18+, PLEASE HEED THE INDIVIDUAL WARNINGS!

RHETT ABBOTT

Yellow Soul by @creatchie8

Trapped in a relationship with your high school sweetheart Perry is like a never ending nightmare of always stepping on eggshells. One winter break changes everything as you are reintroduced to his younger brother, Rhett. Looking for an escape, Rhett provides the perfect shelter you crave.

right where i want you by @sushiwriterhere

Standing there, staring at the cotton balls in the trash, some part deep inside of you decides that it’s now or never with Rhett.

Odds are Stacked by @sunlightmurdock

In which Rhett loses a bet and you lose your virginity.

Wayfaring Stranger by @/sunlightmurdock

Betrayal sends Rhett veering further West, searching for answers and searching for himself. Instead, he finds you.

Much Love by @southpawbitch

you & rhett have found yourselves in a little fwb situation despite the fact that you have a fiancé.

About Last Night by @delopsia

A self-indulgent take on Rhett's best friend coming back to Wabang and surprising him after his final rodeo.

Dancing Beneath the Moon by @/delopsia

How is it that your heart only longs for the ghost of a cowboy? And why do you get the feeling that his heart utters the same for you?

Closing Time by @youvebeenlivingfictional

“You’re having a helluva night, huh,” You comment. “S’that supposed to mean?” “You got a shit bull, then you struck out with that girl…And you failed to bait Luke Tillerson into trying to kick your ass.”

RAFE CAMERON

Untouchable by @boneblushed

It is crucial that the head boy and girl of Kildare Academy work together. Too bad the head girl is you and the head boy is Rafe Cameron.

Glitch by @/boneblushed

Rafe has a bad fall on the ski slopes. A temporary amnesiac, he falls in love with you all over again.

So Gorgeous It Actually Hurts by @/folkloreslovechild (deactivated)

childhood enemies to lovers, the slowest of burns, an unbearable amount of pining, both parties in heavy denial for like 90% of the fic, Rafe’s a total douchebag but he can’t help it (you’re gorgeous).

Euro Trip by @/folkloreslovechild (deactivated)

europe summer trip au!

new light by @outerbankies

you come home from college to spend your last summer before senior year in your hometown of the outer banks. an old friend hits you up wanting something more, and you begin to see what’s really been there all along.

You Belong With Me by @forevermoreharrington

Rafe’s fallen helplessly for his dream girl but she just doesn't see it yet.

tis the damn season by @atlabeth

When your roommate Rafe lies to his family that the two of you are dating, you agree to go home with him for the holidays to help sell it as his fake girlfriend after a generous bribe. It's just three weeks in the Outer Banks with one of your best friends -- what could go wrong?

Armour by @probably-writing-x

Having your heart broken was one thing. But Rafe watching somebody break your heart? That was something nobody could prepare for.

So We Won't Forget by @netegf

you meet rafe cameron at a grief support group while he struggles with the loss of his father. he's trying to be a better man, and you can't help but love him for it.

Hate It When You Leave by @/netegf

you are trying to cope with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with your best friend. He's trying to cope with the fact that you don't go after the things you want… including him.

I Know I Am by @bookofbonbon

For Rafe, it's always been you. He's just waiting for you to realise it too.

STEVE HARRINGTON

redamancy by @sanguineterrain

redamancy (n.) - the act of loving someone who loves you back; a love returned in full // or, four times you kissed Steve Harrington, and one time he finally kissed you back.

dancing with our hands tied part i | part ii by @taintedcigs

in which steve is in love with his best friend's ex.

EDDIE MUNSON

Pearl by @cacoetheswriting

a story about two kids trying to navigate through love and loss, inevitable goodbyes, various reunions, friendships and hardships, joy, heartbreak, plus surviving the upside down - all to the sound of Janis Joplin's Pearl.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Okay so I recently went through a break-up so I'm a thirsty gay guy looking for some content and you're my absolute fav on this app :) Could you (if you wouldn't mind of course) write about a hero who has fallen over heals for a villian with low self-esteem who doesn't realise he isn't all that bad and was forced into this life? Maybe with some cuffs just for the spice😅 Preferably mlm but I'm a sucka for the person who won't stop flustering their crush by over complimenting them😭

"Well," the hero said. "Here we are again."

The villain looked up at the hero, standing over them. His hands were already cuffed behind his back, and, honestly, he was feeling thoroughly dishevelled. It had all happened so fast. He'd lost so fast.

The hero barely had a perfect hair out of place. He hadn't even broken a sweat! It seemed very unfair.

The villain half expected to already hear police sirens in the distance.

"You know," the hero said, hands on his hips. "I'm starting to think your heart isn't in this scary criminal thing."

"What, because I'm crap at it?" The villain wanted to sink into the floor.

"Mm, no. You're very good at it, actually. I think you just don't want to hurt me." The hero flashed them a smile. "Thank you for that, by the way."

The villain looked down at his knees and away from that smile, from his failure. He tugged at the cuffs.

His powers, such as they were, were the explosive kind. He could detonate buildings and the ground where the hero stood with a flick of his hand, obliterating the large majority of his opponents immediately...providing he didn't actually mind obliterating them. Killing them.

He was supposed to be fine with that. Didn't he used to be fine with that? The villain's jaw clenched.

"It's not an insult," the hero said, a little softer. "I don't mean it as an insult. Compassion - kindness - is an admirable quality. You know that, right?"

"Are you taking me in or not?"

"No."

The villain's gaze snapped up, wide-eyed.

The hero crouched down in front of him, putting their faces level.

The villain swallowed. "No?"

"No," the hero said, oh so casual. "Don't think that would do you any good."

"Lunatic asylum, then?"

The hero smiled, faint and crooked and something unreadable. "No."

The villain's brow furrowed. Surely that didn't mean...the hero had never seemed the type to kill. The villain tensed.

"You're remarkable," the hero said. "Smart. Powerful." The small smile grew a fraction. "Gorgeous."

The villain hated the immediate and unstoppable blush that burned their cheeks at that; like each kind word, each terribly sincere piece of flattery was its own bomb going off somewhere in the villain's body. "So you're...keeping me locked in your basement?"

The hero laughed. He sobered a little at the villain's expression.

"No," the hero said. "God, no. I meant -" The hero bit his lip, and the villain's treacherous gaze followed the movement. The hero's eyes brightened. "No," the hero said. He placed a hand over the rabbit-thump of the villain's chest. "I mean that you have a kinder heart than you give yourself credit for. If you'd like to do something else with your life than - this - I would help you. In anyway that I could. I'd like to."

The villain stared at him.

"You're asking me to join you?"

"No," the hero huffed. There was something warm, fond, to his tone. "I mean, you can if you like, you'd be very welcome. But to do something else. Whatever you want."

The villain's head spun. "You don't think I want to do this? I've - do you - you do know who I am?!"

"I know your history, yeah."

"Then you'll know - you'll know that I can't just up and do something else!"

"Why not? You're certainly talented enough to try your hand at reinvention."

"I'm a killer. I am literally made for killing and burning and destroying things!"

"You didn't kill or destroy me."

"And I lost in all of three seconds for the weakness."

The hero considered him at that; his panting, fevered, broken defence.

The villain yanked at the cuffs, desperate to run, to get away from the look on the hero's face. From all of the hero's shining expectations.

"If that was it, you can uncuff me now." It sounded a little too much like please, please, please.

The hero settled back on his haunches, warm hand falling from the villain's chest. "What do you like about your current profession?"

"Are you serious right now?" Absurdly, suddenly, the villain could feel tears pricking his eyes. Frustrated things.

"Perfectly."

"It pays well."

"And that's what matters to you?"

"You've seen me, right?" By all accounts, the villain liked the finer things in life. A nice bespoke suit felt like some small compensation for everything ugly about the rest of them.

"Oh, yes," the hero said. His gaze roamed over the villain again. "Handsome, but not very happy, I don't think."

The villain's face burned all over again. "Stop it."

"Hm?"

"Stop - complimenting me. You're trying to distract me!"

"I can't just be complimenting you?"

"No!"

The loudness of it felt like a confession, and the villain squirmed. He yanked at the cuffs again, hard enough to hurt.

"Easy," the hero said, quieter.

"If you're not going to turn me in, let me go!"

"You really hate me complimenting you that much?"

The villain glared at him, the effect largely no doubt ruined by the distress coming off in waves.

"Huh," the hero said. "Because it's me or-?"

The villain yanked at the cuffs again, even harder. Blood welled up on his wrists. He could feel his breath quickening. He could -

The hero leaned in, and the lock clicked. The cuffs sprang open.

The villain was on his feet in an instant, several large steps between them, poised to bolt completely.

The hero stayed crouched, practically on his knees, hands raised in placating surrender in the air.

The villain gawped.

"Easy," the hero said again. "I'm really not trying to upset you. I didn't mean - I didn't expect that reaction. Are you okay?"

And the villain believed him, which was far worse, because what was he supposed to do with that? What the hell was he supposed to do with the hero's compassion? His smiles, and his compliments as if the villain was in anyway worthy of any of it.

"If you're embarrassed about being flustered," the hero said, "you don't have to be. You look lovely flustered. It's really endearing. I'm not-"

The villain covered his blushing face with his hands. He wanted to claw out of his flustered skin; find some control again, find a way to make the terrifying leaps of his heart settle. To stop hoping. To stop aching for - more.

"Shut up," he hissed.

The hero shut up.

The villain didn't get to have more. Not after everything. He certainly didn't get to have someone like him.

He raised his hands from his face, and waited for the hero to flinch at the threat of it, to betray the underlying horror of what the villain was, to brace himself for death.

The hero did none of those things. He simply continued to track the villain's movements - knowing who he was dealing with, but not afraid. Never afraid.

The villain's hands faltered again.

The world did not erupt in smoke and madness.

"Easy," the hero murmured, a third time. "Can you - can you explain to me why you're upset? So maybe I can help?"

The villain gave an agonised little scoff, and fled.

[wyn-n-tonic]

That's a Real Fucking Legacy: I Chose You

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/former Tommy Miller x f!reader Word Count: 2.6k+ Warnings: Unprotected PiV. Soft Joel. Talk of death. The gif is JUST a gif, there are NO descriptions of reader, it's just a visual reference of movement. Author's Note: Thanks for all the patience with this installment. I have been working very hard on DoYaM and fit in bits and bobs of other things where I can. Cannot fully convey how grateful I am for all the kind words, I really hope you like this, too.

Please follow @wyn-writing and turn on updates for notifications. You can sign up for my taglist HERE.

That's A Real Fucking Legacy Masterlist

Everybody said it was an accident, that it could’ve happened to anybody.

But it didn’t happen to anybody, it happened to him.

Stopped for a pick up at a site out in Colorado, Joel left you and the baby to finally contribute and pull his weight—to feel useful. He’s been itching for it this whole time, getting out there and working off the energy that’s penning up inside his chest. He said he wanted to partake in something other than just keeping your daughter at peace.

You didn’t tell him he’d be taking yours away, too. 

They were ambushed by another group, a bunch of men looking for food to take back to their women and children apparently. It was a fucking gun fight and if the blood on his shirt was just from a bullet, maybe this wouldn’t feel like having all the air sucked from your lungs.

Baby could sense it, too, the fear and devastation seeping through your body as they brought him back with another goddamn hole in his body.

He’s got plenty at this point, angry red and deathly white scars pockmarking his body like some kind of topographical map. 

That’s all it is, just another scar to add to his collection and reminisce about as you trace it in the darkness of whatever shared space you end up in.

Except, they’re saying this one might not scar.

It might not even heal.

All the things he’s done throughout these years, all the things he done to protect you—to provide for you.

That’s all he was doing this time, too, and it breaks you down all over again as you pull Baby closer to your aching, carved out chest.

Everybody you have ever loved has either left or been taken away.

Tommy’s hand lands gently on your shoulder but it might as well have been a goddamn hit with the way you pull away from him.

“What do you want?”

“I brought some food,” he whispers, setting down a small plate between where you’re sitting and where Joel’s body is laying. “And I came to check on you, see if there’s anything I could do for you.”

He pulls away when you look up at him, hands falling to his side like he’s been fucking burned. You know what you must look like—bloodshot eyes and hollow cheeks.

“Yeah, Tommy, you can fucking fix this.”

You watch as he swallows thickly, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as his eyes flicker from yours to his brother’s body and back. Not a day has gone by since he was brought back that you’ve left his side, doing your best to keep it together through every aching mile along the way to Jackson.

They look for medicine at every stop you make, coming up empty handed time and time again. If we don’t get to Jackson soon—to the doctor they have there—then he will die.

“I'm doing the best I can, sweetheart.”

“Don't you fucking dare call me that,” you tell him. Baby fusses in your arms like she can feel the hurt that’s heavy in your voice. “You were supposed to protect him, Tommy, you were supposed to bring him back to me alive.”

“He is alive,” he says, nostrils flaring as he points down at his brother. “He's right there, he’s breathing, and we are all doing the best that we can.”

Baby looks up at you, stung by the subtle anger that Tommy’s words hold. Her father may be trying to make nice with him, but you fucking won’t—you can’t. Not so long as he lays half clung to life next to you.

More words come at you—assurances and platitudes.

We’ll be in Jackson in two days.

They’re still looking.

He’s a stubborn piece of shit, he’ll make it through.

This is everything that he’s been afraid of this whole goddamn time. This is that fear come true that he’ll leave you or you’ll leave him or your daughter will leave you both and neither of you would survive that.

“Tommy,” you call his attention back on you as he turns. “I grieved for you,” you say. “God, I mourned and I wailed and I wept for days if not weeks or more.”

It’s like he’s understanding for the first time, truthfully understanding, as he stares down at your worn down body speaking all these fragile and broken words. Realization of just how much you hurt for him is dawning on him and he’s trying to give you more comfort, more words to say everybody will be okay.

But it won’t be true so long as your daughter is looking up at you with eyes that ask why your heart has stopped beating.

“I don't think you have heard me at any point that I have explained just what I feel for my family, Tommy,” you say. “I told you that I would’ve bled for you but that I would die for him so I really need for you to listen to me right now—if he goes, part of me will go with him.”

Jackson is like life before it stopped.

There is power here and children laughing.

There are babies and clothes and running water.

There are houses and furniture and trinkets and shops.

You haven’t been able to take any of this in, not really. Not when you’re walking around the halls of Tommy’s home like a ghost.

Tommy found penicillin after that night, came hauling ass into the room and injected his brother before you were even fully awake and registering what he was doing. Because, for a moment, you thought you were under attack. You though a runner had burst in and you couldn’t find the gun and this was the death you had feared beyond the walls—first Joel and then Thomi and then you. The last of those you love taken from you in the last moments that would make you welcome being ripped apart with open arms.

When you realized it was just Tommy, your heart half settled down and then you feared that maybe Joel had stopped breathing next to you. But that couldn’t have been the case because it was the shallow rise and fall of his chest as he fought against infection and the increasing cold that gave you any sort of hope or peace at all.

Joel woke up just as you made it through the gates of Jackson, one eye half cracked and already crying the moment he saw you next to him. Instead of going to the doctor, the doctor came to him. Modern medicine isn’t so modern anymore though, not the way it was when it all fell down. The penicillin likely wasn’t as potent as it once was but the doctor said it would do the trick and that the right thing was done by keeping his wound as clean as possible and bandaged tight.

Tommy said it was all you and the doctor was offering you a job before he’d even learned your name. You’ll get to that eventually, you told him so. Begged him to let you settle in and find a home, find a way to feel okay in this new space where you’re told fear doesn’t have to be your primary emotion any longer.

Now, though, Joel barely wants to sleep. He’s antsy, fidgeting and restless and begging to get out of bed and walk around.

He’s even bouncing Baby and talking with his brother on what jobs he can pull around town to earn his keep.

Fucking jobs.

You almost lost him to him pulling his own weight and he’s asking about fucking jobs with a half healed hole still gaping in his abdomen. 

Thomi’s been down for about an hour, she was your excuse away from the bathroom. With Joel up and about, the survival mode has turned off in your brain and now you want to crumble every time you look at the knotted over flesh.

But there’s only so much pacing that you can do until you’re sitting back in the room and staring down at Thomi with tears in your eyes. She came so close to being just another orphan in this fucked up world because you weren’t joking with Tommy when you said what you said. Part of you will go when Joel does, you will not be the same and you’ve prepared for it, you just hope she’s old enough to understand when that time comes.

There’s also the hope that everybody understands that it’s Joel who has to go first. Between you and him, he has to go first because he cannot watch another person he loves die; he cannot add another name to another gravestone in the cemetery of his heart.

That’s where he finds you, saying something about how he can’t believe there’s an actual crib that she actually gets to sleep in.

That fact and the exhaustion of his voice hits you, drags the tears out of you finally after all these days of having to be strong. She has a crib and she’s sleeping peacefully inside of it with a soft toy somebody in town sent over. Joel has a voice and he’s using it as if just a week ago you hadn’t convinced yourself that you’d never hear it again.

“How can I fix this?” He asks, gentle hand resting on your shoulder. “What can I do for you?”

“You're breathing,” you say, pushing the tears from your face. “That's enough, it’s all I’ve been hoping for.” Because while you want him to be the first to go, you can’t lose him yet. Not yet.

He smells good. Like himself but different, the sweet scent of the mint soap Tommy gave you mixing in with the natural musk and heat of him. You don’t even realize you’re crawling into his lap until you are.

Tears fall down on his face as your fingers thread through the slicked back hair until you’re cradling his head in your hand; holding him to you with open mouths breathing heavily into one another. 

He’s hard already and laying back with ease, thick hands gripping into the meat of your hips. It’s fucking embarrassing how close you are already but there was no privacy for sneaky touches on the journey here. 

“Off,” he commands, tugging at the hem of your shirt. 

Trailing his hand along the skin exposed as you comply easily to his demand, he fights against the pain you know he feels to pull himself forward enough to reach you and pull you back down. 

Days asleep fighting, literally, for his life and, yet, he’s still got all this strength radiating out of his body. You know that’s why he was able to hold on for so long but it doesn't mean it doesn’t wow you and bring another wave of sadness all at the same time.

Because if such a strong man can fall so easily, what’s stopping this world from taking you, too?

Like he can read your mind, his hands settle on your hips and he pulls back just enough to look up at you with the same big brown eyes your daughter shares. “Are you gonna get off of me if I tell you this moment was the focal point of all my fever dreams?”

Head cradled in both of your hands, you take his lips again. “I might never get off of you again, Joel Miller.”

Fighting against the pain he feels, he pushes his hips against your core as he pulls you down against him, whispered words of gratitude and love falling pushed right into your mouth from his.

“I heard every word you said,” he breathes out. “The entire time you were by my side, sweetheart, I heard it all.” 

Tongues flattened against each other, you reach down and pull off the new underwear—another offering in a gift basket to welcome your family to the town. You never thought you’d see these kinds of things again. 

Clothes in good condition; sturdy houses; friendly people; fresh vegetables.

It’s something else that drips tears from your eyes and down his cheeks.

As if he knows how overwhelmed you are by all the newness going on all around you, he takes charge to push up against your lips harder and with more hunger.

Joel’s goal in every moment between your bodies is to be the only overwhelming force you feel and he does just that with the gentle push of his solid length through your soaked channel. 

He takes the gasp you feed him, pulling back with a smile to trail the tip of his nose down the length of yours and studies you as he waits for your fully seated comfort to kick in.

“Mmm,” his head falls back and he relaxes down into the soft blankets. “I’m sorry if I bust too quick,” he breathes out. “It’s been a while and I missed you.” 

Laughter. Because that’s a feeling coiling deeper in the pit of your being than he’s pushing into and he catches your moan as brings the long awaited friction you’ve ached for. 

“I think I’m right there with you,” you whisper against him. This shared laughter and the feeling of his chapped lips on yours are the unburdening you’ve needed for so long. Even in the so called safety of the QZ, your shoulders were heavy with the weight of grief and fear both for those that were and those that will be taken away.

This is light and restful and full of peace and happiness because he turned it all around—he came back.

He heard every word you said at his side.

“None of these,” he says against your lips, swiping at the heavy salt water tears that streak down your cheeks. “Not anymore, sweetheart, not right now. You don’t need them right now.” 

Your bodies are already tightening up against each other; working in time with each other all slow and steady movements made with intention and pulling back when necessary.

Because the intention isn’t to get off, it’s to be together and share this peace and relief together.

“I love you,” falls from his lips like a prayer, something sacred and quiet that he keeps close to his chest.

Even still, he may have said no more tears but they rush from you in body racking sobs. Because you know, of course you know, but he’s never said it. Not out loud, not like this. This isn't just a mere glimpse of a long gone, past life Joel Miller and who he used to be. This is him. That sweet and romantic boy he’s only told you about in the cover of night.

He doesn’t ask if he’s hurt you, he knows that he hasn’t. All he can do is cage you in closer; kiss you harder; hold you tighter until the broken sobs are turning back into shared moans as your involuntary movements of sadness and happiness combine to push you both over that edge.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he exhales. “My strong, beautiful woman.” Those rough hands frame your face, thumbs swiping over the swell of your cheeks in mirrored movements. “You can relax now, baby, I’m right here.”

Every press of his lips against your face is so soft and full of everything else he’s struggling to say.

That you’re safe.

That you’re healthy.

That your daughter is both and can sleep peacefully not yet knowing what nightmares truly are.

He heard every word you said at his side and these are his answers—his reassurances. He’s here, he’s right here and he’ll fight like hell even against himself to make sure he’ll continue to be.