#i put it on and like 8 of the 7 different issues i was having were eliminated immediately | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

prettycottonmouthlamia · 6 hours ago

Text

>Good post! Really well-put together analysis of the branch.

Thank you! Like genuinely, it's actually a good feeling.

>But i find it difficult to even look at Wiš'adel as a Flinger. She just ignores the identity of the branch so much by dealing incredibly high damage to high defense enemies all by herself, hitting flying enemies (I didn't know Rosmontis could bypass that limitation with a future Branch, but even then she needs another operator helping her to do it) and I agree that flyers aren't an issue, especially not when you're not in IS and have access to your entire roster, but it is still part of the branch's identity. Even her attack animations don't sell her as a Flinger to me. Going by the module short, the original name of the branch is probably something like "Bombardment Sniper", but both Greyylter and TRC throw something in the traditional way and Rosmontis throws something non-traditionally with her big invisible hands. If I didn't know what Wiš'adel was and you showed me a clip of her without revealing her attack range, I'd think she was still an Artilleryman Sniper. Because of this, I don't consider her a win for Flingers. They made her a Flinger to let her abuse the upsides they have while letting her ignore the drawbacks that come with the branch. Which yes, could be described as her being a look at what the branch could be, as you said, but blowing past the limitations just isn't it for me.

So there's a few things I want to bring up here because I think they're important. I do consider Wis'adel to be a Flinger at heart. Her kit would be noticeably worse if she wasn't one. It wouldn't just be in terms of raw damage either, it would also be in consistency. Wis'adel is ultimately designed to make the most use of her class's quirks, and you can see that if you look at her S1 and S2.

Wis'adel's S1 and S2 are also quite good skills, and they actually follow the design perspectives that you would expect them to. They get overshadowed a lot by her S3, but S1 and S2 are good, honest, Flinger skills at their core, and their helped by Wis'adel having good numbers.

Ultimately, I think this is more a result of how just how barebones the class is, so the result you get is the class having these long stints between releases of operators.

Rosmontis: 11/1/2020-11/15/2020 || 4/30/2021-5/14/2021 Greyy: 7/5/2022-7/19/2022 || 3/14/2023-3/28/2023 Wis'adel: 5/1/2024-5/15/2024 || 8/31/2024-9/14/2024

I've also included CN dates because when we're talking about Greyy, that means Dorothy's Vision, an infamously delayed event lol. The difference between Rosmontis and Wis'adel was three and a half years, which is kind of absurd. There are other classes with pretty big gulfs between 6-star releases and they honestly have that same sort of feeling too: look at Pozemka versus Schwarz, Typhon vs Rosa, Mountain vs Chongyue, Hellagur vs Zuo Le...you know.

If we had gotten a solid intermediate between Rosmontis and Wis'adel, one that wasn't dealing with the insane numbers Wis'adel is but wasn't necessarily hampered as badly by her kit as Rosmontis, I think Wis'adel would have been a lot more understandable, especially in terms of kit design. As it is now though, yeah it's pretty massive whiplash. I'm not gonna sit here and be like "You need to agree with my opinion or else" though because this ultimately is just personal opinion and taste.

>The branch on a surface level is designed to clear crowds of weak enemies, not to nuke down elites or bosses. Similar to Splash Casters (who are also quite disliked in an overblown manner).

So I'm not disagreeing here per se, I just think it is a little funny that Rosmontis's one CC clear is...nuking down elites and bosses lol. I'm going to link the Risk 31 clear that uses her (alongside Bagpipe) to take out the Bladehelm Recruit and the Risk 30 clear that uses her for that same Recruit but also to kill the Withered Knight. They're neat clears! Definitely a window in the possibility of what Rosmontis might have done in a CC like CC6 if it wasn't for the release of Chen the Holungday.

>Also about Dusk: She was considered pretty bad until her ModY came out. She wasn't that bad, her S2 in particular was/is quite powerful, but ModY really elevated her and helped her fulfill the phantasy of using her S3 to put up a mass of summons to hold back groups of enemies.

Yeah I didn't touch on Dusk much because I couldn't exactly remember what the hype level was around her release. I think it was initially positive but less positive than I remember Mostima being lol.

>On release, people were disappointed by how "bad she is at levitating enemies" when that isn't even really the point. The levitation is just a means to an end, that being activating her silence and damage boost, as well as disrupting attack windups. Her S2 deals really good damage (450% atk per attack), S1 is way more consistent in actually levitating enemies than you'd think, because enemies tend to enter her range one by one and S3 is alright. It has good use-cases and excels against large bosses, cause she can hit them with three tornados at once.

Yeah Ho'ol is the one that's the "wife" in that sentence. I think even calling Silence the Paradigmatic bad is a little mean, even though her kit is very strangely designed.

Ho'olheyak suffered a lot from aesthetic complaints, my least favorite kind. People wanted the tornadoes from her S3 to levitate entire groups of enemies instead of just one, and this bugged them enough to call her bad by extension.

I have rather poor views of the wider community's ability to discern whether Operators are good or not, if this isn't clear lol. I actually really like Ho'ol, she's well designed in that all three of her skills have uses but she definitely suffers from not being the most consistent of the Core Casters. When you're competing with Eyja and Ceobe, it is ultimately a little rough. Her S2 is secretly her goat skill I'm pretty sure tho

How the Arknights Community was Wrong on One of Arknight's Most Powerful Classes

Or, alternatively, you all need to apologize to Rosmontis right now.

Flingers are experiencing a modern Renaissance right now. Thanks to the release of Wis'adel and the introduction of Rosmontis's absolutely busted IS module, it seems like things are on the up and up for Flingers. Even Greyy the Lightningbearer is a common sight in high level IS runs, and he doesn't even have a broken module.

How on Earth did this happen, when it wasn't very long ago that Flingers were the butt and punchline of their own joke?

The Original Let's start with how the archetype was introduced into the game: Rosmontis. Rosmontis was released alongside Mudrock for the Chapter 8 release event, and the reception was pretty mixed. Rosmontis was a limited operator, and to this point, limited operators in Arknights had been pretty middling. Nian wasn't really conclusively better than Hoshiguma, and W was good but nothing special. We were not at the point yet where Dusk or Skadi the Corrupting Heart had been released, so the running joke was typically to roll on the other operator on a limited banner. Mudrock was a really strong laneholder that still sees a lot of use today, and Weedy is by far the strongest shifter operator ever released.

It's also worth noting that Rosmontis was released during a general downturn of opinions on AoE ranged operators. Leonhardt and Meteorite were considered actually quite strong in the early days of Arknights, and I know this must sound crazy, but Mostima and W were actually super hyped for their release. People thought Mostima, base-ass Mostima with no modules, was good. But after CC Blade, and a general stint of CCs where AoE operators made relatively poor performances, the tide had shifted. Operators like Eyjafjalla and Angelina (god remember when Angelina was considered really good. Well I guess she is now. Regardless) had AoE capabilities but were much cheaper in DP and had solid secondary skills for dealing with single enemies. So people were generally pretty down on AoE operators, which wasn't helped later on by the release of Passenger, an operator considered so bad it resulted in several attempts by Hypergryph to make him better (the retrospective view is that while Passenger was bad, he was made out to be a lot worse than he was, a view I agree with).

These two factors did not help the views of Rosmontis as an operator, but it was also further not helped by what content was available to use Rosmontis in: Contingency Contract. Rosmontis, tragically, released after the first theme of Integrated Strategies came and went, and so the only high level content available to use her in was CC. CC is particularly harsh to Flingers as we'll discuss, but this is also something that Wis'adel has managed to avoid as there hasn't been a CC since her release. The only difficult content since Wis'adel's release has been IS and RA, two game modes that honestly favor Flingers as we'll discuss later on. There was just nowhere to use Rosmontis in more difficult content where she didn't feel bad.

Flingers are a pretty interesting subclass, and Arknights has really not designed any subclasses to be like them, ultimately. They have a very impressive attack range, higher bulk than other ranged operators, and a unique gimmick to their attacks: they will deal an additional hit of damage, but one that only has 50% of their ATK. In addition to this, Flingers are the only Sniper subclass that cannot hit aerial enemies without certain conditions being met (Wis'adel's S3, Rosmontis S3 with an aerial blocker).

In general, this results in a class that is very good at dealing with large groups of enemies with only modest DEF stats. This is because DEF ends up having an increased effect on Rosmontis' damage, because it will apply to both of her hits. An enemy with 375 DEF will, after the 175 Def ignore from her talent, reduce her attack damage by a total of 400.

This for a lot of people was sort of the final straw that broke the Rosmontis back. Her vulnerability to enemies having DEF was a problem, and it was generally stated to be in a way that other DPS checks would avoid. In addition, if we take a look at ideal DPS scenarios with the introductory 6-star for each Sniper class:

Ray: 1,346.22 Narantuya: 1,062 Schwarz: 880.28 Exusiai: 815.99 Chen the Holungday: 647.17 Rosmontis: 601.71 Fartooth: 583.88 Rosa: 539 W: 373.93

Rosmontis is very middle of the pack, losing in particular to Exusiai. Now, Exusiai also had the problem of being very soft to enemy DEF stats. Honestly, it should be noted that Rosmontis was always hitting higher DPH than Exusiai would for her normal attack damage.

(I've been getting really into Desmos lately)

Now this is all just auto-attack stuff and I don't want this to be exclusively a Rosmontis analysis by any means (although it's coming). The point here is that there was a pretty common conception that Rosmontis didn't really have a place in the meta, because Exusiai was so dominant in that spot. It's not hard to understand why. If we look at their S3 DPS really quickly...

At low DEF values, Exusiai is overdominant. This isn't super surprising, as she has a lot of factors working in her favor: a busted 5 hit S3, an attack interval reduction as well as a sizable ASPD buff from her talent. But it doesn't take a huge amount of defense for Rosmontis to come out on top. The specific DEF number is 580, roughly. Then, the perks of Rosmontis's S3 come to light: it's larger DEF ignore, it's halved attack interval, and it's much larger ATK buff.

This being said, there are still things working against Rosmontis, like her skill cycle being very long, and her own ATK buff resulting in Warfarin's buff being diluted compared to Exusiai. If you take a look at CC results, it is true that Rosmontis only has one top to her name: CC Spectrum, where she is part of a Risk 31 clear alongside Exusiai, which is pretty cool. But CCs, which often increase enemy DEF while reducing friendly ATK, are just very harsh to Flingers. Given that it is a class so sensitive to DEF and ATK changes to hit breakpoints, most CCs just hit Rosmontis in a double bind.

Funnily enough, Exusiai also doesn't have any top clears in CC past this point too, which is interesting to point out.

(For those counting: Rosmontis: CC5 Exusiai: CC1, CC5)

Rosmontis' position probably wasn't helped past this point by the release of Chen the Holungday either, and the rest is history. Rosmontis goes down as one of the weaker 6-stars in the game. People feel bad when they roll her. People on this website nurse weird ass grudges against her.

The Blip

It would be remiss of me to not remind people about Greyy the Lightningbearer. Greyy was a 5-star, which means that 99% of players ignored his existence, Gamepress made a dogshit summary about him that was made by people who don't play the game, and life moved on. We're going to talk about Greyy in more detail later on because he is important to talk about...

Oh well right now

Lone Trail: The Update That Should Have Changed Everything

Lone Trail was a super massive event, releasing three 6-stars that can be kindly regarded as "good but nothing amazing, bad, and my wife". It also introduced to the game the Flinger Modules, and I'm going to tell you all a secret. You and me, real close now.

It's fucked up these modules didn't receive more hype.

These modules gave Flingers a second shockwave hit. Now that doesn't seem all that impressive. After all, you might think to yourself, that shockwave still deals 50% damage. But the addition of an extra shockwave really changed the numbers of the game, because it meant a huge chunk more damage.

At minimum (673 DEF roughly) this module improves her damage by about 45%. That's pretty crazy for a module as it stands, but if you want to see the full chart, here you go. Arknights Youtubers hire me.

The extremely high peak there, where Rosmontis is doing more than triple the damage she was originally is actually getting to the exact point where Rosmontis without a module moves towards dealing scratch damage. This is pretty common with modules involving physical DPS operators, such as Blaze, to have very unique high points.

But this is 45% just off of, what is essentially

An extra shockwave

60 more points of DEF Ignore

+75 ATK attribute

This is a remarkably tame talent upgrade. The base effect, the second shockwave, is pulling so much work here. These numbers will be a bit more tame when you compare with S2 (already comes with +2 shockwaves) or S3 (already has some DEF shred) but this is still a very impactful module.

It also impacts the stun chance on her S2. Without her module, and having 4 total hits per attack, this puts her stun chance at roughly 59.04% per attack. The additional hit raises those chances to 67.232%. Not a massive increase, but it does help to patch up her odds.

This is also why Greyy's module was so important. Greyy's slow is tied to his talent, and hence the jump from 2 hits to 3 hits is very notable. Without his module, Greyy has a 64% chance to slow the enemy with every attack. With his module, those chances go up to 78.4%! That's pretty significant! He also deals 15% more damage to Slowed enemies too, which is a pretty strong mod on top of the extra shockwave. I haven't actually done Greyy's numbers, but it really does make him a lot more consistent at slowing enemies.

So now we're here, with Flinger's getting a surprisingly good module. They now deal 3 hits per attack, with Rosmontis dealing 5 hits per attack with her S2, which is actually relevant for Lone Trail (Rosmontis can remove a clean 250 DEF with every one of her attacks during her S2 against Arc Screenguards). So what happened?

Well...Flingers weren't popular, were widely regarded as a flawed class, and mostly passed over. It just wasn't worth it to people to raise Rosmontis or Greyy the Lightningbringer even if you had some inkling their module was good.

The Return of Integrated Strategies and Reclamation Algorithm

A miracle the likes of which Hypergryph may never do again...well okay maybe they will, they do be kind of nailing it on the alternate gamemodes, we have the return of Integrated Strategies and Reclamation Algorithm. These modes are actually uniquely situated in comparison to CC to benefit Flingers over other classes. This is largely because of how these modes chose to scale difficulty and the tools they give you to combat this.

In IS, enemy difficulty typically results in scaling HP and ATK buffs, and that's it. It's rare to see enemy DEF buffs in IS. In addition, many relics in IS focus on increasing ATK or ASPD or improving damage dealt. Flingers get much and much better when they deal damage with their shockwaves, and it is pretty easy to do that in IS. Rosmontis's S2 is of special note here: with her module, it deals 5 hits of damage, which means it benefits from ATK buffs to the same degree as Exusiai does, but with a lot of added perks. DEF ignore, a moderate AoE radius, and a chance to stun. This skill is way more dangerous with additional ASPD.

Greyy also benefits a ton here. Extra ASPD allows him to basically permanently lock down entire groups of enemies with slow. This is something that can also sort of be done with Chain Casters, but notably, Chain Casters can only slow down a certain number of enemies at a time with each of their attacks. Since slowed enemies tend to create clusters, Greyy can slow down entire waves of enemies with his attacks, while still dealing pretty impressive damage.

The only issue is the aerial enemies. I haven't mentioned this up until now, because in my opinion, it is the single most overhyped drawback in the entire game. There are tons of events and chapter releases where this basically doesn't matter. Aerial enemies are, for all intents and purposes, rather rare in Arknights. But in IS this is important. Flingers need some degree of map knowledge to use well. But your Sniper ticket is not necessarily the only solution to aerial enemies in any IS, and chances are you'll find more than one. For IS3, you can pick up Kroos Alter and Rosmontis and in the grand majority of situations be completely fine.

Of course, if you play IS5, this basically isn't an issue and Rosmontis is the second stronger Flinger in the game, and I think arguably the second strongest Sniper pick?

I almost forgot RA by the time I went to post this, so it's a good thing I went back because, yes, Flingers and Rosmontis are also good there too. It's literally designed for Flingers to be good, it's huge mobs of enemies all clustered closely around each other. You can use Provisions to give Rosmontis a ton of ATK or ASPD and watch her go ham on like 115 exploding spiders. They also have amazing range for vision on resource maps and have multi-hit mechanics for those stupid locks.

It's like, impressive how nicely Flingers slot in here. I'm really curious how Greyy feels when you give him one of the ASPD provisions so he has +60 ASPD.

Rosmontis CRAVES your Coagulate Supplements!!!!

The End-Times: Wis'adel and Rosmontis's Busted Module

If you've ever wanted to know how we got to this renaissance, it was Wis'adel being released, having absolutely busted numbers on her kit that basically ensured that her shockwaves would always do damage, and then going and soloing IS3 A15 like it was fucking nothing.

Wis'adel proved Flingers could be fucking fantastic.

Rosmontis has actual problems in her kit, she's ultimately a pretty early Limited operator with all the design choices that carries. Wis'adel is what you get when you ask "how far can a Flinger go?" The shockwave mechanic works well with her huge numbers and her shadow status effect. Her summons work to keep as many enemies as possible attached with a shadow. Her blast radius is massive. Honestly the fact she can blow up the UFOs in IS3 barely matters.

Soon after that, Rosmontis got her specialized Module. I've seen people complain about this. You're wrong. There's no fucking way this module should be allowed to be used in general content. It is, in fact, maybe the most busted specialized module they've released. It completely changes Rosmontis as an operator. Benefitting from Caster relics is insane for themes like IS3 which has a ton of genuinely broken ones, her new and improved equipment are insanely powerful, and the fact that she allows every Sniper and Caster to create a free rather tanky blocker with a crazy debuff effect is like

You understand this module is nuts? Surely?

The trait wouldn't really make Rosmontis meta anyhow. It would improve her damage by a lot but puts her, rather frustratingly, into the camp of mixed offensive operators who now have to worry about enemy RES values coming into play. Plenty of the enemies with decent DEF stats that Rosmontis struggles with now also come with sizable RES stats. As I've mentioned in my brief thoughts on Dagda, there are a ton of enemies Dagda hits harder by brute force than Indra does by trying to side-step the bigger stat.

It's also okay that the module is IS only, because IS is where Flingers are just at their best. Nothing is stopping you from using Rosmontis in general content, especially with her still really good BOM-X module!

Flingers, ultimately, are just a well-designed class. They have great range, AoE, and having extra instances of damage is always incredibly powerful. I do think Rosmontis has some kit issues, but I also think that a lot of people immediately dismissed her as bad based on community consensus. You want to know a cool thing about Rosmontis I haven't brought up yet? She can attack invisible enemies with her S3. Invisible enemies feel a lot more common than aerial enemies do, hell Lappland the Decadenza's event is literally a bunch of invisible enemies.

But like, that's never seen as a positive to Rosmontis unless you're a Sniperknights player and then you might just say Totter is better (and I get that, he is a bit more consistent). Rosmontis can hit an entire enemy type with her S3 that Wis'adel can't, but it's seemingly never mentioned. It's just...this community is very strange, you know?

Try Rosmontis out, hell try her out with Shamare or Warfarin. If you use Exusiai a bunch (godspeed soldier it's been rough since the Chen days), you probably already have those operators. Try Greyy out too. Then, if you really want the challenge, E0 Level 1 Wis'adel. Come on. You know that's better than like half the cas-

92 notes · View notes

trolagygirl2022 · 2 months ago

Text

Your future spouse's favourite thing about you! PAC reading

pick your image!

Pile 1: King of Pentacles, 5 of Swords, 4 of Pentacles, Page of Wands rev.

Ok so your future spouse is really going to like your bold and strong personality. The song that popped up in my head was "Boss B*tch" by Doja Cat. I see you having this cool aura and not letting people walk over you. You can come off as intimidating or strong but you do have a soft side to you :) I see your future spouse being really intrigued by your vibe. I'm also seeing money here, perhaps some of you have good jobs. You might have gone through some issues where you used to get walked over and people would treat you in a negative way. Now you're healing and you don't let negative people in your life. You're not arrogant or rude but you're willing to set boundaries for yourself. I see you guys having quite some confidence! What also popped up in my mind is a powerful lady wearing dark red. Like those vibes are heavily coming out in this reading!! A lot of powerful woman vibes! (You don't have to be a woman but I hope you're getting the vision that's popping up in my mind hehe).

Pile 2: The Magician, 6 of Cups, 9 of Swords, 8 of Pentacles, 7 of Swords, 2 of Wands.

Okay Pile two, I see your future spouse really liking your creative side! It seems that we have a lot of creatives here! From tarot to arts and craft, to singing and crocheting!! There's some activity that you're either really skilled at or just enjoy that your future spouse will find cute about you. It seems to be something you're quite passionate about and enjoy doing it. (Some of you guys might have even taken it as far as to do a little side hustle with it!). Your future spouse doesn't only see your craft but they also see your hardworking side and the amount of effort and precision that's put into this. I'll interpret the 7 of Swords as some of you that might have thought that you're not as good at whatever you do. I see some of you guys having little to no confidence. This doesn't have to do with your art work but also your self esteem in general, I see your future spouse heavily disagreeing with this because they'll love your personality and whatever you do!

Pile 3: 8 of Swords, Death rev, The Empress, The Devil, Ace of Swords, 6 of Swords.

Sooo pile 3, I see your future spouse being very interested in your appearance, especially your body 👀. It's not like in a creepy way that they're objectifying you or anything but I see them just really like your appearance and your features. Your energy reminds me of the The Empress card (I'm using the modern witch deck). She's confident in herself and her body. I see you guys having this sort of aura that pulls your future spouse in. They might find themselves feeling very drawn to you, almost like a spell ahahaha. Your future spouses might at first be attracted to this and this might lead them to want to know more about you and find themselves being a bit intimidated? Like when you're a bit intimidated around someone but you still want to get with them. Some of you guys might have partners from a different ethnicity/race/nationality. I see your partner really liking your culture and would try to learn a lot about it. Like they might try to learn your language and travel to your home place. For this pile your future spouse will put in a lot of effort to understand you 🥺.

Pile 4: The Tower, The Hermit, Page of Wands, 4 of Pentacles, 10 of Swords, Death.

This pile seems to be the shyiest of them all! Some of y'all might be naturally shy while the other side might have been sort of "bullied" into being introverted. There's a lot of heavy energy in this pile, a lot of you guys have a lot of heavy baggage that you're still suffering the effects of. The hermit tells me that a lot of you guys like to keep to yourselves and stay alone. You might not go out of wanting to connect with people because you're worried and scared about new connections. You close yourself out so you'll probably be quite hesitant when it comes to starting a new connection with your future spouse. I see them trying though even though you'll be a bit stubborn. They'll like it though, I see them wanting to chase you and do their best to get with you. They'll be intrigued by your mysterious presence and will want to know more about you! Not like they're trying to be nosey but they're just very curious about you!

#kpop tarot #tarot #pac reading #pac tarot reading #pac tarot #pick a card #pick a pile #paid tarot reading #free tarot #free tarot reading #tarotblr #tarot paid readings #future spouse tarot

827 notes · View notes

ayamari-no-goshi · 4 months ago

Text

I’d like to clear up some common misconceptions about the Attack on Titan Tower, aka when Jason infiltrated it to attack Tim

If you want to read this for yourself, here are some links: readallcomics - I have the best luck with this site on destop zipcomic readcomicsonline - this site can be temperamental

1) Jason did not go there to attempt to kill Tim

Jason seems to have 3 separate goals for this: - size up the new kid. - make sure he knows Bruce just sees him as another soldier - prove to Tim just how dangerous the job is (heavily implied, in my opinion, especially after Tim tried telling Jason he was wrong about how Bruce saw him) He also voiced his anger over being forgotten by everyone. Depending on your interpretation of Jason and his character, this could also be a reason. To me, this feels more like an afterthought because they moved to the Hall of Fallen Heroes before he said this, and Jason likes to be dramatic.

Side note on this. Jason never says anything about being replaced.

2) none of Tim’s injuries were life threatening

Once again, Jason was not attempting to kill him. He beat him up pretty badly, but it was designed to prove a point

3) Jason did NOT cut Tim’s throat.

That happened during Hush which predates both Under the Red Hood and Titan’s Tower. Jason was pretending to be Hush, put a knife to Tim’s throat, and put enough pressure to make him bleed (it was not an actual slice) to get Bruce to react to him. That injury was not life threatening either

4) Jason developed a respect and a bit of envy for Tim after fighting him

At the end of the issue while he’s leaving (while outside the tower), Jason acknowledges Tim’s skill. Jason also wonders if he could have had a life more similar to his, where he had friends and a better support system, if he could have had a different life.

5) Tim was NOT a damsel in distress during the fight, and he did NOT develop a fear of Jason.

Tim was making quips and dissing Jason the entire fight. Tim was not afraid of him nor did he bat an eye at being attacked by Jason. He also vocalized just how much he had to work for his cape because of how Jason's death affected Bruce

Also, the next time Tim saw Jason after this, he made sure to kick Jason in the groin

6) Jason wrote "Jason Todd was here" and signed it with a hand print on the wall.

It looks like it could be in blood, but Tim's not injured enough for there to be that much... and blood darkens after a while. There's a bit of time between Tim getting knocked out and the rest of the Titans finding him and the writing so it's probably paint. Again, Jason likes to be dramatic

7) more Robin!Jason slander by Raven

Once again, we get the mention that Jason was "aggressive". I swear, this is the only thing writers remember from Death in the Family and not the point that that behavior was out of the ordinary for Jason. This is a personal pet peeve of mine in the comics.

8) almost forgot to add the most important part, Jason made a homemade Robin costume and wore it under his Red Hood outfit because he could

Again, Jason is a dramatic bitch.

#jason todd #red hood #dc comics #Tim Drake #dc robin #Attack on Titans Tower #As much as I do like enemy to caregiver fics I feel like we need to clear the air a bit regarding this specific event #dear fans Jason can be insane at times but to him he needed to prove something to both himself and Tim during this #killing was not on the table here #I love Jason as a character #but he is a dramatic bitch #he's also has some of the most wildly different characterizations out of the Batfam

751 notes · View notes

deliciousangelfestival · 4 months ago

Text

The Imperfect Couple - 3

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

A/N: Steve Rogers is older than Bucky here.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

You arrived at the new apartment, feeling a small sense of relief for finally being under a different roof than Caroline’s. The thought of enduring the same torture as before made your skin crawl.

As you settled in, you broke the silence. “Your mom offered the attorney to us.” You remembered how you had insisted the divorce attorney make it as quick and painless as possible. “Why didn’t you finalize it?”

Bucky’s gaze remained steady. “Not once did I think you were actually going to leave me.”

“There’s no marriage between us,” you shot back, your voice sharp. “If you’d finalized it, you could’ve easily married a woman your mother approved of.”

Flashback Start

You recalled every time Caroline mentioned another woman’s name as if they were more suited for Bucky. “You know, Rachel just graduated summa cum laude from Harvard in social politics,” she had said at the rehearsal dinner.

Then, on your wedding day, as you and Bucky sat together, trying to enjoy the celebration, Caroline approached, holding hands with a stunning woman. “Bucky, look who’s here? Katherine just arrived from London.”

Caroline’s voice dripped with approval. “Both of them went to the same law school.”

You clenched the fork in your hand so hard you thought it might snap.

Why the hell was she introducing another woman to you on your wedding night?

Did she expect you and Bucky to have a threesome with Katherine?

From that moment, you knew your place—an outsider who didn’t come from the pedigree Caroline so desperately wanted for her son.

When you finally left the house, you remembered her raising her champagne glass with a smirk. “I always knew you weren’t the one.”

Flashback End

“They need someone with a spotless record,” Bucky said, breaking you from your thoughts.

You stood there, your emotions a mix of anger and disbelief.

“I’m not making excuses for you. I know the old me wasn’t good enough, that I couldn’t be the man you could rely on,” he admitted, his voice thick with regret.

He looked at you with a desperation that caught you off guard. “You could poison my drink, stab me in my sleep. I wouldn’t fight it. I’d let you.”

His eyes, usually so confident and composed, were now filled with a deep, pained sincerity. The weight of his guilt seemed to crush him, and the shadows of remorse darkened his features. His hands trembled slightly, betraying the calm facade he tried to maintain.

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest. How could he say that so casually? What kind of twisted love was this?

“That’s how much I need you,” he confessed, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re using me,” you accused, your voice shaking with a mix of fury and sadness.

Bucky didn’t deny it. “Like I said, it’s a business relationship. But I’ve trusted you from the beginning. Put my faith in you.”

He reached out, taking your hands in his, holding them together like a prayer. “And I hope we can work together. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance to work in the White House.””

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The following day, you met Steve, the future Presidential candidate. He greeted you warmly, his genuine smile easing some of the tension you felt. You’d met Steve and his wife, Peggy, a few times before—honest people who never treated you like you didn’t belong. Steve had even defended you whenever Caroline or others looked down on you for not being in the same league as them.

"I’m so glad you’re here," Steve said, clasping your hand. "When did you arrive?"

You chuckled softly. "Well, when three Secret Service agents showed up at my door, who was I to say no?"

Steve chuckled too, though there was a hint of awkwardness in his eyes. He tilted his head slightly. "Let’s talk."

You walked together, the air thick with unspoken words. "I know it’s difficult for you to be here. I owe you big time," Steve began sincerely. He had witnessed your marriage crumble, and despite his and Peggy’s best efforts to support you and Bucky, things had fallen apart.

You sighed. "What confuses me is, why me? He could’ve chosen another woman, someone way more qualified."

Steve leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "To be honest, I think you’re the best option. He probably won’t show it, but Bucky was happy when he heard you were coming."

You scoffed, glancing over at Bucky, who was watching the two of you from a distance. "Impossible."

As you scanned the room, you spotted someone familiar—your brother, Tim. Excusing yourself from Steve, you made your way over to him.

"I’m glad you’re here," Tim said, his voice filled with warmth, though his eyes carried a weight of their own.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "I can’t believe you. You knew what I went through, and yet you’re working with him? You sucked up to him."

"Look at me," Tim said firmly.

You glanced down at him, seeing the determination in his gaze.

"Who’s going to hire a disabled person like me?" Tim who seated on his wheelchair, his voice wavered slightly as he spoke. He had been born with both legs, but when bone cancer struck his left leg, the doctors recommended amputation to stop it from spreading. That surgery had shattered his dreams of becoming a professional tennis player.

"It was James who offered me a job," he emphasized, "with a high salary."

Tim continued, "You can keep your anger, but face it, Y/N—they won’t pay the bills. For people like me, I need more money to survive in this world."

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Bucky appeared beside you.

"Hi, Tim."

"Hey," Tim replied.

"I'm going to steal your sister for a bit." Bucky turned to you. "Our next schedule is couple’s therapy," he said, his voice calm but authoritative, cutting the conversation short.

You hated this part. The thought of attending therapy with Bucky made your stomach twist with unease. You shot Tim one last look, a mixture of concern and frustration in your eyes, before following Bucky out of the room.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

As you and Bucky sat across from Aiden, the therapist, the atmosphere was thick with unresolved tension. The room was simple yet comfortable, with soft, neutral tones that were supposed to be calming but did little to ease the storm of emotions swirling within you. You could feel the weight of Bucky's presence beside you, a familiar heaviness that both comforted and suffocated you.

Aiden leaned forward, his expression neutral but attentive. "So, what are you feeling right now?"

You hesitated for a moment before speaking, your voice laced with frustration and exhaustion. "I don’t think I have the courage to live another day in his family. His mother is the devil spawn. Even seeing her shadow triggers me." The words spilled out of you, raw and unfiltered, a reflection of the years of pain and resentment you'd kept bottled up.

Aiden nodded, his gaze shifting to Bucky. "And what about you, Mr. Barnes?"

Bucky's eyes remained fixed on a spot on the floor, his voice steady but lacking its usual conviction. "I didn’t think that way. As long as we stick together, we can get through everything." There was a hint of desperation in his tone, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

You turned to look at him, disbelief and anger simmering beneath your calm facade. "From the beginning, we should’ve never gotten married. You only focus on yourself, never bothering to look behind you. Me, trying my best to fit into your circles."

Your voice wavered, the painful truth of your words cutting through the silence like a knife. You had always known you were out of his league—young and innocent, believing that love could conquer all.

But you had been wrong, and the reality of that mistake was too much to bear.

His mother’s voice echoed in your mind, the countless times she’d told you that you weren’t good enough, that you didn’t deserve him.

"Your mother was right. I don’t deserve you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s expression tightened, his guilt etched into every line of his face. "I’m sorry. I really am sorry." His voice cracked, the weight of his regret finally breaking through.

He had never wanted this—to see you hurt, to see you broken because of him and his family. But the damage was done, and the guilt gnawed at him, relentless and unforgiving.

Aiden observed the exchange, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke. "I see that you’re the victim here, ma’am. And your former mother-in-law is the main reason why." He glanced at Bucky, his voice firm. "Mr. Barnes, your mother hurt her deeply, and now you must do everything in your power to make amends."

Bucky nodded, his voice thick with emotion. "I will. I'll do anything to erase the hurt you’ve received from her." The sincerity in his voice was palpable, but it was clear that the guilt weighed heavily on him. He had failed to protect you, to shield you from his mother’s venom, and that failure haunted him.

Aiden’s voice softened, but there was a steely resolve in his words. "Use this pain, both of you. Let it fuel you to confront Caroline, to reclaim your strength. Don’t let her win. Turn this pain into power."

As you sat there, the enormity of the situation began to sink in. You had been through so much, and the path ahead was uncertain. You had expected to loathe the couple’s therapy, but surprisingly, it turned out to be a beneficial experience.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

After the couple's therapy, the silence between you and Bucky was palpable, each of you grappling with the raw emotions that had surfaced.

The therapy had stripped away your filters, leaving you both exposed—your anger and frustration flowing freely. Bucky remained stoic, absorbing your harsh words with an almost resigned patience.

Returning to the Barnes household, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The room was filled with Bucky’s family: his parents, Julius and Caroline; his brother, Shawn, who struggled with cocaine and felt diminished by his inability to meet Caroline’s lofty expectations; and Hazel, Bucky’s sister and Nate’s mother.

Hazel, having felt overshadowed as the spare child, had chosen a career in fashion to escape the constant comparison to Bucky, who was seen as the golden child.

You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Shawn and Hazel, both of whom shared your misery under Caroline’s disdain. But that sympathy was tempered by their enjoyment of watching you suffer, thanks to their mother’s contempt.

Greg, a family friend, was the bearer of the news that the whole family would attend the upcoming convention event.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you said firmly, your tone clipped.

“Why… why?” Greg asked, confused.

Caroline rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Here we go.”

Bucky tried to interject, “Don’t…”

You cut him off with a steely gaze. “After that consultation, you still want to continue this?”

Caroline's eyes narrowed. “I knew we couldn’t trust her.”

Shawn chuckled, and Hazel remained indifferent.

“Quiet,” Julius commanded, his voice brooking no argument. The room fell silent.

With a sense of finality, you approached Caroline. “You’re so jealous of me,” you said, your voice dripping with disdain.

Caroline’s eyes widened, a mixture of anger and shock. “What are you talking about?”

“Because you know I’m going to get what you can’t have,” you smirked, savoring the moment. “Being the wife of the Vice President.”

“You bitch,” Caroline spat, something snapped inside her. Deep down, you were right—she was jealous of you. You were younger, smarter, and luckier. It was her dream to be in your position, but now it seemed like she had paved the way for you instead. What’s worse, you didn’t fit her criteria at all. She felt you didn’t deserve this.

Without warning, Caroline lunged at you, grabbing your hair. The two of you were soon locked in a fierce struggle, yanking each other’s hair and grappling with a fury that left no room for remorse. The physical confrontation was liberating, an outlet for all the anger you had been holding back.

You felt no fear and no guilt towards the seventy-year-old woman. At last, you could release all the anger you had been holding in.

Waiting for karma takes too long, and you can’t expect God to do all the work. So you took this chance to give her a lesson she won’t forget.

“Stop! STOP!” Bucky and Julius’s voices cut through the chaos as they tried to separate you. Shawn and Hazel, their faces a mix of curiosity and apathy, slowly backed away from the scene.

It was a struggle to pry you apart; Caroline, in her rage, was more unruly and disheveled compared to your own controlled fury.

“Hufft,” you adjusted your disheveled dress and hair, glaring at Caroline with a fierce, triumphant look. “You know what? I hope your son wins, so I can rub my new position right in your face.”

Caroline’s expression was one of shock and fury, her face a portrait of someone who had been dealt a blow she wasn’t prepared for. Her eyes were wild with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

“You’re absolutely right,” you looked at Bucky, your voice steady. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance to live in the White House.”

Caroline’s gritted her teeth.

“If the world wants to see us as a happily married couple,” you said with a cold smile, “I’ll give them the most blissful marriage they’ve ever seen. It’ll be the kind of marriage everyone talks about when they mention a perfect union.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise at your cold declaration. For a moment, he was stunned, but as he processed your words, admiration and pride flickered across his face. He straightened, a hint of a smile forming, clearly impressed by your bold resolve and newfound strength.

Join the tag list:

@thezombieprostitute

@thetravelingtyper

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@dexter99

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@tfatwsoldir

@barnesxstan

@toldyouitwasamelodrama

@secret-sheee

@esposadomd

@buckitostan

@wh0reforbucknasty

@bada-lee-ily

@mrsstuckyboo

@iamasimpingh0e

@loki-laufeyson68

@sidraaaaaaaaa

@aritoocute

@preeyansha

@crazyunsexycool

@anixerz

@mcira

@touchstarvedforbuckybarnes

@pattiemac1

@elizalexwil

@gingersnap-2

@whitexwolfxx310

@marvel-wifey-86

@kumointhesky

@hnnhbananananana

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@nouis-bum

@vioplay19

@thebuckybarnesvault

@unaxv

@hzdhrtss

@blackbirdwitch22

@darsynia

@lokislady82

@bonkybarnes106

@kandis-mom

@imrandomstuffsblog

@chimchoom

@wintrsoldrluvr

@greatenthusiasttidalwave

@sebastians-love

@kythefangirl25

@mrsnikstan

@identity2212

@justsebstan

554 notes · View notes

godmadeaterribleerror · 5 months ago

Text

No Love Lost Series Masterlist

Read on A03! - Listen to the Playlist!

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for canon-typical violence, swearing, mental health issues, mentions of rape/non-con, and sexual content.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff.

Series Summary

Three years ago you were normal, the only demons you had to fight were your own, and you the most you knew of Vought and the Boys were what you saw on TV. But then you met Homelander at a stupid party, and woke up the next morning in a cell.

After almost two and a half years of you being Homelander's little project, Soldier Boy was woken up only go rouge and be put back under. Somewhere in there, you escaped. And before Queen Maeve went underground, she told William Butcher about the Anomaly, a powerful supe who recently escaped Vought captivity and may have an agenda against Homelander.

One month later, the Boys found you.

You spend the next five months helping them best you can, though your control over your powers is weak and your fear of Homelander makes you useless in combat. But you get an idea. A stupid, dangerous idea that turns you into Soldier Boy's keeper, giving him a second chance to take down Homelander, you hanging over his shoulder, a threat should he want to go nuclear again. It's exhausting and frustrating, and you might kill him and yourself as soon as this is over, but you said whatever it takes.

And this is what it takes.

Author's Note

This story is non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being;

1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so.

2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad.

Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask!

Navigation Key

❤️‍🔥 = Smut

🚩 = Additional Warnings

Chapter List

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing Chapter 2 - A New Kind of Tension Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress 🚩 Chapter 4 - You Might Be The Same As Me Chapter 5 - Popped, Cool, and Ready to Go Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense Chapter 7 - The Blinding Ultra-Violence 🚩 Chapter 8 - I Just Find My Way Back ❤️‍🔥🚩 Chapter 9 - Can't Cover It Up ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 10 - Lead Me To The Ark ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 11 - The Wolves or The Ocean Rocks Chapter 12 - While My Blood's Still Flowing Chapter 13 - The Terror of Knowing Chapter 14 - Choke on Sun Chapter 15 - I Found A Martyr ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 16 - Let It Flood ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 17 - Make My Chest Stir Chapter 18 - Something In The Static ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 19 - Don't Look Back 🚩 Chapter 20 - Forget to Fall Down Chapter 21 - Some Things You Just Can't Speak About ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 22 - I Stayed In The Darkness With You Chapter 23 - Wherever You're Going ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 24 - You'll Never Be Alone ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 25 - All I Know ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 26 - I’ve Loved Everything About You That Hurts ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 27 - Just A Shot Away 🚩 Chapter 28 - Something That I'm Supposed to Be ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 29 - All My Bets On You Chapter 30 - Every Demon Wants His Pound of Flesh 🚩 Chapter 31 - I'd Do It All Again ❤️‍🔥

More Than You Could Ever Know - A No Love Lost Christmas Special

Part 1 - The Boys start Secret Santa, Ben pretends to do his job. ❤️‍🔥 Part 2 - Ben and Ryan go shopping, and you all try to find a tree. Part 3 - You and Ben have a Christmas Eve date. Many gifts are opened.

Bonus Footage (Standalone Chapters)

Dying’s Up to Me - A Prologue. Takes place 6ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 They're Never Gonna Find You A Home - Request! Everyone adjusts to your life with the Boys. Takes place 5ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 Back to Here - Request! They get horny at the dining table, and Butcher takes it personally. Takes place in Chapter 14. It's So Simple - You make Ben do icebreakers. He's a little bitch about it. Takes place in Chapter 14. Just Your Time - You give Ben internet lessons. Takes place in Chapter 14. As Much As I Do - Request! Ben finds you dancing, is immediately very normal about it. Takes place after Chapter 14 and around Chapter 15. Calling Your Name - Ben's first birthday awake isn't great. Takes place in Chapter 19. ❤️‍🔥 I Skip My Pride - You share some music with Ben over text. Takes place in Chapter 22. The Only Place That I Call Home - It's team game night, and everyone is sick of you and Ben's shit. Takes place in Chapter 24. ❤️‍🔥 Can't Help Myself - Request! Ben has a breeding kink, and you're incredibly horny, so it works. Takes place in around Chapter 24 and Chapter 25. ❤️‍🔥 Anywhere Else Is Hollow - A halloween special episode! Takes place in Chapter 25. It Was Smiling Down - A Ryan pov Chapter. Takes place between Chapter 26 and Chapter 27. A Call To Motion - Request! There's a lot of things you're good at. Sex with Ben is one of them. Takes places in Chapter 28.❤️‍🔥 I Want You Only - You and Ben go shopping. Takes place in Chapter 28 ❤️‍🔥 I’ll Hold Your Hand - Request! You get your period, and Ben has to do his job and take care of that. Takes place post series.

930 notes · View notes

hidden-poet · 5 months ago

Text

Commander Snow: 10

Commander Snow

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

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

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

chapter 9

Chapter 10

The bed you were asleep on felt like a cloud under you.

The bedding was fresh, and smelt slightly of lavender scented washing powder. It held a crispness that could only be given by drying in the sun.

Pillows surrounded you, giving you a sense of security while heavy blankets nearly pinned you to the mattress from their weight.

You slept easy despite your predicament. Only the morning sun, as it streamed through the airy curtains, woke you. Still, you don’t move. Too comfortable, and too tired to face the day.

Coriolanus was not next to you. The large bed was only occupied by yourself. You wondered how long he had been missing, and how much longer he would stay away.

You were in an entirely new world, only he was familiar. And even he had changed. He was President of Panem, not Commander of District 12. His hair was long, and his clothes were fashionable. He even held himself taller and talked slower.

Still, he was what you knew. Your lifeline in an alien world.

Would you change too? You supposed you had.

A District girl, now wife of the President. Soon the weight of the diamond on your hand would become unrecognizable. You would get used to the strange people here. Tigris and Grandma’am would become family and not Capitol enemies.

So quickly, your life was snatched from under you. Everything you have ever known has been replaced. Even the air felt different upon your skin. The people around you ate differently, talked differently, dressed differently. Would anything be left of you? Would you be able to keep anything of your home inside of you?

Your heart hurts to think of your mother and brother. Were you to trust Coriolanus when he said he had released them? He was likely to have had them

released and then shot outside of the gates. How could you ensure their safety? Would he let you call them? What would it cost you?

The quiet turning of the door knob broke your train of thought.

You wondered if it was a maid or Coriolanus but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn and look.

You didn’t want to face either one so you closed your eyes hoping that they would leave you.

Coriolanus did not. He gently shook your shoulder, and you rolled over from your fake sleep.

“Good morning,” he pushes back your hair, tucking it behind your ear, “Did you sleep okay?”

You brush his hand away. Your ring scratches the skin of his hand as you do.

“I have a doctor on standby. Are you in any pain?”

You sit up and surprisingly find very little pain. More tightness from a muscle that had never been used before. You were quite wet already, and he was slow. Allowing you time to adjust.

“I feel fine,” you respond, “What time is it?”

“It’s early. I’m sorry. The sign-in is at noon, so you need to start getting dressed. Just like yesterday, some women are going to come in and help you.”

“The same women?” You hoped not. They were so Capitol. You felt repulsed at the thought of sharing a room with them again.

“I don’t know. Was there a problem with them yesterday?” His Commander's face was put on. A displeased stone expression that made you feel like a scolded child.

“No.” You deny. Your eyes go to your ring that sprays out a pale rainbow from the sunlight.

He pulls your attention back to him with a hold on your chin.

“You’re my wife. First Lady of Panem.”

Him calling you wife made your heart curdle.

“You hold the power over them. If there’s an issue you need to tell me.”

“There was no issue,” you insist.

He doesn’t push you on it.

“They will be here soon. Come outside for breakfast.”

He gives your arm a tap before rising from the bed to retrieve a warm dressing gown from the closet.

It was soft around your body and brought a surprising amount of warmth.

The journey to the dining room table was simple. Just past a long hallway, it opened into the living room, where to the right an elevated platform formed the dining area.

The Snow women were not dressed as casually as you were. Fine dresses and jewels were worn for breakfast.

You looked to Coriolanus to see he was also dressed fashionably and felt embarrassed that he had brought you out in last night's worn make-up and a dressing gown.

The women seemed unbothered to see you.

“Good morning, Y/N.” Tigris greeted you.

“Good morning.” You offer back.

Coriolanus holds out a chair for you amongst the 12 available.

“Did you have a good time last night?” she asks.

You looked at her and saw no vindictiveness in her eyes. It was a genuine question, offered to make you feel at ease.

It was, in fact, the worst night of your life. But you were a stranger at her table, you would not repay her kindness with scorn.

“Yes,” you say instead, “Did you?”

Tigris nods her head, as she pours out coffee from a pot into the small white tea cups.

“Bet you never saw anything like that in the Districts.” Grandma’am quipped.

You weren’t sure if she intended for her comment to be a way of reminding you of your place, or as an encouragement to how great the Capitol could be.

“No, I haven’t.” You agree.

There was food displayed on the table, across a long white cover. Coriolanus picked food from and dropped it onto the gold plate in front of you.

You had no appetite. It was all so ghastly rich. There was no need for this amount of excess.

Coriolanus did not share your off-put. He ate his plate, while you examined the strange contents of yours.

Grandma’am doted on her grandson. Telling stories of his younger years. He always had leadership skills, she said. His presidential future was never in any doubt.

“Even when-” Grandma’am stopped herself, suddenly looking at and pushing her food around on the plate.

You were eager to hear what she had to say. Even when he was sent to be a Peacekeeper? Even when he got involved with Lucy Gray? Was there something else that Coriolanus has kept hidden?

“If only your father could see you now,” she redirects, “Oh he would be so proud.”

“We’re so proud,” Tigris states. Trying to defuse the somber mood.

Coriolanus smiles at Tigris under her praise.

“And you?” he asks, turning to you.

You nod your head, unsure on what he wanted to hear.

“Congratulations, President Snow.” You offer.

“It sounds right, doesn’t it?” Grandma’am squeals.

You wait until the rest of the company has finished their breakfast between idle chatter.

Coriolanus was on his second cup of coffee. His arm slung over the back of your chair, as he sits casually, talking to Tigris.

He leans down to your ear, the second Tigris is occupied with Grandma’am.

“Can you eat something, please? The stylists will be here soon,” he whispers.

His casual demeanor returns as Tigris’s attention does.

You follow his request, taking a bite of some sort of breakfast biscuit. It was fresh, and soft, even stone-cold. You could taste the butter in it. Real butter, not the imitation type found in the Districts.

“I am going to miss you,” Tigris sighed.

“We’re not staying here?” You turn to Coriolanus who had just taken another sip of his drink.

Your stomach fills with knots thinking about a new place. You didn’t want to move.

He swallows quickly, trying to answer you before anyone else.

“No. We’re going to the presidential estate, but we’ll come back and visit. And you're both always welcomed at the Presidential Palace.”

You jump as a ringing sound breaks through the air, looking around to try and see the small bell hidden in the room.

Coriolanus’s hand comes from the back of your chair to the back of your neck. “It’s okay,” he soothes.

He reaches for a panel of buttons built into the table and holds one in.

“Yes?” He answers the call.

“Mr. President, the PR team is here,” a voice spoke back.

“Send them up.” His hand returns from you, back to the chair.

“You don’t have long. Try to have another bite,” he commands.

You finish the breakfast biscuit by the time the two Peacekeepers escort a whole team of people up to the penthouse. It sat heavy in your stomach.

You see the same two women in the group. They stand side by side in ridiculous outfits. The one who had burnt you with a curling iron had a spiky, purple hat that reached tall into the sky.

Two racks of clothing, and four big black boxes on wheels, were carted behind them.

Coriolanus walks to the living room to greet them. They all congratulate him on his win, which he brushes off quickly to talk to the head stylist about the plan for today. They mutter between themselves, and the stylist shows Coriolanus a large book, pointing to the pictures. Coriolanus points down the hall, explaining the layout of the apartment.

The book shuts with a heavy snap, and the stylist turns to his workers directing them to their places.

The team split up behind Coriolanus, as he walked back over to you.

“You’ll go back to the bedroom. I’ll use one of the spares. If there are any problems, you come and find me.” He tells you.

You nod in response, noting that three other women follow the two women from yesterday down the hall.

Coriolanus says goodbye to Grandma’am and Tigris, before leading you back to the bedroom where he lets you go without a word. As he closes the door behind you, the women in the room snap their attention to you.

They all begin talking to you. Not one voice is heard but hands are felt all around you as they pull you into the bathroom.

They bicker amongst themselves on what needs to be done first. You had many faults that needed to be fixed before the signing. Your skin wasn’t tight or dewy enough. You needed a facial, and eyelash lift. Your chipped nails were disgusting. Your hair was dull and lifeless.

You feel vulnerable as hands dig harshly into your clothing, pulling it off your body. As you push hands away, more hands take their place. They call you difficult as you beg them to allow you to do it yourself.

The shower is turned on too hot, you could feel the heat of it standing five feet away.

Stripped, you notice the mess of semen still between your legs. Others notice it too and begin to giggle to themselves. Coriolanus had run a wet towel over you so you could sleep comfortably, but it wasn’t enough.

The shower was boiling as you were pushed under it. Your skin instantly turned red. The women themselves didn’t want to get wet, standing outside of the shower screen, and pulling you by your hair to bring you closer.

One lathers a strong-smelling liquid into your hair without much care, while another scrubs a hard brush against your skin to rid the old skin.

It hurt as it raked across your body without soap. The woman's rings got caught in your hair as she scrubbed your head, it yanked as she pulled back.

With a cry of pain, you are pushed back under the stream of hot water.

You think about running to find Coriolanus, but they are here now. Another team would not be sent. He would only reprimand them, and then you would be left alone with their wrath.

You sob instead. You should be at home. It was Wednesday. You were pretty sure. You should be at work, making idle chatter with your co-workers.

“Wash it out!” The woman commands, “We don’t have much time.”

Trying to appease her, you do a quick rinse under the water.

“All of it,” she sighs.

‘'The water’s too hot,’’ you cry. You felt like a cornered animal.

She looks at her co-workers annoyed. “Turn the water down,” she commands.

The water is turned ice-cold but you make no further complaint.

Another round of the strong-smelling liquid is harshly rubbed into your hair, and a nice-smelling lotion is rubbed into your skin.

The cold water makes you shiver as you stand under it, trying to wash everything off you.

The water is turned off leaving you standing shivering in the shower.

“Come on” the women demanded, “hurry”.

You go to her, and she throws a towel at you. It helps to dry the cold water off you, bringing back a little warmth.

They watch you as you dry yourself making you feel self conscious. The attempt to cover yourself with the towel is ripped from you, and thrown to the floor. You are once again being pushed instead of asked to do something.

You were laid flat on a table they had brought. Bare under their eye. Nothing was given so you could cover yourself.

Five women stand above you and begin work.

You close your eyes trying to dissociate from everything. A mask is put on your face, leaving space around your eyebrows so they can be waxed. Another oil is put on your hair and skin.

You could hear the buzzing of the laser and feel its zap as it took the hair off your body. She scaled the length of you with the laser, paying extra attention to your most private parts.

Only a reprimand was spoken to you as tears ran down your face. You were wasting the product with your tears.

For a long time, you laid still against the table as they worked. Your body became sore and stiff before they told you to get up and into the bedroom.

It was there you were given back your dressing gown and placed in front of a vanity.

The women talk amongst themselves as they work. Not one of them asks you anything. You tune them out, thinking about home.

It felt overstimulating to have so many people working on you at once. Someone cut your hair, while the other women took one hand or one leg. They massage more oil into your skin, before shaping and painting your nails. Your ring is given a shine, and they speak about how beautiful it was.

You feel their jealousy as they work. Your fingers were twisted into unnatural positions as they were filed. Your hair was pulled ruthlessly as it was cut. One woman stepped on your toes as she rose from the floor for some polish.

In your head, you were at home, baking for your market stall. Your mother would keep you company in the kitchen, reading a letter from your brother. He had found someone. A nice girl, who treats him well. He wasn’t lonely anymore and had plenty to eat. Edmund was alive, and you would see him when he finished work. He would be joyed at the news that his best friend found a girl, and after dinner that night you would sit with him and draft a letter explaining your new relationship.

It was a surprise when they all stopped to address the President.

You turn to see Coriolanus standing in the doorway with a large mug in his hands. He had been taken from his clothes this morning and undressed into a white singlet. He had no shoes on his feet, and his dress pants still had pins in them from the tailoring.

“It’s time for a break,” he announced. His hair appeared to be cut back, and slightly curled more. His skin glowed with treatment.

You had never been thankful to see him until that moment. A tear slipped from your eye and you quickly wiped it away.

“Sir, we still have lots to do,” one of the stylists said.

“Leave the room,” he commanded.

Tools are dropped as they follow his request.

The five women pass him through the door, and he kicks it closed as the last one leaves.

You get up from the vanities chair with a headache from all the pulling.

“I came to check on you. Are you okay?” he says.

The tea in his hands was a welcomed surprise. The hot shower had dehydrated you, and your crying left your throat scratchy. You take it from him and take three large gulps.

He takes your waist into his hands once they are free from the cup.

“Yeah,” you lie. Your voice was quiet and broken from having not spoken for a long period of time.

The tea was hot, burning your throat as you drank it, but it was good. You broke away from his hold, going to sit on the ottoman by the bed. He followed you as you sat.

Certain parts of your head felt like they were burning from the harsh treatment, You reached up to soothe the sore spots. Coriolanus’s hands follow yours. You knock them away, wanting nothing more than not to be touched.

He moves onto the bed behind you, sitting with either leg by your sides. His strong fingers reach into your hair and massage your scalp. It felt nice as his fingers dug into your head so you allowed him to do it.

You lean back into him, the hot cup burning your lap.

“Do you want to tell me something?” he gently asks.

His fingers press into a very sore spot on your head, causing you to wince and pull forward out of his hold.

He doesn’t let you sit up, pulling you back by your shoulders into him. His fingers go back to your hair once more, but he rakes his nails through your hair instead of pushing in.

He rakes his nails in a continuous backward motion, soothingly as he talks.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. That shouldn’t have hurt.”

A gentle kiss is placed against your ear.

“Are you alright? Do you want me to stay? I’ll stay.” He offers.

You think about it. The women would surely be kinder with Coriolanus in the room. But you didn’t want to admit you needed him. Worse, you didn’t want to feel indebted to him. After all, it was because of him you were going through this.

You get up from him once more, and he allows you to create distance as you go back to the vanity set.

“Leave me alone, Coriolanus,” you demanded.

You wipe the tears harshly away from your face, and he sits there watching you.

A gentle knock is heard at the door. Coriolanus rises to answer it.

“Come in,” he orders.

The women single file in, past him. Only he stops the women who had been barking orders at everyone all day.

You watch him in the mirror as he brings his hand down across her face.

A gasp leaves your lips as you watch her fall to the ground from the force.

“I entrusted her to you. If you make me regret it, I’ll make you regret it,” he warns, staring down at her with eyes that spoke of his anger.

He steps over her and back to his room.

“What did you say?” the woman in the purple hat hisses at you.

“Nothing,” you admit, “I said nothing. I promise.”

The woman who was hit gathers herself from the floor, coming over to you and pinching the skin on your arm between her long, fake nails.

“Well say less.” she rasped.

“It wasn’t my fault. He’s like that,” you contend, rubbing the skin she had pinched.

“Maybe to District scum, but not to us.”

“Your red cheek would suggest otherwise,” you sass.

It earns you a harsh tug on your hair as it is yanked to one side.

“Just do as you are told and face forward,” she spat.

She spins you by your hair towards the mirror. No more tears fall from your eyes, but a satisfied smirk stretches across your lips. The moment had made you feel powerful.

While their nail files dug into your skin, and your hair was gripped too tightly just to be cut, they no longer spoke. Coriolanus had scared them into silence.

A few moments later he reappears with his own styling crew as they struggle to bring everything they need into the room.

He sets up next to you, and under the watchful eye of Coriolanus, your stylists turn gentle. With your body done, they move to your hair and make-up.

The large room is crowded with all the people and equipment. The head stylist tries to persuade Coriolanus back to his own room, but he would hear none of it.

As your hair is curled and pinned into a loose bun, the iron used slipped slightly from her hands as she pinned. It burnt behind your ear, causing you to jump from the hot touch, but no sound escaped you.

Coriolanus noticed anyway.

“Be careful. Watch what you are doing”, he reprimanded.

“Yes, President Snow” the woman apologizes.

With a spray all over your hair, the woman steps back to admire her work.

“Alright. We are fifteen minutes behind schedule. We need to get her in her dress”, the woman with the red cheek called out.

Coriolanus was done. Only one stylist was there with him, shining his shoes.

They lead you to the bathroom with a dress bag.

As soon as the door was closed, one of the stylists who had remained quiet all morning began to speak.

“Yes, President Snow,” she mocked.

“Shut up,” the hair stylist barked.

The dress was pulled from the bag without a wrinkle.

It was a sweetheart, white satin, strapless gown. The bodice had pearls strung along it, and it curved up in the middle into a line of pearls.

It was matched with a pair of white heels with pearl straps and a jacket of the same material that was only meant to go around your shoulders and not to be worn, you learned.

The shoulders of the jacket clipped into the dress so it didn’t move.

“There,” the head woman snapped, “You’re done.”

You quickly rushed from her presence, back out to the bedroom where Coriolanus stood alone.

You turn back as you walk to him, expecting the woman to come from the bathroom. But they never do.

He takes you into his arms, gaining your attention from the door

“You look beautiful,” he comments.

He did too, but you wouldn’t admit it. He wore black instead of white, but his shirt and pocket square matched the material of your dress.

“Thank you,” you reply.

A slight squeak of the bathroom door had you pulling back. You would hate for them to see you so cozy in his arms. But the door never opens.

Coriolanus pulls you tight against him again, leaning down to whisper something to you.

“Do you want me to have them killed?” He asks.

“No,” you say, astonished that he could think of no other solution.

“It’s up to you,” he states, “Come on. We are late.”

He leads you back to the living room where Tigris and Grandma’am stood waiting amongst the stylists packing up.

“Give us time to settle in before you come to visit,” Coriolanus spoke to his family. He leans his tall frame down to kiss each of them.

“Of course,” Tigris answered. After she had kissed him, she moved over to you. Wrapping her arms around your shoulder, and placing a kiss on the corner of your head.

“We’ll see each other again soon,” she promises.

You smile back at her before she is replaced with Grandma’am. The older woman's hug is shorter and less affectionate.

With a final goodbye, you follow Coriolanus and a series of Peacekeepers to the elevator and down to the car park.

A sleek black car was waiting. A driver held out the back door, and Coriolanus placed you in the car first.

The Peacekeepers piled into a large truck. Only one sat in the front of your car with the driver.

The divider was raised so you couldn’t see them, but you could have sworn you had seen the Peacekeeper before. You wondered if Coriolanus had brought back men from District 12.

The car ride passed through the city. You had never seen such buzz. Colors and colors flew past you. Buildings that reached the sky gleamed. Tall statues were littered across the drive. You counted seven, and a possible eighth that flew past too fast to see more than a gray figure.

You wanted to put the window down for a better view as the tint from the window dulled some of the colors. But Coriolanus denied your request. The wind would undo the work done on your hair, and it was important that you arrived looking your best. He had promised to take you out again later with the windows down.

When you arrived at the presidential estate, it was surrounded by supporters of Coriolanus holding banners and sticks with a picture of Coriolanus’s face attached. They waited outside of the tall gates guarded by peacekeepers.

As the car passed them, screams and cheers deafened you.

It got worse when you entered the gates, the screaming was matched with flashes of white light.

Coriolanus was unbothered by it all. His focus is all on the approaching building in front of him.

The building was grand, surrounded by meticulously kept gardens. Large Panem flags hung on flag poles on either side of the staircase that led to the entrance. A line of staff stands at the top of the staircase. All of them were dressed in expensive white material that formed around their bodies in a long coat, and pants. Gold detailing was added to the stitches and a gold pin fashioned into the Panem symbol was pinned across their chest to keep their jacket closed.

Even the servants dressed nicer than the high society of District 12. They looked better fed too.

The car stopped as close as it could to the stairs and Coriolanus turned to you, taking your hand in his.

“Stay close to me. People are excited and that can cause them to act mindless.”

The door is opened by a Peacekeeper and Coriolanus leads you along the slim path through the sea of people.

People reach out to touch him, yelling out to gain his attention. But his mind stayed focused on the approaching building. A look of smug satisfaction and determination played across his features. You must have looked terrified as you followed him.

These people looked like animals. They frenzied around you with only a few Peacekeepers to keep them in check.

You stay as close as you can to Coriolanus, taking the back of his shirt into your spare hand.

The path ends as it comes to the bottom of the step. Coriolanus reaches his hand back to release you from his shirt, bringing you to stand by him as you climb the steps.

One woman in an all-black ensemble stood out in front of the line of staff. She greeted Coriolanus as he reached her on the steps.

“President Snow, an honor to serve you as your head of staff.”

She reached out her right hand but his right hand was latched around yours. He was hesitant to let it go.

She pauses when he doesn’t react but quickly switches out hands which Coriolanus accepts in a handshake.

Upon realizing your importance to him, she turns to you in a curtsy.

“And you, Mistress.”

The crowd cheers once more for President Snow. White roses are thrown from the crowd, falling on the road and upon the bottom of the stairs.

Peacekeepers push back against the crowd. Things were not to be thrown at the President.

“A pleasure. Perhaps we should get inside before the crowd decides to see how close they can get.” Coriolanus suggests.

The woman steps back, nodding her head quickly and too many times.

“Of course. If you would follow me, I will take you to the signing.”

The rest of the staff remain on the steps as you and Coriolanus follow the woman.

The loudness of the crowd was shut out from the big, heavy doors. It offered you two seconds of relief before taking in the vastness of the house.

The floors were polished and matched the furniture. A big lush thick carpet was laid out to add some warmth to the room. It was dark red and had cream accents that splayed out in intricate designs. The entryway must have been 50 feet in width and length but the red carpet covered nearly all of it.

Both you and Coriolanus looked around in wonder. Only Coriolanus was better at hiding his amazement. He acted indifferent as the women explained the history of the house. But you could see his eyes linger on the expensive and well-decorated decor of the house.

Staircases were everywhere, leading up and down in all different forms of design. The house was too big. It would be easy for a person to get lost but the woman led you without stumbling.

You wonder about her. How long had she been here? Was it a choice to serve the house?

She didn’t seem scared or upset. There were no marks upon her cream skin suggesting a lifetime of servitude. She wore make-up, and her thick, black hair was styled fashionably. But looks could be deceiving in the Capitol.

They liked to hide behind their fine things and sharp appearances.

She leads you into a large office. The original flag of Panem hung framed behind a large desk. The dirt and blood that had gathered on it during the war blotted the bright colors.

Only five reporters were allowed into the room, amongst a few other important people. They all greeted Coriolanus with a firm handshake. Only one reporter was female, and she towered over the men, assisted by her six-inch heels. She looks at your ring, and you notice an absence of one on hers.

She was too smart to get trapped by the Capitol men.

Coriolanus thanked them for being here with his dazzling smile while you stood behind him mute, and useless.

The women who brought you in interrupted the polite conversation between the group.

“President Snow, it is custom to sit in the chair while signing,” she directed.

“Yes,” Coriolanus obliged, leading you behind the large oak desk.

You tug your hand from him as he sits. They wanted him, not you.

A dark green plush couch with colorful cushions called out to you. You needed to sit as your legs felt like jelly.

“President Snow, did you want the picture with or without your First Lady?” The woman reporter asked as she readied her camera.

“With.” Coriolanus beckoned you closer but your legs would not cooperate.

You stood until the head of staff pushed you forward.

“Alright, dear, you stand behind your husband and don’t forget to smile. Big smile!” She commands.

You are thankful that her hands moved you into position. The referral to Coriolanus as your husband froze you. She told you once more to smile which activated your lips into a thin smile.

“Okay, Mr. President when you’re ready,” one of the male reporters called.

The cameras flash blinding you as Coriolanus signs his name on the parchment.

His signature is a series of neat loops finished by a long line that curled underneath his name.

It was official. Coriolanus Snow would now rule over Panem. With the hopes that it was over, you go to move back out of the camera frames but it only caught the attention of the journalists.

“Mrs. Snow, how about a kiss for the President?” One of the reporters called out. The comment frenzied the rest who shouted out encouragements.

Coriolanus turns out to you in his chair, permitting you to follow the command.

So you do. Bending down to his height and placing a kiss on his lips. He steadies you with a hand on the side of your face so that the kiss deepens.

The cameras liked that. You pull away, but Coriolanus' hand keeps you in place.

His thumb brushes against the lipstick that had smudged getting rid of it before wiping his hand over his mouth.

A make-up artist comes over to him, helping him to rid the lipstick off his face and reapplying power from a compact.

“Okay, can we get a shot of just the President staring down the lens with the flag in the background?” The woman once more directs.

You move quickly out of the way as the journalists kneel on the floor for the shot, and point their cameras up.

You find comfort on the couch and watch as Coriolanus is directed for the magazine shots.

When he is not directed to stare into a camera his eyes are on you, making sure that you are still in the room.

A deep regret sets on your posed photos. You should have said no. Coriolanus would be too cautious to correct you in front of what constituted the entirety of Panem. You could have gotten away with it. Now your family was sure to see the photos of you happily smiling behind him. Kissing him, with a diamond ring on your finger.

What would Edmund's family think? Your own family would think of you as a traitor. What would the family who lost everything due to you think? Edmund was keeping them afloat. How would they get by now? Would your brother take care of them as Edmund took care of his family? Would they accept the help of a traitor's brother?

Coriolanus stands from the desk in front of the reporters.

“As you can imagine, yesterday was a long day. If you are satisfied with the photos I would like to settle in with my new wife.”

“Of course, Mr. President,” was the resounding response.

He comes to collect you on the couch as the head of staff briefs the people in the room on what is to happen now.

“No one is to leave this room. Peacekeepers will come and escort you out. You and your equipment will be searched before you are released back to your firm. The President thanks you for your time and service to your country.”

Coriolanus brings your arm to loop through his as you follow the woman back out into the vast space of the house.

She takes you up a large, twin staircase back at the main entrance of the house, and along a corridor lined with a long carpet. At the very end came a double-door entrance that stretched from the very bottom, all the way to the top.

This was the President's quarters. She unlocks the door with a key that was passed to Coriolanus, and swings open the doors so you can see the space.

Another enormous space was filled with plush rugs and expensive furniture. Back home a house consisted of the bare necessities. In the Capitol, they had space for every activity and filled it with unnecessary furniture.

A breakfast nook, a long dinner table, a sitting area, a living room, a walk-in coat closet, two full bathrooms, a tall wine fridge, and a set-up bar were all contained within the floor. A staircase that led up suggested that there was more to the living space.

The woman asks if she can do anymore, but Coriolanus assures her there is nothing to be done but rest now.

She shows Coriolanus a button he could push to call for a servant before bidding him goodbye.

He was quick to shut the door behind her as you wandered into the apartment.

“What do you think?” He asks.

“People live like this?” You run a hand over a soft blanket draped over the couch.

“I never have,” he admits.

From a war-ruined boy, to a Peacekeeper, to Commander of District 12, Coriolanus lived far from the luxury of the Capitol.

He got nights of Capitol living when he came to visit from District 12 but his home had always been rat-infested slums.

“It’ll feel more like home when you settle in, and make it your own.”

“It’ll never feel like home,” you remark snidely.

Coriolanus picks up a small decorative statue and examines it.

“Well not your home back in District 12, but your home in the Capitol.”

He places the statue back down and holds out his hand for you to take.

“Shall we see upstairs?”

Upstairs was as impressive as down. Six spare bedrooms each with their own bathrooms and ready for guests, a sizable private study that conjoined to a lavish sleeping arrangement.

You open the doors to your closet to find that it already had been filled with clothing. A pair of comfortable-looking pants and a singlet call out to you, and you ask Coriolanus if you could change.

He gives you permission, telling you that he was going to look around the estate but he would be back soon.

The bathroom had heated tiles which helped to keep you warm as you tried to figure out the shower. There was a pad with buttons that had too many commands to work.

You finally figure it out with pure luck and a heavy stream of water shoots out from the shower head.

You shower off the make-up and hair spray. Some glitter that had been dusted on your skin had to be scrubbed off which left you red, and pruny from the time it took.

Another battle to turn off the water, before you could reach for a white fluffy towel off the rack. It was warm too from the heated rack.

With Coriolanus gone, you explored the room. Everything was set up as if you already lived here.

You find a book about the history of Panem in the bookcase and flick through it. It talked about the Dark Days. How District people were dangerous and out to ruin Capitol life.

Large black and white pictures taken during the war were displayed in large form across the page. The Capitol during the war looked like District 12 now.

The next page showed a photo of rebels being lined up to be shot. The page after that had a photo of a man. A general during the war. The name shocked you.

General Crassus Snow. He looked a little like Coriolanus. Same blonde hair and blue eyes, but without the name, you wouldn’t have known.

A hero they called him. It turned out Coriolanus wasn’t lying to you when he said his father was killed in 12. You wondered how that must have felt for him, to go back there and rule over the place that left him fatherless.

A little blurb read that Crassus Snow was known to have an excellent head for strategy and nerves of steel. With a commanding presence that rose him quickly through the military ranks before he was cowardly killed in an ambush.

Coriolanus had followed in his father’s footsteps. The page could have been Coriolanus' autobiography.

Your fingers trace the photo of the man standing tall in his uniform. If he was alive, you doubt he would have let Coriolanus get involved with you. But he wasn’t, and you were here, trapped in the Capitol, while he was buried somewhere in District 12.

You continue with the book, scoffing as they skew history to fit their narrative. War was never one-sided.

You hear him as he enters the study. The door was heavy and loud.

Expecting him to appear, you continue flipping through the pages of the book.

But time passes with no appearance.

You finish the book and go to find out what he is doing.

Taking the side door, you could see his back as it faced a large painting on the far wall. You knew from school that the picture was of the past President Ravenstill.

He gazes at the portrait with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Coriolanus?” You call. It breaks his concentration, and he unhooks himself from his rigid posture to extend his hand out to you. But he never faces away from the painting.

You rush to accept his hand, looking up at the painting with him. There was nothing special about it. An oil painting that depicted a hateful man in a powerful position.

But something about it captivates Coriolanus.

“Are you alright?” you ask. His broody eyes normally meant bad things for you.

“You see this?” He bends his forehead to your level and points to a faint scar on the top corner of his head.

“During the war, I went looking for scraps around the Presidential palace. I found a great big bucket full of half-eaten bones with meat still on them just sitting there over the fence, so I reached my hand in to try and get one. I was found by a Peacekeeper who informed me that the President said they were for his dogs and left me with a scar from the butt of his rifle.”

He looks away from you and back to the painting. You were grateful for it. There was a darkness in his eyes that scared you.

“Now I am the man in the palace,” he mutters.

“I am sorry that happened to you.”

He smiles at your words. Pity was something he wanted from no one but you.

“You can do a lot of good, Coriolanus,” you temper with a squeeze to his hand.

He nods his head in agreement, “I will. The Capitol will flourish under me.”

“You could do good in the Districts too. You saw the disadvantages there.”

His grip around your hand tightened, and his jaw locked in place. The painting was no longer of any interest. You now bore his intense stare.

“I saw a bunch of animals clawing at each other to get ahead. You should be thankful that I saved you.”

“Saved me?” You questioned.

He had not saved you from a burning building but taken you from your bed at night.

“It wouldn’t have been long before the animals tore into you.”

The hold on your hand loosens and he takes a step back from you.

“I’ll ring down for lunch.” He disappears from the room, leaving you in front of the painting. That night it was replaced with one of Coriolanus. The painting of him was still wet but hung proudly in the room.

The next morning after a luxurious breakfast you went straight back to bed and stayed there until Coriolanus returned home.

You had no idea if he locked the door on his way out, you never checked. There was nothing out there for you. No family or friends to shield you in their arms. No familiar faces, or sense of community.

Tigris and Grandma’am visited on the weekend, wanting to be shown around. But you only knew the bed, and Coriolanus spent too many hours at the official office downstairs to know the little details of the apartment. The head of staff was called again to show the group around the property. It took nearly half an hour to explore the place.

Grandma’am was too old to do that much walking but she wouldn’t slow down. She had dreamt about this day, longer than Coriolanus had. She held on to him as he assisted her in walking, and you held her handbag.

They stayed for coffee and cake which delighted Coriolanus. You spoke very little, even as Tigris tried to coax a conversation out of you. The crushing weight of defeat was hindering your ability to be social.

When they left, you got an earful from Coriolanus, who was disappointed in your behavior. All was forgiven, however, when the lights turned off and you were alone in bed with him.

The staff thought it was odd when you insisted that you would do the cleaning and cooking for yourself and Coriolanus. He took great pride in it. Feeling as if it was a testimony of your love. But in truth, your days were so much longer without it.

Sometimes there were visitors from the Academy or acquaintances from high society. Grandma’am and Tigris came over consistently but most of the time you were left completely alone.

For a brief period, while the facilities for you to cook and clean were installed, you lived back in the Snow Penthouse.

You enjoyed other company besides Coriolanus. One night after he was finished with you, you asked him if home could be here instead of the Presidential Palace.

He gave a laundry list of reasons as to why that wouldn’t be possible. The Presidential Palace was safer. It was the place where the President and the First Lady were supposed to live. Besides he didn’t want Tigris, and Grandma’am around while he adjusted to married life. You knew it all boiled down to the fact he simply didn’t want to.

—------------------

The night you return to the Presidential Palace, he comes to bed with a stack of papers.

“Look,” he leans closer to you, holding out a bit of paper that you couldn’t read under the sporadic flashes of light from the Tv.

“My first official act as President. Schools will now provide breakfast and lunch free of charge for every school student.”

“I thought children in the Capitol never had to worry about food”.

“Some do,” he responds, “There are poorer and richer classes in the Capitol too. Not to the extent of the Districts, but we have our own troubles in the Capitol.”

The Capitol people, no matter how poor, were not treated like animals, and terrorized by a militant group. They were still Capitol, and thus worthy of respect.

“And university is free for those in the top 10% of their cohort. I’ll make the announcement first thing tomorrow morning.”

“That’s wonderful” you praise, although you cared little for the new change.

He felt as if the bill would rewind the clock. Damn the Hunger Games, and the Plinth Prize. If he could bury the mistakes of his past, they never happened.

—----------------

Coriolanus grew desperate for a baby after his first month of presidency. He wished he had gotten you pregnant back in District 12 so he could have a baby halfway through his first term. But he didn’t dwell on the past when he could focus on the future.

He tried desperately every night to put a baby in you, but nothing stuck.

He grew worried that time in the Districts had made you barren. After a very uncomfortable examination by a doctor who assured him that you were able to bear children, but simply have not.

The thought of children made you feel sick. You had no idea how you would manage it on top of everything. You did not want his children, but how could you stop him? He was the one who decided your future.

Every morning he would wait outside of the bathroom door for you to do a test. You would bring a negative result back, and his face would sag.

His frustration was rough in form. Since election night, fun was the only objective for Coriolanus. But as his want for a child grew, teasing and pleasing you were secondary to his need. Again and again, in the same night, he would manhandle you in positions he thought were best. They left him with a sore wife and no baby to show for it.

A doctor had suggested that extreme stress can disrupt the ovulation cycle making it difficult to plan strategic timing of sex. This had annoyed Coriolanus greatly. You went on only a few official obligations in which you stayed by Coriolanus. You were fed, clothed, and rested. There was no extreme stress in your life that would hinder you from his baby.

You verbally agreed with his rant but laughed in private at his delusional hissy fit.

Every night when he was finished, he would sleep thinking tomorrow he would wake with good news.

One day he did. He was getting ready to go down to the office, waiting for you to present him with the test.

You expect the same as before, but as you expect the test, you notice an instant difference.

Scrambling for the box, you check the instructions. A cold shot through you as you looked back to see the indication of pregnancy.

In hope you take another one.

Coriolanus knocks on the door, telling you he has to leave soon.

You don’t care, you stare at the test waiting for a negative result.

It appeared the same as the other.

Coriolanus calls out again. On auto-pilot, you unlock the door and show him the test. He knew from your expression that it was positive but he looks anyway.

He kisses you deeply, but you can’t move against him. You were going to be a mother. Die nursing Coriolanus’s babies.

“A baby,” he says joyously. He brings his hand to your stomach and smiles, “A Snow.”

He ushers you back into bed, and calls for a maid to come tend to you while he is at work. All day you only move to throw up once.

The maid annoys you all day by asking you to do things. You just wanted to cry in bed without an audience.

As soon as the news was announced, floods of gifts came piling into the apartment. Designer clothes, a gold crib, flowers, and chocolate were sent for you. You threw them all out.

Every day you spend organizing and putting away presents only for more to come.

If you had thought your life was miserable before pregnancy, your life was unbearable while you were pregnant. Coriolanus was anxious about losing the baby.

The whole nine months at breakfast each morning a doctor checked for any complications. It made it difficult to eat which frustrated you as you woke every morning with great hunger. Only to throw it up again by mid-morning.

You were young and healthy so the pregnancy was low risk. Due to the rations in the Districts, your iron was low, but with your meals now being made by qualified chefs and nutritionists it quickly came back up to an acceptable level.

Coriolanus insisted that everything was a risk. Cooking over a hot stove, or bending to clean. You came to work with him like you did at the Compound. It was then you realized that he was more worried about you self-sabotaging the pregnancy than he was about the chemicals in cleaning products.

You grew big and uncomfortable. With the hormones raging in your body you would cry randomly during the day. One time when Tigris came to drop off the baby clothes she had made you, Coriolanus insisted she stayed for tea in the garden.

It was a beautiful day, and you had company other than Coriolanus. It was one of your better days. But upon seeing a dead baby bird at the edge of the garden, you began to cry uncontrollably.

You resisted Coriolanus' hold as he shouted for the bird to be taken away. The scene greatly shocked Tigres who quickly left when Coriolanus returned you to your room.

In addition to the mood swings, your baby kicked all day long giving you little rest. It took a toll on your appearance, leaving you looking half-dead.

Everywhere you turned someone was handing you a pillow and a blanket or offering you food. You felt like the main attraction at a circus. The only good thing about the pregnancy was that no meant no.

Coriolanus was far more respectful of your boundaries. All you had to put up with was his interactions with his unborn child. He liked to speak to it in your stomach and feel it kick. On daily walks for the baby's health, he would hold the bump as he accompanied you around the grounds. He was excited to be a father but you were terrified of being a mother in an entirely different world than your own.

Both you and Coriolanus attended parenting classes to help with the transition. Even raising babies was different in the Capitol. Mothers were not supposed to leave the house for 40 days after the birth. District women went back to work before the week was out.

The teachers talked about safe sleeping practices in a cot, District babies slept in a basket cushioned with rags.

Special food was designed for every stage of toddler life here. Babies back home ate what was available.

The classes made you grateful that your child was Capitol. At least you could give them a happy, comfortable life.

Coriolanus would ensure the best for his child that you were sure of.

—--------

Nine months passed quickly. One early morning you woke up in a great deal of pain. Coriolanus was still asleep next to you. You knew the baby was ready to come, but you were not ready for the baby.

You try to delay the baby. The midwife said you had another week.

A hot bath stops the pain for a little while, but the sound of running water wakes Coriolanus. You’re in the bath for thirty minutes before he rises from bed to join you.

He doesn’t knock as he enters. There was a time when you would have tried to cover up, but those days were long gone.

Coriolanus kneels by the bathtub and places a hand on your rounded stomach.

“Kicking, is he?” Coriolanus asks.

“Yeah. Something like that,” you state.

“He’s just excited to be here next week.”

As if it was a call to action, your stomach begins to contract painfully tight. You wince, trying hard to keep a sound from coming out.

“Are you alright?” He asks with concern.

“Yes. Can you help me out of the tub?”

The plug is pulled by twisting a round knob to your left, and the water drains quickly.

He helps you out of the tub gently, wrapping you in a towel and helping you walk to your wardrobe.

All of your pregnancy clothes were loose dresses that fell down to your ankles. You picked a light blue one but as the fabric fell around your body, your stomach gave a harsh twist. It felt as if your stomach muscles were being pulled from your stomach.

You feel Coriolanus place a hand on your back.

“I’ll call for the doctor,” he says.

The doctor and his nurses had been moved into the presidential palace for the pregnancy. Coriolanus wanted to be sure that if anything went wrong, a team of experts was at hand.

“No,” you moan, “He’s just moving that’s all.”

The next contraction had you yelling and kneeling over in pain.

“Is he coming?” His voice carried an excitement that could only be found in a person not about to give birth.

“To the bed,” he demands, “Come on.”

The team is quickly called up, bringing with them scary-looking machines. Your doctor had previously explained what they did and how he would deliver the baby. But none of it mattered now. You were terrified.

Coriolanus only left your side to get dressed. The labor was nearly fourteen hours, during which Coriolanus held your hand and waited for the contractions to get closer together.

He tried his best to make you comfortable. Hard pillows were brought in for you so you could sit up, and he held a water bottle close, ready for you.

As you enter the second stage of labor, the pain intensifies as your body gets ready for the push. Your fear spikes, knowing that a baby would soon be placed in your care.

“No, no,” you mutter. This wasn’t supposed to be like this, You were supposed to be married to the love of your life, and have your mother to coach you through this.

“You’re alright, darling. He is almost here,” Coriolanus dabbed an ice-cold rag over your forehead as he spoke.

“No,” you state more forcibly, “I want my mother.”

“Mrs. Snow, you need to start pushing,” the doctor instructs. Your body pushes automatically, causing a painful groan to resound around the room.

Coriolanus gives you words of encouragement but they buzz in your ear. The sound of your mother's name coming from your lips was the only thing you heard.

“You don’t need her. Just keep going.” He soothes.

You scream at the pain. The room felt as if it was on fire around you, but you knew it was cold outside. The world began to blur, the beeping of the machines and talk of the medical team lapped.

You look towards the doorway as your body begins to push again. You swear you see your mother peeking in.

“Mum!” you scream, “Mum, please, don’t leave me.”

“No, No.” Coriolanus consoles.

“No. Coriolanus, I want my mother. Where’s my brother?” You ask in a state of panic that brings tears to your eyes.

“Mrs. Snow, push.” The doctor bids.

“No!” you scream back, “Not without my mum.”

“Mrs. Snow, this baby is coming. You don’t have time,” the doctor says.

“Push,” Coriolanus tells you.

“Please, Coriolanus, please,” you beg. All you wanted was to see her. If he didn’t want you to speak that would be fine. You just needed to see your mother as you delivered your first child.

“What have you done?” You sob, looking at his worried face.

“I haven’t done anything,” he defends, “You need to start pushing.”

Pain ripples through your body and you push to ease it.

Three big pushes that burn, and suddenly the pressure in your stomach is gone.

A loud cry fills the room, in constellation with your heavy panting.

The crying buddle is brought to you by the doctor, but you push his hands away. One peak at his light blonde hair had you feeling sick. He was supposed to have dark hair like Edmund’s. He was supposed to be Edmund’s child.

Instead, the child was given to Coriolanus who accepted him into his arms.

“Coriolanus, where is my mother?” You ask.

“She’s not here. You know that,” he answers.

Still, you scream for her to save you.

“Commander Snow, please! Just let me see her,” you beg.

He looks down at you puzzled, with the screaming child in his arms.

Despite feeling as if you had been hit by a train, you attempt to rise which is discouraged by everyone in the room.

Coriolanus steps forward to stop you, but won’t release his hands from his son.

You feel the pressure from the nurses on your shoulder as they press you back into the mattress.

“Sir, can I administer a sedative to calm her?” a nurse asks.

Coriolanus nods at the nurse, and she inserts a needle into your IV drip.

“Get off. No!” You try to tug against the IV connection, but your hands are pinned down.

“Mum!” you shout, “Archie!”

The sedative works fast. You soon find yourself unable to hold your head up. The fight kicked out from under you.

You watch as Coriolanus holds tight to the small blanket.

“Commander, please.” You mumble, but hear no response as you slip into a deep sleep.

—-----------

When you wake it feels as if each limb has been torn from your body, and you have been hastily stitched together again.

The room is blurred but your eyes are opened. You could feel their sting as you failed to blink.

You had a son, you think, but where is he? Why can’t I hear him crying?

With newfound motivation you will yourself to get your bearings.

Your muscles move at your control once more, and your eyes focus on the lamp on the table.

As you regain control, you hear footsteps by the end of the bed. Your head rolls on the pillow to see Coriolanus as he stands over a bassinet, still for a second, before he reaches down and picks up your baby, wrapped tightly and swaddled.

You wanted to call out and demand that he place your baby back down but you were still hazy from the drugs. You're too slow to gain back your voice.

He sits in a nearby rocking chair with the baby tightly in his arms, beginning to rock gently as he gazes down at the small bundle.

The baby fusses slightly but is soon soothed back to sleep.

Seeing your baby in no harm, you try and sit up

“Coriolanus,” you call. His eyes shoot up to watch you as you rise into a sitting position but go back to your baby as he speaks.

“Take it easy. He’s okay,” he consoles.

“Is he healthy?” You ask.

Coriolanus smiles down at his son, as he rocks back and forth.

“He’s perfect. I’ve named him, Crassus Alexander Snow, after my father.”

You hate that your son is named after the man in the book. You hate that Coriolanus has named him without your approval. Your son wasn’t a doll for him to play with. He had taken enough from you, now it felt as if he was after your son too.

“You named him?” Your voice was hard with your displeasure.

“I had to. The nurses needed a name. Don’t worry you can have the next one.”

The next one. Not even 24 hours after an excruciating labor, and he was talking about the next one.

Looking around, you see that you only felt like you had just given birth. The machines, apart from your IV drip next to you, had been taken back. The bed was fresh under you, and you had been changed into comfortable pajamas.

You lean back into the bed, silent. This was not how you pictured your first child. You wanted your mother and brother to see him.

You picture seeing them again. Just one last time to say goodbye.

The thought of it makes you break the silence you otherwise never would have broken.

“Coriolanus, do you think I could write to my mother to let her know I had a child?” You ask quietly.

He is quiet which worries you. Your mother would know when the Capitol news circulated through the District, but you were hoping to at least let her know you tried to tell her.

“Yes, you should,” he finally spoke.

He gets up from the rocker and walks slowly towards your bed.

“Here, do you want to hold him?”

You open your arms for Coriolanus to place your son into.

He fits perfectly and doesn’t wake.

You stare at him. He didn’t feel like your son. Crassus was a small baby, with light blonde hair. Not how you imagined him.

Coriolanus lays on the bed next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders so he could bring you close.

“Thank you,” he says, “I know how scared you were. You called for your mother. Do you remember?”

You were hoping that he wouldn’t mention it. That it could just be something that happened and then forgotten.

“Did I?” you fawn.

You're careful to keep your eyes on your son, and not to look anywhere that could gain Coriolanus's attention.

He captures it anyway by bringing your chin up to his height.

“You did so well, and I am so proud of you,” he praises. He places a quick kiss on your lips before drawing his head back.

“I love you.” He states. His eyes look at you expecting.

“I love you too, Coriolanus.”

You never know if the letter you write is sent home. No return was ever given.

—--------------

A week later your baby boy lay between you and Coriolanus on the bed. He was sleeping after you had just fed him. It took a while for you to feel connected to him but now a mother's bond was established, and you could watch him sleep for hours.

Coriolanus ran his finger down the side of his baby's face and down to his little belly, rubbing soothing circles to try and help him digest the milk.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Coriolanus spoke to you but kept his gaze on his child.

“Yes,” you agree.

You wished your mother could see your baby. To hold him as is her right as a grandmother. You had wanted to ask Coriolanus, but you knew the answer. Still, you had to ask. Maybe he would be kinder to you after birthing his child.

“Coriolanus, I was wondering if I might be able to take him back home to see my family?”

His eyes shot up at you. The answer was more than no, it was how dare you.

“Don’t you ever ask me that again.” he seethes.

You held little hope that he would agree so his denial hurt less.

“Can we video call them?” you try to compromise.

“No,” his answer was hard and cold, “Put him in his bassinet and come back.” He commanded.

Crassus’s bassinet was only at the end of your bed. Coriolanus wanted to keep him close.

Your baby stirs as you gently pick him up but settles back into his mother's arms. He was so milk-drunk that the normal fight to set him into his bassinet was won with a gentle rock.

You knew you were in trouble with Coriolanus. The only time you had wished that your baby fought sleep was so you could avoid Coriolanus’ wrath.

He holds his tongue until you are back lying next to him.

“I don’t want you speaking about your family ever again. I don’t want our son to know that you are District. Think about them if you must, but if you continue to speak about them, I will have them killed.”

“They are my family,” you spat.

“We are your family. Us. Your son and your husband.”

You get up from next to him, even though you know you shouldn’t.

“Lay back down,” he demands.

“I’ve done everything you have asked of me,” you snivel, “Gone to every event where they look at me like a trained animal. Cooked your meals, washed your clothes. Gave you a son, just like you wanted.”

Your voice was wobbly and raised. The hormones that were still raging through your body from birth trapped you between uncontrollable sadness and an unquenchable fury.

“Be quiet. You’ll wake Crassus,” Coriolanus scolded.

“I don’t care!” You yell.

Coriolanus looks to the bassinet at the end of the bed, expecting his son to wake, crying.

All is silent. You lower your voice as you continue speaking. If you upset Crassus all conversation would stop.

“Crassus doesn’t have to come. I can have a one-hour phone call a month without him. He doesn’t have to know, but I can’t live like this.”

His eyes snapped to you as he lay in the bed. “Can’t live like this? I have given you a life so terrible that you can’t bear it?”

He rises from the bed, and you take a step back. You were in a bad condition after birth. There was no way you could defend yourself against him.

“Nothing I do for you is ever good enough for you” he exclaims. His eyes squint at you but his voice is calm and collected, “You know how dangerous it was for me to help you in 12? A Commander, and a District girl. How that looked for me in my presidential run? But I didn’t care. From the day I met you, I have looked after you. And you want me to feel in debt to you, because why? You cook the food I give you? Wash the clothes I buy? Birthed a beautiful son that you never would have had without me.”

“You didn’t ‘take care of me’, Coriolanus. You took me. I never asked for any of it. I want to go home to my family.”

Coriolanus stood across from you, his face unmoving and hard.

“You’re right. Family is important,” he suddenly says. His face relaxes, and body unwinded.

He moves quickly to the end of the bed where Crassus lies.

“Your brother had a child. A little girl, named after you,” he rocks the bassinet gently despite his threatening words.

“You want to see her? I can bring her here,” he taunts.

“No,” you whisper.

“No? All this talk of family, and the answer is no?’’

He looks down at his sleeping baby, checking for any signs of distress.

“I could bring them all here. They could work in the presidential estate. You’re the only one who doesn’t have to earn their keep”.

You imagine them dressed in the same white uniforms as the other servants. How much control Coriolanus would have over their lives daily.

“That’s not what I am asking,” you state.

“You’re asking to have your family around you, and I couldn’t agree more. Unless you don’t consider them family?”

“Well?” he pushes after a moment of silence.

“No.”

“Who do you consider family then?”

“You and Crasuss,” you gave the answer he wanted to hear.

“That’s right!” He cooed, running a hand over Crassus’s head, “Just us. All you need is us.”

He straightens once more, giving his full attention back to you.

“I am not asking you to be grateful, but I will not allow you to be thankless,” he shoves his hands in his pockets in a casual manner.

“You should sleep as he sleeps,” he suggests. He wanted the fight to be over, and the newborn bliss to continue.

“Lay back down, and go to sleep. No more talk of Districts.”

He leaves you in the room with your son, retreating from any further fighting.

You wondered if it was true. Did Archie have a baby?

Some part of you hoped it was true, and that she would fill the void of you in their lives. Just as Crassus filled the void for you.

—-----------

With the success of Crasuss, Coriolanus was eager to have another one. You were still getting used to motherhood. You weren’t sure if you could deal with this one, let alone another one.

Coriolanus stayed home with you for the 40 days that you were supposed to be on bed rest. He was up late with work, and then during the night with Crasuss.

He tried to give you as much rest as he could. But Crassus needed you for feedings, and sometimes he would only settle if he was in your arms.

Coriolanus was unversed in assessing others' needs. He would bounce Crassus when he needed to be held, change his diaper when he needed to be fed, and give him toys that were too old for him.

He couldn’t decipher his cries like you could, leaving him frustrated.

You knew he tried, which was more than you expected of him.

You wake from the sound of your son crying from what feels like a two second nap. Coriolanus tried to prolong it for you by trying to soothe the baby himself.

“He needs to be burped,” you tell Coriolanus, “Put him up on your shoulder and pat his back.”

He had only just fed so you knew it was just tummy pain.

Coriolanus does as you say. Crassus settles as he is put upright but no burp comes.

“It’s not working,” Coriolanus panics. Every little thing the doctor was to be called to check it out.

“Keep going,” you encourage.

Coriolanus sighs in relief when Crassus lets out a little burp and returns to being a happy baby.

“You’re good at this,” he commented, “ A natural.”

He always knew you would be, but to see it in action filled him with great joy and admiration.

You huff in response, closing your eyes to go back to sleep.

Coriolanus had to go back to his usual duties, leaving you with the full responsibilities of being a mother.

It was overwhelming to have no one else to talk to but a baby. You spent your days in the apartment which drove you crazy.

You eye the door. Coriolanus never told you to stay in the apartment. It was just an assumption you made. You knew you would never get outside of the gates, but you would settle for the gardens.

With your baby in your arms, you cautiously twist the knob.

There is no booby trap as you step out. No alarm rings. So you continue your journey.

You vaguely remember the way from when you were out of the apartment with Coriolanus.

A maid was polishing the wood of the staircase you needed to go down. You curse but try to act casual as you approach her.

“Mrs. Snow,” the maid seemed surprised to see you, “Can I do something for you?”

“No. I am just going to the gardens,” you justify.

You walk quickly away from her. You hear her calling your name but you don’t stop.

The house is large and echos as you make your way across it. The entrance out into the gardens was almost hidden.

You wanted to run, but you were careful not to shake your baby too much.

The big door comes into view. A sense of excitement and apprehension overcame you. You had never been outside of the Presidential quarters without Coriolanus. Now you were stepping outside. It felt as if you were gaining some independence back.

When you open the door, you are confronted with a Peacekeeper, who stands aside out of your way.

You thank him as you move past him, but he follows wordlessly as you cross the field.

The maid had called the Peacekeeper on you, who called Coriolanus on you, and Coriolanus had told the Peacekeeper to keep an eye on what you were doing.

You find a spot under a tree in the lowest field, the Peacekeeper stands ten feet away to give you and your baby some privacy.

You play with your baby in the short grass. He liked the feeling of it.

Some maids come, bringing a picnic blanket, and a glass of lemonade.

You thank them although you wanted none of their assistance.

Crassus has some tummy time listening to the birds. You lay back on the grass and watch the sun as it goes down. It was comforting to know that your mother and brother would be looking at the same sun. As far away as they were, at least something still connected you.

You tell Crassus about them and he babbles back as if he was trying to talk. You tell him about Edmund in the prime of his life. You don’t discuss Edmund’s death or his father's involvement.

You begin to explain District 12 to him just as the sun disappears behind the trees, when you hear the Peacekeeper stand to attention in greeting. You shut up immediately.

“It’s time to come inside” Coriolanus’s voice is heard.

He picks his son up and places him on his shoulder after a quick kiss.

You get up with the blanket and cup as you follow him back to the house.

Coriolanus takes the items from you and gives them to the Peacekeeper in passing.

“Look at this,” Coriolanus pulls out a small doll from his pocket, “A senator's little girl gave it to me. She was so cute. We should try for a girl next.”

You still had four weeks before the doctor gave you the go-ahead to engage in intercourse. But you knew Coriolanus would push the limits on that time frame.

“I want to wait at least a year before another one,” you tell him.

It already was so difficult, you wouldn’t survive having to care for another one.

“No,” Coriolanus protested, “I would like a girl before the years out.”

You knew how obsessive Coriolanus could be when he had a thought trapped in his head. You also knew that nothing you said was going to change his mind.

You wait until Crassus is asleep, and your shift with Coriolanus starts.

He was waiting for you like he usually is. After Crassus was asleep, it was his turn to have his wife.

He had opened a bottle of wine and was flicking through the tv channels. It surprised him when you dropped to your knees in front of him.

Your hands reach for his trousers, and he eagerly helps you to take them off. During pregnancy he didn’t want to force you to do anything, thinking that it might harm the baby. After he was born, there was a recovery period that he had to wait through. It left Coriolanus pent up and hungry for your touch.

Your lips were warm on him and worked so well.

After all of your experience, you knew what Coriolanus liked. You swatted his hands off you as he tried to take control. He relents, bringing his hands to his thighs in a tight grip.

You feel it grow in your mouth with your attention. It twitches under your tongue and you knew it as a sign he was close.

Just as he is reaching his high, you drag your lips back and off.

He gasps as you do, throwing his head back onto the couch.

“What are you doing?” He groans. He was irritated, which was not your desired effect.

“Crassus turns one before another baby,” you demand.

His hands curl into the couch as he counters, “Eight months.”

You move to get up but his hands stop you, “Okay, okay, a year. Just finish.” He begs.

You do finish him off, with the smug satisfaction that Coriolanus Snow is just a man.

The day Crassus turns one, Coriolanus keeps you to your bargain.

Coriolanus was determined to have a girl. Clothes and bows had already been brought.

While Capitol technology allowed you to artificially change the sex of your baby, Coriolanus was more interested in conceiving the natural way.

He researched old myths to increase his chances, and he tried all of them.

He made you drink lemon juice before sex. He initiated sex on even days of the week. You were on a diet of fish, eggs, and vegetables. And you had to leave your legs raised for a couple of minutes after he was finished.

You were slow to conceive like you were with Crassus. But one of the old wives' tales worked, for nearly nine months after Crassus turned one, you fell pregnant with a baby girl.

You named her Aurora meaning dawn. A silent homage to your family back home, and the sun that connects you.

—--------------------

Having children strangely settled you. You had five children in total within years of each other. Your fifth child was your last. After you had lost too much blood during the birth of your next boy, Coriolanus put off plans to have a sixth. It scared him, seeing you so pale, laying half dead in a bed like his mother. The goal of children was to bring you closer, not to use you up.

They gave your life purpose and little room to think about anything else but their needs. As they grew, you got more freedom to explore the city. Always under an army of guards. Coriolanus wanted them to have a full life, even if it meant granting you access to be far from him.

His children were not to miss out on anything the Capitol had to offer. Their names were on the top of the list for any attractions, child star concerts, and plays. The world was at their fingertips, and you got to experience Capitol life through them.

He went when he could but his work was demanding. In his absence, a team of Peacekeepers escorted you and your kids around the Capitol.

Despite his many faults, Coriolanus was a doting father. His children were first, sometimes before you. Where once his hold was tight around you all night, now you wake to find that one of your children had escaped their bed and taken your place.

You always worried about his temper. He hasn’t hit you in years. You figure it was partly because you gave him little reason to, and partly because if you weren’t physically holding a child in your arms, you had one in your belly.

But as your children grew would they be in the same danger as you if they acted out?

They all had the signature blonde hair of a Snow, but only the firstborn had Coriolanus’s blue eyes. Your other two boys and girls had your eyes. Something to tell you that they weren’t all Coriolanus.

Date night normally consisted of an official event. They were far and few between as Coriolanus preferred you to be home with the babies. He disliked nannies but conceded to their usefulness.

Tonight was a charity event to raise money for a new public swimming pool. Vapid and silly. At this stage, only Crassus and Aurona were born to be left crying as you tried to leave for the event.

They were not used to being parted from you, and you were not used to being parted from them.

“It’s okay,” you hush, “Mummy will be back soon, and she will check on you.”

Aurora was too young to know what your words meant. Her only cue that something was wrong was Crassus as he screamed.

“No, Mummy, no!” His face was bright red from tears. You worried that he was short on breath from his screaming.

He knew when you dressed up, you were leaving. He was four but a smart little thing. As soon as the stylist crew arrived, his meltdown began.

You held him as they did your hair and make-up, trying to soothe him. Coriolanus was still at work. All he needed to do was change his suit when he arrived home.

He arrived home to chaos he could not settle.

He stood behind you, watching as your son tried to tug off your elbow-length glove.

“It’s alright, it’s okay. Mum will be back,” you promise.

Aurora throws her head back, throwing her body off balance in your hold.

The two nannies try to gain the kids' attention by holding out new toys, and calling out to them.

“Once you leave they will settle,” one of the nannies promised.

With teary eyes, you kiss both of your crying children, Coriolanus does the same, and Aurora is handed over.

Crassus’s little hands claw onto your dress, he has to be picked up and yanked away by his nanny.

You try not to let your tears fall as you walk to the car. It would ruin your make-up, and once you started to cry, you weren’t sure you would be able to stop.

“They will be fine,” Coriolanus promises on the way to the event.

“Why do I have to go tonight?” It was a silly thing that would survive without you.

“Because you’re my wife. That’s why.”

Despite many years in the Capitol, events like this reminded you that you don’t belong.

People would only talk to you in an attempt to gain an audience with Coriolanus.

You would remain civil but not overly friendly.

They all thought you were shy and timid as you were rarely seen, and always by Coriolanus’s side.

Your relationship with Coriolanus had changed over the years but his overprotectiveness never dissolved.

His hand was always on you in some form. Where he went, you went. Who he talked to, you talked to. You were only an extension of him in public. At least at home, you were your own person to your kids.

Tonight it seemed to all children. Only one person spoke to you apart from Coriolanus.

It was a little girl, who passed you a flower in thanks. The public pool didn’t seem so silly in your eyes anymore. You bent down to talk to her, thanking her for the flower. You asked her about school and her siblings. You told her about your own children who were too young to attend a party like her.

You were disappointed when her nanny came to collect her. She scolds the child for running away and bothering the President.

Tucking the flower behind your ear, you blow the girl a kiss as she is carted off.

The rest of the night was dull as you acted as Coriolanus’s shadow.

Coriolanus had just finished a speech on stage, you were walking back down the hallway to the party with him. You passed a few people running the events. They tried to talk to him, but he seemed in a rush.

He turns off the direction of the party, and tugs you down an empty hallway.

You ask him what he is doing as he checks the doors until he finds one that is opened and ushers you inside. It was a supply closest. Small and smelling slightly damp.

He pushes you up against the wall, knocking over a broom and a bucket.

“You’re such a good mother. Such a good little wife. I don’t tell you that enough,” he says.

“Okay,” you respond, pushing back on his shoulders.

“I love you so much.” He kisses you so hard, that your head is knocked painfully back into the cement wall.

It reminded you of the harsh and needy kisses he used to give you as a Commander.

You feel his hands slide up your dress and grip the flesh of your butt.

“Coriolanus, not here,” you beg.

His lips go to your throat in slow, sexual kisses.

“I want another baby,” he requests.

“Not here. Someone could find us.”

“Not if you are quiet.”

“Coryo,” You try. A bit too loud for this liking. He clamps a hand over your mouth, and shushes you with a hard look that tells you he was serious.

“It would not look good if they found the President and First Lady fucking in a closet.”

He kneels on the floor in front of you, going under your dress and up your legs, bringing down your underwear.

You feel him put his mouth on you, and you try to relax. It took you months to fall pregnant the last two times. This time wasn’t anything special.

His fingers dig into the back of your thighs, keeping you close as he works.

Soon a lapping sound is heard, and Coriolanus leaves your cunt with a kiss.

You try one more time to dissuade him. Telling him to wait until home. But he unbuckles his belt and hoists you up around his waist.

Your arms circle his shoulders as he pins you to the wall.

You can feel how hard he is against your heat. He bucks up against your wetness in desperation before he lines himself up properly.

You engulf him in your wetness as he thrusts his hips up into you.

With no way to hold yourself up, you feel yourself sink and then be thrusted up into.

“Are you going to give me a baby?” He grunts.

He is fast and rough as he slams up into you. His words were heard but your mind was far from them.

“Yeah?” He teases. His lips go to your neck again, trapping you head against the wall.

He seemed to continuously hit the spot that you liked, no matter how you moved your hips.

The pressure means you come too quickly. Coriolanus was nowhere close so would continue.

You can’t help to groan as he fucks you through your orgasm.

He reminds you to be quiet once more, and you bite his shoulder to stop the sounds you couldn’t stop coming.

He knew you had come from the way you clenched around him.

Taking the back of your neck, he leans you into his shoulder and wraps an arm around your waist.

He delivers you to the floor, releasing you gently into the tight confines of the cluttered room.

“Think you can manage another one?” He asks.

You shake your head ‘No’, your words failed you as he continued his brutal pace.

“I think you could,” he states.

He uses two fingers to circle your pearl as he drives into you.

The door had no lock. Anyone could open it and see you.

You were being too loud. You knew you were. But he forced the sounds from you. Your whole body tingled under his touch, your legs shook with pleasure.

He was not being entirely quiet himself. He grunted and shutters above you feeling his own end coming.

You feel him twitch in your preceding his exploding into you.

He beats you but doesn’t stop swirling his fingers, determined to have you finish again.

You come too loudly causing Coriolanus to cover your mouth with an open palm and look to the door, expecting detection.

His hand is pulled and with a kiss, Coriolanus pulls back on his ankles with a stupid grin.

He uses your panties to clean up the excess cum from you before placing the underwear back on you.

If you had any energy, you would have taken them back off but all you could do was lie there, watching him transform back into a respectable gentleman.

“We have to get back out there before they send Peacekeepers looking for us.”

He finishes tucking his shirt back into his pants before reaching down to help you to your feet.

You’re a little wobbly at first but Coriolanus keeps a firm grip to keep you upright.

You spend the rest of the fundraiser with damp panties and shaky legs which causes you to bump into Coriolanus as he stands next to you.

The stupid grin never leaves his face, even in the car ride home.

Your children are asleep when you arrive home.

You leave them with a kiss, before going back to your room and rushing to beat Coriolanus to bed while he is occupied going through the messages left for him.

He joins you in the shower but it’s quick and with the intention of going to bed.

He talks about the night. Recalling things he enjoyed and disliked.

He asks you what you think but you shrug. All Capitol events were the same to you.

You finish your shower while Coriolanus washes his hair. Giving you time to dress and get into bed before him.

You roll to your side, hoping that the supply closet tryst fulfilled him enough.

You feel him as he moves in the bed to come over to your side, his arm wraps around your shoulder and his head rests against yours.

“We should take the kids to the zoo tomorrow. I’ll have it cleared out.”

“Okay,” you reply, knowing that there wasn’t any other option.

The zoo was large, and there were too many animals to see before nap time.

Crassus got whiny and tired from all the walking and climbing on things. He demanded to be carried. Instead of using his words, he would scream when he got sick of looking at the same animal.

Normally you would have returned home to put him down for a nap, but Coriolanus enjoyed having his son rest on his shoulder. Crassus was a mommy’s boy and very rarely wanted to be held by anyone else.

It was not your first time at the zoo. You had taken Crassus while you were six months pregnant with Aurora. It still amazed you, however. You could spend hours just looking and learning about the animals, but Crassus was lucky to push a five hour awake period.

It was a blessing to visit the penguins where the sound of the gentle flowing water, and cool air sent him to sleep on Coriolanus' shoulder.

You pushed the pram that Aurora was asleep in as you and Coriolanus searched for a comfortable resting place.

Finding a canopy, you sit with your family in the shade. Coriolanus had successfully transferred Crassus from his shoulder to the bench with his head resting on his father's thigh.

Coriolanus’s other leg went out to gently rock the pram with his expensive shoe.

You lay back resting your eyes yourself. Crassus had woken you up from a nightmare. With him in your bed, you got very little sleep as he tossed and spread out.

Coriolanus disturbs your peace by reaching out to place a hand on your stomach as if there was something already inside.

“What do you think it will be?” he asks.

“We don’t know there is anything in there.”

Coriolanus had wanted you to take a test this morning but it was chaos trying to get the children ready for the day.

“I don’t care what it is myself. I was thinking Marcellus for a boy, and Lillian for a girl”.

You cry at the thought of being pregnant again. It was a horrible experience. It was uncomfortable, tiring, and you suffered great nausea all throughout the nine months. That's all before the recovery period while you run around after two other children.

“Hey,” his voice is soft and reassuring. He stops rocking the pram to reach his hand to yours.

The hand that wasn’t captured by Coriolanus went to your mouth to quieten your blathering. You were always cautious about what the children saw.

“If it’s too much I’ll let you get a nanny to help during the day” he offers.

You rip your hand out from under him in anger, “I don’t want a nanny.”

You didn’t trust Capitol people to be around your children. Only when you were forced to where you parted from them. They were too young. They needed their mother.

“You’re tired,” he pandered. His hand wraps around your shoulder to pull you down to his lap. You rest your head on his thigh like your son, and find your eyes shut by themselves.

You feel his fingers itch your head until you are asleep. Coriolanus waits until your breath evens before returning to rock the pram with his hand. With his arm rested over his oldest child, and his hand lulling his baby girl to sleep, Coriolanus felt a swell of pride.

His family slept under his protection and lead. Pamen had entered into a new golden age. All paths led him here.

You woke to the sound of Aurona crying which woke and upset Crassus.

On instinct, you shoot up from Coriolanus to retrieve your baby girl. She needed to be fed again, but Crassus was now rejecting Coriolanus’s hold, wanting to be picked up by you.

You oblige him when his face starts to turn red from crying. You feel their tears on either side of your collarbones. Their screams rang in your ear.

Coriolanus stretches his dead legs, slowly easing himself up to place a hand on Crassus' back.

“Let's get ice cream,” he bribes.

Crasuss turns his head to look at his father and nods.

With a bright smile, Coriolanus claps his hands together before opening them wide, “Come to daddy?” He asks.

You never let him get ice cream at the zoo. It was too close to nap time. So with the promise Crassus eagerly goes into his father's arms.

At the ice cream shop you could feed Aurona but it took far longer than normal with the anxiety that you were pregnant with your third. Something told you that you were.

It was a boy. A gorgeous baby boy. Doll was your nickname for him, but Coriolanus officially names him Adrianus. He cried very little, and at six weeks old he slept through the night. He latched easily, and from 3 to 4 in the afternoon, he would laugh insatiably at everything. He was a dream child. You were very happy with him, despite his initial undesired conception.

Life settled for a little bit as Coriolanus worked to quell a quiet rebellion brewing in the Districts.

For a year Coriolanus was kept busy. His mind off expanding his family.

For the moment he was happy with the three wonderful kids you had given him. Something you could share. Three young kids, five and under, left you exhausted by the end of the day, yet when the day was over and the kids were asleep, Coriolanus demanded your attention.

Coriolanus was not immune to jealousy even from his own kids. You had learnt to give him enough attention during the day when he was around but it only starved him off until night time. He rarely talked about work. Only upcoming events that concern you. He was more interested in you recounting every single thing the kids did.

After having the kids hang off you all day, your least favorite thing to do was have Coriolanus all over you. But when it was his time, he followed you everywhere you went. Insisting that you sat on the couch with him for an hour. He didn’t feel like it was much, but you felt as if it was the last bit of energy zapped out of you.

You normally got a break when Coriolanus returned home from work. He started early so normally he was home in the late afternoon. While you had lots of staff to help you with chores and cooking, you preferred to do it yourself. It gave you a routine that you could go auto-pilot on.

From five to six every day you were in your kitchen while Coriolanus watched the children. Capitol food took some getting used to. Half of the meat you had never even seen before. Coriolanus organized cooking lessons to help you as a Mother’s Day gift.

Dinner was often followed by free play if they weren’t too messy, allowing you time to feed Adrianus. It was important that he had your full attention as you fed as he was so quiet that you might miss a cue of his discomfort.

Crassus sat coloring at the kitchen table while you were in the kitchen trying to feed your youngest boy, Adrianus, who had just turned one

Coriolanus sat next to his son watching as your daughter Aurora showed off her expensive ball gown that her father had brought her simply because she wanted it. ‘No’ was not in Coriolanus’s vocabulary when it came to his children.

He held out accessories in his palm for her as she explained what they were and where they went.

Despite ruling a country with an iron fist, at home, it was you who disciplined the children. He let them run wild, while you tried to raise them to be respectable, and moral children. Your work mostly paid off. They were good children.

Aurora having free reign over her father and older brother, who both bent over backwards to please her, was spoiled. Her tantrums were something you were yet to stop, but she was sweet when not disappointed which was more often than not.

She only had to cry and Coriolanus would pick her up, giving her what she wanted. It annoyed you to no end. If your marriage was equal, you would push more for him to discipline the kids, but Coriolanus only ever gave you the illusion of partnership.

“Mummy, how did you meet Daddy?” Crassus asks out of nowhere as he draws.

The small spoon in your hand drops to the floor as memories that you had buried spring up. The stalking, the harassment, the loss of freedom. You remember the late nights as your mother cried out from pain from the flogging that he ordered.

“Mummy used to own a cake shop, and Daddy would go by every morning before University to buy one.” Coriolanus answered for you. He reaches out and brushes Crassus' hair lovingly.

“Dad, you can’t have cake for breakfast!” Aurora exclaimed.

“Oh, but I did! Your mother would make them special for me.”

You close your eyes remembering the words, ‘Can you make me some more of those oat bars.’ A demand, not a gesture on your behalf. You remember the hard wall behind you as he pressed you there. Just the thought of it brought your heart back into your throat as if it was happening all over again.

“She doesn’t let me have cake for breakfast!” Aurora complained. Tears sprang to her eyes causing Crassus to push a lollypop you had given him for eating his dinner across the table, trying to fight off his sister's tears.

Coriolanus picks her up from the floor and places her on his knee so she can cry into his arms.

“Darling, these are special cakes. Ones you give to someone you want to marry.”

You remember the cakes you used to make Edmund. Edmund, you hadn’t thought about him in years, yet the scar on your heart never healed.

“Not growing little girls.” Still, your daughter cried, which displeased Coriolanus.

He rises from the table with Aurora in his arms and heads into the fridge.

“Let's see if Mum baked any for you”.

Your youngest son begins to cry from hunger which snaps you out of your spiraling. With your daughter receiving a cupcake and your son resuming feeding, the room is calm once more. But your hand shook as your mind flooded with memories of Commander Snow.

Moments later, Crassus presented you with a picture of two stick figures surrounded by out-of-proportion cupcakes. You stared at it with the weight of your baby resting on your hip.

Just like that Coriolanus had rewritten history. Commander Snow was a distant dream. District 12 a vague thought. Lucy Gray no longer haunted the woods. No longer made Coriolanus Snow the victor of the 10th Hunger Games. The war scar had faded. He had fixed history’s mistakes.

He had taken his rightful place as President of Pamen. Only you were left to remember him as Commander Snow.

The end!

Thank you all for reading, and coming along for the journey. Especially to those who commented and motivated me to write. This story would not have been complete without you.

A HUGE thank you to @hotline-to-hell for editing the work, and restructuring the mess.

And a HUGE thank you to @thaleleah and (who i assume is the same) anon who took the time out to encourage me with their long, and hilarious feedback.

Hope to see you all in my other works!

taglist:

@sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw

@mrsjobarnes

@greekyoghurtwithberries

@namelesslosers

@urfavnoirette

@aleemendoza2425-blog

@hiatuswhore

@jacesvelaryons

@swimmjacket

@brooks-lin

@dawnissunnysideup

@astarborntowrite

@someonefromwutheringheights

@purriteen

@homopheli

@devils-blackrose

@poppyflower-22

@bruher

@dawnissunnysideup

@winter-bearv

@tempt-ress

@serinatly100986

@becauseseaotters

@aleemendoza2425-blog

@inloveallthetime

@hufflepuffxsworld

@chennyetomlinson

@slumnit

@saharadesertaj

@missbeeentertainment

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark!coriolanus snow #tom blyth #commander snow #dead dove do not eat

428 notes · View notes

wearebarca · 24 days ago

Text

11. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character pt. 11

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8* - Part 9* - Part 10

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed somewhere too long. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself at critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

Word count: 5,6k

Warnings: 18+ Smut

A/N: This is the beginning of the end mes amis/es

Running long distances puts the mind and body through a multitude of states. It usually starts with exaltation from the feeling of being surrounded by people moving together. This feeling was usually followed by a sort of calmness that washes over ones self. Alone in your thoughts, only one thing remained, the finish line.

The first few miles were crucial, they separated the ones with a time goal from the rest. By the fifth kilometer there were very few people around the photographer, which was a good sign.

She was satisfied with her pace when she reached the first drink station at the seventh kilometer. With her eyes on the prize and the world around her muffled by her earphones, she almost missed them. They were all wearing caps and sunglasses to not be recognized, but the amount of decibels emanating from the little group alone pulled the woman from her focus. Panos, Irene, Patri and Pina were standing on the side of the road cheering. Rosalie almost lost it when she read the sign the youngest was carrying. “Pain is just French for bread.”

She gave them all high fives, grabbed a cup of water and kept her pace. Seven kilometers later, she was met with another little group. This time, it was Frido, Ingrid, Aitana and Mapi who were just as loud. Mapi even ran a few meters with her while Ingrid took a few pictures. There was a group at every drink stop. Arsenal and Barcelona players mixing together, for today they were not only footballers and rivals, they were here to support their friend.

There’s this thing which every runner fears during a race. It’s almost inevitable. It’s this threshold where it feels like your body is giving up. Where your energy runs so low that you think your legs will give out under you if you take another step forward. It’s that point in the race where you wonder if you should just stop, give up, where you wonder if this is all worth it. It’s the breaking point. Most runners know this moment as “hitting the wall”

This moment lies at a different moment for each person, and is often always at the same stage in each race. Experience runners know exactly at which kilometer they will face their wall, and Rosalie could feel hers arriving at the thirty fourth. That’s where breathing became more of an issue, when each step felt like she had lead in her feet. Her arms felt heavy and her head was pounding. Her steps faltered and the pain made the photographer slow down considerably. But still she ran, she was in complete autopilot, unable to focus on anything else but the pain she could feel coursing through her body. It couldn’t end here, not when she was only eight km away from the end. But her body was so heavy, she wasn’t sure if it could carry her to the finish line.

Alexia had chosen the last drink stop. She had a feeling. The kind that she could not explain but told her that this would be where she was needed. She had driven there and parked on the side of the street. Upon arriving at the drink station, she saw that Sara, along with Lucy and Keira had already made themself comfortable. They were surprised to see the Spanish woman arrive alone, thinking she would be with the rest of the team at an earlier stop. They greeted her with a hug still and made some space in their little stop for the captain.

“So what made you choose this stop to cheer?” Keira asked, knowing damn well that the brunette wouldn’t have told Alexia that this would most likely be her worst moment of this race.

“I do not know Keira,” She said perplexed, “ Is this not a good spot?” She asked. The woman's expression had sprinkled doubt in her mind. It almost felt like she shouldn’t be here.

“Lucia?” She said towards the English woman, seeing as the younger woman had turned towards her, not knowing if she should say anything to her captain.

Lucy took a big breath. “This usually is the point in a race where Rosalie breaks.” She said with a slightly worried expression. “No one besides us and her trainers knows about this.” She said her eyes went back to the street for a second before coming back to the blonde. “She doesn’t like to be seen like this, so we’re usually the only ones allowed at this stop when she runs this many kilos.”

Alexia understood this. She hated when people witnessed her weakness. She understood why the brunette preferred to only have her family here when she was at her lowest, but she also felt deep down that she was right to be here.

The first racers zoomed past the station, running at a pace that looked impossible to keep. They were professionals and it showed. While the footballers spoke, Sara stayed silent, her eyes fixed on the street, her phone out with the chrono app opened. She had tracked the race with the help of the other Barcelona players who had texted her at exactly what time Rosalie had reached each hydration stop. She knew that the photographer was not far behind this wave. Three hours and forty five minutes was the goal time, and at seven kilometers from the end and three hours and seven minutes passed, Rosalie should be at this station in less than five minutes.

So when Sara first saw the outline of Rosalie’s silhouette, she was surprised. She had been faster than what they had both thought. Sara was aware of Rosalie’s wall. They had talked about it extensively, and seeing her this early only accentuated her worries. She stood up to try and catch a better look at the woman and realized two things. First, the brunette wasn’t running in a straight line, she was slightly zigzagging in the street, clearly unstable on her feet. And second, her head was hanging low. Her sudden movement startled the footballers who instantly rose to their feet and to see.

Lucy had a worried yet knowing look upon seeing her friend running towards them. Keira took a step towards the road, but was met with Lucy’s arm keeping her from taking a step.

“But she’s…”One look from the woman was enough to shut her up. Meanwhile Alexia stood frozen in place, torn between running towards her and staying here. In the end, Sara was the only one who met the French-Canadian in the street. She simply ran next to her, muttering encouraging words and telling her how fast she had run this race and how close she was to the end. But Rosalie registered none of it. She didn’t need to. All that was important to her was knowing that she was with people she loved right now and that was what made her keep moving.

She saw Lucy’s proud expression, Keira’s quiet excitement, but the thing that hit her the most, was Alexia. Alexia who had chosen this specific stop without knowing, who’s gaze was filled with pride and something that looked a lot like reverence was fixed on her. Those bright hazel eyes that shone in the sunlight. She was smiling, and clapping with the rest of the small crowd, but Rosalie’s whole perspective seemed to narrow down to her.

Something being thrusted in her hands pulled the brunette from her trance like state and reminded her of her current predicament. Upon looking down, she realized that she had been given some glucide gummies and a granola bar. She shoved the gummies in her mouth and gave back the bar to Sara along with a look that meant, “It’s ok, I’ll be ok.”

The pain was still very much present, but so was the determination to finish this race. When she passed in front of the English woman, she winked at them and smiled, which pulled a laugh from them both. Alexia had her hand out, waiting for the photographer to grab it, which she did and let herself be pulled in a quick embrace.

“You are amazing.” She heard the words being whispered in her ear before letting go of her hand and running towards the finish line with a newly lit fire.

Catching the sight of the red inflatable archway was definitely in the top ten most euphoric moments of Rosalie’s life. She had pushed farther than she ever had and this was the tangible proof of her unrelenting efforts. The last 300 meters had the street flanked by gates with people twice as loud as they were at the beginning. Even if the runners were at their very last flicker of strength, the energy of the crowd and the sheer euphoria was enough to carry them to the line.

The closest she got, the wider her smile was stretching. Gone was the looming pressure in her abdomen that had been her companion for the last ten kilometers, gone was the heaviness in her legs that made her drag her feet. This was it, and her whole family was here to witness it. Beth was the first she spotted, most likely because she was the loudest one of the bunch, and around her, the rest of the Arsenal girls and Barcelona team were also cheering loudly. The moment her feet crossed the finish line, her head snapped to the group, on her face, the brightest smile they had seen her make in a long time. Collecting her medal was only an afterthought in her mind, the most important thing was to run to the gate and launch herself in the arms of this group of footballers who she considered her family. Only one person was allowed to cross over the gate with her. Usually, it was either Lucy or Leah who did, but this time, Rosalie caught herself wishing the blonde captain would. But nothing was official between the two, hell, they haven't even talked about anything remotely related to that subject. She was also aware of the presence of cameras all around, and the fact that the footballers had clearly been recognized by the looks that were sent their way.

So she was not hurt when a volunteer ushered the player to cross the barrier only for the captain to decline and let Lucy pass. She would get her moment with the photographer later, and she would make sure Rosalie knew just how proud she was. As soon as the English player had passed the barrier, she grabbed the photographer in a bone crushing hug and lifted her off the ground. A multitude of photographers had converged towards them and captured the euphoric moments between sisters.

Lucy did not put her down, but instead, started to walk towards the big screen a few meters from there. It displayed the arrival time of the runners and in which place they had finished the race. It had not even occurred to her that she should go see her time. Rosalie could feel in her bones that this had been a very good run but never had she thought that she could be high on the positions. So she began her search for her name at the bottom of the screen, and the more her eyes travelled up, the more incredulous she was.

Twenty thousand runners in total. Twenty thousand people and she had placed fifth. Second, fastest woman, fifth place at her second marathon. She was frozen in place, with Lucy’s arms still around her and the crowds screaming around her. She turned around again to meet this captivating hazel gaze. The smile that stretched Rosalie’s features filled the captain’s heart with so much pride as she extended her arms, waiting for the brunette to crash into her.

“I’m all sweaty and disgusting,” She whispered in the crook of her neck.

“I don’t care.” Alexia responded, holding her fiercely, not caring anymore about the gate between them nor all the eyes fixed on them.

From there the afternoon flew by in a blur for the photographer, who got to collect her medal and met up with the rest of her group under the restaurant / bar tent. It was easy to forget her body’s exhaustion when the atmosphere around her was so electric and festive. She got the chance to take pictures with all her friends and even some with the Barcelona players who had come to support her. She knew the media team would have a field day with those and for once, she would not mind the spotlight.

No one had picked up their phones other than for pictures, so no one was aware of the shockwave some of those pictures were creating in the football world. This time was not meant for worries and public image, but for celebration. Rosalie was in the middle of a conversion with some of the runners she had met when a hand grabbed hers and gently guided her out of the tent. She was now in a calm, secluded spot outside, once again, in the arms of the woman who had quickly become such an important part in her life.

“How does it feel to be one of the best?” Alexia asked playfully.

“You already know, I don’t need to describe it to you.” The brunette said. Alexia smiled at that, her hand moving on its own accord and tucking a stray strand of hair behind Rosalie’s ear.

“I know you’re probably exhausted, but I was wondering if you would come over to my place tonight.” She said, bending down so her lips were leveled with the brunette's ear. “I want to show you just how proud I am of you.” She whispered in a low husky voice that made Rosalie’s breath hitch. Alexia’s lips brushed against the shell of her ear and Rosalie’s eyes closed, trying to concentrate on staying upright. Too caught up in the moment, none of them heard the click of a camera, nor the rapid movement of someone exiting the premises.

After dinner, it was agreed that the Arsenal girls would head back to their hotel and they would all make plans together in the afternoon to let Rosalie relax. As the group started to gather their stuff, Rosalie headed to the spot where she had left her bags and was followed by Alexia and Lucy. ALexia picked up most of the burnette's bags and Lucy sent a look her way, quickly understanding that the marathonian would not ride back with her. She gave one last hug to the girl, telling her again how proud she was and that she would call her in the morning to plan something with her and the rest of the arsenal girls. She then headed back to the table, but not without teasing the duo one last time.

Stepping into the space, The first thing Rosalie noticed was the hurried sound of little steps coming their way. It only took a second for the small dog to make its appearance in the corridor. Nala beelined for the photographer who, not without wincing, bent down to collect the fluffy beast.

“Wow I see how it is.” Alexia chuckled as she took her shoes off and bent down to unlace Rosalie’s trainers. Rosalie sat down on the small bench and let the footballer slide her shoes off. She took Rosalie’s free hand and guided her deeper into her home.

The long corridor was framed by a multitude of jerseys all from different teams and with different names. Rosalie recognized most of them, some being legends and others she had heard of.

“These are all from jersey swaps.” Alexia said, noticing the brunette’s interest. “All from games that matter a lot to me.” She said, her gaze distant as it stopped on a particular England jersey. It was Lucy’s, from the 2022 Euro final. Suddenly, something changed in those hazel irises. “I know you are biased, Rosalia, but this is our time.” She said with determination.

Rosalie could only admire the strength and determination Alexia was showing, but she also was dreading this tournament for this exact reason. Both of the teams were likely the favorites and the chances of facing each other in the finals were high.

Alexia seemed to come out of her trance and guided the brunette deeper into her space. The corridor led to a very spacious open kitchen concept. The apartment was on two stories, with a high ceiling and a mezzanine that likely led to the master bedroom and bathroom. The walls were white and decorated with minimalist artwork. The space was dimly lit which brought a cosy feeling to this big open space. It was all very Alexia. Very simple, almost bare, but homely nonetheless.

“There’s not much to look at, I know.” The blonde said. “I just don’t like to feel cluttered.

“Non non it’s very nice, I like it.” Rosalie said with a smile. Alexia answered with her own as she made her way up the stairs. She motioned to the photographer and she followed, not without struggling to climb the stairs with her exhausted legs. Before she had reached the top, she heard the sound of a bath being drawn. When she arrived in the master bathroom, Alexia had lit up a myriad of candles and was sitting on the side of the bath to test the water temperature. “You don’t have to Ale.”

Alexia stood up and walked the few feet separating her from the brunette. “I know, but I want to, hermosa.” Alexia left a gentle kiss on Rosalie’s forehead and left the bathroom, allowing the brunette the space to undress and relax. Rosalie lost track of how long she stayed there, but by the time she pulled herself out of the tub, the water was lukewarm and her skin had pruned. She wrapped her towel around her and walked out of the bathroom. She peered over the railing to see if the taller woman was downstairs but there was no sign of her. She walked down the corridor to what she assumed was Alexia’S bedroom, where she could hear faint music playing

She stopped at the door, taking in the room, and the woman inside. Alexia had changed from her jeans and hoodie, to comfy looking linen shorts, and what appeared to be Rosalie’s college T-shirt. She smiled at the thought of Alexia stealing the piece of clothing and imagined her going around in her apartment with it on while the photographer was away in London.

She then took in the rest of the room. The same decoration style translated from the rest of the apartment to Alexia’s bedroom, but the space seemed more personal with a few pictures hung on the walls. Some were with familiar faces, teammates from barça or some she recognized from the national team, and others that featured women who shared a striking resemblance to the captain. One in particular caught the photographer’s attention as she stepped in the room and stepped in front of the frame.

They were at the beach. Alexia was wearing the same bikini she had on the day they all went together. She was clinging to an older woman and kissing her cheek while the other one, a younger brunette, was kissing the other cheek. Joy seemed to seep out of this photograph and Rosalie could not help but smile at it.

“ This is my sister and my mother.” Alexia said as she made her way towards the brunette and wrapped her arms around Rosalie’s waist.

“ You guys look close.” Rosalie said. The words felt bittersweet in her mouth as a fleeting thought of her own relationship with her mother crossed her mind. “You are lucky.” She finally said with a small smile playing on her lips.

“ Oh I do not know about that.” Alexia chuckled. “Alba can be a pain in the ass. Tan entrometida.”

“Aren’t all siblings?” Rosalie said laughing. Alexia paused for a second, impressed by the fact that Rosalie caught what she had said.

“Yes, I’ve been working on my Spanish.” She said with a cheeky smile as she turned in Alexia’s arms, facing her. “So Capitana, mind telling me what this setup is for?.” Rosalie said, motioning to the bed behind them.

Alexia took the brunette’s hand and guided her to the bed, she lightly pushed her down,but with her level of exhaustion, it didn’t take much for the photographer to tumble down on the bed. Only then did she realize a towel had been laid down on the sheets.

“ Mais qu’est-ce…” Before she could finish her sentence, Alexia left her side to pick up a bottle that Rosalie recognized as massage oil. “ Oh, tu es parfaite.”

Alexia smiled, having understood partly what the French-Canadian had said. “ You relax now, bonita.” She said, popping the cap opened.

Alexia’s hands felt divine as they worked through the muscle of her legs. She worked with precision, applying pressure where she felt knots and easing the tension in the muscles. Every swipe of her hand threatened to pull a moan from the photographer.

“Alexia this is..” Rosalie could not even finish her sentence because a particular press at the muscle of her thigh forced a groan from her lips. “ Where did you learn this.”

“ I have had my fair share of physio appointments to have learned a thing or two.” When Alexia was done, the photographer was half asleep on the bed, body like jelly and in a state of relaxation she wasn’t sure she had ever experienced. “Rosalia,” Alexia whispered, “We have to wash away the oil, come.”

Rosalie could only hum at the blonde, who laughed and picked up the smaller woman and carried her to the bathroom once again. They showered together, scrubbing the oil away, but not without getting carried away in the process. When they finally slipped back under the covers, it only took a minute for the photographer to be whisked away in a deep slumber. Alexia pulled the brunette in her embrace and settled behind her, soon following her in the realm of dreams.

If you’d ask Rosalie about her favorite types of morning, she would tell you something along the lines of early breakfast, a good run, a shower and a late brunch alone or with good company. But that was before this morning. Before she knew that it was possible to be woken up by the crescendo of her release rapidly approaching. She woke up gasping, her body jolting, but powerful hands were holding her hips down on the sheets, trapping Rosalie under Alexia’s relentless mouth.

One of her hands grabbed her pillow as the other tangled itself in blonde locks. She could feel Alexia’s lips curl into a smile. “Bon dia Rosalia.” She all but purred, the vibration sending a shock through her whole body.

Rosalie didn’t get the chance to answer the captain because her sentence was cut short by a guttural moan escaping her lips as she felt two fingers enter her.

Alexia met no resistance as she lazily pumped her fingers, matching the rhythm of her tongue on her clit. She knew that Rosalie was close by the way she was squeezing her fingers. She switched the movement of her tongue to wrapping her lips around her clit and gently sucking. She curled her fingers and found that specific place which pushed Rosalie over the edge, the sensation growing so strong, she lost control of her body. Her mind going blank, she finally surrendered completely to her release.

Alexia held her through it, her fingers slowing down but not stopping, wanting to drag out every ounce of Rosalie’s orgasm. Only when the fingers in her hair started to pull lightly did she finally pulled her fingers out and kiss her up the runner’s body. She was simply mesmerizing. Her chest was heaving still, her brunette hair was sprawled on the pillow in a hollow and a light smile was playing on her lips.

“How are you feeling, little champion?” Alexia whispered before kissing her cheek lightly.

“Wonderful.” She answered, feeling her body grow heavy once more and her eyes closing on their own accord.

“You should get more sleep, you deserve it.” She said, tucking the brunette in the covers.

Alexia grabbed her phone and a large t-shirt and left the bedroom, but not before checking back to the photographer, who had already drifted back to sleep.

The Arsenal girls knew that there was no way Rosalie would be able to get up at the same time as them today. They knew how demanding the day before was and were glad to know the brunette was finally relaxing. The were all gathered aroud a little table in a coffee shop near Steph’s hotel, along with Lucy and Keira,when all hell broke loose.

Beth was the first to see the pictures. It was hard not to, they were circulating online at record speed. She first passed the phone to Leah, who was the one closest to her. It was the England captain's expression that caught Lucy’s attention. She saw her features go from shock to anger in the space of a few seconds. Then, it was the look in her eyes, like she was ready to end someone’s life right there and then. One look and the phone was passed to the older brunette.

The first one was of the club. It had been taken from the bar where the person had a clear view of the dancefloor. You could see the team dancing and having fun, but in the far corner, There was Alexia, with a very recognizable expression, dragging a clueless Rosalie to the confines of the club bathroom. Anyone could guess that this was not a normal gals chat waiting to happen. The second one was of them exiting the club. Clearly disheveled and in a hurry. Force was to admit that these two could have been taken by any paparazzi or fan present that night.

But the others. Those were worrying. One was taken from a high point of view and panned down to the pitch where Alexia was standing very close to Rosalie, her hand on her hips and smiling down at the brunette. The other was of them, behind the tent the day before. The person had caught them kissing, arms wrapped around each other. The next one was the same settings, probably a few seconds after and showed them both smiling like idiots. Lucy took a second to really look at it. They looked happy and it warmed her heart to see it but soon enough, the reason she had these pictures ignited her anger again.

The last one was the one that worried her the most. It was of Rosalie and Alexia walking up to an apartment complex. One Lucy knew well. This person had knowingly or not, divulged Alexia's address on social media.

Lucy stood up abruptly and pulled out her own phone for her pocket. She prayed that the two women were still wrapped in their little bubble, too caught up in each other to check their phones.

Her first call was to Marcello. She wanted to know who had posted these. Turns out, the new head of social media was already on the case. Then her finger hovered on her captain’s contact name. She knew that when it came to her private life, Alexia became fiercely protective. So she decided that it would be better if Alexia was coaxed into the news rather than discovered it like the last time.

She waited for the woman to pick up, and at the moment she was about to give up, the line opened and all she could hear were rapid spanish cursing and loud clattering. “Alexia?”

“Aye, mierda, un momento Lucia.” she heard far away as more clattering followed by a string of very colourful words.

“Ok ok, que quieres?” The poor blonde sounded overwhelmed.

“What in the world are you doing Ale?”

“Burning breakfast.” Her answer followed by the sound of plates clattering.

“Ok ok is Rosie still knocked out?” An awkward silence followed her question and Lucy cringed internally. “Don’t answer that. Have you been on your socials today?”

“No, why?” The silence that followed sent a chill in Alexia’s veins. She put the English woman on speaker and opened instagram. Lucy simply waited, listening to the blonde’s breathing in the speaker. She allowed her the time to process all this, and only spoke when she heard the sound of a chair being pulled and a long exhale on the other side of the line.

“Ale?”

“Who.” That single word was laced with so much anger, it surprised the older woman.

“We don’t know yet. Marcello is looking into it.” Another silence.

“Did you see the comments?” Alexia asked, her voice cold and deadly. Lucy paused. She had not thought about that before and a ball dropped in her stomach. She had an idea of what exactly she would find if she was to scroll down the comment section and the thought alone drove her mad.

“Lucy there’s people outside.” Alexia said. Looking out her window and seeing a bunch of people with cameras on her street.

“Ok you need to call management now Alexia. And please, this is going to be hell for her too…” Lucy started, but was cut off by the blonde.

“Si, I know, do not worry.” She said, hanging up after.

It took another hour for the Brunette to wake up. She threw on an oversized Barcelona t-shirt she found laying on the dresser and made her way down the stairs. By then, Alexia had managed to get a hold of the disastrous breakfast situation and was sitting at the kitchen island. There was soft music playing in the background and everything was set up for a relaxing breakfast, and yet the atmosphere felt extremely tense. Rosalie could see the tension in Alexia’s posture and the way her shoulders rose then fell in rhythm with each shaky breath.

It was like being splashed with cold water. Rosalie froze only a few feet from the captain, who seemed to sense her presence and pivoted on her stool. Her wild gaze seemed to soften at the sight of the photographer, but hardened once more at the sound of her phone buzzing on the counter.

« What’s… what’s going on Alexia? » Rosalie asked, stuttering a little.

“Where is your phone?” Alexia asked quickly.

“I don’t know. It’s probably still in my bag, I didn’t take it out when we arrived.” Rosalie answered, confused about the question.

“Why? Did someone try to reach me? Is everything ok?” She asked, panic starting to rise and making her words stumble out rapidly.

Alexia stood up. She could see that her state was affecting the photographer. She made her way to the smaller woman and took her hands in hers. They had started shaking and shiny green orbs were piercing through her, waiting for an explanation.

“Someone put some pictures of us online.” She said softly, as if her gentle voice could erase the message it had to convey. “They stalked us and caught us together. They even posted pictures of the front of my apartment.”

Only now did Rosalie register the noise coming from the opened window in the living room. She made a move to go see but Alexia didn’t let go of her hands and pulled her closer to her. “No no no Rosalia please listen to me.”

Rosalie’s breathing was quickening. In Such a short time, her privacy had been invaded twice. Plastering on the wall her life and shattering once again the fruits of her healing. She had already come so close to losing this connection with the captain and now once again, she was being thrusted into the spotlight against her will.

She could not stand to be this close to the woman she was sure would hate her again. She tried to pry away from her grip and put some distance between the two but strong hands kept her still.

“Rosalia look at me” The words were muffled by the ringing in her ears, which seemed to intensify with every second. Her eyes were flying around the room without being able to focus on anything. She could feel herself slip into a state of panic, the feeling overpowering her.

“ I’m… I’m sorry so… Merde… Je suis désolé Alexia please I’m…” words were stumbling out and she simply had no control over her own reaction. She was rapidly spiraling when warm hands connected with her cheeks.

“Rosalie, breathe with me please.” Alexia took a long inhale and held it in for a second before letting go. Rosalie tried but it felt like something was constricting her chest and keeping her from breathing in. Alexia brought her hand up to her chest and laid her own on the photographer’s. “Here, can you feel me? I can feel you Rosalia, I am here with you. I am not going anywhere.”

She focused on the rise and fall of the footballer’s chest. A steady beat that grounded her and slowly brought her back in the present. Alexia stayed still allowing the photographer the time she needed. Time she herself needed to wrap her head around their situation.

Rosalie’s forehead had, at some point, landed on Alexia’s shoulder. All her senses were flooded by the blonde’s presence and her words were slowly registering in her mind. They didn’t know how long they stayed in this position but when Rosalie finally moved, her limbs felt stiff and sore. Her gaze travelled up and reached Alexia’s own. “ Do you mean that?”

“Si, preciosa, I am not going anywhere, it’ll be ok.”

They spend the day on the sofa. Rosalie watched bad reality shows and documentaries while Alexia was, as always, studying their opponent’s previous games before their next champion league meet. Everytime one of their phones would light up, they tensed and waited a second before reaching for the device. Alexia and Lucy had kept in touch during the day but nothing new had come from their little investigation. Just like the first time, it was agreed that a meeting with the concerned parties and management would be held the next day and this time, Alexia was determined to have better results than before.

#alexia putellas #barcelona femeni #woso community #alexia putellas x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #barca femeni #futfem #alexia x reader #lucy bronze #alexia putellas x y/n

167 notes · View notes

campgender · 2 months ago

Text

Quim Issue #5 (1994)

[image description: a cropped image of a magazine in black and white. at the top is the question “how can you be a lesbian and sleep with boys?” echoed by the words “call yourself a lesbian.” below this are answers with different text formatting for different responses. a black and white cartoon in the bottom right corner shows two people in skirts saying “what on earth was that about?” “haven’t a clue.”

the responses read:

I hardly ever actually slept with them. Of course you can and many of us do. Having sex with men is a diversion I allow myself every 6-8 years. They become more exciting by being forbidden.

I am a lesbian because of the people I choose to live my life with. Occasionally fucking a man doesn’t change that.

I don’t, I call myself bisexual.

My lesbianism means that I am only physically, mentally and emotionally attracted to women. Though I have had good one-off sex with men in the past, that’s as far as it goes. As far as sexual relationships go they don’t feature.

The few occasions I have done it I have had no problem dealing with it at all. I know I’m a dyke – and one of the benefits of being a dyke is having the choice and occasion to do what the hell you like. If I want to shag a bloke then I will (if nothing else to remind me why I never really wanted to sleep with them in the first place!)

If I was interested enough to commit myself to getting good sex with men, there’d come a point when I’d call myself bi-sexual. Anything I engage and put myself into is something to be proud of, so I’d be proud to call myself bi-sexual. But I don’t feel proud of what I have ever felt or done with men in bed, so the label doesn’t apply.

Easy. I am a lesbian and I sleep with guys every once in a while. Which I know many dykes do but they’re just too scared to admit thinking that women will see them in a different light. Most dykes get the 7 year itch even when they don’t admit it to themselves.

I can’t see a way of sleeping with a man/men on a regular basis and calling yourself a lesbian.

Easy.

I can fall in love with women in a matter of minutes. I have never fallen for a man in the same way.

end image description.]

#quim #quim magazine #zines #queer history #dyke4fag #fag4dyke #image described #mac’s bookshelf

173 notes · View notes

hellfire--cult · 1 year ago

Text

Edit of Eddie: Sofiiel

Stripper!Eddie x Shy!Fem!Reader

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 (end)

WC: 8.6k

⚠️ +18 MDNI, Stripper!Eddie, shyness towards men, nervousness, self-esteem issues, fluff of some sort, self doubt, flirting, Stripper!Billy and Stripper!Steve making an appearance

Plot: You thought you were cursed with your shyness, but after one embarrassing night, you decide it's time to change, and you believe someone might be able to help with that.

Summary: You finally buy something you feel pretty in, and Eddie invites you to his house to finally meet his friends... Who are also his Co-Workers.

A/N: Thank you so much for the amazing support in this story! Next chapter is when things get spicier! So follow me and click the notifications for my postings since I will close the taglist for now!

You can always support me by hitting the reblog button with tags, and I always enjoy reading your comments!

PART 3

“No.” Robin deadpans at you as you hold a white t-shirt up to her. You frowned as you turned it to look at it yourself.

“What’s wrong with it? The collar is lower!” You try to defend but in all honesty you knew you were just going for the safe options. It’s been an hour since you arrived at the mall and even if you wanted to come here alone Robin insisted on helping after you told her what Eddie told you.

She was surprised, incredibly surprised, because she never thought it had to do with your self-esteem, and that drove you to have no experience in a lot of things. You didn’t know how to do your own make-up, how to dress yourself, how to talk without feeling the need to overdo it, or even how to flirt. This was all based on confidence you never had, confidence you never built in yourself, confidence you never really felt like having because you thought the opportunities didn’t happen for you.

But now, Robin was doing her best to not murder you. You have been showing her bland t-shirts, soft cardigans, some jeans, and nothing that would be different from what you usually wear. She wanted you to do the picking by yourself, so that you could find your own style, but her patience was growing thinner and thinner each second that ticked.

“What’s wrong with it?! It’s the same shit you always wear!” Robin exclaimed at you and you winced at her tone, putting the white shirt back on the rack. In all honesty, you didn't feel confident to get hold of the things that caught your attention. You had liked a black one piece that looked like a corset with spaghetti straps. You also saw a nice tight purple dress with puffy sleeves that fell from your shoulders.

“No need to be so dramatic about it Robin…” Your friend simply rolled her eyes and looked over the rack of clothes. She heard your phone’s ringtone and immediately saw how you were getting it out of your coat. Her eyes almost widened when you didn’t even flinch, seeing the caller ID, and even knowing it was a video call.

Your stomach was in knots when answering but you got better with video calling with Eddie after the first two times he called. The first time, you didn’t put on your camera, but he didn’t mind. He showed you his apartment and then his makeup collection, explaining to you some basic stuff to get started with it. You took down notes of the names of each thing, concealer, foundation, contour, liners, mascara, blush, lipstick, lip gloss, setting spray, and powder. That was the basic thing.

The second call you only showed your eyes and forehead. He laughed at you of course, which only made you want to hang up on the call but he stopped you and told you that it was an improvement. In that call though, you almost felt the earth swallowing as Steve and Billy made an appearance, both shirtless, waving at you. You immediately muted yourself and took off the camera as your whole body grew a cold sweat.

That meant that Eddie had talked about you to them.

Your hand was shaking as it positioned itself on top of the answering button, ready to slide it, but Robin snatched your phone away, your eyes widening like plates as she swiped the phone to answer, and you didn’t even have the chance to take the device back.

“Well that was qui– Hey, who are you?” Robin put the phone to her face, seeing Eddie on the screen, and she almost barked out a laugh when she remembered the show she witnessed of him two weeks ago. She held in her laughter, taking a deep breath in to begin talking.

“Hi, I’m Robin–”

“Ah, you’re Robin, hi there!” Eddie smiled into the camera and Robin blinked slightly at how charismatic this man was, not at all what she thought a stripper would be like, and she realized that you talked to him about her.

“Robin, what the shit!” You yelled on her side and she put the phone to show your face and you instantly turned red at seeing Eddie, face to face, even on camera, but you kept your gaze on the device, even if the butterflies in your belly swarmed all around.

“Well, hello there Bunny. I see you’re at the mall.” He said with a smile and you nodded about to start talking, but Robin put the phone to her face after shooting a glare towards your way.

“Eddie, I’ve been here for a fucking hour, I want you to see the shit she’s been picking.” You stared at her in complete offense after yelling a ‘Hey!’ but she completely ignored you, grabbing onto the white bland shirt you picked earlier and showing it to Eddie with the phone. “This, but in black, in brown, in beige, in gray… And not one single dress or skirt!”

“That really won’t do… We’ll pick for her, Robin, show me the rack.” He winked at the camera and Robin only rolled her eyes at him. He knew he could throw those kinds of jokes with her and not with you, because that would only spur you into nervousness.

“You guys know I’m still here, right?” You said, crossing your arms over your chest and Robin pointed the camera at you so she could keep eye scanning the various shirts that were hanging there. Eddie frowned into the camera and shook his head.

“You cannot possibly tell me you feel sexy in a bland white t-shirt.” You bit the inside of your cheek, looking down at the floor like a kid that just got called out and Eddie had to contain the smile that was coming into his face.

“What do you know…” You mumbled, and even in the ambience of the mall, it was audible enough for your microphone to pick it up. Eddie chuckled and rubbed his cheek.

“A lot. Robin, got anything?” At the call of her name, Robin pointed the camera to her face and shook her head.

“The store we’re in is practically for ladies over 50. She never once entered stores that have clothing of our generation.” She shot a glare at you and you stuck her tongue out at her which she scoffed at. “Don’t stick your tongue out at me!”

“Okay, hand me over.” Robin gave you the phone and you sighed, putting your face in the screen, scowling at Eddie. You should feel offended, but you knew deep inside you that they were right, and you were just going for comfort instead of something you actually would like.

“What?” You snapped at him, making his eyes widen, his eyebrows disappearing under his fringe.

“No need to get snappy with me. Darling, did you really not see anything you liked?” He squinted into the camera and you adjusted yourself, glancing at the floor for a second but he noticed. He noticed the body language, and he knew that you had indeed seen something you liked and didn’t even dare to try it on, or even go into the store.

“I… Um…” Eddie sighed and that made you look up into the screen again. He looked fresh out of the shower, his hair up in a wet bun with some strands falling to the sides of his face. The black shirt covering him, and you could see the tattoos that were on his neck coming out.

“Okay, I want you to take us where you’ve seen that something you liked. I want you to at least try it on, whatever it is. I don’t care if it’s a care bears shirt, I just want you to go pick something you like.” He was patient with you, and Robin took notice of that. She was amazed by how carefree he was, and how careful he was being with his words so that you wouldn’t get scared easily. He wasn’t pressuring you, and he wasn’t commanding you really.

“Okay…” You mumbled in a low tone and Robin’s eyes widened. He hit the spot and she didn’t even notice if you glanced at something you liked or not. You walked out of the store, Robin following right behind and Eddie called Robin out to get the phone. She grabbed it and looked into the camera.

“Is it true you fought a raccoon and grabbed its tail and simply hammer threw it the fuck out of the garden?” He said with a chuckle and Robin immediately started laughing, almost snorting as she remembered that night.

Her, Nancy and you were chilling at Nancy’s pool, drinking a few cocktails made at home, when out of nowhere a raccoon appeared and for some reason wanted Nancy’s ankle bracelet. Poor Nancy ran all over her garden until a very drunk Robin threw herself on the raccoon, grabbed it by the tail, spun around and flung it over to the neighbor’s garden.

It seems you told Eddie that story.

“Fuck yeah I did, it might have had rabies, and it’s one of my number one phobias! I couldn’t risk it!” Eddie started cracking up as you entered the colorful store, making Robin look around. She noticed you weren’t talking, probably trying to swallow your nerves with each step you took, and that was very much what was happening.

Every step felt like electricity under your feet as you headed straight to the rack of dresses. Robin was not talking as well as Eddie, waiting for you to grab something. You took a deep breath in, maybe two. Your hand slowly reached out and grabbed hold of the lilac dress you saw before on the mannequin. Robin’s eyes widened and looked down at Eddie and gave him a small nod but didn’t show him what you picked.

Eddie was biting his thumb, the curiosity killing him but he was sure you were debating whether to try it on or not. After a minute he saw Robin’s eyes widen as she moved a bit, the lights of the store over her head. He straightened up on the chair and then Robin whispered down to him.

“She went into the changing room, Eddie. I’ve never seen her in a dress before. What if I fall in love with my best friend? I can’t handle this.” It was a joke of course, she could never fall in love with you, not when she had her eyes on Vickie for the past two years, but it would be the first time she would see you in a dress. Last time it was a prom dress and it wasn’t even tight or anything, it was long sleeved, with a nice fall but nowhere tight to your body shape.

“Okay, just, keep calm, and do not show distaste if you don’t like it. She liked it, that’s the important thing.” Robin nodded at his words as she waited patiently for you.

“This might take a while though…” She knew that you might be looking at yourself for a long while inside, so she looked down at Eddie to start striking some conversation, maybe a private one that you should not hear. “Why are you helping her so much?”

“Well… Honestly, I don’t know… I guess at first I was intrigued, wondering if there was such a thing as being shy towards men, but she is actually pretty cool. She likes The Lord of The Rings, so that’s a plus.” He said with a smile and Robin could only laugh at that, shaking her head. Of course the stripper was a total nerd like yourself.

“Yeah… You know… This only happens with attractive men only.”

“Are you, a lesbian, hitting on me?”

“Shut the fuck up.” She shook her head at him as he threw his head back with laughter but then she cleared her throat. “I don’t know if she told you, but… She had dates before, but they weren’t with men she was attracted to.” Eddie’s eyes widened slightly at that and Robin shook her head. “It’s more like, attractive guys in general. Not like a personal attraction to a guy.”

Eddie hummed at that, completely in thought. So it wasn’t that you were personally attracted to him. This happened to you with every man that you found hot basically, and Eddie knew that he was a handsome man. As well as Billy and Steve are. There’s no need to be humble about that, because if he weren’t, he wouldn’t have gotten the job he has now.

“She’s getting better though.” He clarifies and Robin smiles at him, and nods.

“Yeah, she is, slowly but–” She cut herself off as she looked over the phone and her mouth hung open.

You had walked out of the changing room, after five minutes of staring at yourself in the mirror, your eyes full of tears as you looked at yourself. Tears that weren’t of sadness, of disappointment, of disgust… You liked yourself in the mirror. For the first time in your life, you had tried on a casual dress, and you didn’t dislike what you saw.

The lilac dress hugged your body with a few sinches at the front, the semi-princess sleeves falling over your shoulders, hugging your biceps, and the dress stopped right in the middle of your thighs. The top of your breasts popped out slightly from the bunched fabric of the top, the small golden chain hanging from your neck and then your white sneakers completed the outfit just right.

“Holy fucking shit…” Robin only exclaimed and you just stood there, breathing heavy as you waited for her response. She just tapped on the screen, two times, to turn the camera around so the back camera would face you.

Eddie’s air got knocked out of his lungs.

He was still looking at you, eyes staring at the screen as if he was seeing a long lost puzzle solved in front of his eyes and he didn’t want to miss one single second of it. His words were in his throat, wanting to say so much but for some reason his mouth was not cooperating, frozen, slightly opened in a surprised motion. His eyes roamed your body, top to bottom, and jesus fuck, you weren’t doing justice to yourself, hiding behind all those baggy clothes and bland colors. The purple color matched perfectly against your skin tone.

“I shouldn’t buy it, right? You both aren’t saying anything at all…” You voiced out your thoughts, which in the past you would have kept inside your inner monologue and do whatever you thought was best for you. For your mental stability that is. Robin immediately got up from the chair she was waiting on and pointed at you.

“Y-You… We’re getting every single color of that dress.” Robin says, stuttering at how different you look from your normal self. It was way more than just looking good, there’s like a light that it’s not quite bright around you yet, but it’s dim, wanting to become stronger each second you stand there in your new clothes.

“R-Really?” You bit your lip nervously and Robin looked down on the screen and saw that Eddie was still stunned on his chair, looking at his screen. She smirked and looked up at you again.

“Look, you left a stripper speechless, I think that usually goes the other way around.” At that, Eddie snapped out, a blush creeping on his cheeks when he realized he was caught staring without hiding it at all, without being discreet. He cleared his throat and motioned for Robin to turn him so that you could see him.

Robin flipped the camera so the front one would start filming now, before handing the phone to you. Your stomach was in nervous knots, anxious to know what a man like him would think. Expectant to see if this wasn’t too much for you, wanting to know if this actually suited a woman like you at all and they weren’t just saying it because they are your friends.

Is that what Eddie was? A friend? You would really like to think so. You were hoping he would feel the same way about that, because that would mean he would be your first ever male friend. Real friend. You looked at Eddie on the screen, and his eyes were lit up, a big smile on his face and your chest thumped at that sight.

“You look absolutely gorgeous, Sweetheart… How do you feel in it?” He asks and you clear your throat to hide your nervousness, looking down at the floor.

“I uh… I feel comfortable in it… I-I like it.” Robin was almost jumping in excitement at your words and Eddie wanted to fist pump the air at the news.

“Good, good… You’re going to buy it then?” He asks, and that’s the next step of it all. Not letting self doubt eat you up at the last second. Be confident in the decision you chose from the very beginning, not letting the eye of strangers change it, nor their thoughts. What matters is the reflection you saw when you put on the dress, all alone, inside the dressing room.

You gave a nod and handed the phone back to Robin to hide back into the changing room. Robin waited till you couldn’t see her anymore and squealed into the camera in excitement, Eddie chuckling at the reaction but feeling victorious as well. This was like watching a bird hatch. Slowly, but surely, the beak breaks the shell, piece by piece, and that’s what it felt when they both watched you.

“I cannot believe you actually managed this…” Robin says with surprise in her tone and Eddie simply shook his head.

“I didn’t really do anything, she was the one that approached me for help. I am just guiding her through it.” He explains to Robin and she gives him a soft nod, and then Eddie’s smile slowly fell, nerves wrecking his body. “Hey um… I might need your help for the next thing…”

After a few minutes, you came out of the changing room, and slowly walked towards the cashier, trying to let your hands hand the dress towards the nice lady, and then giving her your card. You were feeling a rush of adrenaline coming up on you, as if you were using the money you made for something other than necessities. You were treating yourself.

“Have a good day!” The lady said, giving you the bag, and you blushed, with a nod, walking out with Robin who was still chatting up with Eddie.

“Eddie says Make-Up is next.” You were getting kinda angry that they were talkative with one another, but happy at the same time that they enjoyed the conversation they were having. You started heading towards Sephora, and then you heard Eddie’s voice calling out to you, Robin handing you the phone.

He was smiling at you, and you felt those nerves in your tummy but not as strongly as before. Your eyes traveled to his tattooed neck until he called you out again.

“Stop ogling and listen to me.” He says with a chuckle, making you blush a deep red, wanting to drive your face away from the screen but before you could do so, he kept talking. “I want to invite you to my apartment tomorrow night. We can have a few drinks and have some dinner, and you can meet Steve and Billy, properly this time.” He finished with a nervous smile.

Eddie was actually nervous for this step, but it was needed. The only male you had interacted with until now, was him. He wanted to see how you would interact with other guys, hence, Steve and Billy, both knowing about your situation. They agreed to help you, and Eddie was grateful for that.

Your stomach dropped to the floor at that. The other two. The other two strippers. Eddie’s friends. But it was just that right? He wanted to introduce you to his friends, like Robin was introduced today, but that meant you would be alone with three hot guys in a room, and that is something that was making you tremble with nerves already, Eddie noticing the slight shake on the camera.

“Shit, important detail. I invited Robin too. You won’t be here alone with just the three of us… Just thought it would be cool since we got the day off tomorrow, and they want to meet you actually.” He tries to make your shoulders untense, and try to calm you down, and it seems it works, because you frowned and looked at Robin who was next to you looking at Eddie.

“Yep, I’m for it, I mean, I have so many questions about their profession.” She encourages with a smile and you look at the screen again, gulping the nerves down to your belly. You felt yourself sweat at the outcome of all of this, but either way, you nodded at Eddie. He smiled widely, showing his bright teeth, and fist pumping the air.

“Fuck yeah, I make very mean nachos. I’ll make them tomorrow! You’ll love them!” He says with a chuckle and you giggle out, finally a sigh of relief leaving your lips.

“I like spicy.” Eddie held in the smirk at your words, closing his eyes to not make a dirty joke out of it.

Too early for that.

“Robin, I should go change, this is not okay, I didn’t have time to practice my contour, it must look horrible, you just don’t want to say it, but it’s okay! I can take it! Just please, turn so I can fix it–”

“SHUT UP! I’M DRIVING FOR FUCK SAKE!” Robin Buckley lost her patience with you, once again. You flinched at the loud words, making you sink in the passenger’s seat. You were wearing the dress you bought, plus a denim jacket you got in another store and your white reeboks at your feet.

“I don’t know why you got to wear jeans and I have to wear a dress. I look… like I am trying too hard…” You sighed out, the six pack of beer in your lap, clinking every now and then at the movement of the car. Robin wanted to kill you, to put it simply, but she loved you too much to do so.

“I dress like a lesbian dyke. I don’t really have dresses, or skirts, you know that!” You giggled at that and you had to admit she had a point there. “You look good, casual, and so pretty. I helped you with your makeup and we did a fantastic job.” You nodded at that and tried to calm your own nerves as Robin turned the street and finally parked. Your breathing rate increased as you looked up at the building, trying to take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

“Robin, I–”

“I’ll be there with you, the moment you feel like throwing up or leaving, we’re out of there. But they seem really nice, and FRIENDLY.” She emphasized the word and you sighed, that actually worked to untense your situation.

“Okay… okay… I can do this, I can make male friends.” You say, opening the passenger’s door open and Robin chuckling in her seat as she opened her door.

“That’s my girl.” She says excitedly, locking the car behind her as you both head towards the doorbells panel. You notice that there aren’t many buttons, despite the building being quite large. Robin takes the initiative and you grip onto the six pack even tighter, wanting to run away from here, but you wouldn’t.

You weren’t running again. Robin was going to be there, Eddie you’ve already seen, it’s fine, everything will be fine.

Robin rang the doorbell and without even replying, the door opened. Robin smiled at you, opening the door for you to get by and you looked all around the lobby as you both walked to the elevator.

Each floor the elevator passed, the more you felt coldness at your feet, and you felt as if your makeup was completely melting on your face, but the reflection on the elevator’s walls told you differently. Everything seemed okay, which calmed your nerves a bit, and you took a deep breath in before jumping at the ding sound of finally arriving at the designated floor.

Robin helped you out of the metal cell and you moved with heavy steps towards apartment B. You noticed that there were only two apartments per floor, so this meant that the floor was big. Robin bit her cheek and looked at you. She wasn’t going to admit to you that she was nervous too, that would completely wreck you, but she was. She was meeting new people, which she had no trouble with, but she was still keeping her guard up just in case.

“You ready?”

“No, but what can I do about that?” You reply, getting a chuckle out of Robin.

“Good.” And like that, she rang the doorbell. Your eyesight was immediately dropped to the floor, six pack in one hand, grabbing it by the handle, biting the inside of your cheek to just bite into something, other than your fingers. You heard some talking behind the door, making your belly almost ache at how nervous you were feeling at the moment, but anxious to get this night over with.

You heard some heavy steps, and your body was trying to ignite the Flight mode, wanting to dash out of there as soon as possible, but you kept your eyes at your reeboks. It’s Eddie, it’s going to be okay.

The door finally opened and in your vision came some old reeboks, not the same model as yours, and that made your nerves go away a bit, noticing the similarity of clothes. You slowly looked up, noticing the black ripped jeans first, the black belt, then the tight black simple t-shirt on, and your sight stopped at his arms. Covered in tattoos, and there, sure enough was the bat tattoo he mentioned.

“Welcome to my coven ladies.” That made your eyes shoot up, completely widened with a blush and Eddie was smiling at you, biting at his tongue. “Come in, come in, don’t want those beers to get cold!” He cheerfully moves aside and Robin grabs the six pack out of your hands and walks past Eddie and into his house.

You just stood there, hands behind your back as the biting in the inside of your cheek worsened. What if Steve and Billy do not like you? What if they aren’t as patient as Eddie is? Should you return when it’s just Eddie alone here? Maybe you can video call them, meeting them like that, less personal–

“Sweetheart.”

You were cut off from your thoughts, your eyes locking with Eddie’s again as he smiled down at you. He put his hand out tentatively and this would be the second time you would ever touch him. Graze skin on skin with his, with a man, with an attractive man. You stared at it for a few seconds, heart on your throat and a shaky hand slowly rising up to meet his. His grin widened and he made you do a twirl, causing you to yelp slightly.

“Look at you! That looks great on you, princess.” He wanted to say so many things. He wanted to say you looked beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, incredibly sexy, but he didn’t want you to think he was flirting with you, which in a deep part of him, he would be more than delighted to do so, but he was fine in just being your friend.

“T-Thank you.” You squeaked out and you wanted to tell him he looked good too, but that would already be flirting, right? But you do tell Robin she looks good, and she’s just your friend, and she never receives the compliments as flirting. Same with Nancy and the other girls.

But with Eddie, it was still a big challenge for you to do so. Much more when it was about his looks.

“Alright, let’s go inside! I want to show you around!” He said with a smile, moving aside for you to enter. You slowly walked inside, feeling each step heavy on the floor and your eyes widened at how spacious the whole place was. The ambience reminded you of a New York artist loft. You saw the large couch in the middle with the TV at the front and a coffee table in between, a library filled with different books, a guitar in a corner, some weights in another, large windows, and a snail staircase in one side of the room.

Now you realize why there weren’t so many buttons in the building. The apartments consisted of two floors. You were amazed by it, but you guessed that three people paying for one single place has its perks and you can always aim for something bigger. The kitchen can be seen from where you’re standing, a large island counter separating it from the living room. Robin was there, putting the beers inside the fridge and taking out three cold ones.

“Mi casa es su casa.” Eddie says, closing the door behind him, Robin speaking after him.

“Where’s the stripper pole?” You choked at that, sending a glare towards Robin who just shrugged at you, but Eddie laughed at Robin’s question, shaking his head.

“I don’t know if you remember, but there were no poles at the club we work at.” He says as if it were a matter of fact and Robin just nodded, heading towards the both of you with the beers in her hands. Eddie quickly grabbed one, snapping open the can and then you grabbed the second one. Maybe this will help with your nerves, hopefully.

Eddie immediately guided you both towards the library and you were fascinated by the amount of literature that was there, mostly fantasy and horror, which were your favorite types of books, apart from the normal romantic shenanigans.

“So, this is basically all yours?” You added and Eddie smirked, nodding.

“Yeah, the other two can’t grab a book even if their lives depended on it.”

“We heard that Munson!” You heard some metal stomping from the stairs, someone coming down, and the hairs behind your neck stood on end at the male voice that sounded in your ears.

Not only that, but following on those steps, there were more, which meant both of the other men were coming down the stairs to greet you. You froze in place, sound around you becoming non-existent and you could swear you heard Robin talking, probably introducing herself. A soft touch grazed your shoulder, making you look up in a jump, and Eddie was shooting you a warm smile.

You were here with Eddie, and Robin. You were here with friends. They were friends.

Eddie was nervous, of course, but you didn’t look pale, which was a good enough sign for him to turn towards Steve and Billy and introduce you to them. You bit your lip and slowly turned your head, feeling the rock in your tongue trying to weigh it down until you finally locked with the first set of eyes. Brown ones.

“Eye locking. Nice! I am Steve.” He said with a smile, putting his hand out for a handshake. He was instructed by Eddie to provoke physical contact. You were like a cat, he explained. You needed to feel comfortable enough to let yourself break loose and the handshake was kind of the sniffing animals did to detect any threats.

You felt your cheeks burn at the praise, licking your lips as your breathing started picking up a pace again, but still you raised your shaking hand up, Eddie’s eyes looking at you, making sure you were okay, and then you held onto Steve’s hand, moving it slightly as a greeting. Steve seemed pleased with that, smiling at you with a nod, and letting go of your hand after a second.

Robin exhaled the air out of her lungs, giving Eddie a thumbs up, hiding it from you and he gave Robin a small nod. Now, it was Billy’s turn. And your eyes widened when he locked his gaze on you. His eyes are just so bright that you cannot handle it, feeling completely watched by him, as if scanned, and you turned your gaze away.

“Calm Sweets, it’s alright. I’m Billy.” You took a deep breath in, gulping down and closing your eyes as you remembered that night. This man looked slightly intimidating, a sexy aura simply spilling from his pores, but when he encouraged that old lady to touch him, you were sure he was trying to make her feel young again, let her feel adventurous, with a kind smile on his face.

So you gazed up again, Eddie’s eyes widening at your action and giving Billy a nod to stick his hand out. You looked at his hand and licked your lips as you raised your trembling hand towards him. His hands were rough, and he was probably the one that used the weights the most. He smiled when you looked up to him again, no salacious look, or a hint of smugness, just a kind welcoming smile.

And you knew you were safe.

He let go of your hand and Eddie finally let the breath out of his lungs that he was holding in. He was afraid he would have to take you to the ER or something, probably fainting here and hitting your head on something, but you proved him wrong. And he was really proud of you, looking at you with a smile to his face as well as Robin coming to your side to put a hand on your shoulder.

“Alright, I already ordered pizza, so I assumed everyone likes Pepperoni.” Steve says as you all moved to the island counter to sit at the stools, you were in between Robin and Eddie, taking a gulp out of your beer.

“What if I’m allergic Dingus?” Robin says to him as he sat next to her and he shot her a quizzical look.

“Did you just call me dingus?” He asked and you couldn’t help the snort that came out of your throat as Billy chuckled, getting two beers out of the fridge.

“Well yeah, you don’t know us, what if we wanted, I don’t know… Anchovy pizza?” She asked and all three boys grimaced at that.

“Who the fuck would like that?” Billy asked and you gulped in embarrassment, Robin shooting you a look. You have to be brave, confident in the things you like, in the things you are passionate about, just like Eddie said. Don’t let anyone diminish the things you most enjoy in life.

“I– I do…” Eddie’s eyes widened, looking down at you, shaking his head.

“You can’t possibly be serious Princess…” Eddie says and you frown at that, looking at him with an offended look on your face, but very protective of your tastes.

“Maybe you tried the wrong kind of Anchovy pizza!” You defend and Eddie lets out a laugh and shakes his head.

“Who would even try that in the first place?!” He retorts and you point at him with your finger, squinting at him.

“So you didn’t try it… Your argument is invalid.” You finish and take a sip out of your can, Robin slowly clapping at you for shutting him up and you bow with your head at her. Eddie’s eyes were boring into your skull and Billy shrugged at him.

“She is right though, Harrington, call the place and order another one, with Anchovies, we gotta try that shit now.” Steve simply rolled his eyes at his friend and Eddie was shaking his head.

“Nope, nope! I am not trying that.” He takes a sip out of his beer as Steve sends a message to the pizza place to order that one other pizza. Robin’s phone buzzes, and she looks down on it, you peeking over your shoulder to see she received a notification from her dating app.

“Is that Carol?” You ask and Robin shook her head, opening the app to reply to a girl she just made a match with. Steve also took a peek on the other side and he almost spat his beer when he saw the profile picture. Everyone looked at him with a shocked expression and he wiped his mouth, pointing at the phone.

“That’s not a girl.” Steve claims and your eyes widened, same as Robin’s as you both looked at Steve. Robin scoffed and put up the profile of the person she made a match with.

“It is a girl, I only have my app set to get girls.” She says and Steve shook his head, pointing at something in the picture.

“It’s literally a filter. You can see the smudge of them trying to wipe off the beard.” Robin was blinking at him as if he were insane and you were chugging down your beer out of pure nerves. You didn’t like the sound of that, anxiety filling up in your chest as you heard those words coming out of Steve’s mouth.

“So, he is a creep?” Robin asks and at that Steve nods, taking a sip out of his beer and makes a shoving motion to her phone.

“Delete that app, they suck.” He says and Robin simply huffs at him, putting her phone down to look at him.

“And how do you expect me to find available hot babes?” At that, Steve rolled his eyes as the rest of you watched the interaction closely. The two of them were talking as if they were long distant friends, immediately engaging in a very intense debate into whether the dating apps work better than engaging conversation in a bar or club, randomly.

“Totally engaging conversation in a bar.” Eddie states as Steve points him out as a thank you.

“Not everyone is as charismatic as you guys are, just mind you! Behind a screen is much safer, at least for me.” Robin states and you just sipped on your beer, not really involving yourself in the conversation because you had done neither. You never interacted in a bar with another man, and you never downloaded any dating app on your phone.

You weren’t going to ever make the first move, and men hardly approached you at public places because your friends snatched you away before they could engage in conversation with you. Not that if you stayed you would have talked to him. You most likely would have just frozen in place.

During this whole ordeal you didn’t notice the pair of blue eyes that were watching you as you quietly drank down your can of beer, already finishing it. Your name was called, and you raised your head up, noticing Billy was calling out to you.

“What’s your opinion on all this?” He asked you and your throat closed up, feet becoming cold as his eyes scanned your reaction. The nerves in your belly became alive once more, feeling their eyes almost burning into your body as they waited for your answer.

“I– I never really… Um…” You gulped trying to find your words and Eddie was glaring at Billy for making you nervous but his friend glared back, shaking his head at him as if telling Eddie to not intervene.

“Sweetheart… Eddie has helped a lot, I know that, but… What is going to happen if a guy you’re talking to suddenly flirts with you? Someone you might be attracted to?” Billy asks you and you look down at your cup, blinking at it. Eddie has taught you the easy part. The friendly part. But in the end, your ultimate goal was to be able to be with someone you were attracted to. Someone that you actually liked not only spiritually but physically too.

And how were you going to do that when you didn’t know how to flirt? Much less, how to react when being flirted at?

“Munson, scooch.” You heard Billy say and Eddie gave you a look, which you didn’t reciprocate because you were still looking down at your can. Eddie knew that this part was going to come sooner or later, but he didn’t intend for Billy to take the initiative. Not today at least. It was supposed to be a way of getting to know the other two and loosen you up with other men other than himself.

Eddie stood up from his stool and exchanged places with Billy. You closed your eyes as you felt the blood in your body slowly leaving you but you were brought back to your senses when Robin pressed a soft hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, I’m here…” She reassures you and you look up to her, gulping heavily as the anxious feeling in your belly moves around, but you fight through it, turning your head to look at Billy who smiled sweetly at you, and that friendly smile made your shoulders relax just a bit.

“Alright… We’re friends now, okay? This is only to help you. Even if what I say is true, there is no hidden intention behind it, but what I want you to know is that, when a person flirts with you, it’s not only you who has to have confidence, it’s the other person as well, so basically you are both on the same boat.” Billy explains to you, and you slowly nod in understanding and then Robin intervenes.

“Yeah, it’s not like I am a flirting machine, you know how nervous I get about that.” You turned to look at her, and yes, you do remember how she explained to you how nervous she got when a girl approached her at a club one time, and she wouldn’t stop ramblings about whales for some reason.

So everyone gets nervous about it, not only you, you are not the only one who gets shy about it, or bashful, and that soothes the knots in your belly just a bit more.

“So, what I wanna try with you, is give you a compliment, and for you to give another one back.” Billy continues and your head snaps at him with widened eyes. This was a big step, a huge one, and your heart is already beating in anticipation as to what he might say. You glanced at Eddie once, and he gave you a reassuring nod, and it was as if you just received a message from him that played in your head.

‘It’s alright.’

Robin’s hand was pressed on your shoulder still, as you looked at Billy and how his demeanor slightly changed. His eyes suddenly gazed at you with another type of spark in them, as his smile turned into a small one, a little bit higher on one side, and his body moved towards you, just slightly as he leaned against the counter.

His eyes were looking into yours, and your mind was yelling at you, screaming, grasping at every cell to make you run away, that this was stupid, that this was impossible for you, that there was no way this would happen in other circumstances.

“You look beautiful tonight, sweetheart.”

Your breath got caught in your throat, feeling it closing in, and how can you believe such thing? How is that man telling you something like that? You’re nothing special really, you’re pretty bland. Pretty normal.

And that’s when you felt yourself snap.

You put on the dress you felt nice in, you put on makeup for the first time in which Robin helped and you liked the outcome of it. You looked down at your lap, your knuckles white in tight fists as you tried to even out your breath, thinking of a response to him, maybe about his attire as well? About his perfume? What?

“Say anything that comes to mind darling. Anything at all.” You heard Eddie’s voice ringing from afar, and you took a deep breath in, settling on one thought only as you looked up to meet Billy’s gaze again, who was now smiling encouragingly at you, leaving behind the smug grin.

“Y-Your eyes are pretty.” Billy’s eyes widened at that, as well as everyone else’s in the room and you felt your whole face heating up as a wave of embarrassment filled your body. You said too much, it was too forward, you came too strong, what if he took it the wrong way, what if they think you are weird? What if–

“Oh, you made Billy blush!” You heard Steve exclaim excitedly and you paid attention to Billy again who was hiding his face under his hand, which he had across, palm on one cheek, fingers on the other, but you could see the pink reaching his eyes as he looked away. Eddie finally laughed out loud, patting Billy in the back.

“She’s a fast learner isn’t she?” Eddie said proudly and you were still stunned, staring at Billy. You made someone like him blush, feel bashful for your flirting, and you never knew you could do that. You always thought that was your position, that the one that should always remain shy and embarrassed was supposed to be you.

Everyone was laughing at Billy while he tried to stop all of them from doing so, that he is trying to help only and it was backfiring him, so you turn to Robin with a smile on your face.

“You have a pretty laugh!” At that Robin shut up, stunned, looking at you.

“I– what–” She was turning red, you could see it on her ears as Steve chuckled behind her, already pointing at them to make fun of her, but you looked at him this time, your bravery becoming bigger and bigger.

“Your hair is great, Stevie.” You added a pet name this time, which made him jump and you could see the thin line on his lips as he looked away while rubbing the back of his head, and then you turned to your final person.

Eddie was wide eyed, looking at you, feeling his chest pressing on him as your eyes scanned him. You on the other hand, you almost lost your power, and you felt a tingling sensation in your fingers, a warmth spreading from your throat towards your face, but there is one compliment, one thought, that you always wanted him to know.

“You’re beautiful, Eddie.”

He just kept looking at you, as the other three people in the room fussed about how you managed to be suddenly bold enough to compliment them out of nowhere, but your eyes stayed focused on Eddie. There wasn’t embarrassment for some reason, and you felt yourself smile when he flexed his jaw, turning towards the fridge to hide the intense blush he felt coming to his face.

He has women all over him, almost every night, touching him, saying things to his ears, scenting him, worshiping him, yet… Yet your small innocent compliment was enough to stir him up in a way he hasn’t felt like in so long. A hurricane whirling in his stomach as he grabbed a beer and put it on the counter. You were laughing now, seeing how Robin was making fun of Steve, while Billy chuckled at how flustered Robin was looking.

Eddie licked his lips, rounding the counter, stepping behind Billy and then finally standing behind you. You weren’t paying attention to his movements but Billy caught on him as Eddie slowly reached down, getting close to your ear, his voice lowering in a whisper. Your stiffened in your seat as you remembered this same position being the one in that night at the strip club. The hot breath on your skin, and the scent of his cologne invading you completely.

“Thank you, angel.”

Robin stopped bickering with Steve to look at your face, widening when she saw you had turned slightly pale. She looked at Eddie as he backed off, ready to scold him but then you softly whispered, low, but you still talked, surprising everyone in the room.

“My pleasure…”

Robin immediately hugged you tightly, snapping you out of your embarrassed trance, wondering what was going on as she rubbed her cheek at the top of your head.

“You didn’t faint! You didn’t freeze! This is a miracle!” You heard Eddie laughing as he returned to his previous position and you looked at him as he raised his beer to you as in a cheer motion. You gulped tightly as your eyes were still locked into his, while Robin was excitedly hugging you.

It was a miracle alright.

The doorbell rang after a few minutes and the next second, you were all digging into the pizzas as the munchies from the alcohol started kicking in. You looked at everyone, grabbing a slice of the anchovy pizza except for Robin.

“I already tried it and it wasn't to my taste.” She says, grimacing at the memory of it. The first one to take a bite was Steve, who immediately spat it out into a napkin.

“What the fuck… Yeah, no, that’s not edible.” You had a slice already so you knew the pizza was delicious, not a quality failure. You pouted and looked at Billy who was still chewing his piece and slowly put it down on his place, swallowing after a few seconds.

“This is definitely something else, darling.” He says, clearly showing his dislike. You looked at Eddie who was just staring disgustedly at the anchovy’s eye on top of his pizza.

“Do I really have to?” He asked and for some reason, you really wanted Eddie to like the pizza, your taste in pizza, but your hopes crashed down when the other two didn’t, so you were pretty sure he was going to dislike it.

“You don’t have to…” You mumbled to him, not wanting to embarrass yourself even more because of your particular taste and Eddie noticed that. He noticed the change in your tone and he immediately took a big bite out of his pizza, closing his eyes as he waited for the taste to hit his tongue.

The four of you looked at him as he chewed with his eyes closed, and then his shoulders untensed, relaxing completely, his eyes opening in a confused look as he looked down at his slice, still chewing as if he were in shock.

“Well?” Robin asks him and Eddie’s stomach grumbles as the new flavor fills his mouth.

“This is fucking excelent. Why the fuck did I never try this shit before?” He says as he takes another bite, and you look at him to search for any hint of him taking pity on you, and just saying that so you wouldn’t feel embarrassed, but he then took two more bites and the slice was gone. He immediately reached for another one and looked at you. “If you don’t take another slice, I’m gonna eat all of this by myself.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, you immediately reached out and grabbed another slice, smiling as you looked at Eddie while you took a bite, and he returned the smile in the same way.

The rest of the group was simply horrified.

You looked at the pizza, and then back at Eddie.

“Where are the Nachos you promised me?” And he stopped chewing, facepalming his forehead.

“I forgot…” You shook your head at that, and giggled at his pink cheeks.

“It’s okay, you can make them next time.” You say out loud, and Robin was completely surprised that you were the one that initiated the invitation to another gathering this time, but she kept her mouth closed as she grabbed onto a pepperoni pizza slice. Eddie almost froze at the words, but smiled at you, taking a bite of his slice.

“My pleasure.”

End of Part 3

TAGLIST IS CLOSED. FOLLOW ME AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS TO RECEIVE THE UPDATES. it just got too long guys.

a/n: Next chapter is when everything simply moves on. Trust me, this will turn spicy... Spicy.

Taglist: @katethetank @mynameismothra @emxxblog @steph-speaks @fantasticmacaroni @aysheashea @sweet-villain @sillypurplemurple @eddiemunsonthoughts @emilyslutface @bookshelf-dust @justheretostalk @eveybitch @blablaclub @vintagehellfire @trixyvixx @steeldaisies @bitchyseawitch @seventhlevelofhell @leelei1980 @kbakery @corroded-hellfire @poofyloofy @nightonblogmountain @gothvamp1973 @hideoutside @mrsjellymunson @maysrain @honey-eyed-munson @sarcastically-defensive17 @narutofan249277 @ms1oftheboys @siriuslysmoking @hereforshmut @mynameismothra @venuslayla23-blog

2K notes · View notes

starryinkart · 1 year ago

Text

[Click for Better Quality!!]

(Likes and Reblogs are Appreciated as they help my posts and blog reach others easily!)

Hey guys!!! This was supposed to be the last post of 2023 buttt I wanted to spend more time on it soooo HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! 🎊

This is based off a dream I had that Doll and Uzi will teamed up to find answers and a possible cure down in the Cabin Fever labs, but ultimately ran into some trouble along the way, particularly with a recently deceased friend (or enemy, depending what side you’re on 👀). They ended up fighting another holo spooky snake crab and end up having to put their differences aside to work together and get past it, using their solver powers. But time is ticking, the solver is slowly taking over the both of them, N is in trouble and they still need to last through the other mind games the solver has set up for them in the process.

At some point before this, we have the scene seen in the teaser trailer for episode 7 and 8, of N and Uzi standing in the cathedral hall, Uzi gets momentarily possessed, hurting Ns hand, but snaps out of it when they both hear a noise behind them. They manage to catch a glimpse of Doll, trying to sneak past them, when Uzi attacks her, a short fight ensuing. Doll is knocked to the floor by a marble pillar, her eyepatch gets knocked off her face. It was then revealed that her other eye that had been covered was indeed yellow, the color of the solver, like Uzi’s. After a short tension filled chat, it was then decided between the three drones that they would work together, if it meant they would find an answer to their looming issues and possible planets demise, when all hell broke loose…Whether they would win or lose, I never got to find out 🥺🥺😭

(It’s just an interesting concept my creative brain came up with while I’m patiently waiting and theorizing for the last two episodes of season 1 like everyone else 🙃 Might draw more of it at some point!)

Hope you enjoy!!💜✨ More art and Chapter 4 of Absolutely coming very soon!!

(Here’s a closer up version in case you wanted to see the fine details 👀👀)

#artists on tumblr #digital art #murder drones #murder drones Uzi #uzi md #doll murder drones #md uzi #md doll #murder drones theory #murder drones fanart #fan art #starryinkartwork

849 notes · View notes

percygranate · 2 years ago

Text

⚠️PSA – ickybatz is back! Predators on AO3⚠️

⚠️TW for Mentions of Child Sexual Abuse, Child Abuse, Minor Sexual Content, Pedophilia, GROOMING, and Pedophile Conversations. PLEASE read and reblog if you can.

IMPORTANT UPDATE: Demobatz is NOT ickybatz, also known as batty-ruski, battyrusk.

I made a mistake by assuming due to the names, and after being in contact with Demobatz, I edited the post. I apologize for this but don't fully regret calling them out, as it helped Demobatz realize they made a mistake and it brought a lot of attention to the issue of predators on AO3 and Tumblr.

In-depth explanation [HERE]!

This 13/16-year-old CHILD is out here asking for pedophilia requests and getting encouraged and groomed by predators.

I accidentally came across it, and I encourage you to report them and everyone interacting with their work. There is a difference between dark romance, dark fics, and straight-up romanticization of children being assaulted.

They write about these children actively partaking and enjoying it, hoping they can please the adult taking advantage of them. These works are clearly written for the type of person that gets off on it.

——— Update ———

Their way of writing to cope with past trauma was groomed and manipulated by predators on AO3.

——— Update ———

——— False Information | Demobatz isn't Ickybatz ———

So much for “Oh, they are a traumatized child and made a mistake.” They now know it's wrong and continue doing it, even worse than before. And people continue to support it.

Their fucking apology was absolute bullshit. And everyone that came to their defense should be ashamed of themselves.

——— False Information | Demobatz isn't Ickybatz ———

↓ Here are AO3 accounts supporting this. ↓

Yes, they put warnings on their work and say “Don’t Like It, Don’t Read It!” But I would like to show you what they are writing, and how they are getting the attention of predators. I am sure you have to agree with me that they and everyone supporting this need to lose any type of platform they own. Demobatz should NOT be in any contact with these men.

⚠️They encourage each others to write this and Demobatz, A 13/16-YEAR-OLD, is actively putting themselves in danger by making “friends” for roleplay, and exchanging social media, with very likely, PEDOPHILES. They are actively getting groomed by people that know what they are doing.⚠️

——————————————————

↓These are their two original works↓

Financial Struggles — The summary says it all. But I feel like I should point out their conversation under their post.

Mother’s Milk — Sexual Assault of a male baby.

——————————————————

↓This is their work in the Stranger Things Fandom↓

Their work “Deceit” which is taking requests and actively posting has, as of May 21st, 16 Chapters.

1 — “Using this as a coping mechanism for my own trauma. Please request, any age is allowed❤️”

2 — Eddie Munson, 25 y/o | Reader, 17 y/o

3 — Uncle Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson | Reader, 6 y/o

4 — Eddie Munson, 20 y/o | Reader, 12 y/o

5 — Steve, 19 y/o & Eddie, 20 y/o | Reader, 14 y/o

6 — Dad Steve | Reader, 8 y/o

7 — Dad Steve & Eddie | Reader, 8 y/o

8 — Big Brother Steve | Reader, 4 y/o

9 — Big Brother Billy Hargrove | Reader, 6 y/o

10 — “Posting this so that you all can give me ideas on what to post next❤️ Anything is allowed/ age can be whatever you want♡♡!”

11 — Billy & Steve | Reader, 3 y/o

12 — Hopper & Joyce | Reader, 4 y/o

13 — !BILLY HARGROVE AND A NEWBORN BABY!

14 — Billy | Reader, 6 y/o & Max, 7 y/o

15 — “It hasn't been a week and I'm almost at 2,000 reads! Thank you all so much♡♡ Feel free to drop suggestions, request or even ideas/blurbs♡♡”

16 — Big Brother Eddie / Reader over the years, starting at 6 y/o

——————————————————

They actively encourage pedophilia and put themselves on a silver platter for predators.

If you are still trying to justify these types of works, please do it off anon and openly so you can be blocked since you are part of the problem.

Do not send threats, bullying, or harassment their way. Block and Report.

If you know one or more of the interacting blogs, call them out.

⚠️UPDATE: 22nd of May⚠️

Dear fellow Bloggers, Demobatz pedophilia fic “Deceit” has been taken down!

Yet their two original works (mentioned above) are still there. I ask you to keep reporting them!

Demobatz is currently using Wit as their social media to exchange ideas for their CSA & incest Erotica, and worse, to roleplay with potential predators.

⚠️Update: May 25th⚠️

AO3 has removed their account or they deleted it themselves. Their Wit profile has been deleted.

Due to this post, my blogs keep getting shadowbanned and reported.

⚠️Update: May 26th⚠️

DEMOBATZ CONTACTED ME AND I CAN CONFIRM THIS APOLOGY TO BE REAL!

In-depth continuation and explanation [HERE]!

⚠️I turned off Reblogs as the original post with false information is still making rounds and therefore people are missing information.⚠️

#ickybatz

1K notes · View notes

tadpolesonalgae · 1 year ago

Text

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 8

Pairing: Azriel x third-oldest-Archeron-sister!Reader

A/N: Writing Nesta post-acosf is so confusing so I apologise if she’s a little ooc!

Word Count: 5,552

-Part 7- -🌌🌠- -Part 9-

It’s been while since you last ate with all of them.

Even so, the atmosphere is familiar. Jovial. Pleasant enough you can allow yourself to slip into spectation, vanishing in your mind’s eyes, becoming an observer without presence. Shadows flicker at the corner of your vision, and you’re brought back down to reality.

The restaurant lights are warm and yellowy, a magic barrier constructed at the room’s border to keep the temperature pleasantly mild, inky darkness swirling just beyond the threshold. Candles flicker, almost in time with his shadows. It’s hard to tell when natural darkness ends and his begins. But he doesn’t really like it when people stare at them, so you avert your eyes. Scratch the backs of your hands beneath the table, softened a little by cream.

By what you can only assume was a stroke of bad luck—or good, depending how you want to feel for the rest of the night—everyone had already settled into the dinner by the time you arrived, leaving a single seat open. Yes, you could’ve pulled over a chair, or requested one to be magically summoned, but that would be drawing attention to the issue, which would undoubtedly make the ineffable off-ness of your relationship with him that much more blatant.

So there he is, a steady presence to your left, situated at one end of the table. Elain to your right. How unfortunate. Or lucky, depending on the angle.

Take a sip of your water, unsticking your tongue from the roof of your mouth. Lean slightly over to your sister. “Have I missed anything?” Cocoa flick to you, warm and soft in the mellow light, a little tired. Half-circles beneath her eyes. “Nothing much. I was planning on visiting Lucien again—hopefully within the week.” She answers mildly, a faint smile in her eyes. “There’s also a possibility of Nesta going over to have a look at the libraries in the Day Court.”

“Woah,” you mumble. “Looking for anything in particular, or simply for recreation?”

Elain shrugs, eyes flicking across the table. “Ask her,” she says simply.

Spine stiffens.

With fae hearing, plus the close proximity, there’s a high chance everyone heard that exchange. Refusing to do so will only draw more attention. You shoot Elain a reproachful look for putting you in this situation but she smiles encouragingly.

You find the elegant shape of your eldest sister a little further down the table—across and two over. Opposite Cassian who is beside Elain. Sharp eyes flit to your own a second after you’ve sought her out—she definitely heard. At least you didn’t vocalise any dismay over the forced interaction.

“Day Court?” You inquire, raising your brows in interest. She nods, lips parting in a smile, “quite the trip, isn’t it.” You laugh—trying to remember where the Day Court is in conjunction with Night. Come up short. “Already read through all the books here?” You reply, trying to keep the conversation fluid. Gaze absently flicks over the various plates and trays of food, picking out the things you’d like to try. A waft of something delicious floats down the table—a covered bowl sits between Rhys and Feyre. Soup, most likely. It has your mouth watering from the scent alone. Would be divine with some buttered bread.

“Nowhere near,” she responds, still smiling. “But there’s a particular author we’re after, and I’d like to see if I can find more of his books in those libraries.” You hum, nodding your head in acknowledgement. “Different from The Runaway?” She blinks, then nods, “you’ve read it already?”

“Yeah. Finished it last week,” you answer, peering at the dishes closer to you, wonder what you can pick. It’s mostly meat. Some roast potatoes, poultry next along covered in an orange-red sauce that smells spicy.

“What did you think?” She asks, carefully ladling gravy to the edge of her own plate. It’s your turn to blink, recalling the story to the forefront of your mind. Exhale heavily, leaning back into the chair. “I don’t know, really,” you admit honestly, “there was a lot in it, I suppose. I’m still digesting it, in a way. Do you know what I mean?” She nods, eyes softening at the edges—you’ve said the right thing. “I think there’s a lot in it; a lot happened to him, and I think it did a good job on highlighting how perspective can be manipulated. I also like how the creature was only alluded to in earlier chapters while the first part of the plot was unfolding so you end up overlooking it?”

She gracefully cuts through a potato, dipping it in the gravy before neatly depositing it in her mouth. Elegant and refined. “Yes, I thought that was an interesting way of telling his story. The complications between Yvette and Hans helped with the initial distraction, I think.” Lips twists into a slight frown. “The section—I think around chapter seventeen? Eighteen…?” You pause, picturing how far through the book it was, then shake your head. “Around there, anyway. The section about those lights in the sky?— I had to put the book down for a bit.” You admit, smiling as you recall the passage.

Nesta nods her head. “I couldn’t believe it, either. I think I actually had to stand up and get myself another cup of tea to calm down when he connected the dots.” A grin parts your lips wider, skin warming at the memory. “Anyway,” you say, redirecting the conversation, “a different author.”

She nods in confirmation, “a different author.”

“Romance?” You ask, remembering her appreciation for the genre.

Something passes through the room, hairs slowly raising at the back of your neck. Eyes slide to Elain, but she’s conversing with Cassian, attention shifted away from you. Gaze flicks back to Nesta who has a tight smile on her lips—it’s still odd to see her smiling so openly and frequently.

“No, actually,” she begins slowly, cutlery lowering to her plate. Her fingers remain pressed tight to the metal. “It’s a spell-book,” she says, silvery-blue eyes gleaming like moonlight despite the warm glow about the private space. Brow furrows a little as you peer at her across the table, “a spell-book?” You ask. “What do you need a spell-book for?” Her spine straightens, attention moving to her meal as she slices into some meat, mouth opening to continue.

“The baby warrior’s been having doubts about his wingspan, I’ll bet,” Amren croons from across the table, snatching your attention. Your brow dips further, eyes now shifting to find Cassian further down the table—the other side of Elain. He seems fine, laughing brightly. “Is there a problem with them?” You ask Nesta, remembering how torn up they’d been after the mess with Hybern and the cauldron.

She shakes her head, lips lifting into a grin as she meets Amren’s steel-coloured eyes. “She’s just jealous,” Nesta returns, “Varian not treating you well?” Sharp eyes flash with challenge. “Maybe they should compare notes. I’m sure your mate could learn a thing or two,” she taunts, effectively ending your conversation with Nesta. A part of you wants to learn more—your natural inclination—but Amren’s whisked her away into conversation, Mor stuck between them.

Attention again flits to Elain, but she’s still contained in conversation with Cassian, leaving only the keen pair of eyes on your left to entertain yourself with. Raise the glass to your lips, forcing down a mouthful of the alcohol, ignoring the light pulsing in the forefront of your head. Skin prickles beneath his attention, fingers shifting over your cutlery as you move to take food to your plate.

It seems rude to interrupt Elain’s conversation—you always go to her first. She speaks to people other than you, and probably enjoys doing so. You should leave her to enjoy the night. Take another drink of the clear liquid, shadows flickering in your peripherals as you set your sights on Nesta. Wait for an opening.

“What do you want the spell-book for?” You ask, feigning ignorance to their conversation. As if the question just appeared on your tongue, falling out before you could stop it. Two sets of sharp eyes cut to you, a single set of caramel flicking to steel warily. “A containment spell,” Nesta answers, slicing up some vegetables on her plate. “To bind.”

Amren’s lip curls into a distinctly predatory grin, almost warning. “Needing to spice things up so early in your relationship?” She croons. “I would have given it at least another few months before you two were in need of a bonding activity.” A fourth pair of eyes joins the discussion though he’s still wrapped in his own exchange. The hazel to your left has probably been observing for some time, too.

Nesta offers the petite female a tight smile, equally warning. Mor claps her hands, hastily breaking up the exchange. “Will you pass that down? Cass, be a dear and— no, next to it— the other side—yes! Thank you!” You watch slightly enviously as she ladles soup into a bowl, taking a slice of fluffy bread and slathering butter over its surface. Trace the soup as it’s returned to its place at the far end of the table, between Rhys and Feyre, one seat down from Nesta and Cassian.

And just like that, dialogue ebbs and flows around, leaving you with no way in. You’re quite glad for the reprieve. These dinners generally leave you in need of a weeks sleep to recover, by which point the next one is already scheduled. Exhausting. You don’t know how they manage it. Attention is still weighing on you as you raise your cutlery, poised to begin slicing into the meat upon your plate.

Elain is still preoccupied—to your steadily growing dismay. Nesta and Amren are locked in a verbal sparring match, while Mor chimes in here and there, occasionally attempting to rope Cassian in, too. Just to stir things up. Shadows flicker in the background.

His attention is becoming difficult to ignore. Clear your throat softly, focusing on cutting through the meat, slicing it into bitesized chunks. “Is something the matter, Azriel?” Shift the cutlery in your hands, easing up the pressure on your knuckles from the effort of cutting. He watches silently, his own plate clean and empty.

“Not at all,” he replies quietly, voice unliltling and void of inflection. Your brow twitches toward the centre, neatly spearing a chunk of flesh. Swallow in preparation. “Nothing?” You question, equally softly, biting down on the dead animal. It comes apart easily on your tongue, softened in a skillet somewhere, bathed in oils and rosemary, sprinkled with salts and spices. Force yourself to chew and swallow. “Nothing,” he repeats back, hazel eyes resting on your jaw, flicking to meet your gaze.

Finish your mouthful, move to the next sliver. Spike it on your fork. Half raise it from the plate then stop, lowering it quietly. “What are you watching?” You ask, eyes flicking down to your plate, skipping away from his. “Many things,” he answers vaguely. Shadows flicker at his back, wreathing his wings, tucking behind them. “I’d rather not be part of those things,” you murmur, finally biting down on the tender flesh. Chew enough so it’s digestible, then swallow. Think about nice things, like the books at the house, golden eyes, and dried flowers. “You’re in public,” he replies, tone still without inflection. “That’s an impossible request.”

Three pieces left, and it’ll be done.

“You can look elsewhere instead of staring a hole in my head,” you murmur. “Maybe,” you add hastily, softening the sharp suggestion. These situations always put you a little on edge. So many people.

He’s quiet for a bit, but his attention doesn’t shift, despite his gaze moving to be further down the table. You manage another chunk of meat, teeth dully masticating as you grind the flesh down, focusing on the herbs and spices in place of the ashen, earthy flavour of the animal carcass.

Azriel’s attention weighs into you, skin prickling, hairs raising at the back of your neck as you try to ignore it. It’s probably being exacerbated by your imagination. Raise the fifth and final piece to your mouth, thinking about rotating planets and cocoa, of whiskey and caramel as your teeth bite and chew absently. He’s still observing; you shift in your chair, swallowing the mouthful. Reach for your glass, gulp down the clear liquid.

Nearly choke, the alcohol burning your throat. Nose scrunches before you can help it, covering your mouth with the napkin while you cough as quietly as possible. Elain pats you on the back making you smile as you overcome the initial shock. “Something go down the wrong way?” She asks, lips curving in a grin she’s clearly attempting to suppress in favour of a more sympathetic expression. Puts those attempts to rest when you laugh quietly, nodding to the liquid. “Too eager,” you whisper, refolding the napkin. Elain covers her own mouth, shoulders shaking with muffled mirth; you shoot her a playful glare.

Mor, sitting opposite Elain; beside Nesta, breaks from her conversation with the two, attention flitting to you, as if she had been lying in wait for her chance. “So!” She says, golden hair shining resplendent beneath the glow, like a flame encased in honey. “When shall we go shopping?” Her hands clap together, red lips parting in a friendly smile.

Oh.

You’d blessedly forgotten that promise of hers.

Swallow uneasily. “It’s fine… The polish and lip tint were lovely,” you smile, hoping she’ll leave it be. “Nonsense,” she chirps, collecting a few more roast potatoes onto her plate, Amren gingerly taking a few after her, nose almost wrinkling with suspicion. “You love books, and I apparently need a reason to spend time with you, so a shopping trip is perfect!” You offer her what you hope is a steady smile, one that disguises the strain you’re feeling, “I don’t want to be a bother—it’s fine, really. There are plenty of books in the library, anyway, and I’ve barely made it through the first two levels.”

Brows shoot up to her hairline. “Every book? You’ve been reading all of them?” You blink at her surprise, then hesitantly dip your head. Anxiety bubbles in your stomach, hands gripping one another as tension slices through your shoulders. “Are they— Am I not supposed to?”

“Oh, no! Nothing like that. Read away!” She laughs, raising her hands in a calming gesture. “I hadn’t expected your interests to be so different, is all,” she smiles. “I tried to read a couple from the library when I was younger and nearly bored myself to tears.” You smile faintly, relaxing back into your chair. “I guess they’re not for everyone,” you reply, posture softening against the back of your seat.

Mor laughs, the sound like wind chimes caught on a stray breeze, golden hair glinting in the warm light. You have to look away. It feels wrong to even look at her—to try and place her individual beauties. Peer down at your empty plate, hunger gnawing at your stomach lining. You should have remembered to eat before coming along.

“So what about tomorrow?” She asks, dipping buttered bread into her bowl. Raise your head to look at her, confusion lining your brows. She smiles easily, “for a shopping trip, of course.”

“Not every creature enjoys being put through your endless chatter, Mor,” Amren snipes from her side. The blonde female pouts, throwing a glare to the petite Fae on her right.

Warm toffee eyes flick to cocoa, brightening with an idea, “Elain could come along too!” Spine goes rigid, every ounce of willpower straining to keep from glancing to your left, wondering what he’s thinking. Swallow heavily, stiffening as your older sister is brought into the discussion. Mor smiles eagerly, “what do you say, Elain? Fancy a shopping trip tomorrow?”

Nails slice into your palms, piercing small crescent shapes into your skin—you’ve been trying not to bite them. Press further back into your seat, muscles coiling with anxiety. Not both of them.

You can practically feel the moment steely silver eyes pick up on your reluctance, like she has a sixth sense for picking at scabs. But Elain sighs apologetically, “that would be lovely, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline this time.” Relief washes over your skin, bathed in a cool breeze. “I told you so,” Amren snickers to the blonde female.

Mor’s brows dip together, “oh, piss off Amren. I know you like picking out clothes to wear for Varian with me.” The cunning female raises her glass to her lips, taking a slow sip. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replies smoothly, Mor’s lips twitching at the obvious denial.

Turn to Elain, taking in the natural glow of her features. “Have plans?” You ask quietly, hand absently resting over your stomach. Involuntarily glance at the soup further up the table, tongue flicking out over your lips. She shakes her head, softly curled silky hair cascading over her slim shoulders. In your peripherals, you can make out how shadows stretch across the table, reaching. “I’ve been dreadfully tired lately,” she admits, equally hushed.

Brow furrows in concern, about to ask further, but Mor’s on you again. “Guess it’ll just be us tomorrow!” She smiles genuinely, excited for the plans. When you glance sidelong at your sister, she’s already settled back into conversation with Cassian, your youngest sister and her mate joining in. You nod in surrender, accepting it’s something that has to happen. It would be overtly rude to decline her invitation now.

“Great! We can squeeze in a lunch, too,” she grins, washing down the soup with a glassful of wine. “Maybe you can direct me to some of the more interesting library books,” she suggests, eyes sparking with excitement. You nod again, fatigue beginning to weigh on your shoulders. It’s nice watching them, but you frequently forget how draining it is to be involved.

Lean back into your chair, pulling your stomach in as you feel pressure grow—you’d die of embarrassment if it started growling. Hastily drink some more in attempts to fill it up. Hungrily eye the plates of food. Maybe the poultry wouldn’t be too bad with the sauce—chicken was hard to come by all those years ago.

A delicious scent catches your attention, shadows skittering away as he silently ladles soup into his bowl. Nobody asks about the shuffling round of plates. Stomach rumbles and you flush, hands clamping over your stomach as humiliation burns along your skin. Mouth almost watering, but you force yourself to wait; appear only mildly interested in the food. An appropriate amount of attention for a dinner.

His hand knocks into the bowl, pushing it aside to make room for another dish, so it’s to his right. Almost subtle enough to appear accidental.

Still, you finally help yourself to the soup, equal parts affection and shame weighing in your gut.

————

The night air is crisp and cool, soothing the warmth of your skin as you follow quietly a way behind the group.

Feyre and Rhys have already made their way home, not liking to spend too long away from Nyx, despite knowing he’s well cared for. There seems to be discussion ahead of taking things further for the night, perhaps more drinking.

After having left the restaurant, Nesta had sought you out. You’d been surprised to say the least—a little on edge—but it had been nothing to worry about. She’d merely extended an invitation for you to join her on their trip to the Day Court. Perhaps to seek out some books you’d been interested in, she’d suggested.

You’d politely declined.

Now you turn to Elain, the darkness bringing out the slight dip below her eyes. “You okay?” You ask, the chatter of the streets soothing background noise. Fading to a constant hum in the back of your mind, falling into the empty recesses. She nods, sighing heavily. “I’ve been having some trouble sleeping,” she replies quietly. “And, I’ve…” shakes her head. “Maybe I’m coming down with something,” she sighs again. “You always were more prone to sickness than the rest of us,” you reply, nudging her shoulder playfully.

She smiles gently, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Maybe I’ll come and cough on you so you get ill for once,” she grins.

Nose wrinkles as you smile, “gross.” She laughs at that, then the two of you fall quiet, walking together in companionable silence. Trudging your way back to the River House, keeping fairly close to the main group who are still deciding whether or not to turn in for the evening.

You know you’ll be heading back to the House of Wind for the night.

Curious to see if a response has been written.

————

The House is quiet. Halls empty and silent as you pad down the corridor to your room.

Maybe you should check with Nesta whether she wants you to move out of here—switch to the River House. Anxiety slices at your gut, fatigue weighing your eyelids at the thought. You’re sure she’ll say something if she wants you out. You aren’t keen to initiate conversation with her unless necessary.

When you enter your room, candles are already lit, courtesy of the House. A few clothes lay on the floor, but it’s mostly clear. Almost tidy.

Parchment rests across your desk, and you eagerly hurry over.

Nothing has been added.

Excitement dies away, scratching at the backs of your hands absently.

Wearily take a seat, playing with the pen between your fingers, chewing on your lower lip. Debating the merits of bothering him when he’s taken no interest in your last comment.

Toss the thoughts out your window, throwing all caution to the wind.

Long day?

Bite down on your tongue, pulling at the top most layer of skin until you bleed. Wait for the paper to disappear. Seconds tick by, counting as they drain away. Steadily turning into minutes. Lean your cheek on the table, slumping forward as boredom creeps in, the pendant clunking as it hits the wooden surface of the table.

Do you remember your twenty-first birthday?

You aren’t particularly sure where the question comes from. Maybe the still-boxed jigsaw puzzle sitting atop a dusty stack of books has something to do with it.

Paper vanishes, and you perk up, straightening in your chair, fingers flexing. Excitement stirring in your chest. Absently reach for a pot of cream, unscrewing the lid as you trace the desiccated skin of your knuckles. Slowly soothe it in, rub the dips between your fingers, pretending your hands are someone else’s.

Parchment reappears, having you eagerly lean forward.

No.

You scowl at the curt response, twiddling the pen in your hands.

Sour and miserable indeed. Were my earlier questions not interesting enough to deign a response?

Letter vanishes, your feet tapping against the floor, fidgeting with the writing instrument. Turn to the anthology as you usually end up doing while waiting for his reply. Flip to the page you’d bookmarked, removing the silver embossed fabric. Lips quirk when you spot the title: Explosions: Rapid Division.

Shift the book so it’s in the centre of your desk, reading the introductory passage, instinctively scanning the diagrams with intrigue. Paper reappears atop the pages.

You forget I am a high-ranking individual with a multitude of tasks to attend to. I don’t get to spend my days simply lying around to pester the only person who’ll give me a scrap of attention.

Cheeks heat with embarrassment, yet you find yourself smiling at the familiar sharpness of his tongue. Ease out a deep breath, relaxing into your chair, flicking the pen in your dry fingers before lowering it to the parchment.

I think if you truly felt pestered, you wouldn’t be responding at all. Feeling lonely over there, Eris?

The paper vanishes, and you treat yourself to an image of his brows narrowing, lip curling as ire blazes in caramel eyes. Mouth widens into a smile as your feet tip-tap on the floor-boards, absently dipping your finger tips into the pot of cream again, putting more over the roughness of your skin as you wait patiently.

Parchment reappears, heartbeat picking up with excitement.

And what about yourself? The hell-cat is leaving for quite a while, isn’t she?

Lips part on a sharp exhale, spine straightening as your eyes flick about the room anxiously. How does he know that? Should you tell someone? Brow narrows in concentration, mind scrambling to think up a response that won’t give anything away, without sounding so vague he knows you’re avoiding the question. Swallow heavily, rubbing in the last of the cream, reaching for your pen. Lower it to the desk, and falter. What do you say? Is feigning ignorance too obvious?

The letter vanishes before you’ve had a chance to even put a speck of ink upon it, and it dawns on you that the question was timed. Picture the way his lips part is a slow smile as he sees the blank paper.

Manipulative bastard.

I suppose she’ll be taking the brute with her, too?

Fingers tighten on the pen, teeth grinding. Is this why he warned you about Eris? Because of how quickly he can extract information through carefully assembling pieces? Jaw tenses, but more silence will be confirmation.

How do you know any of that?

Chew on your lower lip as you await his reply, heart pounding. Azriel would be furious. Swallow down the nausea, teeth sliding beneath your nails—toeing the line of biting down, but restraining yourself.

Really, how do you think Court politics works? Of course we keep tabs on one another. I’m sure your shadowsinger has plenty of spies littered throughout Prythian. Possibly further, too.

Blood ices, peering down at your necklace and the map contained within. Imagining how wide his net must be to thread throughout it all. How much work it must take to keep everything running. Ruthless discipline. How tiring it must be. The weight, the pressure to keep it all maintained.

Head beginnings swimming at the thought of it. Would you even be able to keep up with him?

Why are you telling me this?

The pen scratches over the parchment, struggling to keep lines clean through the slight tremor in your hands. You can’t even begin to comprehend how much work must regularly go into sustaining such a network.

It’s a little embarrassing that you don’t already know. What are they teaching you over there? How to be an emotional burden?

The words hit sharp in your chest, hooks latching into the soft, vascular muscle of your heart. Poised to shred in an instant. Awaiting for the split second of weakness to rip. Rupture the organ in a clean tear.

Fear spikes.

I understand why your brother wants nothing to do with you if that’s how you speak with people.

The words are stamped into the page before you have time to reason it out. Blood rushes round your ears, wincing as your fingertips burn with the faint embers of power that have begun sparking up every now and again. Preemptively reach for the hand cream, preparing to soothe the itch once it fully manifests.

He’ll read into that comment. You know he will. Read between the lines to figure out just how much that one stung.

Parchment reappears and you warily lean forward, eyes skimming the clean script.

I’d been wondering where you kept your lovely claws, cygnet.

I didn’t mean to write that.

Wipe hands on your skirts, anxiety kicking up in the pit of your stomach. Roiling with worry.

You knew perfectly well what you were doing. You simply despise the way you are.

Has anyone else commented on how similar you are to Nesta Archeron?

Heart sinks to your stomach, biting on your tongue until you taste copper. Dislike how deep he’s wormed his way already. How did things go from light-hearted sparring matches to full scale battle in so few conversations?

And what about you? You write, mimicking his earlier diversion. Do your brothers share your affinity for poisoned words?

The parchment vanishes for a while this time, though you don’t even try to distract yourself with the anthology. Leg taps anxiously, trying to rub cream into your hands, hoping if it’s done tonight, they won’t ache tomorrow. The last thing you need right now is another flare up. Try to focus on the scent—light and sweet. Like gardenias and sugar.

Your attempts to redirect are as graceful as the first steps of a freshly birthed hound. Perhaps once you settle into your skin you’ll become more skilled at deflecting uncomfortable topics.

Skin prickles, hairs standing on end as you again raise the pen in hand. Considering routes to return to earlier discussions that weren’t so intrusive.

Alternatively, you could choose lighter conversation starters. For example, why did you send the anthology?

Certainly not the most succinct switch in direction, but better than continuing down that path. Ease a breath into your lungs once the paper vanishes, reminding yourself you don’t have to reply to him. At any point, you’re free to leave. Lean back in your chair, stretching out your limbs, muscles spasming and aching in your shoulders, fingers trembling as bones click in your spine. Deflate into the seat, muscles relaxing all at once.

You haven’t noticed anything yet?

Brows furrow, peering at the volume. Close it and flip it over—nothing on the back. Reopen it to the contents page, peering at the compilation of titles, authors, and page numbers. Scan the introductory section again, searching for anything to give you a hint at what he’s talking about.

(Writing about.)

I’m mildly concerned to ask? You write, keeping the conversation light, steering away from the earlier topics. Hoping he’ll keep away from family-related chatter.

Then read away.

Heart spikes at the ominous reply. What the hell is he talking about?

Eris, are you serious?

Paper vanishes, reappearing moments later.

Nothing but.

Roll your eyes at the response, but again set pen to paper.

If you were a human, you’d be riddled in various worry-marks by now. Does that thought upset you?

Lips quirk faintly, hoping it irritates him sufficiently.

Is this how you cope with discomfort? Pretending it away? Making light of it?

Damn him.

Instead of…?

Instead of hiding like a coward. Your blithe little act is growing dreadfully monotonous.

Straighten in your chair, shifting uncomfortably. Are you boring? Is that it? Is that the whole reason he…

Do fae have milestone dates like humans do? You said you don’t remember your twenty-first.

Paper disappears, and you become aware of the tension coiling in your shoulders. Maybe you should turn in for the night. Writing to him is supposed to be fun, not make you feel so…

Squirm uncomfortably, slouching in the seat. Crick your neck, releasing built up pressure, stretching your toes. Move to blow out the candles, but the letter reappears.

You really are turning out to be quite dull.

Brows scrunch with hurt, then even out. It’s ridiculous to be upset over behaviour he’s made no effort to hide. You shouldn’t be surprised he’s not changing, yet you had hoped…

Swallow, then sigh, the pen feeling heavy in your hand.

And you’re unnecessarily barbed.

(Who taught you to be that way, Eris?)

(Am I going to grow up to be like you?)

Paper vanishes, but you find yourself awaiting a reply. Marinating in your room while your lids grow heavier, shoulders slumping with fatigue, the base of your spine beginning to ache.

Stand from your desk, eyes flicking unwillingly to your nightstand, a small, royal blue gift box sat neatly atop it. The tule bow as resplendent as ever—shifting between vivid purples, reds, and pinks. Azriel’s gift.

(Sometimes, when it gets particularly bad, I like to look at it before I go to sleep. Fantasise about being the female he likes, instead of the one I am.)

(Sometimes, when I want to indulge in misery, I like to imagine dressing up for him. Imagine him telling me how pretty I am, imagine him sliding the golden hooks into pointed ears.)

(Sometimes I imagine.)

(Sometimes I imagine, because it’s the closest to reality I’ll ever get.)

Hear the distinct sound of paper on the table, and you still. End up turning anyway. Move over to your desk, reading the message.

You can do better.

Write again when you’re ready to show your claws.

Slump into the seat, head tipping back, staring up at the ceiling. Arms fall dully to your sides, too tired to feel anything.

Sigh heavily, forcing yourself to stand in favour of pulling away your clothes. Rid yourself of every constraint, pendant clunking on the bedside table.

The same-old, off-white cotton night gown swallows you, falling to your ankles as you settle into the mattress.

And to think, you’d been considering asking what things were like in his court.

How nice it might have been to make a trip of your own.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch

CBMTHY Taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd @horneybeach1 @jeannineee @harrystylesfan2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @abysshaven @starlight-hope @stupidwingboy @nastynesta @luvmoo @furiousbooklover @kuraikei @kemillyfreitas @chasing-autumns-chill @marvelpotter @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde @fall-myriad

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x yn #azriel angst #azriel acotar #CBMTHY #azriel x reader angst #CBMTHY Chapter 8

702 notes · View notes