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sunflowersbones · 3 months ago

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High Fidelity

Warnings: This fic will contain DUB-CON/NON-CON, Manipulative behavior, Spanking, Somnophilia. My warnings are not exhaustive, proceed at your own risk.

[STEVE ROGERS x reader]

Summary: The captain has unwritten rules laid out, ones you blindly follow. No questions asked, only orders followed. You’re like a loyal dog at his feet, ready to obey his every whim and command; only that you don’t realize how close your collar is to strangulation, and you're terrified that you won’t learn your lesson even when it snaps your neck.

NOTE: I suppose this could be my kinktober fic! Happy Autumn. Reblogs and comments are really appreciated, this is tumblr after all. I hope you enjoy!.

DIVIDERS: @writeyourmindaway l BANNERS: @vase-of-lilies

You look out of the window as the sun shines through, lightening up the break room. The slight bitterness of the last remains of your coffee mellow on your tongue as you start preparing it for the others. You make his at the end to ensure that it remains warm until he drinks it. An Americano, with three cubes of sugar. Just the way he likes it; you can only hope that he’s appeased by your attempts, even if it’s not much.

You walk back to the conference room, one hand balancing the coffee and the other carrying a few files Pepper needs. Your life as Pepper’s assistant involves having to clean up everything for her as well as for Tony. Well, more for Tony than Pepper.

As you walk through the corridor, you hear the regular good morning charades. You smile and nod too tired to say anything as your eyes beg you to get some sleep. Tony’s plethora of mishaps as of recently has only increased your work load. This boy leaves around more paperwork than Pepper can handle.

While work can be strenuous at times, you’re extremely grateful for what you have. Who wouldn’t want to work for Stark Internationals and… you got to meet him, talk to him, get to know him, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

“Ahh, there she is; we were wondering where our coffee monkey is.” You hear Tony chime.

“What he means is, good morning, Y/N.” Pepper snorts.

“Morning Pepper, Tony, everybody. Pepper, the files you needed.”

“Oh, thank you!.”

Most of them flock around you to get their hands on the coffee, but Sam and Tony beat them to it, like indecent children. The only ones with a little decency are Pepper, Nat, Bucky, and, of course, Steve.

You walk over to Nat and Bucky after you give Pepper hers. Both utter a small thank you as you give them theirs. You slowly turn around and place Steve’s cup near him on the table. He barely acknowledges you, his eyes concentrated on the file in his hand. You’ve always admired that; his ability to never get distracted from what he deems important—you could only wish to have such discipline.

You bask in his scent for a few seconds and immediately leave. You hope nobody caught you staring; you tend to do that a lot. If they knew, they’d make fun of you for being such a love-sick fool.

You finish entering all of last week's finances when you see him approach you. You avert your eyes immediately; to avoid too much eye contact is something he insists upon. You stare at your computer as you type in a few more numbers.

He clears his throat as he stands in front of you, a file in his hand.

“Hello captain.”

“Pepper wanted to return this to you.” He says as he extends the file to you.

“Oh yes, I’ll need this for...,” you stop as you realise he’s barely listening. You see him look around to make sure no one is nearby as he turns to you.

“You didn’t stop by yesterday.” His tone was laced with disappointment.

“I… I didn’t leave office until late, and I had to come back early; there was a lot of work left.” You wait for him to say something but soon realise he’s not going to. His face is as clam as ever, yet his eyes seem to be throwing a reproachful look at you.

“You’d just arrived from a mission too; I assumed you might be tired.”

"Yeah, I was; don’t you think that’s when I need you the most?” He whispers.

“I’m sorry, you never said anything, and I—

“Do I have to? After all this time.” You feel your heart clench at his accusation.

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

He stares at you for a few seconds, and you feel yourself shrink at his presence.

“I should leave; you’re not the only one with work here.” Before you could say anything, he’s gone, only the echo of his footsteps left behind.

The whole day passes by uneventfully, and Steve’s words stung. You tried to immerse yourself with work, but your mind seemed inclined to relive your conversation from the morning. You really hadn’t meant to upset him.

At about nine, you receive a text from Steve.

“Stop by tonight.”

Simple and direct your conversations never went past that. You still have some more work left, but you don’t want to upset him any further, so you pack your stuff and decide to head to his room.

You wish that Steve would come over to your place instead; having to sneak around like this can be really difficult at times. If it were your place, there’s nothing to worry about—nobody to catch you. But now... does he not think of these things?, you wonder.

You’re not particularly afraid of the others finding out, considering Pepper and Tony have themselves breached the professionalism code of conduct. Nat and Bruce are on their way to; there’s nothing new about finding love at the workplace, right?

You’re more worried about how he’s going to react when people find out; you really didn’t want to deal with the burn of something you could have avoided.

As you turn around the right corner, your heart jumps out of your body as your eyes meet a pair of questioning blue ones.

“Why haven’t you left yet; isn’t it late?” Bucky enquires; he seems to have changed into his workout attire, his hands warped in bandages. Who works out at this hour? You ponder. He seems to have read your mind through your face as he answers, saving you the trouble.

“Couldn’t sleep; thought I’d punch some of the energy out.”

“So, why are you still here?”

“Uhh work, there were a lot of emails and I lost track of time.” He gives you an understanding nod. His mouth slightly parts to say something but then thinks better of it. You move around to pass through, when he suddenly says, “I’ll walk you out.”

“Oh, it’s ok. I wouldn’t want to ruin your workout.”

“You won’t. I’ll walk you to your car and then head to the gym.”

“Really I — But, before you can finish, he turns back towards the elevator and presses the button. The doors swing open, and he steps inside, leaving you no choice but to follow.

Bucky leans onto the side, pressing himself to the cool glass walls as you stand rigid on the opposite side. You don’t think you’ve ever been alone with him before or this close to him. Now that you notice it, he’s built quite a lot like Steve, although Steve might be a tad bit taller or it could just be the hair.

You quickly avert your eyes as he catches you staring at him. He clears his throat as he says, “You really shouldn’t be working so late, Y/N; it’s not healthy, you know.”

“Overworking will only make things more difficult in the future; Pepper wouldn’t want that for her favourite employee.”

You chuckle at that, “I’m not Pepper's favourite employee.”

“Of course you are; she couldn’t manage a day without you. She’s always praising you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, plus we like having our morning coffee, and you’re the only one who’s kind enough to get it for us.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really.” You smile back.

“Still, thank you. We really appreciate it.” He says, a slight smile warming up his face.

The lift arrives at the parking lot, and you get out of it into the well-lit space. The cluster of cars overwhelming you as you look around in search of yours, lost in the myriad of similar-looking vehicles.

“Well… Thank you for acknowledging it, Mr. Barn—

“Bucky.” He cuts you to it, his voice carrying a timber of shyness.

“Bucky.” Your whisper back, happy at the aspect of knowing that after all, maybe the supersoldier doesn’t despise you. You don’t know why you ever worried about that; your communication with each other might have been limited, but he was never anything but kind and respectful.

You say your final good-byes and walk towards your vehicle. You open it and get inside, fumbling with your key, hoping that he would leave soon. You did not want to actually leave the building for the pretence of it.

You turn your key around, the car engine roaring at you. You look over ahead to see Bucky turning around to ride up the elevator again. You decide to stay put for some more time. You don’t want to ride the elevator just yet. What if he hasn’t left?

If you get caught again, you have no excuses left. So you stay put for a good 40 minutes before you make your way up. Bucky’s bound to be in the gym by now.

You slowly sneak towards his room, heels in your hand, to avoid the loud tenor of its click-clacking. You arrive at his front door and repeat the pattern twice. A knock-pause, followed by two rapid knocks. You’re received by silence, and you grow a little uneasy. What if someone shows up? What will you say? Was he really that mad?

You repeat the knock again and pause for a few seconds. The door swings open, and your breath hitch’s at the sight in front of you. He has a towel wrapped around his hip, his hair wet as the droplets still cling on to him. His face and body; glistening. There’s a frown etched between his eyebrows as he stares at you.

“You’re late.”

“I was—before you can finish, his hand extends to latch on to your belt as he pulls you in. He shuts the door close as he presses you against it; you feel your entire face heat up. You’ve seen him naked so many times, yet you can’t help but ogle at him and admire him every time you see him.

Every time he needs you, there’s a bloom in your heart that radiates through your whole body. One that just wants him near you, on you, inside you. And you just want to be there for him whenever, wherever, however he wants you to be.

He gives you a questioning gaze as you mumble. “Bucky kinda noticed that I hadn’t left yet, so I had to play around a little.” His frown still remains as you let out a “Sorry.” His hand moves around you to lock the door, the sound of it synchronising with a beat of your heart. His hand moves to rest on your lower back; it curves around you and pushes you towards him. Your breasts press tightly against his chest as he traps you between him and the door. He presses his mouth on to yours as he kisses you; it's messy, all teeth and tongue. His desperation seeps through you as you feel yourself get wet.

You feel his hard length against your core as he presses his hip to yours. You let out a loud moan, your head leans back onto the door as you attempt to take in shallow breaths. He moves his face ever so slightly to look at you as he moves his hips back and thrusts into you with a force that knocks the wind out of you. You gasp at that as he adorns a devious smirk.

His hand travels down your thigh, he lifts it up and hooks it around his hip, spreading you apart as he nestles in between you.

“Been thinking about this pretty cunt, the whole time I was away.” He whispers into your mouth. One of his hands travels under you skirt as he cups your core, his fingers maneuver around your underwear as he plays around with you.

“Well somebody’s excited.” He sighs out, hot breath fanning your face.

“On the bed, ass up, right now.” He sternly recites. Your body immediately moves on its own, pealing your clothes off of yourself. Anticipation overwhelming you as you lay down, just like he told you to. You can hear him pumping himself with the hand that was covered in your slick just a moment ago.

He climbs onto the bed behind you as his hands move to grope your ass. With a smooth clean thrust he slides himself inside you. He lets out a moan as you feel yourself clench around him. His right hand rear back and as he smacks you, you feel the sting pass through your entire body.

You bite your lips and start counting; you haven’t forgotten, the last time he made sure you won’t. “…3,4,5,6,” you feel hot tears well up you eyes, “…8,9.” His left arm gropes your titts and moves forward to your neck, he squeezes it as he yanks you back.

Your back collides with his chest and he increases his pace, thrusting into you. Your knees are falling apart and the only thing that makes sure you stay upright are his hands. Your own hand maneuvers back to play with his hair, you ruffle your fingers through the short strands and slowly scratch his head. His eyes shut close as his breath falters and his thrusts start to get sloppier. You press yourself even closer to him as you tilt your head sideways. You lean forward and place a light peck on his lips. He opens his eyes as his grip on you tightens at that, you’re sure that it’ll bruise by tomorrow morning.

He moves your upper body around uncomfortably so as his lips find yours. He growls into the kiss as he twists your body, you’re almost afraid that you’ll snap like a twig, but you felt reassurance course through you when you realize its him. You wouldn’t mind if it’s him but you also know that nothing would happen because it’s him; he would never hurt you, he would never hurt anybody. He is Captain America after all.

You feel yourself close and you cling on to him desperately. “Sir… sir, I’m clo—

“Hush, hush let go… just let go, I’ve got you.” You come apart around him as you clench him tighter and he closely follows you.

You fall on to the bed as exhaustion overcomes you. You can hear his soft, shallow breaths behind you as you close your eyes and focus on it. You feel him shift as he gets out of bed and leaves the room; he comes back a minute later carrying a bottle with him. His eyes are on you as you turn around to sit upright.

“Water?” he asks, his hand extended, his gaze never leaving you.

“Yes, please!” You timidly reply, your eyes finding the ground. You greedily drink up; you’d been parched, and you hadn’t even realised it.

He moves around to his bedside table and fiddles with the clock. With your thirst now quenched, you feel the soreness ripple through your body. You’re ready to drop right now; you don’t even want to think about the pile of work you’ll have to deal with in the morning. Some sleep would do you good, yet you know you’re not going to get any, simply by the way he stares at you. He’s waiting to rip that bottle out of your hands.

The minute you give him the bottle back, he’s on you. His entire weight pressed onto your aching body, his thrusts sending you to oblivion as he takes you over and over throughout the night.

You jump up as the alarm rings through your brain, the blaring noise annoying your ear just as its bright red numbers annoy your eyes. You absentmindedly notice that it's 4:00 am. You don’t have to turn around to know that he’s gone; the lack of warmth already suggests that. Not that you ever got a semblance of the next morning; you’re never privy to seeing his beautiful sleep-ridden form in the morning.

He’s always been punctual about his morning runs; they weren’t going to change for your sake. You pick up your clothes—the ones you’d scattered around, the ones he’s picked up and placed on his chair—and get dressed as you brace yourself for the day to come. At least he’s not far away on a mission; at least you don’t have to worry about how he’s doing, where he’s gone, or when he’ll come back, and you most definitely don’t have to worry about Tony’s inquisitive gazes as to why his assistant’s secretary would care about Steve Rogers.

The last time you chalked it up as concern for the team and worry about the authenticity of the Intel, but you won’t get such chances anymore, so you learn to apply patience into your daily regime. At least now you can take comfort in small glances and the echo of his voice; it fills your heart with a kind of warmth that you don’t think you can explain. Yet you know it; you recognise it. It blooms within you every time you see those baby blues.

Tony’s meetings have always brought a frown upon Steve’s brows; that wouldn’t surprise you, however the way he gazes at you does. It never lingers for more than a second, but now... you feel his gaze burn through you. You focus your attention on the second pair of eyes that have been longing for it as you hand over the cup of espresso to him.

“Thanks doll.” Bucky whispers back a nonchalant remark.

Steve’s eyes flick on to Bucky and then back to you. For a split second, his face hardens, but it immediately reverts back. His attention now back on the monitor in front of him.

“Hey, Steve, this is important, you know? It would be great if you were paying attention to what I’m saying instead of laser-eyeing my coffee monkey.” Tony quips.

All eyes are now on you, yet his remains stoned towards Tony. He gives him an unimpressed shrug, “You do have my attention, Tony.”

“Wait a sec, she gets everyone coffee, so why is she your coffee monkey?” Natasha asks, an eyebrow raised in your direction, “Shouldn’t she be our coffee monkey?” she smirks.

“Well, Nat,” Tony replies, “it’s my coffee, and she works for me, so...”

“First and foremost, she’s my assistant; second of all, she’s doing you guys a favor. She doesn’t have to do this. Now please stop hogging her and let her work.” Pepper tones suggest humour and a slight disappointed nod at Tony.

“Yeah, well, you work for me, Pepp, so technically everything’s mine.”

Tony squeaks out as the room breaks into smiles and low hollers. The attention is back on Tony now; you use this opportunity to escape. As you leave, you turn back slightly to look at Steve. Only to be met with his back towards you.

Once again, you leave work late. The workload these past few days has made taking care of yourself impossible. As you walk towards home, you mentally plan on what you should do to relax. Tomorrow is a Sunday, and you really want to spend some time for yourself. You turn around as you head in the direction of your apartment building and are momentarily surprised to find Steve perched up on his motorcycle.

He looks up at you, his eyes locked onto yours. Even a simple gaze from him brings a shiver down your spine. He walks into the building, and you quietly follow behind him. A part of you feels guilty for not lending him a key, but he never asked, and you didn’t want to seem overbearing. He moves towards the corner of the lift as you enter right behind him.

Even though it is quite late into the night, the overflow of people moving about was no less. You move over to the right to create space for the incoming group of people. An unbothered shove from the person in front of you pushes you back. Your body slightly leans towards him, his chest pressed to your back as his hands land on your hip, pulling you closer. You feel him hard against your ass, and you heave a shuttered breath.

While Steve has always been handsy, he never acted out in public. Although no one here recognised him, nor were there any cameras in the lift—unlike the all-seeing eyes of the stark tower—it still doesn’t help calm your nerves.

Your floor arrives shortly, and you weed your way out; however, you don’t see him behind you. You presume he’ll get out on another floor and descend the stairs. You slowly walk towards your apartment and unlock the door. You enter and switch on the lampshade in the hall, the low yellow colour dancing through the entire room.

You hear his heavy footsteps as you place your bag on the table. He enters and closes the door; his figure leans on to it as he lingers there for a few seconds, gazing at you.

Before you know it he moves forward in lightening speed. His hands find your body as he lifts you off of the ground. You wrap your legs around his hips as he hungrily kisses you. His right hand lands on your ass and he gropes a handful as his other hand squeezes the nape of your neck. You revel in the pleasure and slight pain he provides and you lightly bite his lips.

He places your body atop the table as he moves to nip at your neck. His hand rides up your thigh as he slowly drags your panties down. You hike your skirt up in an attempt to help him as your lips desperately try to latch itself on to his again.

He kisses you a few more times in an attempt to placate you before his arm pushes your upper body onto the table. He slightly bends his knees and leans over to lower his head in between your thighs.

His heated breath dances against your slick core, as he swipes his tongue over your folds. He laps from you hungrily as his hands tighten on your thigh; adjusting them.

“Please Steve.” You receive a slight bite on the inside of your thigh at that; a reminder.

“Captain. Sir, Please.” You moan a whimper out.

“Use your words sweetheart, what do you want?”

“I want you.”

“Yeah? What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to make me feel good.”

“Atta girl.” He whispers.

His tongue slightly licks your clit before sucking on it. You let out an embarrassingly loud moan as you move your hands over to run through his short Blond strands, you slowly massage his head and he pushes his face further into you.

You can barely handle it anymore as you let yourself go with a muffled scream and you nearly see stars around you. He moves his hand to the back of your hip as he stands straight and you know you’re not done for the day.

It’s been nearly three weeks, and he hasn’t said a word to you. Your lack of communication wasn’t anything new. But he hasn’t come to you even once, and you know he’s here and not away on a mission; you’d seen him at the tower chatting away with almost anybody but you.

Sometimes you’d encounter the supersoldier pair in passing, Bucky was the only one who would stop by to greet you; your Blond-haired nightly companion would simply walk past you. You’re unsure if it’s his usual impassiveness or if you did something wrong again.

It could be really difficult when it came to Steve; he had high expectations but was never precise about what he wanted. A part of you loved it when you could figure it out on your own without him having to spell it out for you. But sometimes you couldn’t understand what it is that he wants. It angers and terrifies you; that’s when the dread settles in. You don’t want to admit it or acknowledge it even,though a small part of you is terrified of being discarded away.

By the fourth week, you finally found the courage to talk to him, only to find out that he’s been gone for about three days now. A part of you felt guilty that you hadn’t talked to him earlier, but another part of you knows that it was the better decision to make.

The days flit through in a gloom as you realise how disheartening expectation can be. The only positive side to your loneliness and boredom was the better sleep schedule you managed to incorporate into your routine. The depths of sleep now welcome you without much hesitation.

You don’t really perceive the feeling of your bed dipping at the weight of another. Not even the feather-like touch of fingers skimming over your body. Sleep lulls you into a pleasant dreamscape; not even at the slight intrusion that your body felt could your mind understand anything.

It wasn’t until you felt his cock plunged into you that you truly registered what was happening. Your mind had just been in the cradle of sleep, and it felt like you had been snatched out of it. Your body felt trapped between the bed and the weight of the body pressed on top of you. The weight of it was the only thing you could focus on until the sting of him stretching you out coursed through your body.

You could hardly breathe; fear surges through you as your heartbeat increases. Your brain felt like it was on fire due to the sudden change your body felt.

The room was veiled in darkness except for the small shine of moonlight. Your eyes hadn’t been able to register to it in the beginning, but now they had become accustomed to it. You couldn’t decide if the sight in front of you put you at ease or if it alarmed you further.

It was the same blue eyes that you’d always longed to gaze at, the same glittery Blond hair that you long to touch, the same sharp nose, and the same clenched jaw. Except there was something in his eyes that terrified you, along with the dirt and blood that covered his face; his lip nearly torn apart. It almost felt like it wasn’t him, and your heart both feared and ached for him.

With a little more clarity now you notice the brushing of the sharp clothes against yours. He was still wearing his tactical suit; this— a first. Now that you think of it, you don’t ever remember him coming to you while wearing it; he’d never been desperate enough. You were a part of his leisure, not a need. Your hand moves to feel the shape and pattern with a sense of wonder.

He leans down to kiss you, the copper taste of his blood stinging your tongue. He bites on to your lip making you yelp; sure that now you’ve started to bleed too.

“Ahh ste— Steve, slow— slow down please.” You beg.

His hand moves to wrap itself around your throat as he slightly tightens his fingers around it. His pace not differing at the slightest. In fact, you're sure he’s slightly increased his pace.

“Talk to me... what’s wrong?” Your right arm moves up to hold his face as your thumb gets imprinted with his sweat and blood.

His gaze that had been on your lips this entire time, now flickers to your eyes as his pace slows a tiny bit.

“Just go to sleep.” The gravel of his voice a slight whisper.

You’re exhausted by him, and his voice lulls you even more; you feel the ceiling slowly blur. Your body moving along with the rhythm of the bed as you slowly fall asleep again.

A surprise party for Pepper's birthday would involve the utmost amount of planning done solely by you and the credit taken away by Tony. But the warm smile lingering on the strawberry Blond's face makes it all worth it.

The humdrum within the Stark tower makes you gleam inwardly; the initial stress and discomfort from the morning washed away. In fact, you had completely forgotten about him. The excitement of the party overtaking you—it felt so nice to see everybody like this. At ease in their own skin, today they were no different from any other office member celebrating a colleague's birthday, albeit a slight difference in luxury.

The long-haired brunet walks over to the quieter side of the party where you reside. You notice him walking over and slice a piece of the cake and extend it to him.

“It’s a real nice party you pulled off in such little time, Y/N.”

“Whatever do you mean?, this is all Tony." You say, a light gist in your voice.

“Oh please, everyone knows this is your work; pretty sure Pepper does too.”

“Tony was away with us on the mission; he wouldn’t be able to pull this off.”

“Well, I think you underestimate him, Bucky.”

“No, they underestimate you,” he sighs, anticipation brewing within. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was nervous.

“Do you like the cake? It’s got a complicated name, but I’m pretty sure it's got plum in it; I know you like it.”

His eyes light up just a tad bit as the corners of his mouth slightly turn up.

He chuckles again, “You’re supposed to get Pepper a cake of her choice, not what I like.”

“Everyone likes plum!. Anyway, I had to buy multiple cakes; sneaking this in was easy.”

“Thank you. It’s really goo— a thud on his back nearly chokes him as Sam comes up from behind, eager to receive his share of the sugary dessert. As you cut the slice for him, their regular jab of bickering continues. Sam says something in an almost teasing tone as Bucky tries to strangle him with his eyes. You like this version of them much more.

You slightly tap your feet as you gaze at the room you’re most familiar with. He hadn’t spoken to you the whole day, but his piercing gaze could not be shaken off of you. You recall the previous night's events; you’re unsure what to make of it. You simply couldn’t leave, at least not without hearing his voice.

“What are you doing here?” His voice startles you out of your thoughts.

“I- wanted to talk to you… about last ni—

“Oh, so now you wanna talk?”

“You seemed content with the company of others the whole day.” The harshness of his tone surprises you.

“What, Steve, what are you-?

“I believe it’s cap for you. Since when did you two get this close?” he says a finger pointed towards you.

“who?”

“Don’t act like a fool, Y/N; I see the way you look at him; act around him.”

“Who!?”

“Bucky.” He barks back.

“Are you trying to fuck him? Bored of me? Is that what this is about?”

The crassness of his words shocked you. You feel a lump form in your throat as your eyes sting.

“No, no...” you can barely form any words as tears start brimming up, your palms brush against your eyes harshly as to try to stop the free fall.

He sighs at that, his voice now a whisper, “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not. I’m— sorry…” you coarsely whisper.

He sighs again and moves over to sit on the bed, a hand extending to latch on to your dress. He pulls you with it, your slight resistance casually ignored. His grip becomes stronger as he pulls you onto his lap, his hand tight around your waist.

He simply gazes at you, and you start crying all over again, “I don’t know—I just don’t know what I did to make you feel that way. I never—you sob words stuck in your throat.

He tilts up your chin with his finger, forcing you to look at him. He leans forward to kiss you. The hand around your waist forcing you to straddle him as the other latches on to your hair. You try to stop, to get a word out but he uses this opportunity to shove his tongue in. The force of him making you relent.

“Steve, I—

The sudden swing of the door startles you just as your presence startles your visitor. He averts his eyes in shock, but his eyes move back to look at you, an ache painted upon them as he looks at your dishevelled hair and messy form.

“Hey, Buck. Need something?” Steve asks, his face slightly turned backwards.

Bucky’s eyes finally reside on the other man in the room, snapping him out of his trance.

“Uh… yeah. no- No, it’s ok.” He rambles as he moves back and closes the door.

You feel a sudden sense of shame course through you, and you move to get off of him. Only to have him shift you as he pins you under him.

“Don’t worry, he won’t tell anyone. It’ll be fine.” He says in between kisses. His hand toying with your dress.

Of course; you’re still his secret, one that he’s unwilling to share. But it’s ok. For him, you’ll do just about anything, as he would for you.

His insatiability and your incredulity, twisting around and consuming you into a single burning fire.

#dark!fic #x reader fic #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers fic #dark!fanfiction

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damagdsnow · 11 months ago

Text

Fix my reputation

Pairing: young!Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

Summary: You and Coryo are together for mutual benefits, he needs a well known woman by his side to look vulnerable and loving during the presidential elections and you need your reputation to be fixed after your unforgivable scandal.

Tag: fake dating, slow burn, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, manipulative/soft Snow, strong and independent reader (as she should), fluff, angst, power play, smut, fingering, thigh riding, switching sub/dom, degradation, denied orgasm, piv, dirty talk, overstimulation, oral (fem/male receiving), praise

Chapter 1, chapter 2;

aesthetic chapter one, aesthetic chapter two;

Tw: Snow being Snow, mention of alcohol, panic/anxiety attack, mention of blood, mention of parent death, physical aggression (not detailed and not from Snow)

Word count: 11.3k

note: before reading this I recommend you to read the first chapter here. Also, thank you so much for all the love and support on chapter one I didn’t expect all of this, I love you guys ❤️

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

The first time you had met Coriolanus was when Dr. Gaul had announced he was going to be her apprentice Gamemaker during the next Hunger Games.

At that time, you got a job as a health advisor, essentially you monitored tributes' vital signs and whether they were injured, you formulated unique medicine so mentors and sponsors could help their favorites heal faster and be a step ahead of the others. You were used to stitch wounds, examining patients, making prescriptions. This was a whole new thing to you. Dr. Gaul said to you that you were one of the most qualified doctors in that department, this is the reason why she pressured you to ‘amaze’ her.

”When I read your qualifications I was shocked to learn you were looking for employment,” was the first thing Dr. Gaul said to you when she requested to meet you.

You were in her laboratory, a bright room filled with gruesome creatures, dead and alive. She was standing in front of you, with her voluminous curly hair and her reddish long tunic, while she was feeding some sorta of genetically modified fish.

“I was looking for some thrilling experience,” you started fidgeting your fingers, “making me useful for the good of Panem.”

You practiced saying these words many times before meeting her, what were you supposed to say? That you desperately needed a job? That as soon as you found another position you would quit immediately?

”Your idea to formulate a drug that would help tributes in the arena?” With a long tweezer she dropped a pink cube in the small pool, ”so original,” she smiled while feeding the fishes with more cubes.

“You know what it means right? The games will last longer, people spending money on their helpless and injured tributes, mentors fighting to get the best sponsor,” she continued, her icy eyes were staring at you, “this is going to revolutionise the games.”

“I’m glad you liked my proposal,” you looked down, wondering if it was better to make eye contact with her or watch those horrific creatures with long fangs and thorny tails.

“Liked? I absolutely adore your way of thinking,” she put the tweezer back on a metal tray. “No one was able to surprise me since–” she paused and you looked back at her, ”do you know Coriolanus Snow? You two would get along well.”

At that time you wondered who he could be. Coriolanus Snow? His name sounded familiar to you. Only when Dr. Gaul introduced him to the department as an apprentice, you recognised his face.

You both graduated from the Academy, he was just a year older than you, and during the tenth annual Hunger Games his name was popular amongst students. Even though you went to the same school, you had never talked to him. Until a couple of months before the reaping, Dr. Gaul let you and other members work in her lab to do research. Of course he was there too, and chance had it that you were paired up with Coriolanus, sharing the same desk in the library section.

You could see him sitting opposite to you, his side was impressively tidy, just a black leather notepad and a book. Your half was full of microbiology volumes, agar plates and creased post-it. Coriolanus was too focused on his writing that he never gazed over you, on the other hand you were distracted by his presence. You remembered him differently in the Academy, his hair was slightly longer than before, his facial features were more defined, but the same cold aura surrounded him.

You felt kinda intimidated by him.

You’ve heard colleagues saying how brilliant he was: he won the Plinth prize in his senior year, he graduated with honors at advanced military strategies and he now had a high position as the right hand man of the pretentious Head Gamemaker.

He intrigued you.

You thought you were not the smartest person in the room. There was something in him, probably his confident behaviour while he was writing on his notebook, as if he was superior to you. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, you thought of ways to start a conversation, not a small talk, but something smart to impress him.

Your heart was beating fast and you finally figured what to say, “Mr. Snow I found a better technique for–“

“What makes you think you can talk to me?” He cut you off while still writing in his notebook.

His words stunned you. The conversation you imagined in your head was now gone, what could you say at this point? “I just wanted–” you stuttered

“Don’t bother, I don’t want to know.”

Your admiration for him slowly faded each day. The way he corrected you every time you had a proposal, pointing out your mistakes in front of everyone, or when he made you work till night in the laboratory to perfectionate your research. You tolerated that, you were used to hard work and mean teachers in your university years, but sometimes he didn’t even show the slightest remorse on things he would say about the districts. About you, indirectly.

Every year on reaping day you thought that it could have been you. Your name in that little piece of paper, read out loud changing your destiny. If it wasn’t for your father’s role in the Dark Days, you could have been in that arena yourself, instead of having the privilege to control tributes’ lives in a cozy chair.

Your dad was an engineer, more a genius mastermind who designed and built high tech weapons. Specifically incendiary bombs, which were crucial to stop the rebels from invading the Capitol during the last year of the war. The project was so successful that he obtained an honorary medal from President Ravenstill himself. He was able to buy a place in the Capitol, for the only purpose to give you and your sister a better future, and you actually lived in luxury compared to your old life back in the districts. However, your father did not side with the president’s political view, still he had to conform to it or he would probably be considered a rebel.

He played the game, to stay alive. Until he was not part of that show anymore.

“I only did it for you and Darla, I don’t care about heavens or hell. As long as my family is safe, I regret nothing of the atrocities I’ve done,” were the words your father wrote to you in a letter, before being killed.

They had never been clear about the dynamics of his homicide, but you were sure it was not an incident as someone would say. The Capitol killed him, they took your dad away from you, the only person you admired, that never let you down.

Your blood was from the districts, even if you’ve lived all your life in the Capitol, you couldn’t change your origins. Coriolanus reminded you of that, with his despicable comments about how ‘horrible and disgusting’ the people from the districts were. As if you didn’t exist to him, you were not a person from his perspective. But he did not know that, no one knew you were not from the Capitol, it was only written on your official documents.

“The games are meant to remind us all who we truly are,” was something Coriolanus often said, bullshit you thought, for you the Games were an insult to humanity and civilisation, cruel entertainment for empty people.

Coriolanus Snow, such a brilliant mind but wicked thoughts.

At the same time, you were not better than him. You worked for the Head Gamemaker and indirectly supported the unnatural destiny of those children. It was easier blaming the government, the bad guys, than admitting to be part of the corrupted system you truly despised. Your excuse was that you had no choice, and partially it was true, but can money win over your beliefs? Were you so desperate to bend your morality just not to be jobless and not respectable? You were acting as your father: were you a fighter or survivor?

Little did you know that your worst nightmares were going to haunt you soon. After the incident you were unemployed, with a bad reputation and with a man you hated.

Check, check, check.

You woke up at lunch time for the third day in a row, it was like being a child again. But there wasn’t your mom taking care of you, your dad making your favorite dish or your big sister spoiling you with presents. You couldn’t ignore your responsibilities and let the adults do the big things for you. You were the adult now, but if you kept self destroying your life this way, it was like everything you’ve done vanished away. Giving up was not an option, or to put things clear, it was the easier possibility amongst the other challenging beginnings.

One of these included him.

Coriolanus was not a beginning, he was more like someone you bump into when you are in a rush, someone who wasn’t supposed to be there but that let you miss the train, made you change your destination. However, the end of the journey was a mystery, with him nothing was clear from the start.

The gala was proof that you couldn’t handle that world, it felt like everything you did made your situation in a much worse position. If it wasn’t for Coriolanus, you would’ve busted into tears on live tv, he was used to that world, lying so naturally that he convinced them.

Cameras, flashes, interviews. Not exactly what you have been preparing for all your life.

You didn’t want to remember what happened that night. Your mind replayed memories as if it was a film, but you were trying to stop it. The dancing? The photographers?

No, the kiss.

The thought of his hands on your skin, his hair on your hands, his lips against yours. The more you pushed that image away, the less it faded from your mind. How could you let him do something like that? You knew that letting him in again would only bring more chaos into your life, but at the same time, you needed to fix your mess and he was your solution.

Also, you didn’t want to acknowledge that all the attention was something you needed. Not the bad press, the misleading articles and intrusive photographers. It was the care for you, the way he defended you, the warmth you didn’t feel in a long time. You knew it was fake, just a facade, but that pretending was healing an empty spot you have been hiding for ages.

When you checked your mail, you recognised the reddish envelope. It was from Snow manor.

"Be ready at 7 pm, someone is going to pick you up.’ signed by Iris Davebonn.

Of course it was not over.

He had a plan, and he didn’t give up easily. You also had a plan, he was not the only one with something to prove, but was he the only way out to your hell? Or was he another villain in your tragedy? You had nothing to lose but everything to gain.

Coriolanus is the forbidden apple, the fruit I shall never be tempted to desire.

You opened the fridge, still sleepy but hungry. For your breakfast you had a couple of options: water and rotten eggs or rotten eggs and water. So as always you decided to steal from your neighbor’s tangerines tree, you could easily pick the fruits from your window, the advantages of living on the first floor. You knew that the old lady next door noticed your thefts, but she hated you either way so at least you gave her a reason to. Since you didn’t have a monthly paycheck anymore, you had to live with your remaining savings, but soon you were left with nothing with bills and rent to pay.

Actually, Dr. Gaul never fired you, she wasn’t as upset as Capitol people, she even congratulated you because this way The Hunger Games were discussed more on tv and newspapers. For her, the incident was a perfect strategy to make the Games popular. She even thought you did that intentionally, because in her distorted view,”it was funny seeing their faces when for the first time, a 12 years old boy from district eleven won”. Against all odds, the unknown tribute without sponsors and hope to make it alive, won the games because “I killed everybody else.”

Not as funny as she thought.

Eventually, you couldn't handle the pressure anymore and you quit. The last time you saw her she persuaded you to be by her side the next year, “if you did that by accident, I wonder what you could do purposely.” You never considered that offer, you didn’t have to work there in the first place. If only you could go back, maybe… Maybe, everything would’ve gone differently.

The world fell apart when you heard the sound of cannon in that room. Everybody was cheering for that girl from district two, the favorite, the one that won Capitol’s heart during the interviews. The lovely Rea, the brave tribute that was bit by an horrific dog. That creature cannot be defined as a ‘dog’, more like a venomous lion with a crocodile mouth. Your role was to make a medicine that could heal her wound. Sponsors asked it, her mentor was willing to pay whatever price to save her, the Capitol was betting every penny on her.

The pressure was such that you mistakenly switched two drugs and gave her the other for the boy from District three. Fatal mistake.

You were their only hope but you became the death of them.

Relying on somebody else was the last thing you wanted, especially if it was Coriolanus Snow. You didn’t want to need him. But there you go, on your way to his house. Again.

An avox opened the door for you and silently you followed her to the living room. Iris and Coriolanus were both standing near a star shaped glass table surrounded by small couches, you wondered what their conversation was about because they stopped talking the moment you walked in.

“Speaking of the devil,” Coriolanus said looking at you, he was wearing a white shirt and black pants, his hair was messy as if he woke up a couple of minutes ago.

”There she is,” Iris stepped towards you, opening her arms, “the new star of Panem,” she hugged you like you were an old friend she hadn’t seen in a while, it didn’t feel as awkward as you thought, it felt sincere.

”I think you meant a fallen star,” you laughed hugging her back.

”Honey, the gala was a success!” She said with a warm smile.

You perceived his blue eyes gazing at you, the same look he gave you when you were walking with him arm by arm at the gala.

Why is he staring? Am I wearing something inappropriate? Or is it just the indecipherable look he always has?

“Did you read the newspaper?” Iris pointed at the glass table in front of you but you were distracted by a bowl full of pastries to even pay attention to her.

You leaned forward to read the page but your sight was too blurry. The tangerines were the only thing you ate since this morning, not really an energetic meal. You sat on the small couch and you put the newspaper close to your face, nose almost touching the page, squinting to have a better view.

“Are you blind?” Coriolanus said with an annoyed tone, he tore away the paper from your hands.

”I don’t have my glasses with me,” you lied, you have never worn glasses in your entire life.

You rubbed your temples trying to see clearly again and you swiftly took what seemed to be a pink cookie from the tray on the table. What flavour was that? You tried to make a straight face while chewing that sugary stuff, at least your body was eating something.

“To make things short— they think we are the couple of the moment,” Coriolanus started while reading the page, “that everybody was shocked— bla bla,” he rapidly said, “oh and they mentioned my name four times!”

“No, Mr. Snow, if you have to do something you have to do it right,” Iris intervened, taking the newspaper from his hands.

She sat down on the couch near yours and started reciting the article, reading word by word.

“Is love in the air? In Capitol City probably is.” She read the first line,“what a great title isn’t it?” Iris commented

“Go on or we are going to stay here all night,” Coriolanus said.

You looked at him, he was standing up making you feel inferior, like a shadow looming over you.

“After the unsettling events happened in the last Hunger Games, there is finally some hope in our community. The aspiring president Coriolanus Snow showed up with someone not-so-new in the latest gala before the presidential campaign.”

“ ‘not so new’ so kind of them—” you said and he shushed you. How dare he?

“She studied medicine and has worked with the Head Gamemaker for the past year. Rumor has it that for some kind of incident, she was the cause of the premature death of two tributes.”

Iris took a breath. “Unexpectedly, last night Coriolanus proudly walked with her for the very first time in public. Both dressed in white, representing the noble Snow name, they conquered the attention of the media and the crowd. Are they the couple of the moment?” She smiled while looking at you, “the best part is about to come.”

“If we are basing the answers on the way they look at each other, they definitely stole our hearts. We are looking forward to seeing how this unexpected love will grow.”

You laughed, that was too corny for you, was it possible that they truly believed that little show you made?

”Will Coriolanus Snow win the election the same way he won her heart? Right now we are in love with both of them.” Iris finished.

“Did they really write an article about our possible love story?” You took another cookie, green this time, “they really are bored people.”

”You should be happy they didn’t talk about what happened in the arena,” Coriolanus said but you couldn’t see him, he was standing behind you.

“Well, they mentioned it anyway,” you said while chewing that lemon pastry, or was it mint? For a moment you thought it was better starving than eating whatever thing it was.

”Thanks to me they probably will give you a chance,” he said.

”The tone they used– it was like they think you are doing charity by being with me.”

“Well it kinda is–”

”Oh shut up,” you stand up, turning to him, “your name has never been this many times in a newspaper.” You were close to him, and even if you were not sitting anymore, you felt small standing there facing him.

His eyes were still examining you, as if you were a book written in a language he couldn’t read.

“You two look like siblings fighting over meaningless things,” Iris said, stepping in, getting in the middle of you.

“See? Even Iris thinks you are being overly dramatic.”

You fought the urge to answer back, did he just call you over-dramatic?

“Honey, look who's talking,” Iris said pointing a finger at him, “you are not really easy to work with,” then she turned over to you, “in just one day people fell for your fairytale, imagine what you can do in a month.”

“Do you really think this can work?” You avoided looking at him behind her shoulder.

“They don’t care about what you did, you are just another distraction from their empty life,” she explained to you, “they need something else to talk about.”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, there are more important things,” Coriolanus said, “such as the presidential elections.”

”Is there something else you can say instead of politics and fame?”

”What do you want me to tell you? My sad story about when I mixed some drugs in the laboratory?” He stepped closer, ”oh no, that is something you always talk about.”

”I liked you better when you ignored me,” you said remembering the first time you tried to have a conversation with him.

“Stop please,” Iris said, “you two should bond more, this atmosphere is making me wanna retire early,” she touched her hair, orange this time, “maybe you will like each other.” She walked away from your sight.

“It's going to be tiring enough pretending to like him in public,” now there was just the glass table separating you from him.

“So this is a yes, you are going to do this,” his face lightened up.

“It seems this charade it’s working,” you said convincing yourself that was your best chance of getting your reputation back.

Did you just sign a pact with the devil?

He is the forbidden apple. But it doesn’t mean I can’t just play with it.

“Before I forget,” you heard Iris voice coming from the door entrance, “next week dinner with the Holdens and Suncots,” she was putting her yellow coat on, “they gladly accepted the invite here,” then she put her gloves on, “see you tomorrow—oh and try to bond you two,” she pointed a finger at him before closing the door and leaving you alone with Coriolanus.

You looked at the clock above the coat hanger and it was getting late, but you had nowhere else to be at that moment. No one waiting for you at home, no one expecting your call, nothing to do the next day.

“Tigris is going to design another dress for you,” he said referring to the dinner.

“Can’t I just wear something I already have?” The thought of him deciding what color and style your dress had was not something you tolerated.

“Of course not— do you dine here or?” That didn’t sound like an invite, more as if he was suggesting you go home.

“So kind, I’ll pass,” you said with a sarcastic tone.

”I asked because you almost devoured the entire jar of pastries.” He smiled, waiting for your reaction.

”For the record, they are tasteless.”

He rolled his eyes, “the car is waiting for you outside,” he turned his back and walked towards the kitchen.

”I can walk, I don’t need your personal driver,”

Your words stopped him right in his tracks, ”what if you get lost? How could I do without you?” He said jokingly, turning over to see you, “and it’s fifteen minutes away, in the dark— don’t be a child and go by car, you’ll get used to it.”

You didn’t answer, not like you had something to say. Of course you would’ve accepted the ride, your apartment was too far from his house, you just wanted to irritate him. Maybe you were not so different from Coriolanus, you were playing the same game.

Car rides make you recall only good memories. Your dad got a car when you were little, it was gray and smaller than this one, and he used to drive you to school everyday. Until you got into university and you moved to your current house, it was ten minutes from university so you got used to walking.

The engine stopped and you stepped out of the car, it was cold outside and you wished you had heating at home, a luxury you couldn’t afford anymore.

You fumbled with the keys trying to open the door, you were freezing and you rushed because you heard some steps. You didn’t want to have a conversation with your neighbor, she’ll probably just scold you about the stolen tangerines and how loud you shut the door when you go out, the old same story. You finally walked inside but someone blocked you from closing the door. It was a young man, probably in his thirties, he had a tiny recorder on his hand and you immediately clicked.

“Hi, I’m from Capitol’s People Magazine, I wanted to ask you some questions about your relationship with Coriolanus Snow,” he said pointing you to the black device.

”I’m sorry— for interviews, talk to my manager,” you said with a kind tone.

Iris suggested that every time journalists asked you questions you did not want to answer, you had to say those words, and now was the case. You slowly closed the door but the man put his feet in between.

”How could the heir of one of the most influential figures be with a corrupted woman like you?” He looked at you with eyes full of anger.

Corrupted woman, this was new to you. What was the correct answer to that?

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled while trying to close the door by pushing it against his feet but he was not intending to leave you alone.

He aggressively tried to wedge his foot into the door, forcing it to stay open while he continued to badger you with invasive questions about the gala.

”Are you planning on ruining his image while stealing his money?” He reached your arm and grabbed it.

“What’s wrong with you?” His grip was getting tighter as you tried shoving him.

He was strong enough to smash the door open, stepping inside your house. With his hand on your wrist, he roughly pushed your body against the wall, your back facing him as he stood behind you, your heart pounding outside your chest.

“You are just a crazy bitch,” he whispered, “you think you can fool them but are a disgrace for Panem,” he pushed your head against the wall, one side of your face hitting the coarse plaster making your skin burn.

“Get off me! ” you shouted, struggling against his grip.

In response he hit your head again against the wall. You squinted your eyes in pain as a tear streamed down your face, you felt powerless, everything happened so fast.

“Tell me what you want from me,” you said with a weak voice.

“After all you did, you should shut the fuck up and do what you are asked to do,” he put his hand on your scalp as he pushed you harder against the wall.

You screamed like you never did in your entire life, someone had to hear your cry for help, right? But he was quick to cover your mouth with his palm and that was the perfect occasion for you to bite his skin. He kept his hand on your mouth while he choked on his own screams.

Your muffled howl echoed in the room but no one seemed to hear you. Or so you thought. Someone grabbed the man from his collar and pushed him away from you. It was the driver, his tall figure was now beant down to beat that man. You were paralyzed, now your back was against the wall and your lungs finally breathing, but your body was unable to answer your brain’s orders.

”Run!” The driver screamed at you while punching the man one more time, “go in the car! Run!”

You ran towards the car but your legs felt weak and your head too heavy. You opened the car door and you laid down in the back seats. What the hell just happened?

What if he came back? What if next time there is not someone to save you? Your anxiety grew inside your chest and you kept yourself from crying.

“Are you okay, Miss?” The driver asked breathlessly as he violently closed the front car door with a rush, “should I take you to the hospital?” He was looking at you, he had an old scar on his cheek that you didn’t notice before.

You shook your head, “I just need water” you mouthed, trying to maintain a regular breathing.

“Thank you for saving me,” you whispered.

You looked at him through the rearview mirror, his eyes reflecting the street lights while he was driving as if nothing happened, as if his bloody knuckles on the steering wheel were not hurting.

After minutes that seemed hours he talked, “It is my duty,” he said, “Mr. Snow wouldn’t have forgiven me.”

Coriolanus was in his study preparing a speech for the next interview, he had to be careful to pick the perfect words, to speak with the right tone, and to make the adequate facial expressions. Nothing was left to case. Every single action had to be meticulously studied and calculated.

It was his specialty. Playing with words and making people fall in love with his charm. He did it naturally, molding people the shape he wanted. Because he had to have everything under his control, his power, his eyes.

For the first time he was struggling. He was stuck on the opening line and he didn’t know how to continue. Sleepless nights and alcohol were the usual in the past week. This was one of the nights. Locked in his study until he wrote something of that speech, depriving himself from sleep.

Coriolanus was walking around the room, fidgeting with a pen on his long fingers. Until his mind-wandering was stopped by a firm knock on the door, annoyed it could be an Avox, he ignored it. But the knocking didn’t stop.

He let out a sigh as he unlocked the doorknob, “how many times do I have to tell–” to his surprise, the driver showed up at his door, “Virma, what are you doing here?”

Coriolanus soon found the answer to his question by looking over the driver’ shoulder. You were hidden behind his back, like a hurt animal scared of its fate. You didn’t want to come here, like a lost child brought back home. But where were you supposed to be? What place instead of his?

Your ruffled hair, your smeared makeup and your empty look. It didn’t take long for him to understand something happened. A sense of anger grew inside of him. This was not written in a script, it was not meant to happen and when things did not go according to plan, Coriolanus lost his composure, he could have been unpredictable.

His face darkened. He grabbed your arm and he dragged you in his study, along with Virma. You felt his hand on your wrist, his touch was something familiar to you, maybe gentle, as if he was actually worried about you. He pushed Virma to the side and closed the door behind him, casting you both in the dim light of his opulent study.

You were now facing him, his expression was different from an hour ago. His hand traveled to your face, his fingers lifting your chin as he leaned to have a better view of you. The left side of your face was scraped, fresh cuts burned on your temple as droplets of blood trailed your skin. Coriolanus traced his fingertips on your bruised skin and you flinched, instantly regretting the movement as a flash of pain shot through your head, but he was not rough like that man. He loosened his grip on your arm, his eyes softening as he took in the sight of your injuries. He was delicate, as if he was touching something fragile.

You were too focused on his expression to even pay attention to your sore skin. His knitted brows, his parted lips and his concerned look.

“Who did this to you?” His voice barely above a whisper, he glared down at you as he inspected your figure, as if he was looking for other scratches he missed.

You could almost feel the tension radiating from him.

His hand was now on your neck, fingers touching the back of your head, “a journalist, I don’t–” you looked down, “he was asking questions but I–"

“Mr. Snow, I think I know who he is ,” the driver said and for a moment you forgot he was in that room, “he is Lucius Cliffhard' son.”

"Cliffhard' son? The father is running for president why would he–” Coriolanus didn’t finish his sentence and he looked back at you, “thank you for your service Virma,” his hand left your neck leaving a warm spot, “we will talk about it later.”

You heard the door closing and now you were left alone with him. You could barely stand up, your adrenaline was leaving your body and your anxiety was taking its place.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” he walked towards the opposite side of the room, looking for something in the small bathroom of his study.

You were standing in the shiny black floor, your heart was pounding so loud you could not hear your weak voice, “he probably was waiting for me to come home because the moment I opened the door he uhm—“ you stuttered, "started asking questions but I didn't answer, so he pushed me against the wall and his hand was on my mouth—“ you paused, ”he hit my head and—“ you felt a lump on your throat and you hoped he didn’t hear you.

His steps were again echoing the room, his figure walking closer to you. He had a piece of cotton wool in his hands and without a notice he held it against your scratches by cupping your face with his other hand. It was burning your skin, his fingertips were slightly brushing your neck while he dabbed gently the cotton to clean the wounds on your temple.

”Continue talking,” he said nonchalantly as he tilted your head to have a better view of tour left side of the face.

You stopped breathing in that moment, maybe because of the nauseating smell of the disinfectant or maybe it was because he was inches away from you, his focused look on the bleeding cut, “I think he just wanted to scare me,” you managed to say in a steady tone.

The blonde snapped his head at you, his blue eyes now on yours, “he is a psychopath,” his scent reminded you of that night at the gala, “he hit you because you didn't want to be interviewed, he could've killed you."

You reached his hand where he was pressing the cotton wool and for a moment your fingers brushed before he removed his hands from your skin. “you are exaggerating– he just needs help, ” you said.

Coriolanus closed his eyes, he clenched his fists and the knuckles turned white. He walked towards the desk and he poured himself a drink, taking a long burning sip. You watched him in silence as you inspected the reddish cotton on your hands.

“Do you trust him so much you want to come back to your house?” He was behind his desk, arms resting above the chair, “I told you, here you could have been safer from the media,” he raised his voice, “but you are stubborn, you risked your life and– if it wasn’t for Virma who knows what could have happened,” he said nervously while pouring himself a drink.

“So now it’s my fault?” You bawled at him.

“You don’t understand that now whatever happens to you affects me,” he said, “what are they going to say when they see your bruises and god forbid— he writes an article saying who knows what lies of what happened.”

“See? You don’t care about my safety, you only care about what they think,” you stepped closer to him because he wasn’t even looking at you, “you want me as your puppet, so you can have me under your control— your house, your peacekeepers, your scripts— it’s all part of your plan,” you said.

”You are free to go back to your pathetic life if that’s what you want," he took a sip of his drink, still looking down, “I can’t save you from yourself, after all– you were miserable before and now too,” it was like venom coming from his lips.

A tear streamed down your face, “this is what I hate about you,” you scoffed, “you are a selfish and heartless man, I was right from the start.”

You have called him only good names: uncaring, unaffectionate, disrespectful, selfish and heartless. The list was getting longer.

“What did you expect? I thought it was going to be easier with you but you are getting on my nerves,” he stood up walking towards you, “you should be grateful— but no, you like acting so superior to me,” his chest was getting closer to you.

You scoffed, “why? Who are you?” You looked up at him through your lashes, “just a rich spoiled kid who is playing at being the next president of Panem.”

“And you fucking need me,” he said against your cheek, “this is why you didn’t leave, you don’t want to admit that without this ‘heartless man’ standing in front of you who knows where you could be right now,” his eyes were consuming you.

”Look who's talking,” you pointed a finger at him, “the Capitol's favorite toy who needs a ‘miserable girl’ to make him popular.”

Coriolanus placed his free hand on your wrist, squeezing it lightly, “you like this am I right?” He licked his lips, “talking back at me, uh?”

His nose was touching yours, his grip was burning your skin and you could feel his hot breath mixing with yours. The blonde was dangerously close to you, but you missed that feeling. Have you already erased what he has said to you? Was he so powerful to make you fall for his spell?

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

His lips brushed yours, memories flooding back to you. You didn’t know if he was about to bite you or kiss you. It would have hurt you either way.

“Tell an Avox to prepare your room,” he said, “or freeze in the streets, I don’t care— your choice.” Coriolanus let your arm go and he walked away from your sight.

It started to be just for show but the backstage was even worse than the real life. At the same time you could not give up on this play, you had to change your rules, your morals, to keep being with him.

So you were alone in the dark in the hallway, thinking about running away or staying.

Coriolanus could not win this way, you hated to admit you still needed his presence to fix your reputation. The darkness seemed to swallow you as you hesitated, torn between your principles and the pull of his influence. He had too much power right now, but you were willing to wait, by making things your own terms.

As you stood there, unwilling to give in to his manipulations, the lingering memory of his touch warred with the sharpness of his words. You slammed the door shut for him to hear you, he would have to do better to get you away from him.

Coriolanus could have touched your face as if you were the rarest creature on earth but the same lips once brushed yours, could tell the most hurtful things to you.

But you did that too. You were both craving the same sin. But too proud to admit on your faces.

“Is everything okay now?” You were in Tigris room, a colorful space barely illuminated by the outside light. It was in the basement, not really a cozy place to work.

You were talking about the aggression that happened a couple of days ago, nothing you wanted to recall actually, especially your conversation with Coriolanus, but you didn’t tell her that.

”Yes, the bruises are healing over,” you answered, touching your temple.

Tigris smiled at you while taking your measurements. She didn’t look like her cousin, apart from the blonde hair, she was pure and kind hearted. Why was an angel like her on earth with people like you? Like him?

“Why are we doing this again?” You asked “Didn’t you already have my measurements?”

You were standing on a stool, only wearing your undergarments while Tigris was putting the tape measure around your chest.

”Coryo sent me a note telling me that last time the dress was a little loose,” that was the last thing you could ever expect to hear from her, because it was in fact true, he noticed that.

“He did what?”

“I know, I was surprised too,” she smiled, “anyway, I read the newspaper.”

Oh no, you didn’t want to talk about that too.

“You two look great in the picture,” she handed you a wrinkled page where you could see a black and white photo of you and Coriolanus at the gala, he was looking at you while holding your waist.

You didn’t know about the existence of that picture until now. That night you were too starved to even pay attention to the newspaper, how could you miss that?

“It was so strange seeing him with a woman,” she commented while looking for some fabric.

“What do you mean? Has he ever had a girlfriend?” You knew the answer to that question but you wanted to hear from her.

“More like ‘girls’ than ‘girlfriends’, ” she laughed, “I’ve never met one of them,” Tigris wrapped a red cloth around your waist.

“Well, not that I’m special,” you looked at the mirror in front of you, “it’s just a stupid show.”

“What a shame,” she folded the excess fabric on your side and put a needle, “I liked you,” Tigris whispered.

You wished you could do something for her, she deserved more than a molded little room and a cousin like Coriolanus.

“So we are seeing each other more often, am I right?” she broke the awkward silence.

“Yes, Iris forced me to stay in this house,” Iris was really in apprehension when she saw your bruises, she lectured you on how people are vicious and in your ‘situation’ it was better not risking more.

“How lucky, aren’t I?” You added.

“I know my cousin can be– difficult to understand but,” she walked behind you, “there are some things that brought him to be this way,” her fingers tighten the fabric on your back, “and of course he’s not a saint, he just needs something– someone perhaps, to make him remember who he really is.”

“I can’t fix him,” you glanced at her reflection in the mirror, “I’m broken as much as he is and– we are incompatible.”

“As the sun and the moon?”

“Maybe.”

The comparison did fit well.

One is the star planets gravitate around, the only source of light at the center of the solar system. The moon is a small satellite whose only purpose is to spin around the earth, showing only one face and depending only on the planet's gravitational field.

Coriolanus wanted to appear like the sun, bright and powerful but he only displayed one face like the moon. You felt small, needing for something to orbit around as the moon did, but you didn’t know how radiant and capable you actually were, exactly like the sun.

Since you moved in his house, nights were longer than the others. It was getting harder to fall asleep because of your intrusive thoughts keeping you awake.

Is the door locked? Am I safe here?

The positive side was that your new room was probably bigger than your whole apartment. Then, you were not freezing anymore and you were finally eating food, not stolen fruit and smelly milk.

Even though you were living in his house, you tried avoiding his presence: by not having lunch the same hour as him, by going out your room only when you heard his door locking or having your usual meetings with Iris before him. That was your way of saying that he could not control your life, especially when he treated you the way he did.

However, that was still his house.

Red silky bed sheets, roses scent, his gold engraved initials on objects.

Coriolanus was not easy to forget. It was as if he had poisoned the air you were breathing, everything reminding you of him. The good and the bad. You promised yourself to not be tempted anymore, he was mercilessly manipulating you into believing he was the person he wanted to appear at the Capitol. But other than his mesmerizing eyes, his golden curls and delicate hands, there was another man hiding in his shadow. You had to picture that side of him every time he teased you, or you could be a sinner.

You were laying on the bed, leafing through the pages of the brand new script it was sent to your room. This was even worse than the other. Not only you had to remember some political matters regarding the current campaign, but you had to pretend again how good of a man Coriolanus was. How he supported and cared for you and how bright your plans as a couple were.

“I was extremely lucky to meet him, he is the sun to my dark days,” what an irony, “I am looking forward to living this exquisite love fully by his side.”

So cheesy for what?

“You can’t avoid me forever.”

You heard a muffled voice coming from the hallway, you walked towards the door but you didn’t answer. It was him of course, after the bad there was the good. He surprisingly tried talking with you on other occasions, but you had walked away before he could even finish his sentence, running away was easier, or god knows what you could’ve done.

“I can hear your heavy breathing,” he said close to the door, “open the door or I will,” he was waiting for your response, thinking about what he could say to get your attention. “Please?” Good manners are always the right answer, right? Right?

You let out a sight as you unlocked the door. Coriolanus was standing close to the room’s entrance, his arm was leaning against the wooden jamb and you noticed he was wearing his coat, as if he was about to go out.

“Oh so you’re alive,” he said, “I was worried about you.”

You couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but it didn’t matter either way. Right?

“What do you want?” You were still holding the doorknob, not letting him step inside the room.

“Come with me, we have to go somewhere,” he said with a rush in his tone.

“I kindly refuse your invitation,” you were about to close the door but he put his hand in between. I could squash his fingers, you thought, nothing he could not recover from.

Coriolanus rolled his eyes, “sooner or later you will have to pretend to like me,” his face was partially illuminated by your room light, making his eyes brighter.

You looked at his long fingers keeping the door open, he had his usual shiny ring on his index finger and for a moment you thought you could really squash his hand, “I think it’s better we have less interactions possible apart from the social events.”

“It’s been days since people saw us together, yesterday they asked about you at the debate,” he hissed, “see? Instead of asking about my political project they were– nevermind, just come with me.” His eyes were begging you, such a satisfying image.

“I’m not dressed up, what a pity,” you said mockingly.

He peeked at your figure, “you’re fine.”

You did not feel fine. You weren’t even wearing your clothes, you did not had the chance to pack up your things from your apartment and you had to ask Tigris for some piece of clothing that could fit you. She gave you some of her designs, a green matcha wool skirt matched with a cotton white top. At least you were about to wear pretty clothings, not your old unironed shirts.

“Just for show,” you said while grabbing a jacket.

“Just for show,” he echoed.

You realised that in this game of power and appearances, keeping your distance wasn't an option anymore. You knew that you were now entwined in a dangerous dance with Coriolanus, one that could lead to momentous success or catastrophic ruin. The stakes were high and your mixed feelings towards him could not interfere with your plan, he was not the only manipulator anymore.

“Where is he bringing me?” you asked Virma after fifteen minutes of silence in the car. It was better not talking directly to Coriolanus when possible.

“Miss, isn’t this a date? Enjoy the ride,” the driver said with a smile.

You and Coriolanus laughed. Date? The only date you were looking for was the date this show would end. The car stopped and from the window you immediately recognised the place. It was not a fancy restaurant, a loud club or someone’s wealthy mansion.

First date with Coriolanus Snow at… the Citadel?

That was not what the script said.

You heard the car speeding away as he walked towards the huge grey entry, he unlocked the door and he stepped inside. You stood on the sidewalk, not sure if you wanted to follow him, it was too late to change your mind and too dark to be alone outside.

At least ten peacekeepers were guarding the entrance but Coriolanus walked towards the grey corridor unbothered. The first time you were there, you were searched as if you were a prisoner, as if you could hide a bomb inside your small pockets. This time they did not even consider you, because you both spent months working day and night in that cold laboratory.

The elevator plunged down at least twenty floors, the dark walls were so thick you could strain your vocal chords for hours but no one would hear you. You were standing beside him, waiting for the door to open as soon as possible. The only sound echoing in that place was the loud machinery that was slowly moving down.

“Did you miss this place so much you wanted a guided tour by me?” You asked, breaking the silence, “or is it a surprise party for me?” Five floors left, “tell me now so I put my best smile for the cameras,” you said mockingly, but he didn’t even look at you.

Couldn’t this man laugh for once? So boring.

The elevator doors parted and you finally stepped inside the laboratory. It was an open space divided into three areas. The center was where Dr. Gaul did experiments with animals, occasionally it was also where she did her lectures and exams; one side was the sterile area where the researchers did surgical operations and medical trials where they often experimented with new drugs on genetically modified animals; on the other side, there was the library and research tables, where you mostly spent most of your time studying advanced biotechnology methods.

“How romantic– I guess what people are going to say when I tell them for our first date you took me to see these sweet and lovely creatures,” you said as you looked at the wall glass with dead beasts inside clear yellowish cases.

“You should keep the bar low with me— and I just need to find some documents, you know this laboratory better than me,” he removed his coat and stepped towards the library on the other side of the room.

“You tricked me– you just wanted a favor from me,” your voice echoed and you were not sure he heard you. You walked through the library looking for him.

“I’m in the archives section,” his voice was not far away.

The library was arranged in a circular pattern, as if the bookshelves were layers and in the very core there was a large space with study desks, the ones you had slept on many nights back when you worked there. Soon you found the blonde leaning over a desk while reading some pages in an orange envelope.

“Did you find it?” You asked in an annoyed tone.

“Here there is– this is your file,” he said while standing up.

“My what now?” You walked over him, intended to grab the envelope with the 'confidential' print on the cover.

Coriolanus stepped back, leaning his back on the bookshelf behind him, “given your precedents, I thought it was better to check your past before they did,” he had already read your file a long time ago, but he didn’t tell you that.

He started reading the first page, “you uhm graduated with honors in medicine– bla bla bla first student in your class, —okay here, you specialized in general surg— oh no you did not” he paused, “yet?” Coriolanus looked at you with a puzzled face, suggesting you to say something.

“I will this year,” you looked at your fingers, fidgeting with the ends of your jacket.

“Lie number one, here it says you didn’t pay the tuition,” he pointed at the paper.

Fuck. You couldn’t afford paying for electricity, imagine the university fees, in the most expensive city in Panem. You stuttered something but he continued talking.

“Anyway, you got a place in the Ranvistill Clinic —impressive— and then you mysteriously asked for a transfer after two years, and this is how you got here,” he looked at you, “what happened?”

Was that a tricky question? This conversation was making you uncomfortable. You felt under trial, as if you were accused of crimes, Coriolanus was the judge and you were the only one defending yourself.

“Is this an interview? I didn’t know that apart from being interested in writing scripts you also were a human resource guy,” you tried switching the topic, the conversation was getting too personal.

“Do you have something to hide? I must be prepared for anything they can ask me,” he frowned.

You had many secrets you hoped he didn’t already know, “I changed jobs, that’s it.”

“You failed my test,” he chuckled, “you lied straight to my face in a serious matter –this is lie number two.”

“A test? What the hell Coriolanus.” You sighed as you walked over a desk, sitting on it.

“See? This is why you don’t have my trust.”

The man that cannot be trusted was really talking about trust?

“If you already know every detail of my life, why are you talking with me?”

“Oh, I knew it was going to bother you —anyway no, there’s just something that does not add up.” His eyes went again on that file, hands leafing through pages.

“Which is,” you said with a passive tone.

“Clodius South, head of the surgery department —or I should say, your umh— ex boyfriend?” He closed the folder and put it carelessly on the shelf behind him.

Your heart skipped a bit, “I’m done,” you stood up but he came closer to you.

“Answer just one question, I'm curious– why did he fire you? I mean, officially you transferred but I know it wasn’t voluntary,” he didn’t seem to give up, his look was pleading for answers, “so strange, you had been together for a year.”

“Why are you so interested in my sentimental life? You don’t have a chance with me, you know that right?” You laugh, feeling the tension in the air.

“There is no such risk, I’m not attracted to you,” his figure blocked you from walking away, “I just need your popularity, so I can fix it to something good.”

“You were the one kissing me in the car,” you bit your tongue, that kiss was something you didn’t want to bring up, it was better to forget about it. However, the other option was talking about your past, not something you were proud of.

“Oh please as if you didn’t want to,” he tilted his head, eyes locked on yours.

You laughed at his words, “you wish,” your back leaned against the desk.

“Then why did you kiss me back? I remember you didn’t let me breathe for a moment.”

“That was part of the show, Coriolanus Snow.”

“Now you use my full name? Last time I checked you called me differently,” he rested his arm on the desk you were lying on, making his height the same as yours.

You damned the only time it slipped from your lips calling him Coryo, a nickname you promised yourself to not say ever again.

“Why? Did it turn you on?”

His other hand was near your leg, slowly moving closer to your exposed skin.

“You can’t even imagine,” he swiftly looked down to your lips then back to your eyes.

The room did not feel cold anymore. Your breathing was getting slower, his parted lips warming your skin, his arm grazing your leg.

“So tell me, what happened with him?” Coriolanus insisted, but you had other plans in mind.

He was in power right now, he brought you here just to humiliate you with your deepest secrets. Weren't you just a miserable girl? It was your turn to make him feel miserable.

“You say you’re not attracted to me but you always find an excuse to touch me,” you whispered to his ear, his curls brushing your nose and his hand slightly brushing your leg.

This would have made him back off, telling you how stupid you are to think something like that, gaslighting you about the fact he never did such things like touching you.

“If it bothers you so much why you never push me away,” his hand traveled up to your leg, “go on, I’m waiting,” his fingers were now brushing your thigh and you felt his cold ring against your skin.

Fuck. That was not your plan.

You can always get back to it.

“I know your limits— I bet you barely touched a woman in your life,” you knew it was not true, you only said it as a provocation, to hurt his fragile ego as you planned.

I won.

”I don’t have limits, and we both know you would lose your bet,” his hand went under the hem of your skirt, making you shiver in surprise.

His index finger traced the outline of your panties, slightly playing with the waistband. Coriolanus didn’t break eye contact with you, his pupils were wide, you couldn’t see the blue that usually painted his iris, he was breathing slowly with parted lips, as if he wanted to control his heartbeat. And his hand felt so warm and familiar, so close to your core.

You knew that look, the one that he gave you when he let his guard down. The same look Coriolanus had when you came in his study a couple of days ago, his other side that he rarely showed to anyone.

His palm rested on your bare naked thigh.

“You don’t talk now?” His voice soothed your face, “tell me to stop and I will.”

That was the perfect occasion to slap that smug from his face, but you couldn’t even make up a coherent sentence. His voice was a gentle whisper cutting through the tension, but all you could manage was to stare at his eyes, trying to calculate his next move.

You knew what it was. It was a dangerous game you were playing, one that could shatter your plan. Did you have something to lose? You have already bent your morals, risked your life and crossed lines you never thought you would. Coriolanus would have been another crime to add to your list.

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

But what if I took just a bite? A taste of mortal sin.

“Why did you bring me here?” You managed to say trying to control your breathing.

“You once asked me why did I chose you,” Coriolanus whispered to your ear, “and I told you that it was for the presidential campaign,” his hand moved up again, “publicity, press and interviews— I only care about that,” his fingers were covering your clothed cunt.

You took a deep breath and swallowed, your back was still leaning against the desk edge, his other arm on your side. His words were not making things easier for you, not because you were listening to what he actually was saying, but because his tone of voice was something you could only hear in these moments. When he acted good, for the cameras, for the show. But there was no one in that room.

Coriolanus kept talking, “but my point is, why didn't you leave?” His index finger circled around your covered core, “I mean— I could list a few reasons why, considering also how wet you are right now,” he pulled your panties to the side, exposing your wetness. “But you always say you hate me, that you despise me, why are you here then? Are you so desperate?”

Your eyes were closed, your mind wandered prohibited thoughts while his hand was painfully too far away from what your body needed. What could you say to him? That he was right about being so desperate to pretend to be with him, so you could clean your image? That despite his selfish behavior he was tempting you into falling in his game?

Coriolanus brushed your soaked entrance with his fingertips as he massaged your clit with your own wetness. You shamefully spread your legs giving him more access to your folds, his digits that once touched your face were gently rubbing your needy center.

Your silent whimpers were enough as an answer for him to slide one finger inside you.

Your hand was now on his biecep, grabbing his arm so tightly or you could fall. There was something in you that was holding you back from punching him to his face. Was this the charm everyone talked about? Was this the version of him everyone adored?

“Given that you prefer remaining silent— I can tell you why,” his hand moved inside you, “you like the attention,” your cheek was against his, while your other hand rested on the nape of his neck.

Your reaction to his movements made him close his eyes in bliss, but you were too focused on not making sounds that you didn’t notice his expression. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that he was making you feel good.

“I bet you’ve barely been touched by a man,” Coriolanus echoed.

It’s just one bite of the apple.

You looked at him this time, and you wished you did it before. The blue in his eyes, his plump lips, the glistening on his forehead covered by his falling blonde curls. An angel.

No, no, he is the devil, not an angel.

“Wrong,” you breathed and his pace fastened, “actually they were better than you,” you whispered and his eyes widened.

“Lie number three,” he slid another finger, “I can tell when you’re pretending and when you’re not,” he brushed your clit with his thumb.

Oh.

You bucked your hips to make some friction, Coriolanus was painfully slow as if he was taking all the time in the world. He leaned his head to your left temple, where small reddish bruises were fading away from your skin, and he planted feather kisses on it. Coriolanus slowly traced a trail of wet kisses alongside your face. His soft lips were healing your bruises, his hand was igniting your core.

His fingers moved faster, pumping in and out your hole and slightly curled to hit exactly your sweet spot. Your little moans echoed in the room along with the sloppy sound of his hand never leaving your cunt. Coriolanus stroked your bundle of nerves once more, his lips sucked a spot behind your hear, slowly moving down your neck, marking your delicate skin with his warm kisses.

That was it. You were sure your high was coming in a matter of seconds, your mouth curved as pleasure began flowing through your body.

“But wasn’t I an uncaring, disrespectful —and what was that—oh, selfish and heartless man?” His hand stopped moving, “well I guess you were right,” his fingers were slowly pulling out your unfulfilled hole.

What was he doing?

“Did you really think you could do whatever you wanted? Having meetings without me, eating locked in your room, ignoring me for days— I have the control here.” Coriolanus looked down at you with a satisfied expression, believing that he finally asserted his dominance over you.

Your mind raced for a response, but before you could gather yourself, his words hung heavy in the air.

That was his revenge.

You thought you could teach him a lesson but he was a step ahead of you. Coriolanus humiliated you, exactly as he planned. His intent was to make you feel ashamed of your past but you gave him a better opportunity: he made you feel needy for him.

Self sabotaging.

“They are here,” he said in a calm tone, as if you were not almost buckling in that very moment.

Five seconds ago you were close to your orgasm and now you were feeling the emptiness growing inside you. You looked around confused, adjusting your body so now you were standing up, your weak knees begging for rest.

Who?

“They?” You stuttered as you watched him stepping back.

“Yes, I called them before,” he smirked, ”put your best smile for the cameras.”

Coriolanus acted like he did not just had his fingers inside you, but his body was telling another story, his bulge was visible from his pants and you noticed that as he swiftly covered his erection with his hand.

He walked towards the elevator where two peacekeepers were waiting for him. You fixed your skirt, probably too ruined and sticky to ever wear it again.

Fuck him.

You followed him, making sure to walk properly or he would’ve noticed how flustered you were. The thick doors closed, it was you, two peacekeepers and the blonde. You were sure he could smell your arousal, you still had traces of his saliva on your neck and a little bruise on your skin. A new one.

Coriolanus took a handkerchief from his pocket and he carefully cleaned his hand from your wetness, like he was cleaning his hands after a crime. Yours. The cloth wrapped around his fingers, as your walls clenched around him moments ago.

Then he caught you staring at his hand, “are you okay? You look flushed.”

You sick bastard.

Your cheeks were painted in a crimson color, of course he could see that, he was the cause of that. The same cause that made you cream your panties and shake your legs. If it wasn’t for the peacekeepers, you would have probably strangled him. But that was his lucky day.

He won.

After an infinite amount of time where your mind couldn’t stop picturing the sloppy sound from before, the elevator’s door parted. Coriolanus grabbed your shoulder as he was directed toward the exit. The silence in that room was now replaced by loud voices coming from the outside.

“Who did you call?” You tried pulling away from his grip but he kept you close.

“I told you, they haven’t seen us in a while.”

He opened the entrance and you heard someone shouting, “they are here!” A group of unknown faces were pointing microphones towards you, asking questions you didn’t bother to listen to.

You walked through the crowd side by side to him, his arm around your waist as you covered your face from the blinding flashes. The car was waiting for you in the exact spot it left you, Coriolanus let you enter in the car first as he followed by closing the door, blocking the loudness outside.

You sat on the back seat, heart racing outside your chest, forcing yourself to completely ignore his presence.

Coriolanus was again back in your thoughts as your wetness slid down your legs.

He is the forbidden fruit.

I am tempted by thee.

A/N: finally it’s out!! It has been so hard writing this chapter, I had so many ideas that I couldn’t mold them together into a coherent text lol. Anyway, as always tell me if there are grammatical mistakes because another difficulty was my limited vocabulary (a special thanks to wordreference.com or I wouldn’t be here today.) Every day I’m trying my best to improve my English so have mercy on me! Let me know if you want to be tagged next time!! 💌

Thank you so much for all the love and support!! Your comments mean a lot to me ❤️❤️ I love you all

ask me questions here 💌

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#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #coryo x reader #the hunger games #coryo smut #lucy gray baird #coriolanus smut #billy the kid x reader #young coriolanus snow #politician coriolanus snow

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raayllum · 21 days ago

Text

Arc 3 Predictions Electric Boogaloo

Because there's certain stuff that makes a Lot more sense now even as we're left with more questions, so let's talk about it.

Aaravos and the Cosmic Order / Claudia

So Aaravos wanted to take down the elves and dragons. Now the archdragons are all gone circa S7, which means he can hit the ground running upon his return in seven years. This means that the next target can fully be the Cosmic Council outright, and more recontextualization about how creating Eternal Night would make them suffer (though I don't think he'll repeat plans).

I could see him giving instructions / ideas to Claudia through dreams or visions, and she's armed with her amulet in the meantime and will maybe track down a replacement staff since she doesn't have one anymore. (Or she'll want to steal it back from Callum since it was a product of both her 'fathers'.) Other antagonists such as Finnegrin (maybe) and Kim'Dael (more definitely) will likely be interwoven.

That said, I think there'll be plenty of conflict already for our protagonists to deal with even before any of our old foes show up again.

Aanya + the Fire Ruby Project / Ezran & Zym

With the arrows temporarily able to dispose of Aaravos (even if I mandate he let himself get chained down in 7x07 in order to manipulate Ezran) and his imminent return, Ez and Aanya have an incentive to keep going with Project Ruby Fire. However, we also know thanks to interviews that Aanya has an adoptive brother, and from Tales of Xadia that:

The city is more fortified of late, as there are rumours of internal treason. The farmers worry that young Queen Aanya isn’t old enough or wise enough to protect what’s been built over the centuries.

So what I'm thinking is that adoptive brother Grark may pull a Karim and work on the project behind his sister's back or stage a coup. This could also put Ezran at odds with Zym, as Project Ruby Fire was designed specifically to be good at defeating dragons and to be so destructive that the mere threat of them would be enough (but, of course like the Mage Wars, someone's gonna use it). Having deeper, more politically / personally driven conflicts between Ezran and Zym (he had conflict with one brother, and now another) is also possible now that Zym can speak, and I think they'll take full advantage of it.

Ez and Zym together have always represented Hope the most (3x06), as Ezran found the egg, they're the two young princes turned kings, and are spearheading things forward.

So what happens if/when they start to crack? This could also provide a contrast to Janai and Amaya, as their new nieces/nephews through Miyana and Karim could provide a conflict. Even though the kids themselves will be too young and Miyana convinced to walk a different path, that doesn't mean they won't be used or treated as symbols by somebody else to sow more conflict.

Evrkynd and Elarion

The choice to establish a new city to show the growing unity between elves and dragons makes sense, but it made me wonder why do it now and not as an end-of-arc 3 idea. Then I considered that perhaps it's to set up Everkynd as an Elarion parallel: a glistening, shining city, where after it fell the land was divided and more chaos ensued.

Only Evrkynd will emerge and stand the test of time, of course, with the connection between the two halves being maintained and strengthened. But still, a thought I'll probably have something more eloquent for later.

Callum, Corruption, and the Cube (+ Rayla)

Was thinking over 6x06's "the darkness and corruption will overwhelm you" in addition to the choice in S6 to establish that Callum's father died of a chronic illness / the consistent comparison to dark magic as a plague/infection/sickness (2x08, 5x01, 5x03, 5x04, 5x09, etc). The options I'd considered for how the corruption would manifest post usage usually fell into two camps: instantaneous and complete, or gradual and ongoing. I'd thought the second one would be interesting for a mid-season dark magic use, speculating it'd be like the shadowmonsters in taking a few days or longer for something to take.

I certainly didn't think it'd be a process over Years, but given the seven year timeskip...

I'm picturing something like Callum still taking mushroom salves or potions regularly from Muhko (hence that inclusion for Zubeia) to stave off corruption overwhelm, and giving him parallels to Damian. This would also potentially enhance the feeling of "living on borrowed time" he and everyone, but him and Rayla in particular, are bound to feel as they know they have Limited Time before Aaravos comes back.

I'm also curious as to how openly or how much Callum will be studying dark magic, even in comparison to before ("Well, I've read a lot about it"). He has Viren-Claudia's relic staff, and the corrupted sun stone within it, so there could be interesting ideas or experiments there. The fact that Callum has the Staff and the Cube and the white streak does not bode well for him.

An additional assumption is that Callum will go to Elarion offscreen (cause that is a Long skip) but be unable to find what he's unknowingly looking for (the primal magic book?). I also don't think at this point I have to go into much more detail about CHET given that we've been here with the theory for 4 years, and pieces of evidence at the time that felt like a stretch are now being incorporated, such as:

The Cube pointing to Elarion, which was incredibly important to ancient humanity and Aaravos

Elarion poem is associated with nature (flowers of elarion) and dark-light motif

Rayla is Callum's light in the darkness and his destructive path. She was prepared to destroy him (7x09) and will likely save him in the future.

The flowers of Elarion were involved in a story where they were seen as gifts / "fair exchanges of beloved for beloved". Then Rayla, by Aaravos' own word, was described as Callum's "beloved" (7x09).

The entire conversation with Dark!Callum and the cube in the woods in 7x06 but especially "If you love her, you'll be the you that can save her" and "I have always been a part of you."

Basically: it's not over till the cube is plot relevant and all the foreshadowing / lines of dialogue surrounding it have come full circle in some manner. In Arc 3 we trust.

Misc Predictions / Ideas

that didn't belong anywhere else!

Given that we know Aanya has her older brother and Prince Kasef has a younger sibling, I think it'd be interesting if they teamed up to try and stage mutual coups or something.

Since the archdragons are gone, I'm curious what project ruby fire would be used against. Maybe just other dragons? Or invoking stuff from the past mage wars.

More info on the relic staffs and self-eating I think for sure can be expected, as well as what happened to make Kpp'Ar completely change his mind.

I'm expecting S8 to be catch up and set up much the way that S1 and S4 were.

There are river pirates between Duren and Neolandia (Tales of Xadia) so I could see Finnegrin being woven back in there, although I'd love to go back to Scumport and see any changes Elmer has made.

Kim'Dael feels like a 2 season antagonist to me, in order to reintroduce her (maybe Aaravos inverting the Moon Nexus set her free) and then to draw on her history with the Moon Fam (Bloodmoon Huntress graphic novel).

A lot more lore on the Startouch elves / I'm fairly certain Shiruakh was a star devourer dragon

Aaravos making the Cosmic Council mortal, etc etc.

Sol Regem lore and backstory

#tdp spoilers #tdp #the dragon prince #predictions #arc 3 #s7 spoilers #analysis series #analysis #brotp: the once and future kings #queen aanya #rayllum #tdp theory #post season seven

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in1-nutshell · 11 months ago

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Oh goodness! The Megatron’s daughter post has plagued my brain with so many sad ideas! Can you picture how she handles the situation when Megatron got injured after the space bridge explosion? The amount of complicated feelings swirling around seeing him hurt on the medical table like that? And you just know that Starscream is going to take advantage of it in some way: would he use it as a way to bypass Buddy’s authority on the grounds that she is “in no state of mind to lead”? Does he use her grief to manipulate her and influence her actions?

And none of this is even getting into what would happen if she ran into Optimus and the Autobots! Would she resent him based on what she had been told for millions of years? Would he feel guilty for how things have gone for her? So many thoughts and I love the angst

Okay lets do this!

I actually have another request that is similar to this one, so I am dividing the writing into two. This part is centered more around yours, but there are things that are left out for the sake of getting to the other one and completing the story.

If you really love the angst, this one is definitely for you.

Buddy needs a hug after all this is over.

There will be tears

Hope you enjoy!

Megatron's daughter with the opposite personality: Soundwave's Plan

SFW, ANGST, You have been warned!, Mention of wounds and violence, nothing too gory, familial (Soundwave is best uncle), Cybertronian reader

TFP

Soundwave had enough.

His niece’s life was in danger, and he knew well enough that her father wasn’t going to do anything about it.

Megatron’s mission main priority was Prime, not Buddy.

Soundwave could live with that; he swore his loyalty to Megatron after all.

But he also swore to be Buddy’s uncle and default caretaker after… that day…

Soundwave coming to Buddy’s quarters with an energon cube in his servo.

Buddy sleeping on the makeshift desk, face plate on a data pad.

Soundwave placed the cube down and carries Buddy to her berth.

He places the cube by her desk and leaves.

When Megatron did not come back to the Nemesis after the spacebridge and Starscream came back alone, they both knew something happened to the War Lord.

He was surprised to see Buddy try and stay together as she assumed her position as Leader of the Decepticon Army once again.

This face was for the sake of the troops.

Not hers.

It was never about her and her needs.

Soundwave had seen through the cameras, Buddy grieved in silence, she made it her mission to never let anyone of the troops see her in that state, something he hated to see.

It didn’t help much when Starscream started enforcing more of his ideas, taking advantage of Buddy’s state.

Starscream and Buddy in the throne room.

“Starscream are you suggesting that we simply abandon the mining operation just like that?”--Buddy

“Of course, My Lady. It no longer serves us purpose and the mine has been stripped dry. We need to move to the next deposit before the Autobots do.”--Starscream

“And I agree that we need to go to the next one, but you’re suggesting we destroy the mine now. We still have our own down there with our machinery. We cannot leave them. We will not leave them.”--Buddy

“They are expendable—”--Starscream

“Those soldiers are not expendable!”--Buddy

“…You poor thing.”--Starscream

“Excuse me?”—Buddy

Starscream walking slowly towards Buddy, circling her.

“Still thinking we can save everyone don’t we?”--Starscream

“Starscream—”--Buddy

“We can not save everyone Lady Buddy. You know that firsthand don’t you?”--Starscream

“…”—Buddy

Buddy hanging her helm a bit low, avoiding Starscream’s hot glare.

“You let your grief blind your decision making. The Decepticons cannot have such… an impaired leader.”--Starscream

“What are you hinting at Starscream?”--Buddy

“Well, we need a leader with a clear conscious, not one who is barely holding everything together.”—Starscream

Buddy looks up glaring at the Second in Command.

“That’s enough.”--Buddy

“We need a ruthless leader—”—Starscream

Buddy’s servos clench tightly.

“I said enough.”--Buddy

“We need a ruthless Decepticon who can make tough calls, not some useless weakling! What would Megatron—”--Starscream

“ENOUGH!”—Buddy

Silence fills the room.

Buddy servos firmly clenched staring angrily at the Second in Command, who has a smug look on his face.

Buddy vents deeply looking down.

“…We will go to the spot you suggested Starscream, as soon as everyone is back on the Nemesis. No casualties unless necessary.”--Buddy

“BAH! And you call yourself Megatron’s offspring. What a pitiful creature.”--Starscream

Starscream walks out of the throne room leaving Buddy there alone, looking at the floor with tears filling up her optics.

The comments about her not being mentally fit for the role of leader were passed around the Nemesis like energon rations.

Soundwave knew about it.

Everyone knew about it.

But barely anyone said anything about it, as most chose to stay loyal to Buddy.

Not out of fear for Megatron potentially returning, but because they liked Buddy.

She made sure everyone who went on the scouting missions were accounted for and that they were fed.

She cared for them.

Buddy in the med bay with Knockout and breakdown with some wounded Vechicons.

“What’s the report Knockout?”--Buddy

“Nothing too bad. It looks worse than what it is.”--Knockout

Buddy holding the servo of the Vechicon Knockout was working with.

“Really?”--Buddy

The Vechicon squeezed her servo a bit.

“True. I’ll be out of here soon enough!”--Steve

Buddy squeezes a bit before letting go.

“Don’t go back to the heavy work immediately, work with smaller lighter things before going back.”--Buddy

“I’m the doctor here Buddy.”--Knockout

“And I’m unofficially a nurse. Am I wrong doctor?”--Buddy

“…”--Knockout

“She’s got you there Knockout.”--Breakdown

“Shut it!”--Knockout

When Megatron came back to the Nemesis alive, it was the first time in a while that he had seen Buddy light up with joy.

Her father was alive.

Megatron walking into the main room with Starscream by his side.

The room is filled with most of the Decepticons welcoming their leader back.

Buddy starts running towards her father.

“Megatron! Megatron you’re back!”--Buddy

Buddy picking up her pace a bit with open arms ready to hug him.

“I mis—”--Buddy

SLAM!

Buddy’s limp body is now on the other side of the room.

A slash is across her chassis, not too deep, but a good amount of energon was drawn.

Megatron’s saber glinting with Buddy’s energon.

Everyone is frozen in place not quite understanding what just happened.

He spares one glance.

“Pitiful. Everyone! Back to work!”--Megatron

He leaves the room with Starscream hot on his heels.

As soon as they both leave Soundwave and Knockout are by Buddy’s side as Breakdown and Steve try to keep the other worried Vechicons at bay.

“We need to get her to the med bay. It looks bad. Breakdown--”—Knockout

“Got it.”--Breakdown

Breakdown gently picks up Buddy as some of the crowd goes to follow Buddy while the others linger before going back to their own business.

Soundwave stands still in the place where Buddy went limp.

Snap!

Megatron hit her without cause.

This was not training.

This was done with malicious intent.

He would honestly understand it more if Buddy was a Starscream, the punishment would have been seen as fair.

But Buddy was not Starscream.

She was by far one of the most loyal Decepticons there had ever been.

Yet he discarded her like trash.

Soundwave had enough.

Megatron was going to offline his own daughter if he didn’t do anything about it.

Thus, The Plan was created.

He knew this was extremely risky and relied heavily on luck, but he gambled with worse odds. This was something he was willing to work with

It killed Soundwave to see Buddy losing more and more of herself as the training sessions became longer and the wounds were becoming more and more severe.

Breakdown and Knockout walking by the storage sectors and training hall.

BANG!

“AGAIN!”—Megatron

Knockout and Breakdown hiding near a corner outside the training room.

“Please, I can’t—”--Buddy

SLAM!

“AGAIN!”--Megatron

“Megatron—”--Buddy

BAM!

Knockout flinches a bit.

Breakdown puts a servo on Knockout’s shoulder while the other one was clenched.

“AGAIN!”--Megatron

“MEGATRON, PLEASE!”--Buddy

BANG!

Knockout grabs one of Breakdown’s servo tightly hearing the loud sound.

Breakdown squeezes his optics shut as if he were in pain.

“AGAIN!”--Megatron

“FATHER, PLEASE!”--Buddy

SLAM!

“AGAIN ORION!”—Megatron

“I AM NOT ORION!—“Buddy

SLICE!

Silence.

“…oh Primus… you don’t think…”--Breakdown

SLAM!

Megatron exits the training room angry.

No Buddy to be seen.

Soundwave comes out of nowhere sprinting to the training room.

Knockout and Breakdown follow.

Soundwave on his knees holding an extremely injured Buddy.

“Help—Buddy!”--Soundwave

Buddy needed to leave the Nemesis.

And Optimus Prime was his last hope.

He was her last hope.

Now time to wait for the next part!

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #tfp #tfp x reader #tfp soundwave #tfp soundwave x platonic reader #tfp megatron #tfp knockout #tfp breakdown #tfp steve

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brucewaynehater101 · 9 months ago

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Hemlo! Here are some sparkles and hearts for all the delicious posts and answers!! ✨️💕❤️💖✨️✨️✨️💕❤️💖✨️✨️💕❤️💖✨️✨️💕❤️💖✨️✨️💕❤️💖✨️✨️💕❤️💖✨️✨️💕❤️💖✨️✨️💕❤️💖✨️ ✨️

I also have ✨️Questions✨️! In Tim being Bruce's Father Figure AU/headcanon, how do you think Tim's 16th birthday will play out? Will Bruce even plan it? And if he does, will this AU's Alfred go with it? How differently do you think Tim will go about tackling Bruce's lesson on paranoia? And how do you think he'll discipline Bruce after all is said and done? (I am sorry for the many questions 😅😅😅)

The sparkles are really cute. Also, don't know if it was on purpose, but urban dictionary says "hemlo" is how dog's pov says hi???

(Also, I love questions and asks so much. I sometimes take a bit to respond [cause I work nights, so my sleep schedule is whenever I can when I don't work], but I genuinely love all of them).

As far as Tim's 16th birthday, fuck. Alright. I guess this AU/hc can get some more angst. It's been too light and funny lately. Why not?

Okay.

~~~

Tim stares at the object that started it all. It's perched innocently on his desk, but the teen wants nothing more than to shatter it into dusty remains.

Bruce, his son that he willing took responsibility of, his son of three years, thought it was fit to cause Tim to have a mental breakdown. Bruce isn't aware of the true nature of their relationship. Bruce thought it was fit to cause rampant paranoia in a child.

Where had Tim gone wrong?

He thought Bruce was getting better.

Were the sticker charts, the car rides for sleep, the persistent checking for injuries, and the forced self care the wrong moves? Was Tim too harsh? Too soft? Where had Tim failed his son so that he thought this was an acceptable and appropriate set of actions? Why did Bruce do this to him?

He doesn't know.

And Alfred. He thought the two of them were on the same page when it came to parenting Bruce. Were the many discussions over tea, the late night baking, the aid around the house, and the chats during gardening for naught? They were supposed to rely on one another, inform the other when Bruce was going too far, and stop the man. Tim had so many fucking conversations with Alfred on permissive parenting and being a bystander. He thought they were in agreeance.

Not only did Alfred fall back to old and wrongful ways, but he was now an active participation in Bruce's emotional abuse and manipulation. Can Tim even trust Alfred to protect Bruce's kids from Bruce? Was Tim just special?

He doesn't know if it is worse for Alfred to target Tim specifically or for the older man to allow such actions against all of Bruce's children. Both thoughts are unbearable.

The man had the audacity to joke about Tim being of age after this clusterfuck, as if Tim hadn't been an adult in a child's body parenting an adult nearly three times his age. As if Tim hadn't aged a decade in the last three years. As if Tim hadn't done enough.

Gods, Tim is tired. He doesn't think reddit can help him out of this either.

Tim brushes a finger against the offending object as his face screws up in overwhelming grief, frustration, and betrayal. The smooth edges of the cube are cold, and his face feels hot.

He won't cry.

Bruce is a bastard, a man-child who criticized Tim for believing in time travel (as if they both hadn't seen it happen before).

It's infuriating and heartbreaking, but it's not the end. Tim can still fix this. He'll be more vigilant this time as he screws the errant pieces of Bruce's morality and judgment back together. He'll study more parenting books, attend more psychology online courses, and find a therapist he can ask parenting questions to anonymously. There's still more Tim can do.

He can still save his son from himself.

There's still time.

Tim pockets the reminder of his failures towards his son as he goes to Bruce.

He won't ask Bruce to apologize.

He can't.

It's Tim's fault, after all.

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #bruce wayne #tim is an unreliable narrator in this and it is not his fault #fuck bruce for that birthday incident #thank you for the ask!!!!#tim is a child-man parenting a man-child #dc au #tim acting like bruce's parent

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abyssalzones · 5 months ago

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[1/3] Hello! My apologies, I'm not sure how the best way to approach this is, so I hope you'll bear with me. I have been struggling with some thoughts surrounding Ford and Fiddleford that I haven't really been sure how to parse, and I am genuinely interested in your opinion. I mean this in good faith, an open mind to learn, and from the perspective of someone who really enjoys your depictions of these two characters. Especially in your review/analysis of the Book of Bill, I really agree with the way you describe Fiddleford's significance to Ford and how their relationship with each other is.

I'm going to keep this fairly short and simple because my feelings on it are honestly not that complex, but I do really appreciate you coming to me with an open mind and explaining your own perspective. The truth is that I really don't think anything Bill did to Ford is equivalent to what Ford did to Fiddleford- which is not to say we're setting a standard for abuse at "the most extreme shit ever", but more that... I just don't see any evidence for it, whether that's textually or thematically.

Don't get me wrong- Ford definitely treated Fiddleford unfairly at certain points in the story. It's a major part of why their reunion feels all the more satisfying... but I think that has less to do with Ford not respecting Fiddleford and can be attributed largely to Bill's manipulation driving a wedge between them both. Ford and Fiddleford are, objectively speaking, equal partners: they were roommates in college, Fiddleford drove up to Oregon and stayed of his own accord to help Ford with what would become their portal project, and when shit gets to be too much, Fiddleford leaves. It's clear that even outside of a romantic interpretation they make for very good friends, something that to me is clearly not just a boss-employee relationship.

So the biggest faults in how Ford treats Fiddleford boil down to two things: a lack of trust ingrained from childhood bullying, and the evilest motherfucker in the world sitting on his shoulder and whispering lies into his ear. When Ford gives Fiddleford a stack of equations to work on, he's working himself to death just as hard if not harder. When he mixes up his Cubic's cube, he's playfully messing with him and potentially not understanding that it really is bothering him (if it is.) And later, when things start to truly unravel, Ford's rash behavior (leaving him at the diner, yelling WELL FINE I DON'T NEED YOU I DON'T NEED ANYONE >:(, etc) it's Bill's influence well and truly consuming him and successfully isolating him from someone he had a once-healthy relationship with. hell, even in the journal's small segment about the "a better world" dimension, Fiddleford and Ford eventually make up and become business partners after the success of their portal project, regardless of everything that happened between them- with a way shorter timeframe between those things than in canon.

Idk I just think that while it's true Ford has flaws I think that's true of... any other character on earth? and I just personally can't see a reading of their dynamic that's abusive being true. and that's not only for textual, canonical reasons but a matter of framing between Bill & Ford vs Fidds & Ford. I think "well abused people are capable of abuse too!" is a fair point to make but in this context seems superfluous and really committed to this idea that Ford is just as bad of a person as Bill, or something, that often happens with abuse victims in or out of fiction.

but that's just me

#lab notes #lab discussion #askbox #alright that's all the big important writing you guys are getting out of me today

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mousy-nona · 10 months ago

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Headcanon that Lucifer and Alastor have two different date nights each week, one is for them to have alone time, while the other is a family date night.

“Uno!”

“No, Dad, you still have two cards!”

“Oh.” Lucifer dropped a +4 onto the pile. “Now uno!”

“Hey, Big Daddy, it ain’t your turn anymore. It’s Tall, Dark, and Creepy’s turn to go.” Angel Dust peered at Alastor who, despite his trademark smile, looked like he was in physical pain. His left eye was twitching rather alarmingly. “You hangin’ in there?”

“Yes, fine,” Alastor snapped. “I’m simply at a loss at how such a simple game can defeat Lucifer’s intellect. You would think he would have learned something after a few million years.”

“Hey!” Lucifer threw the cards in his hand at Alastor – which, being a grand total of one, wasn’t very impressive. The sad little +4 gently tapped him on the nose before fluttering to the ground.

Alastor sighed, very loudly. “Great. Why do we bother with this again?”

“Because it’s game night!”

Lucifer was referring, of course, to the weekly tradition that had started because Lucifer had insisted if you date me, you date my daughter too, and Alastor had shuddered and agreed just so he wouldn’t have to hear him say that atrocious sentence, ever again. Then Charlie had insisted on bringing Vaggie along, because she was her partner, and therefore family.

Then Angel Dust had overheard there was a weekly game night going on, and dragged Husk into coming along. Niffty was the only one that Alastor had personally invited, although none of them knew that (it was their little secret).

“Can we have just one game night where we actually finish a game?” Vaggie complained. “I actually have a good hand this time!”

“I don’t know why y’all put yourselves through this,” Husk called out from the bar. Ice cubes clinked as he poured himself another stiff one. “They’re going to start trying to kill each other in five minutes.”

“We will not,” Lucifer sniffed as he collected his card and sat back down. “And we do not try and kill each other every time.”

Angel Dust started ticking off incidents on his fingers. “Let’s see. We never got to finish that game of Monopoly, Clue, Yahtzee, Catan –”

“Family Feud,” Vaggie added, staring hard at Alastor. He sniffed and looked away.

“You cannot ask a gentleman from my time to guess what you barbarians from the 21st century think about things. That was a poor choice of game.”

“Scrabble, Secret Hitler–”

“Alastor was cheating that time!” Lucifer burst out.

“I was not,” Alastor said smugly. The rest of them shuddered at the memory. Alastor had been surprisingly good at Secret Hitler – so good, in fact, that it and any other political manipulation games like it had been banned from the halls of Hazbin Hotel.

“Apples to Apples, Sorry!, Hive Pocket–”

“That one was Niffty!” Charlie broke in, desperately trying to keep the peace. “She stabbed the game board, remember?”

Niffty started vibrating and jabbing at things. “Bugs!”

Angel Dust sighed. “My point still stands, toots. These two are physically incapable of ending a single game without flirt-fighting in the middle of it.”

Alastor snarled. Lucifer turned red. And everyone else nodded.

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

What none of the others knew was that Lucifer and Alastor had another weekly tradition. A secret they kept hidden from the others.

Every Sunday, after Alastor had finished his script for the next day and Lucifer had put the finishing touches on his latest invention, Lucifer summoned a golden portal and whisked them off to the far reaches of Hell.

It was a different wonder every time. A hill near the Greed Ring, the toxic plumes of smoke creating a beautiful emerald mist over the dilapidated city. The very top of the skyscraper that towered over the Lust Ring. A relaxing dip in one of the lava pools of the Wrath Ring, which made Alastor hum and stretch like a cat as the boiling liquid lapped at the scar on his chest.

One day, Lucifer took them to a bustling street packed with street vendors and shops selling the exact same merch. The smell of caramel and popcorn and cotton candy was heavy in the air. He looked uncharacteristically nervous, his face paler than usual, and his hands were constantly picking at his hat, his coat, his staff.

Alastor peered at him. “Whatever is the matter with you?”

“I have something to show you.”

Lucifer led them deeper into the colorful, fantastic clutches of Lu Lu World. Past gaggles of hellborn children and their exhausted parents, past lines for rides that looped at least ten times before disappearing into the buildings proper, past storybook houses and little animatronic villagers.

“Business must be doing well,” Alastor noted.

“Terrific. Our newest ride is a hit.”

“Newest…?”

Lucifer stopped abruptly, staring at something above them. He was sweating slightly, his feet shifting this way and that. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said, in a tiny voice. “I got, well, inspired.”

Alastor looked up, and his eyes widened. Towering above them was…him. A flawless version of him. The demon grinning at the top of the ride was perfect in every way, his smile hiding a million secrets that both enthralled and frustrated the viewer. Enthralling. Alluring. The shadow coat he was wearing created a natural barrier between him and the audience, but his outstretched hand seemed to beckon you closer, to touch what was forbidden.

Can you defeat the enigma? Was the tagline stamped at the bottom of the board.

“It’s an escape game,” Lucifer said hurriedly. “I thought of it during one of our dates, and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. You don’t mind, do you? I was so nervous about it, but I thought I’d –”

“He’s a bit perfect, don’t you think?” Alastor said, his voice gruff.

Lucifer squinted at the display. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, sounding honestly confused. “It looks just like you.”

Alastor groaned, unsure how to handle the unfamiliar, powerful feelings batting at his too-small heart. This is how he sees me?

“You don’t like it,” Lucifer babbled. “I’m sorry, I’ll take it down–”

“No, it’s fine.” Alastor said. “It’s…good.”

“Really?” Lucifer relaxed, all the tension leaving his tight shoulders.

“Really.”

They stood there a while, simply breathing in each other's company as the muse and the artist stared at the work they had created together.

Finally, Alastor spoke. "May I suggest a game for our next game night?"

"You? Have a suggestion?" Lucifer nodded warily. "Go ahead."

"Secret Hitler."

"No!"

#hazbin hotel #radioapple #alastor #duckiedeer #hazbin hotel lucifer #alastor x lucifer #hazbin hotel alastor #prompts #secret hitler actually is pretty fun #highly recommend

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skepticdoe · 19 days ago

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You’ll never guess who’s back, ANYHOW

Okay I am totally 100% hearing you out on trapeze artist kenny, so now I graciously request your role assignments of sp characters in a circus au 🙏🙏

HIII always grateful to see your asks!!

okay so I had to search up circus rolls so I’m going off of this one reddit post I found

this post may be a bit long (when isn’t it lmaoo)

Ringmaster: Cartman. -> he would immediately assign himself this position but he would mysteriously get a lot of funding so no one has the guts to overthrow him. Is your stereotypical neglectful ringleader who acts like a tyrant. I’ve also decided to add Wendy as his co-ringmaster or assistant because she’d be the one keeping him in check and managing basically everything while Cartman manages finance. He hates working alongside her but she’s a key worker for his circus and she’s GOOD at her job so he can’t really do anything. Always rips on her though.

Strongman: okay. LISTEN. I’m going to put Gregory here. He’s a blond British political man. His hair also looks like a stereotypical Ken doll. He’d be the generic strong blond who bends iron bars and the crowd goes wild.

Contortionist: Tweek seems like the type to freak other kids out with his hyper mobility and the ability to bend his fingers all the way back. He’d make a mean contortionist except for when he’s having a bad day and can’t fathom the thought of being stuck in a small cube

Ariel Artist/trapeze artist: as mentioned before, Kenny is THE perfect fit for this. He’s got a knack for shooting himself out of canons and walking precariously on thin rope. I just feel like he’d be a really loose limbed guy. All his fears disappeared years ago, his deaths making him reckless.

Acrobats: I feel like the girls (Heidi, Bebe and Red) would be the acrobats. They would have colour coordinated fits and would already have a history of gymnastics. Bebe would also be on silks.

Fire Performer/knife throwing: Kyle immediately came to mind because I feel like he’d have a stick up his ass about safety and then the dude goes on to shove swords of fire down his throat. Also red hair equals fire OBVIOUSLY 🙄

Manipulator (aka the juggler, plate spinner, hat tricks): Butters because can you imagine him on a tricycle juggling with balls and clown face paint? Because I certainly can and Cartman gets a lot of amusement out of it (sorry butters)

Fortune Teller: Henrietta. No further notes.

Animal tamer: Good ol’ animal lover enthusiast Stan. He’d be dangerously protective over his animals and would shoot down any of Cartmans performance plans that would put the animals at risk.

Stilts: Craig. No reason why just, Craig.

Musician: Jimmy. Cartman attempted to make Jimmy a ‘freak’ for the circus but his music is just that good

Magician: Clyde would be those dorky magicians who’s embarrassed himself several times before but he’s getting better. The crowd always thinks his fails are a part of the act so it works

Horses/Extreme Dressage: Tolkein would still manage to stay elegant while working in a circus. He’s just like that. He also LOVES his horse.

If this is a stendy au, Stan would be jealous and HATE Gregory’s flirting with Wendy because he knows that Gregory knows how attractive he himself is and being a strongman and all and Stan is stuck being a vegan animal trainer :,)

Knowing Cartman he probably has a ‘freaks’ section but I honestly don’t even want to go into that because we all know it’s full of minorities 😓

This is honestly really messy and really bad because I just discovered several of these circus roles in the last five minutes. I tried to match the characters to their job as best as I could but honestly I can’t say I’m super satisfied (not the worst I still like a few roles) 💔

anyways thanks for reading this far and I super duper appreciate this ask and don’t hesitate to send through any more!!

let me know your thoughts

#south park #south park headcanons #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #kenny mccormick #eric cartman #circus au #a bunch of the character I cannot be assed to tag #south park au

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hermitw · 5 months ago

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I'm going to be as vague as possible here, with only implied csa, heavier content warning for all the linked posts.

A while ago I was thinking about how Mai and Sukuna seemed quite similar. Secretly very hurt people who put on this edgelord show and pretend not to care or feel.

Since reading these posts about Mai, it got me thinking even more like. The triggers that caused sukuna and Mai to act in ways that made them unloveable characters.

Like when Nobara said "trouble sleeping? You've got open pores", I think that hit a nerve because Mai probably had insomnia and recurring nightmares. Her family would have scapegoated the victim (which is really common irl - somehow it's more shameful to acknowledge a predator in the family than it is to defend them).

And Sukuna with Mimiko - that always drove me insane. It made me resent sukuna for a long time, but gradually I grew this fixation to understand him. Anyway, I'd said before that it was feeling manipulated and told what to do that triggered Sukuna - but I don't think that's it.

Mimiko was terrified of him. They both were. But God, when else have we seen someone's head explode like that? Haruta got one slice. Nanako got cubed. Even the fingie curse that was afraid of Sukuna and attacked him instead of joining forces - that thing got five slices (and he intended for three).

Whatever reactions people had to Sukuna when he lived as a human (and in his current life), whether he was deified or demonized or enslaved, he was seen as a threat to restrain, he was an object of fear. I think the twins' fear of Sukuna hit a nerve.

The fingie curse wasn't trying to use Sukuna - it directly attacked him. But to be feared and told what to do, I think that mix really hit some unresolved trauma.

Edit to add:

another idea I forgot to include is that Sukuna would have known the twins were asking sukuna to kill kenjaku. I think part of him really, really wants to, but due to a pact or something he can't, and that also made him feel helpless. (tbh I don't totally understand this - kenjaku seems to have a covercive relationship with the reincarnated sorcerers. Not only are they taking over someone else's body without being invited to - but they seem rly uncomfortable with him. And it's like they try to get past that... But at the end of the Shibuya arc, Kenjaku said that the pacts he made w those sorcerers were voided when he changed bodies. I assume that, even someone who makes pacts often (like Sukuna) doesn't know that they become nullified when kenjaku changes bodies (how could they know? No one else does that). Or maybe they are only canceled on Kenjaku's end, but the other sorcerers might still face consequences (which I find less believable, as their old bodies are also gone, though maybe eating themselves was also a way to retain that bond).

If you want a deeper read w even more context (especially on sukuna), here's a link. (this post got me thinking so much, half of my drafts are in reaction to it probably)

#Mai Zenin #Sukuna #nanako hasaba #mimiko hasaba #Jujutsu kaisen #Shibuya incident #sukuna analysis

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fruitytrollroll · 1 year ago

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scratching the walls, running laps, I actually barked out of excitement. ( RUFF, BARK, BARK, RUFF, RUFF, GRRR, GIMME MORE )

Okay okay, one more but that's it, I don't want to spoil anyone's appetite. 😏

u get a pickle cellar excerpt

🥒🪲✨

Prismo leads Scarab to a dim, greenlit cellar, where the air is cool and pleasantly damp. Enormous barrels line the walls, above which are equidistant embedded shelves, packed with orderly lines of gleaming, sealed jars. The faint scent of brine drifts on the air, like Prismo has brought him to a brackish tide cave.

When Scarab had begun his inspection in earnest, he had observed the trash and sundry littered about the Time Room with disdain, and had automatically sneered when he began to imagine how the rest of the Cube might look. But he hadn't expected this.

"Haven't been down here in a while," Prismo idly volunteers, which may go a ways to explaining that discrepancy.

"Is that why it's so much cleaner?" Scarab dryly inquires. He sees no reason to hide his censure.

Prismo smiles sheepishly. "I was about to clean right before you showed up! That's why I closed the doors. Wouldn't wanna sweep any 'shorts' into the bin by accident." He laughs unconvincingly.

The reminder of Prismo's strange verbal slip earlier only serves to convince Scarab of the necessity of this inspection.

"Go on, then," Scarab invites with a gesture of eloquence. "Regale me with your process."

For the first time since Scarab arrived, Prismo actually looks somewhat enthused--though it's a far cry from his usual energy. He must be incredibly hungover.

"Okay, so the cool thing about pickling is that it's totally shelf-stable..."

"... And the longer you wait to eat them, the better they taste!"

Scarab hums, lifting one of the jars and examining it under the acidic lights. "I was under the impression that time didn't move forward, as such, in the Time Room."

"Right?" Prismo gushes. "Just a little trick I figured out."

"Do tell," Scarab says, interested despite himself. As frivolous a pastime as this is for the guardian of the entire multiverse's continuity and continued stability, Scarab is aware that sometimes turning one's powers to unexpected purpose can yield discoveries which lend one greater control of over those powers, and greater flexibility in their use. Perhaps that is the appeal of having a hobby, he muses.

And if he is to one day be Wishmaster, then hearing Prismo opine on the nature of his powers will ensure Scarab is adequately prepared to do the job more justice than Prismo ever did.

"As Wishmaster," Prismo ostentatiously begins, "I basically have control over every dimension in the Time Room. Like, I may just be a two-dimensional being, but I can still move the walls, and any inanimate three-dimensional objects in this space."

Or me, Scarab thinks with a thread of unease--though fortunately Prismo can only hold him, not move him.

... As far as he knows.

"Making time pass in the Time Room is as easy as moving a wall, once you figure out how to manipulate the fourth dimension!"

"It's that simple, is it?"

"Well," Prismo says modestly. "It took me a while to get the hang of it. But hey! Who can argue with these results?" He gestures proudly at his crop of jars. "You wanna try some? You seem like a 'hot and spicy' kinda guy to me."

"Hm," says Scarab. Against his better judgment, he's considering it.

Then Prismo heaves a sigh, rather disproportionate to Scarab's answer, in his opinion. The god-auditor turns to look at the Wishmaster askance, and finds him staring at the floor, looking positively downtrodden. Surely he's not that invested in Scarab trying out his pickles?

Scarab almost opens his mouth to ask what in the world is the matter with the Wishmaster, but before he can, Prismo mutters dejectedly, "That's the last time I make an unauthorized universe."

Scarab goes very still.

"... An unauthorized universe?" he softly says.

Prismo's eye widens, and he looks guiltily at his god-auditor guest.

"Ah... crap."

#prohibitedwish #scarab the god auditor #prismo the wishmaster #my fic #this didn't post when i meant it to and that's probably my fault but let's all blame tumblr 🙌

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ramjam-jamming · 11 months ago

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With the... Negativity surrounding the trailer for the new megamind movie/show, my brain's wires started wiring and, welp, here's my idea for a Megamind show: Megamind has to learn how to be a proper hero, and Metroman/Musicman (who is still retired) acts like a mentor, from the sidelines.

Here's a dive into how the villains (evil bernard evil bernard) and characters would work ⬇️

Megamind

He still has the attitude and mannerisms of a villain, as he retains his old personality, but is learning the values of being a super hero. He evil-laughs when winning and such, and also is rather awkward around the citizens of metrocity, but is trying his best. He's still trying to win over their trust.

Metroman

By the end of the movie, I'm pretty sure everyone still believes Megamind killed him, which would definitely hinder Megamind's ability to gain their trust. The general public still thinks Metroman's dead, but there are multiple rumours and conspiracy theories of him still being alive, as he still goes out and could be occasionally spotted.

Villains

Bernard, who is a megamind expert, becomes an antagonist. He has a collection of Megamind's old thrown away machines, plus merchandise. He believes that megamind has lost himself and is "boring" now. As such, he uses the holo-watch (found in Megamind's trash) to steal his appearance and cause Havoc, turning the public against him and "bringing back" the villain he's an """expert""" on. Of course, this plan fails, but he becomes a recurring villain whose objective is to return megamind to his old self. This is either through recreating him (holograms, robots, etc) or straight up trying to manipulate him into going back to his old habits. He's still emotionless and seemingly bored most of the time though. Always having a horrible time.

The Child

Specifically the child from "the button of doom" who gets the dehydration gun and turns his mother into an ice cube. I enjoy the idea of a full on villain bratty child who can't be sent to jail, bc he's a child. (Sort of like the kid from Word Girl and the little girl from Powerpuff girls) He could also reflect how Megamind was as a kid. in the end the child isn't literally evil, just immature.

I'm also changing The doom syndicate from a squad Megamind used to be a part of to fellow villains who Megamind hated. (I know they are based on a cut concept for the movie but it was cut for a reason, megamind shouldn't have been part of a squad at all, he only had Minion, that's kinda the point). My idea is that Megamind was the sort of "main villain" to metroman, and he used to make fun of the rest for being his "side villains" lmao. (I would love for metroman and megamind to have a lego joker-batman sort of thing going on)

Also, what if the villain scene was sort of competitive. They didn't have any respect for each other, and they all worked alone. Until now, considering from their perspective Megamind killed Metroman. They see him as a bigger threat now, and also want to beat him up bc he was the most annoying "fellow villain". As such, they join forces and form the doom syndicate. Although, I do like the idea of them appearing one by one across the show before forming the squad. (Perhaps like a season finale)

Tighten is tricky because he's been dealt with in the movie and it'd be repetitive to fight him again. Although, I think some random scientist villain giving him powers again could have potential, as he's the number 1 Megamind hater and is easily manipulated... Food for thought

#I am so insane for evil bernard #he's so. queer coded villain of the week my beloved #also.... what if Musicman trans allegory #like he had to “die” and escaoe the expectations of everyone around him #bc of something he was bron with (his powers) and had no control over #but now he's escaped and can be happy #changing his name to musicman #anywayysss #megamind #megamind meme #metroman #megamind show #the doom syndicate #bernard #EVIL BERNARD #megamind fanart #megamind au #megamind fandom #megamind roxane

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raayllum · 5 months ago

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Rayllum's S7 Arc through the Lens of S6

By surprisingly popular demand (aka I thought the poll would get maybe 30-70 votes max, not 151 holy shit thank you) I thought it was time to look at S6's plotline for Rayla and Callum and how, in my personal belief, basically every single scene they have sets up their main ongoing storyline in S7. What storyline you ask? Well, I think there are basically there are 3-4 main threads that S6 either sets up or continually evolves for them

The possession plot line

Love > Mystery (Callum? + the cube and Aaravos)

The Greater Good

Love > Duty (Rayla) / the importance of breaking promises (Claudia, Runaan)

Most of these are pretty set in stone — only the 2nd one is what I would call speculative in regards to Callum's interiority next season leading up to the possession — so let's get through the most obvious one first, and start with

The Possession Plot Line

But wait, you say, Callum can't be possessed again. He fixed the hole in his spirit caused by dark magic which means Aaravos can't control him again.

Yes, and there is Ample evidence throughout the season (and prior seasons) that he will 1) do dark magic and 2) that they've kept on setting up the possession plotline throughout the majority of the season (6x01-6x05), which I'll start with in one of their first scenes in 6x01:

CALLUM: [Chuckles] It would've been a comfy and cozy death.

In a similar way that Callum's first scene in 4x01 involves the mirror (Aaravos) and has him stumble over his various titles establishes that his main arc will be about his search for control over his identity/self, 6x01 highlights this again: he's not a threat because he's Callum, himself ("It's just me") so Rayla can stand down. This of course ties back into the loss of identity that the possession brings ("I felt so weak and out of control. I was his puppet") and the promise Callum asked for in S4 that Rayla rejected (and we'll get to the reiteration of it in 6x03 later).

We also see that in how Callum's language has changed from season four both in his conversation with Rayla:

CALLUM: I'm not afraid that he'll hurt me. I'm afraid that he'll use me to do awful things, or hurt people I care about. (4x07) CALLUM: I don't know how, but I'm afraid... He's gonna use me. (6x01)

and with Soren:

SOREN: I know that mirror too well. My father was obsessed with it. [...] Callum, I-I know you love magic, but I hope you're careful. Because it can change people. (4x04)

CALLUM: As long as it's here or anywhere, it poses a threat, because Aaravos can manipulate people on the outside. Like he did with Lord Viren. And me. (6x01)

And, quite frankly, if Aaravos had already used Callum for his intended ultimate purpose, we would've seen the Callum pawn intro in S6 (the pawn intro that features the cube, I might add), neither of which have fully come to fruition. So. (But again, more on that later.)

We also have 6x03 directly renew the promise with Rayla's conversation in Runaan — who in many ways was the embodiment of "upholding your duty to the immense detriment of yourself and everyone else around you" — that Rayla's promise is going to come back around, and that literally can't happen unless 1) Callum does dark magic so 2) Aaravos can corrupt/possess him.

There is very, exceedingly little point to not only repeat a plot beat we've already seen in 4x07 just to have Rayla change her answer to the more dramatic, stakes-driven one, reaffirm it in the season finale, and then completely drop it.

This plot thread of the eventual possession fight is also set up through Rayla's encounters with Esmeray, Runaan, and the idea of monsters/corruption: "[After corruption] what life remains has been twisted into monstrosities" / "I'm a monster!" "You're not a monster!" "I remember I fought you. I tried to kill you! How could I?" / "You keep calling it a monster."

After all, if Rayla can restore their identities to Esmeray and her father... then why not Callum? ("I own you. I control you! Deadwood!" "That's not my name. My name is Elmer.") As 6x06 makes sure to tell us, the light-star ritual rids the body of dark magic, but with an added caveat: "But beware: if you ever do dark magic again, the darkness and corruption will overwhelm you."

There's also a lot of other reasons this kind of framing for it makes sense for Callum's arc and the show (which is all about making choices) in particular — but yeah, there's not a doubt in my mind that Callum is getting possessed in S7 and is doing dark magic again. Even their first scene together in 6x01 with "I heard you were up here losing your mind" which is what literally happens during possession and is a direct parallel to Zubeia's dark magic corruption ("Infected. Corrupted. I fear I'm losing everything. Losing my mind").

So let's talk about something a little less set in stone, which is Callum's journey to getting there. Specifically:

Love > Mystery

What is the mystery of Aaravos?

Well, there's a few. There's his initial motivations, which are now answered thanks to season six. There's his involvement with dark magic, which will likely be answered in season 7. Callum had the initial mystery of the mirror. Aaravos taunts Sol Regem over "the mystery that has haunted you for a thousand years" in the death/disappearance of his mate. Seasons four and five were dedicated to figuring out the mystery of his prison, though we still likely have more to learn about the imprisonment itself.

However, the mystery we've been steadily waiting one since season one is simple:

For years now, I'd speculated that the Key wasn't a literal key to Aaravos' prison (though I hadn't ruled it out), but something that would be a power up and help restore him to his full abilities. The fact that we now know why and indeed that Aaravos wants it back at all is a beautiful fun bonus in the predictions chart.

The fact that it's linked to primal magic also makes sense even beyond its design, as the language used to talk about primals is similar to the kind used to describe the cube:

LUJANNE: They have a piece of it inside them. We call that piece an arcanum. It's like the secret of the primal, or its meaning. That secret becomes a spark. The tiniest flicker of a primal source inside you, but enough to ignite the world with its magic. (2x01)

CALLUM: You don't control anything. But you already knew that, didn't you? Because it's the secret of the Ocean itself. The arcanum. (5x08)

In season 7, Callum is going to inevitably learn (hi Astrid?) that Aaravos is out of his prison and, presumably, the Archmage will be looking for his primal book of destiny. What may happen, then, is a race to get the book first, with the Cube pointing the way seemingly to Elarion, if Callum's little map in 6x02 is to be believed... or in that general direction, at least.

If Callum can get the book and use the Key with it, he'd solve a big mystery, get a lot of cool primal stuff, and be all geared up to defeat Aaravos while also de-powering the Startouch elf. He doesn't have to worry about being controlled anymore, but I could see this being the alternative avenue Callum gets obsessed over since it combines 1) his deep desire to learn more primal magic, 2) his love of books, 3) his Key, which he's wanted to figure out since s2 and is actively working on it (6x02), and 4) his desire to defeat Aaravos and keep the world and everyone else safe.

The Cube's secrets, the location of the book, the mystery of Primal magic. The mystery of Aaravos.

I don't think it's going to be that simple though, seeing as S6 also introduces a small but interesting caveat when it comes to chasing mysteries:

Anyone who knows me knows that I love Aaravos and Rayla's foil dynamic and it is persistently one of my favourites, so I was pleasantly surprised when S6 gave it so much direct focus. Rayla being a literal metaphorical star in direct opposition to Aaravos as the Literal Light to Aaravos' darkness in their dynamics with Callum; 6x09 being about their journeys in processing the loss of family; and of course, the above, with wondrous mysteries paling in comparison to their loved ones (Callum, Rayla; Leola).

Another thing I always thought was interesting was the candle parallel between Aaravos, Rayla, and Callum.

Upon their (re)entry into Callum's life, he holds a candle up to both of them. For Aaravos, this remains 'lit' and upheld, as Callum spends the two years after his TDP short story, "Inheritance" investigating the secrets of mirror. A mystery that is interrupted and delayed by Rayla's return, in which Callum holds up another candle (despite having primal magic at his beck and call)... and then lowers it and puts the candle down when he sees that it's her.

Almost like the mystery of the mirror — of the cube — doesn't hold a candle to her.

That the mystery he may become obsessed with in S7 is one he's ultimately willing to relinquish if it means saving her life.

Do the right thing. Make the sacrifice.

This doesn't rule out Callum delivering the cube under possession (hi pawn intro featuring him pondering it and turning to stone), mind you, nor does it mean Callum can't reclaim the Cube and use it / the book for good by the end of the season (him reclaiming the cube has always been one of my favourite ideas, mirroring the way he'll reclaim his identity and agency from Aaravos).

But I do think S6 in this specific vein added interesting precedent to the idea of Love being more important than mysteries, and with Rayla being Callum's one path, well...

It'd make a lot of sense, wouldn't it?

The Greater Good

The "greater good" has always been a loaded concept in TDP, whether it was the singular Magma Titan vs thousands of human lives, or hundreds of people teaming up to defend Zym at the Storm Spire, though rarely spelled out as directly as it was in S6. I want to do a proper meta update on S5 and S6's continued trolley problems, ideally sooner rather than later, so I'm not going to go as Ham here as I could. That's said, there's still plenty to talk about, so let's get into it.

Season six sees three kind of distinct trolley problems. The first is in discussion only between Callum and Rayla in 6x03 on either end; the second is over Viren and Kpp'Ar regarding the staff (and arguably Lissa as well); and the third with Viren and Soren in Katolis during Sol Regem's attack.

Obviously the one that is most relevant to this meta is 6x03, but I'd argue it starts a little earlier in the season in both 6x01 and later in 6x05 for our lovebirds, respectively:

RAYLA: You knew. You knew this was the reward. [Callum nods] Why didn't you tell me? CALLUM: Because I know you, Rayla. If I'd told you, you would've refused to go, because you never do anything for yourself. So I wanted to do something for yourself for you.

When it comes to the greater good, Rayla routinely puts it above all else. This is one of her strongest similarities to Viren in Arc 1, who cared about "a bright future for all of humanity" even at the detriment of his own children and all moral standing. Callum, however, in a steady surefire contrast to both of them, puts her and Ezran above anything and everything else, which is exactly why Rayla immediately understands "the issue" after learning about his dark magic use:

RAYLA: Am I supposed to thank you? CALLUM: No, that's not what I'm saying. I... RAYLA: Listen to me. If you ever have to choose between me or the greater good, do the thing thing. Make the sacrifice.

Callum then uses this as leverage, as previously discussed, to get Rayla to agree to his own request to kill him if Aaravos ever takes control of him again. She does, this time, as Callum cites:

CALLUM: You told me to never sacrifice the greater good for one person, no matter who it is, well... You have to promise me something, too.

When a character says something in dialogue ("If you must make a choice [between Soren and egg / 'the world'], choose the egg"), particularly when it comes to making a choice, that inevitably means they are going to be presented with that situation and have to make a choice. If a character is told not to do something, or says they will never do something ("I don't do dark magic. I will never help you"), they will almost inevitably always end up eventually doing so. This isn't always true, of course, in TDP or otherwise, but it is still a general setup rule of thumb.

So Callum is going to be pushed into an avenue where he has to pick between the greater good or Rayla, likely in the vein of helping Aaravos or losing her, and he's going to pick helping Aaravos to save her. This may mean handing over that damn cube (meta on that specifically to follow) or, at bare minimum, doing dark magic knowing it'll mean corrupting himself (self sacrifice) and subsequently turning himself over into Aaravos' will of chaos (sacrificing the greater good) knowing the consequences will be disastrous.

Because he would do anything for her, and that includes sacrificing his life, his agency ("That's the dark magic you want. Just let her go" / "Finnegrin was going to kill you. I didn't have a choice"), the world ("Tell me she wasn't your world"), and becoming a 'monster'.

He'll be saved, of course. I think S7 will actually end quite well for Callum — freed from Aaravos' possession forever, reconciled with his brother, happy with Rayla, reclaiming his cube and possibly learning from Aaravos' book of primal magic, etc. The road to get there is just going to be hell, first.

This conflict of greater good vs personal attachments though, while present in Callum's arc (choosing Ez over Harrow in 1x03; Rayla over his morals in 2x07; Rayla over his safety in 5x08, etc), is likewise at its most prevalent in Rayla's arc, so let's talk about it.

Love > Duty

Ehasz: Lain and Tiadrin, and Runaan and Ethari, as the parents of Rayla, represent the forces that are at war within her between duty and love. Her biological parents left her out of duty and Runaan and Ethari raised her out of love. Think about how she left Callum; she chose duty over love. Now she’s choosing love over duty, and we'll see this conflict within her manifest again.

So. Rayla "never [does] anything for herself," by Callum's own admission. She's agreed to murder her boyfriend if he's ever possessed again. She refused to purposefully help her family until everything with Aaravos was resolved (6x01, 6x05: "Just wait a little longer, okay?"). Her core conflict has routinely been Love vs Duty ("My heart for Xadia), often to her detriment when she chooses duty over love.

While in some ways her heart has been hardened more than it was in arc 1 ("We can't save everyone, Soren"), in others, she's never been softer and more hopeful ("I'm your daughter and I need you"). After all, while I see Rayla herself as Callum's one truth, if we read it as Love (in general), than that makes her the physical/visual embodiment of Love in his life, and well...

As the most Moonshadow elf to ever Moonshadow, Runaan was, in a lot of ways, the embodiment of duty in S1. He fought his daughter and "tried to kill" her in an effort to maintain his oath as a Moonshadow elf and honour his position as troupe leader. He was prepared to possibly take her life, as "we take it, but we do not take it lightly." He refused to listen.

I think the fact that he's remorseful as all hell in S6, then, bodes very well for the future. Not only does his fight with Rayla foreshadow multiple elements of her fight with Callum—identity, corruption, "I know you're still in there! I'm not letting you go!"—but if he embodies the remorse of duty, and Rayla embodies the persistence and forgiveness of love, well...

Love wins over duty.

This is symbolized, too, as the parallels between Rayla's assassin binding—a solemn vow and threat of punishment if she failed in her duty, which Callum's act of love (smashing the primal stone to save Zym) allowed her to be free of—and the bracelet/binding that Callum gifts her explicitly out of his love and care for her. The first binding a reminder that as an assassin, she was "already dead" vs one that will help her come back to him.

This follows through on what season hammers home, which is that Rayla (and the world around her) is at its best when acting in accordance with her big heart. The prophecy and reason dictated that to kill the icy monster was the best route forward, but her heart saw otherwise ("I know in my heart. You have to trust me") and allowed her to connect and literally help repair/illuminate Esmeray's broken heart by gifting the moon opal. Her love, not her fierce devotion to duty, is Callum's guiding star ("Rayla is kind and good" / "You have true courage, and a big heart" / "Rayla is selfless, strong, and caring. That's what makes her a hero. That's what makes her Rayla." / "I understand now. Your kindness pierced her heart and melted the threat" / "Yours is a wondrous heart").

Runaan taught her to never break her promises (6x09) as part of being a Moonshadow elf and a good assassin, but breaking her promise ("Before I met you, I swore an oath, to end Prince Ezran's life") and indeed sparing Marcos was one of the best, most crucial things she's ever done. Since we know Callum won't sacrifice her, we can also be sure — especially after her victories with Runaan and Esmeray — that she won't sacrifice him. Runaan broke his promise to Ethari, inadvertently abandoning his lover for two years over something that was ultimately harmful and unnecessary (sound familiar), and it makes me wonder if Runaan will support Rayla choosing love over duty, and mutually learning from their own mistakes in doing the opposite.

There's also the fact that sometimes, breaking a promise would be a good thing, as showcased in prior seasons:

SOREN: Of course we can [capture the boys]. We promised Dad. (2x07)

CLAUDIA: Aaravos followed through on everything he said he was going to do to save my dad. And I promised to help free him. (6x04)

Conclusion: Sacrifice

Where a lot of these points meet, though, especially for the intersection of love and duty, is at the point of Sacrifice. We see this smattered throughout the season, both directly in dialogue

CALLUM: You told me to never sacrifice the greater good for one person, no matter who it is. Well, you have to promise me something too. (6x03)

VIREN: And even if I could, oh, the sacrifice is unthinkable. The spell requires a human heart. (6x08)

and more indirectly but still very prominently through action: Claudia killing/suffering through the physical and emotional ordeal of killing Sir Sparklepuff ("It... It's love!" "It's too much to ask. It hurts to see you like this); Viren regretting how he handled things with Lissa and then afterwards with Soren because "the cost was devastating. Your mother left us"; and of course in Callum and Rayla's argument in 6x03 over Callum's willingness to destroy and hurt himself in order to protect Rayla, who's done the same thing many times over, just in leaving or using herself as a shield.

"We must be ready to sacrifice, even the things we love" (3x03) when it comes to duty. We must likewise be willing to sacrifice things, such as duty, safety, ego/pride, morality, or your life, in the name of love. Sacrifice — dark magic, of what are you willing to trade or kill or sacrifice in exchange for your aims or protective desires — is then accordingly, the theme of Book Seven: Dark, and one that both Callum and Rayla will have to confront.

Luckily, Callum is consistent and enduring — and Rayla is true hearted and growing — enough to do the Right Thing, and make the choice they've ultimately, routinely, always made: each other.

So long as she's Rayla — brave, selfless, loving — he can be Callum, and so long as he's Callum — resourceful, persistent, loving — she can be Rayla. Not a dark mage forcing her to be an assassin, but two people who bring out the best in one another.

And in doing so, in choosing to save rather than sacrifice each other, they get to likewise save, love, and preserve themselves.

#tdp #rayllum #tdp meta #theme: identity #i need you to kill me #analysis series #predictions #s6 #arc 2 #tdp callum #tdp rayla #the dragon prince #analysis

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