#or they’ll be to fill in blind spots later

[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow; 9

Commander Snow

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

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

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

chapter 9

Chapter 10

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

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

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

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

This morning was no exception. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh at him. 

“I think Snow wrote that one.”

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

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

He reaches out to take your hand into his. 

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

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

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

You push his hand away, irritated at the thought. 

“He didn’t do anything to me.”

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

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

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

“Okay,” Edmund agrees. “I am sorry.”

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

“I’ll go cook breakfast, alright? ‘’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—- 

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, stranger,” he whispers. 

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

You push closer. “Tighter,” you demand. 

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

Edmund smelt nicer. A soft woody smell. 

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

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

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

In the meantime Edmund would be there to support you.

—-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re late.” Edmund comments. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—------

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

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

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

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

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

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

You all wait for the update Roger will bring. 

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

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

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

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

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

You shoot up from the log in a panic. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We can’t leave him there.”

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

Your mother sat sobbing and you joined her. 

Dear God, what have you done?

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

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

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

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

—------------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

None of you move, perplexed at his outburst. 

“Now!” he shouts, “Move!” 

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

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

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

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

“Peacekeepers are searching the mountains.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, let's go.”

“Commander Snow said every inch”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Night falls before Edmund makes the call to investigate. 

His mother kisses him before he leaves. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You started by hugging him tight. 

—---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where is everyone?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?” 

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

“Not now,” he scolds. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, that’s not true. 

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

—---------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—----------

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

Edmund stood behind you with a shy smile. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You kiss him again to show your gratitude. 

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

“I love you too, stupid.” 

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

—------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His mother wails, joining your begging. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You run to him anyway, dropping where he hung. 

You reach out and touch his foot as it sways. 

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

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

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

You felt too disorientated to fight back. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Coriolanus, are they going to be okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you understand me?” he asks.

“Yes, Commander.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coriolanus returns much later, around dinner time. 

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

“Where else could I go?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re sorry? Not good enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I let him live once. Remember?”

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

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

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

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

“Edmund was a good man.”

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

“And now he’s a dead man.”

His sentence stung you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was. Knew. No more.

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

Tears well in your eyes again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They bore the consequences of your stupidity.

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

You wallow in bed for an hour before Coriolanus rejoins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coriolanus said nothing to you as he eats.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The two women look between each other, unsure.

“Mr. Snow said to take everything.”

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

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

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

You sit and wait for him on the bed.

Coriolanus storms in not moments later.

“The jacket,” he demanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 ————

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

“I’ve brought you a cup of tea.”

“Thank you. I don’t want tea.”

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

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

“I have no plan,” you admit.

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

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

“You look so different.” 

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

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

“I am still the same.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You weren’t really sure you would want to. 

“No.” 

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

He sighs, ‘‘That depends on you.” 

“Will it be like the compound?”

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

“I meant being locked indoors.”

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

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

His eyes move down, back to you. 

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

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

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

“Sir, you have a call.”

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

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

“Duty calls,” you taunt. 

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

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

—----

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

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

Lunchtime came around and Coriolanus disrupted your wallowing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Put on your shoes and meet me outside.” 

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

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

Coriolanus sat at the booth looking out of the window. 

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

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

It seemed unreal. 

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

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

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

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

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

The lights were blinding as you exited the carriage. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You felt as if you had stepped onto another planet. 

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

All gained from the hard labor of the Districts. 

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

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

“No one lives here,” he answers shortly. 

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

“Mr. Snow. Welcome.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He does so quickly and elegantly. 

“And now for you, Madam.” 

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

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

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

“Marriage?”

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

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

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

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

He releases you once you do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sob at his words. 

“Forgive her. The journey was long.” 

“Of course.” 

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

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

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

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

“Anything for our future president.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready?” he asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

The elevator door opens and he hits the top floor. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You flinch as the colorful tissues attack you.  

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

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

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

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

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

“My boy. Future president of Panem.” 

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

She turns to you as Coriolanus releases her. 

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

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

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

“May I introduce Mrs. Snow.”

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

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

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

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

Tigris gasps upon seeing it but you have no reaction. 

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

You push the ring on his finger quickly. 

It was enough for Tigris who claps and jumps. 

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

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

“I want to hear everything!” Tigris says.

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

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

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

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

—----------

You wake at midnight in a fright. 

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

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

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

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

You struggle against him in a panic. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay. Just go back to sleep.” 

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

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

Coriolanus made no comment given your state. 

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

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

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

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

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

—--------------

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

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

“Hey, how’d you sleep?”. 

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

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

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

Already it’s racing with guilt. 

You latch onto his arm. 

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

He looks to weigh up his options before deciding.  

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

“I won’t,” you promise. 

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

“Ok, Coriolanus.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The breakfast table is near silent as everyone ate. 

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

—-----‘

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 The day of the election came fast. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They only talk to each other as they work. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They surrounded a large stage lit up with bright lights.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrink back as they gather around him. His grasp hurt. Your bones in your hand felt as if they were about to pop out of place. But it was too easy to get lost in the crowd, so he wouldn’t loosen it.

Too many voices overlapped to hear any single one. A few pats on your shoulder was all the attention you received while Coriolanus was drowning in a sea of people.

You couldn’t make out his words over the people and the music. You let yourself be overtaken with the senses.

You smiled and nodded at people as you passed them. It was Coriolanus’ big night, you couldn’t even fathom the punishment if you were to make a mistake tonight.

You stay close to him, just over his shoulder.

He looks back to check on you one or two times but never opens his mouth.

Confetti had been hidden in his curls. You focused on counting the pieces.

The whirl-pool of people seemed to never end. As soon as one person faded another took their place.

It must have been half an hour before Coriolanus made the small distance to the apartment block.

It was 30 stories with a roof top bar that was pumping with lights and music.

The rest of the people would mingle down below with food and drinks. Huddling around the colorful glass standing tables.

You reach the entrance, guarded by two peacekeepers, and Coriolanus leads you in front of him as he presses the button for the elevator.

It was quick to come and Coriolanus pushed your hips to make you move inside.

He lets go of you as you enter and gives a wave to his fans as the door closes.

The elevator is dead quiet. Only the faint sound of pumping music could be heard.

You think he is too wrapped up in his victory to pay you any mind now you were out of sight of the public.

You were relieved almost to be out from under his attention. But he moves quick to push you up against the wall and smash his lips onto yours.

His hands steady your face as he assaults your lips.

He leaves you out of breath and grins at you widely for it.

The door dings open, and he pulls back from you. Only taking a loose grip of your hand.

Another cheer for the President was heard over the music as he steps out.

You look around the room at all the people in white. Supporters of a maniac.

Tigris and Grandma’am were offered a lounge chair as they ate and drank.

“Look,” he spoke to you, taking a green drink off a tray offered to him, “The apple pie drink you wanted. I requested it especially for you.”

He passed you the drink as a man approached him.

You managed to get a “thank you” out before the stranger began to talk.

Coriolanus paid you no more mind the rest of the night. He spoke and joked freely with the party goers while stringing you along behind him.

A few spoke to you about mundane things but Coriolanus was quick to end any longer talk then a few seconds.

The drink did taste like apple pie. A low rate apple pie. You could bake one much better. But for a drink it was fine. You ended up drinking three before Coriolanus snatched the fourth and placed it on a nearby table.

Tigres caught your eye a couple of times. You knew she was making sure you were alright. She was kind, and so ‘un-Capitol’.

Grandma’am was more true to her up-bringing. She insisted on teaching you the ways of the Capitol, and training you out of your ‘District ways’.

“It'll be our secret,” she told you over breakfast this morning, “I’ll defend you against the District rumors.”

In a way you supposed it was sweet of her. Although her intentions could very well be for Coriolanus' benefit rather than yours.

The later it got, the quieter it got.

People began disappearing. Others passed out on sofas and lounges.

Coriolanus' energy never seemed to drain, but Tigris’ and Grandma’am’s did.

Tigris had come over and interrupted Coriolanus' conversation. She offered to take you home with her and Grandma’am but Coriolanus was resistant.

“She’s fine, Tigris. I’ll bring her home with me.”

If you had been on equal standing with Coriolanus, you would have protested and just left but you were mud under his shoe, so you smiled at Tigris and told her you would see her in the morning.

Tigris kissed both of you goodbye. You hold on to her for too long. You could tell from the way Coriolanus squeezed your hand.

The party continued long after she had gone.

Your legs hurt from standing in the heels and your dress was too tight to have eaten all you did over the course of the night.

Coriolanus could sense that you were nearing the end of what you could take, so he began his final lap of victory around the room.

You were beyond grateful when he ushered you into the car.

You sighed as you sunk down into the plush leather seats, taking off your heels instantly.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said as the car entered the main road which had returned to its normal state of business even late at night, “You were very well behaved.”

“Congratulations on your win,” you return.

“Snow always lands on top,” he talks softly as he gazes out to the city.

The car rolls through the city smoothly. Coriolanus watches it pass from the window.

You feel half-asleep resting your head back on the seat.

You feel him move you down to a lying position and your eyes shoot wide open. His fingers brush your skin as he slides the skirt of your dress up.

“What are you doing?” You catch his hands and he lowers his head.

He hushes you as he slides your panties off your hips, “All the drivers talk.”

Trapped in a car in a city that kills your people for entertainment, you lay back and don’t make a sound.

You clutch the back of the seat in a tight hold as Coriolanus begins.

Edmund was barely cold in the ground and here you were, being eaten out by the man who killed him.

You try not to focus on it as Coriolanus' lips and tongue work. It pulls a moan from you and Coriolanus hits your thigh.

You press your tongue between your teeth to avoid making noise. A hand makes its way into Coriolanus’ curls and tugging on them gives you a sense of satisfaction.

It encourages him however and his movements become more targeted and passionate.

The car pulls to the curb in front of his house by the time you had made a mess in the backseat.

You lay back with your legs spread as you come down from your high.

A chill shoots through you as the door is opened by the driver but Coriolanus pulls it closed before he could see the scene.

You get up despite not being ready too. Coriolanus grabs your shoes and pockets your panties, taking your hand when its free.

You both emerge from the car as if nothing had happened.

It was late and cold. You thank the driver as you pass him.

The building was huge. Nearly all the floor was covered in titles and your feet made a sound against them.

You try to slow your walk to quite the sound, but Coriolanus was eager to get up to the apartment.

He storms across the lobby, and courtyard before reaching the steps that lead to the elevator.

He presses the button too many times. It doesn’t make it come any faster.

The house is dark and silent as you enter. The women went to bed hours ago, and you were hopping to follow suit.

Coriolanus leads you to his bedroom which is large and not yet decorated.

You pull free from him as you enter. Immediately you tear all the pins and roses from your hair.

You hear Coriolanus drop your shoes.

He clears his throat to gain your attention.

“Your brother and mother have been freed from the compound.”

Your fingers freeze in your hair. It felt as if he had lifted a great weight off your chest. You turn to him in gratitude.

“Thank you, Coriolanus.”

He smiles down at you before stooping down to your height and placing a firm kiss to your lips.

You push back against his shoulders after the kiss continues past a normal amount of time.

He pushes back, bracing you against the bed with him on top of you.

His lips turn to your neck as he unzips the back of your dress.

“Coriolanus, please don’t,” you beg.

He slides the dress’s straps off your shoulder as he responds, “Please, just give this to me. Don’t make me take it.’’

The dress is taken off you, and Coriolanus strips it off with kisses.

Only when a kiss is placed on your hip do you begin to struggle.

This man had tormented you for months. Starved you. Robbed you. Killed the man you loved. You would give him nothing freely.

You kick and push him away, but he is stronger.

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay.” He pulls you upward by your wrists to the pillows.

“No! Get off of me!”

“Y/N, please. Please,” he pleads.

You continue to fight but he persists.

 “Please, don’t make me do this.”

“No. No. Edmund! Mum!”

“Shut up,” it was less of a command and more of a plea, “Please, shut up.” 

You do. What would your resistance gain you? A few more seconds until the inevitable. 

His grip loosens as you are still beneath him. 

With only a weak hold of your wrists, he pulls off his clothes. You can hear the movement but can’t force your eyes to open. 

Tears leak down your cheeks but you refrain from making a sound. 

“It’s alright. I’ll take care of you.” 

He lines himself up and pushes in with ease. The pain was subsided due to your wetness from the car ride but the first slow thrusts felt slightly painful and uncomfortable. 

You whine slightly as you adjust to the intrusion. You fight to release your wrists from his hold, you wanted to push back on his shoulders, feeling as if he was too deep. 

“It’ll only hurt for a little bit,” he promised, continuing his slow movements. 

He kisses you as you let out another whine. 

Soon the pain did stop, and an enjoyable sensation began to form. 

Coriolanus tried his best to remain slow, but as he got lost in his own lust, he forgot about your pain. 

It felt as if he was bruising you. But his mouth never left yours so you couldn’t voice a complaint.

Your hips jerk away from him, trying to ease the pressure but his spare hand stills your hip, making you take the full brunt of what he wanted to give you. 

He pulls his head back from yours and groans.

“Ah,” he grunts. 

“Coriolanus-” you had wanted to ask him to slow down but you feel yourself tightening around him as you come. 

His hand moves from your wrists and intertwines with your hand. He presses his weight down as he picks up his pace to chase his own high. 

“Wait, wait!” you were through. Every second after was too much. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he grunts. 

You groan from the pressure as he continues. 

“Almost there, darling.” 

His last few thrusts are hard but the pressure turns into a warm pool between your legs. 

Coriolanus is still as he rests his forehead upon your shoulder. You don’t move either, unsure of what to do. 

A few moments later and he raises his head, repositioning himself so his arms cage around your head. 

 He drags a finger down the bridge of your nose and it runs off your cheek like a tear. 

“Welcome to the Capitol, Mrs. Snow.

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[vodika-vibes]

Congratulations on your new follower milestone!! You're amazing and deserve all the love. <3

For my request:

Gemstone: My birthstone, Topaz (affectionate love)

Clone: Gonna have to be my #1 fella, Hunter, because I'm nothing if not a Hunter simp of the highest order. (I know you've said you're not comfy with Hunter, but you've always nailed it before!)

Season: Autumn

I honestly have no ideas at all as to where I would want this to go, so I'd love it if you would just use your magic brain to write what you feel (and don't feel pressure to come up with something out of the ordinary if that's not where you're led, anything with Hunter will make me happy, guaranteed.)

Thanks so much for always being so willing to fill requests. <3

Carol (@clonethirstingisreal)

Fall Into Love

Summary: Hunter’s relatively new to relationships, but he’s trying his hardest to make you happy. So when you invite him to go apple picking with you, he’s happy to go along…even if he doesn’t quite understand it.

Pairing: TBB Hunter x F!Reader

Prompt: Topaz - Affectionate Love

Word Count: 745

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I hope this is affectionate enough! Your request made me remember all of those long autumn days in Massachusetts when my mom and aunt would drag the kids apple picking, and we'd climb trees and eat apples. It was fun, even if I wasn't allowed to eat any of the apples, due to my allergy.

“You seem excited?” Hunter hesitantly offers as he watches you pull your hair into a tail, and then pull a sweatshirt over the thin tank top you’re wearing.

You flash a blinding smile at the man sitting on your bed, “I am excited! It’s fall!”

The smile he graces you with is soft and adoring. It’s how he’s always smiled at you, but it never fails to make you giggle. Your tough, strong man turns into such a sap when he sees you happy.

“I’m glad that you’re happy,” Hunter says quietly, “But I’m not sure I understand what we’re doing today.” He lifts the pamphlet and eyes it, “Apple picking? Isn’t that just us paying to do work?”

You laugh, your head tilting back before you drop to the bed next to him, “Not quite. We each get a bag, and we get to keep anything that we pick.”

“...and do what with them?” He asks, bewildered.

“Well, I’ll make some pies, and some tarts, and some jam and jelly and cider-” You list off your fingers, “More importantly, there’s more there than just the apple picking.”

You hop to your feet and take his hand in yours, pulling him to his feet.

“I suppose the others would like a pie.” Hunter admits as he allows you to pull him through the apartment and to the front door. And then he offers you support as you pull your boots on.

“I make amazing pies.” You brag, before you spin on your toes, as best as you can while wearing your boots, and you drop a quick kiss to his lips, “And, if you have fun, we can bring Omega there next weekend.”

He grins at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners, “Well then, I suppose we’d better find out if I like it.” Hunter teases as he offers you your thin windbreaker, and then opens the door for you.

Half an hour later, he pulls your speeder up in front of the Orchard, looking genuinely surprised at the sheer number of people here. “Uh…babe-?”

“It’s a large orchard, and it’s a popular autumn activity,” You explain as he pulls the speeder into an open spot, and parks.

“And you’re sure they’ll let me in?”

“I’m positive.” You fling open the door and climb out of the speeder, and then wait for Hunter to join you. “Here,” You pass him a hair tie, “Picking apples requires some tree climbing.”

“Ah, you think of everything, don’t you?” Hunter asks as he pulls his hair into a much shorter tail than yours. And then he laughs as you take his hand and tug him, impatiently, towards the small booth that accepts payment and gives out bags.

The girl working the counter glances at Hunter, boredly, and then passes him a pair of bags after you pay. “Here,” She says as she focuses her attention back to her comm, “A map of the orchard, and a list of all of the events. Please avoid the areas that are roped off since those trees aren’t mature yet.”

And then she waves the pair of you away, and you lightly tug Hunter to the side, to glance at the map. “Mm…here, let’s go to this part of the orchard,” You say motioning to a part of the orchard near a lake. 

“Alright.” Hunter glances at the map over your shoulder, “Mm…this way, I think.” He folds the map and slides it into his pocket, and you, quite happily, take his hand in yours and thread your fingers with his.

Hunter pauses, lightly reaching out with his free hand to brush his fingers against your cheek, “Thank you,” He breathes out.

“For what?” You ask as you reach up and press your hand over his, gently squeezing his fingers.

“For inviting me into your life,” Hunter replies.

You blink at him, and laugh softly, “Oh, you goof.” You focus a loving smile at him, “You say that as if it’s a hardship to invite you into my life. As if I’ve ever done anything other than love you.”

Hunter brings your joined hands to his lips, and he presses a feather light kiss to your knuckles. You know that the words are hard for him, but you don’t mind. He shows you that he loves you with every touch and with every look. 

And so you beam at him, “I love you, Hunter. Thank you for being in my life.”

[zoe-and-quinn]

Whumptober Day 9

Polaroid / Mistaken Identity / “You’re a liar.”

TW: Restraints, partial nudity (non-sexual), knife, creepy whumper

The morning had gone by like usual. Alexei had come in to hand out food, water, and meds. Casey took a few minutes to go through Georgia’s paper cup and point out each supplement, antidepressant, and vitaman, to ease her mind. There was only one he didn’t recognise, but she quickly explained that it was her estrogen supplement.

“I don’t know how he knew my brand or dosage, though.”

“He has his ways,” Casey sighed.

Alexei came by to collect dishes, and the three started a game of go fish using Felix’s cards, asking questions with each play to get to know each other. Felix insisted on starting with simple questions, which Casey quickly agreed to. Felix tended to avoid talking about deep subjects, when at all possible. Besides, Casey didn’t know all that much about either Felix and Georgia, and favorite colors and animals seemed like a good place to start.

They only had a few minutes of playing before the door opened and Alexei walked in again. “Come on, Casey, let’s get moving,” he ordered, holding the door open and looking impatient.

Casey’s stomach dropped. “Where are we-”

“You’ve got a client,” Alexei interrupted, annoyed, “and they’ll be here any minute, so let’s move.”

Casey stayed motionless, rooted to the floor as the surprise and terror set in. He had only had a few clients since Alexei deemed him ‘trained’ enough to be on the market. He hadn’t gotten used to the paralyzing, horrible sensation of looming pain, hadn’t figured out how to push back the what-ifs and reluctance.

Alexei rolled his eyes and stepped into the room, grabbing Casey and yanking him up to his feet. He put a firm hand on his shoulder, pulling him out of his room and down the dreaded hallway. He stopped to grab something out of a cupboard, but Casey hardly noticed. He couldn’t stop staring at the steel door.

When Alexei pushed him towards it once more, the panic surged and filled his body. “Sir, don’t make me, please don’t-”

Alexei didn’t stop, sliding the bolt and pulling the door open. Casey was pushed inside. His eyes moved on their own accord, and he could not take responsibility for their sweep over the many weapons on the wall in front of him.

Something hit Casey’s back, and he flinched and turned to see a small heap of clothing on the floor. “Get changed quickly,” Alexei ordered, turning to unwrap a thick rope from an anchor on the wall.

Casey did as he was told, pulling off his old clothes and putting on a fresh white tee and a pair of black athletic shorts. He balled the dirty clothes up and held onto them nervously.

Alexei had untied the rope and added more slack. The rope was threaded through a loop on the ceiling, and the end now hung at about eye level. Tied onto it was a large, metal hook.

Alexei pulled a sturdy pair of handcuffs off a shelf, and Casey realized what was happening.

He backed away a step, shaking his head as tears started to well up in his eyes. This was all too much, he didn’t want this, he couldn’t handle this.

Alexei didn’t care. He grabbed his wrists and forced the handcuffs on, letting the bundle of clothes drop to the floor. He placed them on the hook and pulled the rope, and suddenly Casey was on his toes, hands above his head, caught like a worm on a hook.

“They’ll be here in a minute,” Alexei said, grabbing the dirty clothes and moving towards the door. “On your best behavior, understand?”

Casey said nothing, eyes screwed tightly shut.

“I said, do you understand?” The darkened tone made Casey flinch, and he nodded immediately.

“Yes, sir,” he whispered. Alexei left without another word.

The client opened the door a few minutes later, and before Casey knew it, they were momentarily blinded by the flash of a camera. Once their vision came back, blurry and littered with spots, they got a look at the client.

She looked to be in her mid 30s, with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She smiled at Casey, holding the polaroid camera up again. This time, Casey had the foresight to close his eyes before the flash.

“Don’t mind me,” the woman said, bending down and pointing the camera up at him. “I’m just getting some ‘before’ pictures. We can get started in a minute.”

Casey found himself not minding the wait, as she lined up a few more shots. Anything to delay ‘getting started’.

Eventually, she put the camera down on a table, laying the developing photos out in a row. She turned to the wall of weapons and started looking. Casey didn’t know whether he wanted to watch or not, whether he wanted to know what would happen to him in a minute or two. In the end, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t bring himself to look away.

“So many interesting toys to play with,” the woman mused, tapping her chin in indecision. “In the end, though, I think I’ll stick to the classics.”

She pulled a knife off a magnetic strip, a small, curved weapon with a wicked shard point and a much duller blade. Casey couldn’t help the pathetic little whimper that escaped from his lips.

He wasn’t strong like Felix, not yet at least. He didn’t know how to bite back the screams, how to stay witty and brave through the pain.

When that knife bit into his chest as she slit his new clean shirt, when it carved patterns into his skin like he was a block of wood, he wasn’t able to hold back the sobs.

The client stepped back after what felt like hours, circling his shaking form like an artist around a sculpture. She picked up the camera and snapped picture after picture as Casey hung, barely supporting his weight, letting the cuffs rub his wrists raw.

She watched as they developed, smiling at each new addition to the collection of Casey’s pain. At one point, she picked one up and walked over to him.

“Look,” She said, grabbing his chin and forcing him to stare at the polaroid, showing off the blood dripping down his chest. “Don’t you think you look just beautiful like this?”

She was gripping him so hard, and his body hurt so much, and he wanted her to be happy, to leave him alone. “Y-yes,” he muttered, closing his eyes once more.

“Aww, you’re lying, aren’t you.” He felt a jolt of fear at these words. Would she punish him for the lie? Should he have told the truth, that he thought he looked like a cut of meat, barely human and hardly pleasing to the eye?

“No matter,” she continued, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “I can see enough beauty for the both of us.”

[bitbrumal]

                   ::  @narvvhal​ & khioniya  ↤  PLOTTED STARTER  ::

LIYUE HARBOUR, 13 hours ago.

her majesty the tsaritsa, a brumal vision in liyue’s earthen tones. sunk from the mountainous north to find her wayward heir upon their bloody red walk bridges, beneath their geometric roofs - stalking among the many lights that herald the lantern festival. she, in search of a man who so happens to be responsible for an incident here ( as much her fault as his. )              so then, who better to make amends?

there are little ones lost to the dark maw of the chasm. only the shreds of information have made it out of there - but those did make it out, & the fatal loyalty on display so far below the earth has driven khioniya off her throne. ( m i l e s  &  m i l e s from home. ) alike those lost & yet, nothing like their strife at all.

“this is not our festival.” there is some satisfaction at the slackjawed surprise in those who recognise her here. ( shorter, smaller, but just as pale. as part of the deal she is to be but the briefest glimpse of herself within the city’s borders. ) the northland bank evidently continues to play its opulent part- as do its creditors, its hunters. ayaks’ deep eyes are such a welcome sight.        “but we may as well bring them home before it ends, no?”

THE CHASM

this place eats the light. the remains of the sun that was made to die one kind of death here, are sooty & vindictive. the rock is stained blue. asphyxiated by the shadows.                invited by her there is a hunger here, a thrill. pebbles tumble over each other in her blind spot. the scff of otherwise quiet steps; the faintest swish of his scarf trailing in the wake of his purpose—& he, in hers.

a few locations had been marked & a crude, partially filled in map had exchanged hands. what has been filled in has been done in firm detail; those who stayed in the cave system having done so at length. but they were all scattered, & what connects the known tombs are passageways that’ll leave them in the dark. & then there are the unknown...         chalk scratches along the rockface. an arrow. inward.

                          “they’ve not even eaten properly in weeks. anyone we find gets sent here,” here, where a cache of non-perishable foods awaits them. sheltered from the enemy outside yet, close enough to bask in sunlight as it slants into the pit they are descending through. it is a paltry apology, & yet the taste of home will invigorate beyond any other treat. any other necessity. since they are quite unwelcome, there is a silent understanding between her majesty & lady ninguang. not a toe out of line; but corpses- & their alternatives -free to retrieve. as long as the collected force moves linearly away from the harbour. they’ll need to climb—but that, that comes much later.                “we’ll find our own way.” doubtlessly.

“...i owe you an apology as well. they come first,” it trails off, chased down by the scratch of chalk as she chooses left - & marks it on another makeshift map. “...but i know the situation i have put you in.            i will compensate you. somehow. if you’ll let me.”

[garrulousgeologist]

[S] Kells: Return.

I read too much Homestuck and now I have several posts queued.

So initially I put off reading more Homestuck because I care about Dave Strider too much. Seeing him in his room filled me with so many emotions it’s kind of ridiculous. But then when I did start reading I kind of just didn’t stop.

I keep a google doc open each time I sit down to read where I just dump my thoughts as I go and then edit and post them here later, it’s usually a few pages long. Right now I’m editing 25 pages of thoughts. Sooo posts to come, but back to Dave.

I just love this kid.

All parental complications in HS aside, Dave is such a cool kid. I get overwhelmed with the feeling that if he were my kid I would be so, so proud of him. He is so full of anxiety and is fucked up as a result of his environment, aren’t we all, but look at him!

Interest and talent in music, engineering, photography, design, graphic art, katana combat styles, literature, preservation and taxonomy, pop culture, web design, social media literacy, history, cinema, computer science, and the list could go on much longer. He seems genuinely interested in all of this, not just for show, though he plays the irony of everything.

Also, apple juice is one of my comfort foods and has been since I was like 5 years old. I have a huge soft spot for this guy. 

So why did that make me hesitate to read his introduction for a week? For the same reason I never end up finishing teen superhero comics, anime or T.V. shows; I have a hard time watching kids get manipulated and abused. Yes they are usually predictable pieces of media and I know they’ll end up “happy” most of the time, but I can’t help that I take it a little too seriously. The adults in any ‘hero’’s life utterly fail them.

No kid should feel like they have to excel at all of this to merely survive, and yet here Dave is.

Grand snack fuckyeah is what I’m going to say every time I enter a 7/11 from now on. 

Hello??? I had no fucking idea midnight crew was a webcomic on Dave’s Internet. I knew it was on mspaintadventures.com of course, I read it, but I never registered that he would have recognized them. I wonder if he gives any indication of this when interacting with them in person, which may or may not happen later due to circumstances that arise. 

"You push against the MANHOLE COVER, but it seems some unbelievable jackass has parked your GETAWAY VAN on top of it.

A familiar feeling stirs. That feeling is overwhelming, soul-blackening rage.

It's the sort of rage that'll make a man feel totally justified in sporting an unnecessarily elaborate assortment of fancy blades."

Something  I’ll try to keep in mind- Spades Slick has anger management issues. One thing goes un-according to plan and it’s immediate, inconsolable, violent rage. Surely this won’t become relevant in the future.

I miss the interactions between these two. Sibling energy in the best way possible. Some distant memory is telling me my favorite pesterlogs to read back in the day were between Rose and Dave, like specifically seeing the red and lilac chat logs triggers a happy feeling. Excited for more of this. 

Got me straight giggling. 

Something about genuine concern this early on in Dave’s story reads as particularly endearing. That being said if I accidentally killed a crow that caw’d at my bedroom window at 13 I would be deeply troubled. 

Skips back to rose- 

Each kid has immense amounts of blind respect for their respective guardian. John believes his dad to be doing important and responsible things at all times. Dave believes his bro is the most amazing person anyone could ever have as a brother. Anything he does must be either objectively sicknasty, or ironically hilarious. Bro is just doing what he can to make Dave strong, right? Well, yeah, maybe he is, that doesn’t negate the irreparable damage his methods cause, though.

Rose, someone I think might be the most likely to recognize her parent is just as human as she is, has the same perspective. No amount of hyper intellectualizing can change the fact that a kid is a kid. 

There is nothing to psychoanalyze. Your mother clearly has no real affinity for these damnable things. She only collects them to spite you.

If anything, she finds them even more repellent than you do. She's just a committed woman.

She hates the wizard statues and paintings, and her conclusion is that her mother can’t actually like these ridiculous motifs, so she must be placing them strategically around the house to spite her. The passive-aggression as Rose sees it could just as easily be her mom genuinely trying to connect with her daughter(sister,mom) but failing due to alcoholism and an unhealthy work-life balance.

In all cases, the kids assume their guardians' behavior is the way that it is because of their own interests. This is despite each guardian having a particular interest that particularly freaks out their respective kid. And, at the same time, have their interests and aversions because of their guardian’s behavior.

(And later it comes to light that these interests and behaviors are reflected in the alpha kids’ experiences, making the topics each human is savvy to a loop).

Homestuck is many things all at once. This is part of the reason it is so difficult to describe to someone who hasn’t experienced it! (hot take)

One of those things is a coming of age story. 

This is reflected in the human kids idolizing their guardians and then growing to realize they were just people doing their best and made any mistakes that the kids now have to grapple with. A similar situation can be said of the troll kids idolizing their ancestors and then coming to recognize similar things about them as they age.

Both species have a strong sense of separation between adolescence and adulthood, eventually growing to see the lines are extremely muddled. What is that if not a coming of age concept? Who among us (sus) has not suddenly recognized the flaws in our guardians? Don’t answer that I don’t want to go that deep outside the media.

Oh my GOD I forgot about the Lalonde home fridge magnets. I need some. W.

Right after that is the first pesterlog with Jade!! I remember her being way more in-the-know about certain things like the frog ruins, etc, but I completely forgot she just kind of like knows things.

Hmm alright

Back to John chasing the ink monster. In hindsight I think I recognized that Dave messaged John a little differently than everyone else, but reading it now he’s very clearly got a crush. The in-his-DMs version of scrambling. The guy is just throwing all he has out and living off the vapors of combusting hope that something sticks.

. . .

I’m using this as an insult in my daily life now. That one stuck, Dave.

H

H-Hom..

Anyway. Put the bunny back in the box.

I just realized echeladder is a stupid fucking word. Weird fight to pick out of everything I could criticize at this point in HS, but echelon means ladder. Why..Why make it Echeladder. For to make Kells angy?

EVERYONE SHUT UP!

NANASPRITE!!! <3

Jfc The Medium. There is so much I need to re-learn. 

Me too, John. Sorry to have so many pesterlogs in this post! I don’t mean to cheapen my own reflections. I just don’t see the point in rephrasing this copied-homework style, especially when I don’t fully understand what’s being said. It’s really nice that someone is finally asking direct questions and getting direct answers though! The funny thing is in high school I thought John was lame for being so blunt and basic with his communication with his sprite, and now I’m like oh thank fuck there’s at least one logical and non-convoluted conversation between a Sburb mechanic and a player character. 

I’ll leave out the [S] GO ON. text but needless to say: Skaia.

I don’t think I ever processed the game of chess being forces of light vs. dark, but I don’t think that changes my perspective at all. That’s kind of a basic concept and in this case seems to be literal anyway. 

[S] Dave: Retrieve dead bird.

The red hot swirling sun over Texas zooming out to be Dave’s eye in some not-so-subtle foreshadowing never gets old for me. Love the imagery there.

Rose is updating her walkthrough again, so far the only text I’m just unwilling to give a thorough read-through. I skim it, okay? 

I also JUST put together that the imps’ jester hats, the jester themed chess pieces of Skaia and other imagery is part of a shitty paradoxical loop that continuously forces clownery upon every aspect of this fucking comic. I guess previously I assumed that’s just how they were as opposed to a blank canvas imp with jester imagery added to it.

"So don't change the dizzle, turn it up a little

I got a living room full of fine dime brizzles

Waiting on the Pizzle, the Dizzle and the Shizzle

G's to the bizzack, now ladies here we gizzo

When the pimp's in the crib ma

Drop it like it's hot

Drop it like it's hot

Drop it like it's hot..."

-English Romantic poet, John Keats

I’m not even going to correct this one you should know who said that. 

Tl;dr

Dave and Rose are Kell’s favorite kids, it’s a hard decision but it’s Kells’ truth. Jade deserves more credit!! Nanasprite is helpful but Kells has dumb babby disease and continues to do research. Clown culture in Homestuck is weird. It’s weird that there’s a Homestuck clown culture.

[helicrazy]

Vortex is leaning back in a chair, one audial listening to tunes with his legs crossed and placed upon the security console. His attention is entirely on the multiple screens in front of him playing live-feed footage of the nightclub he snuck into as he fiddles with a blade. There are three mechs scattered on the floor behind, alive, but out cold with a prod in their helms.

And every mornin' when I wake up I wanna be who I couldn't say I'd ever been But it's so much more than I ever was If every night I go to sleep knowin'

One of the bouncers was outside having their regular routine smokes by the back entrance, and the copter waited until they finished and slipped behind them as they entered the building. Pressing an electric gun against their helm to force them to walk to the security room, using them as a key to get inside and pap pap pap... The bouncer and two guards inside went down without much struggle. They’ll be online sometime later with no memory of what happened, and along with Vortex deleting any footage of himself on the cameras, it'll be like he was never here.

That I gave everything that I had to give Then it's all I could've asked for I've been standing up beside everything I've ever said, but Oh, it's Saturday night, yeah

He has a couple of minutes before the required comm check is needed, and that gives him enough time to scan the monitors, searching for a certain somebody who slipped his grasp. A target that should have bled out during their first and supposedly last interaction. The Combaticon can almost feel the sting of the needle in his neck from that night. Making him want to scratch it but keeping his servos busy with the knife. His focus is set on the screens determined to catch the fragger and finish this job so he can prepare for a specific spark-filled holiday.

Vortex swings his legs off the console to stand up, then places a servo onto it when leaning in and spots the mech on one of the cameras as they walk into view out of a blind spot with guards all around him. Of course. Obviously, security would be upgraded after the failed assassination attempt the first time.

I pray for the wicked on the weekend Mama, can I get another amen? Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, it's Saturday night, yeah

The knife is twirled in his servo as he turns to make his way toward one of the guards passed out closest to the door. Then drags them over to press their servo against the scanner to get him out of the room. The target has been found and he needed to move quickly before he loses track of them again.

Swear to God, I ain't ever gonna repent Mama, can I get another amen? Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,

As the door opens, the last thing he recalls is his visor, and one audial picking up a click and flash of a shotgun blast.

Oh, it's Saturday night, yeah.

[rigelmejo]

Reading Chinese is a bit of an odd up down roller coaster experience sometimes and I Know it’s because as a learner like. The process is like this: you don’t know things and are confused and feel completely drowning, you notice some things you didn’t understand and it feels like a slog but you have an idea of what to do, you are less confused and excited and it feels easier

Then it repeats. You realize there’s still stuff you don’t understand (now that the euphoria of recognizing the previous stuff has been worn down by this New Draining Confusion). You try to figure out what some of the things you don’t understand are - it feels like a slog as you realize HOW MUCH you didn’t know and need to figure out. You manage to figure some of it out - reading feels bizarrely easy again and a breeze compared to what you just went through now. The things you didn’t recognize/recognized/figured out are now almost intuitely easy to follow.

Then it happens AGAIN lol.

—

Obviously each new cycle of it is a good thing. Since it means you’ve learned new things. And even when you do hit the “draining confusion” it means at least you’re now understanding enough stuff “below that level” that you can even notice and focus on this new level of stuff being confusing to you. And the slog of learning after, is you able to work on learning stuff you couldn’t learn previously because you weren’t even noticing it before, etc. So it’s all a good thing.

But wow does it feel confusing from a learners perspective lol. You feel like you’ve reached some nice level of comprehension that feels good - then because you still have more to learn, you hit the next “never mind this is CONFUSING” stage and it feels like you’ve made NO gains. Even though you have.

—

Yes this is about 那些风化雪月 lol. So I started that novel, as you know, at the start of November. For whatever reason, each page was a slog and I struggled to get through the half I did finish - and I definitely only followed the gist and Some details fuzzily. Even though I was using a dictionary, it was still SO confusing and draining to me.

So. I stopped that novel for now. And I went back to 寒舍 the other day. Now, last time I read 寒舍 last month it was a slog but an enjoyable one because it was interesting. If I say 那些风化雪月 was an 8/10 (easy vocabulary but a decent amount to lookup, hard writing style for me to follow, hard for me to care about plot) for hard for me to push through, then 寒舍 is a 7/10 (harder vocabulary when I started and Tons of new words, but more interesting and easier writing style for me to read once I got used to its long sentences).

Which, as a comparison, Priest novels would be an 8-9/10 (enjoyable plot, writing style I can follow, but so drowning in vocab I cannot read unless I know a rough context of the plot already). And a Priest novel I have never read in a bit-modern setting would probably be a 9-10/10.

My point is, 寒舍 was quite hard for me to read last month. I just really enjoyed the plot, so I was able to stay motivated as I pushed through each chapter. As another comparison - when I started 寒舍， the novel 他们的故事 would be a 5/10 in difficulty (some unknown words, but with a dictionary completely readable quickly, engaging plot, easy writing style to follow). If I’d already read the chapter, then a 2/10 difficulty (just slightly harder than a graded reader).

Well I went back to 寒舍 the other day. It is now a 5/10 difficulty wise. Which I am blown away by. There are still new words, but at a pace now where theoretically I could guess from context and follow the plot without a dictionary (like 他们的故事). Previous chapters I’ve already read are now around a 4/10 difficulty (a lot of unknown words I’ve looked up before I still haven’t quite learned yet, but I picked up enough the chapters are now much easier to skim and follow for main plot without a dictionary). So 寒舍 is MUCH easier than the last time I read it! I am blown away frankly because now the chapters are taking probably 20 minutes now (they took 30-45 minutes to read before). I’m able to read a lot more without needing the dictionary.

So I suppose my point is... while I felt I was slogging unpleasantly through 那些风化雪月 and struggling to just follow the plot, maybe somehow it did help my reading skills improve still. Because going back to 寒舍 it is clear I’ve made some reading comprehension progress. This story is way easier than it was last time, noticeably. And not just because it “feels” easier in comparison to the slog I just went through. Even in comparison to last time I was reading 寒舍, I can now read through a few paragraphs at a time without looking up a word - whereas before it WAS at least one word a sentence if not more.

I went back to 他们的故事 last night just to see where that is at too - and it’s difficulty is now easily a 3-4/10 in difficulty. I see a few unknown words, but it’s only a bit harder then a graded reader, and I could likely follow most details and the full general plot without a dictionary. So like... I guess thank you 那些风化雪月??? I suffered through you but like?? Clearly me pushing through the confusion must’ve helped me pick up some kind of words or sentence parsing skills I needed...

Also, as a test, I tried to read the first chapter of a novel I was looking at reading eventually: 魔尊要抱抱. I figured this would be good because 1 I think it looks cool and 2 it has a manhua so if it’s too hard to read (like 破云 is) then I can go to the manhua to read and have more pictures for context.

Well I started chapter 1 of 魔尊要抱抱and knew almost every word. Around the level of a graded reader to 他们的故事 as far as how easy it was to read. I literally only looked up one word every several paragraphs, and I don’t think I saw any Hanzi I couldn’t at Least guess the pinyin correctly for. I was sort of floored it was that approachable as reading material. But I suppose... not too surprised? It gives me the feel of both svsss (which is a bit challenging for me to read vocab wise but doable) and ttwtadsl (which is pretty good level for me to read with a dictionary comfortably). So the fact it falls somewhere on the more comprehensible end for me isn’t too surprising. Anyway I am. Quite excited!! I didn’t expect it to be this managable to read!

I am currently in the “everything feels easier to read stage” of learning and wow is it a joy and refreshing and so comforting feeling. ToT also I am happy that. I guess whatever random stuff I’ve been doing these past months, I am noticeably managing to expand my vocab and Hanzi recognition. So I’m glad the random reading has been accomplishing that progress. (And I think the listening reading method variations I’ve done has been helping with upping my listening comprehension steadily, although slower). So wooh! For now I will just keep coasting by on reading stuff, and listening-reading, and see how far it gets me in a couple months.

[neon-junkie]

Ok so going off the fic with the batch taking your suppressors every once in a while, how would they be if you wind up going into heat? Would they do like a group session or assuming the heat takes a few days would they take turns? You've got this thought living in my head rent free

I do plan on writing a full fic where you go into heat, but for now, here are some thoughts. (gender-neutral reader)

I was meant to briefly write a few things for this, but uh, this is 2k words... sorry, not sorry hehe.

---

So, it all comes down to what your heat is actually like. Is it a single day thing? Does it last for a few days? Are you somewhat stable? Or are you a complete and utter mess? Are you whiny and desperate? Or snappy and demanding? So many factors to consider!

Either way, the Batch is going to help. They'll do a mixture between a group session, and taking it in turns. They chalk up a rota, and spend a few hours with you every day, taking care of your needs, however you see fit.

The first shift is spent with Hunter, of course. He's going into this blind, just like everybody else, since Tech can only find so much about your heats. You've not had one in years, so you're also uncertain on how things will go.

Hunter is extremely caring. He's heavily concerned, not just for your physical needs, but for your mental wellbeing. Hunter needs to make sure that your heat doesn't scramble your brain too much, and the second you show signs of things becoming overwhelming, he's there.

At first, he attempts to be calm and caring. He'll fetch water when needed, and ensures that you're eating, whenever you can stomach food. Hunter won't come onto you until you ask, and even then, he's still soft and gentle. Fuck, he's worried he's going to hurt you - you're hyper sensitive right now, so every touch feels tenfold.

It isn't until Hunter removes your underwear that he realises just how bad you are. Fucking hell, you stink, and Hunter has to shut his eyes and let out a deep breath as he attempts to calm himself. Curse his heightened senses, they're really not helping right now.

He wants to relieve you with his fingers and mouth, he wants to hold back as much as possible, but no matter what he does, it's not enough. You need to be full, over-flowing, stuffed to the brim, and after hours of listening to you beg, he finally snaps. Hunter swiftly fees his cock, leaving the rest of his armour still on, and pulls your knees up over his shoulders. He folds you in half, mating press style, and lets out a heavy sigh as he slides into your slick heat.

Even now, Hunter's trying so hard to be careful and gentle, but you're clawing at his armoured back, whining and moaning his name, and he decides that fuck it, he's going to pound this heat out of you, or at least attempt to. Hunter manages to keep you busy for a few rounds, enough to stabilise your heat for a few hours, until he eventually has to tap out from exhaustion.

His shift is up, thank the Maker, and he crawls back to his room due to exhaustion, leaving poor Echo to take over where he's left off.

Echo, like Hunter, attempts to be calming and gentle with you. It doesn't take a genius to realise that Hunter's just spent the last few hours tending to your needs, mainly because the air stinks of sex, but for now, you're stable.

Echo has a nap with you, letting you curl up against his chest, huddled under the warmth of your blankets. Thankfully, you manage to get some rest, only to wake up hours later with that throbbing pain between your thighs again. Your whimpers wake Echo up, and he's greeted to the sight of you mewling in his arms, grinding yourself against his thigh as your heat worsens as every second passes.

Sadly, Echo isn't entirely sure what to do. He's not hooked up with anyone since before Skako Minor, and despite not losing his cock in the blast, he hasn't really touched himself since then. He considers himself to be inexperienced, somewhat of a virgin, and he can't keep eye contact as he explains that to you. However, he insists that he wants to help, he just needs you to take the lead.

Despite the overwhelming desire to mate, you manage to suppress your needs, enough to give Echo the reassurance that he requires. This time, you're the one being gentle as you straddle him, slowly undressing him whilst you make out. Echo is the one whimpering as you slide down onto him, holding yourself steady until he gives you the signal to move.

Fuck, you're aching, burning up between your thighs, but you continue fighting your natural urges. Echo notices this, and encourages you to pick up the pace, telling you that he's content and relaxed with how things are going. You trust him, and you know that if he needs you to stop, he'll tell you to. With that knowledge in mind, you pick up your pace.

To your surprise, Echo begins bucking up into you. Your heat is so damn tight, wet, slick, and ah- Echo only manages to last a single round. Knowing that you're aching right now, he swiftly cleans himself up, and leaves a gentle kiss on your forehead as he tells you that he's going to get you more help.

Tech is surprisingly not on his holopad as he enters your room. He's somewhat formal, informing you that he's here to tend to your needs, and help however possible. You're biting back a laugh, but your cheeky smile is wiped off your face as Tech shows you the little device that he's been working on this whole time.

It's some sort of vibrator. You're able to attach it wherever you need it to go, and Tech helps fasten it in place, smirking to himself when the device turns on, and you instantly let out a groan. It's perfect, stimulating you enough to keep most of the heat down, but you're still aching to be filled up.

Tech has no problem filling in that role, and informs you that mating press is the perfect position to hit all the right spots. He swiftly strips down before manhandling you into position, and wastes no time sliding into you, letting out a groan as his cock begins filling you up. Of course, Tech's thrusts are calculated and accurate, paying attention to how you react to different angles, speeds, and so on. You tell him exactly what you want, and Tech delivers.

With Tech's accuracy, and the vibrating device working away, you reach peak multiple times, as does Tech. He fills you up, over and over, until you're overflowing with his (and the others) loads. Tech can't help but push his leaking release back into your hole, making a smug comment about how you seem to be so desperate to be filled up, yet you can't even hold onto what he gives you? Tut tut.

He's sweating by the time you two are finished, both out of breath, exhausted, and somewhat stable. Tech makes quick work of cleaning both of you up, and doesn't bother redressing as he crawls into your bed, pulling you tightly against his chest. Your heat is far from over, but for now, you can enjoy some more rest, before the next Batcher comes along to tend to your needs.

Wrecker is up next, and thankfully, he brings food! Haven just woken up, your heat hasn't returned to its agonizing state, so for now, you can enjoy some snacks whilst you and Wrecker mindlessly chat away.

After snacks and a cuddle, your heat begins building up once more, and Wrecker seems surprisingly eager to help you out. You've spent the last day being pounded over and over, leaving your hole open and leaking, giving Wrecker an advantage when he slips his thick cock into you. The others have filled you up perfectly, but Wrecker is something else, boarder lining painful. He remains still as you adjust to his size, and when you're ready, he goes slow.

However, Wrecker holding back and going slow only seems to make you worse, and you practically have to beg to get him to speed up. He knows he's big, and he doesn't want to hurt you, but seeing as you're almost in tears from the sensation between your thighs, Wrecker decides to pick up the pace.

When Wrecker delivers, he delivers, and goes above and beyond to help you out in any way possible. He's worth the stretch, and his massive frame is doing things to you, peering up through your hazy eyes to see nothing but Wrecker, towering over you, keeping you pinned beneath him as he fucks you senseless.

Wrecker's grunting and moaning as he cums, and he only needs to stop for a few, brief seconds before picking up speed again. How he can fuck like this is a mystery to you, but you're not going to ask questions, especially when you're this cock-dumb.

Finally, after hours of progress, and days of your overall heat, the burn is slowly starting to settle down, and it's only taken four men to help you out! Wreckers' load spill out of you when he finally pulls out - not like your bed isn't already soaked. He wraps you in a blanket and settles you on the floor as he pulls on some light clothing and strips your bedding, insisting on cleaning up before the final person takes over his shift.

When your bed is remade, you're left bundled up in it, and Wrecker ensures that he's smothered you in more than enough kisses before leaving your room.

Crosshair takes a while to arrive, and you almost drift back to sleep whilst waiting. He's brought you some water, and helps you up as he hands it over. He doesn't say anything, at first, but when he finally speaks, all he tells you is that your room stinks. Like, it reeks, and it's drifted out and smothered the entire ship. Crosshair is laughing as he tells you that Hunter has had to camp outside, as the smell is really getting to him, but Crosshair is here to finish things off.

Crosshair makes a comment about how you've saved the best for last, and places the kindest, most tender kiss you've ever felt on your temple, before he shrugs the blanket to you and gets to work. Whilst the others have been gentle in their own ways, Crosshair isn't - he knows what you need, and he's insistent that he's going to be the one who fucks this heat out of you.

Crosshair wants you on all fours, head down, ass up, wrists pinned behind your back. You're still stretched out from Wrecker's thick length, and Crosshair's chuckling as he slides in, making comments about how fucked out you are, about how you need five different men to satisfy you, about how needy and forgetful you must be if you forgot to take your supplements.

As Crosshair's pounding into you, you can feel everybody's previous loads being pushed from your hole, dripping onto the bed. Ugh, the covers are going to need changing again, but that chore disappears from your mind as Crosshair slips two of his fingers in alongside his cock, fingering you as he fucks you in an attempt to keep you full.

He can't help but make even more comments, both praising and mocking you for how well you're taking his fingers and cock. After the first set of orgasms, Crosshair flips both of your bodies over, and lays back on your bed. He has you lie on him, your back against his chest, and he holds your legs up against your shoulders as he begins fucking up into you.

Crosshair is grunting against your ear, leaving the occasional mark on your neck. He's not holding back - why would he? This is what you need, and Crosshair's here to supply it. One hand moves from your legs and wraps around your throat, whilst the other slips between your thighs to touch you feverishly. He's ordering you to cum for him, demanding it, and the final orgasm that you have almost causes you to black out.

During your hazy, fucked-out state, Crosshair carefully rolls you off him, and begins taking care of you. He cleans you up, helps you put some light clothing on, and curls up into bed beside you. Crosshair's large frame wraps snugly around you as he takes the position of big spoon, planting gentle kisses on your shoulder as he asks how you're feeling.

Finally, your heat is over, and now comes the following soreness from being fucked silly over the past few days. Oh well, it was fun, and maybe now you'll learn to take your supplements regularly?

[jimlingss]

(sorry my tumblr app glitched so im not sure if this was sent twice) taking a chance for the requests! how about a seokjin or namjoon arranged marriage au with this: “Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.” 🎄 happy holidays!!

↳ Playground Promises

1.9k || 100% Light Fluff || Kim Seokjin

The bell rings.

Moments later, children are sprinting from the doors and flooding the playground. You watch in fondness as some climb the monkey bars while others sit and dig into the sandbox. All of them were forging their first friendships they’ll remember forever and you were their witness.

This is one of your favourite times of day. You enjoy seeing the kids have their fun, listening to their laughter and giggles, watching their games of tag to play pretend. But today, your enjoyment is interrupted by a certain male teacher that comes to stand behind you.

Tall. Dark. And handsome. His broad shoulders carry the weight of the third-grade class and practically the entire elementary school. But you’d never admit that out loud.

“It’s a bit chilly out today. You should’ve brought your coat with you.”

You hum.

Every staff member, married and single, swoons over Kim Seokjin. It’s hard not to. But if others knew what your relationship was with him, you’re sure you’d never hear the end of it. The kids would make a big fuss and so would all the staff and faculty, and you’d rather avoid that.

“I didn’t know you were on playground duty today.”

“I switched with Sana,” he says and leans over to smile. “Thought you could use some company.”

You scoff. “She’s perfectly fine company.”

The corner of his plump lip pulls. “If you want to talk about the mathletes program. And I’m pretty sure you don’t.”

Before you can respond, a boy approaches the two of you with pink cheeks and wind-swept hair. “Mr. Kim, can I go to the bathroom?” the third-grader asks in the midst of catching his breath and the older man nods.

“Go ahead. But don’t run in the hallway, Lucas.” 

Said boy grins and dashes off.

Seokjin turns to you and lowers his voice. “My mom’s been asking about the kids.”

Your brows furrow. “Why? They’re a good bunch.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t mean your class’ kids, I mean our kids.”

You blink owlishly. “There are no our kids.”

“That’s the problem.”

You sigh and roll your eyes. “Wasn’t getting married enough for them?”

Seokjin shrugs with a faint, mischievous smile. “They want to go out for brunch with your parents this Sunday. Are you free?”

“When am I not free?” you retort lightly, but slip your phone out of your pocket to check your calendar anyhow. Seokjin glances over to your screen and once you finish, you slip it back into your pocket. “I have some marking to do, but I’ll probably finish by then.”

“Okay.” The pair of you turn back to continue monitoring the children playing and you’re glad to revel in the silence that’s been created between you. But after a beat, Kim Seokjin pipes up again. You don’t know why you’re surprised. He’s quite the talkative guy. “Hey, Y/N.”

You look over and he meets your eye.

He asks, “Am I your lock screen?”

Your face heats. If you were once cold, now you were warm from head to toe. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” you mumble. It was just a picture from the other day and you wanted to change things up on your phone. You had nothing else to use. It was convenient. That’s it.

Your entire relationship with him is built on convenience. At least...on his side it is.

Still, Seokjin grins and fortunately, he doesn’t tease.

You rush to change the subject. “A-Anyway, yeah, Sunday works for me. But we should probably talk about this after work.”

“Why? No one’s around.” His smile is spread from ear to ear and he leans in, whispering, “Are you that scared of people finding out we’re married?”

Immediately, you whip your head in all directions. Luckily, there’s no kid or nosy faculty member. You turn back to him, glaring. “I already said, I like to keep my private life under wraps.”

“I remember. But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were embarrassed of me.”

You scoff and a murmur unintentionally spills out of you, “That’s impossible.”

You don’t notice Seokjin’s smile.

It’s been three months since you got married. It was a summer wedding. More importantly, it was an arranged marriage. And not because you were both wealthy and needed to be wedded to get the inheritance under some arbitrary contract rule or because it was your grandmother’s dying wish. No. You live a much more mundane, normal life than the dramas, movies and books.

It was your mom who threw a fuss. She was scared you’d be alone and unmarried, an old maid like your aunt — you didn’t say it, she just heavily implied it. But following her practically senile meltdown, you agreed. Partly to appease her worries and partly just out of curiosity.

You always wanted to get married. And deep down, you always wanted your own kids. But at the rate you were going, you had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to meet someone on your own.

What you didn’t expect on that blind date was for the other person to be Kim Seokjin, third grade teacher. Down the hall from you at the school. Someone across the room every lunchtime. Your dads were apparently long time colleagues, but Jin was still as equally shocked as you were during that first meeting. Yet, he easily agreed to getting married when you brought it up. Even when it was only after two months of occasionally seeing one another outside of your workplaces.

You still don’t know why he said yes.

“Ms. L/N!”

You’re torn out of your trance by a little girl at your knees. 

She pouts. “Jennie won’t let me play on the slide!”

“Did you ask her to share?”

“Yes!”

Before any more can be said, she drags you over and Seokjin trails after you. There’s another girl with brown braided hair climbing on the slide, and she swivels her head over as the two of you approach, eyes the size of saucers. 

“Are you taking turns, Jennie?” you ask her, and she vigorously nods.

“I am!”

“Well, you’ve been on it for a while. How about Lisa takes a turn next.”

“Okay,” she draws out and gets off of the slide before turning to her friend. “Here you go.”

It’s always little problems you have to solve — from sharing to knee scrapes and monkey bar accidents. Sometimes it’s difficult for the children to compromise, difficult for them to apologize and difficult for you to find a good solution. But you undoubtedly wish your own issues were this simple.

While you’re stuck in your thoughts, you miss Jin watching you fondly. 

“You’re good with kids,” he says as you move out of the way of running children and walk back to the perimeter.

“I wouldn’t be doing this job if I wasn’t. But I deal with older kids much better.” There’s a reason you teach fifth graders and not any lower than that. Seokjin knows it too.

“Remember when we had to supervise that kindergarten class together?”

You shudder. “It was a nightmare.”

“You weren’t that bad,” he tries to say but then laughs. You feign a glare, and he adds on, “Okay. I’m sorry, but I still mean it. It’s not as terrible as you thought. You’d make a good mom.” 

At that, your glare vanishes in favour of furrowing brows. You really shouldn’t, but you can’t help it when curiosity pries — so you break your own rule against discussing private matters at work. 

“Do you want my kids?”

Seokjin is wide-eyed and he turns to you. “Why not? We’re married.”

“Yeah….but…”

“But? Do you not want kids?” 

“No! I definitely want them,” you declare, almost a bit too boldly. He nods and you explain, “It’s just...I don’t know if you’re serious.”

Seokjin blinks. “I’m being perfectly serious.”

“I mean I don’t know if we’re serious.” You add, “Enough to have kids.”

“What’s more serious than being married?” Jin has a genuinely inquisitive and amused expression, head quirked to the side. 

You inhale a sharp breath and his gaze coaxes you to go on, so you do. “It’s just that you agreed so quickly to be married to me. It doesn’t….feel real. I don’t know if you wanted to marry me, if you did it on a whim, if this is some kind of joke—”

He frowns. “This isn’t a joke, Y/N. I wanted to marry you.”

Your mouth hangs open. Your eyes are rounded.

“Wh—”

“Mrs. L/N!” You’re interrupted by your fifth-grader, Park Jimin. He sprints to you, huffing and puffing, before leaning his hands onto his knees to catch his breath. “Have you seen Taehyung?! We’re playing tag!”

“No, I haven’t.”

Jin suddenly points to the left. “He went that way.”

Jimin books it.

Silence fills the spaces between you and Seokjin again, but it isn’t like normal. It’s filled with unanswered questions and the suspenseful cliffhanger of an unfinished conversation. The laughter of kids on the playground and field resound around you, but for the first time, you don’t listen to it. 

It fades into the background as you turn to Seokjin, wanting to know more. “What did you just say?”

The man smiles softly. “You have to know.”

“I don’t,” you assert. “So tell me.”

“I’ve always liked you.”

You blink and he continues, “Since you substituted for the art teacher and I saw you squirt red paint all over yourself. It’s something I couldn’t forget. Plus, the way you draw those stick people.” Seokjin laughs heartily and you’re trapped in your spot, unsure of how to react or what to say. He reads your expression and softens. “Did you really think I would rush into a marriage if I didn’t have feelings for you?”

“I…” Your mouth is agape. “I don’t know. Why did we never talk about this?”

Seokjin shrugs. “You never asked and I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable if you didn’t feel the same way. I knew you married me for convenience.”

“That’s not true,” you retort within a beat. This whole time, you thought he married you for convenience sake. But it wasn’t entirely like that for you.

Seokjin’s eyes are big and you swallow down your embarrassment. “Isn’t it obvious every single breathing person loves you? It’s hard not to.”

Slowly but surely, a grin spreads into Seokjin’s puffy cheeks and he’s smiling from ear to ear again. “Well, you’re very good at hiding it then.”

Suddenly, the bell rings.

All the children reluctantly climb off the equipment, some dusting their hands while others grabbing their friends, and they rush into their lineups. There’s a few stranglers lugging their legs while groaning. But busy in their small playground worlds, no one turns around to notice you leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to Seokjin’s mouth. It’s shy and brief, like the first peck exchanged between two for the first time. And you pull away just as fast, lips left tingling.

“We can continue this later, Mr. Kim.”

You stride off while Seokjin’s left smiling. After a breathless moment, he chases after you like children who have just made promises of their first love on the playground.

[cursestothemoon]

Parents, Presents, and Girlfriends

Requested: yes

Hermione x fem! gryffindor! reader

Warnings: suggestive towards the end, also a steamy kiss towards the end, mentions of food

Summary: Hermione is nervous to meet her girlfriends parents and spend the Christmas holiday with them, but quickly she realizes how silly she was. That and her girlfriend was cross-eyed as a baby.

also i didn’t edit this due to pure laziness so i am sorry 

Word Count: 2301

***

“Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, meeting your parents is one thing but spending the holiday with them? What if I make a terrible first impression, then they are stuck with me for two weeks? What then?”

The way Hermione paced as she rambled made you chuckle, her eyebrows shooting up and falling down every so often.

“I think you are overthinking it, Mione. They’ll love you.” Your tone was confident.

She gave you a look asking if you were sure and you giggled as you stood up. You made your way over to her, taking her hands and bringing them to your lips. Hermione seemed to relax, her shoulders slumping, as you ran her knuckles across your lips before gently placing a few kisses on them.

“Trains leaving soon, love, I think we should get ready to go.”

Hermione nodded going to grab her bags- they had been packed since last week- and you made your way to your things, shoving in a few last minute socks and knickers before zipping it up. You grabbed Hermione by the hand, and you two walked out of your shared dorm, chatting until arriving at the train.

The train ride was spent in a compartment with Ron and Harry, both going to the Burrow for Christmas, and a plethora of sweets.

“Sixth year, can you guys believe it?” Ron asked munching on a chocolate frog leg.

Harry swallowed Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Bean, the grimace he sported was a dead giveaway that it was not a prefered flavor, before answering, “Remember when we flew the car to school?”

Ron nodded with a fond smile but it was Hermione’s voice that came out, “That was the most idiotic thing you two have ever done.”

“Oh don’t act all high and mighty now, that was when you met Y/n.” Harry teased, nudging his head in your direction.

Hermione turned crimson as she bowed her head with a small smile. Your hand found hers on the seat and gave it a squeeze.

“Yeah, you two weren’t around to make me look bad.” Hermione said, remembering the first train ride with you and how quickly you two had become best friends.

It was true, you two quickly became friends during second year, yet neither of you were able to actually identify your feelings as romantic until fourth year. Both of you had gone to the Yule Ball with a date, Hermione with Viktor Krum and you with Dean Thomas. The Ball was fun, though the jealousy spewing in both your hearts put a bit of a damper on things, fortunately the night ended with you two snogging in your dorm before any of the other girls got back. Surely they put two and two together when they got back however, lipstick smudged, dresses just slightly askew, and hair frazzled.

After the infamous night, you two had started dating. Now you had convinced her to spend Christmas holiday with you and your family, wanting your parents to meet the girl you were certain you were going to marry. Hermione had no reason to be worried, unbeknownst to her, your parents already knew all about her- perhaps a bit too much- from the countless letters you’ve written them gushing about your girlfriend.

“What if they don’t like me? Or-or, oh I don’t know! Does my hair look alright?” Hermione fumbled, hands shooting up to comb down her already neat hair- she had done it during the train ride.

“Your hair looks good, and they will like you. Try mentioning S.P.E.W.” You winked, walking out of the compartment.

Hermoine rushed after you, “Don’t leave me! I’m nervous, take my hand.”

You shook your head with a giggle, offering your hand to her as you waited for her to catch up. She took it gratefully, walking in stride with you to the now open door of the train that led to the platform 9 ¾.

The platform was buzzing with families, all bundled up for winter, greeting their children. A rush of excitement filled your being as you looked for your parents, turning to catch a glimpse of Hermione whose eyes were wide and smile, nervous.

“Y/n! Hermione! Over here!” It was your mum’s voice.

“Merlin, she knows my name.” Hermione mumbled to herself.

You chuckled, pulling Hermione by the hand to where your mum was waving at you two from a little ways down the platform. Upon reaching your mother, Hermione was pulled into a hug leaving you to gasp in feigned offence.

“I am your daughter you know?”

“And I’m your mother. Now that we’ve got titles out of the way let me greet your girlfriend.” Your mom waved you off turning to look at Hermione.

Hermione smiled, a bit overwhelmed by the aggressive hug, “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. L/n. Merry Christmas.”

“Call me Y/m/n, and it’s even lovelier to meet you. Y/n doesn’t shut up about you in her letters, you’re featured in every single one.”

“Mum.” You groaned, cheeks starting to heat up.

Hermione laughed, the knots in her stomach finally starting to loosen. Your mum seemed to take to her quickly, leaving you to grab most of the luggage. Hermione tried to protest, offering to help but your mother initiated you had it taken care of and she wrapped an arm around your girlfriend's shoulders starting a conversation about school, you presume.

“Yeah, I’m fine, not to worry.” You grumble, finally getting the five bags you were left with off the floor and comfortable enough for you to walk with.

“Carry the bags, Y/n. Let me get to know your girlfriend, Y/n. You can handle it.” You mimicked as you three finally made it to the car, your father sitting at the wheel before catching sight of you three and jumping out.

“Girls! Sorry I wasn’t at the platform, your mum thought it best if we bombarded Hermione one parent at a time.” He smiled, grabbing the bags from your hands quickly.

He watched you drop them with a huff, “Why’d you carry ‘em all, Y/n?”

“Oh you know, just trying to impress Hermione.” You said sarcastically, making him laugh as he shoved the bags into the trunk of the vehicle.

Your dad was a muggle, as muggle as they come really. He had a modest childhood, only ever getting what he needed, wants and luxuries saved for the children who could afford them. Your mother was a pureblood witch, a Gryffindor at that, and had lived in the house just a town over from your father’s. They had been together since they were fifteen, married since they were nineteen.

The backseat of the car held you and Hermione, your mum in the passenger seat and your father driving back to the house. The radio emitted a low tune but other than that a comfortable silence filled the car. You reached your hand across the seat, grabbing Hermione’s and giving a gentle squeeze. She turned to you, a smile nearly splitting her face, and her eyes sparkling. Clearly she was having a good time, and maybe carrying the bags all that way was worth it.  

The ride home was quick, the newly fallen snow nearly blinding on the dark, paved roads. Your home coming into view causes a bubble of giddiness to rise into your belly, mum always decorated for Christmas and you could tell she went all out this year. The pathway leading up to the house had six Christmas trees, three on each side and each one sparkling with twinkling white lights and a red bow on top. The house itself was a good size, wedding present from your mother’s side, and had the same white twinkling lights wrapping around it.

“Welcome home.” You teased, grinning at Hermione.

Christmas Eve had gone without a hitch, dinner went exceptionally well. It felt as though Hermione had been a part of the family for ages, her humour, wit, and intelligence melded very well with that of your family’s. It was evident Hermione realized she had been nervous for nothing, a smile had sat gracefully on her face all night and you couldn’t be happier.

After dinner you and Hermioen had broken away from your parents- still chattering in the kitchen- and made your way to the front steps with hot chocolate cradled in each of your hands. You took a sip from your cup, the whip cream finding a nice spot to rest just at the top of your upper lip making the witch next to you let out a laugh.

“Is there something on my face?” Your tone was painfully oblivious.

She laughed again, “Nope, not at all.”

“Good, now give me a kiss, babes.”

You pucker your lips with exaggeration, leaning toward her. She laughed harder trying to lean away from her girlfriend but realized it was a losing battle so she retaliated. Hermioen grabbed your face and pulled you closer to her, only to bring her tongue out and lick a broad stripe over your mouth, collecting the whipped cream.

The shock was evident on your face as you froze for a moment before grimacing theatrically.

“I can’t believe you just licked me.” You muttered, a hand coming up to wipe your mouth.

“You were asking for it.” Hermione shrugged.

You let out a sigh before looking at her, a feigned expression of thinking drawn on your face, “I think now I deserve a proper kiss for that. Only fair.”

Hermione pretended to think for a moment also before she nodded, “You’re right, I think you do.”

She leaned over, pulling your lips to hers in a heated kiss. Her hand went to your waist, pulling at the material of your pants to bring you closer, you let out a quiet whimper at this making her slide her right hand over your backside, groping at the clothed flesh. You deepened the kiss, bringing one hand up to hold her face, the other one resting comfortable around her neck.

Hermione pulled her lips from yours with a smacking sound making you let out a breathy laugh.

“Apology accepted.”

The comment made Hermione snort, a hand coming up to shove your shoulder gently. A few whipped cream mustaches and far more than a few kisses later, both you and Hermione decided to go inside to get warmed up.

Your mother running around with blankets, your father following with pillows- though he’d rather not run- made you raise your eyebrows in curiosity.

“Mum...what are you doing?”

“Getting Hermione’s room ready.”

“Hermione’s...room...ready?” You tried to understand, really you did.

The way you said the words made your dad snort, before going to drop the pillows off in the spare room.

You turned to your mom, “I thought Hermione would be sleeping in my room...you know… with me?”

“People who date can’t sleep in the same room, that was the rule for your brother, that’s the rule for you. No matter how sweet Hermione is, I know you might try some funny business.” She said, a finger pointing at you.

Hermione laughed, knowing just how true it was before assuring, “I’m alright with staying in the spare room it’s alright.”

You groaned and stammered, not unlike a child complaining, “But- but, Hermione and I share a dorm. And! And! Even if there was any funny business, which there won’t be, don't be weird Mum, but if there was it’s not like either of us would get pregnant.”

Your dad gave a loud snort as he watched your mum try to find something to say.

“Well…”

“I mean, she’s not wrong, Y/M/N.” Your dad added, winking at you.

Your mother thought for a moment before giving in, “Alright, I suppose you’re right. But if her snoring gets too loud Hermione, you are more than welcome to switch rooms.”

You scoffed in offence, holding your hand over your heart dramatically, “I do not snore.”

The silence was deafening, and you turned to Hermione, “Don’t feed into this!”

She brushed you off with a smile before turning to your parents, “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”

Your parents bid you two goodnight and made their way to their room, both Hermione and you walking in the direction of yours before your mum called out again.

“Remember, bright and early for presents in the morning! Goodnight!”

“Goodnight!” You and Hermione said in sync before opening the door to your room.

You walked in, Hermione following, and turned just as you heard her close and lock the door.

“Should I be worried?” You joked.

Hermione shook her head with a smirk, “Hope they won’t mind if I have you one of your presents early…” She trailed off as she walked toward you slowly.

“And to think, they thought I would be the one to start the funny business. Unbelievable…”

BONUS:

You sat on the floor in between Hermione’s legs as she sat on the couch, thumbing through a photo album your mum had so graciously given her. Your father handed her a few loose photographs, those were the really embarrassing ones that he liked to keep close, that you really wished he would’ve kept to himself.

Hermione would laugh to herself every so often making you look up from the scarf you were knitting to try and see the picture that brought out that reaction. Unfortunately, your seat was not the most fitting for such so you couldn’t catch the picture. That is until Hermione spoke up.

“You were cross-eyed as a baby. Did you know?”

Suddenly you knew the exact picture she was looking at making you groan, dropping your forehead onto her knee in embarrassment.

taglist:

@amourtentiaa

[feralaot]

GIVE ME. FRIENDSHIP/RELATIONSHIP DYNAMIC HCS

for example AruAni gives off “I hate everybody but I hate you less” energy

literally any duo/trio/group you want just plz. I love them and I have my own ideas but wanna see yours ✌️💋

ohoho here we go.... this is gonna be a long one

AOT pairings + their dynamics

no warnings

eren / mikasa (romantic): the crime fighting duo

they can and they will mess up anyone and everyone who fucks with them. the kind of duo that seems to bond the most when they’re being violent and they want to make you scream “JUST CONFESS YOUR LOVE FOR EACH OTHER, FOOLS” and the slowburn is far too painful on the soul

eren / armin (platonic): the bad guy and the virtuous ray of sunshine

armin is the sweetest creature to grace this world and eren is literally the opposite but somehow they’re compatible. eren acts emotionally unavailable but good god armin brings out even the most buried emotion in him through his blinding rays of obnoxious joy and caring. obviously this didn’t last forever

eren / levi (platonic): the obnoxious child and the tired parent

somebody please give levi a break. it’s difficult being a single mother of six especially when you’re a middle aged man and one of your children is a war criminal.

sasha / connie (open to interpretation): the dumb & dumber mutual enablers

where one goes, the other goes. what trouble one gets into, the other gets into. they enable each other’s chaos and general misdeeds and will sit next to each other in a jail cell awaiting levi to bail them out while giggling and saying “wasn’t that fun?”

sasha / reiner (platonic): the eccentric girl and her emotional support himbo

one is a ball of chaos with a soft spot and the other is (relatively) normal but is also a chaos enabler. they feed off of each other's energy and are just about the closest thing you can get to the human equivalents of a bull and a matador but they also rely on each other for emotional support

armin / annie (romantic): pure looking (but hella shady) and scary looking (but actually a softie)

they are definitely not what either of them appear to be. the gentle little ball of sunshine is actually a scheming bastard and the one that looks like she’ll beat you up just for looking at her the wrong way is actually very soft at heart. and they are in love of course

jean / armin (platonic): the delinquent and the keener

jean used to skip, get bad grades, and get in trouble a lot but eventually worked on becoming a lot better because of armin’s enthusiasm and borderline annoying encouragement. on the other hand armin loosened up a lot and became less strict thanks to jean’s easy going attitude and they help each other improve themselves :’)

jean / connie (platonic): the dumbass and “oh god I guess they’re MY dumbass”

connie is like a dog without a leash and jean is the wrangler that desperately tries to keep him at least relatively tame. although sometimes it’s hard to keep somebody in check while also not wanting to give into their shenanigans and enable them

connie / reiner (platonic): the idiot and the idiot in progress

one has been an idiot since birth and it shows. meanwhile the other is losing more brain cells the more time they spend together. they feed off of each other’s energy and channel it into chaos and misdeeds

historia / ymir (romantic): the loner and the popular chick

historia is one of the few people who actually notices ymir, who doesn’t get the hype about her at first but warms up to her over time. they seem like polar opposites to anyone on the outside so it might be hard to tell that they’re very compatible with each other and lowkey enable each other

hange / levi (open to interpretation): the hooligan and the voice of reason

hange is the big bad conniving bastard and levi is the poor sod that has been dragged into their mess and was hit with a sudden and painful realization that he’s in deep trouble in every possible sense of the word. they are of equal strength except one has rabies

erwin / levi (open to interpretation): the kind giant and the bundle of repressed rage

one will make impulsive decisions on a dime and the other is the only one that can keep him grounded, at least most of the time. one is easy going the other is seething with buried anger and they balance each other out. however both would throw hands if anyone got between them

levi / zeke (open to interpretation): enemies to acquaintances to friends to ???

nobody knows what they truly think about each other and they probably don’t either. they’ll be fighting tooth and nail one moment then probably go out to get lunch an hour later. it’s a bit rocky, but they’ll figure it out eventually

reiner / bertholdt (romantic): two bros chillin in a hot tub 5 feet apart because they won’t confess their undying love for each other

literally everyone can sense the mutual pining from a mile away but they’re both so dense and oblivious for the longest time until they get things sorted and confess. one has too much pride to risk losing and the other is scared to ruin their relationship. this pairing will test both your patience and your sanity

reiner / eren (platonic): rivals to dumbass bros

most of the time they can’t stand each other and will argue with no end in sight but other times they’ll be slumped against each other or one will be sprawled out across the other and they’re having deep conversations and watching tv. it’s really a hit or miss situation

reiner / ymir (platonic): the gay solidarity

the mlm and wlw solidarity is real and it shows. they’re both jerks who only really have each other in terms of close friendships but by all means it’s an unbreakable bond

reiner / armin (platonic): honorarily deemed “one of the boys”

they have some kind of solidarity but neither of them really knows what it is, they just get along really well for some reason. thus reiner has deemed armin officially one of the boys and is included in activities w the boys e.g. movie night. they have a lot of inside jokes

reiner / zeke / bertholdt (platonic): the pining couple and the third wheel

reiner and bertholdt won’t admit it to his face because it would boost his ego tenfold but they’re lowkey kinda scared of zeke. but zeke is just a himbo that kind of hangs around and judges them and can tell they’re in love and is just waiting for the day they admit it

bertholdt / armin (platonic): the pessimist and the optimist

they’re both very pure sweet besties except one is a cynic and the other focuses on all the joy in the world. fill in the blanks.

pieck / porco (open to interpretation): the cinnabun and the hothead

one is too sweet and wholesome to be alive and the other is perpetually angry but is still cute. the contrast shows but they’re still sweethearts that are obviously meant to balance each other out

porco / reiner (platonic): the bastard and the accidental bastard magnet

they started as enemies and slowly evolved into something vaguely reminiscent of... friends? yeah, friends. reiner doesn’t know how he keeps attracting assholes like this but for some godforsaken reason he puts up with it.

[lokilickedme]

Somebody help me chill, this is insane.

(under the cut because long and also pretty traumatic, for me at least)

Crazy neighbor, remember her?  Her son destroyed a piece of equipment we had attached to one of our trees at the fenceline last week, she denied it and called us insane liars - that’s the most recent craziness in the ongoing saga of the neighbor from hell.  I was sitting here reading my dash tonight and happened to glance over at the monitor for the surveillance camera husband got me the other day to watch that exact spot (where the equipment was smashed) and guess who I see bent over looking through the fence peering very closely at that exact spot?  Neighbor’s equally insane son, who we know did the actual dirty work.  And I, stupid like I am, took a screenshot of him and then immediately jumped up and ran outside in the dark in my pajamas (nearly 9pm, pitch black, their porch light is off because obviously they’re doing something they don’t want to be seen doing) and I ask “Excuse me, what are you doing?”

This lunatic immediately starts SCREAMING at me - I mean top of his lungs SCREAMING abusive threats, calling me a stupid psycho whore bitch, yelling at me to get my ass back in my house and generally just acting completely off his rocker unhinged nuts - and then his mother comes out and comes over to the fence and gets in my face while I’m just standing there and tells me to mind my own business.  I say I am minding my business, I saw him looking through the fence at my property right where we had vandalism happen last week so I came out to find out why he’s interested in my property.  She laughed in my face and said “No he wasn’t, he was standing right here looking at his phone like this” and she does this little pantomine of someone looking at their phone, which is funny because she wasn’t out there when he was doing it and there are no windows on that side of her house at all.  I ignored her and asked “What are you looking for?”  He kept screaming incoherent animal noises and insults from behind her so I asked again, “What are you looking for?”  And that crazy woman grinned at me and said “We’re just looking to see what kind of new devices you’ve installed!”

OMG.  She didn’t even take a breath in between lying and then contradicting her own lie.  And she’s grinning smugly at me the entire time, gesturing around pointing at our property cams and mosquito light (it flashes and apparently she thinks it’s watching her) and my bedroom window - which means she’s been snooping.  There is a cam sitting in my windowsill, aimed at the spot where the device was smashed.  Every bit of this equipment is on our property, some of it behind a privacy fence.  I tell her it’s none of her business what kind of devices we’ve got on our property, but she just yammers over me, and of course numbskull is still ranting like a psycho behind her, screaming at me to mind my own business and get back in my house and leave them alone.  At this point he’s pulled out his phone and shoved it over her shoulder toward my face and is recording me, which is just...fucking hilarious...because I’m literally doing nothing but standing there in shock and awe at how nuts these people are, and he’s still screaming abusive curses and names at me while he’s recording.

Anyway, for about 4.5 minutes we stood there with them shouting over me (I know the exact time because it was later discovered that our doorbell cam recorded audio of the entire event) and a little ways into it he screams “I WILL TEAR YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF!!”

At this point psycho woman finally turns around and says “Addison Case!” and pushes him back.  He lunges at me and she tells him to go call the police (??what??  I mean...I wish he had...my phone was in my hand frozen solid, locked up because of the glitchy surveillance app I had to install to see the camera, or else I would have called them myself - but my god they really thought I was the one the cops needed to come for??).  Meanwhile I’m just standing there on my own property in the dark in my pajamas, all 5 feet and 120 lbs of me, while this rabid animal - he’s a 21 year old college boy - is lunging at me and screaming nonstop, calling me a fucking whore bitch loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear it while his phone’s camera light is in my face blinding me.  Crazy lady smiles that smug shit eating grin of hers and tells me to get back in my house, leave her alone, and move the hell away so she can live in peace.

Wow.  Just...holy shit.

This is the person who has allowed her dog to attack my very small 8 year old son on our property and send him to the hospital with injuries last year, then attempt to attack him again 2 weeks ago (he is now 9 at the time of the second attack) - again on our own property (in our back yard this time, in our front yard the first time), has allowed her dogs (multiple) to bark all night long and keep us awake (she leaves them outside and then goes away for the weekend and they bark the entire time she’s gone), then she had her crazy violent son destroy the BarkBox we put in our tree on our side of the fence last week (we put it up as a humane way to get the barking to stop without having to listen to her call us insane liars every time we complain about it).  Yet...she kept repeating over and over and over for us to leave her alone and stop harassing her.

All I could even do was stand there shaking my head.  It was surreal.  And frustrating, because they wouldn’t even let me get a word out without screaming over me, and she was doing that infuriating Karen thing where they shove their hand at your face and grin smugly while they’re telling you what you better do or they’ll call someone to make you.

I actually started laughing, it was so ludicrous.  She’s committed all those vile offenses against us and we’re the ones that need to leave her alone.  We’ve had to file four police reports against her and we’re the ones that are making her life miserable.  I just can’t stop thinking about that Liar Liar movie where the repeat offender keeps calling his lawyer to complain that the cops won’t stop arresting him and the lawyer finally yells THEN STOP BREAKING THE LAW ASSHOLE!!

It’s just like that.  My god.

SO -

She tells him to call the police again, and this limp dick shoves that phone light right up to my face and says “You think she’s worth calling the cops over?  Look at her, she don’t look worth it to me.”  And bitch starts laughing.  My god, these people are subhuman, I swear.  I’ve never seen anyone act like this in my life, over a person doing literally nothing to them.

So she finally orders her rabid son (who is just about foaming at the mouth, I swear he’s making these barking animal noises at me, it’s weird as hell) into the house and they walk away, with him still ranting like a madman until the door closes behind them.  I immediately go inside my own house and call my husband, who was way out at the back of our property in our camper (he self quarantines each day after work out there to protect us because there have been a lot of covid cases at his workplace) and he didn’t know anything was happening.  He immediately runs up to the house and I tell him I caught neighbor’s thug son messing around at our fence and that when I went out he threatened to kill me.

Tom grabs something - I don’t even know what it was, I think it was this piece of board that was sitting by the door, we’ve done a shelving project recently and a couple of leftover pieces have been there for a few days - and he stalks outside toward neighbor’s house.  I hear him yell COME OUT HERE BOY!!! and I stg you guys, if I wasn’t on the phone calling 911 I might have thought about getting naked right there and then because damn.

So anyway, let’s not go there.  This is serious by god lol (look for this to show up in a fic soon though because material like this doesn’t get handed to you for free every day).

I call 911 and say the neighbor’s son just threatened my life and for them to come quick because he’s still over there but I know he’s going to leave any second (this is his mom’s M.O, the two times the police have tried to go talk to her she gets in her car and leaves before they can get from my house to hers, and I know he’ll do the same because COWARDS).  Tom comes back and says the little pussywillow wouldn’t come out of the house.  He’s breathing fire, you guys.  Pure fucking fire.  I tell 911 to get somebody out quick before the kid leaves, and just about 2 minutes after I hang up he does just that - we see him blast past our house in his truck and he’s gone, and then the police arrive about 3 minutes after.  I’m so mad I can’t see straight.  If they’d been able to see him in the state he was in, they’d have arrested him on sight.

Two squad cars (big SUV’s) pull up and block her driveway with full lights flashing, which makes me laugh because suddenly we’ve got neighbors coming outside to see what’s going on.  I meet the officers outside, and the crazy bitch next door does the same, yelling “Hello Officer!” and waving to them as they’re coming up to my porch.

They talk to me and Tom for a long time, I tell them everything that happened, they interview Big (he and Little were inside the open door and heard it all), we fill out our statements and talk with them more until one officer goes next door to talk to neighbor.  We can hear her dripping her fake sugar and spice while they’re talking on her porch and my husband loses his shit - he heads toward her house and yells “We got the entire thing on recording, don’t even try to lie!  Your kid, threatening to kill my wife?!?”  (he’s referring to the camera in my bedroom window, which actually only recorded about 2 minutes because I don’t have it set up correctly yet, but they don’t know that). The officer yells at him to get back, which, yeah - he shouldn’t have done that, but for god’s sake the woman’s peckerhead son just literally threatened murder on a member of his family, this is the final fucking straw and he’s mad.  And as he’s coming back across the yard the officer that stayed with me points at our new doorbell camera, just freshly installed as of about two weeks ago, and asks if it’s on.  We haven’t even really figured out how to use it yet, but yes, as far as we know it’s on.  The incident happened around the side of the house, but the doorbell records audio.

God bless technology.

I invite the officer inside the house and Tom gets his phone, pulls up the app for the doorbell, and starts skipping through the recording looking for the right timestamp.  Up till this point all they have is me saying the guy screamed a lot of abusive profanities at me and threatened to tear my head off, and they’re taking me serious but probably not that serious, you know?  Neighbors fight all the time, wars start over barking dogs, things get exaggerated, we’ve all seen the TV dramas.

Until Tom finds the segment on the footage and starts playing it to them on his phone.  It’s kind of quiet because we were a good distance away, but you can hear the guy screaming just like I said he was.  The officer asks if we have a speaker we can play it through so he can hear the words more clearly, because he needs proof of threat and that’s entirely in the words.

You guys, I’m tellin’ ya, sometimes you get a chance to fucking SHINE.  My husband is a musician and this cop is asking him if he’s got a good speaker.  So within minutes Tom’s got this huge venue-style amplifier designed for broadcasting music to the back wall of a freaking stadium pulled out into the livingroom and he’s hooking his phone up to it, and then he hits play and the other officer comes back from next door to join us and I can tell by the annoyed look on his face that neighbor bitch has likely charmed him and shed a plethora of persecuted tears and spewed her lies about how we’ve been harassing her forEVER and I think for a second that it’s a total loss now, he’s made his mind up in her favor.

And then...away we go.  Tom cranks the volume on the speaker and they both lean in to listen closely.

Just about a minute into the recording they have their proof - thugnuts screaming I WILL TEAR YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF!!!

Both officers nod, close their notebooks, and the second officer makes a phonecall while the first one turns to me and says “That’s terroristic threatening and it’s a class C felony.  You’re going to need to go to the PA’s office with all the reports you’ve filed against them so far and all your evidence from tonight including that recording and hand it all to them.  They’re likely going to issue a no-contact so that he can’t interact with you ever again.”

This is a victory, but it’s just the first step, and I feel sickeningly disheartened that it’s all in my lap to do everything.  I want them to go demand his whereabouts from his mother and just go get his ass and haul him in.  But no, I have a ton of legwork to do now because these horrible people won’t fucking stop.

After several more minutes of me asking questions about what exactly we need to do and where we need to go, etc etc (I’m competent but I’m also fucking rattled, someone threatened to kill me tonight and I’m blanking hard on the instructions he’s giving me) they finally wrap it up and leave.  They’ve been in my house for a half hour waiting for me to finish filling out the report (I had to ask for more paper because honey I’m getting ALL the details in there) and I can just imagine how freaked out neighbor is when she sees what time they finally move their cars from in front of her driveway.

And now I’m coming down from the weird calm that I had through the entire event, and my heart feels like it’s going to EXPLODE.  I had heart surgery two months ago, do I need this??  The pathetic part is that I know now just how stupid those people are, and I know this won’t be the end from their side by any means.  We’ll start finding more stuff broken, or he’ll start climbing over the fence back at the back of the property to steal stuff from husband’s tool shed, or my tires will get slashed.  These people are that dumb and hateful, they proved it tonight.  He said if we had animals he would kill them, and then he made the same threat against me.  How stupid does a person have to be to stand there with his phone out recording himself ranting and making threats against a woman standing in her own yard in her pajamas?  Big tough man there.  And his mama grinning at me the whole time, telling me I’m crazy and she’s concerned for her own safety because of me, while her son is standing right behind her threatening my life.

I’m just...my god, I don’t even know what to think.  I thought people only acted like this in TV dramas, seriously.  I’ve seen some shit in my life but this particular brand of stupid has up till now evaded me, but now it’s been in my face and I’m sort of in shock.

I don’t like guns.  At ALL.  Tom has always had at least one hidden carefully away, safely locked up away from the house, but now there are two inside my house in immediate grabbing range.  He insisted that I let him show me how to use them.  Rules were laid down for the boys - never touch, never, don’t even get close to them - and now there is a box of shotgun shells on my fireplace mantel and a singleshot rifle by the door.  I hate this so damn much.

Don’t pick it up unless you’re ready to use it, he told me.  Without even thinking, I said back, “If I touch it it’s getting used.”

I HATE THIS SO FUCKING MUCH

My god.  I told the cops that the drug lord that lived over there four years ago was a better neighbor than this woman.  They didn’t even laugh.

I guess they’re right, now that I think about it...it isn’t funny.

[blu-joons]

He Worries About You Overworking ~ Song Mingi

Mingi felt his heart break as he watched you stumble down the stairs, smiling weakly in his direction as you made your way to the sofa. He quickly stood up, grabbing a blanket, and moving some of the cushions to make a bit of space for you.

Your voice was barely audible as you thanked him for making the space for you, laying yourself across the full length of the sofa, letting go of a sigh of relief.

“You were asleep for hours,” he sighed, taking a seat on the floor beside the top of your head, “I’m beginning to worry Y/N, this is really doesn’t feel like something goof to be happening.”

You’d been working hard recently as work got busy with deadlines for you to reach, no matter how much they took out of you, it was too important for you to give up on. All of the time you spent on work had a severe knock-on effect on your life at home too, you barely had any time for Mingi, and when you did, you usually spent it fast asleep on the sofa or tucked up in bed.

“I didn’t think I was asleep for long, but I didn’t really get much sleep last night,” you informed him, tucking your hand underneath the cushion.

“You’ve not slept in weeks, I thought you were fine, but I’m beginning to worry Y/N.”

You knew Mingi worried about you, your health hadn’t always been in the best condition since you met him, which was something he often struggled with. He tried hard to trust in you and leave you to understand your own body but at times like this, he couldn’t sit back and watch.

“Maybe we need to have a chat with work about what’s going on,” he suggested, but you quickly shook your head. “You’re overworking yourself to a point where you have no life aside from work anymore Y/N.”

Your eyes closed at the sound of his voice bellowing beside you. “It won’t be forever, in a few weeks then all of this will be done, and they’ll be no reason to worry.”

“And what if it’s a few weeks too late?” He challenged, refusing to let the topic drop. “Your body is exhausted, it’s not in the best condition anyway. At what point do you decide that enough is enough and you need to put the focus back on yourself?”

You pressed the cushion tighter against your head, trying to push aside the pain that you were beginning to feel in your head, made worse by the sound of Mingi right by your side.

As much as you knew he cared, you knew at what point you needed to stop. A couple of weeks of exhaustion and stress were something you could deal with if it meant you didn’t face the pressure and anger from everyone at work towards you.

“It’s breaking my heart seeing you struggle Y/N, and don’t even try and convince me that you’re fine. I’ve known you for long enough now to know when you’re far from fine.”

“What can I do?” You asked him, opening your eyes back up. “I’m stuck in the middle of making myself ill and potentially getting the sack from work, how can I choose between the two?”

His head shook gently, “you choose your health every time, no matter what. If work give you the sack, I’ll look after you, but I’d rather look after you here than in hospital at your bedside.”

His words were tough, but they came from a place of love. You were unaware of a tear rolling down your cheek as Mingi reached across to wipe under your eye, quickly removing it.

“I’m not prepared to sit back and watch you waste away once again.”

The first time he watched you fall apart was easily the toughest time of his life, there was no way that Mingi could stand back and watch it happen again, it was hard on you, but it was hard on him too.

“I appreciate how important work is to you Y/N, but how can you work if you can’t even stand on your own two feet for a few minutes before collapsing onto a chair again?”

“I’d make it work, like I always have to.”

“You don’t have to,” he quickly clarified, “there’s always a choice, and I’m begging with you to make the right one before it’s too late. You just have to trust me on this.”

Your head and your heart pulled you in two different directions. You weren’t blind to the fact you were beginning to fall apart, but you were also very aware just how important everything at work was for you to do too.

“I won’t let this drop Y/N,” he added as you fell silent, “I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that you’re alright, I can’t let this happen to you again.”

“What if it already is happening? What if it’s too late?”

He sighed softly, moving closer towards you. “It’s not too late,” he spoke in a much softer tone, “there’s always a chance to turn things around, you can’t possibly think like that.”

“That’s the thing, I’m not thinking,” you groaned, pressing your exposed hand to the top of your head, “I’ve not been able to think for weeks, work fills up my mind.”

“Then let me help you change that, it’s what you have to do.”

Your eyes met his, noticing the sincerity from the very start. “What am I supposed to do Mingi? Maybe I do feel like I’m overworking and falling apart, but where do I go from here?”

As you finally began to admit that you were struggling, his whole body relaxed. One of his arms wrapped over your waist, whilst the other pressed over yours on the top of your head, recognising straight away why it was there.

“Let me handle things, and you just focus on yourself. I’ve always told you that I’ll care for you no matter what, and that’s not going to change now.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, squeezing gently against his hand. “I don’t what I’d do sometimes if I didn’t have you here with me.”

You’d spent a long time fighting all by yourself, which often left you stubborn to help. Mingi knew that if he worked hard enough, he could break you down, it was just about finding that weak spot that would make you recognise how much help you needed.

“How about I start with getting you some pain relief for that headache and then we can think of something?” He suggested, standing up from the floor to had into the kitchen.

“What are we going to do?” You asked as he came back a few moments later with a glass of water and a packet of tablets in hand.

His shoulders shrugged innocently, “I don’t know where we go right now, but if we sit down and take a moment to relax, we’ll come up with something.”

“What do I do about work? What if they get rid of me?”

“I’ve already told you; I’ll look after you. Whatever happens, your health comes first, and then we can think about the future after that.”

“You really want to be the one that looks after me?”

“Of course. That’s all that I ever will do.”

---

Masterlist

[bitbrumal]

             ::  khioniya & [ your childe ]  ↤  OPEN STARTER ::

LIYUE HARBOUR, 13 hours ago.

her majesty the tsaritsa, a brumal vision in liyue’s earthen tones. sunk from the mountainous north to find her wayward heir upon their bloody red walk bridges, beneath their geometric roofs - stalking among the many lights that herald the lantern festival. she, in search of a man who so happens to be responsible for an incident here ( as much her fault as his. )              so then, who better to make amends?

there are little ones lost to the dark maw of the chasm. only the shreds of information have made it out of there - but those did make it out, & the fatal loyalty on display so far below the earth has driven khioniya off her throne. ( m i l e s  &  m i l e s from home. ) alike those lost & yet, nothing like their strife at all.

“this is not our festival.” there is some satisfaction at the slackjawed surprise in those who recognise her here. ( shorter, smaller, but just as pale. as part of the deal she is to be but the briefest glimpse of herself within the city’s borders. ) the northland bank evidently continues to play its opulent part- as do its creditors, its hunters. ayaks’ deep eyes are such a welcome sight.        “but we may as well bring them home before it ends, no?”

THE CHASM

this place eats the light. the remains of the sun that was made to die one kind of death here, are sooty & vindictive. the rock is stained blue. asphyxiated by the shadows.                invited by her there is a hunger here, a thrill. pebbles tumble over each other in her blind spot. the scff of otherwise quiet steps; the faintest swish of his scarf trailing in the wake of his purpose—& he, in hers.

a few locations had been marked & a crude, partially filled in map had exchanged hands. what has been filled in has been done in firm detail; those who stayed in the cave system having done so at length. but they were all scattered, & what connects the known tombs are passageways that’ll leave them in the dark. & then there are the unknown…         chalk scratches along the rockface. an arrow. inward.

                          “they’ve not even eaten properly in weeks. anyone we find gets sent here,” here, where a cache of non-perishable foods awaits them. sheltered from the enemy outside yet, close enough to bask in sunlight as it slants into the pit they are descending through. it is a paltry apology, & yet the taste of home will invigorate beyond any other treat. any other necessity. since they are quite unwelcome, there is a silent understanding between her majesty & lady ninguang. not a toe out of line; but corpses- & their alternatives -free to retrieve. as long as the collected force moves linearly away from the harbour. they’ll need to climb—but that, that comes much later.                “we’ll find our own way.” doubtlessly.

“…i owe you an apology as well. they come first,” it trails off, chased down by the scratch of chalk as she chooses left - & marks it on another makeshift map. “…but i know the situation i have put you in.            i will compensate you. somehow. if you’ll let me.”

[esmealux]

Hi there! For the two-part drabble, may I request Deckerstar in situation 13 (someone does something stupid) with sentence 6 ("Do I love you? Yes. Do I like you? That's still up for debate.") Thank you, and I've really really been enjoying your the updates on your Planning a Hell of a Wedding fic!

Hey! It took me two months (including more than one month of writing) but I've now finally finished your prompt. Another anon had requested 25 (being somewhere you're not supposed to) + 6 and dear @my-crazy-awesome-sox had requested 26 (a very cheesy date) + 6, so I've merged all your prompts into one 7K+ long 'drabble'. Hope you don't mind!

And I'm glad you like the updates on PHW! I'll try to write some more now that I've finished this.

Hope you like this!

Also, an immense special thanks to @my-crazy-awesome-sox for helping me with this fic. She truly has been a godsend, and a lot of the wording (especially in the later parts) is kindly and almost directly borrowed from her mind. Thank you again, babe!

Also thanks to @lightbringer-666 for assisting me with some French. If all the French isn't perfect, it's because I also googled my way to a lot of it. Apologies in advance (and please do let me know if there's anything I should change!)

Someone does something stupid + being somehwere you're not supposed to + a very cheesy date + 'Do I love you? Yes. Do I like you? That's still up for debate.'

Rated M. Post 5B - contains spoilers!

Read on AO3 (includes list with English translations)

It’s ridiculous, really. The butterflies fluttering in her stomach like she’s a schoolgirl waiting for her prom date. It’s not even their first date. It’s not even their second. The thing is, between becoming God and Consultant, revising a few laws of the cosmos, fixing some bugs in humanity, bringing Dan to Heaven, and going to therapy, she and Lucifer haven’t had much time for, well, each other. At least not in ways that didn’t involve discussions about the redesign of the afterworld and how to sate world hunger. So yes, she is a little giddy with excitement at the thought of having a whole evening to themselves—no celestial craziness. Just the two of them and a bottle of the restaurant’s finest.

If Lucifer would just show up.

She checks her phone. 06:14. Unlike last time she anxiously waited for him in a restaurant, there’s a text.

Running a bit late. Please forgive me. Can’t wait to see you ❤

And one more.

Sorry. Can’t wait to see you naked*

Chloe shakes her head, a stupid smile spreading across her face. She resists typing back a flirty reply—he’ll be with her in a minute, and she is nota schoolgirl—and puts her phone back in her clutch. Hands trembling a little, she smooths out invisible creases in the dress he’s bought her. It’s short and tight, of course, but perfectly so. Reaching mid-thigh, with a small slit revealing a bit more of her left thigh. Black, unsurprisingly; he still hasn’t gotten over how delectable she looked in the LBD she wore on their last ‘date’. And this one makes her legs look even longer, which is undoubtedly the primary reason Lucifer picked it. Still, it isn’t skimpy. He could have opted for a deep neckline and cold shoulders—she almost expected him to when he said he’d bought her a dress—but he didn’t. Instead, the short and skin-tight skirt is perfectly balanced with a high neck and long bell sleeves that are cut open just above her joints, making the soft fabric flow around her bare underarms. She likes it—would probably have bought it herself if it weren’t crazy expensive. Likes how it makes her feel both sexy and classy and most of all comfortable, likes that he knows her so well.

She fidgets with her earring and traces the rim of her empty wine glass with her fingertip, watching people as much as she can from their semi-private corner. She spots an Oscar-winning film director, a retired NFL player, that pop star Lucifer pretends to hate, and just how expensive isthis place?

She’s immediately distracted by the shift in the air and the sound of Italian loafers approaching her.

‘My me, Detective!’

His brown eyes roam her figure as she stands to kiss him. Their lips meet in a soft peck that could easily have turned into more if Lucifer hadn’t pulled away to look her up and down.

‘You look like a goddess.’

Chloe snorts and chuckles, not yet used to the title he insists is hers if she’ll have it. She puts a hand on his chest, gazing up at him with a smile.

‘You don’t look too bad yourself.’

He hums and leans in for another kiss, but something comes between them this time. They both look down—at a dozen red roses.

‘Those for me?’ she asks, warmth spreading in her chest.

Lucifer hands her the bouquet with a nod and that soft smile she loves more than anything. He pulls out her chair, a gentle hand on her shoulder as she sits down, and sits down himself.

There’s a card nestled between the velvet petals: ‘For the Detective & Consultant’, her old and new moniker scribbled side by side in his annoyingly elegant handwriting. The latter nickname, however, is written in smaller, cramped letters—an afterthought. She smiles.

She turns the card, expecting to find a dirty, eye-roll-deserving comment on the back. But there’s no lewd joke or naughty promise.

It simply says, ‘I love you.’

Her heart swells, filling her chest till it aches. It’s all so new still. Not the love between them, but how it’s uninhibited now. It’s not like they don’t have their obstacles—just yesterday they had a fight—but there’s no doubt anymore, no voices telling them some dreams simply cannot be. They might have a whole universe to deal with, but for the first time ever, things between them are easy. No words are left unsaid. No feelings are squashed. No time is wasted. Every day is spent wrapped in each other’s love. Finally.

‘I love you too,’ she tells him, and he lights up, amazed. Confident. Their hands find each other on the table, fingers intertwining.

A waiter comes by with two menu cards and a vase for the flowers. Chloe reads through the menu carefully, pretending to know what kind of food hides behind the fancy French names. Lucifer sees right through her, sighs, and orders some hors d’œuvres, two of something she couldn’t pronounce if she tried, and a bottle of red.

‘So, were you stuck in traffic, or…?’ Chloe asks him with a glint in her eye as the waiter pours her a generous glass of wine. The celestial being with the supernatural metabolism can drive home.

The being in question looks confused for a moment before he answers, ‘Ah, no. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.’ For a brief second, he looks at her as if he’s apologising for more than tonight, but she strokes his knuckles and smiles at him, you’re here now, and he moves on to explain himself. ‘I just couldn’t find this bloody suit. Only when I’d ransacked the house did I realise it was still at the penthouse, so I had to make a detour.’

He is a little excused; so many things are impossible to find right now, with more or less unpacked boxes spread out between her apartment, Lux, and their new home. In hindsight, moving in together while taking over the almighty family business probably wasn’t the best idea, but they’ll get settled soon enough. Besides, right now, what’s important is that Lucifer was late because of a wardrobe crisis, and she will not let that slide.

‘You couldn’t just wear one of your three hundred other suits?’

A flicker of hurt and sheepishness flashes across Lucifer’s face.

‘Well, this one is special.’

Chloe takes in his suit: the navy jacket, the matching waistcoat, the royal blue shirt.

‘Oh.’

He smirks at her as heat creeps up her cheeks (so much for not being a schoolgirl).

‘You remember?’

She does. Of course, she does. She remembers vividly—how shocked he’d been at first, how new and soft his lips had felt against hers. How they’d held onto each other until the sun was setting and she really did have to go home and feed Maze and Trixie.

She also remembers how she, later, behind closed lids, had ripped off the shirt and waistcoat in desperate need. How it’d earned her a husky chuckle and a breathy ‘D’tective!’, and the sinful Heaven that was his hot and open mouth.

‘You okay, darling?’ Lucifer looks at her, his expression somewhere between concerned and amused. His thumb brushes the back of her hand.

Chloe takes a sip of wine and clears her throat. Adjusts her necklace.

‘Yeah, just, you know. Reminiscing.’

He studies her flushed face for a second before his curious smile spreads into a full-blown Cheshire grin.

‘You had a wet dream about me, didn’t you?! After our first kiss?’

Chloe glares at him. ‘Say it a little louder for the people in the back, will ya?’ He opens his mouth, and she immediately feels the need to clarify, ‘Do not say it a little louder for the people in the back.’

His smile doesn’t falter. ‘I’m just ecstatic to know our first kiss left you all hot and bothered. I mean, not that I’m surprised.’ He brings his wine glass to his lips and lets go of her hand to gesture down himself.

Chloe rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, like you didn’t go home and wanked yourself blind that night.’

He laughs, surprised by her bluntness, and shamelessly answers, ‘Why, of course I did. That night, other nights. Before and after that kiss. This morning. You serve as quite the spank bank, my dear.’

She definitely doesn’t blush at that. But she does glance down at his waistcoat, at the soft skin and hard muscles she knows hide beneath it. She gives him a slow and dirty smirk, appreciative.

‘You too, baby.’

Lucifer raises an eyebrow, his eyes darkening. Much to Chloe’s satisfaction, his neck and cheeks redden a little. Then he gives her a lopsided grin, smug and impressed.

‘Pray tell, Detective.’ His eyes glide down her face, her chest, her stomach, and slowly back up again.

In another time, she would have given him a stern look and told him it was none of his business, but she doesn’t. She also doesn’t tell him about lonely nights and long showers and crying his name into her pillow when they were still just friends. Instead, she leans across the table and half-whispers—

‘If you behave yourself tonight, I might show you.’

He gulps. Squirms a little in his seat, and—when he’s regained his composure and quite indiscreetly adjusted himself under the table—leans forward till there’s only mere inches between their faces.

‘Is that a promise?’ His voice is low and husky, his breath hot against her face. His eyes drop to her lips.

‘Pardon, monsieur, mais l’entrée est prête.’

They lean back in their seats and turn to the poor, young waiter, who’s balancing two seemingly heavy plates, a carafe of water, and a basket of crusty bread in his arms.

‘Lovely!’ Lucifer’s eyes follow the food as the waiter puts it down in front of them. ‘Merci beaucoup, Olivier.’

Olivier smiles at Lucifer, shy but with a look in his eyes Chloe knows all too well. She doesn’t blame him.

‘Ça va?’ Lucifer asks, his voice lined with genuine fondness.

Olivier nods. ‘Oui, ça va. Et toi?’

Lucifer looks to Chloe, beaming. He takes her hand on the table and interlocks their fingers again.

‘Tout va très bien,’ he answers, looking back up at Olivier with a dazzling smile.

Olivier’s eyes drop to their hands and, probably, to the ring, white and pearlescent, on Chloe’s third finger. His lips tug up at the corner.

‘Je peux voir ça. Félicitations!’ Before Lucifer can respond to that, whatever it means, Olivier gestures towards their food. ‘Et bon appétit.’

Lucifer replies with a friendly ‘merci’ and calls out something like ‘Salue ton père de ma part!’ as Olivier walks off.

Chloe stares at Lucifer, twirling the smashed bullet around her neck between her fingers.

‘What?’ he asks, curious.

She tilts her head, smiling. ‘French suits you.’

He smiles back, lasciviously. ‘Yeah?’

‘Mm-hm.’

The look he gives her leaves no doubt that, sooner or later, he’ll be whispering foreign phrases against her skin.

But right now, they have other appetites to sate. They dig into the first course, and the (assumedly) insanely high prices suddenly make sense, because it is frigging good. The main course is even more delicious—divine, actually, to the point where Chloe has to ask Lucifer if he accidentally spiked the food with a blessing or two. He assures her it’s all Olivier’s father, no holiness involved, apart from Chef Beaumont’s heavenly cœeur de filet de bœuf. Chloe moans in agreement, savouring every bite.

He watches her with a smile, jokingly apologising for not serving her grilled cheese, and she makes a bad joke about this date being cheesy enough as it is. Because it is cheesy. Him buying her a dress, bringing her red roses, the love note, the candlelit restaurant, the French food, not to mention the suit. It’s like a rom-com parody.

But it’s also perfect. It’s everything she’s longed for, an over-the-top romantic date night with her- with her partner. A date that isn’t cut short by a horny stewardess (may she rest in peace) or a failed attempt at exorcism; where Lucifer actually shows up and isn’t just trying to outdo another man; where Chloe isn’t trying to make him ‘do something good for a change’; and their parents aren’t tagging along on a headache-inducing surprise double date that is also a sting in disguise.

So, in some ways, it is kinda their first date.

And it’s a really, really nice date.

They laugh—they laugh so much. More than they’ve done in the past few months combined. Or so it feels, at least.

They laugh, and they talk. About movies they cried to, favourite drinks, and how they’re gonna paint the living room. About the summers spent under the plum tree in Nana’s garden, and all the pranks pulled in the gilded meadows of Heaven. About chasing Amenadiel through the clouds, and how Chloe always wanted a sibling. About her short-lived Hollywood experience and that one time she may have gotten a little high at a Backstreet Boys concert. (He seems impressed by that, her ‘abhorrent’ taste in music aside.) They exchange secrets they never told anyone, stories of bad kisses—Jed used too much tongue; Will was always better with words—and tales from drunken nights out. They reminisce on the first time they met—how annoying she’d found him, how compelling he’d found her—and the many, many cases, some really weird, that first encounter led to.

They talk about Dan.

About missing him, even though he’s making waffles with Charlotte now.

About Trixie, and how therapy seems to be helping her, too. How she still sometimes breaks down crying, but no longer crawls into their bed in the middle of the night, shaking and gasping for air. How she’d laughed the other day, and it’d made them both cry. How incredibly strong she is, that little urchin.

They talk about going to Paris one day, all three of them—the French do make excellent chocolate cakes—or maybe somewhere else she wants to see, once everything is calmer. They talk about some of the prayers Lucifer has been hearing, about faith and free will, what they miss about solving crimes together, what they don’t miss, and how they’re still very much partners, even more so now—in every corner of life.

They talk till their cheeks hurt from smiling and Chloe’s half-drunk on expensive Burgundy. Lucifer asks for the cheque, their food long gone, and pays with cash, making sure to leave a tip possibly the size of Olivier’s monthly salary.

They leave the restaurant giggling about a stupid joke Lucifer makes, his hand splayed out on the small of her back. Her own hand is placed much lower than what is decent for such a fancy place like this, practically cupping his ass, but she’s tipsy enough not to care, and he doesn’t seem to mind the attention. It’s his own fault, anyway, for having his pants tailored to hug his butt like this.

Naturally, Lucifer drives. He doesn’t hold back his comments on how slow and boring her car is, but at least he stays somewhere close to the speed limit. She wishes he’d also wear a seatbelt, and keep both hands on the wheel, but his palm is nice and warm on her thigh, and she trusts he’ll get them home safely. She leans back in her seat, her head comfortably buzzing from wine and him, and watches the blurry city lights through the window. He’s turned down 2ndStreet.

‘Where are we going?’ She looks over at him, curious.

He smiles in the shadows, his fingers stroking the skin left exposed by the slit in her dress. His touch leaves hot, tingling paths on her thigh.

‘I thought we’d go for a second desert.’

Chloe is beyond full, her dress stretched over her now slightly rounder belly, and she can think of other things she’d rather do (things that include pinning Lucifer to their bed and making him groan and beg and laugh), but she’ll never say no to a freshly brewed latte and watching Lucifer obscenely enjoy some Sicilian pastry.

She turns up the radio, fumbling a bit, and closes her eyes with a smile, more content than she’s been in… a long time. His hand stays on her thigh as they move through the night, fingers tapping to the beat of the songs against her skin, creeping higher, teasing, just enough to make her breath hitch, but nothing more, and then back down again. Maybe they’ll just take that latte to-go.

The car comes to a final halt, and first then does Chloe realise they haven’t stopped outside the late-night café and bakery that’s opened down on Spring Street.

‘Lucifer, what’—she looks around, double-checking—‘what are we doing at the back entrance to the precinct? You said we were getting desert.’

He leans across the centre console, fingers spreading on her thigh, and brings their faces so close their noses touch. Chloe swallows.

‘We are,’ he assures her with a wolfish grin, his gaze lingering hungrily on her, and she could jump him right then and there. But he takes his hand off her body and clicks her seatbelt free, pulls the key out of the ignition and exits the car. He strides to her side and opens the door for her, gentlemanly as ever, and she watches him with narrowed eyes as she takes his hand and steps out, sceptical even in her cloud of lust and inebriation.

He heads directly for the back entrance and opens the black iron door with ease, rudely ignoring the state-of-the-art security locks. A part of her knows she should stop him right there and give him a stern talking-to about respecting human laws—he still can’t do whatever the hell he likes just because he’s God now. But another part, the part of her who helped him empty two bottles of French wine, really wants to step over that threshold, to intertwine their fingers and go on a late-night adventure. And that part of her must overpower the other, because she lets him snake his arm around her waist and lead her through the door and inside the familiar building.

She senses him grinning by her side, his fingers curling around her hip in a deliciously tight grip that only stokes the heat pooling low in her belly. He takes her down the corridor, around the corner, and then they’re there, in the middle of the precinct. Everything is covered in darkness, the wide, open space only illuminated by a never-resting info screen and the purplish glow from the vending machine. Still, she can make out the shape of their desk, the door to Ella’s lab, the interrogation room. The fridge in the breakroom still hums obnoxiously, and the air smells like strong coffee and sugary glaze—or maybe that’s just a phantom. Either way, it all tugs at her heart, beckons her down memory lane, and she lets herself be pulled. Through the good, the bad, and the crazy.

Lucifer is quiet beside her, probably lost in nostalgia himself, or maybe just letting her have this moment. But not for long. With titillating eagerness and a devilish smirk, he wraps his fingers around her wrist and pulls her by the hand—towards the evidence closet.

He presses her up against the door, his body hot and hard against hers, and pins her hand against the cold glass of the frosted window. His dark eyes sparkle with mischievous excitement.

‘There’s something we never got to try.’

Her pulse quickens, blood humming loud and hot.

‘Lucifer, we can’t.’ She tries to sound firm around her suddenly heavy breaths and dry throat, but he doesn’t seem discouraged in the least.

He leans in, closer, his smirking lips brush against her ear. ‘Can’t we, now?’

And as if he hadn’t done enough already, he takes her earlobe between his teeth and bites it.

Chloe smothers a gasp.

‘We shouldn’t.’ She puts her hand on his chest and pushes her head against his, nudging him away from her neck so she can thinkfor a second. He reluctantly obeys and settles for placing his hands on her sides, dangerously high, thumbs almost stroking the underside of her breasts. She pushes his hands down to her waist. ‘We shouldn’t have sex in Evidence—shouldn’t have broken into the precinct in the first place. I mean, do you want us to get arrested?’

He only laughs at that, of course. ‘I’m God, darling. I won’t get arrested.’

Chloe rolls her eyes. He would probably charm his way out of it if they were caught, God or not—but that doesn’t make any of this okay. She’s about to tell him as much when he adds-

‘But if you wanted to cuff me and tell me what to do, resisting would be the last thing on my mind. In fact, I’m sure we can find some cuffs lying about-’

‘Lucifer, no.’

Her tone is sharper than she’d intended. He pulls back a little, studying her face. His eyes flicker to her parted lips, her flushed, heaving chest, and then back to her determined gaze. His brows furrow.

‘Do you really not want to do this?’ His voice is soft, serious.

They stare at each other, hot breaths mingling. He’s still pressed up against her, a six-foot-three wall of muscle and love, and his scent—spicy cologne and smoke—floods her head like ambrosia, a dizzying fog of him. Her skin burns beneath his palms, his touch sending embers through the expensive fabric and down, flames licking at her inner thighs. Her heartbeat thumps in her ears.

‘We don’t even work here anymore,’ she rasps, deflecting his question. It’s a weak excuse, but she is fraying at the edges.

A salacious smile forms on Lucifer’s face. ‘We’ll just pretend we do.’

He takes a step back, putting a more ‘professional’ distance between them, adjusts his lapels and attempts at a neutral expression. ‘You wanted to show me something in Evidence, Detective?’

And there’s that word again, want—because she still hasn’t answered his question and her consent means more to him than anything. She loves him for that, she really does, but right now, it’s not that simple. She wants, every cell in her body wants, wants him to shove her into that closet and take her apart. Has wanted it for so long, thought about it for years—at her desk, in the shower, while sitting next to him during interrogations. Thought about it in the self-same evidence closet, as she was pressed up against the wall by someone else. Imagined tugging at his hair, feeling him between her legs—even had to swallow his name. She still thinks about it, thought about it the other night, briefly, wistfully, while making a cup of tea. Thought about how much fun they could have had, sneaking off to secret corners of the precinct like two horny teenagers—if it hadn’t been for, well, mostly Michael, and all the chaos he’d released upon their lives.

In fact, it’s only fair they have at least one reckless, semi-public rendezvous. Just one. To make up for the honeymoon phase they never really had. With all the hurt and heartbreak they’ve had to go through, alone and together, they deserve to have one night of stupid fun.

On the other hand, and this is why it’s not that simple, it’s a bad idea. It’s a really bad idea. And also, pretty illegal. If she asked him to, if she said no now, he would take her home and push her up against the nearest surface, bury himself in her faster than any of them could get their clothes off, bring her to ecstasy-

But it’s not the same. It just isn’t.

With as much innocence she can muster, she looks up at his anticipatory face and puts her hand on the doorknob. The cold steel is a soothing balm against her burning skin.

‘I do want to show you something in Evidence.’

He lights up like it’s a declaration of love, all unrestrained enthusiasm.

‘After you, darling.’

Their lips crash against each other before the door is even closed. He pushes her backwards in the semi-darkness, between shelves and boxes, hands low on her hips. His fingers dig softly into her ass as they stumble towards a sliver of wall together, panting and laughing against each other’s mouths. He doesn’t break contact with her lips as he quickly sheds his jacket on the way and throws it over his shoulder, for the moment uncaring of dirt and creases. Then her back hits the wall with a thunk and she’s instantly struck by déjà vu, until Lucifer grabs her thigh inside the slit of her dress, and the unwelcome memory quickly evaporates in the heat of their clashing bodies as he wraps her bare leg around his waist and pins her to the wall with the hard press of his hips. Their unison groans fill the cramped space.

‘We shouldn’t be here,’ she murmurs breathlessly against his lips before opening her mouth to let his tongue back in. He tastes like wine and crème brûlée.

He hums in disagreement. ‘We should always be here, Detective.’ With the hand still on her ass, he pushes their bodies impossibly closer together and rocks against her. She moans, despite herself.

‘We- I-‘ Chloe stammers, leaning her head back as he kisses his way down her neck, her mind and body pulling in different directions. ‘This is- why am I letting you get away with this?’

She feels him smirk against her throat. His hand slowly glides up her inner thigh—her pulse quickening with every inch—until his thumb brushes past damp fabric.

‘Because you like me.’ His beard rasps against her hot skin in the crook of her neck, a contrast to his soft lips placing slow, open-mouthed kisses from her jaw to her collar. ‘Because you love me.’

Chloe scoffs.

‘Do I love you?’ she questions, her breathing erratic, her eyes turned to the ceiling as he sucks a mark onto her neck. With the hand that is still between her legs, he pushes her underwear to the side and rubs against her, nice and slow. ‘Yes.’ Her gasped answer has a proud, almost victorious chuckle rumbling from his chest.

‘But do I like you?’—she bites her lip and stifles another moan as his fingers press just right—‘That’s still up for debate.’

He breaks off the assault on her neck and looks up at her, eyes black with desire.

‘Allow me to try and tip the scales, then.’

She’s bereaved of his fingers as his hand moves to the edge of her underwear, pulling it down as he sinks to his knees. She almost stumbles when he slips it over her feet, but he grabs her leg, steadying her, and helps her out of her stilettos. Once she’s barefoot, his warm palms slide up the side of her legs, pushes the hem of her dress up a few inches, and then his mouth is on her.

He licks her, slowly, tenderly. She reaches down to pull at his hair, commanding him to give her more, to take more, and he does. He starts feasting on her, all tongue and lips and-

‘God, yes.’

He chuckles smugly into her core. ‘I do love it when you moan my name, darling.’ Eyes fixed on hers, he gives her a nice, long lick before he dives back in. He kisses her clit, sucks it, circles it, laps at her like he can’t get enough, and she’s reduced to a quivering, whimpering mess. She bucks against his face, needing more, and he does that thing that she likes, tongue flicking her clit, warm and wet, as he pushes a finger inside her.

Her eyes clench shut, her head falls back against the wall. She doesn’t bother holding back her groan this time.

Lucifer hums against her, low and greedy, taking as much as he can, before he pulls away with ragged breaths. ‘Ma déesse, que tu as bon gout.’

The meaning is forever lost on her, but his hungry tone, the way his tongue wraps smoothly around the French syllables, the words dripping like sin from his glistening lips, sends warm shivers down her spine.

He slows down his pace inside her, places kisses on her lower belly, seeks her ticklish spots and the ones that make her breath hitch, and then trails down to her hips, studying her sharp bone with his lips and his teeth, before moving down to her thigh, stubble prickling her tender skin. As if he’s got all the time in the world, he lets his mouth travel to the insides of her legs, already spread for him, and kisses a path up her inner thighs, getting closer and closer to where she aches with need,but never quite there. His finger, still moving slowly—too slowly—curls a bit, reaches that spot deep inside her that usually makes her see stars, but he pulls back before she’s even done gasping.

‘Lucifer,’ she breathes, a threat and a plea.

He places one last kiss to her sensitive thigh, nuzzles his nose against her heat, before his tongue finally finds her clit again and his finger starts pumping inside her, fast and hard. Then faster, harder, and, fuck, deeper.

‘Baby,’ she begs him to continue, fire spreading through her body, from her curling toes to her already heated cheeks.

He slows down for a second, and she reaches down to scratch at his scalp in frustration but quickly forgives him when he adds another finger and resumes his perfect pace, thrusting up in her to the beat of her racing heart.

‘Je veux te faire jouir.’ His thumb replaces his tongue as he looks up at her, eyes sparkling with lust and determination, but also patience. Like he could do this for hours, the whole night, as long as she falls apart around his tongue and fingers in the end.

He doesn’t need all night, though. She’s close, so close, can feel the beginning of that blissful high burning in her lower belly, between her thighs, where his mouth licks and nibbles and sucks. A building warmth pumping through her veins. She grabs at his hair, wraps her leg around his shoulder and pushes his face closer into her heat, needing that last-

‘Fuck, right there,’ she gasps. Right there right there right there.

He smirks against her, always eager to please, and does as she says. As she’s teetering on the edge, he curls both fingers inside her, goes impossibly deeper, and reaches the same spot as before, except this time, he doesn’t stop, and she comes with a shudder and a gasped ‘fuck!’ as he licks her through it.

‘Tu es tellement belle, ma chérie,’ he tells her, voice soft with awe as she comes down from her high and opens her eyes. She understands enough of the words to smile down at him, at his dishevelled hair, his swollen lips, and warm, chocolatey eyes.

‘You too, baby.’

She still hasn’t caught her breath when he, after wiping his mouth on her thigh, slowly rises from his feet and starts making his way up her body. His fingers skate lightly up her dress, his knuckles brushing against her rising and falling ribs as his hands sneak higher and higher, closer and closer. With a feather-light touch, he starts tracing the curves of her breasts, deliberately avoiding her aching nipples. He teases her with his fingers, kisses her neck, lips trailing, hot and slow, up to her jaw and the sensitive spot behind her earlobe.

‘J’ai envie de toi,’ he says into her ear, his voice rough with want and determination.

Chloe can’t take it anymore. She fists his waistcoast in one hand and grabs him by the hair with the other to pull him up into a hard kiss. He tries to stay in control, to hold back his obvious desire for just a little longer, but he quickly loses the battle and lets a bit of hunger take over. They pour equal heat into the kiss, tongues pressing and teeth clashing as their mouths slide against each other. She threads her fingers through his curls, he bites her lip, and they both groan and gasp into the kiss.

Chloe’s the one to pull away, needing air sooner than him. They’re looking into each other’s eyes, both panting, when he says it again, ‘J’ai envie de toi.’ This time, breathy desperation shines through his voice. ‘Je veux être en toi.’

And then they’re kissing again and both of them are working at his belt and pants in a flurry of hands until he’s finally inside her with one quick thrust. He fills her to the hilt, deliciously stretching her inner muscles, warm and hard. For a moment, they’re both so overcome they can only pause and breathe, Lucifer’s forehead cradled in the crook of her shoulder as her hand gently strokes the short hairs on the back of his neck.

He pulls back to look deeply into her eyes, and starts off slow. Not teasing, just tender. He kisses her cheeks and neck, every inch of skin he can reach with his lips, and whispers sweet nothings against her skin. She can’t know for sure, of course, because it’s still in French, and she doesn’t catch all of it, the sounds alien and muffled—‘t’es incroyable’, she hears, ‘j’suis fou amoureux de toi’—but something about his tone tells her it’s not as dirty as whatever he was saying before. Still, it makes her just as wet, the words tingling across her skin.

He picks up the pace, wraps her legs tighter around him, and pushes her harder against the wall. His hand grasps her breast roughly, seeking purchase, then rhythmically strokes over her nipple in apology, and she moans her relief. The shelves on either side of them hit the wall with a consistent thump, thump, thump as he thrusts up into her, fucks her, their harsh pants mingling in the small space between their parted lips. Chloe claws at Lucifer’s shoulders and back, hands scrambling for something to hold onto. Even through the two layers of fabric, she can feel his warmth and muscles, and a sudden urge bubbles up within her. With desperate fingers, she starts undoing the buttons on his shirt, but it takes too long—she needs him—so she rips open both shirt and waistcoat and frantically pushes them off his shoulders. He pins her against the wall with a hard thrust, letting go of her thigh and breast to shake the material onto the floor, and Chloe scratches at his finally bare back and shoulders, nails digging into slick, freckled flesh. She arches back into the wall and bares her neck for him to nip and kiss.

‘Fuck, Lucifer!’ she whines. ‘Oh, God, baby, fuckyes!’

He growls at the sound of her noises and bites her ear.

‘J’adore baiser avec toi.’ One hand slides down to her ass, holding her and pushing her dress higher up as the other bites into the now bare skin at her waist. The sharp touch sends a jolt down to her throbbing clit, making her clench tighter around him. ‘J’adore ton corps. T’es vraiment une déesse.’ The last word is a groan against her lips as he kisses her.

It’s wet, messy, and so delicious they both grasp tightly onto each other’s mouths with lips, tongues and teeth, neither of them wanting to ever let go.

‘Je veux t’embrasser,’ Lucifer pants when they break apart for a second, his gaze fixed on her mouth as their lungs fight for air. His dark eyes soften when they look into hers. ‘Chaque jour de ma vie,’ he adds reverently as he leans in. ‘Pour toujours.’ And then he kisses her again, like he wants it to last for all eternity.

His thrusts turn slower and deeper as they kiss, harder, until kissing becomes panting into each other’s mouths and Chloe’s head falls back in sheer pleasure. He tightens his grip on her ass and runs the hand on her waist up her side, brushing his thumb over her nipple as he passes her breast, up her neck, and cups the side of her face. She lets their eyes meet, and the way he’s looking at her, with absolute awe and gratitude, makes her heart flutter and her hips buck against his bare stomach. Her hands slide from where they’ve been clutching his mess of a hair to his back, trailing down to where he’s most sensitive. She places her palms on either side of his spine and presses lightly, carefully.

‘Tu me-’ he cuts off with a gasp when her nails skim over his hidden wings, ‘Tu me rends- fucking hell, Chloe.’

She keens at the guttural sound of her name. He leans his forehead against hers with a grunt, the slight change in angle making his rhythm falter, one hand slamming against the wall next to her. She watches the rest of his control slip through glazed eyes. She did this to him. She rendered God himself lost to his own bliss. That knowledge itself is nearly enough to push her over the edge.

‘Close,’ she breathes.

He grabs both her thighs with strong hands and presses her flush up against the wall, going impossibly deeper inside her. She hisses through her teeth and sputters all kinds of incoherent, unholy prayers into the sweltering air between them. Every hard thrust pushes her closer to ecstasy.

‘You make me so happy,’ Lucifer whispers, sounding so wrecked and raw her eyes clench shut. ‘I want- I hope- fuck- I hope I make you, nnf, just as happy.’

‘You do, baby. You make me so- so-’

Heat floods her veins as she comes, the sweet tension snapping all at once. She cries out, arches her back, and moans long and low as he continues to fuck her through it. His thrusts are quick and inelegant, his arms and thighs trembling, and she knows he’s close. She intentionally clenches around him, whispers his name, and then he too is tumbling over the edge, the only type of falling she ever wants him to feel again.

They smile at each other as they try to catch their breaths, sweaty foreheads still pressed together.

‘I love you,’ he says. ‘So much.’

She hums with happiness, her heart pleasantly aching at the sound of the words he couldn’t say the last time they were here.

‘I love you too, babe.’ She reaches up to lazily nuzzle the hairs at the nape of his neck, still smiling.

‘Maybe you even like me?’

She lets out a breathy chuckle and slides down the wall to land on her bare feet. Her legs are… wobbly, to say the least. Lucifer smirks at her.

‘We’ll see about that.’ She smoothes out her dress as he tucks himself back into his pants and fastens his belt. ‘If anyone ever finds out about this, your chances are pretty bad, buddy.’

She collects his clothes from the floor and helps him into his shirt. Two buttons are missing, lost to the force of her hasty ripping. It gives her an odd sense of satisfaction, the fact that the shirt he wore when they first kissed—the shirt she dreamt of tearing off his body—now is marked by their little escapade. (At least until he gets his tailor to fix it.)

‘Well, I’ll just have to keep trying to convince you then, won’t I?’ He licks his lips and lifts his eyebrows as he offers her a hand to help her up from the floor once she’s put her shoes back on. Chloe bites her cheek so as to not smile at his suggestion and intertwines their fingers.

‘You can start by helping me assemble that new shelf system tomorrow,’ she tells him, waiting for him to groan in response, or mumble something about hiring some people to do it for them. But he doesn’t. He just opens the door for her and lets her go first with a soft smile on his still flushed face.

‘Anything for you, my love.’

The door shuts with a gentle click behind them.

[fbfh]

might have almost died but at least my crush likes me back - percy x gn!crush!reader

pairing: percy x gn bad swimmer crush reader

wc: 1.4k

warnings: some swearing, near drowning, water monsters, nonsexual tenticals ever look up and wonder how you’ve gotten to this point, some general dumbassery but what did you expect

summary: was charging into battle against a water monster when you practically need a pool noodle to shower a bad idea? yes. was getting rescued by percy and finding out he has a crush on you worth it? abso fucking lutely. 

requested: yuh

song I listened to while writing this: what the water gave me - florance and the machine

Okay, jumping into the water was definitely not your smartest move, especially since you still need water wings when you go canoeing in the camp lake. In your defense, you have beef with this piece of shit monster. What are you supposed to do, not beat the shit out of it when it tries to go after your friends and sink your ship? No! Plus, will kicking it’s ass possbily impress Percy? Maybe! Is that worth it? Hell fucking yes! You jump in there with a plan; you’ll charge in head first, land on its back where its’ blind spot is, and attack while it tries in vain to reach you. The one thing you didn’t expect was for it to sink below the water and keep going further down, which is where you find yourself now. 

Okay, you think, don’t panic. Hard advice to take when you’re watching the surface recede as you get dragged further down. You’re still trying to stab the bastard, but it’s not working. You know when to pick and choose your battles - literally - and it’s time to retreat. You pull out your sword and try to jump off its back, but you don’t move. You look down, another spike of panic shooting through you, making your collar bones hot and stomach drop sickeningly. 

This piece of shit has two tentacles wrapped around your feet and ankles. 

Oh fuck.

You start to swing desperately at the gelatinous arms holding you down, but your movements are heavy and sluggish, and you can’t land a good hit. A heavy, deep dread fills you as you realize the depth of the situation you’re in. Your mind is already racing with the worst possible outcome, but you try to shove that away, and return to trying to free yourself. If you’re going down, you’re going down swinging. Plus, the others will probably realize what happened, they’ll probably come in for back up any second. 

A wall of stone and sand appears to your right, and you dare to look down at the trench the monster is dragging you down into. You haven’t been down here for too long, but the panic is making you feel light headed. If you pass out down here, that will really be the end. A shadow passes over you, or maybe your vision is going dark, you can’t tell. Either way, you try really really hard not to think about how screwed you are.

A blurry, overlapping combination of Fuck! and No! are all that go through Percy’s mind as he stares at the rippling, swirling water where you were one second ago. He can’t stop seeing the tips of your hair getting dragged into the churning blue depths. Overwhelmed with dread, he feels the water was over him before he realizes he even jumped. He follows the irregular currents from the monsters wake, never wanting so badly to vaporize this bottom feeder. A steely determination rushes through him, overpowering his fear, his worry for you, and yells louder than his racing panic about how hurt you could be; he is going to get you, and you’re going to be fine.

He had left you for one second - one second! - and you somehow managed to do the dumbest, bravest, hottest thing possible and charge after that monster. He pushes aside those thoughts. 

They’re instantly replaced with a rush of hypotheticals; the feeling of your arms around his neck, how you’ll blush when he asks if you’re okay, how he’ll kiss your forehead and tell you how stupid that was, maybe your eyes lock, your hands come up to his cheeks, and- 

He stops them again, chastising himself for thinking about that at the literal worst possible time. 

‘I have to find you first...’ He muses, catching up to the monster - and more importantly, you - a moment later.

‘And there you are.’ 

His shadow passes over you, and a bubble escapes your mouth. Another hot spike of dread cuts through him. He speeds up, drawing his sword, but hesitates when he sees the tentacles holding on to you. A new plan is immediately in mind. He’s only got one chance at this, he has to line up his shot perfectly. 

He speeds down, swings one immaculate arc with his sword, and cuts you free. He pulls you toward him with his free hand, making an air bubble around your head. His nerves calm slightly as you catch your breath, returning to your normal color. 

“Stay here,” he says firmly, helping you get your footing a safe distance from the trench. You nod, hands still clutching his arms. He can’t tell what adrenaline is from the fight and what’s from you, but it doesn’t matter. He’s ending this now. 

He turns back to the monster. 

“Hey shrimp breath!” 

The beast rises, turning to look at him. It was not expecting this. He raises his sword slowly, then races forward, slicing through its weak point. It lets out something between a roar and a shriek, sending currents that almost knock you over. He jabs the thing two more times for good measure. As soon as it starts to turn to dust, he swims back over to you, pulling you into a tight hug, and rising to the surface in one fluid motion. 

You gasp when you break the surface, mostly out of relief, but the feeling of going up doesn’t stop. It takes you a second to realize Percy is waterbending you both up, arching to the side, and setting you gently on the deck of the ship. 

“Are you okay?”

It takes you a second to process everything that just happened. Your mind replays the most terrifying - four, maybe five? - minutes of your life, ending with breaking the surface, rising back up to the boat, and having Percy’s hands on your cheek and shoulder, worriedly inspecting you for any injuries. Wait, what? You realize what he asked, and sputter out a response. 

“Y- uh, yeah, I’m totally fine-”

“What the hell was that?!”

You blink in surprise as he keeps going.

“That could have gone so wrong, why would you just- just jump into the fucking ocean without a plan b, or a life vest, or something!” 

Is he lecturing you? You hold back a smile as he continues, you don’t think he’s ever lectured you before. It’s really cute. 

He pulls you close, your cheeks heating up as he presses his face into the side of your neck. You feel more grounded in his arms than you probably ever have. 

“I… I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you,” He says it so softly you almost don’t catch it. His face nuzzles against your skin, taking in your presence, and presses the smallest kiss to your neck. 

Oh.

Your mouth hangs open as it dawns on you how he feels. 

He pulls away, face flushed, and rubs the back of his neck.

“Uh, do you…” he trails off, searching your expression for an answer. 

Of course you like Percy; everyone does. You don’t know one person at camp who doesn’t like him at least a little. Camp Half Blood culture is smelling like barbeque smoke, not questioning it when you find a new bruise or scar, and having at least a small to moderate crush on Percy Jackson. We’ve all had it. The giddiness from finding out he likes you feels almost fake. You snap out of your internal spiral, realizing you haven’t answered him yet.

“Yes- yeah, of course… I mean, hello, you’re Percy freaking Jackson. There’s a mile long list of people who have a crush on you.” 

He glances to the side. You’ve never seen him smile like that, it looks good on him. He pulls you close, thumb running over your cheek, foreheads almost touching. 

“There’s only one name on that list I care about.” 

Your lips meet, and you can tell how long he’s wanted to do this. He angles his head just right, and you reach a surprising new level of euphoria you didn’t know existed. You eventually pull apart and he rests his forehead against yours, both of you catching your breath for the second time. 

His words from before replay in your mind. 

“... it is my name, right?”

He laughs and pulls you into a hug. 

‘I could definitely get used to this.’ 

Standing on the deck, holding you in his arms, Percy is thinking the same thing.