#really excited to write the next chapter soon

[doitforbangchan]

All Bark and No Bite - 19

oops i couldn’t wait for the weekend 😅 happy 4th of july to my fellow american homies 🫡🫡

Masterlist /Series masterlist

Chan x reader (y/n) x ot8

ABO!Nonidol!SKZ Alternate Universe

Previous - Next

Chapter warnings: Afab/fem reader, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f + m), kissing, Dom!Chan, Dom!Minho, Dom!Seungmin, Sub!reader, subspace, threesome (m/f/m), Double penetration (mouth and Vagina), 2min being absolute deviants, face smacking, choking, crying (a TON), Dacryphilia, voyeurism, spanking, sir kink, dirty talk, pet names, spit, cum eating, fluff, angst, cursing, violence, blood, threats, broken bones, (sorry to all the wooyoung stans- this hurt me to write), Chan is not a good guy here but he’s hot so 🫠🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

WC: 10.2k

Sun beams streamed into the room, the early morning light dancing across your lids as you woke up. You groggily creaked your eyes open then instinctually reached your hand over to find your alpha- though you found the spot empty. Chan's side of the bed was cold, he had to have been up for far longer than you.

Click 

Clack

Click

 There was a quiet clicking sound that filled the room. It was the first thing you really took notice of as you came to your wits.You rubbed your eyes and lightly lifted your head up. In the corner of the room at his laptop sat Chan. He was still in his underwear that he wore to bed and he was typing away at the keyboard in front of him. He hadn’t noticed that you had awoken yet, so you observed him for a few minutes. His brow was furrowed and he kissed his teeth. 

The alpha typed away for a few more minutes, then he sighed in frustration and threw his head back. It was at that moment he noticed you were awake, looking at him with sleepy eyes. He smiled at you with a tender look. “Good morning, gorgeous.”  

“Mmph. Morning Channie. What are you doin?” You swung your legs over the side of the bed and reached your arms up in a stretch. 

He sighed again and turned back around to his computer. “Just some work that couldn’t wait until after the weekend.” He wouldn’t tell you that he had gotten up early to do some digging on Wooyoung and had gotten fed up when he didn’t find anything of note then checked his work emails. “There's a buyer who wants to see a huge property a town over.” 

You padded slowly over to your alpha and draped yourself over his shoulders, nuzzling your face into his neck. “That must be exciting for the company.” 

“Mmhm, it’s a really expensive piece of land. The buyer wants to get this deal done asap and is sending me over there tomorrow to meet with them. On a fucking sunday.” He huffed and rolled his eyes.

 You could feel his frustration radiating out of him so you brought a hand up to his head and ran your fingers through his curls, trying to comfort him. You felt him physically relax and you let out a gentle purr. “M’ sorry alpha. You work so hard for your company, you deserve some time off.” 

He snorted, “Yeah like that’s going to happen anytime soon. I’ve already taken too much time off the last few weeks thanks to a certain someone.” He playfully kisses your arm that was wrapped around him then leans into you. “My old man understands how important bonding with an omega is so he’s been lenient but since I’m the one that's going to take over the business I have to make sacrifices sometimes. Being able to provide a comfortable life for you and the pack makes it all worth it though.” 

“You’re a good man, Chan.” You kissed his neck again, your scent sweetening with your pure love for him. The smell was so heavenly it made his eyes almost roll into the back of his head. “I am so lucky to have the most perfect Alpha as my mate.” 

Chan tried to hide his bashfulness and the dusting of pink that appeared on his cheeks by turning his head but you managed to catch a peek anyways. You giggled and reached a hand to pinch his cheek. He shook his head and laughed along with you. “Don’t tease me! And don’t pretend you're not the perfect one, my little omega.” He turned and gave you a kiss on your lips this time and hummed. “I do have to get back to this for now though my love. Not much longer.” 

“Anything I can do to help?” You stood but kept your hands on his shoulders, massaging them lightly. 

He turned back to look at you with a smirk and his eyes shining with mischievous intent, “Wellll there's one thing I can think of…” 

“Hmm,” You hummed wearily, “what’s that Channie?” 

“Cockwarm me while I work.” 

You choked on your air intake. That is certainly not what you had in mind. “You- you want me to do what?” 

He patted his lap cheekily, making you look down to notice his member hardening in his boxers. “Come on pretty omega, take a seat on alphas dick and keep me company. That would really help me get some work done.” His grin was teasing as if daring you to do as he asked, as if you truly had an option. 

You licked your lips as you felt your panties dampen instinctually. You weren’t naive enough to think it would help him that much or that his intentions were pure but you also weren’t going to deny your alpha anything he desired- which right now was you.  

Your hands fell from his shoulders as you circled around to the front of his chair. You held eye contact with him when you crouched down in front of him and reached for the hem of his underwear. His gaze was sharp as he took in your every miniscule movement,brown orbs  already dilating like a beast of prey. Your breath was shaky when you hooked your pointer fingers into the hem and slowly pulled them down his thighs until his hard length sprang out and slapped against his stomach.  

You stood up again and this time pulled your own panties down, letting them fall to the floor as you stepped out of them. Chan licked his teeth and patted his lap once again. “Your throne, my queen.” 

That made you huff a laugh and eased your nerves a little. 

“You’re a dork.” 

 Bracing your hands on his shoulders you positioned yourself to be straddling his lap and he helped you line yourself up. With a deep breath to prepare for the stretch, you sank down onto him and engulfed him completely. Your eyes screwed shut and you let out a whimpering moan. Chan sighed blissfully when you were fully seated, his strong arms pulling you into his chest. 

“Thata girl.” 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and gave him a small grind. He held back a moan, instead tutting at you. “Uh uh baby, just sit still f’ me and keep me warm.” 

Settling into a good position the both of you let out a content sigh. You kept your head buried into the crook of his neck while he let go of you and went back to his laptop. You closed your eyes and relaxed into him, trying to pass the time with a nap. The both of you managed to sit like that for about a half hour. You did your best to focus on napping but you were beginning to get needier and needier. Chan was doing a good job at keeping a poker face and typing away as if you weren’t clenching and leaking all over his dick. 

Your thighs started to burn from the position you were stuck in so you tried to subtly adjust to relieve some tension, but the movement made you push him deeper into you. You let out a quiet moan when you felt him twitch inside of you and couldn’t help but shift your hips, making your walls drag against him which caused him to moan in return. 

“F-fuck baby, can’t go moving your hips like that.” 

“M sorry, you just feel so good.” You whined in his ear. You could feel your slick dripping out of you and onto Chan's dick,“S’deep in me, feels so good alpha.” 

He let out a growl at your words, his resolve quickly crumbling. “Feelin’ needy now, baby? Can’t even sit here and be good, you need your alpha to take care of you?” 

You nodded rapidly, clenching around him tightly at his words. “Uh huh. I tried to be good for you Alpha. I sat here as long as I could.” 

“Well it’s a good thing I’ve just answered my last email then huh?” 

With no warning the man beneath you lifted his hips to buck into you, making your back arch as you moaned. “Nnnnghh alpha!” 

“Hold on to me baby.” 

You did as you were told, tightening your hold on his shoulders. When he felt that, Chan put his hands under your spread thighs and gripped the meat there. He used his strength to lift your body up then brought you down again. You felt every ridge and vein of his cock rub against your walls, making you whine and throw your head back. 

Chan used your body as if it was his own personal fleshlight, lifting you up and down over and over again. His panting in your ear sent shivers down your spine. The alpha relished in the feeling of your slick dripping out of you and falling down to his thighs, the sloshing making him want to pound into you even harder. Your little breathy ‘ah’s filled the room along with the sounds of your ever accumulating slick.

“Fucking hell omega, you’re taking me so well. Nice and tight and so fucking wet. Is that slick all f’ me?” You were too caught up in the pleasure, not registering that he had asked you a question. The alpha halted his movements, making you let out a desperate whine that turned to a cry when he laid a sharp slap against your butt. After he smacked it he grabbed a handful of the tender flesh and squeezed. “I expect an answer when I ask you a question.” 

“Yes yes! M’ so wet for my alpha.” You began to cry as you tried to bounce on his dick but he kept you stationary. He gave your ass another hard slap, this time groaning when he felt you clench down on him even as you hissed from the pain. “Please alpha, need to move, need to cum please.” 

He hummed in thought as if weighing his options. You couldn’t stop your squirming as you tried to gain more friction but his hold on you was too tight. Just when you were about to cry again he delivered one more stinging strike to your skin, then roughly fucked up into you and resumed his previous pace. 

Your nails were clawing into his bare shoulders as you felt your high approaching quickly. You started nibbling on his neck hoping to stimulate the man even more than he already was and it seemed like your efforts were not in vain. 

“Fuck omega, I’m getting so close, need to feel you cum on my cock then alpha will give you his knot. You want alphas knot, pretty girl?” His voice was throaty and rough and it made your eyes roll with how sexy it sounded as it sent you even further into that deep subspace that only he could send you too. The alpha could make your brain fuzzy with a single look; when he fucked you it sent it into overdrive. 

“Uh huh, wan’ your knot.” Your words were slurred, barely making it out of your mouth before he changed up the tempo and made his movements more of a deep grind into your core, hitting your special spot and also letting his pelvis rub perfectly against your clit. “Fuck oh my god gonna cum. Alpha m’ gonna cum!” 

“Go ahead, baby. Make a mess on my lap.” 

With his permission you let go and felt the snap within you, your pussy tightening around him as you came. “Ngggggghhhhhhh Channie! Alpha!” 

There was a deep rumble from within the man's chest as he gave into his instincts and started rutting up into you harder than ever before, making you scream at the overstimulation. He gave you three more rough thrusts before you felt his knot begin to inflate within you, locking himself into place within you and warm spurts of his essence coated your walls. You couldn’t stop spasming and squirming on his lap as you felt him fill you to the brim. 

After a few moments Chan seemed to catch his breath but you couldn’t stop shaking and whining. He let go of his hold on your thighs and ass, bringing one hand to the back of your head as he stroked you to soothe you. “Shh baby, you’re ok. I’ve got ya.” He gave your cheek a gentle kiss and he pumped out calming pheromones. It took you a few minutes to finally come back down to earth. When you came to your senses you lifted your face from his neck, both your face and his neck were wet with your tears and you looked dazed. “Are you ok my love?” You nodded with a ‘hmfp’. He chuckled at how cute you were. “Did alpha fuck you too good?” 

You nodded again and felt your face heat up at his words. “Mmhmm. So good. Missed alphas cock.” 

“My baby is turning dirty!” He mocked a gasp in shock. “You’re spending too much time with those heathens, they’re corrupting you.” 

You giggled and kissed his cheek, “I think it’s you who's doing the corrupting around here Channie.” You tilted your face to align with his and you gave him a deep kiss on his plump lips. His tongue invaded your mouth and mingled with your own, giving you a taste of each other. 

He pulled away with a loud ‘mwah’ and rubbed your noses together, making you giggle and peck his lips again. You could feel his knot beginning to deflate, so the alpha adjusted his hold on you to lift you up gently and pull you off of his member. You hissed when you felt him leave your body, the knot not yet down completely so it gave you a small tug as it left you. That pain turned to relief when you were able to move your legs- the appendages burning from the held position. 

Chan helped you off his lap and to your feet. Your legs felt like jelly and almost gave out but he was there to catch you and steady you. “Easy baby, gotta be careful after a rockus love making like that.” His tone was cocky and he grinned the same way, making you roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at him. “You watch that little tongue of yours omega, you stick it out too much and something may just come by and snatch it!” He made a quick pinching motion at your face making you squeal and back away from him. 

“You can’t have it, it's mine!” You pushed his hands away as they reached out to grab you again, both of you unable to control your laughter. “Get away you monster!” 

“Monster? Oh no baby, I’m the big bad wolf.” He grinned evilly and wiggled his fingers at you. “And if I catch you I’m gonna eat you up.” 

“You won’t eat me!” You backed away further and towards the door while still keeping your eyes on him. Just as your hand reached the doorknob he pounced, making you shriek. “Ahhh no no no!” You wretched the door open and flew out of the room, the alpha hot on your tail.

“Where ya goin little red? Don’t you wanna play with the wolf?” He reached for you but you barely made it past his fingertips.

“No thanks! I don’t play with monsters!” You managed to get down the hall to the bathroom in the hallway, closing it and locking it a mere second before your alpha got to the door. “Yes I made it! Take that you dirty wolf!” He pretended to scratch at the door and you stuck out your tongue again at the door. “You can’t see it but I’m sticking my tongue out at you!” 

You could hear him chuckle and scratch at the door again. “Come on out and play with me some more little omega. Give this wolf another taste of you.” Both of you knew he could make you come out if he really wanted too, but the chase was more fun. No sense in ending it with an alpha command. 

“Nuh uh, I’m fine here.” 

“Hmm, I’ll get my hands on you eventually, little red. I am a patient wolf.” The playful bite in his tone sent a quiver through your body and your brain fuzzy. It made your hands twitch and you almost opened the door for him. Almost. 

“We’ll see about that. Now get outta here so you don’t listen to me pee!” 

He just laughed and then you heard his footsteps walk away from the door. 

Coming out of the bathroom after doing your business and brushing your teeth you caught a glimpse of a stocky figure rounding a corner down the hall. 

Changbin 

You sped after him reaching your hand out before he could go into his room. “Binnie, wait. Where have you been? Are you ok?” 

His head spun around to you then quickly back around, not looking you in the eye and seeming nervous. “Hi Y/n.” 

“Y/n? Since when do you call me by my real name?” You were confused and honestly a little hurt and it showed in your voice. You reached a hand out to touch his shoulder but he jerked it away, still not looking at you. “And why won’t you look at me? Have I done something wrong?”

That made him whip his head back to you, balking at you. “You get borderline assaulted because of me… and you ask me if you did something wrong? Are you serious?” 

“Oh Bin..” You knew he would be taking it hard. “I’m fi-” 

“Don’t say you're fine or it’s ok like I know you’re about too. It’s not ok, Y/n.” He put up a hand and cut you off. His hard gaze went back to the floor. You could just barely see his lash line fill with unshed tears. “Nothing about me being a shitty alpha to you is ok, so let’s not stand here and pretend it is.” 

You shook your head, a deep furrow in your brow. “Binnie don’t say that-” 

“It’s true! If I had been more aware -paid more attention to you- then you would have never been grabbed, let alone touched at all. I selfishly put my own wants before your needs. A good alpha wouldn’t have let that creep touch you.” His voice was raised and harsher than you had ever heard it. Usually he was loud with laughter and fun; it felt unnatural and made a pit settle in your stomach.

Now your own eyes were filled with liquid and all you wanted was to comfort him. “Changbin, it’s not your fault. Will you look at me please?” He still refused to look at you, choosing to keep his head down instead but you did see him sniffle a little bit.

“I don’t deserve to look at you.” 

“Seo Changbin” You tried to make your voice as hard as possible and you put your hands on his cheeks tilting his head back up and making him look at you. “Look at me. I. am. Fine. Do I look hurt? Do I seem like something is wrong with me?” 

“No..” He mumbled, a tear escaping his eye. You were quick to wipe it away with your thumb. 

“Then why are you beating yourself up about it, huh? I am here safe with the pack. Safe with you. We are all here together safe and sound, isn’t that all that matters?” 

“Only because Minho stepped in.. If he hadn't, who knows what could have happened to you.” By now the tears were streaming down the man's face, wetting his cheeks and your hands that still held them. 

“Changbin, that is enough! You are a great alpha and I have no doubt in my mind you would have come to my rescue soon enough. And it doesn’t matter who got there first anyway, what is important is that you and I are both here together. So please, please stop being so hard on yourself. It’s breaking my heart. I cannot bear to see you so upset.” You meant every word and looking in your glassy eyes he knew you did. He knew you weren’t one to lie. 

The alpha couldn’t hold it in anymore and released a quiet sob, attacking you into a much needed hug. “M’ so sorry baby. I love you so much. I don’t know what I would have done if he had hurt you.” 

Even though you were also crying you attempted to sooth him, your hand going from his face to his back as you held on to him. “Shh it’s ok. I love you too, Changbin. My sweet, wonderful, handsome alpha.” 

He sobbed even harder, his grip on you tightening as he tried to get as close to you as possible. You let him hold on to you for as long as he needed, the both of you crying and comforting the other. After a few minutes he slowly pulled back from the hug, instead choosing to bring your mouths together for a tender kiss. You practically melted into his kiss, his soft lips molding with yours. Even though there was no teasing or tongue involved it was just as deep and full of passion. 

This time it was you who pulled back first, your hands coming back up to his face and wiping away the remaining wetness from his perfectly rounded cheeks. “No more tears from you, I can’t stand to see you in pain.” You whispered, giving him your most sincere eyes. 

“Now you know how I feel when you cry.” He replied just as quietly. Changbin gave you one last quick peck then let you go completely, stepping back from you and a pink tinge appearing on his cheeks. He cleared his throat and you couldn’t help but to giggle. Of course you giggling made him join you; your laugh was just that contagious. 

The mood was instantly lightened, the tension visibly lifting from the alpha as he calmed down. But there was still a question remaining in your mind. “Binnie, where did you go last night? I didn’t sense that you came home, I was worried.” 

“I uh,” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “I just spent the night walking around the woods. I was too ashamed to face you or Minho, so I thought it was easier to just walk home from the carnival to collect my thoughts.” 

You nodded in understanding, grabbing his hand and rubbing the back of his knuckles. “I’m just glad you came home at all. Chan told me he had talked to you but he didn’t specify what he had said so I was scared he had given you an unjust punishment.” You noticed the grimace in his expression. “Wait, did he? What did he say to you?” 

Bin shrugged as if it was no big deal but the crack in his voice gave him away. “Nothing crazy… He just took away my gym privileges for a while.” 

You quietly gasped and pulled him into another hug, “Oh Binnie, that’s horrible I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s ok Baby, all it means is I have to work out at home. Give ya a show.” He flexed his muscles at you, giving you a wink and making you laugh. 

“How about you come give me a show right now? I need to take a shower and you could join me if you want.”  You made a show of biting your lip dramatically and wiggling your eyebrows. 

Changbin burst into that high pitched laughter that you loved so much and nodded his head. “I could definitely use a shower after being outside all night.” 

You sniffed him and made a fake disgusted face, waving a hand in front of your face. “Yeah I’ll say.” 

“Hey now don’t you start bullying me! You’re turning into those jerks!” 

“H-O-T-T-O-G-O. YOU CAN’T TAKE ME HOT TO GO!” 

It was about three hours later after your shower with Changbin (which to your surprise did not turn sexual), and you were just finishing up sweeping the kitchen floors after you cleaned up breakfast while listening to music. You wanted to get a few things done today; feeling energized and needing to dance it out while you cleaned up. You offered Changbin to help you but he was exhausted after his night meandering the woods. 

“H-O-T-T-O-G-O, snap and clap and touch your toes

Raise your hands, now body roll, dance it out, you're hot to go” 

You did as the song said, bending down and body rolling, getting lost in the music. You were so thankful there was a radio in the kitchen. A low whistle from the kitchen entryway scared you, making you turn in fright and a hand fly to your chest. 

“Seungmin, stop scaring me!” 

The beta snickered, leaning on the wall. “Can’t help that we keep meeting like this little puppy.” His darkening eyes raked over your form, subconsciously licking his lips. He had observed you dancing for a few minutes before he whistled; drinking in the sight of you in a little maroon skirt and one of his t-shirts. Don’t get him started on the little peek of your little purple panties that he got to see while you were bent over. It was enough to make a grown man cry. 

A grumbled ‘hmpf’ left your lips and you crossed your arms, clearly unamused. “I don’t know if you have some sixth sense but you always seem to know when I’m distracted.” You narrowed your eyes playfully at him. “You obsessed with me or something?” 

Seungmin scoffed and pushed off the wall, coming to stand right in front of you and keeping eye contact. “More than you know, little puppy.” His gaze was so intense it made you backup a foot until your back touched the edge of the counter, where the beta put his hands to cage you in. His eyes flickered to your lips then back to your own and he leaned down ever so slightly. 

Your lids began to close in anticipation of his kiss, but it didn’t come. Instead you were surprised again when you felt his hands go down to the back of your exposed thighs and you were suddenly lifted off the floor. “Seungmin!” You shrieked, and smacked at his shoulder. 

“Calm down pup, don’t go throwing hands I’m just putting you on the counter.” 

As he said he lifted you and seated you promptly on the counter behind you. Your legs were dangling off the side and Seungmin got another peak at your underwear.  

“You drive me crazy enough to throw hands so really I don’t think I am to blame.” You stuck out your tongue at him and he rolled his eyes, then pinched you quickly and backed away snickering. “Ow!” 

“Dramatic omega.” He wagged a finger at you in jest, laughing again when you huffed. The man turned and opened the freezer, pulling out two mini popsicles. “Put the claws away or you won’t get one of these.” He waved one around in front of you. 

You made grabby hands at the sweet treat , giving him your best teasing pleading voice. “Gimme please!” You cheered when the beta handed you the frozen pop. “Hell yeah!” 

Without wasting any time you unwrapped the treat and started to eat it. You hummed in satisfaction as you took in the flavor. Blue raspberry; your favorite. Seungmin just watched as you ate your pop lost in your own world. He felt the tent in his pants grow tighter as you sucked and licked the phallic ice pop and were oblivious to the show you were putting on for him. 

“That looks good, where’s mine?” 

Both you and Seungmin were pulled from your thoughts by Chan who had walked into the kitchen. 

“Uh” The beta stuttered, then pointed to the freezer. “I picked them up the other day, do you want one, Chan?” 

Chan had taken notice of you both before he even spoke, already getting a read on the younger male's dominant and lusty energy. Well, that, and he watched as Seungmin couldn’t take his eyes off of your sinful mouth or your panties that were on display. 

“Hmmm, no thanks Seung. But I may just steal a taste of yours, baby.” The alpha smiled cheekily as you happily stuck your treat out for him. He stuck his tongue out as if he was going to take a lick, then he chomped down quickly on your pop, biting off a large chunk. 

“NO HOW COULD YOU?!” You yelled, shocked at the sudden loss of your popsicle; your now blue mouth open and eyes wide. “YOU SAID YOU WANTED A TASTE! A TASTE!” 

Both boys were laughing at your plight as you stared down at your now almost gone pop. “M’ sorry my love, alpha will buy another whole case while I’m out, just for you. How’s that sound?” He brought you into a hug with you still sitting on the counter as you pouted. 

You perked up at the idea of your own box- then his other words registered in your brain. “Wait where are you going?” 

“Just gotta go run an errand. I won’t be too long.” There was something malicious behind his usually kind eyes, it was so subtle but you and Seungmin both caught it. Chan laid a kiss to your cold lips and gave your knee a pat. “Be good for Minnie, I’ll see you soon omega.” He winked then he was out of the room. 

You looked to Minnie hoping he would give you an answer to the alphas behavior but instead you found him already staring at you. Or more specifically the melting ice in your hand. The juice was dripping down your fingers now and you cursed softly when you noticed the mess it was about to create. 

Before you could grab a nearby towel to clean it up your wrist was grabbed by warm fingers. “M-minnie?” 

The beta plucked the stick from your hand and threw it in the sink a few feet away- the wood making a quiet thump as it landed. Seungmin took the hand that was in his grasp and lifted it up to his face and stuck out his tongue. You held your breath as he slowly licked up the dripping juice that lingered on your fingers. The action was so erotic and abrupt that you felt a flood of slick form in your underwear. 

Seungmin held eye contact while he licked and sucked each individual finger, and you were too entranced to move even an inch. Only after each finger had been ~thoroughly~  cleaned by him did Seungmin let you go. He licked his lips and smirked down at your still dumbstruck expression. “That was pretty tasty. I wonder what other sweet treat you're hiding from me.” 

The boy dropped a wink at you then he fell to his knees in front of you; his hands went to your bare thighs, where they made quick work of pushing your skirt up and out of the way of his next meal. He groaned at the sight of the wet patch of the front of your panties, making you feel self conscious and you threw your palms over your face. “Seungmin! We’re in the kitchen! We can’t do this here!”

He scoffed, “No better place to eat than in the kitchen.” You could feel his hand leave one of your thighs, then you felt the rough pad of what you could assume was his thumb on your clit, rubbing you through the purple material and making your hips buck on reflex. “Looks like you want it too, huh pretty puppy? Gonna sit like a good pup and let your master give you a treat?” 

You didn’t answer him while you sat in contemplation, but that was not what Seungmin wanted. You gasped when your hands were yanked away from hiding you and his rough fingers gripped the underside of your chin, squishing your cheeks harshly. 

“I asked you if you were gonna be good for me, don’t act like a mutt and answer my question.” His growled words held a warning in them and you knew better than to test his patience right now. 

“Yesh Seunminf.” You answered the best you could with your smushed lips, eyes already glassy and begging for his mercy. 

“Good girl.” 

His signature smirk returned to his beautiful face and he let your face go then brought his attention back to your center. This time he decided to not waste anymore time, and he dove in face first to your clothed core. Seungmin nosed your clit through the fabric and it had you gushing even more. He was breathing deeply as if trying to absorb as much of your pure scent as possible and you could see a hint of his eyes rolling back into his head. It made you want to hide behind your hands again but you didn’t want to risk the repercussions. 

He hummed when his wet tongue stuck out and he pulled your panties into his mouth, sucking your essence out of the fabric. The act was one of the lewdest things you have ever fucking seen; it made your body burn with both embarrassment and titilation. 

“Minnie” You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped when he kept licking into you, making obscene grunts as he feasted on you and made your underwear beyond soaked. As good as it felt it was not enough. You craved more. “Minnie please.” 

He ignored your plea, instead he dug his face even further as he suckled your panties into his mouth. The beta was getting lost in you- in your pussy- it was his favorite thing in the world (everything about you was, really). He kept at it until he felt your thighs squeeze against his head. 

Seungmin pulled his face back and glared at you for interrupting him. “Thought you were gonna behave.” 

You whimpered and bit your lip. “M’ sorry Minnie. Didn’t mean too. Just need more.” 

“More?” He scoffed, “My greedy puppy wants more? You think you deserve it?” 

You nodded rapidly, rushing your words out.  “Yes, please. Been good.” 

He huffed in contemplation, then he surprised you by ripping your soaking underwear off your body and suddenly you were hoisted from your place on the counter. “Fine, I'll give my puppy a real treat then.” He crashed his lips into yours, his mouth instantly devouring your own. You moaned against his lips and you felt him smirk again, and he nibbled on your tongue, making you squeal from the light pain. 

Thinking he was going to set you down on the ground you had no time to react before you found that the beta had basically thrown himself down onto the ground on his back, and hauled you down with him so you were sat atop of his chest. Then he gave you an expectant look. 

“Uhh” You were utterly confused, “I dont…I don’t know what…” 

Seungmin rolled his eyes and sighed, “Thought it was pretty obvious.” He motioned to his face. “Sit on my face.” 

“Huh?” 

“Sorry. Please sit on my face.” 

The casualty of his request was staggering; it left you in absolute shock especially since he had requested it in the kitchen. That was the biggest hurdle that you were having trouble getting over. “But..We’re in the kitchen… during broad daylight where anyone could walk in on us... Maybe we should go up to your room?” 

Your defiance was starting to irritate the beta, his eyes hardening even further and he let out a growl. “I don’t give a flying fuck where we are or what time of day it is. I will fuck you whenever and whereever I want. Now scoot your ass up here and sit on my fucking face and let me eat your pretty pussy. I’m done asking.” 

You yelped when his hands harshly gripped your thighs and he forcefully dragged you up until you were hovering over his awaiting mouth. The grip he had on you only tightened when he immediately dug his face into your core, making you gasp at the contact and your hands flew to his hair to balance yourself or you would have risked falling over.  

“Oh my god, Seungmin!” You couldn’t help but rock your hips as you moaned and called out his name as he lapped at your center; greedily swallowing down the nectar that flowed freely from you.  By now his nails were embedding themselves into your skin with how hard they were digging in, trying to keep you still so he could enjoy his meal. “M-minnie, s’good.” 

“Mmmmmm” He hummed and slurped at you obscenely, his lips encircled your clit and you felt the vibrations hit your sensitive nub. You jerked and spasmed when he gave your clit a teasing nip with his teeth. He chuckled when you tried to get away from the painful pleasure and held on even tighter; so tight you could feel the blood begin to rush from the wounds his nails inflicted. “Nope, you’re staying right here.” 

The slurping and moaning was so loud that honestly you were surprised someone else hadn’t already walked in to find you in this compromising position. Though the music was still playing so the tunes must be drowning out your obscenities. You looked down at the boy beneath you and his face was hidden by your skirt, the flimsy material hiding his rapturous expression. 

“So fucking tasty.” The beta mumbled, his words muffled,  feeling himself become almost drunk on your ambrosia. “Most delectable pussy I’ve ever tasted.”  

“You really have no fucking shame, do you Seungmin? I can smell what you're doing from outside.” 

Your head had been thrown back in pleasure so you hadn’t noticed a new arrival to the kitchen, nor had you noticed said arrival leaning against the counter a few feet away watching your fucked out expression for at least five minutes. 

Seungmin growled from under you, feeling possessive over his bounty. “Go away Minho. We’re busy.” 

The elder beta snorted a laugh, “Yeah I can see that.” Minho waltzed over to where Seungmin laid on the ground and crouched down in front of you. He reached out and lifted the skirt that hid the boy's face, meeting the mean glare that the younger boy was sporting; though Seungmin never stopped his ministrations. Minho flipped the skirt back over the others face and stood again. 

Minho took in your glassy eyes and the little whimpers that escaped your lips with every suck and swipe of the younger boy's tongue. He noticed the way your mouth puckered subconsciously as if it were searching for something. Minho reached out and cupped your cheek in his warm hand, his thumb running along your open bottom lip. 

“M-min” Your voice was pleading, though you didn’t know what you were asking for. 

“Mmm what do you need omega?” He cooed at you condescendingly, already having an idea but wanting to piss off the other beta. “Need me to take care of you too?” 

“I said go the fuck away you asshole. She doesn’t need anything from you.” Seungmin all but snarled at Minho, his voice raspy and wet from the juices in his mouth. 

“I wasn’t asking you, Seungminnie. I was asking our beautiful omega.” He stroked your cheek and kept looking down into your watery eyes, holding deep eye contact. “And by the looks of it she needs a little more stimulation. So what do you say, Baby?” 

You didn’t want to upset Seungmin but you needed something more. With trepidation you nodded your head, and grabbed onto the man standing in front of you. 

“M-more, Minho. Please.” 

He tsked, “Is that what you call me, omega?” 

Was he really about to embarrass you in front of Seungmin? 

He looked down at you with that domineering gaze and a flicker of arrogance on his face.

Yes. Yes he was. 

“Sir.” You whined, trying to keep your voice low. 

“Hmm? What was that, I couldn’t hear you. You’ll have to speak up like a big girl.” 

Seungmins tongue buried particularly deep into your hole, making you moan and lurch forward into Minho who held you steady. 

You took a deep breath and blinked back tears. You raised your voice a few octaves and held him tighter. “Sir, need something. Please Sir.” 

“Oh my fucking god” You heard Seungmin murmur in disbelief at the nickname you called Minho. 

“That’s my good girl. Here you go baby.” The patronizing beta ran his thumb along your lip again before forcefully shoving it into your open mouth. Instantly you started sucking on the appendage, it being just what you needed for your oral fixation. You hummed around the digit and lathed your tongue on the pad of it. 

Your hips started bucking even more and your whines got louder. You could feel your high approaching at a rapid pace now and apparently the two men could tell you were close. Just as you felt the knot begin to tighten within you, Seungmin gave your clit a big suck into his mouth and that was the kick you needed. 

The welled up tears started to leak down your face as you came, and your eyes fluttered shut at the delicious pleasure that went through your whole body. Your eyes snapped back open when you felt a sharp sting on your cheek and Minho was glowering down at you still with his cat-like eyes. 

“Look at me while he makes you cum. Don’t you dare look away from me.” He hissed and shoved another finger down your throat, making you choke. 

You fought to keep your eyes open as you came, shaking and whimpering from your place on Seungmins face. The slurping from below got louder as your sweet essence was dranken up by the beta man. The sound was downright filthy. 

Finally, Seungmins tongue had stopped moving within you and had returned to his own mouth. He gave you a moment to finish shaking then he scooted you down so you sat on his stomach once again. Minho let his hands fall from your face as he drank in the fucked out sight of you. 

Seungmin lifted his head from the floor as he comfortingly ran his fingers over the small wounds his nails left. His face was drenched in your slick, the liquid dripping down his chin as he sat up slightly and his tongue shot out to catch the drippage. He made a show of groaning at the taste of it when he licked his lips. 

“Mmm delectable.” 

You felt your face heat up as the mortification caught up with you. You peeked up to see Minho still standing there watching your every move and you couldn’t bear to look him or Seungmin in the eye so you cast them down instead. 

“What’s the matter, puppy? Are you embarrassed that Minho Hyung caught you out in the open acting like a dirty mutt in heat for me? Or are you upset you didn’t get to cum on my cock instead?” 

The teasing words had you whimpering and you involuntarily clenched your thighs around Seungmins waist. Seungmin was growing more and more open to the help of Minho, seeing how desperate it had made you and he knew the new possible ways to play with you were endless. 

Minho bent down and got close to your face as he fake pouted. “Aww I think she wants you to fuck her properly, Minnie. Look at her writhing at the mere thought of it.” It was true, you were fidgeting and you could feel even more slick gathering from your pussy and onto Seungmins shirt. “Poor baby needs your dick, Seung.” 

They both grinned at each other mischievously, both betas locking eyes in a silent understanding. This was going to be so fun.

The maps on Chan's phone alerted him that his destination was on the right hand side. The alpha kissed his teeth as he threw his phone on the passenger seat, then opened the door and stepped out. This was his last and most pressing matter of the day and he was ready to get it over with. 

Stepping up to the doorstep of the small house Chan knocked on the door and waited. After a minute the door was opened to a familiar face. 

“Chan, what a surprise! What can I do for you?” The elder man had a kind smile and seemed genuinely happy to see Chan. 

“How are you, JYP? It’s been awhile.” Chan shook hands with the beta man and he peered past the door for a moment. They exchanged quick pleasantries but Chan declined the offer to come inside. “Oh no thank you, I can’t stay long. I was actually looking for Wooyoung. I heard he was staying with you and wondered if he was in?” 

“My nephew? Yes he is in right now, I’ll get him for you.” Chan smiled and thanked JYP. “WOOYOUNG YOU HAVE A VISITOR!” 

A thundering of feet could be heard walking through the house and then Chan got his first in-person look at Wooyoung. The beta was slightly taller than Chan was, and he had long arms but he was on the lankier side. He noticed the smile fell from Wooyoung's face when he saw just who was at the door for him. Chan heard him whisper a quiet ‘shit’, and he had to bite back a devilish grin. 

“Hi, my name is Chan. I was wondering if you had a second to speak with me.” He noticed the hesitation on the boy's face, so he pressed the order a tad harder. “It’ll only take a minute.” 

Wooyoung was shoved out the door by his uncle, who gave him a pat on the back. “ Of course he has plenty of time! Chan does alot for this town, so be polite Wooyoung.” With that the elder man shut the door and gave them some privacy.

Chan could see the nerves that laid within the boy; the twiddle of his fingers and the anxious run of his tongue on his lip gave him away instantly. Good, he should be scared. 

“Nice to meet you Wooyoung. Changbin has told me alot about you.” 

“O-oh. Changbin is a good friend.” 

The alpha hummed in agreement, nodding. “He is. He is a good man and a great pack mate.” Chan took a subtle step closer to the beta. 

“Did Changbin send you here?” Wooyoung asked, mentally running over what Bin could have said to Chan. 

Chan clicked his teeth, and shook his head. “Nah. I came of my own volition. I actually had a question I wanted to ask you.” 

“Ok, what is i-” Before Wooyoung could finish his question, Chan's hand shot out and grabbed onto the younger man's throat. Suddenly Wooyoung's face was shoved forcefully against the wood of the house, his nose smashing and he could feel the crack of his bone and blood start to drip out. 

Chan snickered at the noise of pain Wooyoung let out and he tightened his grip on his neck. Chan dug his nails sharply into the skin and he felt the betas windpipe beneath his fingers. He got closer to Wooyoung until his broad body was trapping him against the wall.

“Do you like being grabbed, Wooyoung?” Chan seethed but kept his tone relatively calm, albeit a bit menacing. “Do you like it when a stranger that's stronger than you puts his hands on you?” When the beta didn’t answer Chan yanked him back and re-shoved his bloody face into the wood and made the beta hiccup from the pain. Chan's other hand had a tight hold on Wooyoung's hands and he kept them locked behind his back so he couldn’t fight back.

 “Let me tell you something, motherfucker. Changbin is a good man. But I’m not.” Chan increased the pressure on his neck, the beta letting out a choking gurgle as the blood flooded his mouth. “And I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. So this is going to be your only warning.” Chan lowered his voice to an ominous sneer. “If you ever put your filthy fucking hands on my omega or my packmate again, I will rip your arms from your torso and throw them in the woods for the bears to eat.” 

Wooyoung squirmed and moaned in pain, his airways closing more and more with each passing second. For a split second he wondered if he would ever escape. Suddenly all the air he had been searching for came rushing back to him as he was released. Wooyoung fell to his knees and his hands flew to his neck as he coughed and sputtered, the blood of his face flying in specs everywhere.

“The only reason I haven’t done so already is out of respect for your uncle, who has been a pillar in our society. Be grateful he was able to save you… This time.” Chan stepped back and straightened himself out. “Go clean yourself up before you make too big of a mess on that poor man's porch.” 

With that Chan stepped off the porch and left the beta crying and sputtering, and slipped back into his car. He drove away without so much as a single glance back- as if the ordeal hadn’t even occurred at all. 

“Ngghhh” You gurgled out the best you could around Minho's cock but it only came out in a slobbery whine. His member was pistoning in and out of your mouth as he held your hair, using your face to get himself off but also making you incredibly horny. 

Seungmin was still under you but now instead of his face you were sitting atop his dick reverse cowgirl; the thick appendage sliding in with reckless abandon. Your thighs were burning but the divine pleasure of being used by them was too delicious for you to care. The sloshing from both your pussy and your mouth makes you dizzy and your brain mushy- you had no choice but to give yourself over to them completely (much to their- and your- delight).

“Feels so good, your pussy is always so damn tight. My dirty pup. So fucking good for us.” Seungmin could feel the way your walls clenched around him at the praise and it made him moan loudly. He cursed and his own hips started to quiver with the impending orgasm. 

“The best omega we could have asked for.” Minho was next to praise you, his head thrown back and his breathing hard. He himself also was not far from cumming. He groaned at the sight of your tears continuously leaking down your cheeks and mixing with the saliva on your chin. 

Minho opened his eyes when he sensed another presence nearby. Or to him it was more like a pest lurking around. Big boba eyes peered slowly through the threshold, hoping to catch a good look at what was happening in there, his cock twitching in his pants. Minho bit back a grunt, and he called out to the boy. 

“Get outta here Jisung, go jerk off somewhere else you pervert.”

A squeak left the younger boy and he turned around, bumping into his accomplice that seemed just as alarmed at being caught. Felix. He could hear them scurry down the hall together and rolled his eyes at their antics. It didn’t seem like you even noticed they had appeared or left at all.

For the two betas this was sort of poetic. A few weeks prior they had been at odds about you- and now here they were, coming together because of you, both with a common goal in mind; ultimate pleasure. 

“Touch your clit, baby. Make yourself cum on my dick, get me all messy with your slick pretty girl. I wanna be soaked in it from head to toe.” Seungmin requested through his moans and you did as he said, your nimble fingers traveling down your body and to your aching nub. You spasmed and whined when you made contact with it, which in turn made your walls quiver around Minnie's length. 

Minho's hand that wasn’t in your hair was on your now bare breast, fondling the heaving flesh and pinching at your nipple. You cried louder when he pinched particularly roughly on your already abused nipple. It was the final push you needed before you came for the third time today. You gasped and choked on Minho's length, making him pull out of your mouth so you could breathe. 

When you came your walls clamped down on Seungmin and triggered his orgasm, the betas hips stuttering as he filled you with his essence. “Fuuckkkk holy shit, so tight puppy.” 

The view of you both cumming together was too much for Minho and he stroked his member quickly in front of your open mouth, “So hot, what the fuck” he said through clenched teeth as his high came forcefully and his cum spurted out of the tip and onto your face, some of it getting into your open moaning mouth. 

All three of you were quite a sight, all shaking and crying with pleasure together in the middle of the kitchen. You and Seungmin were both covered in cum and slick, the combination of the two leaking out of you and all over the beta man's thighs and onto the floor. Minho couldn’t help himself and he leaned down and ran the fat of his tongue along your cheeks, collecting the salty mixture of your tears and some of his cum, and moaning from the taste. 

After a few moments all three of you were able to collect your breath and calm down. You were drifting in deep space and barely registered Minho's arms scooping you up and off of Seungmin. You let out a quiet hiss when your thighs were able to move from the held position. 

“Shh it’s ok baby. I know you're sore, we’ll take care of you.” Minho cooed and set you down on the counter again. “Hold still f’ me baby.” He used a damp rag to clean the remaining semen off of your face. You sat perfectly still as he made you sip a cup of water provided by Minnie. After every sip you took you were rewarded by pecks on your lips and a soft ‘good girl’. 

 After you finished your water you were scooped up again but this time by Seungmin. He had pulled his shorts back up but you were still completely naked as he carried you through the halls and to Chan's bathroom and to the massive bathtub. 

The two of you bathed together as you slowly came back down to earth. The beta smothered you with kisses and made sure to clean you thoroughly. It was just what you needed after the rough fucking they had put you through, even though you enjoyed it immensely. 

Minho was in the kitchen cleaning up the mess when he heard Chan come in and head into the kitchen, a grocery bag in his hand. Chan noticed the blush on the betas cheeks and the mop in his hand, a knowing smirk coming across the alphas face. 

“Make a mess?” 

Minho eyed the specs of blood that stained Chan's shirt and raised a brow. “I could ask you the same.” 

Chan shrugged and set the bag on the freshly cleaned counter top, pulling out a brand new pack of popsicles that he promptly stuck in the freezer. “Just went to clean up a mess, actually.” 

The beta hummed in understanding. “Baby is in the bath with Seung. She is feeling really delicate right now so I’d change my shirt if I were you.” 

Chan shot him a grateful thumbs up and headed up to his room, tearing his shirt off before he entered. He could hear you giggling and the sound of the drain from his bathroom so he quickly shucked on a new shirt then went into the adjoining room. 

“Stop Minnie!” You were laughing as you playfully pushed Seungmin away as he tried to tickle your sides. You were sitting on the counter as the beta dried you off after your bath. 

“I can’t help it, rules are rules, I have to tickle you after a bath. I can’t change the law, omega.” 

“You liar! Stop your nonsense!” It was then that you noticed Chan enter the bathroom. “Alpha!” You beamed and reached a hand out as a plea for help against the beta.

“I’ll save you, my love.” He laughed and dramatically grabbed Seungmin by the shoulders and shook him, making the beta laugh even louder and try to hold on to you. Chan was able to pull Seungmin away and held his arms as the younger boy struggled. “I got him, run baby!” 

You wrapped your towel tighter around you and hopped off the counter, only for your legs to give out after you took a single step and you plummeted to the ground. Your thighs were so sore you couldn’t even walk. 

At once both boys stopped playing and rushed to your side, with Chan hauling you up into his arms. “Are you ok baby?” 

You nodded, giggling and burying your face into his chest. You noticed that he wasn’t wearing the shirt he left in, but you decided not to bring it up. “Yeah I’m fine. My legs are just too weak right now. You guys really did a number on me.” You didn’t miss the low five Chan offered Seungmin. “Hey!” You smacked his shoulder and he only laughed harder. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Seungmin realized he was still borderline naked; with only a towel wrapped around his waist- and gave you a tender kiss as you sat in the alphas arms. “I’m gonna go get dressed. I’ll see you in a little while, pup.” 

Nodding you returned his kiss, “Ok Minnie. I love you.” 

“Love you too.” He felt his face heat up as he murmured the sentiment, glaring at the alpha who smirked at him and wiggled his brows. “Oh fuck off Hyung.” 

“Loooovee youuuu Minnniieeeee” Chan drawled teasingly as the younger passed him, cackling when Seungmin flipped him off as he left the room. Chan carried you to his bed and set you down on the soft sheets. Then he gathered a tank top and a pair of his boxers for you to wear. 

“How was your day, Channie?” You asked him once you were dressed. 

He tossed his head back and forth with a grin. “I had a pretty good day. And by the smell in the house I could say you did too.” Your face heated up and you pouted. “You won’t be pouting for long, omega. I got you something special while I was gone.”

That perked you right up, eyes showing your excitement. “Really? What is it?” 

“Close your eyes.” You did as you were told, screwing your lids shut tight. You heard him shuffle until he was on his knees on the bed behind you. Ever so slightly you felt the coolness of a metal chain fall around your neck, and you could feel Chan clip it behind you. “You can open your eyes now my love.” 

You snapped them open and instantly looked down at the necklace. Hanging down on a little silver chain was a ‘C’ made of rose gold. You cradled the pendant and turned to face your alpha, your lip wobbling. “Oh Channie. I love it. Thank you so much.” You launched yourself into him and wrapped him in your arms. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” 

Chan felt sheepish all of a sudden, holding on to you just as tight. “You’re welcome, baby. I know you have my bite but I wanted you to have another little piece of me with you always. Somewhere I can stay close to your heart.” 

You were literally melting at his words, your heart feeling light in your chest as you squeezed him. “I love you Channie. So, so much. I’m so grateful to have you.” 

“Aww baby, I love you too. More than words could express.” He kissed the top of your head. 

Chan couldn’t imagine his life without you in it, he loved you so much. Hell, you were soulmates for crying out loud. He would do anything for you. Care for you, love you, protect you. And nothing and no one was going to take you from him. That he was certain. 

“Oh and I picked you up another pack of popsicles.” 

“Fuck yeah!” 

Looks like omega got eaten after all 😁And chan turned into quite the wolf didn't he 🐺😈

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

Also if any one wants to chat about the story or share predictions please send me an ask!!

Beta read by my loves @ayejaii and @jehhskz <3

©doitforbangchan

Taglist- Closed

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sorry to those whose tag isn’t working :(

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 05/July/2024

Not exactly the week I was hoping for this week, but I suppose it happens sometimes!

Me and Nai got absolutely slammed with stomach flu this week. We were wiped out Sunday and Monday, then finally thought we were over it Tuesday…only for it to hit us again in full force. So that was…fun, lol.

We did manage to push ourselves to move our working space to somewhere with stable internet finally! I’d actually forgotten what working internet was like until I loaded a webpage in the new space and it just loaded—just like that! :D

So hoping that will make a massive difference to just being able to do things smoothly now.

But whilst I was out of commission for a bit, I did manage to do a few things: as I was thinking over the coding and what’s coming up, I did realise there’s a massive bug for imported characters that I’ll be able to fix before imported characters are even enabled, so that’s a big thing!

Also, I designed the villain’s masquerade mask! I ADORE it so much! That will be up on Patreon as part of the sketch series I’m doing on there soon. Still have Nate/Nat’s and Farah/Felix’s masks to go in that series as well.

I also wrote a couple of loose scenes to keep me in the flow where the MC kind of ‘falls’ into an AU version of the love interest’s backstory and gets to experience it first hand, as well as interact with the vampires how they were back then.

It won’t be in the main series, but it was a seriously interesting writing exercise!

When we finally started feeling like we could stand up without the world spinning away around us, we really knuckled down to it!

I got the first part of the edits back from the editor, so I’m currently working on those.

I’m hoping to get Chapter Two into the demo some time at the end of this month pushing into early August as a loose idea of date, then Chapter Three and Four will be released together quite some time after that. But Chapter Two has A LOT going on that I really want to get out soon so I can chat about it with you all, hehe! ;D

Next week will be social media days, as well as pushing on with Chapter Three. I’m coming into a section that is seriously massive to write. It has three different versions to start with, as well as branching and variations within each version on top. But it does bring in the introduction of a new Unit, which I’m super excited for!

Hope you all have an amazing weekend! We’ll be offline as usual, so I'll update you all again next week! <3

[sweetestbasil]

RUBATOSIS || chapter two: bloating

PAIRING : Dr.Gaul's Assistant!Coriolanus Snow x Experiment!Reader-Insert ( afab, they / them, sometimes it, no explicit use of y/n )

RATING : 18+ ( tw body horror / slight sexual content )

WORD COUNT : 20, 501

WARNINGS : infidelity ( coryo's engaged to livia ), power imbalance, unreliable narrator ( it's 3rd POV but focuses on coryo's view ), unhealthy dynamics, dehumanizing language, medical experimentation, operation treated as a metaphor for sex, sexual disassociation, body horror-esque, coryo and gaul are messed up in this fic, he's more like his book version than movie

SUMMARY : 🙶 rubatosis - noun. the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat 🙷

Fortune, marriage, and success - all within the hands of Coriolanus Snow, and it still isn’t enough to satisfy him. Tigris has grown distant and Livia is far more trouble than it's worth. 

Dr. Gaul has just the solution for him.

A/N : Sorry for how long this took, work has kept me busy. If there are any mistakes let me know, and I hope you all like chapter two.

[ If you want to read it on AO3 instead ] [ chapter one ]

bloating || skin slippage - stage two of decomposition 

By now, he was already starting to feel ill. 

The beaded drops of sweat that started to latch itself onto the bare palms of his hands made them feel all the more off-putting. It made the effort of wanting ( at least, an attempt of so ) to keep a grip on the smooth skin between his fingers a far more burdensome task than needed. His hips shifting back and forth to meet with Livia’s; every single moment of their flesh meeting together, every moan and airy breath that was drawn out of her, it never failed to make him internally recoil. Since adolescent age, he always expected sex to feel passionate, the shot of nerves as if they were on fire from sheer pleasure. Festus had spoken such a great deal of it during meals at the Academy, leaning down into the group of their male peers and speaking in hushed whispers in fear someone nearby would listen in. It was hard not to feel delightfully shocked, with the flushed color on Festus’s cheeks, the juvenile gleam in his eyes. 

What a liar. 

Never once had he engaged in sexual activities himself prior to… to his graduation from the Academy. Only some heavy grabbing between perspired kisses, and maybe a rut, or two, with another. Livia had been his first, when it came to full on sexual intercourse. 

And what an exhausting experience it was! 

All that sweat, the cum, having to kiss Livia repeatedly to get the room a bit more quiet - he felt like he had been robbed. Was this not supposed to be some pivotal moment? That some inner, ‘carnal desire’ that others had boasted about would be satiated the moment he lost virginity. Yet, in the end, all he did was feel more empty, starved than he was before having sex with Livia. Starved he still was, when he walked in and out the doors of Pluribus Bell’s nightclubs. Coriolanus wondered at times, where he found himself bare and pressed against another, if there was something wrong with him. Or if maybe, if it was someone else, had it been any one of those two, would he have felt anything.

He didn’t want to question it further. 

In the end, Livia always rested on the other side of his bed satisfied. If he was lucky enough to cum himself; he’d try to either sleep the experience off, or leave his place quickly with an offhand excuse, depending on the time. 

His tired eyes gazed up from the expanse of Livia’s back. Coriolanus was grateful that today Livia and him fell into a position where the both of them didn’t have to make eye contact with each other. If he stared too long at just one thing, there was a chance his eyes might just become blind from desensitization. Peeks of daybreak managed their way through the dark, rich curtains of his bedroom window. The light casted over his bed in a restrained fashion, hitting his right bare shoulder and slightly onto the lower spine of Livia. He’d soon have to get ready for work after this was all done. 

What a freak, he sounded like. 

That he was far more excited to be working than being caught by the charms of another woman. A woman that eventually, in just a few months, was going to be the wife, the mother of his children, the one he comes home to. It felt like a nightmare. Maybe this was the “ball and chain”; that the breathing fossils in suits would harp on about at social functions, emptied bottles of posca rolling beside their sleek shoes on the floor.

Lazily, he slid his left hand up from its gripped position on Livia’s waist. The sweat between them making the glide smooth, as he ran his fingers up her shoulder blades. In all their mornings and nights, spent wrapped in the sweltering sheets, Coriolnaus doesn’t think he’s ever seen any noticeable blemishes on Livia. No freckles, no moles, no beauty marks. Not even a small scar from playing too rough in the playground. There was no argument that could be made: Livia Cardew is the perfect Capital woman. The clean expanse of flesh and the untainted blood that ran underneath spoke levels enough. 

But, it also made her obscenely bland.

Sure, she’s ambitious. 

Livia could be quite the cutthroat when needed, if it meant the spotlight and praise was on her. It was the few things they had in common. Though, there was no physical sign to her character, aside from her sense of fashion and the style of hair she did each morning. Even then, anyone with half a mind might protest if any of that really was part of her. Livia’s never shy when it comes to chasing the current trends of Panem. But, what’s so good about being a trend chaser if you don’t even anything else more remarkable? By all means, become the beacon of hope to the everyday Capital citizen. Tell them that with enough wealth, maybe they can buy their way into a personality, too. 

Grimacing, the sensation of Livia’s body tightening around him brought him out of his daze. She was close to finishing. Meaning he was closer to being able to leave. Though, a crumb of uncertainty lodged itself into Coriolanus. It was something he dealt with before. 

There was just a small window of time to decide: should he try to finish alongside Livia, or should he cum alone in his bathroom, after. 

Maybe if she stopped moving her hips so wildly against him, it’d give him more space to think. His fingers slid back down her spine, the faintest shape of the laminae was jutting out, as Livia arched her back against him. Coriolanus leaned his face down, starting from the bottom of her spine he pressed his lips against her skin. Trailing open-mouthed kisses up, the salty taste of her perspiration lingered itself on his tongue. It made him internally recoil. 

He’d have to scrub his teeth a bit more thoroughly, before he headed off to work. 

Coriolanus felt bad for Livia’s parents. They most likely hoped that by setting this arrangement with Livia and him, that eventually, the two of them could become obsessed with each other. The truth of the matter is, sex between them both was just more so a formality. Something to give this engagement a sense of normalcy. He definitely wasn’t Livia’s type, and she wasn’t his. His type was… Coriolanus wondered, if Livia carried more imperfections on her, would she have appealed more to him?

He tried to see it. 

What would he have here instead, if not just the vast expanse of soft skin. Sheltered away, easy access to the finest things Panem had to offer a girl. Would some blemishes be nice on Livia? It could be cute, if she was flustered about it. A mole? No, Coriolanus wouldn’t consider that an imperfection, unlike Livia. Maybe a scar? That could be interesting, they usually carried a story. Some uneven patches of skin that haven't healed perfectly, possibly from a botched stitch job. 

His hand reached up to brush aside the sweat soaked ends of Livia’s hair, away from her neck. He could see it now, the image of that messy, metaphorical scar. The slight discoloration, the dip in the muscle, showing him just how deep the wound went. Coriolanus kissed the nape of her neck.

What would it be like to run his tongue along it? 

The hand that was so firmly placed on Livia’s hip, left its spot. Instead, he moved it farther down and under her. How would Livia react, if he put so much attention on an imperfection of hers? Would it draw a choked out sound from her, an embarrassing reaction? It would be so different from the prideful image she carried everyday. Livia’s hips jerked against his own, as his fingers slid themselves between her soaked folds and up. Reaching her clit, his middle finger played with it to help her between the gasps of breath. They both hated each other, but Livia could never call him a selfish lover. Even if he wished for more from her. Even if he desired to see her as someone, something, different as she fell apart under his touch. 

How funny would it be, if he took a page from Dr. Gaul’s book. Have her undergo a similar treatment to Project Prometheus, let her be redone as a blank slate. Coriolanus thought about it for a second; the lines of stitches that he traced so carefully under his gloved fingers. 

The pace of his hips stuttered. 

A sharp intake from his nostrils, Coriolanus quickly bit down on Livia’s neck to prevent the sound of a moan leaving his lips. He could feel the discomforting sensation of the condom filling up. It made his body shudder at the feeling, Livia’s back pressed flush against his chest. Slowly, gradually, his teeth removed themselves from Livia’s skin, taking steady breaths between his lips to try and collect himself. He brushed back a curled strand of golden hair from his forehead, the hair slightly soaked from sweat. 

Well… Isn’t this just humiliating for him? The briefest thought about work somehow got him to finish. 

He really was a freak. 

Not that he’d tell a soul on earth about this. Imagine the stares he’d get if he confessed that thinking about work gets him to cum. Not the body of his fiance, not a pretty face under dark lights. Work. They’d be convinced that it may have been a better option to have abandoned him at District 12, rather than bring him back to the Capital. Coriolanus moved himself away from Livia, lifting himself off of her to stand his back tall once more. He grimaced throughout the entire movement, as the sweltering touch of their skin together was becoming far too noticeable for his liking. He was reminded again, about how much he could withstand Livia before his patience wore thin. 

“That… was interesting…” Livia spoke in a breathy tone, a slight whimper at the end as Coriolanus pulled himself out of her. 

He offered the back of her head a brief glance, before continuing to pull the condom off of him and tie it. “Something wrong?” He never really bothered to speak enthusiastically to Livia. The one time he did try to talk softly to her when they were alone, she threw him a look of disgust and told him to stop. That she found it ‘creepy’. 

Livia shifted herself further into his bed, bringing her arms under one of his fine cotton pillows to nestle her face further into it. She stretched her limbs out, ankles crossing over each other. Great, she was making herself comfortable. 

“No, nothing’s wrong.” She must think she’s hilarious for playing coy. “I’m just surprised you managed to stick through the entire thing. For a moment, I was almost worried for your health. You know, impotence is not just for the old.” 

“Very funny, Livia.” 

He wanted her out already. 

Doesn’t she have any friends she should go visit? Or a family waiting for her?

He didn’t bother to look at her, instead getting up from the bed to move to his nightstand. Coriolanus grabbed the alarm clock that rested on it, holding the smooth frame of wood in his hands. Checking the time was far more interesting than participating in this conversation. It was pointless banter, with Livia just trying to get a rise out of him. 

“I should say the same to you. What happened to ‘just wanting to rest for the night’?” 

It was just shy of six thirty in the morning. 

His ears picked on the sound of Livia sucking her teeth a few spaces behind him. Coriolanus rolled his eyes, placing the alarm clock back down with a quiet thud. Quietly, with steady steps, he walked past the lush, wine-colored carpet under his bed and into the connecting door that led to his bathroom. He turned the light switch on, its warm hue from the intricately adorned wall lamps illuminated the entire space. 

Before, it always used to be a jarring experience to feel the icy tile of the bathroom floor, it was a miracle if the heater didn’t manage to bust down during the night. Now, stepping his bare foot in without a care, the mosaic marble floor didn’t make him want to jump out of his skin. There was an adequate warmth from the heaters lined at the bottom of the floors. Though, he did slightly ( barely ) miss the cold. If his alarm clock failed to jolt him awake for class, he could always depend on the freezing appliances and water to finish the job. He turned, facing the large sink vanity. The top of the sink was made from sleek ceramic marble, with the cabinets beneath it being made from polished blackwood. Lined against the wall under the vanity, stood a multitude of care products he had taken to purchase for himself. However, something curious caught Coriolanus’s eye. Livia had made her own small collection here, too. Not as plentiful as he had, considering this is his bathroom, but she had her own products that she often left behind. A ‘just in case’, when she stayed nights here.

Coriolanus was half tempted to tell her to get rid of them. If the products were that important, she could carry it in a duffel bag when she came over. Or, she could just handle doing a brisk walk of shame to her chauffeur's car, so she could go home and wash herself. His home wasn’t her extra storage unit. 

Outside his bedroom door, he could hear just the faintest sounds of someone moving on the floor below. It was very quiet, the slightest noise of clanging pots and pans. The warm smell of coffee being brewed and warm cooking oil bled through the halls of the estate, and seeped under the cracks of the door. Perfect, the cook came in just in time. If he was lucky, the cook would finish his breakfast just before he came down and he’d be able to finish it quickly before work. Just before Livia could come down. He hadn’t forgotten her actions previously, he noticed how eager she seemed to make a pattern. 

Wasn’t this supposed to be his place of comfort? 

Here he was in his new home, trying to get some independence away from his family and a woman he didn’t even love was intruding upon it. Coriolanus took the toothbrush from its ceramic holder on the wall, wetting the bristles under the turned on faucet before applying the paste. Bringing it up and into his mouth, he started to scrub thoroughly. The phone connected to his bedside had started to ring. Coriolanus made a gesture to move his body to get it, but Livia beat him to it. 

He’d let her take it, for now. He wasn’t fond of it, but if his fiance was the one answering the phone, it’d sell their image of a ‘perfect marriage’ better. 

He glanced from the corner of the doorway to see Livia take the handset of the black dial phone in her hands, before he went back to finish brushing his teeth. She answered in a faux sweet tone: 

“Livia Cardew, soon to be Livia Snow, speaking.” 

Ew. 

Just broadcast to the whole world at this point. Hearing her say it aloud brought a chill down his spine. It was true, but it still was a jarring reality to accept.

“Oh, Tigris! Good morning, how are you?” 

Coriolanus quickly spat out the paste from his mouth, the mixture of its foam and his spit splattered against the drain. 

“Coriolanus? He’s in the bathroom right now. Do you want me to go grab him for you?” 

Was his heart racing? He felt like his heart was racing. 

His hand gripped at the edges of the marble top, while the other reached to turn back on the faucet. Trembling, his fingers, wrapping around the lever to lift it up and twist to warm. It had been a moment since Tigris sought to call him. Since he left home, it’s always been him to reach out. If he just left it up to her, he feared that he’d only hear from her once a year. She’d probably like it to be that way, too, knowing her. But, he’d never let it happen. He was always going to remind her of the fact that the both of them are family. Regardless of what he did, what he’ll do, the connection of blood between them was never going to diminish. He had lost them, he wasn’t going to let himself lose her, too. 

Maybe he should wash his mouth out quicker, to go and speak to her, Coriolanus reasoned. 

His hands cupped around the running water, bringing it up to his mouth to swish it around. What did Tigris want to tell him? Was it something mundane? Did she want to check on him? But, it was unlikely, unless Tigris miraculously had a change of heart through the night. Which meant most likely she was calling for an emergency. That made his heart sink worse at the thought. Had Grandma’am’s health declined? Did a doctor notice an abnormality in Tigris’s body?

“You just wanted him to relay something to me? Well, I’m here now, I’m all ears.”

Coriolanus spit the water out his mouth, and grabbed the mouthwash for extra measure. 

…So. 

She didn’t want to speak to him. 

She just wanted him to play sweet messenger boy for Livia. 

Taking the small amount of mouthwash into his mouth, he closed his lips to swirl it around the crevices inside. The sound of Livia’s conversation with Tigris began to drown itself out into a white noise. Coriolanus didn’t really care what they were talking about anymore. It wasn’t for him, so it really didn’t matter. He should’ve expected the result. But, it stung just a bit, knowing that she preferred Livia over him. He never expected that designing one dress somehow endeared the seamstress to the client. 

What did that mean for him? Tigris had designed, fixed, and traded the majority of his clothes. Was there a limit? Too much work, and suddenly the seamstress only answers calls when the full moon is out and the lucky lottery color of the day is green. Coriolanus spit the mouthwash out into the sink, the strong taste of medicinal mint left on his tongue. Not a single trace of Livia’s taste remained. His hand held onto the faucet’s lever, twisted it back to turn it off. The sleek, cool material of brass slipped out from his fingers, as he brought his palm down. Across the smooth marble top and down to grip at its edges, where it hung just a bit over the blackwood cabinet. Distantly, he watched the remnants of water slowly leak down to the drain. 

What had he done? Coriolanus genuinely wanted to know.  What had he done, personally, to Tigris, that made her so distasteful towards him? 

Ever since he had come back from District 12, when he had told her that he was to be accepted into the University and work under Dr. Gaul’s assistant full-time, Tigris had spoken to him so meekishly, so quietly. When he, on the other hand, had hoped to share this joy with his beloved cousin. Having been recently discharged from that hellscape, and finding new success by his merits finally being acknowledged, Strabo Plinth taking him on as a replacement son - he thought she’d be happy for him. That with their penthouse now off the market, that it spoke to a new wave of golden years for the Snow family. They could finally go back to where things used to be. No longer did they have to worry so much about helping Grandma’am up the stairs, when the elevator broke down. No more, did Tigris have to go through tight street corners and rusted alleyways to exchange goods. Was this not what they wanted? What she wanted? 

Coriolanus’s jaw locked into a grit, his knuckles tightening in grip. 

Did she just want something new to coddle and dote on? That maybe, rather it being something wrong with him; he just no longer appealed to her naive delusions. Was he not still, the same young boy who’d hold her hand during festivals…? Something glazed over his eyes and he blinked it away quickly, raising his head back up to look at his own reflection. 

No, this shouldn’t discourage him. 

If anything, it should invigorate him more to proceed with this damned wedding. If dangling Livia on a hook was what it took to keep Tigris still in contact with him, then so be it. And if she grew tired of Livia, then he’d bring her a new one. The pound never ran out of pets to parade. 

Coriolanus walked over to the shower, turning it on. Sliding open the glass panels just a smidge more, for his body to slip through. He let the shower head rain over him, wetting his pushed back hair; the combed out strands starting to curl under the exposure, falling along his forehead. Coriolanus was thankful, for the beating sound of water hitting the tiles. It drowned out even more, the noise of Livia’s voice. Her obnoxious laughter was almost non-existent at this point. His hand reached out to the indented shelf built into the shower wall, touching the honed, pine green porcelain tiles. A different focus was what he needed. He needed something else to think about. 

Grabbing the bottle of body wash, and the hanging shower luffa, he popped the bottle open. The smell of vanilla and roses touched the steamed air. Lathering the luffa against his hand, when the foam of soapy bubbles finally formed, he brought it towards his body. What a luxury it was, to be able to use things like shower gels and brushes, rather than a bar of mediocre soap and a worn-out rag. He scrubbed the luffa against his body, ‘til his skin started to look red and it felt sore against the hot water. The Citadel didn’t necessarily carry out a specific requirement of cleanliness, but working with other researchers and touching dangerous materials and waste alike; a thorough wash seemed second nature for the job. And the easily swooned crowds of Capital elites always enjoyed a well-groomed figure to stand behind. 

If he showed up and greeted Dr. Gaul with the slightest speck of dirt under his nails, she’d chew him out viciously. He’s seen her humiliate workers for less at the Citadel, forcing them to endure the embarrassment of washing their hands in front of her until she’s satisfied. Coriolanus feared that due to their ‘friendly’ bond, she might even go as far as to wash his hands herself. Dr. Gaul’s pruned hands touching his own? He shuddered. A grimace forced his lips into a frown. Closing his eyes to chase out the thought, he brought his head under the water. He scrubbed the conditioner out until he no longer felt any residue in his hair.

He wanted to focus on something else. 

Watching the suds of soap slowly enter the drain, he tried to think of Livia. When he dried off, would she still be in bed? They’ve seen each other naked plenty of times, but getting ready together… That felt like a level of intimacy that Coriolanus was not keen on sharing with her. She might even feel the same. He hummed quietly to himself as he turned off the hot water. When they eventually move in together, he should consider making her a personal room in the mansion. He could only tolerate sharing a bed with her some nights. It wasn’t everyday of the week she stayed over, which is why he never spoke out before. Sighing through his mouth, his hand rubbed the bridge of his nose. He slid open the glass shower panel, extending his arm out first, to grab the crimson, cotton towel from the brass hanger. The soft towel was promptly wrapped around his head to shuffle around his wet locks, drying it just well enough before stretching out the fabric to wrap around his waist. Mist from the shower followed after him, as he stepped out of it. 

As he made his way back to the sink vanity, he noticed the vague shape of something left next to the sink bowl. He picked it up in his hands, the discarded, salmon colored toothbrush of Livia; wet in his hands. Coriolanus’s face pulled a frown, placing it back correctly. Since when did Tigris and her finish talking? He barely noticed Livia entering and using the bathroom while he showered. Grabbing onto the doorframe of the bathroom, he peeked his head out slightly. 

No Livia resting in bed. 

His clothes for the day were already picked out for him, laying there instead at the foot of his bed. A relief he didn’t know he craved, filled him immediately. 

Blue eyes moved to another target of focus, noticing quite clearly the empty space where one of his robes should very obviously be. And the dread had made its way back into his system!

Coriolanus zipped his head back into the bathroom. 

Quickly, he thought. Quickly, he needed to finish getting ready, grabbing the bottle of moisturizer in one hand and plugging in the blowdryer in the other. She is trying to corner him at the breakfast table today. What more did she want? Does she need a favor? Is it another ‘date’? He prayed it wasn’t the latter. He wants to go into work on a good note. Coriolanus checked his face in the mirror; clear of any new, stray hairs around his lips and chin. Flicking out the tooth comb from its place, he took a small amount of pomade and brushed his ( mostly ) dried hair back and to the side. The curls in his hair smoothed themselves out against the comb’s teeth. In his transition back to his room, the towel that loyally clung to his hips was left discarded on the bathroom floor; his legs swiftly moving to slot themselves into a new, clean pair of underwear. He didn’t think much as he put on the ironed white button up, adorning the fitted waist vest over it and matching deep-red colored trousers that hid the black, cotton sock garters underneath. Carefully, he looped the rich black leather belt through the loops of the slack, a satisfying clink from the buckle when he locked in place. With one last look in the mirror, necessities all gathered, and a spray of cologne, he fit himself into his shoes and went out the bedroom door and where he knew Livia was waiting for him.

“Chef, if you could please, pack my breakfast and coffee to go. I have to head into work soon,” Coriolanus actually had thirty minutes to spare. Frankly, he could lounge around and start up a new book if he wanted. 

“What? You’re not even late, you’re perfectly on time!” Livia cried out, her head turned to his figure now entering the room. 

Sitting just right across from his usual seat, she was wearing the oh-so-familiar robe that was missing before. The entire round table, covered by a white table-cloth and a vase of freshly plucked white roses at the center, was filled to each end with an abundance of food. Varying ranges to pancakes and crepes, bowls of yogurt and sliced fruits, to freshly cooked eggs and meats such as sausages, sliced ham, and bacon. He wished so badly that he could take his time to pick out his selection and eat. But, alas. Coriolanus walked over to Livia, his overcoat and gloves already being put on. A hand against the top of her chair, he leaned his head down to give a kiss to the side of her cheek; Livia grumbled under her breath in response. The cook he hired belonged to him, they would never snitch about the facade between them, but one was never too sure. 

“I’m sorry, Dr. Gaul called me in,” A lie, but nothing outlandish. “You know how she can be, I don’t want to keep her waiting.” 

Livia rolled her eyes at him before going to pick at her plate, her fork poking a bit at the strawberries and bananas she had on her pancakes. He raised an eyebrow, faking a questionable gaze. Internally, however, he was gloating in self-satisfaction. His fears in the morning shower were shown to be warranted, as he watched her. Livia looked akin to a spoiled child who had just been told no. 

“Is something wrong? What happened?” Coriolanus brought the hand away from her chair, bringing it down to touch her shoulder. He gave it a small squeeze, an extra effort to really upsell his image of a ‘loving husband’. 

A sigh came from Livia’s lips. 

“Nothing’s wrong.” Then she should stop throwing a tantrum. “I was just hoping to talk to you about my wedding dress. Tigris finally secured all the material, so she wants me to come in to do some fittings while she gets started on it.” 

So that’s what his cousin wasted his call-line on. For something so trivial, too. The Cardew’s home-line should be working just fine: or did Mommy Cardew waste too much money on her trophy of a husband and neglect the phone bill?

“Really? Well, that’s great news, isn’t it!” Coriolanus laughed at the end of his words. Frankly, it was terrible news. It just reminded him constantly of the looming date. It hung over his head like a jail sentence. “What do you need me for? It seems you two have it handled here,” He tried to make his words sound encouraging, but he couldn’t help the slight envy that skipped in his tone. Livia knew it too. This time, she was the one raising a brow back at him.

“I thought you’d be curious to see what we planned. I have the sketch Tigris drew up right here,” 

Coriolanus’s brows creased, the smile dropping slightly off his face. He gave her a look of confusion. He wasn’t really quite sure what she was expecting out of him seeing her dress. Validation? Praise? Or, could she see right past him. Maybe she had sourced out the root to his bitter tone. He wondered what Tigris and her spoke about in these appointments. They likely gossiped about him. No doubt Tigris gave her pitiful woes to Livia, how terrified she was to see him again in person. That even a phone call with him had her fingers trembling when it spun the dial. And Livia, undoubtedly ate it all up. It’s why she wanted to show him the sketch. Show him just how close the two became. Coriolanus grinded his teeth internally, the slightest nudge of his jaw ticked.

Her hands reached into his robe that she wore, the sound of paper being shuffled and rustled around being heard. Did she keep other papers in there? She couldn’t possibly be turning some of his belongings into hers. Maybe he should think twice about leaving Livia alone in his home. With manicured nails, Livia pulled out a folded piece of sketch paper, a slight crease at the edge. Opening it up, she placed the paper on the table first. With one hand, Livia did her best at smoothing the edges out before handing it over to him. A simple ‘Here’ was all she said. 

Coriolanus accepted the paper, embarrassingly quick, soaking in its details. 

The paper was made of coarse, recycled sketch paper, giving a tan hue. There was a smell of graphite and ink that lifted off the paper. Scribbled in the corner were small, little drawings. Variety of poses and designs that have crossed out under ink, ideas that no longer worked. The drawing that had taken the majority of the page was a quick mock sketch of assumingly, Livia. Her hair was pinned up in a stacked bun style, with a pearl caul piece on it. Pins of white roses and buds placed at random adorned the head. Expectantly, the veil was made to match it. A mesh see through material, with rosebuds and pearls scattered around, lace at the ends of it. A pearl necklace was adorned on the sketch’s neck. The dress was a sweetheart neckline, plunged and fitted at the top with white embroidery. The fabric near sheer underneath, turning more opaque when it hit the waist, fitted all until the ankle, where the dress flared and spread. White rosebuds were sprinkled around the calf line, blooming into full flowers as it reached the bottom. Curious though, that the white rosebuds gradually transitioned to red flowers when it touched the ends. It gave the silhouette of Livia’s pure white dress having been dragged through blood. Coriolanus couldn’t understand why Livia would agree to the design. It felt like Tigris was trying to push some personal agenda forward by doing so. He knew there were few elders who still carried the belief that wearing red at a wedding meant something scandalous. Back before, when Panem had yet to be made. Something about being intimate with the groom? Livia is his fiance, so most attendants would hope they’ve slept together. 

Did Tigris believe he was supposed to be promised with another? 

He ‘dated’ ( was used by ) only one person.

Coriolanus sucked his teeth. 

“You don’t like the dress?” 

“No, that’s not it,” He might downright hate the dress, actually. If his assumption is right. Coriolanus paused in between his words. Usually, he’d have no issue throwing verbal jabs at Livia. It was a thing that both did to each other. However. It’d be humiliating for him to admit out loud that she needed to change the dress because of a past ex. He sighed, 

“I just… slightly regret not asking Tigris to design my suit, too.” Ugh, that sounded too vulnerable now. He needed to reel back in. “Thank you for showing it to me, though. I’ll send you the name of my designer later to send it over, it’ll be nice to have matching attire for our wedding.” He handed the paper back to Livia. Her eyes had an unreadable look to them, as if wanting to say something else. His skin itched under her sight. Don’t say anything. Don’t say–

“Mr. Snow, I have your breakfast packed and ready,” 

Eagerly, Coriolanus diverted his gaze away from Livia, giving her the briefest ‘apologetic’ glances before turning his head. Emerging from the connecting hall that led to the kitchen, the cook had taken a step forward towards him. In one hand, they held two breakfast sausages, each one wrapped with an omelette; they were held in tight, folded wax paper to avoid the food’s oil spreading. The other, held the mug of coffee, and a folded, square, white box carrier made of cardboard on their spare fingers. The carrier held minimal, barely any, patterns. Small etchings of abatina flowers and leaves on it. The corners of lips ticked up gradually at the sight of it, a hint of teeth poking out from his smile. His mood had started to turn itself up slowly. The situation just seconds before, now was taking a backseat in his psyche. This, needed his attention. And he’d gladly give it. He didn’t want to think about Tigris anymore. He didn’t want to think about the wedding. Coriolanus reached his hand over to take his belongings away from the cook. 

Just think about work today. 

“Thank you, you know I always appreciate your work here.” They were getting paid a hefty paycheck, he’d sure hope they were putting their best in everything. “If you mind telling me, what’s in here today?” He was gesturing to the carrier. Lifting it slightly in the air with his finger to emphasize it. 

“It’s a cheesecake, with a slightly burned outer layer.” 

His eyes creased slightly with his smile. 

“Perfect, thank you.” 

Coriolanus turned his head back to Livia, who had finally started to eat away at her plate, rather than play. Catching her mid-bite, he asked, as any future husband would: “Will you be here when I come back?” If the cook wasn’t here, Livia would’ve sneered harshly at his feigned curiosity. 

“We’ll see. I have some extended family visiting today after my appointment with Tigris,” Oh, so the circus was getting back together. “If you get off work early, you should come by. They’d love to see you.” He’s sure they would. 

“We’ll see,” 

He repeated the words back to her, before dipping his head back down to give her another kiss. This one just shy above her lips, before pulling away and finally leaving the estate’s premises. Coriolanus hoped his displays of affection ruined her morning, just as her presence ruined his. 

The crisp, cold air outside waited for him, keeping him company as he made his trek to the Citadel. Weaving carefully through other citizens, it was thankfully less crowded than normal. He managed to avoid the morning rush of workers; a consolation, that he didn’t have to worry too much about accidentally bumping into someone with his full hands. The steady buzz of the moving trolleys, the humble, yet luxurious cars that drove through Panem’s streets, was at a far lower frequency. Low, and only the occasional loud noise from shops and stores getting to open, the bells of the door a distant chime. He felt almost alone. A great contrast from the minimal chaos before. It gave him space, it gave him clarity. The quietness gave him time to think. Coriolanus tried to ease himself down, as he took his first sip of coffee. He should find the change of scenery liberating. If he stayed any longer in that suffocating environment, he feared he would have snapped right then and there. The headlines would be clear as day: ‘Snow & Plinth Heir Strangles Fiance in their New Home’! He’d lose everything if he couldn’t keep his patience in check. The tightrope he walked on always was fine, and narrow. Everything he did had an audience, and each step he took had an effect. All he wanted was just a moment to breathe. 

A steady exhale from his mouth, careful to not be so loud in the tame atmosphere. The movement causing the carrier in his fingers to jostle a bit. 

That’s right, he still had this under his control. 

It’s such a simple thing to bring his thoughts back down to the concrete path he walked. The weight of the carrier in his hand felt significantly lighter, easier to hold amongst the other things he carried. It gave his tense mind a small fuse of excitement. Curiosity lit his neurons anew, wondering what Subject A01’s reaction would be to the ‘gift’. He had the cook make it specifically for them. Since he held the first exam for the subject, he’s made it a habit to visit it. Not too often, to not cause a rise of suspicion, but enough to satisfy what he needed. Three times a week seemed fair enough. It had only been just a month since. 

Coriolanus saw a first glimpse of how Dr. Gaul had conditioned it and affected its mind with only simple verbal conferences. He wanted to take that approach and raise it further: the introduction of spoils to Project Prometheus. 

It started small. First, it was small things like hard delights. Hard caramels, strawberry suckers, or tart lemon candy. He’d speak to it, asking questions and probing, coaxing more answers out of them. Coriolanus noted before how limited and short the subject’s responses were. When the subject had started to speak more, he brought them more elaborate sweets. Moving away from candy, he re-introduced simple, but satisfying delicacies back to their tongue. Butter cookies, bites of meringue, and pieces of milk chocolate. He knew that the subject was being fed enough at Lab C09, the fact that their bones didn’t protrude abnormally back in the exam showed that. However, he knew it most definitely wasn’t enough to satiate. He knew hunger well, he’s starved through these familiar streets before. But, even when he had to succumb to the bland boil of potatoes and dated cans of food from the Dark Days; his young self always craved more. Reminiscing of times of sweet toffee and rich peanut brittle he used to eat at festivals while feasting on dubious scrapped food. Project Prometheus’s brain was a blank slate so, infuriatingly, memories of such possible past luxuries meant nothing to them. But, it was smart enough to see the obvious difference between bland slop for meals, and carefully crafted desserts. 

It’s so funny, Coriolanus thought. How malleable they’ve become under his hand. 

Ever since he started this routine of greeting them, engaging in conversation, smiling at them, giving them a treat at the end; he noticed how much they’ve changed since then. While still very transparent with him, they used to be more withdrawn, he observed. They still have an issue with being more expressive facial-wise, but he could sense the bits of shyness now within their body language. Everytime he comes to Lab C09 and they see him walking past the glass-pane walls, they eagerly wait for him. It did something to his ego, to see this thing be so excited by his mere presence. Sitting on the examination table, its legs kicking back and forth in the air as it waited idly. Or sometimes, on occasion, he’d find it napping on the exam table. He was more partial to the latter, the silence, the resting expression, completely unguarded; it was almost beguiling. All of it far more tolerable than the people he had to deal with outside of the lab. The subject should feel honored. A former rebel was somehow more pleasing to share a space with than most Capital citizens. He knew he felt so honored, when he was with it. Unconsciously, Subject A01 had begun to revere his presence. He could see, in the small pauses of conversation, it was internally salivating. Waiting for him to show the next gift he had for it. Kind, that was the word Project Prometheus had called him. 

And was he not the kindest person in the Citadel, maybe even Panem, for doing this? 

Coriolanus doubted any other person would ever think to feed a prisoner. A former rebel. They’d run the moment the subject tried to touch them. He’d even bet some would shriek when they saw how disheveled it was. And yet, here he was. Feeding it like he would a pet. Except this one could communicate back. It told him its favorite color, the animals it remembered, what sweets it preferred from the array he brought in, and the temperature it liked in the lab. Things of personal interest were hard to answer, due to the lack of memory. To make it up to him for this, it described other things to him. It said to him how almost the majority of Lab C09 was renovated for them. Specific doors that tunneled them into different rooms: the examination room, the washroom, the operation room, and its cell bed. It believed that it was for its ease of access. Coriolanus deduced it was to avoid having Project Prometheus use the same halls as the Citadel workers, keeping its movements restricted and monitored. The subject made it a habit to head to the examination room everyday, as that’s usually where Dr. Gaul would be. If something else was needed, the Peacekeepers spoke to the subject through intercoms to notify it. He had asked if it ever tried speaking to the Peacekeepers personally. It hadn’t, finding itself too paralyzed to try. Perhaps a muscle memory, trauma from when it was taken away. He asked if it did anything to stave off the time. 

It told him that it would just wait for him. 

“Good morning,” Coriolanus spoke with a bright smile on his face, greeting the front desk of the Citadel. 

The clerk’s eyes widened at the sight of him, having been in the middle of taking a sip from their mug. Quickly, swallowing it down, dabbing the edges of their pink lipstick with a napkin. “You’re here early, Mr. Snow!” A laugh came out from their slightly smudged lips. Had he really come in that early? Coriolanus knew it was a bit much to expect levels of professionalism at all hours, but if they were in a work setting, there should be some self-imposed standard. He always sees the clerk so put together at all times, a few minutes of difference shouldn’t change that. “Good morning to you, too and welcome back!”

The usual hivemind of workers that he saw every time he came in was far more dwindled down, right now. The smell of coffee beans brewing had yet to stain the air, only wisps of it on occasion. People were still getting their day ready before the clock started. The underlying scent of chemicals was far more prominent, with nothing to hide it. To any outsider, it would’ve been nauseating. But, it gave a heavy-handed reminder to guests the purpose of the Citadel.

“Is Dr. Gaul at the usual?” Chuckling at the end of his words. Coriolanus pointed at the top of his upper lip, tapping it, indicating to the clerk the smudge. Did they not own a mirror, or compact, of sorts? 

“O-Oh–!” They quickly dabbed their lips again with a napkin. Much better. He gave the ‘ok’ sign with his fingers. “Y-Yes, she should be.”

“Thank you, you have a good day,”

With one last smile to the front desk clerk, he turned his way to the direction of Lab H05. Heading down the familiar hallway, only a few workers occasionally passed by him. With no rush on either side, they could take the time to exchange pleasantries. Saying good morning to one, complimenting the other on their makeup, and another giving flattery to his choice of apparel. Often, Coriolanus never really bothered himself with things like this. A nod and a smile was enough to make the others feel special. Today’s different, he supposed. Or, maybe it’s something gradual that has been building up. He felt fine for the most part, but maybe that was a trick of the mind. The sign that his mind was on the verge of collapsing soon. There was so much already piling up on him and the clock hadn’t even struck eight yet. Coriolanus worried if he was going to be able to come back home mentally sound by the end of it all. Would Dr. Gaul ever fancy the opportunity of playing therapist for a day? She could be dependable. She’s seen, and made some, if not almost all, the skeletons in his closet. 

No, Coriolanus feared if he went to her it’d just make him worse. If he admitted to her aloud that he trusted her as a confidant, the disgust he’d feel at her uncensored glee. 

Maybe he really was going crazy. 

The warmth of the Citadel was starting to feel sweltering beneath the layers he wore. Coriolanus could feel the slightest damp sensation building at the back of his neck. 

“Are you here, Dr. Gaul?”

Coriolanus peeked his head into Lab H05 through the doorway carefully. Catching the familiar silhouette of curly hair through his gaze, he knew the gleam of red, latex leather flexing under the fluorescent lights. 

“Coryo,” The breathy, saccharine way she said it still brought him waves of nausea. His stomach turned. Whatever happened to the benefits of exposure therapy? Were they just never going to reap in this case? “Please, come in.”

Taking full steps in, there hadn’t been much change to the facility. Only that more shelves had been placed in, making two passageways that were farther against the walls more crowded. Dr. Gaul’s projects were her trophies, and she loved to show off. Even if it made her the weirdest one at parties. She sat at the center of the lab, where all the shelves slowly faded out and stasis tanks became more prominent, perfectly lined up. Of course, an egotistical lady would want her work to quite literally center around her. On a chair of fine, navy leather, bounded up by wheels on the bottom, she sat beside a decently sized writing desk made of dark, walnut wood. The desk was placed near the edge of the center, close to the large stasis tanks that held larger specimens. They lined the edges of the circle, as if a far more grotesque equivalent of statued idols. Their height was impressive, how they almost halfway reached the ceiling, dwarfing almost anything nearby. At the sound of his shoes closing in on her location, she turned in her chair, facing him entirely. Smile and all, with her dazzling row of teeth on display. 

“My, Coryo… Has Ms. Cardew turned your alarm clock back a few minutes?” Coriolanus was thankful that Dr. Gaul didn’t refer to her as ‘Mrs. Snow.’ “How sweet, the stage of couple mischief has already started.”

“I suppose you could put it like that.” With a laugh, he wanted to leave it at that. 

Coriolanus could see the way Dr. Gaul’s brows lifted in curious glee when he spoke. He’d let her mind run with whatever conclusions it jumped to, seeing how much fun it brought her. It must be hard to find entertainment in old age. Taking another leather chair besides Dr. Gaul, this one lacking the back Dr. Gaul’s chair had, resembling more of a cushioned stool; he took his seat next to her. He placed down the coffee, carrier, and meal at the table, away from the documents Dr. Gaul was bent over moments before. Taking off his leather gloves, he folded it in his overcoat pocket before taking off the overcoat and folding it as well, besides his belongings. Coriolanus made himself comfortable, and with a quick glance, he peeked at the documents. There, sat a manila folder, a report, with familiar font and writing he knew well. His hands fingered its pages often, looking through it. 

Project Prometheus’s folder. 

… Had there been new developments? 

Why else would Dr. Gaul have its case file open today. He couldn’t imagine something bad happening, physically. By the looks of it, the subject had no ounce of rebellion left, it couldn’t comprehend a reason why to fight anymore. It surely had to be something mental. Had the subject’s mental decay reached a point of no return? Had it forgotten Dr. Gaul, now? Him? He’d be pissed, if so. All that sweat, blood, and effort wasted away because Project Prometheus couldn’t be bothered anymore. It said to hell with not just the past, let's get rid of the present, and future, too! Coriolanus was going to murder it, he was sure. He couldn’t lose his stress-release now. Especially when he needed it most of all days. One brow rose inquisitively, looking back up from the file to Dr. Gaul. She responded only with a widened smile, her eyes creasing at the pull of her cheeks. Rotten woman, wanting to keep him guessing. Forget his mention of Gaul being a confidant. Livia and her might as well share a coin together. 

“Want to share breakfast with me?” 

It was the best thing, for now. Extending a hand out to her, the folded wax paper that contained sausages and omelettes. They still had warmth radiating from it. Not as hot as it was in his estate, but still adequately warm enough to eat. A twinkle went through Dr. Gaul’s eyes that made Coriolanus internally gag. She couldn’t actually be delighted by his request? For goodness sake, does everything he does endear her? Others would think that as he rose in power, the more serious people would take him. On Gaul, it had an opposite effect. It made her want to coo at him more. The sound of leather shifting was quietly heard, as she brought her fingers close to his outstretched hand, before halting. 

“Do you have napkins?” She asked. 

“I have spare handkerchiefs.” 

Better than nothing, unless she wanted to wash her greased hands in front of him after. 

Reaching into his pockets, Coriolanus took them out. Alternatives, he kept. He always carried a main one, something Tigris made for him as a gift to celebrate his return after losing his father’s back in the Academy. It was made of simple, off-white linen, with carefully stitched embroidery of foliage and bugloss flowers, and his initials tucked in the inside. His favorite, that he kept ironed, pressed and without a stain. He’s never let anyone use it since. As a result, he’s had to buy miscellaneous extras, for occasions like these. When he had to give hand-outs to a woman who believed herself to be a replacement for the mother that was most definitely rolling in her grave right now. He placed in Gaul’s hand a mauve colored handkerchief, and himself an aegean blue, both made of light muslin. No embroidery, and no personal touches. Simple, and cut perfectly. 

Dr. Gaul gave him a delighted ( gross ) thank you, taking the handkerchief to pick up one sausage and omelette. Carefully, she took a bite, not wanting to ruin the dark, red lipstick she had on. He followed in her example, taking a bite of his own. The salted taste of the omelette touched his taste buds immediately, mixing in the delightful savory-sweet bite of the breakfast sausage, the red bell-peppers and green onions used balanced well. He almost regrets giving the other to Dr. Gaul now. He didn’t realize how hungry he was before. A silence had fallen between them, with the occasional sound of their chewing sneaking its way through. Coriolanus stretched his legs out a bit, from his seated position, staring at the stasis tanks that surrounded them. 

He wasn’t really sure what he was hoping for, staring at revolting oddities encased in amber resin. Maybe that they’d blink? Surely, that’d be leagues better than this. To stare at Dr. Gaul while they both ate seemed like a daunting feat. She’d most definitely stare at him back unwavering, and that possibility horrified him more.

“So,” 

Dr. Gaul started her words, Coriolanus turned his head back to look at her. Dr. Gaul rubbed her gloved figures on the mauve cloth, the entire breakfast he had given her already gone. Does no one feed her? “Are you excited for the wedding? I can already hear the ceremony bells coming closer and closer with each month.” 

A misidentification from the chimes of her coming death. Coriolanus was understanding. It was very easy to mix the two sounds up, they do sound slightly similar.

Finishing a bite and swallowing, he held a hand over his mouth, “Only eight months away now,” He smiled politely. Dr. Gaul was always so prying when it came to the details of his life. It frustrated him that she’d never let sleeping dogs lie. 

“Livia is the most excited between us. This morning she showed me the design of her wedding dress. Roses and pearls all around,” His finger made a circular gesture in the air, emphasizing the last part. Coriolanus noticed how Dr. Gaul’s eyes slightly narrowed as he spoke, her grin still ever present. He wasn’t quite sure if his words were selling it. Then again, Dr. Gaul always managed somehow to see through him. Gaul rested her elbow against the table, propping her hand up to lean her head on it. Legs shifted under her long amaranth dress, the fabric shifting as she crossed them. He took another bite of his food to stave off this constricting feeling building in his chest.

“My… That cousin of yours works rather quickly. She must be elated for your union,” Sure, let’s go with that. He continued chewing. “Have you gotten your suit designed yet?” 

In one gulp, he swallowed the food down. 

Coriolanus looked back up at her, a shared look between the two. They both knew the answer to this. He didn’t know why she was asking. If she needed to remember it, might as well just give him a notepad and pen so he could write it down for her. He’d gladly fold the paper too, to put it in her pockets. Lips pulled into a polite smile, a pause before speaking:

“No. I haven’t had the time to seek out a designer just yet.” 

There was plenty of time, he just didn’t want to do it. Seeking out a seamstress would only just solidify this grim situation into reality. To put in any effort into this grotesque ceremony would do that. 

Gaul tutted at him. 

“That’s no good, Coryo. You can’t just leave that for the last minute.” 

She still sounded amused, despite her words speaking of disapproval. A woman like her should have no effect on him, but she did. It had an effect on Coriolanus. Livia and Tigris had taken so much of his energy this morning that it left him vulnerable in front of the lion’s mouth. He wanted to retreat into himself, his ears slightly burned in humiliation. Was he not an adult? The ripe age of twenty one and here he was, feeling like a child being scolded for not completing their chores. Her words made him feel small. But, it also made him want to spill so easily in her hands, tell her about the utter exhaustion he felt from early this morning. It sickened him, the ways Gaul made him feel. Coriolanus fought back against the frustrated flush that threatened to spill over to his cheeks, keeping his gaze steady with Dr. Gaul's eyes that only sparkled with delight and play. 

That’s right, play, he reminded himself. 

She’s only playing, that’s all she does. That’s all she wants. He wanted to save face, but a part of him feared that Dr. Gaul would scold him further if he did. The smile never left his face, but his eyes decently narrowed in warning. It was the most he could do to stand his ground. Dr. Gaul’s smile widened, incisors hidden under her lips, brimming. 

“Quite the set of daggers you have there,” The tight sound of pressure applied to latex was heard, thick and suffocating. Gaul raising one hand to bring close to his face, and he could only stare at its unnerving red color. Off-white blue lights from the lab reflected on its shiny material. Her pointer finger touched the center of his eyes, the region of bare flesh and nasal bone underneath. “Those aren’t for me, are they?” Her voice spoke more softly, just a hushed whisper. Coriolanus dared to raise his gaze off her finger, and to Dr. Gaul’s eyes. At usual, they were wide, showing the full, yet limiting, range of her heart to others. Yet, here there were, eyelids half raised. The muscles in her smile barely pulled at the zygomaticus. There was an unreadable look to her, but Coriolanus knew it wasn’t anger. He couldn’t fathom what it was. It made his chest feel tight, the action to take steady breaths proved itself a challenging feat that it was painful. 

He wanted to bite her finger off. 

“... No.” 

It felt like the words were fighting themselves to get out. He had to stop himself from saying it between gritted teeth. 

“Never towards you.” 

Coriolanus wanted to throw up with how softly he breathed these words out to Dr. Gaul. The saliva in his mouth tasted acidic. 

Why was he reassuring her feelings? He’s the one who’s getting married to the physical embodiment of a leech, and he had to placate the fickle feelings of a woman with ‘baby fever’. 

“The planning of the wedding is… just a bit of a sensitive subject, right now. For both Livia and I, considering how much is being put into it.” Saying those words aloud did nothing to alleviate the feeling. It only just made them that much heavier. The hand that held his handkerchief of food folded the fabric within itself, clenching carefully before folding it. Coriolanus still made sure to keep his head in place as he did so, his gaze steady on the other. Uncertain of whether it was okay or not to pull away from her touch. The steady warmth of Dr. Gaul’s finger had become unbearable. He wouldn’t be surprised if it left a burnt imprint on his skin when she eventually lifted it up. A silence had consumed them, with Gaul’s head slightly tilted up, as if to carefully look down at him. As if he was just another specimen whose temperament she was testing the boundaries of. Would she hope that he bared his teeth, too? 

After careful examination, she let out a small hum. 

“Good. I don’t need a rebellious assistant. One was more than enough,” 

Excuse you? 

Opening his mouth, ready to question more, Gaul’s finger slid down the bridge of nose, over to his lips. The motion silenced him, the weight pressed against the two pink muscles. She’d give him no room to speak on it and he had to obey that. Lifting her finger off, immediately, it sent signals to his entire body to ease itself back. Muscles were still taut and ready, rigid to keep his image, but the pressure before was no longer weighing it down. Rather, it transferred itself into his cerebrum. The words just spoken casted over his head in anxious anticipation. 

What did she mean before?

 It never once occurred to Coriolanus that Dr. Gaul had more assistants before him. With how much praise she spoke about him to others, calling him her ‘victor’; his high off the approval blinded him from ever looking too deeply into Gaul’s own history. She knew so much about him, but he hardly knew anything intimate about her. Was this assistant from a long past? Someone that spurned her, and flipped the switch in her mind. Or just a low-level employee that couldn’t rise to her expectations. Coriolanus knew Dr. Gaul wasn’t done just yet, seeing how her hand had moved to the file so carefully placed on her side of the table. Dragging the folder closer to her, the sound of the manila folder being dragged against the rich, wooden table. Curiosity beckoned at him, however, he only placed the muslin cloth on his own side. Placing it down on the table, he reached out to pick up his coffee instead to drink. This was just another game for her. Fitting for her title as Head Gamemaker. If he was to take her seat when she retired, he’d need to learn to play just as well. And that started by giving Dr. Gaul the bare minimum of what she wanted. 

“How do you feel about the subject of pets?” She opened Subject A01’s folder, her fingers flicking through pages held together by a single paperclip. 

“In general, or something specific you have in mind?”

She should save her spiel of human versus animal to the lecture hall, not the Citadel labs. If Gaul could step away from the foreplay and get onto her main point, that’d be fantastic. They both had limited time. 

“Just curious, considering you have such an aptitude for taking care of them.” Fingers stopped moving through the pages. Off-colored eyes rose up from the file, properly, to gaze at him. 

Of course, she knew. 

Thankfully, his body didn’t flinch. Rather, he remained seated in his leather stool. Arms crossed over each other, one hand holding his coffee, his legs slightly spread out, holding her stare passively. Yet, under his skin, it was like a match striking against a fuse. Something lit his veins on fire. Coriolanus could feel the muscle under his flesh being so warm. Was it fear? Adrenaline? He hoped it didn’t show through. Pulling at the tendons of his jaw, his lips pulled back to show his own set of canines. Coriolanus smiled at Dr. Gaul. 

“What let you on?” 

It wasn’t an outright admittance to guilt. He’d rather not say anything specific in case Gaul was accusing him of something else. 

“When the dog hopes it’s someone else walking in.” 

“Is that so?” His laugh sounded so delighted, it almost surprised him. It felt nearly genuine. Was it genuine?

How strange. Hearing that Project Prometheus was now so eager for his presence, that it started to act less excited around its ‘caretaker’... The confirmation that it was him that it liked being around most…  A warm bloom of pride surged through his chest. He had done that. He was affecting them. How long would it be now until Project Prometheus started referring to him with a familial label? It already was talking about him with others who cared to listen. Right now, he should feel terrified. His boss caught him interacting with a rebel prisoner outside of his assigned tasks, he was surely going to be chewed out. Yet, all Coriolanus felt was a sick glee that tempted him to bounce the heels of his shoes, knowing what’d he done. What he accomplished in such little time. It almost made him forget everything else before. Almost. Maybe he was right to place his bets on having the subject be his new stress-ball. After work, he’d make sure of his visit to Project Prometheus. 

Dr. Gaul joined in on his laughter. 

“You’re quite the twisted man, ‘Dr. Snow’,” She waggled that wretched finger in his direction. It made his skin crawl to hear her refer in the same manner as the subject. “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing. By all means, I encourage you to explore further,”

Ears picked up on a familiar set of letters; Dr. Gaul called the subject by its name. He raised his eyebrows at it, but made no verbal cue to question it. Project Prometheus was affectionate to a degree with Dr. Gaul; did Dr. Gaul reciprocate similar sentiments?

“It’s cerebrum, as you expertly noted…,” Call it by a name, but still refer to it as if it was only a thing. “Its hippocampus suffers a bit due to the stress regulation from the pFC,” The prefrontal cortex. “But, as a result, leaves the Project akin to a batch of fresh clay. Easily influenced, and susceptible to any new stimuli.” Dr. Gaul closes the file between her hands. Outstretching her arm, she extended the report over to Coriolanus’s end of the table, she was inviting him to take it into his own hands. And who was he to deny her request. Placing his coffee back on the table, he took the manila folder into his hands, and proceeded to open it on his end. His hands flicked through the pages, seeing the most recent update. The pain scale, the number five on it circled on it. His signature now tucked away and marked within the prisoner’s file. Coriolanus traced his clean nails on black ink. He was now part of this project. He made his first mark.

That familiar feeling of pride escalated again. 

“I’ll still be an overseer, but… I’m curious as to what your influence will do to it. You must make any observations, notes, all of it.”

Well, that feels a bit voyeuristic. Has she always been so eager to lend away her mutts?

Dr. Gaul grabbed his chin with a light touch. Forcing his focus away from the slightly stained papers and back to her, where her gloved thumb gently stroked his jaw. The trail of sensations that her own hand left behind made his skin prickle under his layers of clothes. Her touch was sickening as it was caring, leaving Coriolanus unable to decide if he should lean in, or pull away from her touch. So, he remained pliant. Letting her take the lead. 

“I made you into my victor. I want to see what you make Project Prometheus into.” 

He desperately wanted to see it too, Dr. Gaul. 

Reality was, there was no end product in his mind. All he knew was simple, base desires. To use the subject to stroke his own personal ego. Coriolanus didn’t know what would happen at the end. Did he honestly even care? If it ended up better, or worse, it didn’t matter. The subject would still be in Lab C09, sitting idly all alone on the exam table until someone took it out of its misery. Maybe that was it. Dr. Gaul wanted him to put all his effort into shaping Project Prometheus into something worthwhile; then, put it down like a dog after he was done. The thought of it made something deep within the confines of his ribs itch. He wanted to scratch at it. 

What a merciless, cruel thing to do. 

But, something exactly right in Gaul’s alley. Shame, what a waste of resources. The Citadel had the money to burn, Coriolanus guessed. It was an inconvenience on his end, though. He’d have to go and find a new stress-toy after this project was done. Hopefully, this wouldn’t become a pattern in the future.

“When I bring the results to you, what happens? Does the project end?” 

The steady thrum of machinery flowing through the Citadel’s walls was deafening. Straining his ears just enough, he could make out the brief sounds of employee shoes walking past the open lab doors. The leather soles squeaking and tapping against sleek flooring. Painted, red lips smiled, but this was different. So empty and void of any perverse glee, it almost surprised Coriolanus. 

“The project doesn’t end until there’s nothing left to reap.”

Until she got bored. That’s all his ringing ears could make of. 

If he were to control its lifespan; something would have to be done to keep Gaul’s intrigue up. Proposals for new ideas, possibilities, he’d have to draft them up. Coriolanus felt like he was back in the Academy all over again, writing essays and prompts for Dr. Gaul to read. Later, he’d need to remind himself to call an Avox. Give them the errand to go buy him a ‘do not bother’ sign to hang in his home office. He was going to need it for all the brainstorming he was going to do whenever Livia dropped by. 

“That’s why, I think I’ll have you conduct another exam. Don’t worry about your other tasks, I’ll have someone else take care of it.” 

Dr. Gaul was too kind. Saving him the trouble of making time out of his day to visit Lab C09.

“You remember last time, I had you do a test on the subject’s external pain receptors, right?” He doesn’t think he could ever forget such an experience. “Today, I want you to do an exam on its internal pain receptors.” 

Coriolanus blinked. 

Internal? 

Did she mean conducting an exam on its insides?

Coriolanus prayed it was something more specific. Internal was just too broad of a subject. There was so much going on in the inside of a living being, it’d be almost dizzying to focus on every single nerve ending that each part had. The digestive system, the endocrine system, pons, medulla, the list can go on. A touch of fear sprouted out the back of his head; the real possibility that Gaul may just ask him to perform an exam on the entire internal structure of the subject. The entailing of all that blood and mess. He pitied the custodians that’d have to clean up after him. He must’ve surely pulled a face, a grimace perhaps, as Dr. Gaul’s eyes lit up in amusement. Letting go of his chin, she smacked against his cheek lightly in her mocking laugh. Coriolanus only half-enthusiastically joined in, still hesitant on the whole prospect. And a bit offended at the casual slap.

“Have you ever done an exam like this before, Coryo?”

“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure, no.” 

The University offered cadavers from the Districts to examine and explore in open lab hours, sure. But, there was a difference between a corpse and a living thing. A cadaver didn’t squirm when he poked and prodded at it with a scalpel and toothed forceps. Well. Project Prometheus was a five now in its external sensitivity scale, so maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. Coriolanus thought back to the cake he brought in for Project Prometheus. Would the subject even be able to eat anything before, or after the operation? He didn’t want to risk aspiration during the operation and they’d likely pass out after he was done. Coriolanus wanted to suck his teeth. He brought the cheesecake for no reason at all then! God, he needed another sip of his coffee. 

“You’ll be a natural. It’ll be just as similar as the exam before, just…” Bright eyes rolled to the side, her tongue paused. She was tasting the word on it. “Messier.” Finishing it off with a rich chuckle, wiggling her nasty fingers against the air to put a bit of ‘pizzazz’ to it.. 

Coriolanus frowned a bit deeper.. 

“Usually, this is something I handle, but, considering recent developments between you and the prisoner; why not let you take the reins?” 

He supposed. 

Better him than Dr. Gaul, right?

The sight would be like a nightmare if Project Prometheus gazed up, flesh open, and the first thing they saw was the horrific grin of Gaul. Coriolanus could understand in that sense, why he should be the one performing the operation. It dubbed him with the ‘gentle hands’; unlike Gaul. Citadel cameras only knew how cruel Dr. Gaul can be when handling the prisoner’s insides. She probably gripped exposed tissue and sinew with her bare gloves. He’d only use the medical instruments that were best appropriate, when exploring around. Yes, it was definitely better that he was the one doing this. 

“I understand.” Sighing in ‘defeat’. “I’ll do my best to make you proud.” 

Gaul’s smile stretched wider when he said that. It pulled at the muscles of her cheeks, making her eyes squint and crinkle. 

“You always do, Coryo. If you need any guidance, instructions are written inside the report.” 

Covered knees knocked against his own in a brief, playful manner, his legs retracting back quickly from its stretched position. Dr. Gaul turned her seat back around to face her desk. Already, grabbing at another case file to look at; she took the discarded, uncapped pen that laid on the side. She shooed him away with her hand.

“Off you go. You can leave your things here, if you’d like.” 

Not even going to walk him to the elevator? And he thought Gaul and him had something special. 

Obediently, Coriolanus raised up from the stool, the leather cushion whining from it. Closing the manila folder, he tucked it under his arm and placed his coffee on the table. Spreading out his belongings around his side of the desk, he wanted to get a clear grasp of what he had. What was going to be needed, while he would be toiling away in Lab C09 for who knows how long. There was his Citadel Work ID, his keys, his coffee ( he didn’t trust leaving his drink unattended with Dr. Gaul ), the lab key, and… His hand hovered over the carrier, the one made of white cardboard that held the cheesecake. Coriolanus was still unsure if today was even possible, responsible, to give Project Prometheus this. Knowing what was to be done, there was no promise that he’d come back with an empty carrier. A slight twinge ached deep in his chest, the feeling of it lightly suffocating. An irritating sensation. He conditioned Project Prometheus to expect sweets from him; how sad would it be if he showed up empty-handed?

Coriolanus thought about it. 

Had he… ever seen Project Prometheus disappointed? It talked about feeling it, when Gaul would be silent, or ignore them. But, he’s never seen it. That smothering sensation from before began to ebb away. It made his imagination go wild, trying to imagine the subject’s sad face. Would it twist ugly? Would it pout, biting its chapped bottom lip, try to hold back a tear? Or become more withdrawn, silent and moody? Coriolanus wanted to know. Fingers curled around the handles of the carrier, pulling it up from the table. From the corner of his eye, Coriolanus noticed Dr. Gaul take in his action curiously. The sound of pen etching on paper stopped. With only a smile, he waved a free hand goodbye to her:

“I’ll be back, Dr. Gaul.”

And off he went, taking himself to the darkened corners of the lab where the elevator was tucked and hidden away. Greeted by the recognizable sight of sterile, stainless metal, he pressed his finger down on the button for the lower levels. The harsh, red light brimming brightly under his touch. With a ding to cut through the air, the elevator doors open almost immediately for Coriolanus. Bright, white lights flooding out, but it could only light up the dark corners of Lab H05 so much. It barely reached out to even three feet outside the door. Taking his step in, he pulled the familiar key Dr. Gaul had given him just a month prior. The key to Lab C09. After the first day, Coriolanus took it upon himself to clean it as best he could. It was his key now, so he tried scraping off as much rust and dried blood as he could. The key was still a rancid, dark color, but at the very least, it no longer felt so textured. With the key still warm in his palm, he inserted it into the elevator’s panel, twisting until the latch popped upon. He pressed for C09’s floor. 

In the meantime, Coriolanus opened Subject A01’s folder. Leaning against the wall of the elevator, one foot crossed over the other, he shifted his belongings into comfortable holdings in his arms. Flipping through the pages, he tried looking to see if Dr. Gaul left a sticky note giving him instructions. She had done it for him last time, so it wasn’t outlandish for him to expect another. But, no. Nothing of the sort. A heavy breath deeply sighed from his nose. How was he supposed to be a ‘natural’ when he had no guide to what he was doing? Fingers flicked through the pages quickly, looking for anything to give him a clue on what he was supposed to do. Maybe he needed to look back at previous updates. Heading back to the early pages, Coriolanus’s eyes flitted around until he found it. There. Tucked behind a faded, pale blue divider; labeled under: 

PROJECT PROMETHEUS’S EXPLORATORY LAPAROTOMY

OVERSEER & SURGEON: DR. VOLUMNIA GAUL

The date was recorded back from two years ago. Meaning that the subject’s NTRK1 gene was still under foreign modifications. Coriolanus, for a second, felt a bit hesitant. But, only for just a second. He flipped back the divider, and what did he know? His guess was right. There was Gaul’s written report on the side, what he wanted to read in the first place, but the photos… Numerous that were held onto the report in various placings, held on by rusted paperclips. He could recognize the subject by mere beauty marks, the same ones he traced with ink just a month beforehand. The photos were visceral. Subject A01’s bicipital aponeurosis, extensor retinaculum, patella, lateral malleolus, and sternohyoid were tied down to the operating table by tight, black leather straps and buckles. There were bright splotches of purple and red, areas where the bounded limbs had started to bruise, or bleed. Or both. Coriolanus wasn’t sure if this was caused by struggle before the operation began, or during. He was inclined to believe during. As in each photo that displayed its most intimate internal makings, where the rectus sheath had been peeled back and spread out, the subject’s eyes were still open. It did not look at the camera. How could it? Dark irises gazed listlessly off to the side, reddened orbital adipose to suggest dried tears but, he could still make out a faint sheen to suggest it hadn’t finished drying just yet. So much of the subject’s blood was shown in each photo, splatters that no doubt made it to the operation floor. Most likely from both Dr. Gaul’s indifference, and for the subject putting too much of a fight. 

Thankfully, he wouldn’t be dealing with that today. 

The subject’s cerebrum had been altered far too much to be in the same state it was in the beginning. Or, at least he hoped it was. Coriolanus let out another heavy sigh, his eyes leaving away from the photos to read the report Dr. Gaul had written. 

“06/30/XX

Patient Name: ⏹⏹⏹⏹ ‘SUBJECT A01: PROJECT PROMETHEUS’ 

Patient ID: ⏹⏹⏹⏹⏹⏹⏹⏹

Objective: Assessment of Internal Pain Receptors

First Exploratory Laparotomy conducted. 

Subject had to be forcibly escorted out of their room by Peacekeepers  ⏹⏹⏹⏹ and ⏹⏹⏹, to the Examination room. Attempted to assault Peacekeeper ⏹⏹⏹⏹, subject was forced down onto the Operation table to be restrained. Administered drug ⏹⏹⏹ and ⏹⏹⏹⏹ to avoid need for an endotracheal tube & general anesthesia during surgery. 

To be able to accurately record the fluctuation in Subject A01’s internal nerve system, the subject must remain conscious throughout the entire procedure. While examining each organ, a timer is a set for every ten minutes to gauge how the subject is feeling, if the scale is changing, or if it is still conscious. Exam ends when the subject is no longer responsive. 

Subject was only able to withstand thirty minutes of the operation before passing out entirely. Was difficult in communications, did not respond properly when asked. Had to lean in multiple times to listen to the subject, and could barely hear it between fits of crying. Currently listed at a 10 for pain tolerance–”

Coriolanus stared at the block of text. 

Having the exam run until the subject passed out felt a bit overkill. Just how long would he be staying in Lab C09? The first operation was thirty minutes, with the average pain scale of 10. Project Prometheus was now a 5 in the pain scale. They handled the external nerve exam completely conscious, but that was just needles poking and prodding their skin. How long could they last now, with their organs on full display and his surgeon tools prodding around? But… Coriolanus reminded himself; this project is their punishment for rebelling. So, he could understand why the procedure was conducted in such a manner. He shifted the weight of his posture, crossing one leg over the other. The warmth from before, from under the stifling layers of his winter wear, still had yet to completely fade away. It made him just the slightest bit uncomfortable still, knowing there were faint traces of heat still radiating from him. Thankfully, it wasn’t enough to sweat through his button up. 

The familiar ding cut through the silence. Instinctively, Coriolanus closed the manila folder as if on command, tucking it under his arm. Lab C09’s natural rusted, nauseous smell welcomed him in. Stepping past the doors of the elevator and into the floor, he needed no guidance to take him where he needed to be. He was well intimate enough with the layout of the structure. Well, the more ‘medically functional’ areas. Project Prometheus’s room was still something he had yet to visit, but that was something to see for another day. The messy bloodstain on the floor was still there, not yet cleaned up. Now that he was ‘in charge’ of Project Prometheus, he supposed he could make the order to clean this up. Yet, something about it felt so familiar to him. It was one of the first things he saw when he first entered Lab C09. Maybe it was Project Prometheus’s first waking moment in Lab C09, too. When they had attempted to escape out of the Peacekeepers’ grasp and make a dash for the elevator. Reaching the corridor hall doors, he greeted the current guards on duty, a brief hello and a curt nod before entering the new hall. 

Back where he was on that day, back at the start. 

Coriolanus moved his feet, standing where he assumed he first was, when he first entered here. The large glass window that encompassed one side of the hall, where he stood and got his first glimpse of the subject. It wasn’t quite right, he wasn’t so close to the other side of the wall; but, neither was the other side of the glass. To any other eye, the change wasn’t too noticeable. Small difference of details. But, Coriolanus noticed the change immediately. His blue eyes dragged up towards the empty space of wall hooks that once carried the room’s surgical tools. They used to hang up so high, just out of reach so the subject didn’t try to reach for it themselves on its own time. But, there they were. Next to the center of the room, the surgical tools had been placed neatly on a large, rolling surgical tray that was beside them. 

Subject A01, Project Prometheus. 

Coriolanus’s breath felt a bit heavy, difficult to take in. All he could focus on now was the sight of them, taking in their form. It still hadn’t noticed him, a pleasing change of pace from before. They were seated, as it was expected to do, on what used to be the examination table. The leather cushions that covered it had been removed, revealing the sleek, stainless steel operation table that was hidden underneath the comforting material. Coriolanus took small, quiet steps further, careful as to not alert it. Project Prometheus had a penchant for being the observant type. The subject was sitting mostly upright, but there was a slight slouch to its shoulders. Arms brought forward, its hands pushed between the small space of its thighs. Bare legs dangled off the edge of the table, stitches decorating the expanse of skin. It still had some remnants of bandages wrapped around, particularly around the left brachialis area and its right lateral malleolus, tight and clean. The subject’s dark irises stayed down on the gritty, tiled floor; not bothering to look around. 

Project Prometheus still hadn’t acknowledged him yet. 

He didn’t know if it was on purpose, or purely accidental on its part; but he understood one thing. And it was the familiar lick of irritation that touched him. What was so different here? All he needed to do was breathe wrong and the subject honed in on him like a hawk. Has something happened? Was Dr. Gaul wrong in her assumption of the subject favoring him? Did he need to condition Project Prometheus longer than he anticipated? The fun of being a passive observer had worn off, the longer he gazed at them. He needed Project Prometheus to look at him, to focus on him. Fingers tapped on the glass lightly, a significant difference, a restraint, from the buildup dwelling inside him. A distinct sound was made, enough for the subject to snap its head up. 

For Project Prometheus to look at him. 

It stared at him with such wide eyes, their slightly reddened, chapped lips slightly agape in a small ‘o’ shape. There was a small kick and sway to their dangling feet, now. For a brief second, he saw the subject’s eyes dart quickly to the box carrier in his hands before focusing back up on him. The muscles of his cheeks started to pull back into a grin. 

Exactly what he wanted. 

Satisfaction easily oozed into him, embarrassingly so. But, he got what he was looking for. Project Prometheus’s eyes were now solely on him, not off in some dissociative mindscape. 

Coriolanus gave them a wave through the glass, mouthing to them: ‘I’ll be in soon’ before stepping away and further down into the hall corridor, where the examination room door was. Taking the surgical uniform that hung beside the Peacekeeper keeping guard, Coriolanus placed his belongings down to the side to put the attire on. Slipping the surgical gown, cap, goggles, and tightening the gloves onto him, his blood was running high. Coriolanus couldn’t fathom why. Maybe it was the nerves. In just a few moments, he’s going to head in there, break its heart about giving them no dessert, tell them he’s here for an exam, then perform a gruesome operation on them to add the cherry on top. All of it was nerve-wracking. They seemed to be quite obedient, but who's to say this wouldn’t be their final straw? And if they accepted it, taking his surgical exploration with no objection? The bones in his hands only felt like formality, with how much fight he was doing to just keep them steady.

There was so much blood he could feel running through his veins.

“I’ll be conducting an operation today, keep your ears alert for anything unusual.”

The metal door moved open from its tight seal, Coriolanus stepping through before it closed behind heavily with a hefty thud. Muted sounds of bare feet touching the floor; the patter careful to make a noise above a pin drop, slowing down to just a whisper. And then, falling entirely into silence. 

“Good morning, Dr. Snow.” 

There it was. 

Their presence, it was just a few ways behind him. It was faint, and hard to realize at times, but he was getting accustomed to it. Unlike others, where there was a palpable weight to the space they took up in the air, Project Prometheus’s presence was noticed through feelings in the gut. Intuition, maybe. But, Coriolanus could pick out on how whenever the subject was near, his blood would run so cold, yet the adrenaline in his veins made his heartbeat beat faster than ever. It felt almost primal, savagery at its finest. Reduced to relying on his own bodily instincts and survival skills to learn more about a mutt kept behind bars. 

“Subject A01,” He called out pleasantly. His restraint was being kept taut on a leash.

Coriolanus smiled behind his surgical mask, turning his body around to finally look at the subject and not the dreary door. There, they stood before him, hands awkwardly stood at their sides, clad in the same thin patient gown. They must’ve been cold sitting almost bare on the operating table. The subject gazed at his gloved hands immediately, after only just briefly looking at his own eyes. There was only the project report and his coffee in his hands. He decided it was best to leave the carrier outside. For a second, he watched how Project Prometheus's stare was unchanged, nothing to indicate on their expression that something had gone wrong in their mind. But, he knew. Coriolanus could feel the slight shift in the air, the dejection Project Prometheus was feeling at the lack of a sweet reward. If their eyes would not say anything, it was their body. The slight shift of weight, and scarred fingers twiddling at the ends of their gown. 

His grin widened under his surgical mask. 

“Good morning, is everything alright?” He leaned down his head a bit, showing faux worry. 

Project Prometheus bit the bottom of their lip briefly, a flush of rosy hues along the cracked surface from the pressure. Coriolanus's eyes traced the spark of color on the overall gray appearance of the subject, almost engrossing him entirely. It is an absolute wonder what a splash of color could do to enhance even the most unsightly. 

“... No, everything is alright.” 

Was he dreaming, or was there the subtle carry of a pout in their tone? Ohhh, he was living such a high! “And you can call me by my name, Dr. Snow.” They both know that wasn’t going to happen. But, he supposed there were remnants of a naive idealist in its unconscious mind. It forgot all the important details, and kept the worst info. 

Taking a step forward, Project Prometheus took no step backward from him. Rather, it craned its neck up, where he stood towering over them. Fingers stopped in its fidgeting, trying to meet his stare through the difference in height. His body made a shadow over its small frame, blocking out the nauseous, overhead lights. Coriolanus stretched a hand over, touching the region of the subject’s infraspinatus with the flat of his gloved palm. Project Prometheus did not tense under his touch. He leaned down. 

“Could you wait for me at the operation table?” Words came out just slightly above a whisper, never once breaking eye contact with the subject. He spoke it sweetly, an illusion of a suggestion, disguising a command. 

Project Prometheus was silent. 

An impatient tick poked at him. Was it even listening to him, or was it trying to disassociate? 

“So, it is an operation today.” 

No, they removed the examination cushions for laundry day. 

“Yes, it is. Will that be a problem?” It better not. 

The subject fell into silence once more. Its hands shifted from its sides to the anterior, playing with the front of its dress. The ends of thin fabric was in between its fingers, the slight rise of it, had he bent down, there was no doubt he would see clear peeks of the subject’s lower half. With his brows furrowed, he could feel his throat run a bit dry. He had a drink, but it feels wrong right now to take a taste. As if anything else would ruin… whatever this was. Coriolanus shifted the weight of his posture. 

“... Have I done something to upset you, Dr. Snow?”

… What was Project Prometheus trying to play here?

Is… Is this some form of attempt at pacification? Play with the patient gown, try to flash him, and hope he bends over backwards? Regardless, the fear of losing Dr. Gaul��s respect over something so juvenile was far more humiliating than whatever… this was. It brought on a trickled feeling that ran inside his throat, something that made his ears burn. Maybe it was embarrassment he felt for the subject. Or for himself, for having to deal with this so early. Placing his hand over it, the fingers were still continuing to fidget. Gripping the appendages under his gloved grasp, quickly, he put a stop to the movement. 

“Enough.” Coriolanus gave an extra squeeze on its hand for emphasis. The subject stopped moving. Alright, that eases him up a bit. 

“There’s nothing you’ve done wrong,” He could argue for some, but he’ll save it for another day. “Today is only the internal nerve exam. Dr. Gaul asked me to conduct it in her place instead,” Unconsciously, he didn’t know why, but his thumb started to rub soothing circles on the back of Project Prometheus’s hand. Something that Tigris had done for him, when he needed comfort as kids. But, this didn’t hold the same warmth. The subject’s hand’s too cold for that, and his gloves offered nothing. 

“I promise to be kind with this.” Whispering, so that a soft voice would be the final kick for Project Prometheus to behave. 

“Okay… I trust you, Dr. Snow.” 

A terrible choice, really. 

Coriolanus almost snorted, but he stopped himself with a smile, communicating with how his eyes squinted slightly along the pull of muscle. He stopped his thumb, removing his hand off the subject’s before giving a light touch on their shoulder. A simple gesture for it to go back to the operation table, to which it followed. Attentively, his eyes followed the back of it. Never would he dare to take off his gaze until he finally heard the small squeaking sound of Project Prometheus lifting itself on the table, sitting itself fully on the stainless steel. Last time, his eyes left the subject, it gave him a heart attack moments after. The subject caught his stare, and rather than call him out for it, question him, it spoke:

“I’ll wait right here for you.” 

Did it know his apprehension? 

Coriolanus wasn’t sure whether to be pleased, or disturbed. On one hand, the subject was following orders. The other hand, there’s a very real chance his facade wasn’t as good as he thinks it is. No, it can’t be that. It shouldn’t be. He worried his bottom lip between incisors, shifting to head towards the shelves of drugs and medical equipment. Dr. Gaul managed to see through him earlier this morning, and he knows ( he knows! ) Livia caught the envy he felt when she showed him Tigris’s sketch. There wasn't anything wrong with him. There’s something in the air today, that’s wrong here. He just needed to fix that, gain back control. Just needed to take deep breaths, he has everything under his control right now. Putting the report and coffee down on the shelves, Coriolanus pulled the small, glass bottle of anticoagulant, clean syringes, sternum wires, and the modified anesthesia out in front of him. As all surgical instruments had been placed out beforehand already, all he needed now was the roll of polymer fibers for the sutures later. Traditionally, black has been the norm. It's on the subject right now. Gloved fingers brushed against the barrel of the roll, in thought. Then, put the roll back in place, shoving past to reach another corner to the shelf. Feeling the weight of it, he grabbed it. A roll of red polymer fibers. 

Dr. Gaul’s handiwork, her mark, were those black stitches. 

So shouldn’t his mark be something more striking? Would it not show as dazzling proof of his first operation?

“Thank you for being patient,” Bringing the materials over, Coriolanus placed them evenly spaced on the surgical tray before him. “Do you remember how this procedure goes?” He wanted to make sure this wasn’t placed in the shredder of its amnesia. If they didn’t remember the previous times, he’ll make sure it remembers this one. 

“I think so,” Its dark eyes followed his hands, watching him as he took the syringe between his fingers and the anticoagulant in another hand. Pressing the bevel down through the cap of the bottle, and then taking his thumb to pull the plunger up. The barrel of the syringe starts to fill up decently with a semi-transparent liquid, the color slightly askew with a slight yellow tint. Project Prometheus pointed at it. “That’s what Dr. Gaul uses to thin my blood,” He rinses and repeats the process with the modified anesthesia. The subject pointed at the next one. “And that’s to keep me conscious, right?” 

Coriolanus blinked blandly at them. 

“How observant of you, I’m sure Dr. Gaul would be impressed that you remembered.” Coriolanus coolly replies. He didn’t mean it as a compliment, but Project Prometheus’s legs dangled a bit more in rhythm at it. He didn’t want to ask further. Dr. Gaul most likely told them all that, but he never knew when it came to the subject. They always managed to surprise him, somehow. 

And he hated them for that. 

“Can you stand up for me, please.” Project Prometheus got off smoothly from the table, placing both feet down and craning the muscle of its semispinalis capitis up to look at him properly. The tips of his leather shoes stood mere centimeters away from its bare distals. Already, he had placed down the filled syringes to the side. He swallowed down some access that started to gather inside his mouth before speaking. “Turn around.” Obediently, it turned its body around, the back of its thin, patient gown in front of him. The sheer material, kept together by two ties of strands around the splenius capitis and thoracolumbar fascia region. It always looked so flimsy to him. His gloved hand reached to touch the knot that wrapped its waist-line, trailing along the flimsy string. Coriolanus started to untie it. 

“... Dr. Snow?”

“It’s just faster if I do this,” Speaking it, he can’t fathom why, but it felt like his words were trying to reassure him. That saying it aloud made it real. He doesn’t know why. It is real. If you want it done right, do it yourself; Coriolanus knows it better than anyone, and that’s what he’s doing. This is just him controlling the situation at hand. 

“I’ll help you, then.” 

No, it doesn’t need to do that, it can just – Its fingers reached up to start undoing the tie around its neck region. If he acted just as wild as he was feeling, he’d be tempted to bite away the stitched fingers for disobeying him ( seeing as how his own hands were too occupied to pull the subject’s hand away ). Instead, he settled with a slight scolding tone when he spoke while he still continued to untie, not bothering to look up from what his hands were doing. If he looked up, he'd be stuck anxiously watching it fumble around. “That’s not necessary, I got everything under control.” It’d be nice if it could, you know, follow that. One moment, they are pliant and willing to do what he says. The next, they are moving around without his permission, doing whatever it feels like. Whenever he senses like he’s getting closer to having Project Prometheus under his grasp, following the steps that he’s laid out, they instantly slip from his fingers. It makes him feel almost insane trying to put them back in his hand. 

“But, I like helping you.” 

The knot in his gloved grasp fell loose. 

“Really?” His voice came a bit more hoarse than he’d like, clearing his throat a bit. 

The fabric around the waist had loosened, revealing the bare skin of the subject’s lower half. Lifting his hands away, it seemed if he lingered his hands longer it felt like he was treading something dangerous. Unpredictable. Project Prometheus’s volatile behavior might just be contagious, he feared. Standing so close to them like this, whatever odd energy they carried, it was trying ( and failing ) to disrespectfully invade his. Shoes making a slight sound, Coriolanus took a few steps back to give Project Prometheus some room. Their fingers finally finished fiddling with the top knot. Just like a disappearing act, the gown fell to the floor, pooling around its feet. The subject stepped out from it, gently pushing the fabric to the side with their distals. Wow, so well-trained. 

“I do, you’re always so nice to me.” Not after he finishes this trauma-inducing of an operation, he thought. Eyes transfixed, Project Prometheus never left his sight, moving to sit back onto the Operation with a push up from their arms. “So, I want to help you in ways I can.” They leaned back, kicking their feet under the table, peering back at him from under their lashes. 

Was Project Prometheus’s eyelashes always so thick? After all this time in captivity? Their family must be agonizing over such a good batch of genes wasted. 

“Thank you,” The words came out softly. “For being so good with me.” Trying to steady the loud thrumming of his veins, Coriolanus reached over his hand to the surgical tray, taking the first syringe in his hands. The thick, dark liquid jostling, catching the reflections of the ugly, overhead lights. The needle gleamed. The directions in where his blood moved felt too transparent, too obvious. An uncomfortable sensation of how… aware he felt regarding his body. And a complete lack of control to make it stop. 

“Please, crane your head down for me.” 

He needed it to stop. 

Compliant, the subject kneeled their head down, brushing their hair to the side. Seamlessly, he pressed the needle in. Pressing the plunger down, watching until the entirety of the barrel emptied itself out. Project Prometheus remained still, as he continued on with the next syringe. Taking a cotton ball, he dabbed it with isopropyl alcohol. He gingerly rubbed the cotton over the injection sites, before placing gauze over it. A quiet thank you was whispered softly under Project Prometheus’s breath. 

He took a small breath in. 

Placing a gloved hand over the subject trapezius region, another on the deltoid. Just only the slightest of push, and the subject understood his gesture. Bringing their legs up to the table, they adjusted their position to lay down on the cold, steel table, holding onto his own hands for support. Their hair haloed around their head in uneven strokes, spread out. Despite the lights completely over their entire body, their eyes barely reflected any of it. Instead, they were peering at him, focused on him. Their hands still haven’t left his. Were they nervous? 

“Is everything alright?” He asked. 

“... Can you speak to me?” 

Coriolanus blinked. He was a bit taken aback. 

“Speak to you? Aren’t I doing that right now?”

The subject shaked their head minimally. “No, not that. I mean during the operation; can you speak to me?” Their fingers tightened at the fabric of his gloves, crinkling the material. “Dr. Gaul doesn’t get very talkative when she performs operations on me, so it makes the whole thing a bit hard to ignore sometimes.” That’s the point, it’s a torture sentence. “If that’s okay with you, Dr. Snow.” He wondered if the subject was comfortable making requests to Dr. Gaul just as much as it did with him.

Sharing a stare with the subject, they both held onto the silence. 

Coriolanus breathed out. 

“Fine, but it’ll strictly be in regards to the operation, only. Nothing else,” 

For a slight moment, he didn’t know if it was a trick of his eyes, or real, but Coriolanus could’ve sworn he saw a brief glimpse of light dancing in the subject’s dark eyes. A droopy, half attempt of a small smile on their lips. Chapped lips spread, showing minimal cracks between dried layers of skin and small winks of their pointed cuspids. He felt the air stop for a moment.

“Thank you,”

Before releasing their hands from him and laying down flat against the table. 

Coriolanus adjusted the gloves back to proper fitting, stretched the latex-leather evenly. Moving slightly away from the operation table, he went over to pull over the mobile floor standing lights closer. Hanging the operating lights at just the right angle over, he placed one hand over the subject’s eyes while his other went to flick on the lights. Quietly, Project Prometheus laid. A change of pace, but most definitely attributed to the modified anesthesia he administered now kicking in. With everything in its place, it was all ready to start. He prayed to whatever was out there, that cadaver dissections in class would be enough to carry him through the entire operation. And if not… 

He’ll take whatever large stacks of paperwork Dr. Gaul had waiting for him after he was done putting the subject in the morgue. 

If Dr. Gaul was kind enough to let Project Prometheus have a moment in the morgue. 

Taking the scalpel within his hand, the gleam of the sterile steel refracted against the various angles of light. He pressed one hand against Project Prometheus against their ribcage. 

“Take steady breaths,” He needed them for himself, too. Coriolanus breathed in sync with the rising and falling of the subject’s pectoralis major. “Perfect, now, on, 1, 2… “

And in his scalpel went. 

A smooth dip in, evenly slicing through the top of the subject’s angle of louis; all the way down to the lowest part of their rectus sheath. A dark crimson streak leaking, steadily trailing after the drag of his knife. Ways from him, a small, almost quiet intake of breath was heard beside him. He almost missed it. So, the sensations already begin. But, thankfully, for now, no bodily squirming. Good, his nerves were already on edge about needing to make a careful incision. He wasn’t really interested in stopping right now to get up and put restraints on the subject. It would be uncomfortable on both ends. And the sounds so far, haven’t been… displeasing, to say the least. Not as bad as Livia sounded early this morning, so small wins for him to take in. 

Taking a breath of his own, Coriolanus continued, pressing in the scalpel a bit deeper with the slightest pressure from his hand. Another intake of breath from Project Prometheus. The pitch almost stops him in his ministrations. It didn’t scream, nor did it let out a pained groan. The sound was airy. Blood ran wildly through his ears, the adrenaline picking itself up once more. Coriolanus felt his breath take on a small weight, a bit heavy in his mask as he eased back down his heart from the sudden sound. Again, fine. As long as it didn’t move. The scalpel sliced down past the rectus abdominis, past the subcutaneous tissue, until it touched the sternum. Hearing another quiet gasp of breath come from Project Prometheus, a small splatter of blood hit back up at him. It freckled around the ends of his surgical mask. The subject’s distals flexed a bit, to restrain itself from moving an inch. The blood reminded him of how sweltering the layers of medical wear felt on him right now, tight and restrictive. 

He can’t stop now. 

“How are you feeling?” 

He hadn’t reached the moment where he could start recording for the internal exam, but suppose it wouldn’t hurt to check in. The scalpel continued to move, so that the peel back of flesh would be more clean and effective. 

“... I… I’m fine…” 

Oh, less talkative?

“… Around a 6… right now. Like… feeling something… unusual, a… and new.” Descriptions, too? Oh, they were being so good for him. This gives more to fluff up in his report after. The subject took steady breath between words, but nothing that seemed to indicate excruciating pain just yet. Rather, it felt like they were trying to speak through small discomfort. Should he look up to see what expression was on its face right now? 

“You’re doing great at staying still.” 

He licked his lips briefly, wetting them in concentration. Placing the scalpel down behind him on the surgical tray, he reached over to grab at the surgical rakes. Taking it between his fingers, he carefully dipped the rake past the crevice of an incision he made. “Stay strong for me and just keep taking steady breaths for me, okay?” Project Prometheus took a sharp intake of breath. Coriolanus had it dig into the first layer of skin, puncturing and pulling the skin back. The subject’s distals curled. Hooking the rake onto a handle of the operating table, he made sure it was kept in place. He rinsed and repeated with the other side. Coriolanus let out a small puff of air from his lips, inexplicably enraptured with the sight now laid before him. With the thin barrier now taken away, Coriolanus could see more clearly, the layers of muscle that moved in tandem with the rhythm of the subject’s steady breath. Protected by the intricate makings of the subject’s thoracic cage. A morbid curiosity to touch the layers of tissue, feel the blood pump under his gloves, but he held himself back. He needed to explore other things, not this. Blue eyes fixated on the flow of blood from the subject. The stream moved in controlled fashion. A small pool of blood was dripping down the sides of the subject, but not at levels that were concerning, yet. The dark crimson color contrasted and glimmered against the nauseating overhead lights. It looked almost black in the loud, greenish-hue of the room. 

Once again, proven right. 

He is a far better option than Dr. Gaul. The controlled, clean view he had was such a stark contrast from the violent photos shown in the project’s folder. Coriolanus was tempted even, to break his concentration to pull for a camera and take photos himself. To show Dr. Gaul, and any other doctor after him, how an operation of this level should be held correctly. A small smile grew under his mask. Reaching for the pneumatic sternal saw, gloved hands reached down to touch the sternal periosteum. Dragging his hands down all the way to the bottom of it, feeling the ridges, a discomforted whimper fell out from Project Prometheus. He shushed them quickly. 

“It’s alright. I’m going to cut into your sternum now,” 

“I… I ha… have no reason to doubt you, Dr. S… Snow.”

Raising the sternal saw, the light catching against the stainless steel material, he brought it down and aimed it just right. Before pressing down on the button and watching the saw blade activate and come to life. The whirring sound of the saw cutting through bone, in the same up and down motion he had done with his hands, he led the saw down. The sound of bone against steel drowned out any sort of sharp gasps that had been pulled out from Project Prometheus. But, he could see it. The ways their fingers flexed out and then curled inwards, trying to grip at anything stabilizing. One hand closed into a fist, and another was clawing ( and failing ) to grip onto the surface of the operation table. Only succeeding in splashing their nailbeds with their own pool of blood, scraping the liquid beside them. Yet, everywhere else was only miniscule fidgeting. 

Coriolanus’s smile grew. 

“You’re doing so good.” Praise just above a whisper, loud enough for the subject to hear. “You’re doing so, so good right now.”

Project Prometheus gave a soft exhale, before nodding as best it could

“I..It’s a 7… Ma-Maybe a 6?” The subject whined. “D…Discomfort, l-like… cracking…. joints.” The words spoke between gasps of breath. 

It was still trying its best to relay notes for him, despite it all. Coriolanus let out a sharp laugh. Something profound in him twitched. His blood felt like it was pumping all through his body at scorching temperatures, everything becoming just so loud. God, was this what Dr. Gaul feels when she runs her gruesome operations? Coriolanus understands it. He thinks he’s finally starting to understand it! For only being his first time, the operation was turning out so smoothly! To add just the cherry on top, Project Prometheus was acting so obedient for him despite the gruesome actions he was performing on its body. So malleable, so eager to please him. 

His hand reached behind him, as the saw finally cut down and separated the sternum, replacing quickly the saw with a sternal retractor. 

“We finally made it through the tough part.” Correction, he did. He was the one doing all the work. “You’re fantastic.” He let out another laugh. 

Placing it between the broken sternum to expand and create space for him to see. To push aside the thoracic cage, and give him full, uncensored access to the expanse of Project Prometheus’s most intimate belongings. The insides of their very being. Coriolanus could see it all. The varying tones of viscera that beat and moved rhythmically to the sound of the subject’s breath. All the pulmonary veins and arteries, leading up to the main center. Bright, carmine flesh that took his breath as Coriolanus could only stare, ensnared by the muscle glistening. 

The literal heart of the project. 

The sound of it was horrifically deafening. 

As if Project Prometheus’s heart had entered into inside him, beating right into his very own tympanic membrane. Something visceral was infecting his body. Coriolanus was sure of it. The rush of the entire procedure was all getting to his head. Unconsciously, a gasp of breath left his mouth. Like as if the quick grasp at air would do some good to help him. That it would clear the haze that was starting to settle in the wrinkles of his mind. Futile, he knows, but what else could he do to alleviate it. Against his better judgment, even if Coriolanus knew he shouldn’t, his eyes moved quickly to the side to see how the subject was holding up. It was only going to be brief, just a second. But, he froze at what he saw. His breath hitching, the inside of his mouth drying up. 

The subject laid immobile against the operation table, but their head was tilted to the side. Their body seemed to try to unconsciously shift away from the overwhelming sensation, but the subject was forcing it to stay in position. And their face… Coriolanus never thought he’d see this so soon, but their face looked so different from their usual expression of apathy. A healthy flush of color was spread all over, their brows twisted and furrowed in concentration. Its cracked bottom lip worried against their incisors, but not yet hard enough to bleed. Their eyes were closed down tightly, it couldn’t see him staring at them. It couldn’t read his scrambled thoughts; understand, for a second, under the warped fluorescent lights of the examination room, Project Prometheus almost looked… 

Human. 

A prisoner, a walking mutation… was looking human to him.

Aesthetically pleasing to his eyes, even. 

He was turning insane. 

He is insane. 

Dr. Gaul didn’t pick her hand around the hat and chose him as her successor because he was an ‘upstanding’ and ‘righteous’ person. He didn’t get this far by playing by the rules. She hooked her nails into him, because right now, with his gloves shimmering, covered in the blood of the subject; he could feel her shadow standing over him. Her brilliant, white teeth peeking out from the dark, grimy corners of the room, cheering him on to keep going. And Coriolanus would do anything for her approval. The movement of his gloves felt sticky, as he shifted his hand over to pull out the stopwatch from the steel tray. His gaze never leaves the delirious sight of Project Prometheus’s face. Another hand of his, reaching across Project Prometheus’s body to hold onto the edge of the operation table. Pushing with just enough weight, Coriolanus brought his leg up and over the subject’s body. And then the other, not bothering at the sounds of blood splashing against his surgical gown. He didn’t care if it breached past the layers of medical wear and stained his clothes. 

“D… Doctor… S…Snow?” 

Project Prometheus carefully opened their eyes, thick lashes framing against the dull colors of their irises. Twinges of discomfort were behind them, but curiosity burned the brightest there. 

“... I… Is ever…ything, oka–”

A sharp gasp caught off the subject’s words. 

Between them both, his free hand had reached down past the lungs, pushing the muscle slightly aside. Gloved fingers touched and traced along the endless lines of arteries. Caressing the superior vena cava, the aorta, the auricle… all the way down to grip tenderly, yet promising, at the apex of Project Prometheus’s physical heart. The subject let out a choked sound under his attention. Doing their best to get intakes of air, the lungs of the subject were expanding and retracting besides his hand for him to feel. For him to see. With just the right amount of pressure, he could exert so much damage onto the project’s body. Give the subject respiratory issues for the rest of the project, disrupt the steady flow of enzymes. Crush their heart in just one sitting. Endless opportunities, and Coriolanus knows the subject knows that. There was understanding shared in the heavy silence between them. 

But, they were doing nothing to stop him. 

No attempts to remove his hands. No yelling, or crying to tell him to get off. Just simple, almost fawn-like eyes staring back at him in hopes for an answer. He couldn’t make out fear, and it baffled him. This whole operation has been nothing short of gruesome, and here he was standing over their body, sinking into their blood, their body, and they did nothing to stop him. This whole situation would’ve been downright disturbing, yet there was a tight knot in his body that he felt unwinding. The control of the entire operation is in his hands, but control of himself was the battle he was currently fighting. And it felt like he was losing the longer Project Prometheus blinked up at him, hints of small tears on their lashes. The longer he gazed back at them, all that was reflected in its dreary eyes was the sight of him. Just him.

“... Do you trust me?” He breathed out, finally. 

The subject made an attempt at a sound, the splash of color never leaving their face. 

“Y…Yes,” 

“More than Dr. Gaul?” He didn’t even know what he was saying at this point, his mouth was rambling before he could even process it. 

“...More… t…than anyone…” 

And there it was. 

The culmination of all that was building up. Those very words felt like it was undoing all the wounded up tension that had been piling since the moment he got up this morning. Coriolanus felt his muscles tremble. But, he couldn’t tell from what anymore. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to even name it, either. It’d just shatter the moment. What was there to even say to that? A thank you was so impersonal. And praise was far more than Project Prometheus deserved, at this point. They were showered enough in it already, what more could the subject want from him. To the eyes of the Citadel, the desire for the project was clear as day. But, in the perspective of a broken animal, what else could they aspire when freedom was conditioned out of them. 

Did it matter at this point?

No, it doesn’t, Coriolanus decided. Because as long as he was in the room with them, Project Prometheus' existence was to serve his own selfish interests. And it was doing just that. Coriolanus leaned himself down over the subject. Propping an elbow up besides their head, their laborious breaths closer to his surgical mask. The heated air tickled and brushed against his ears. He tapped his forehead down beside the stainless steel space beside them, letting out a heavy exhale. Standing this close, he could make out that the subject had a faint scent of simple soap. The cooling sensation of the table did nothing to alleviate the warm dizziness swirling in his head. 

Pressing down the button next to their left ear, the stopwatch started. Coriolanus spoke in their right. 

“We are now starting the timer for the internal nerve exam.”

[majorproblems77]

Fluff, Fluff, Fluff!

Chapter 18! We are so close now, I can't believe we made it this far! I hope you enjoy some chain fluff to heal your day.

:D

[hyuuukais]

me when i. me when i remember sunshine and strawberries is ending probably within the next 2 weeks.

[ghoulangerlee]

i was going to work on you share not the blood of our, our ours before bed but my compute restarted for updates and now the whole ass 100+ page doc has to load everything.

so i guess that's a sign for me to go to bed haha :)

[im-immortal]

sneak peek: untitled Americanized 28 Days Later bethyl fic

“HELLO?!”

And once again, Beth was met with nothing but dreadful silence.

She heaved a sigh and began trekking up the seventh set of stairs, her thighs aching and her legs heavy. Daryl made a frustrated sound and passed by her, murmuring under his breath so she couldn’t decipher his words as he took the lead towards the next landing. She followed numbly.

What if there wasn’t anything at all waiting for them at the top? What if he’d been right all along, and all they ended up finding was another empty apartment? Or a sight similar to her dad’s bedroom back at the farm? Had she really fought so hard just to waste their time chasing after something that was too good to be true?

Did it even matter, though? Was it truly wasting time when everything else they did every single day was nothing more than killing time? Was it any worse than sleeping in an abandoned Journeys night after night and trekking through the same empty streets day after day?

At least she’d know. At least she could say she’d fucking tried.

And then, halfway up the ninth set of stairs with Daryl half a staircase ahead of her, an ominous sound reached their ears. It echoed through the stairwell, reverberating loudly throughout the lobby below.

The screams of the infected. The messy and clustered shuffling of feet, immediately followed by the clang and clatter of multiple hands against metal—bodies upon bodies shoving and forcing their way through, clambering desperately over the mountain of shopping carts. Metal clashing against metal as the giant obstacle slowly disentangled and fell apart. Heavy, purposeful footsteps hitting the stairs. Climbing up and up. Straight towards Beth and Daryl.

They both recognized it at the same time, and Daryl whipped his head around to meet her gaze with the same wide-eyed look of shock that was surely mirrored on her own face. She spared no more than a second to glance over the railing of the stairs, down towards the way they’d come—she could already see the shadowed forms of several infected racing up the stairs, screaming and flailing their arms, outreached for something they could only smell and hear.

“Fuck!” Daryl cursed, picking up speed as he climbed the stairs ahead of her.

“Oh shit, oh shit,” Beth gasped out, forcing herself to climb the stairs after him even faster, desperate to catch up. Her legs were already burning and aching from the climb.

But she could hear the infected barely three floors below, trailing behind and rapidly catching up. Their feet pounded loudly on the stairs, their wails echoing throughout the entire building. The adrenaline kicked in and she sped up, but it was no use.

She was still an entire staircase behind Daryl, and he was only climbing quicker and quicker. Without her.

She glanced back over her shoulder as she reached the eleventh landing and, to her horror, saw the first of the infected leading the pack, rounding the corner at the landing just two floors below—eyes red, face covered in blood, legs pumping. She looked forward again and saw Daryl further ahead. He hadn’t even spared her a glance backward.

“Daryl—wait!” She cried out. “Wait for me! Please! Please! Don’t leave me!”

His only response was, “C’mon! Hurry up!”

Her legs pumped harder, pushing her up the stairs and after him. Another staircase. Then another. And still, another after that. When would it end? Would they ever be safe?

She could hear the infected gaining on her, so much faster than she could ever be, their screams growing louder, their footsteps growing closer.

Was Daryl going to leave her behind? Was he really going to sacrifice her for his own safety?

Could she really blame him if he did?

[toruvi]

Heyy! I hope you’re doing well (:

If it’s not too spoilery for future chapters, I was wondering what parts/aspects of paychecks are you excited to get into?

Personally, I’m very excited to see how Levi’s friends react to meeting reader, and seeing how different/protective he is with her, and Levi simply being more vulnerable (like telling her what his tattoos mean) and realizing she won’t leave him 🥲 maybe even seeing something from his perspective on those topics, I think it would be really interesting to read his stress/anxiety in preparing to tell, and actually telling her these things. I really like the way you wrote Levi’s emotions these last couple chapters, and would definitely love to see more.

I've been most excited for the next chapter. It's the banquet chapter and and SO much is gonna happen in it. I wanted to get it out quickly just bc I want people to read it but iit's been hard to sit down and write fdjkghdfjk but YEAH some big things (one of my personal favorite moments too) happen in it :)

But yes! I'm really excited to integrate Reader into Levi's friend group as their relationship progresses and vice versa. Reader is similar to Hange but also gets along really well with Moblit, and I'm looking forward to writing more of him because I don't see him very often in fics ;;

I'm completely smitten with writing from Levi's perspective. Maybe it's because I project onto him a lot fdgjhdfgjk But he's so fun to write for me :( And yes, his vulnerability is something that will be more explored as the story progresses.

[ao3commentoftheday]

I recently started writing for a new fandom, it's big, the,source material is still ongoing, my previous one was a small fandom. My problem is, people a lot more rude and demanding in this fandom. I got comments like, o h i dont wanna be mean but...(points out all the mistakes and grammar and typos in my fic) and its been only a week since óhe last update, but i get comments whether its abandoned and comments that simply read i want more, or update soon. I kind of losing my mmotivation for this current WIP of my because of the feedback i received. When I look at BNFs fics, they only have positive comments. I turned off guest comment andturned on comments moderation but i still get comments like this. It's overwhelming. I share fics to share the story and my ideas and excitement with others, but it feels like posting it doesn't worth it. Any idea what i could do in this situation?

*hugs* I'm so, so sorry that you're dealing with this anon 💗 That doesn't sound very welcoming of your new fandom.

I'm glad that you've already turned off guest comments and turned on moderation. Both of those things are what I usually advise as a first step. Apparently with this fandom, you'll need to go further.

When you get a comment from someone you consider rude, look at the bottom of the comment. You'll see a group of buttons there. Tap on the Block button. Doing that will open up a new page where you learn that Blocking a user means they can no longer kudos or comment your works or reply to your comments elsewhere on the site.

You can unblock people at any time by visiting your Preferences page, but in the meantime it will stop those people from leaving comments on your works at all.

Another option you have is to use your Author's Note to tell people that you don't want comments giving you corrections. Alternatively, you can leave a note telling people what kind of comments you do want. @longlivefeedback has a Comment Project that can help you out with that.

When it comes to "update soon" and "I want more" comments, it might also help to look at them a different way. When you read them as people making demands on you, they are very upsetting. If you change the meaning to "I'm on the edge of my seat and I'm going crazy waiting to read the next chapter! I want to know what you're going to do next!" then maybe it feels better?

You also always have the option of leaving the fandom, but if you want to stick with it then I hope this helps.

I'll open it up to the blog and see if anyone else has more ideas of what you can do in this situation. I really am sorry this is happening, anon.

[janaispunk]

i can see the end as it begins

chapter 1 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You meet your father’s new friend for the first time, but he’s a lot different than you expected.

word count: ~5k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad isn’t a nice person), able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, semi-public sex, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, spanking, pet names, let me know if i missed anything 🫶🏻

a/n: my favorite person on this app @joelscurls planted the idea of dbf!dave in both our heads and after many many feral dms, porn gifs, plotting and just generally freaking out, we have finally managed to put the first chapter together :) we’re currently planning with 4 chapters in total that we’re gonna take turns posting, so go follow jess if you don’t already (criminal behavior tbh)! i’m beyond excited to be able to do this with someone whose writing i adore sooo much, we’re both beyond excited about this story, and we hope that you enjoy it 🫶🏻

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @janaispunknotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics!

“I want a divorce.”

It’s been almost a year since Carol spoke those words into the tense silence of their dining room and they still echo in Dave’s mind as if it happened yesterday.

He doesn’t mourn the marriage, doesn’t miss Carol, not in the way he probably should. But he mourns the life that he had, the perfect suburban family, the stability. A little boring maybe, but safe, calming. Predictable.

And he misses his girls. He misses the sound of small feet on the hardwood-floor greeting him as soon as he opened the front door, giggly exclamations of “Daddy’s home!” and tiny hands grabbing at him, begging to be picked up. Now he opens the door to an empty, silent apartment. He has them every second weekend, which he rationally knows makes the most sense with his often irregular working hours, but it’s simply not enough. It’s like time is constantly running through his fingers and he just can’t make it stop, can’t bring his life back under control.

He’s doing what he can to keep himself busy, anything to keep his mind occupied and his thoughts from spiraling into that pit of loneliness that he’s found himself in. He started reconnecting with friends, going out with his colleagues and contacting people from his army days that he hasn’t spoken to in years, trying to build a social life outside of his family and the neighbors that he no longer lives next to.

It’s tedious, making him realize that he really doesn’t like people all that much, but it’s better than spending his evenings by himself and wondering where things went so awfully wrong.

He spends a lot of time with Jim, one of the guys that trained with him and that he always got along with rather well. Jim was delighted when Dave called, promptly inviting him to join him at golf the next day, which somehow turned into a weekly event on Dave’s schedule. It’s nice enough, giving him some sense of routine and he finds that he’s rather good at it. Jim runs his own company by now, the thing that he invests all of his time in, which got him a lot of money, but also a divorce.

It’s all he talks about, too, but it’s fine with Dave, not being forced to contribute that much to the conversation – because really, there’s not much worth mentioning happening in his life anyway – and he’s content to just nod along and hum in agreement most of the time.

Jim has a daughter too, a lot older than Dave’s though, already out of the house, attending law school. He can tell that Jim is proud when he talks about her, but it always seems to be connected to achievements, an underlying pressure to their relationship that leaves Dave a little uneasy and he silently vows to himself to never apply any sort of conditions to his love for his daughters.

But he's never met the young woman and he probably never will, so he doesn’t dwell on it, because what does it matter to him, really?

You huff a sigh as the familiar sight of the country club that your father loves to frequent comes into view and hand the Uber driver a tip before sliding out of the car.

You had thought you’d be getting a night out with your Dad, just the two of you, a rare occurrence. Not that you had been particularly looking forward to being grilled about law school, your grades, networking and internship opportunities, but at least he would be listening to you, paying attention. Joking that he was making sure that the money he put into your education was well invested, a joke that felt less funny every time you were reminded just how financially dependent you were on your father.

If the topic of conversation wasn’t school, it was what kind of acquaintances you’ve made, if maybe you’d met a guy with good connections, someone who could introduce you to the right people. Cautionary warnings not to get involved with the wrong sort, not to get on the wrong track.

Just once, you would like to talk about if you were enjoying school, what living on your own was like, how you got along with your roommate, the fun times you had with your girlfriends, anything about your life that wasn’t somehow connected to success or keeping up appearances. But your relationship wasn’t like that. He didn’t care about these sorts of things, he never had.

You continuously swallowed down the heavy feeling of envy in your stomach when your friends talked about their parents, painting a picture of unconditional love and support that was foreign to you, telling yourself that everything was fine the way it was.

“I invited Dave to join us tomorrow,” he then told you yesterday morning, offhandedly, sipping his coffee and his eyes already glued to his phone. You nodded silently, forcing your lips into something that resembled a smile. He had mentioned someone named Dave before, an old friend from his army days that he had recently reconnected with, if you remembered correctly. It didn’t matter, really, your father’s countless acquaintances blurred into a mix of vaguely familiar faces in your head anyway. If you had mixed feelings about the evening plans before, this new development made it clear that you wouldn’t partake in the conversation much, just smile politely, sit pretty and let the grown ups talk.

Steeling yourself, you walk in, your heels clicking against the floor. After spotting your dad almost immediately and waving in his direction, you make a beeline for the bar. He was sitting alone, you think, furrowing your brow in thought. You’re running a little late yourself, maybe that Dave guy couldn’t make it? You don’t hate the idea of that.

Dave had been reluctant to come out tonight, couldn’t help the feeling that he was intruding on his friend’s father-daughter time, something that he was desperate to have more of, but Jim had insisted.

“Lots of women you could meet there!”

He had scoffed under his breath, not able to picture himself meeting someone new, going through the motions of getting to know them, opening up, adjusting his routine to someone else’s again. He could much less picture himself meeting a woman he’d be interested in at a fucking country club of all places. Eventually, the thought of another evening in his silent and empty apartment with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company made him accept anyway.

He’s drumming his fingers against the polished wooden bar, waiting to pick up the second round of beers for Jim and himself, when someone slides up to the counter beside him. He glances over, eyes focusing in on the woman who is studying the drinks menu.

He feels an inexplicable pull towards her, couldn’t look away again even if he tried. She’s beautiful, he thinks as he takes in her features in the soft warm light, lingering on the shape of her lips, before his gaze trails down her body, over the short black dress that’s clinging to her in the most enticing way. She’s also younger than him; too young, the responsible part of his mind argues. Not the kind of woman that he should be interested in meeting. He still can’t look away.

“Evening.” The greeting comes out before he can stop himself. She looks up, a hint of annoyance on her pretty face, but her gaze softens as her eyes meet his. A smirk plays on her lips.

“Hi.” Her eyes flicker down his own body and up again, something akin to excitement taking over her expression. He’s rusty, hasn’t done this in ages, but her interest is palpable, and it shoots a thrill of pleasure through him.

“I’m David,” he introduces himself. No one has called him David in… god knows how long, but it feels better than Dave in this moment, right somehow. Like he can be a different person, just for a little while.

“Pleasure,” she grins, tells him her name and shakes his hand, her eyes glinting in the warm lights of the bar. Her touch on his skin, even just his hand, is like electricity is flowing through the air between them. She feels so soft and his life has been so devoid of softness lately that he has to force himself to let go of her hand again.

Something tugs at the back of his mind, like this name should ring a bell, but he shoves the thought aside. He’s too busy picturing himself taking her home this evening, imagining how soft her skin would feel in other places, how she would look splayed out underneath him on his sheets, how her breath would sound when he–

“I’ve never seen you around here before, are you new?” her melodic voice interrupts the vivid daydream playing in his mind. She has taken a step towards him and hints of the sweet notes of her perfume are beginning to surround the air around him. It’s getting a little hard to think straight.

“I– yes. First time actually,” he laughs and delights in the way her face lights up at the sound. “You come here a lot, then?” The cliché line makes him want to cringe, but she doesn’t falter, only shrugs and lets her eyes slowly trail down his body once more, obviously wanting him to notice.

“Depends. I might be here more often if it means I get to see you.”

She reaches out until her fingers softly graze his wrist and it demands a great amount of willpower not to take her home right this instant.

The heartbeat in your chest is thrumming along to the butterflies that are erupting in your stomach. You’ve never been this bold, too shy to flirt at all most of the time, but the stranger in front of you is clouding your sense of judgment and has your insecurities flying right out of the window. His interest is written over his face clear as day and you feel an immediate pull towards him that you can’t explain.

He’s so handsome that your hands are itching to touch him more, to find out if he’s as broad and solid as is large frame suggests, if that jawline would feel as strong under your fingertips as it looks, and if his deep brown eyes would soften before you press your lips against his. No wedding ring either, you note in the back of your mind, sending another surge of excitement through you.

The fact that he seems old enough to be your father, something that your therapist would probably have a few words to say about, is only adding to the arousal that’s coursing through your veins. You want him.

You almost jump when your drinks arrive in front of you; you had all but forgotten where you are, and that you’re very much in eyesight of your actual father. Suddenly, you feel silly, reality catching up to you. Surely he was just being nice and you read way too much into it, making a fool of yourself.

“Well, I–I’ll see you around then.” You hastily grab your glass and are ready to make a run for it, when his large hand wraps around your elbow.

“Looking forward to it,” he purrs, before he takes the two beers off the counter in front of him.

Awkwardness slowly sets in when you start walking in the same direction, but it doesn’t fully hit you until you both stop at the same table, your father beaming up at you.

“Sweetheart, you already met Dave I see, that’s great. Come, sit!”

You’re frozen, stupidly blinking between your father and the man beside you a few times. The man who introduced himself as David.

David. Dave. Oh. Oh.

“Y–yeah,” you stutter out eventually and plaster a smile on your face as you take a seat beside your dad. David looks just as dumbstruck as you feel when he slides into the chair opposite from you, quietly handing one of the beers over to your dad. His friend.

Your father launches into a story about their army days together and you’re nodding along, but not one word actively registers in your brain. The conversation eventually moves on to your dad’s recent work projects, the majority of the talking done by him, with the occasional question from David, while you’re silently sipping on your drink.

The initial embarrassment of the whole situation makes you want to sink down into the ground, but still you can’t keep your eyes from flicking to David again and again. They linger on his lips, constantly in a pout that you would give anything to feel against yours, the slight shadow of stubble on his cheeks at the end of the day that you know would scratch against your skin so deliciously, the way his hand dwarfs his beer on the table, thick fingers that could stretch– No. No, you’re not going there.

Your cheeks are burning and you stare down at the tabletop in front of you.

When your gaze lifts back up, David’s eyes are already trained on you, glinting like he knows exactly what you’ve been thinking about. You reluctantly look back at your father, who’s still rambling on about some big client that he’s currently dealing with, completely oblivious to the charged energy between his friend and you.

David shifts in his seat and his leg bumps against yours under the table. You grasp your drink tighter, forcing yourself not to react in any way, but you don’t move away either. Neither does he. You shoot him a look and the hint of a smirk plays around his mouth. He looks too damn good like this, so excitingly wrong in a way that makes your pulse flutter.

It feels like you’re burning up from inside and as little attention as your dad is paying to you, you’re certain that he’s gonna notice that something is off with you eventually. You hastily scramble to your feet and excuse yourself to the bathroom. You feel David’s eyes on you as you walk away until you’re out of sight.

The cool water that you run over your wrists and splash onto your cheeks does a poor job of calming you down. Stupid, stupid, stupid, you admonish yourself. It’s certainly not more than a tiny bit of flirting to him, if at all, just some harmless fun to amuse himself probably, and you’re getting this worked up about it.

No. You need to get out of this situation. You’re gonna walk back out there, make something up about a headache and catch a cab home. It will probably earn you a lecture about politeness later in the evening, but you’ll gladly take that.

When you approach the table again, your dad is just getting off his phone, his expression already far away. You know that look all too well, being subjected to it almost daily.

“Work emergency?” you ask, without a real question behind your words.

“Yeah,” he grumbles, getting up, barely looking at you, already all business. “Sorry, I gotta get to the office, Dave will drive you home. Right, Dave?”

Your eyes fly to David and you catch him swallowing hard, but he nods regardless, lips quirking up in a forced smile. “Of course.”

You both silently watch your father’s retreating back, already speaking into his phone again. The fabric of Dave’s pants ghosts against your bare leg below the table once more. You wish it were his fingers instead.

You hadn’t anticipated to be alone with him and all the reasonable thoughts that you’ve come up with in the privacy of the bathroom are wiped from your mind. It feels like you’re buzzing, a rush of excitement thrumming through your veins, like your body knows that you’re on the brink of doing something really stupid and really fucking tempting.

“I’m sorry, about earlier,” you murmur, looking up at him through your lashes. He smirks, a knowing glint in his eyes as he takes in your expression. He still hasn’t moved his leg.

“I don’t think you are.”

Your stomach swoops at his words. You bite your lip. He wouldn’t be acting like this if he didn’t want you, would he? His eyes dart to your lips at the movement and darken. Fuck it.

“No, I’m not.” You pray that he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your voice. He’s fucking intimidating and this is wrong on so many levels and you want him so badly to want you.

The tension between you is a palpable thing, almost making it hard to breathe when he leads you out of the club, his hand at the small of your back and causing you to shiver. Will he really just drive you home? Will he say something, do something, touch you more? You don’t know how to ask for any of it and desperately wish that he’ll take the reins, that somehow he already knows what you want. You have a feeling that he does.

He opens his car door for you, another thing that really shouldn’t affect you this much, before he walks around the vehicle and gets in beside you. You catch a hint of his cologne in the confined space and press your thighs together before you can stop yourself. Your heart is racing and you just know that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

He clears his throat. “We gotta stop at my place, I have some paperwork that I’d like your–” He interrupts himself, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles are white, “that I’d like Jim to look over for me.”

You nod, a small hum leaving your throat. The implication of going to his place has you reeling. He nods back, stealing a glance at you before he starts the car. You can’t help watching him as he drives, the subtle control that he exudes, the way the muscles on his thighs are flexing underneath the fabric of his pants. He looks over at you a few times, and you don’t have it in yourself to pretend that your eyes aren’t glued to him.

“See something you like?” he asks eventually, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Yeah,” you answer, so breathless it’s embarrassing and you shift a little in your seat. Your dress rides up at the movement, revealing more skin, and his eyes fly down instantly.

“Me too,” he rasps.

When he stops the car in front of his building, you decide that it’s time to be brave.

“Do you want me to come up with you?”

“No,” his answer comes instantly. His tone isn’t cold, but determined, not to be argued with.

“Oh.” Your cheeks are heating up again. You hate how small your voice sounds. “I thought–”

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, avoiding your gaze.

“I can’t. You’re– You know why. You know I can’t.”

“I don’t care. I’m an adult, I can do what I want.”

He shakes his head, still not looking at you.

“Sweetheart, stop. Trust me, I want to, but–”

“Please?” You’re begging, no dignity left in you, only want want want. “Just one time. Please, David?”

His eyes fly up to your face at that. You can see the shift, the way his expression hardens, turning into something feral that has heat growing between your legs.

“Just one time,” he repeats, his voice dark with desire, no longer trying to conceal it.

His hands find your thighs, grabbing at you roughly, moving you until you’re in his lap, legs spread wide, his breath fanning against your lips. One hand is in your hair, the other gliding under the hem of your dress, his touch turning you into a trembling mess.

“This is what you want?” he growls, the grip in your hair tightening. You don’t think that you’ve ever wanted anything as much as this.

“Please,” you whine again, and he presses forward, lips clashing against yours, the kiss all tongue and teeth and desperate need and you’re melting into him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his hands all over you now, grabbing at your dress, your skin, any place he can reach.

Your mouth travels over his cheek and down to his neck, sucking kisses and bites into his skin. The stubble scratches against your face just like you thought it would and you start working on the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers, rolling your hips, desperate for friction. His grip steadies you, pulling down the neckline of your dress, kissing along the lace of your bra before he pulls the cups down too. A groan rises up in his throat as he cups your tits, thumbs circling over your already hardened nipples before he leans forward and sucks one into his mouth.

“Fucking perfect,” he rasps, breath hot against your damp skin. You arch into his touch and he chuckles, sucking on the bud again before he bites down, eliciting a loud moan from you. His touch travels up your thighs, leaving a burning trail behind, until his fingertips rub over the soaked fabric of your panties and you gasp at the barely-there touch.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, pressing down harder. “Already dripping for me, huh? You want it that bad?”

You nod eagerly, pushing down onto his fingers.

“Alright.” He sounds just as wrecked as you feel. He starts undoing his belt buckle and his pants and you lift up just enough to allow him to shove them down his hips.

At the first glance at his cock, your mouth falls open, a silent breath escaping you. He’s big, certainly the biggest you’ve ever had, and maybe you should think about how you’ll take all of him inside of you, but you find yourself craving him, craving the stinging stretch, craving the feeling of being as close as possible to him.

“Don’t worry.” He seems mildly amused, catching your lips in another kiss. “We’ll make it fit.”

Another shudder runs through your body at this. “I’m not worried,” you admit in a whisper.

He laughs at that, a breathless sound that you instantly want to hear again.

“Good.”

He pulls your underwear to the side and thrusts one thick finger up into your slick heat without warning. His thumb rubs around your clit and you already feel an orgasm creeping up on you. He adds a second finger, his rhythm relentless, and you cry out, grabbing his shoulders, trying to steady yourself, but it’s pointless. You’re already clenching, so close to the edge, when he pulls out of you and fixes you with a hard glare.

“Not yet. You’re only gonna come on my cock tonight, understood?”

You want to scream, want his fingers back, but you realize that you also want this authority, want him to take control, to take whatever he wants from you. It’s a heady feeling, one that you’ve never experienced before, but you’re already desperate for more.

“Okay,” you agree, and his responding smirk is enough for another wave of wetness to gather between your legs.

With one steadying hand securely on your hip, he leans over to the glovebox, mumbling about protection, but you stop him, fingers looping around his wrist.

“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean, I promise. You don’t need–”

He leans back, the grip on your hip tightening again.

“Fuck sweetheart, are you sure?”

You nod quickly, another “please” falling from your lips.

The grin on his face is downright feral as he hikes your dress up higher, eyes raking over your body. You’re sure that you look a mess, all intimate parts of you on display, your skin damp with sweat, your hair a wild nest. You curl in on yourself a little, but David won’t have any of that.

“Hey,” he growls, fingers digging into your thighs. “If I’m gonna do this, you’re gonna look at me and beg for it, are we clear?”

You lift your head, wide eyes searching his. Desperate to do what he asks, desperate for his approval. He’s gorgeous in the low lights, his cheeks flushed, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face and chest.

“Please,” you whine. “Please David, I need you.”

His movements turn frantic at your words, moving you around until you’re positioned just above him, your panties pulled to the side, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, already soaking him.

“Just one time?” he rasps once more.

“Just one time,” you agree. You’d agree to anything right now.

He pulls you down slowly, beginning to part your walls. You whine loudly at the stretch. It burns, but you relish in the feeling of getting filled by him, and his responding groan has your lips pulling up in a smile.

You keep sinking down, moving until he’s completely sheathed inside you and your eyes fall shut at the overwhelming sensation. His fingers are on your chin in an instant, giving your head a light shake.

“Nuh-uh, eyes right here, sweetheart,” he reminds you, gritting the words out. He twitches inside you and you force your eyelids to open again.

“Feels so good,” you whine, your voice reduced to a broken, breathless thing, but then he starts moving and you’re not able to form words any longer.

He rolls his hips up into you and you meet his thrusts with your own movements, clinging to his shoulders for dear life. His hands are everywhere, digging into your hips, pinching your nipples, gripping your chin whenever your eyes are starting to slip closed again.

So you keep your gaze obediently on him, your eyes locked, delighting in the way his face scrunches up in pleasure, in the sounds that are falling from his lips, matching your own.

“Good girl, taking me so fucking well,” he groans, his hand connecting with your ass in a light slap. An obscenely loud moan escapes you in response and you clench around him, more wetness covering his length and your thighs.

He stills and leans back to take in your heated face and blown pupils, an amused smirk forming on his face. “You liked that, huh?”

You nod, once again unable to meet his eye.

“Hey,” he demands, his fingers grabbing your face again. “Eyes on me, remember?”

Your gaze reluctantly trails up and his smirk grows.

“So…” he drawls, slowly picking up his thrusts again, “what exactly did you like, huh? When I called you a good girl… or when I did this?”

He smacks your ass again and you grind down onto him almost instinctively. You’re burning up in shame, but you obediently hold his gaze.

“B–both,” you whisper, in disbelief that you’re admitting this to him, but you feel too good to hold back now.

“Fuck,” he growls, his movements speeding up and his grip on your hips bordering on painful, “knew you were a dirty little thing.”

Another slap lands on your skin, harder than before, at the same time that he thrusts deep into you. The combined sensations are enough to throw you over the edge that you had been teetering on since he first touched you and you scream out his name as you fall apart.

He holds your shaking body close, cock grinding into you as you pulse around him and he groans, burying his face in your neck, spilling his own release deep inside of you.

“Fucking perfect,” he whispers, mouth pressing against your skin. “Can’t believe that you let me–”

You barely make out the words, ecstasy still coursing through your veins, but you lean into him, holding onto his broad shoulders, feeling like his body is the only real thing in your world right now.

You stay like this, entangled in each other’s embrace until your breaths even out and he carefully lifts your face, pressing one more kiss against your lips. It hits you suddenly, that this might be the last kiss that you share with him. Just one time, right?

He helps you to properly put your clothes back on, supporting your weight as you slink back into the passenger seat, before he pulls his pants back on and jogs up to his apartment to gather the paperwork for your father.

Your father. His friend. Fuck. Now that the lust-induced haze has lifted a bit and you’re able to think more clearly again, the weight of tonight’s events starts crashing down on you. He would kill you. He can’t know, no one can.

Dave returns within minutes, his brow furrowed as he takes you in. You think that he clocks the growing panic that is probably written all over your face. He reaches for your hand, slowly enough that you could retract it if you wanted to, but you long for his touch, for the reassurance of it.

“You alright?” he asks softly.

“Yeah.” You nod, trying to convince yourself as much as him.

He nods back, not prying, which you are grateful for, and starts the car, making his way over to your house. Your hand still clasped in his. Both your release and his pooling in your panties.

You only let go of him when he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine. You don’t think that your dad checks the footage from the security cameras regularly, but it’s a risk that you’re not willing to take.

“Thank you,” you mumble, once again unable to meet his eyes. “I– I had a great night.”

He smiles, appearing more relaxed than he’d been all evening.

“Me too, sweetheart. Good night.” You feel his eyes on you as you walk up to the door.

You shower, reluctantly washing away all traces of the evening and crawl into bed. You still feel his hands on your skin, the sensation following you into your dreams.

When the morning comes, hushed promises of just one time echo in your head, but the desire to do it again, for more, is burning through your body, consuming your thoughts.

“Hey Dad,” you ask, stepping into his office where he’s brooding over documents, “I think I left my jacket in Dave’s car, could you give me his number? Maybe I can go pick it up.”

if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending in an ask – it’s really the thing that keeps writers going :)

[apt502-if]

— January 2024

Hello! I've never done a post like this before but :p I thought it would be helpful to start keeping people updated. Right off the bat: this next update is going to big.

Chapters (or episodes) that have to do with MC's job will always be big because I have to code 7 different routes essentially and they're all different, but this next update has an additional branching route so yes it will be meaty. The plot is slowly unraveling and there wasn't much flirting or romance opportunities in the demo so I'm excited to slowly add that in. MC is still reeling from their breakup so I've been trying to find a good balance between the story and the routes. It's been very fun :P Rainn has been a little bit of the main character but that can and will obviously change with the choices.

When I first opened this I did say they make take a while since there's a lot of flavor text and variations! Thank you everyone for your patience.

I hope to get it out ASAP but there's a lot to sift through. I've been editing the demo and changing a few things, adding more variable and choice opportunities for more flavor text so I hope it's worth the wait when I update the demo! I apologize for not being active on Tumblr but my day job takes a lot of my time and I'd rather spend my free time writing and then answering questions after dropping an update. I will try to be around more.

Oh. Also m!Cal has a new name: Callum. He goes by Cal for short heh. Now we have Calliope and Callum. YAY! Just thought I'd throw that in there.

TLDR: want to drop the update soon and it will be pretty big :P

That's all really. Last but not least, thank you for 4,000 followers! That's a lot of people! I hope you guys like what I have planned next :>>

[itskattkm]

The air in my lungs

Chapter 1

Cairo Sweet x Fem Reader

Summary: A stroke of fate changes you and leads you into the arms of Cairo Sweet. Will she be your downfall or save you?

Warnings: 18+, Grief, Injuries, Smoking, Trauma, anxiety, sexual content, student x teacher mentioned, harm, blackmailing, bad grammar

A/N: Based and inspired by Millers Girl. Mr. Miller himself isn’t really present but will be mentioned. Hope you guys enjoy. Also I’m not sure if I should make it a fem g!p reader. Let me now if so :)

Master list | Next chapter

It was almost the end of the current school year. Soon would be a long and warm summer in Texas maybe the last summer for Cairo here, before she would leave it for Stanford in California. As always she was one of the students that were pretty early, since this was a private school, she had pretty many ways to get in here and just do her thing. That’s why Cairo was working on a new idea for her book, holding a cigarette in her other hand. Not caring at all that she was smoking in the empty classroom. Well almost empty classroom. She had noticed you were sitting near her and gave you a frown. Why did you even sit so near. Like the class wasn’t already empty enough, couldn’t you sit somewhere else? Cairo was a bit pissed, she didn’t liked it when other students could see her work or maybe even interrupt her while working.

“I’m writing. I’d appreciate if you respected that” Cairo mutters, without even looking your way. She takes another drag of her cigarette afterwards. Her gaze fixed on the screen of her laptop.

You turned around “So what? I’m not allowed to sit near you?” You asked with a cold tone but a dirty smile on your lips making Cairo look up and straight into your eyes, with pretty zeros emotions.

“No.” Cairo replied, trying to go back to her writing without laughing. Unfortunately that didn’t happen, since Cairo was now laughing at your reaction. She put down her pencil, which had the cigarette dangling in her mouth still. Cairo turned and smirked at you. “You do realize you’re just asking to get teased, don’t you?”

You fully turned around now and walked towards her. In the way you walked Cairo could tell you were somehow… pissed? Angry? There was something frightening and exciting in the way you walked over her and suddenly stole her cigarette from her mouth, while taking a deep hint on it. Cairo was totally overwhelmed and watched you with fixated eyes. The cigarette left your lips and in the next moment you destroyed the cigarette by pressing it down on her desk.

The next move really caught her off guard. She felt like a frozen statue. Her brain wasn’t able to see that coming but still… it happened and she couldn’t do anything. You reached for her jaw with your hand and held it tight while pulling in and kissing her hard before releasing the smoke of the cigarette in her mouth.

Slowly your grip loosened and you took a step back while looking at her with the coldest eyes she’s ever seen. “Next time don’t smoke around me. I prefer fresh air” that’s what you said with your quiet but low voice before turning around and leaving the class room, making a departure like the newest villain in town.

Cairo was stunned. “D-Did that just happen?” She muttered, still reeling from the shock and adrenaline. She put her hand on her lips and bit them, trying to resist smiling. She turned to her desk once more, pretending to work, but couldn’t help glancing at the door every so often. She wanted to see if you would comeback, but she didn’t want her to get her hopes up. She took the pack of cigarettes from her purse and took another one. “Hmm.. fresh air?” She mumbled to her self.

The next morning was quite the opposite. Cairo was the first of all students like always. Sitting in class and working on her drafts till the teacher would arrive and do their thing. You weren’t there and Cairo could help but wondered why. Wondered why she never noticed you before. It was like you were some sort of a ghost. She knew her classmates. She knew you but still… she never really saw you. Then Y/N entered the classroom as the last one while everyone was already there. She sat down on her table in the last row and began to unpack her laptop, also waiting for the teacher to arrive now.

When Y/N raiser her gaze to look to the front of the class she saw Cairo sitting in the middle of the first row like always. She was holding a book in her hands that looked a bit older and seemed like she was Reading.

Like if Cairo had felt some sort of bigger power or more of a shiver down her shoulders she turned her head and glanced over to you, only to look away immediately, slightly blushing. She didn’t like the fact that you were making her blush already… but something deep down inside of her couldn’t help it. She still could feel your lips on hers. How surprisingly soft they felt and the way you stole her air while letting the smoke of the cigarette in her mouth. Like you were sucking out her soul or something. She could feel your eyes on her, and she didn’t wanted to think any longer about yesterday. So Cairo focused on the book she had been reading and turned to a chapter, ignoring your glances at her.

You couldn’t help but liked the fact that Cairo was turning around just to check if you were there. I small smile creeped up on your lips and you found yourself blushing. Feeling somehow proud and confident. But still, it was something you didn’t wanted others to see so you tried to get that fucking smile out of your face.

There was that invisible power, the urge to look back at you it was like fighting against the need, no the urge to look back at you and get lost in the moment. So Cairo looked over her shoulder with a blush on her face. She put the book down and cleared her throat. “Whatcha looking at?” She tried to say monotone to not show how excited she was. After that she put on her headphones and resumed reading as if nothing had ever happened. You continued to stare, so she shifted in her seat, getting irritated at the lack of privacy during a quiet time. Why couldn’t you just leave her alone?

You didn’t respond to her question. Instead you stayed quiet and kept watching at the back of her long and dark hair. It was quite interesting for you how her hair looked almost black but on days where the sunshine fell on them you could see they were quite the opposite. A hidden chocolate brown making your mouth somehow watering at the thought of chocolate itself, how stupid you thought.

When finally the teacher attended the class Cairo tried to focus once more on something else than you, but kept glancing at you every so often, only to catch you staring at her. Even if you didn’t say anything, it definitely made Cairo feel uneasy.

“Don’t break your neck while keep turning around to look at me” I texted her and the message popped up on her laptop, you could see from your view.

Cairo’s eyes widened at the message. It was from you. She read it again, making sure it wasn’t a mistake. She turned around towards you and typed, “Well, you keep looking at me, so…”

“Because the teacher is in front of you. If I were you I wouldn’t have choose the seat in the first row and in the middle of the class” the text popped up on Cairos screen.

“And so? I can sit wherever I want.” Cairo rolled her eyes but couldn’t contain her racing heart when she send the message.

“Then stop wondering or thinking that I look at you. I’m trying to pay attention to our teacher” you texted back fast. Cairo wanted to believe her, but wasn’t sure if her words were true. Cairo looked at you again, who was focused on the teacher now “You really don’t look at me? Not even by accident?” She texted back curious.

Another message popped up from you saying “Your in the middle of my sight it’s hard to ignore”. Cairo looked to the side and muttered, “Oh..” She looked at you for a couple of more seconds, only to give up and focus on the class again. The class was a bit boring since the teacher went on for quite a while about a topic that seemed uninteresting to Cairo. She continued looking at you, and finally decided to text her again. “So.. Can I ask you something?”

As soon as Cairo send the message she heard her own heart pounding so hard that it made her feel like dying, dying to know what you would say and how you would react.

“Wow is our A+ student getting bored of class? oh my god it’s a miracle!” You answered and hoped she would get the sarcastic hint. Cairo turned to you, rolling her eyes. She wrote, “Shut up, please. And yeah, I’m bored.” She added an eye roll emoji.

You held back a chuckle and tried to focus on the class again. Cairo turned back to the class, then a few words of the teacher’s caught her attention. It was the first time during the class Cairo was actually listening again. The topic of discussion was writing, and she was listening to the lesson. Writing about the perspective of someone who was fighting with being good or bad. There was a moment of silence after the teacher had finished the lesson, which caused Cairo to look at you with a mischievous smile. It lasted only a second, though. She looked down at her notebook, which had a couple of doodles on the margins.

“So? What was your question?” Popped the curious question by you at Cairos laptop up. She wanted to ask you something before you just ignored it and started discussing about who was starring at who and where.

Cairo wrote, “Do you actually like me or are you just flirting with me to be funny?” She pressed the send button without looking at you.

You held back a grin and answered “you think I like you?”.

Cairo’s jaw dropped slightly. She read the message and looked at you directly, now confused. She turned back around and huffed, “So you don’t?”.

“Depends” you send and hoped to tease her. Cairo looked at you as if expecting her to elaborate on that. When you didn’t, she texted again, “Depends on what?”. You couldn’t help but chuckled quite by yourself feeling how you were getting on the nerves of Cairo.

“It’s so funny when you turn around. Your reactions are really amusing me” you texted her and smiled wide in a cute but cheeky way to annoy her even more while waiting for her to turn around again. Cairo rolled her eyes but couldn’t help looking at you. She could’ve sworn she saw your dirty smirk, but she might’ve seen wrong. Cairo rolled her eyes again and looked back at the notebook she was now doodling in. The bell finally rang out, signaling that the class was over. Cairo put away her notebook and turned in her seat again, finding you already staring at her. “Do you… need something?” She asked slightly annoyed since you didn’t moved and kept staring at her.

“Oh yeah” you said calm and your eyes softened while looking at her expensive green leather backpack

“Do you have a cigarette for me?”.

A smirk appeared on Cairo’s face. She looked away, but her smile never went away. “Do you think I like sharing my cigarettes with every person I’m flirting with? I could be flirting with every person on this campus if that was the case.” She had a smug look on her face as she said that, knowing that your response would be interesting. Her smirk stayed on while she waited for you to react. Dreamy. That was the first word that came into Cairos mind when she saw you smiled and looking at her with tilted head “So your flirting with me?” You asked, your voice giving Cairo and weird feeling down her spine… a good feeling.

“Mhm..” Cairo said, still looking away, but smirking at you. She took a cigarette from her pocket, pretending to put it in her mouth. She glanced over at you. “You might wanna get closer for it..” she said in a teasing tone of voice. “I will… trust me” you whispered with a low voice and got up from your desk, walking closer towards her. Cairo turned, and smirked at your approach. “I wouldn’t trust anyone that easily, love.” She said, a smirk still on her face. She took the cigarette out of her mouth, and put it in Y/N for her to take if you desired.

“That’s good” you said in such a calm way it made Cairo feel goosebumps. The way you took it slowly between your fingers made it look like she was watching some sexual commercial or a thirst trap but then you destroyed it right beside her on the desk while smiling cheeky. “What did that cigarette ever do to you, huh?” Cairo asked in a joking tone. She smirked, but was now slightly startled. She looked over to you with a raised brow.

“Stop smoking my dear. It’s not good for you “ you whispered and left the classroom. Cairo watched you leave, a smirk still on her face. “I think I’m getting somewhere…” she muttered, and followed you.

[yuna542]

Connected (OT8 x reader)

Part 1

Pairing: 3Racha x reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Warnings: 18+, Suggestive Themes, Swearing

Word Count: 3.3k

Note: That‘s the first chapter of a series, I‘m writing. It‘s my first time on tumblr… So I‘m a bit confused 0.0

On your first day of your new job as the personal manager of Stray Kids, you didn't expect to be standing in front of the man you made out with last night in a club. But it soon becomes clear that the Stray Kids don't just want you as their manager.

Will this passionate arrangement end your career?

It was one of those goldfish nights where you felt the need to drift in the waters of ecstasy and then forget everything naughty you had done. As if it had never happened.

Everyone did that when they shut down for an evening and dropped all inhibitions.

You'd go to a club, surrender to the neon lights, the sound of the music, and the alcohol, only to pretend the next day that you'd never danced close with strangers, drunkenly ripped your clothes off, or disappeared into a dark corner with the next best guy.

Tonight was one of those nights.

Your group of friends from university had invited you to go to one of the best and trendiest clubs in town, as they said. You didn't go out partying often, but when you did, you left all your worries at home for one night, and tonight was exactly the night you had something to celebrate.

After years of unsuccessful job hunting, you had finally gotten an acceptance letter.

Tomorrow afternoon would your first day at the new company start. Since you had only been living in Korea for a few months, you didn't know the company, so you were even more surprised when you got an acceptance letter for the job after only three days. It seemed like, they liked your profile so much, that they immediately chose you.

You had experience as a music and media journalist and had worked all over the world. Maybe that was exactly what they wanted.

So, to get rid of the excitement, you had accepted and gone to this club with old friends to have fun.

The bass vibrated in your ears and the lights immediately lulled you into the boisterous atmosphere.

Only after a few minutes you stood at bar and ordered the drinks for everyone. There was a group of seven people and you had lost three rounds of scissors-stone-paper. So now you had to take care of the drinks.

Once you ordered everything from memory and remembered the extra requests, even the bartender was impressed.

While he mixed the drinks, you leaned against the bar and looked towards the table that your friends had meanwhile conquered.

"You were able to memorize all that?", asked someone to your left, who was apparently also waiting for his drink.

"Sure... I have a pretty good memory”, you returned, giving the young man a curt look.

He smiled and that's when the bartender came over and set three drinks out for him.

His dark hair fell into his forehead and you looked at the silver rings on his fingers.

"That makes me jealous. I keep forgetting important things..."

He was cute, you had to admit. Although he was obviously trying to look tough with the tank top and leather jacket, his features were soft and his eyes sparkled like buttons in the spotlight. He was a weird mixture between hot and adorable.

You were served your first drinks and averted your eyes from the odd stranger.

"But I'll definitely remember your face!"

Your eyebrows shot up, as his pickup line was actually quite smooth. You turned back to him and couldn't help but smirk at his expectant look.

That's when you spotted two other guys behind him. They were whispering and giggling like kids while watching their friend. Apparently, he hadn't come to the bar just for the drinks.

"Are you flirting with me?", you asked, leaning back against the counter with a teasing grin.

He tilted his head and the corners of his mouth lifted mischievously. In fact, he was really attractive and you couldn't help but stare at him.

"I don't know... Does it work?”

This time you actually had to laugh.

"I gotta go, but feel free to tell your buddies I'm all over you”, you replied, nodding in the direction of the other two, who couldn't avoid to look over at us unobtrusively.

He glanced over his shoulder briefly and then grabbed his forehead with one hand.

"Those idiots..." he muttered more to himself and then put on an apologetic smile.

So you waved at a couple of your friends to help you with the drinks and carry them to the table.

"See you around”, you said goodbye and he just raised his hand sheepishly.

Back at your table, your friend Aiki grabbed you roughly by the shoulder and shook you.

"That guy at the bar! Were you talking to him?"

Confused at her excitement, you glanced again at the bar, where he was now carrying drinks to his friends.

"Yeah, why? He tried to flirt and obviously failed... Although he's really cute," you said with amusement, swirling the straw in your drink.

“No way!”

Her eyes nearly fell out of her head and you still didn't understand.

"What's so special about him?"

"I'm pretty sure that's Han", she explained, as if you had the slightest idea who she was talking about.

When you didn't reply, she said:

"Han Jisung! He is a member of this new K-pop band. They won a big survival-Show a few years ago, and everyone's been really into them ever since."

Sometimes you forget that in addition to her job as a journalist in Korea, she also had a fondness for all K-pop bands. She was almost obsessed with them. BTS was the reason she had gotten into the media world in the first place.

You, on the other hand, had only recently returned to Korea. Even though you were born here, you had spent very little time in the country.

The evening took its course and soon the shot glasses were piling up in front of you, the music sounded more and more enticing and eventually you were magically drawn to the dance floor with a few of your friends.

Another passion of you was dancing.

You had even given dance lessons in America to teenagers and young adults your age. You missed dancing here in Korea.

Therefore, it hardly took a second for you to move your body to the music. It was your very own therapy that brought your mind and body back into harmony.

The music flowed through the speakers directly into your blood and with the alcohol, any inhibitions fell away. Soon you lost your girlfriends somewhere among the people and danced alone. You didn't mind, but that's when you felt someone approaching from behind.

"Don't be startled", a soft voice murmured, and you looked over your shoulder into a frighteningly beautiful face.

Torn from your movement, you stumbled against his chest and he placed a hand firmly on your hip to keep you from losing your balance.

Astonished you turned around completely and the man looked as if he already regretted having approached you. He ran his hand through his dark hair and his biceps stood out.

He was wearing a simple shirt with a denim jacket and the broad shoulders and shy smile didn't quite want to match.

"My friend didn't mean to scare you away earlier. If he said something stupid, I'm really sorry."

That's when you finally recognized him. He was one of that K-pop-Han's friends.

"His pick-up line actually wasn't that bad", you admitted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

In front of his broad shoulders, you suddenly felt small.

Now he looked genuinely surprised.

"Oh... Okay. Do you want to maybe have a drink with us? He could apologise and you seem a little lost all by yourself."

Judging by his engaging aura, maybe he was also part of that band you had never heard of. However, you highly doubted it. Idols were not that friendly. In all the interviews you had done with K-pop bands, the members had always been reserved and cold.

The man in front of you, on the other hand, radiated warmth and his eyes reflected a gentleness that contrasted completely with his massive appearance.

You nodded, after all you didn't feel like looking for your friends. You might as well use the time to meet new people. And the guy made you really curious.

Relieved, he exhaled loudly and let you walk ahead. He led you to a sitting area, where black sofas stood. There you already discovered the guy from the bar, who was talking to the third person.

When he spotted you,he fell silent and looked at you as if he had been hit by a punch.

"I'm Chan, by the way”, the man next to you introduced himself and gave you a soft smile.

"My name is Y/N”, you introduced yourself as well. He smiled broadly and you could only stare at his dimples for a moment.

As you got to the others, his buddy now looked to you and immediately grinned like an idiot.

If Chan was broadly built, this guy was a wall. He wore a tight black shirt under which his defined muscles were very present and the sleeves were so tight around his upper arms that you feared they would burst at any moment.

But he was also unusually attractive. There was something about them all that made it impossible to look away.

"Guys, this is Y/N”, Chan introduced you, and the muscleman stood up to bow curtly.

"I'm Changbin. So our Hannie didn't scare you away too much?"

Said Hannie was still sitting frozen on the sofa, looking at you as if you had flown across the room on a unicorn.

"No, he was actually quite charming. A little awkward, but nice”, you replied with amusement, glaring at him.

"You hear that? She didn't think it was as terrible as it looked from here."

Changbin patted his friend on the shoulder with a chuckling laugh, and he just puckered his mouth in embarrassment.

Then suddenly Chan was standing next to you again with two drinks in his hands. You hadn't even noticed he was gone.

"I didn't know what you wanted, so now I just got a strawberry margarita and a caipirinha. Have whatever you want! I'll have the other one then."

Surprised by his kindness, you blinked at him a bit surprised. Never had a guy been so accommodating in a bar.

"I'll have the margarita. Thank you.”

You sat down and ended up between Jisung and Chan. It wasn't long before Han had regained his confidence back and you were toasting, chatting, and you completely lost track of time.

The guys were really friendly and even though you were the only woman, you didn't feel the least bit uncomfortable in their presence. You even felt quite safe, which was naive considering that you had met them only a few hours ago.

But the alcohol helped to throw all worries overboard.

"I've seen you dance.... Do you do it professionally?", Chan asked, and you felt his thigh brush yours.

Restlessly, you tugged at the hem of your black dress. It reached your thighs and nestled comfortably against your body. Han looked at your legs and cleavage when he thought you wouldn't notice.

Chan, on the other hand looked so deeply into your eyes that you feared he could read your mind.

"I'm a dance teacher. But it's just a hobby."

Changbin leaned forward with interest and nodded.

"What do you do for a living?", asked Han now, and you tried to ignore Chan's hand resting on his thigh, almost touching your leg.

"I'm a music journalist. In fact, I moved back to Korea because I got a job here."

"That sounds exciting!" said Chan, his knuckles seemingly inadvertently brushing you bare skin. Your foggy mind immediately wondered what he would look like without the tank top.

Before you got even more lost in his eyes, you asked:

"And you guys? How do you know each other?"

"We were trained together and we also work together now”, Changbin began, and you noticed the warning looks from the other two.

"So you're self-employed?", you probed further.

Maybe your friend had been mistaken and they weren't in a band at all. Chan nodded quickly before Jisung could open his mouth.

"Yeah right. Us and some friends developed our own brand."

"Sounds cool”, you replied, as the alcohol gradually drove you away from the conversation. You were finding it harder and harder to focus between the men.

So you asked: "Are you guys coming to the dance floor?" You had to do something to get away from Chans teasing hands, Jisungs sweet glares and Changbins biceps.

Han pouted and shook his head.

"I'm going to stay here. Unfortunately, I hurt my foot and need to take it easy."

He really looked like he wanted to sprint out onto the dance floor but couldn't.

"I'll stay with Hannie”, Changbin said, leaning back on the sofa.

"Just the two of us, then", you said to Chan.

Before he could talk back, you pulled him to his feet by his arm and dragged him toward the dance floor.Once there, you turned to him and began to move automatically to the beat of the music.

The alcohol made all the people, the music and the lights melt into one mass and before you understood it, you were dancing pressed tightly against Chan.

At first he was timid, as if he was afraid to touch you, but gradually he became bolder. He also moved smoothly. Controlled and conscious.

Like a dancer.

"You can dance?", you asked amused, wrapping your arms around his neck. He laughed sheepishly and put his hands on your waist.

"A little”, he replied close to your ear so you could hear him over the loud music. Up close, his lips looked even more enticing and you wondered if they tasted as sweet as they looked. His eyes were now roaming up and down your face as well.

You turned and leaned back against his chest and pressed your ass agains his body. A knowing grin spread across your face as you felt his fingers digging harder into your sides as you rolled your hips against his.

He moved with you and with every little touch, the air charged electrically. You were insanely hot and his shirt was also sticking to his body by now. You grinded your ass harder against him and he immediately had to gasp right at your ear.

That's when he quickly turned you around so that you bounced against his chest.

"What are you doing?" he murmured in your ear and you let your fingertips trail over his chest.

"Nothing...", you replied, looking at him through your long lashes. The corners of his mouth slowly lifted and he began to get into the game, letting his hands wander down your back until they were firmly pressed against your ass.

The alcohol breathed carelessness and desire into the two of you.

His lips hovered in front of yours and suddenly you didn't hear the music anymore. His hot breath bounced against your lips and that's when he started spreading kisses on your neck. Overwhelmed by the sudden tension on your skin, you curled your fingers into his shirt.

His lips brushed over your skin as light as a feather, down to your collarbone and finally to your cleavage.

He looked up at you, and the same heat that tightened into a ball in your stomach was reflected in his eyes.

Without thinking any further, you grabbed his hand and pulled him off the dance floor. As soon as you were a little off to the side, in a corner that was dimly lit, you felt his hands on your waist.

Stormily, he pressed you against the wall and that's when his lips finally collided with yours.

That embarrassed, charming boy from before was gone. In its place had come a passionate and wild tornado that swept you helplessly along with it.

His lips moved hard against yours as you buried your hands in his hair.

His broad shoulders shielded you from the rest of the club, and your heart beat so loudly it felt like it wanted to jump out of your chest.

His hands were everywhere, exploring your body, every curve and every patch of skin not covered by fabric.

For a moment, he broke the kiss so you could both catch your breath. His forehead was pressed firmly against yours and there he was grinning again as sheepishly as before.

You were breathing heavily and he shook his head slightly.

"I don't usually do this", he muttered and that's when your eyes met.

"Yeah, me neither", you replied.

That was the truth.

It took a long time for someone to pique your interest, and you usually didn't let people get to you that easily.

But with Chan, suddenly this heat was flowing in your veins and you couldn't turn off the desire even if you tried.

"Actually, I wanted to help Jisung.... I'm a horrible wing man."

"Yeah that's right. Your pretty bad…”

As if he actually had a guilty conscience, he pressed his lips together.

That made you laugh and you had to put your hand over your mouth as he eyed you with those dark eyes.

"Do you regret it?", you asked after a short silence.

Directly, he shook his head.

"No. Definitely not. You're stunning."

That did bring a blush to your cheeks.

Not wanting him to see how much his words flattered you, you pulled him closer again and kissed him intensely.

He pressed you against him until you felt his bulge clearly against your already soaked cunt.

"I want to fuck you right now”, he growled with a deep voice, that turned you even more on.

An excited moan escaped you and you rolled your hips harder against his growing bulge. It would have been easy to push your panties aside and free his dick so he could fuck you in the dark corner against the wall like a slut.

Your head was spinning and you wanted to tear his shirt off his body here and now. But the wild smooching quickly found its end when a voice sounded behind Chan.

"I really don't want to disturb you, but we have to go, Chan!"

He merely released his lips from yours and hung his head, not releasing you from his grip. His hands gripped even harder into your hips.

"Already?"

Changbin had a big grin on his face and you stared at the floor.

"Yeah... You know what's coming up tomorrow. And Han had way to much drinks."

There was a certain professionalism returning to Chans body as he heard about his friend.

"Hannie is already waiting in the cab. Hurry up!"

Chan nodded, then Changbin turned to you again.

"It was nice meeting you."

With that, he awkwardly said goodbye and left.

"I'm so sorry, but I really have to go", Chan said, as if he needed to justify himself, and you suppressed a disappointed sigh.

Instead, you simply nodded. It was getting late for you to go home as well. After all, you had your first day of work tomorrow.

And so the mysterious charming man disappeared and you remembered much too late that you hadn't asked him for his number.

--

The two rappers raised their eyes as their friend finally got into the car. After they drove off, Han asked while rubbing his eyes with one hand:

"What took you so long? We were supposed to be back at the dorm by now. We have a busy schedule tomorrow..."

Chan swallowed and was glad he was sitting in front of his friends and didn't have to face them. So they couldn't see that he was stained red up to his ears. With his arm he tried to hide his erection that won’t get soon if this girl won’t stop to ghost around his head.

He knew that tonight had been a big risk. If someone had recognized him and taken pictures of him with the young woman, he would have been screwed. He didn't know himself what had come over him.

"Hyung?", Han tried again, sounding annoyed. There was silence for a few minutes until Changbin couldn't take it anymore and it just burst out of him.

"I just caught Chan making out wildly with that girl."

The oldest whirled around in his seat despite his seatbelt and stared at Changbin. But Han looked surprised, not angry.

"Really?" he asked, and that's when one corner of his mouth began to lift.

"We just kissed for a second", he justified himself, and Changbin couldn't help but laugh.

"From what I saw, it was a miracle you were still wearing clothes at all. You almost fucked her right next to the dance floor."

Chan lashed out, but couldn't reach Changbin in the back and hit the air. This now made Jisung laugh as well, and they continued to tease him all the way to their apartment, where the rest of the Stray Kids were sleeping.

But in the next morning all of them knew the story of their leader fiercely making out with a hot girl at the club and did not stop teasing him.

-> Part 2

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© Yuna542 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[ao3commentoftheday]

Hi! I hope this question makes sense, but: a while back, you recommended that instead of writers feeling like they have to write thousands of words of build-up in order to write the fic idea of their heart, they should do a fanfic speed run and just write the parts they want to write. And if something doesn’t make sense without context, they can always explain the details in an author’s note.

I really want to try out this advice, but . . . I don’t know how? I know that sounds weird, but I’m always worried any emotional impact of my fic is going to be lost if I don’t include the build-up, especially if it’s an AU of any kind. Maybe it’s because I always feel like my fic has to be completely outlined before writing, but IDK. No pressure, but if you feel like it, could you go back and talk about your fic speed run advice again?

Speedrunning fic is my favourite way to write. I love to jump to "the good bits" or start off in media res and then hit all the highlights as I write my way through. Sometimes, I'll get so excited about the part that I'm going to write next that I actually skip parts that I would also love to write, but they just aren't making my brain sing.

There are a lot of different ways to do this, and it will depend on what kind of story you want to write.

The first common trick I use in ship fic, is to start at the point where at least one of my characters is already aware of their feelings and pining and then write how the other one falls in love too. You can pack a lot of emotional tension into that one character trying desperately not to show how they feel and the other character gradually (or suddenly) realizing they feel the same way.

Another way to get people together faster is to use a plot device that forces them to realize how they feel. Stuck in an elevator. Snowed in in an abandoned cabin in the remote woods. Quarantined after exposure to an alien virus (bonus points if they have to shower together Because Science (tm) ). Again, you can create a lot of tension and that cathartic release without needing the story to occupy months or years of time before you get there.

Other great ways of just writing the fun bits are to make use of the series function on AO3. You have a universe that you want to build out but you just want to write this one tiny corner of it right now? It's the first fic in a series, and the next fic can be some completely different part of that world.

You can also do a classic 5+1 story (which have the added bonus of providing you with a title too). 5 Times They Didn't Kiss and 1 Time They Did. 5 Times the Bad Guy Got Away and 1 Time They Didn't. 5 Times There Weren't Any Chips in the Cupboard and 1 Time There Were. These fics are usually written with 1 chapter per "time" so you can time skip as much as you want in between and even be super vague about when and where things are happening at all.

The most important thing to remember is that your audience already knows these characters. They already love them. They already clicked into your story wanting to know about the thing that you said you're going to write. You don't have to spend time convincing anyone that your story is allowed to exist in this AU or with this ship or in this time period or with this ending. The permission was there as soon as you decided to write it.

If you're worried about whether a story can have impact even if it's short, then I recommend you spend some time reading shorter fics and oneshots. People can absolutely devastate you in 500 words or less or fill you with joy in 300 words. It's not about how many words you use to do it, it's about how you use the words you've got.

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 1 🍒 “Austin"

pre-outbreak! AU!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 2K

Summary: new to the city, you befriend Sarah, and in a time of need you befriend her dad Joel

WARNINGS: this particular chapter is safe for everyone to read, but future chapters will contain smut; mild cursing, little bit of flirting; age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 35); reader is tomboyish but otherwise no race specified and will not be throughout the series; until otherwise specified, this story takes place in the summer of 2003 and is AU with no outbreak, no use of y/n.

Author's Note: this was the first fic I ever wrote, after months of lurking on AO3. It's one of my favorites to write and probably my most popular on AO3, so I'm bringing her to the party. In this particular chapter Joel fixes a sink, and I did minimal investigating into the world of plumbing, so obviously any mistakes are just gonna be there.

Series Masterlist

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Austin is quiet. So much quieter than where you came from: Houston, the city on the bayou, where there's always something fun to do. Not that Austin is without its charm, it just kind of feels like living on the moon after the hustle and bustle of your hometown, the fourth largest city in the US. But the people are friendly, the vibes are mellow, and you soon begin to feel at home.

Soon you'll be starting college at the University of Texas, a school you've had your eye on since fifth grade. Your mom, overprotective but meaning well, allowed you to stay with your older cousin Sofia rather than living on campus. And you're excited about it because even with a roommate, this is your first time on your own, away from home, about to really live your life.

School starts in a couple months, so in the meantime you get a job at a new Starbucks in town, providing you with a little spending money. The first few days are a blur, making drinks, learning the register. But it keeps you busy, A few times a week a younger group of kids come in, ordering the cheapest things on the menu. One of them, a girl 13 or 14 years old, approaches the counter. She studies the overhead menu with an air of seriousness. "What's in a frappuccino?" she asks.

"Um, coffee, espresso, milk, ice, and syrup blended together, basically. Comes with whipped cream on top. I could give you one to try," you offer, as your manager is out that day.

"Sure," the girl answers eagerly.

You make the cold, frothy drink and hand it to her. "I'm still pretty new at this, so if you hate it, I'm sorry," you joke.

She smiles and walks back to her friends, sipping the frapp.

You work until evening and pick up some fast food on the way home, Getting out of the car with your food you lean back against the vehicle, stretching a little, trying to wake yourself up a bit. Then you hear the sound of a truck coming up the driveway next door and the engine shutting off. There are a couple of voices you hear as the people begin to exit the truck.

"Hey, she's the one who gave me the free coffee today," you hear, and though it likely isn't meant for you to hear, you glance over and see the young girl from earlier today, climbing out of the truck. From around the driver's side you see a man, mid-thirties, tall, well-built, a black t-shirt clinging to his torso. Dirtied jeans and work boots complete his attire. It takes a moment before you realize he's looking at you.

Immediately you glance back at the girl, obviously his daughter. "Hey," you smile and give a quick, awkward wave. She waves back politely and he gives a curt nod and quick wave. They make their way up the front porch and you hear his gruff voice: "You had coffee? Great, now you'll be bouncin' off the walls all evenin'," before the door closes behind them.

"Guess I met my neighbors," you mutter, making your way inside as well.

Over the next few days the girl, who you now know as Sarah Miller, comes to Starbucks, ordering the same frapp every time. "Don't tell your dad I'm giving you all this caffeine," you tell her, hiding a smirk.

Sometimes you give her a ride home from the cafe, though she claims to use the bus now and then. You come to see that Sarah is a lot more mature than you were at her age. You hang out from time to time, swim in your backyard pool, go to the mall, and every time you drop her off you catch a glimpse of her dad, always a figure in the background. You exchange a wave or polite smile and move on.

It's your day off, a Sunday. You intend to spend the day lounging, watching TV. Maybe Sarah will stop by. After making a quick breakfast for yourself you do the dishes. When you're finished, you realize the class ring you'd set on the counter is gone, likely washed down the sink. "Damn!" you exclaim, and text Sofia, who has just left for work.

Go next door and ask Mr. Miller if he can take a look and get it out. He's helped around the house before your cousin replies.

You sigh and put the phone down.

You're a little hesitant going to speak to him. His truck is in the driveway so you know he's home. You knock on the door, feeling self-conscious about your first interaction with him, and Mr. Miller opens the door.

"Good morning," you introduce yourself. "I'm Sarah's friend.. from next door."

"Nice to meet ya, I'm Joel Miller." He extends a calloused hand and you shake it. You've always assumed him to be a man who does hard work for a living, but in your first time seeing him up close you admire his tousled, dark brown hair, his deep brown eyes that seem serious. "What can I do for ya?" he asks in his gentle Texan drawl.

You smile. "Well, I was told you're pretty handy around the house, and I lost my ring in the sink just now." You chuckle at your mistake. "Would it be possible for you to come over and take a look?" You feel really shy about asking this of a man you barely know.

He takes a moment to think, clears his throat, raises his brow. "I suppose I could stop by." His tone is gruff but his manner seems warm enough. "I'll give it a shot. I'm no plumber, but I'll see what I can do." He shrugs.

You smile and sigh with relief. "Of course. I mean, even you just checking it out would be a big help.. whenever you can stop by I'll be here." You don't want to make demands on his time.

"All right.. I'm not doin' much right now, so I could swing 'round if you like. Just let me grab my toolbox."

Once inside, with minimal conversation Joel gets on the floor, under the sink, and gets to work. You wait nearby, trying not to hover, but also wanting to be available in case he needs anything. Plus he's good looking. You watch as he works. His shirt rides up, revealing his torso, and a hint of the waistband of his underwear. Your eyes wander lower until you force them away. To distract yourself you start putting things away in the cupboard.

"Sarah tells me you're new to Austin," he says as he works.

"Yeah, I'm actually from Houston. I'm starting UT in the fall, and staying with my cousin in the meantime. I take it you know Sofia?"

"I do. She's nice. I keep an eye on her place when she's away. Even when you're there."

You mean to say something in reply, maybe 'thank you' but you're thinking about him keeping a protective watch over your home while you're inside, unaware.

"So you're starting university? How old are ya?" he asks.

Something about his question makes you feel like a deer in headlights. "I'll be nineteen in September. On the twenty-sixth."

You can almost hear the smile in his voice. "No shit? That's my birthday. Except I'm far from nineteen. Small world, ain't it?"

"Yeah," you say, sneaking another glance at his torso.

"What're you studyin'?"

"English," you answer, excited to talk about it. "More specifically Literature. I want to write, and maybe one day work at a huge publishing house."

You hear Joel give a grunt. "What do you write?"

"Poetry sometimes, short stories, I have a few ideas for novels."

Another grunt. "You don't look like the type.. the writer type.. no offense."

"What type do I look like?" Your heart races as you realize he's categorized you already.

He peeks out from under the sink and his eyes fix on you in a way that makes you shiver. "I don't know yet. But you're young. Maybe you're the rebellious type." He goes back to work.

You sit on the floor, your back against the fridge opposite him. "How am I the rebellious type to you?"

He's quiet, and you see the gleam of his eyes from where he's under the sink. "Haven't quite figured it out yet.."

You can tell he's having fun with this, and there's a vibration in the air, a palpable chord struck, and you wonder if he feels it too.

"Anything I can do? Feeling kinda helpless over here," you chuckle.

"Just stay out of the way," his voice is more gruff than maybe he intends. Frowning, his eyes focus on an item lodged in the P-trap. He reaches in and pulls out your ring. It's covered in gunk and grime but you recognize it immediately.

"Oh shit! Thank you..." It's your class ring. 'Class of 2003' is engraved on the side, with a princess cut sapphire on top. You put it aside to clean it later.

Joel smirks. "No problem."

"I really owe you one."

"I dunno about that. Just don't go throwin' away your valuable stuff next time, okay?" He's teasing, almost playful.

You laugh "Okay.. hey I'm working at the cafe tomorrow. If you come by I could get you a free coffee." You put the offer out there, testing the waters though you aren't sure why.

"Free coffee? Careful, girl, between giving away free stuff to me and Sarah, you're gonna run Starbucks out of business," he grins. "But yeah, I might have to stop by."

You walk him out, even though Joel says it's not necessary, but you can tell he enjoys your company. "I guess I'll be seeing you around Joel.. Mr. Miller."

He stifles a chuckle. There's a touch of amusement in the way he speaks to you, but he hides it behind a warm, open expression. "Call me Joel. No need to be so formal around me."

"If my mom was here she'd say I was being disrespectful, calling you by your first name." You can't help a little blush.

"I won't complain about respect," he smiles again.

"She's pretty protective of me," you describe your living situation, your freedom that is being given in increments.

"Well your mom might've done you a favor there." Joel looks out past your front porch. "That's probably a wise decision, ya know? What about your dad? He ok with you living far from home?"

You shake your head. "He's not.. really in the picture. My parents divorced about five years ago. My dad went up north, Minnesota I think, and I haven't seen him since.." You feel a little vulnerable revealing this.

Joel's brow furrows and his expression darkens. You wonder if he's thinking about Sarah. You don't know much about her mother and haven't felt okay to ask. "I'm sorry to hear that. Are you all right?"

You shrug. "I guess so. I've managed this long without him.." You give a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. "I shouldn't be bothering you with all this.."

"No problem, I don't mind listenin'. Do me a favor," he says suddenly. "Be careful out there, okay?"

Something about this catches you off guard. "Of course I will."

He smiles. "Good. I'll see you at the cafe tomorrow," he phrases it like a hopeful question.

"Bright and early," you say, feeling a few butterflies in your stomach.

He laughs and nods. "Til then."

You watch him leave and though you cringe at how young, foolish, childish you must appear to him, you can't deny that you feel something, even for a brief moment. Maybe it's nothing. But something about him sticks with you, an odd feeling in your chest. But it's just a dumb, knee-jerk reaction. He has a family, he's twice your age. You're focused on school and your future. Joel Miller is the last person you should be thinking about...

...right?

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 5

[chap four] | [all chapters here] | [chap six]

summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

a/n: I'm very excited for this chapter because it's actually one of the scenes that inspired this whole fic! Before I knew what the hell I even wanted to write, I played this idea of a figure skating character over and over again in my head as I built up the story around it. I'm a little behind on writing the next chap, so it may be a slightly longer wait between this and the next one! Hope you all love it!

wc: 4.8k

taglist: @costellation-hunter @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @em0220 @fromasgardandback @kthomps914 @lotrefcp @marrowfrog00 @mewchiili @munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @rach5ive @sav12321 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @steeldaisies @stormgrl19

Chapter Five

You skated at least four times a week. You’ve done so since you were ten years old, when you decided that you wanted to take figure skating more seriously. Whether or not you had competitions, whether or not you were in the mood for it, you always stuck with your skating routine. With competition season coming up in November, you knew you’d have to start practicing more, putting in longer hours and more days in preparation.

Or maybe not. After all, competing was something that your mom enjoyed, that she encouraged wholeheartedly. Regardless of how much you enjoyed it, it didn’t exactly fit the teenage rebellion thing you had going on right now. Maybe you wouldn’t go to competition this year, maybe you’d skip out on your final season out of pure spite - now that would be cruel. Although a part of you hurt at that idea - because you really did love skating - you reasoned that it was something you had to consider.

Fridays were always very long days for you. While your peers would be set free to roam following the 3pm school bell, you had more obligations for the day. Once you left school, you crammed in as much homework as you could before hitting the ice rink by 4:30 at the latest to get your own practice in. Once that was done, you led a youth skating practice until 7pm, then you tried to squeeze in some more skating time before the hockey team took to the ice at 7:15. After arriving home at 8 o’clock or later, you crammed more homework so you wouldn’t have to deal with it over the weekend, and then by that point you’d be too worn out for anything else, so you generally slept late into the next morning.

This had been your routine for over a year now, ever since your own couch suggested that you needed to get more extracurriculars under your belt for your college applications. She had insisted that your resume would look far more impressive if you showed that you had teaching experience and “leadership potential,” an idea that really appealed to your parents, who were determined for you to get into a good school, maybe even on a figure skating scholarship. So, you ended up taking over the Friday night children’s lessons whether you wanted to or not.

You honestly despised it. You led children age 5 to 7, and they were a constant pain in the ass. You couldn’t raise your voice without one of them crying, you couldn’t leave them to their own devices without someone inevitably ending up hurt. Yet, you stuck with it because you were told to, because the adults around you insisted that you needed to. You couldn’t stand the way your coach would insist that this would help develop your skills, you couldn’t stand how your mother insisted “you’ll look back on this so fondly when you’re older.” These damned kids skating lessons were something else you’d probably drop soon, because you barely tolerated them as is.

While everyone else was at the football game, while Eddie was probably off playing his stupid fantasy game or doing something equally as nerdy, you were here at the ice rink, shouting instructions at children while parents and hockey players watched. Some of the parents had made it clear before that they weren’t fond of your impatient and mean teaching methods, but your coach always seemed to talk them out of pulling their kids from your group. She always argued something about you being the best skating in the county, but you weren’t sure how true that was - sure, you had your fair share of medals, but even with your ego you were pretty sure there were better skaters at your level.

“Come on, slackers, we’ve got five minutes left!” You taunted your group of 11 kids as they skated around the perimeter of the rink as a cool down. You zipped ahead of them, leading the charge as you skated backwards to keep an eye on them.

Many of the older kids had grown used to your abrasive coaching, but you could see that many of the newbies were still frightened of you, your loud voice, and your cold eyes. As a means of excusing your poor teaching style, you always said that skating was a tough sport and they needed to toughen up if they wanted to be any good at it. For how pretty and elegant figure skating could be, you knew from experience that competitive skating could be harsh, so you figured you were helping these kids prepare for it.

Because the Hawkins High hockey team had the rink after your group every Friday, many of them were already sitting on the sidelines, getting their gear ready or watching you work. The cocky part of you enjoyed the attention, but hockey players were stupid, so you rarely gave any of them a chance whenever they tried talking to you. Nonetheless, when you were in a good mood, you enjoyed putting on a bit of a show for them, shooting flirty glances their way or occasionally calling out remarks to them between instructing the kids. Tonight, you were paying them little mind, but that didn’t stop you from looking their way every now and again.

As you led the kids back to the center of the ice to wrap up the lesson, a lot of their parents were also waiting in the bleachers or out in the lobby. While you skated back and forth in front of your little army of children, going over some instructions for their next practice with your coach on Monday, your eyes roamed the bleachers. You gave a wicked grin to the hockey players that watched you, meanwhile you took in the parents with very little regards. It was as you looked over the clusters of parents that you saw a familiar face sitting at the penalty bench, and unintentionally you let your toe pick drag on the ice, which very nearly caused you to trip.

God damn Eddie Munson.

As you glared in his direction, hoping your momentary lack of balance didn’t make you look too stupid, you dismissed the kids before gliding towards the dasher board. Eddie, grinning like an asshole, stood up to meet you as children began to exit the ice. You braced yourself on the rail of the board, eyes narrowed at Eddie who appeared far too amused for your liking.

“What are you doing here?” You ask in lieu of a greeting. Eddie briefly glances over at the kids leaving the ice.

“You’re incredible with children.” He mocked, smiling far too wide for your liking; you narrowed your eyes while wondering just how long he’d been here, “Figured I might find you here.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here, though.” You respond coldly, gaze briefly looking in the direction of the hockey team to find a couple of them watching your interaction. 

“You did say we needed to make plans, figure out how this was going to work,” Eddie started, taking in your red cheeks and slightly damp forehead that developed over the course of your skating lessons.

“I also said we’d talk about it next week.” You glowered a little, not worried if any of the hockey players saw it - maybe they’d simply mistake it for a lovers quarrel. Eddie grinned, holding his arms up as if he were a presenter on some dumb show.

“No time like the present, right?” Your unamused face gave him all the answer he needed, and his expression fell a little in annoyance, “And here I hoped I was being a good fake boyfriend by visiting you at the rink.”

“You’re being too good a fake boyfriend,” You jab.

Now that all the kids were off the ice, you slid towards the open gate; Eddie kept pace with you on the other side of the dasher board, meeting you at the gate and offering you his hand in assistance. You looked between his face and his outstretched hand with a glare, but eventually accepted his help, stepping over the barrier and onto the slightly cushy floor on the other side.

“I told you not tonight because I’m busy.” You walk over to the gym bag you left sitting on the nearest bleachers. As you sat beside it, Eddie shrugged with a carelessness that seemed almost false.

“Then I’ll go.” He answered simply as you removed your skates, “Just thought it might not be a bad idea to get to know you a little better. It’s not gonna be easy to fake date someone who you know nothing about.”

You shot him a harsh look while putting skate guards over your blades. You didn’t want to admit that he was right, but he had a good point, especially since you had already discussed it before. You sighed heavily through your nose, your cold eyes locked on Eddie’s.

“Can’t it wait? I’ve had a long day.”

Eddie studied you for a moment, leaning back against the dasher board before looking around the ice rink. You quickly put some worn sneakers on your feet and stood, picking your bag and turning away with the intention to leave. But Eddie’s gentle grip on your wrist stopped you from going anywhere, causing you to look between his hand and his face. As you two held eye contact, you realized that Eddie could be just as stubborn as you when he wanted; damn, was this going to be difficult.

“Let me buy you dinner - I’m sure you’re starving,” Eddie started, and for a fleeting moment you wondered if he thought your attitude was because you were hangry. You chewed your lower lip, eyes staring critically at Eddie for another few moments before you let out a defeated sigh, allowing your shoulders to relax a little. Considering that it had been nearly eight hours since your lunch break, it might now be a bad idea to eat something.

Eddie’s eyes softened at your silent resignation, the corner of his mouth pulling up. He finally released your wrist, nodding his head in the direction of the lobby, “Come on, you pick.”

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Your pick ended up being a 24-hour diner downtown. Eddie showed clear confusion when you mentioned it, so you explained that - for whatever reason - the diner had become something of a tradition, where students congregated post-Friday night football into the wee hours of the night. You’d joined that crowd a number of times in the past, but had no more interest in it - what you were interested in was having people see you and Eddie out together.

You knew it would still be at least an hour before the football crowd arrived, but that wasn’t such a bad thing - it gave you and Eddie a bit of time to actually become acquainted, to learn more about each other beyond “ice princess” and “the freak.”

You studied Eddie while sipping on a chocolate shake, waiting for your food to arrive. He stared back at you unabashedly, and you figured you could be locked into this staring contest until the end of time given how stubborn you both could be. As if Eddie knew what you were thinking, he smirked, finally caving as he looked away from you.

“Not to sound cliche,” Eddie scratched the back of his neck, almost as if he were nervous, but you assumed that couldn’t be true, “but… tell me about yourself?”

You smiled at how dumb the question was - that was so cliche. It was as good a starting place as any you figured, but that didn’t make it sound any less silly and forced. You leaned back in your seat, still holding tight to your milkshake as if it were a lifeline.

Putting on your best Miss America voice, you replied, “Well, I’m freshly 18 from Hawkins, Indiana. I love long walks on the beach, snuggling up with a good book, and I hope one day we’ll have world peace.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at you, although you could tell he was fighting back a grin, “You’re making this very challenging considering that it was your idea.”

You shrug, taking a big gulp of the chocolate shake, “I guess I’m just a challenging person.”

“You guess?” Eddie laughed mockingly at that, “You’re the most challenging I’ve met. So, how about you try relaxing a little or else no one’s going to buy that we’re together.”

You made a face at the near-insult, finally putting down your drink. You leaned your elbows on the table, taking in Eddie’s face for a moment, stubbornly resisting the urge to say anything. Again, he had a good point, not that you wanted to tell him that. Eddie appeared to have an idea as he mirrored your pose.

“Okay, we’ll go back and forth, a question for a question; how’s that?” You nodded, “Right. First question: Why me?”

Your brows furrowed a little in thought, pinning down a good answer while trying to recall what you’ve already told him, “Haven’t I already explained that?”

“Kind of.” Eddie rolled his hand in a motion that basically said “but go on.”

You bit the inside of your cheek for a moment while thinking, “Your reputation. People don’t know you, but your reputation is in the absolute gutter. No better person to turn to than the guy who everyone in the school already hates.”

Eddie nodded in acceptance of the answer, “Okay, your turn.”

You grinned a little, a question already on your lips, “Why’d you agree to it?”

It was something you’d speculated briefly throughout the week, as you thought that your trade offer might not have been a compelling enough reason for Eddie to agree to this stupid plan. And now you could finally get the answer you were looking for.

Eddie silently stared at you in consideration, and again it almost felt like he was able to read your thoughts somehow. Finally, he answered, “Curiosity.”

You raised a brow in question, to which he once more scratched the back of his neck - maybe that actually was a nervous habit, so you took note of it.

“We both know this idea is kinda crazy,” Eddie started, mulling over his thoughts before continuing, “But I wanted to see how it plays out. See if we can actually trick people into believing it. And I wanted to see if you were as awful as I thought you were.”

You balked instantly, an amused huff escaping your mouth, “‘Awful?’ Jesus, you keep acting like I’m the devil or something.”

Eddie made a face while shrugging, not disagreeing with you, “You thought the same about me. So, let’s call it square.”

Food was finally brought to your table, and you had to resist the urge to attack the greasy burger set in front of you; you didn’t need Eddie to see you act like a ravenous gremlin over some food, even if it had been over eight hours since you’d eaten anything. But you nonetheless dug in, albeit with far more control than your empty, growling stomach would have liked.

“Your turn.” You say around a bite of food, causing Eddie to smile in amusement and the unladylike action.

“Hmm…” He leaned forward, scrutinizing you as he contemplated his next question. Self consciously, you wiped at the corner of your mouth just to make sure there wasn’t any stray ketchup or grease sitting there, “Why ice skating?”

“Because it’s better than cheerleading.” You smiled at your own joke before giving a slightly better answer, “I always thought it was pretty. Nothing else to it, unfortunately; no deep story and significance to it.”

“Fine.” Eddie responded almost as if he was disappointed by the mundane answer.

“Why Dungeons and Dragons?”

“Your questions can’t keep being off-shoots of mine.” Eddie laughed a little, and despite yourself it caused you to smile smally as well.

“Says who?”

“Says me,” He responded while pointing at himself, “I get to come up with some of the rules now, remember?”

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes with a degree of fondness, which you immediately found strange, so you tried to wipe the look from your face. Nope, you weren’t fond of Eddie Munson, not at all.

You went back to your food, hoping Eddie didn’t catch the amused look on your face. You spoke around another bite of food, “Do you have siblings?”

“None that I know of.” He replied around his own mouthful of food, “But I wouldn’t exactly be surprised if there were any out there.”

You cocked your head a little at the response; it wasn’t so much shocking or sad, rather it was unexpected and different from your own life. You made a mental note to learn more about Eddie’s family, if not tonight then at a later point.

“What’s your plan after graduation?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but then paused - what was your plan now that you were trying to make your own decisions? You hadn’t even considered it. Did you still want to go to college? Where? Studying what? You suddenly realized that you had no true plan for yourself, only the one outlined by your parents, and that realization made you nervous.

“Honest answer: not a fucking clue.” Eddie looked taken aback by the response, so you continued, “My plan before was getting into a good school on a skating scholarship, and studying something completely irrelevant. My parents expect my skating to carry me through life until some good, rich man sweeps me off my feet.”

“But that’s not your plan anymore?”

“That’s another question.” You give him a teasing grin, causing Eddie to roll his eyes, “First, answer me this: If you weren’t stuck in Hawkins, where would you go?”

Eddie grinned with an unexpected eagerness, “LA. The music scene there is insane, and I’d happily sleep on the streets if it meant I had a shot at making my own music.”

Your eyes softened ever so slightly at the unexpected, genuine response - admittedly, you didn’t peg Eddie as the type to have any real goals. But music? That was interesting to you since you weren’t even aware that he played any instruments. You wondered if he was actually any good at it, or if it was some foolish aspiration.

“Now, what’s your plan?” Eddie repeated, smirking at the look on your face - this was one of the few times you didn’t look like a total bitch, so he appreciated it. In fact, you looked relaxed and, dare he say, content; that was certainly unexpected from you.

When you shrugged, he shook his head, leaning forward again, “No, you come up with a plan right now. Don’t base it off what your parents want or what you think sounds like the right answer. What do you want to do with your life once we’re done with this shit hole?”

You contemplated, a mild concern washing over you as you stared at Eddie - what the hell did you want? And why did you suddenly feel so vulnerable because of the question. You had to rip your gaze away from Eddie’s, hardening your expression as you tried to think up an answer that felt right.

“I… I like art, I love clothes,” You started dumbly, glancing at Eddie through your lashes, expecting him to make a face at the lame answer, “I don’t know shit about them in a technical way, but it might be fun for college. Take painting or sewing classes during the day, skate until my feet hurt at night, maybe… I want to be somewhere big and interesting. New York, LA… fuck, even Florida for all I care, I just want out of Hawkins, out of this town.”

“Then I guess we’ll be those high school sweethearts that run off to LA together after graduation, huh?” Eddie smiled widely, and you allowed an amused look to cross your face.

“Oh, I’m sure.” You returned to your food as you tried to come up with a good question for Eddie. An intriguing one came to you, so you asked before you could second guess it, “How do you expect your fake girlfriend to act?”

Eddie’s brow furrowed; it didn’t appear to be due to him misunderstanding the question, but rather that it was unexpected; he even looked maybe hesitant to answer it. Again, he scratched his neck.

You lean forward a little, looking at him seriously, “Give me a good answer, okay? We’re just gonna keep going in circles otherwise.”

Eddie shrugged, “Maybe I don’t have any expectations.”

“Then come up with some.” You immediately counter, prodding the same way he had about your plans for the future. Eddie stared at you with scrutiny while chewing the inside of his lip, as if he didn’t want to come up with a response to the question. You waited, making a mock sweet face at him while you chowed down on your fries. You were going to demand an answer until he gave you one.

“Well, going off the rules you already established,” He made a bit of a face as if to mock the oh-so-sacred fake dating rules, “Aside from playing nice in front of others, it might be helpful if you were less stubborn; you’re like a damn bull.”

You gave him a joshing smile right back, “Fair. Is that it?”

Eddie quickly shook his finger; now it was just a back-and-forth game of you mocking one another, “Ah, that’s another question.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You rolled your eyes with a short laugh, “That is not another question.”

Eddie gave a fake look of apology, shrugging again, “Unfortunately, it is.”

You threw a french fry at him, which lamely hit his chest then landed in his lap. As he laughed and picked it up, you found yourself smiling fondly again, and you quickly tried to shake off the expression.

At that moment, the bell above the front door chimed, and immediately the diner was filled with rambunctious conversation. Your heart jumped a little, realizing the time, and you briefly glanced in the direction of the door; the group that had entered wasn’t your friends, although you recognized them. You turned your attention back to Eddie, who gave you another grin.

“Showtime.” He stated simply, and then a thought appeared to cross his mind, “You want another expectation? Tell me if anything I do is too much, but otherwise let me do what I do - you don’t need to be in control all the time.”

“Don’t I, though?” You countered haughtily, which was met by a flash of seriousness across Eddie’s eyes.

“No, you don’t. I know what I’m doing, okay?”

You studied him for a moment, not entirely convinced that he did, in fact, know what he was doing. Considering that you’d never seen him even interact with a girl before, you weren’t sure if he knew the first thing about dating or romance. But despite your doubts, you relented, relaxing your shoulders as if to show you were relinquishing some control.

“Fine,” You rolled your eyes nonetheless, forever obstinate as you mocked, “I’ll tell you if I don’t like something, but otherwise I’ll let you do what you do.”

“Was that so hard?” Eddie replied with a condescending smirk. You sneered before relaxing your face, knowing your friends were bound to appear any minute now.

As you stole another glance at the door, you suddenly felt Eddie’s fingers graze the back of your hand, drawing your attention back to him with a confused little knot between your brows. He held your gaze as if to make a point, as if to remind you of the conversation you just had, that he knew what he was doing. His hand simply sat on top of yours, your fingers ever so slightly lacing together - he raised his brows as if to dare you to pull away from him. You had to resist the urge to narrow your eyes at him and snatch your hand away, and in turn Eddie gave you a cocky grin before continuing to eat with his free hand.

Eventually, your friends appeared, although they didn’t notice you at first. They were all so full of energy as they excitedly spoke to each other, descending upon a few tables in the middle of the diner and pushing them together. The staff were used to it, although you knew from experience that they nonetheless hated it; you guys were always disruptive to the other patrons, and you figured that was never going to change.

You tried your best not to stare, but your eyes kept trailing over, kept studying the excited faces of the people you considered friends only a couple of weeks ago. After your eyes had drifted over for the umpteenth time, you felt Eddie lightly squeeze your fingers, causing you to unintentionally sneer at how strange it was to maintain this physical contact with him.

“Stop staring,” He instructed when you looked back at him.

With a quarrelsome look in your eyes, you did as Eddie told you, returning your attention to the half eaten burger on your plate, “Talk to me about something, then.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t care, just talk so I can pretend to be interested.”

Eddie looked mildly put off by that, and you realized that you’d taken your customary mean tone with him. You couldn’t seem to help yourself with your former cohorts nearby, it was as if their energy was rubbing off on you.

“You know what I’m going to talk about,” Eddie taunted with a wide grin.

Your face fell in realization, “Please not Dungeons and Dragons.”

“I’m gonna do it.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“So, there’s this character, Kas, who has really interesting lore--”

You threw another fry at Eddie, and at that same moment, you felt someone come up alongside your table. You both look up to see Amelia there with a critical look on her face; your gaze drifts past her, noticing that a few people from her table were also looking at you and Eddie.

You met Amelia’s eyes again, giving her a wide, false smile, “Small world.”

Her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms, “Yeah, I’m sure you just completely forgot we always come here after games.”

“Maybe she just wanted to see her dear friends.” Eddie chimed in mockingly, once again surprising you with his willingness to instigate confrontation. You laughed as a dumbfounded look crossed Amelia’s at his remark.

“I don’t know what the hell she sees in you.” Amelia snarked with a glare before turning her gaze back to you, “And I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, but it’s already getting pretty old.”

You shrug with exaggerated nonchalance, “Sometimes a girl just needs a bit of a change every now and then, you know?”

Amelia didn’t look convinced as she rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh, “Yeah, well, this ‘change’ doesn’t suit you at all.”

Before you could respond with another quip, Amelia spun on her heel and briskly returned to her table. By that point, everyone there was watching and awaiting Amelia’s return, quickly huddling together to whisper conspiratorially once she sat down.

You and Eddie shared an amused glance; he went back to poking at his food as your gaze trailed back to Amelia and company. You happened to lock eyes with Duncan, who stared at you with harsh scrutiny, as if he wasn’t buying this thing between you and Eddie in the slightest. You gave Duncan a mocking while, starting to wave before flipping him off, causing Eddie to snort and choke on his food. You couldn’t help but laugh out loud as he hit his chest a couple of times, trying to clear his throat. The sound of such a genuine laugh escaping you was absolutely foreign to Eddie, but he decided it was a sound he enjoyed, even if it was at his expense; he made a mental note that he had to find ways to make you laugh more that didn’t involve him choking.

“You could’ve killed me.” Eddie croaked before laughing himself, his smile wide.

“You’re fine.” You teased, squeezing his fingers while giving him a false pout of sympathy, “You big baby.”

Eddie rolled his eyes in amusement, digging his wallet out while finally relinquishing the grip he had on your hand, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

He tossed money onto the table and stood, offering his hand to you again. You quickly snagged one last fry before accepting Eddie’s hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. He once again laced his fingers with yours as he led you through the crowded diner, and you had to fight back the desire to cringe in confusion at it. The both of you eyed the crowd of Hawkins High’s elite as they watched you back critically.

Once outside the diner, Eddie paused in front of one of the large windows and pulled a ridiculous face at the kids still watching you; he quickly tugged your arm, leading you back towards the van as you laughed again at his antics.