#red flare district

[glassesfreekjr]

... Why did they build a whole-ass flood bypass out in the Splatlands, anyway? Is it like California rules where it's arid as hell most of the time except for when everyone drowns, or has the flash flooding caused by Big Runs been more of a long-running issue then we initially thought?

The fan splatband Red Flare District is named in reference to the 190-chapter juggernaut "exercises in gratitude (The Barclay Street Flood)" by @redeyedsheepskull over on AO3. Contrary to what Inkopolis news media would have you believe, the Order vs. Chaos Splatfest was only partly the reason for the mass cultural exodus to the Splatlands. Maybe it had something to do with the fallout after a catastrophic spillway failure submerged a low-class Inkopolis neighborhood in millions of tons of polluted floodwater, I dunno.

RFD changed its name (from RLD) partly to capitalize on the event and partly out of genuine albeit ham-handed tribute.

And here, out in the middle of the desert, is yet another failed flood bypass. The ironic hilarity was too good for them to not write a song about. Fast-forward five years and some still consider the end product to be a tad insensitive.

(sample source list can be found on my YouTube)

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

hii!! could i request a snow fic where she finds out she cheats on him and voluntarily tributes and hes trying to get her back? i loved the other fics!! I NEED MORE CHEATING SNOW FICS OMGG

Don’t blame me, love made me crazy. || Young President!Coriolanus snow x district!reader

A/n: Sorry anon I hope you’re not disappointed that I didn't fully write your request. I wanted Coryo to lowk suffer in this which is why I didn't dive into details of him getting her back. There is also one scene that is heavily inspired by a scene in the movie Priscilla! I also spent so many hours perfecting this and it was super fun!!!

Warnings: fem!reader, implied infidelity, toxic!coriolanus, manipulation, not proofread, if there's anything else pls lmk!

Wc: 1609

Divider by @firefly-graphics

The rapid clicks echoed throughout the hallway, the sound reverberating off the 12-foot-high ceiling walls. You walk with an eager stride, each step filled with anticipation as you take the familiar route to Coriolanus' office where he spent most, if not, all of his time cooped up in due to the upcoming hunger games.

There was a heaviness in your heart. You have always been the epitome of grace and composure, a woman who played her role in the political theater with finesse, albeit your brief upbringing in district 2. However, behind closed doors, the truth unfolded, resulting in you heartbroken and most of all betrayed. You couldn't ignore the letters that would pile up weekly, the gifts, all for him, from someone by the name Lysandra.

Not bothering to knock, knowing it would provoke a reaction from him, you forcefully swung the double doors open. There sat Coriolanus Snow, seemingly unbothered at your entrance. "Is there a problem?" An icy, impersonal tone carried his words, sharp and emotionless.

Your nose flared as you felt a surge of frustration, his lack of concern and emotion fuelling your anger. Besides, you had never stormed into his office unannounced before. Surely, he would question your sudden abruptness and, visibly, your anger.

Your voice, though filled with a trembling resolve, posed the question, "Who is she?" You hold a letter between your fingers, lifting it up to show him. He lifts his head up from his papers. "And why on earth is she sending my husband gifts and-and love letters?" You stammer, throwing the piece of paper with writing and a kiss—in the form of a lipstick mark in a shade of deep red—on his desk; your façade crumbling at your feet.

Snow stares at you before a scoff leaves his lips, leaning back on his chair. "You know how the people admire me, it's likely that whoever it is, she's simply passionate about expressing her feelings to me," Coriolanus shrugs. Your eye twitches at his response. Lies.

"Really? Well, Lysandra is ever so passionate about expressing her undying love for you," You recite the words from her letter as you watch a subtle glint of knowing in his eyes, "She's the only one who has described her so-called affection for you so intimately!"

As you question your husband's loyalty, an unsettling quiet settles around him. His eyes, cold and calculating, hold yours without a trace of vulnerability. The absence of words from his lips becomes a formidable response, leaving an ominous uncertainty lingering in the air.

His office echoed with a tense hush, broken only by a subtle tapping of his fingers against the armrest in a rhythmic patter. "For god's sake, Coryo. Say something! Who is she?" The slip of his nickname makes you swallow.

"I won't entertain your accusation. She's merely an admirer, nothing more! Have you finished exhausting yourself with this matter, wife?" Coriolanus seethes, abruptly standing up as he gathers his papers, opens his drawer, shoves them in, and slams it shut with such force that you swore you felt it in your bones.

"Is there something your hiding from me?" There was a tense silence that followed your question, Snow's features contorted with a mix of frustration and defiance. Avoiding eye contact, he clenched his jaw and emitted a sharp exhale. The air was thick with unspoke tension, revealing an anger that simmered beneath the surface.

"I have nothing to hide from you," He says calmly but you knew damn well there was anything but calmness within him. Annoyed and frustrated at the lack of information, you open your mouth again.

'"Throughout our entire marriage, I have done nothing but showed you how grateful I am that you chose me to marry, a district girl. You helped me build a reputation here in the capitol so that I would finally be respected, and now, I ask just one simple thing of you," As you speak your voice wavers slightly, revealing the depth of emotion behind your words. "Who is she to you?"

In mere seconds, Coriolanus storms past you, a blur of motion, leaving you momentarily bewildered as you blink, only to find yourself in the same spot. "Coriolanus!" You yell, spinning around as you follow him. "I've just had about enough of you for today y/n," He spat as he briskly walked up stairs, you following him. Servants who were around hurriedly walk pass, heads down.

He steps into your shared private chamber, adorned with decadent furnishings and overlooking the Capitol. He walks a couple steps before he just stops. His breath came in heavy, rhythmic waves, his chest rising and falling with urgency, leaving you standing frozen at the entrance.

"You know, I think you should go see your family for a little while," He turns around as you felt your heart drop. "What?" Your voice echoed with a helpless tone. "You heard me, I think your family has been missing you in the districts, go pay them a visit. Tell them how grateful you have been that I chose you as the First Lady of Panem, hm?"

He takes purposeful strides to the next room, filled from top to bottom with expensive, lavish pieces of clothing befitting both him and you. Coriolanus then pulls out a travelling trunk. The thought of you going back to district 2 sent shivers up your spine. You knew that everyone there now thinks of you as a traitor.

"What- No- Coryo, I'm not going-" Coriolanus cuts you off with a yell, tears forming in your eyes, "I think you should! Matter of fact, I'll help you start packing." A loud noise comes from the trunk making contact with the floor making you jump, a sob leaving your lips. The trunk opening as he starts aggressively pulling your clothes from the black velvety hangers, tossing them into the trunk.

"Coryo- please. Don't make me go back there," You fall to you knees in front of the trunk as your shaky hands remove the pieces of clothing from it. "Yeah, well I think a few months in the districts, away from your lavish life here, will make you realise how easy it is that I can send you back there." He forcefully takes your chin in between his thumb and index as your glassy eyes stare back at his icy, raging, blue eyes.

"Please, please don't send me back there-" Your beg becomes interrupted as he drops his grip on you and yells out the door, "Simon! Get the train ready now for Y/n to go back home!" He calls out to his assistant who answers out a "Of course Mr. President," You let out another sob as you rest your head on the pile of clothing.

Coriolanus glances over his shoulder, his breaths lingering in the air, he could hear your quiet pleas. There's a yearning within him, a desire to approach you and envelop you in a reassuring hug, to tell your that everything is alright and that forgives you. Yet, and unyielding pride restrains him, holding him back from acknowledging that what he was doing was wrong.

With one final look, he turns around, leaving you in a crying mess. Coriolanus was going to send you back to district 2 until the hunger games finished, then, he would come get you and hope that your time there made you ponder your actions, although he knew they were quite reasonable.

Your allegiance to your husband shattered when you were forced onto the train, Coriolanus stood a couple metres away from you as you squirm in the peacekeeper's grips. As you made your way back to a place you once called home, a quiet determination settled within you as you hatched a plan that would not only expose Coriolanus' betrayal, but also allow you to reclaim a piece of your shattered identity.

~

As the Reaping day approached, you made a choice that sent shockwaves through the carefully orchestrated world of Panem. With a steady hand, you inscribed your own name on a slip of paper and placed it in the glass ball, committing yourself to the Hunger Games.

On the day of the Reaping, the Capitol Square buzzed with anticipation, the districts, not so much. Coriolanus, very much unaware of his wife's hidden actions, stood in front of the dignitaries on the stage.

The customary ceremony began, the escort pulls a slip pf paper from the glass ball, announcing the male tribute who would face the Capitol's twisted version of justice.

As the tension mounted, the escort unfolded a slip of paper and read aloud, "Y/n Snow." A gasp rippled through the crowd, and Coriolanus's face contorted with disbelief. Time seemed to free as he processed the shock of seeing his wife's name called out. Surely there was a mistake.

The realisation hit him like a sledgehammer, and anger boiled within him, mixing with the shock and confusion as the crowd erupted in whispers. A woman of Capitol elegance was now standing among the district 2 residents.

You weave through the rows of people, maintaining a stoic expression. As you step up on the stage, your eyes land on the camera a couple feet away from you where you know Snow was watching back in the Capitol.

Coriolanus stared at your face and in that moment, he saw the resolve and defiance that had replaced the hurt in your eyes. The Capitol, known for its love of spectacle, witnessed an unprecedented turn of events. Coriolanus Snow, the powerful President, was rendered speechless as his own actions came back to haunt him in the cruelest twist of fate.

[bruisedboys]

jealous finnick?

jealous finnick will be the death of me!!!!!!

finnick odair x fem!reader

Breakfast in District 13 is an unusual affair. Nothing like you’re used to, being from District 4. It’s the same every morning — boring grey oatmeal with either honey or berries, depending on the day. It’s only as you take your seat next to Finnick that you realise you’ve forgotten the very crucial toppings.

“Oh no, I forgot to get berries,” you bemoan. They’re definitely all gone by now, seeing as they’re in popular demand — the oatmeal served in 13 tastes like cardboard without them.

“Here, have mine,” Gale says from across the table. You open your mouth to protest but he’s already spooning a big heap of berries into your bowl. They bleed red and purple into your otherwise plain oatmeal. “I don’t like ‘em, anyway. Too sour.”

“Oh.” You smile at him, flattered. Gale’s been nothing but kind to you since you arrived in District 13. You haven’t put it down to anything other than friendliness. Though it’s possible you’re too enamoured with the blonde next to you that you’re completely oblivious to other men’s advances. “Thanks, Gale.”

Gales smiles back and shrugs. “No problem, Y/N.”

Next to you and unbeknownst to you, Finnick scowls. He hates that Gale’s so nice to you. Loathes it. He knows it’s because you’re a ray of sunshine who draws even the coldest of people in (believe him, he’s experienced it), but the fact that Gale gave you his berries before Finnick could even offer his makes his blood boil. 

Who does he think he is? Everyone knows you’re Finnick’s girl, he’s made it very clear. It’s the whole reason you’re here, after all — Finnick specifically requested you be picked up from home before the Quarter Quell ended, to prevent anything from happening to you.

Breakfast passes without further incident. If you notice Finnick’s sour mood, you don’t mention it. You’re leaving the canteen with everyone else when Finnick grabs your waist and pulls you to the side, into an empty hallway. He peers over your shoulder to make sure Gale’s good and gone, watching the back of his head with a glare that could kill, before turning his attention to you.

“Finnick,” you say, clearly confused at his sudden manhandling. “What’s the matter with you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Finnick says shortly.

“You look mad.”

“I’m not.”

You squint at him. “You’re definitely mad. Why are you—?”

Finnick forgoes restraint and yanks you forward, pressing his mouth to yours before you can say anything else. His chest burns with molten hot jealousy, it climbs up his throat and pours into the kiss, hot and sticky. The heat ebbs though, when you kiss him back just as fervently, replaced by a fuzzy warmth only you can make him feel. It buzzes in his chest and down his arms, flares out his palm as he takes your face into one hot hand.

He pulls back just as suddenly as he’d drawn in. “You know Gale’s flirting with you, right?” He says abruptly, thumb pressed to your cheekbone.

You blink up at him, still dazed from his kissing. “What?” You ask, half laughing. “No, he’s not.”

“He is. He gave you his berries. I was going to give you mine.”

You raise both eyebrows. “He was just being nice to me.”

“Yeah, well, that’s my job.”

Finnick supposes he sounds quite pathetic. He doesn’t really care, not when your eyes go all gooey and you reach up on your tiptoes to push a curl from his forehead.

“Are you jealous?” You ask him softly, tucking his hair behind his ear. Your breath fans over his mouth and your hand lingers at his throat. “You sound jealous.”

Finnick rolls his eyes. “So what if I am? Just— have mine next time, okay?”

You smile at him, pretty as starlight. “Okay. But you don’t have to be jealous, you know? I only want you.”

Woah, Finnick thinks. “I know,” he says, too quick, his voice a notch too high.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Do you though?” You ask, definitely teasing now. He supposes he got off lucky, you could’ve done much worse finding out he’s so sickeningly jealous over Gale, of all people.

Still, Finnick narrows his eyes at you. “Alright, that’s enough.”

Your answering giggle is smothered as Finnick swoops in to kiss you again.

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if u enjoyed 🤍

[ggsbooks123]

Memory Garden

peeta mellark x female mc (Jude Slone)

summary; you made haymitch promise, if it came down to you or Peeta that he’d save Peeta. And he did. But now you’re back from the Capitol with one thing certain, Peeta Mellark is the one true enemy.

warnings: angst angst angst, mean thoughts ab peeta beloved and honestly just a lot of writing i didn’t need to do

———

Peeta did this.

The mantra floated through my head, as I yanked on the restraint again.

He’s the reason everyone you love is against you.

Another yank.

He blew up District 12

“Jude, feeling hungry yet?” Haymitch’s voice breaks the static but the mantra just quietens but doesn’t stop. My hand drops the bind.

“What do you have?” It was a better response than i’d given lately. What if Peeta tried to kill me and poisoned my portion… I couldn’t risk it. “No, I don’t want it”

He sighs, still coming towards me with the tray “I promise you, Peeta doesn’t want you dead. You know that, think”

I scowled, “I know what I saw. I know what he did. He’s a monster, Haymitch. Don’t make me, I dont want his filthy blood on my hands” He scoffed, dropping the tray onto the table next to me.

“Let’s hope lover boy comes and feeds you bevause I’m not putting up with this” And with that he leaves the room.

I glanced at the tray, tomato soup with toast coated in possibly cheese, but it’s not the delicious toast that catches my eye, the soup, it’s not red. They’ve added ingredients to make it appear more orange… Not bright orange.

A sunset.

“I still remember that Christmas he brought me that green sweater. Green doesn’t suit me” I say, the air was brisk and I hated walking in the Winter but I couldn’t turn Peeta down when he came to my door.

“I refuse to believe you look bad in anything” I scoff, glad it’s cold knowing he might take that as thhe reason my cheeks are now red. “What is your favourite colour?”

I raise my eyebrow at him “I’m sure there are better things to talk about then my favourite colour”

He watches me as we walk for a moment “I don’t see anything more important” It makes me slow to a stop, “Tell me, please. I want to know”

I look to him, his kind blue eyes and blond hair that looks incredibly soft without all those products they use during interviews, he looks beautiful.

“It used to be red but I think i’m leaning towards purple” I shrug, “It’s only fair that i’ve revealed that secret you tell me yours”

He smiles before looking up at the sun, it’s setting letting the streaks of orange paint the sky “Orange, right there. It’s the second most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen” I glance at him unsure as to why he’d say second until I see the look in his eyes.

My head snaps at the memory, cruel and unforgiving. That’s what Peeta was, and he would hurt me so I had to kill him before he tried first.

His face twists in the memory as I replay it over and over again, he doesn’t look like himself, Hatred flared in a moment that was full of pure adoration. I see it now like i’m looking through a camera at the two of us.

He looks like he loves me… Then his eyes lose their spark like a snap and he’s spitting awful words at me, one’s ill never forget.

I’ll never forget he’s the reason i’m like this.

—

The food goes cold and I go another day without eating and under sedation after I nearly come out of binding when they try to insert the needle into my arm to get food into my body.

I awake in an empty room but there’s a buzz in the air, I look to the mirror across from me. I look better than I did the first time I looked inside, I’d look better if I ate proper food but I can’t, he wants me dead and he won’t fail again.

The door hisses open bringing my attention away from my strangely hair, Katniss stands at the door, tears in her eyes.

“You need to eat something” She whispers but the room is so quiet i’m not surprised if she can hear my blaring thoughts or the alarm going off in my head.

“Get out” I spit, turning away from her. Katniss was close to Peeta, never too close for respect of me which I hated now, she should have stopped whatever was forming between the two of us. Now it’s this. “I don’t want to see you.”

“It’s been months, I thought-“ She tries to speak but she stops when my head snaps to her aswell, her eyes are searching my face. I still look awful, I know that and it seems she still hasn’t come to terms with what I had gone through. Why don’t they see it’s his fault? Always.

“He’s the reason this happened to me, Katniss. And you’re still going to side with him. If you don’t kill him then he’ll kill me Katniss, Don’t you see!” I scream, her back hits the door and it hisses open and my heart stops.

There, he is. He’s not expecting the door to open, the surprise on his face is evident as those blue eyes bore into mine and I steel myself preparing for the hatred, his attempts to end my life.

But neither happen, he watches me with nothing but sadness and his hands are empty, just slack at his sides as he takes a step forward and I’m frozen, It’s not making sense.

He keeps coming closer and my heart is beating out my chest. Run! He’s going to kill you! My head screams but he doesn’t look like he will kill me, he looks like he wants to be next to me and holding me through this, possibly the one feeding me the tomato soup like Haymitch suggested.

“Jude… Please, I’d never-“ He seems to choke on his words as a tear slips down his cheek “Come back to me” Come back and trust me so I can kill you, I hear instead. The words make me flinch, the movement is so large the whole bed moves with me, screeching.

He backs away, the door hisses open again but he doesn’t move to get out “You’re just here to kill me!” I cried, wishing him out of the room.

Get out. Get out. Get out!!!

I must’ve screamed the last time because he’s gone and finally the screaming in my head stops and I fall to the bed, the thought of food or anything fades, only the want to be far from him stays.

—

I am Jude Slone, I won the 73rd hunger games, i’m from District Twelve and Peeta Mellark does not want me dead.

I repeat in my head over and over again, as the truck rolls over cracks and bumps, my body jumps at each bit of debris we hit and I hit the metal seat hard each time but the pain is real. Which is hard to say about a lot lately.

Peeta Mellark wants doesn’t want you dead.

I shake my head, thst one was the hardest to remember and at times, it was no where reachable and all that would sustain me in that moment would be his blood on my hands.

Finally the truck pulled to a stop, I straightened my shoulders. I’d been taken by the Capital and my memories have been distorted, my first thought may not always be the right one.

With that final word of encouragement I let the anxiety slip from me as the back door opens and I’m led out. The sun blinds me for a moment, I’d only seen it for a moment when they made me leave base but only to be stuffed back in the van.

Now I could see the destruction. His fault. No, no, no. I took a deep breath, before turning to seeing the loving welcome party at the front of what seemed to be an abandoned building.

Katniss with her bow, Gale with his crossbow and the five members of their squad had their guns trained on me, including Peeta. My heart hammered but I kept upright as I took the empty gun from the guard before waltzing my way towards the group.

I am Jude Slone, I won the 73rd Hunger Games, I am from Distrisct 12 and None of these people want me dead.

“What is she doing here?” Katniss is the first to speak and though her eyes are trained on me, i know she doesn’t want me to answer.

“Coin wants her to be shown on screen, the victors fighting on the same side” A dark man, who screamed military spoke and he was the only one besides Finnick who hadn’t raised their gun at me. “I don’t like the gun”

“Cant have me fighting with my bare hands on screen” I mutter, before shaking the weapon “It’s empty”

The tension seemed to ease slightly in the group but while half of them had lowered their weapons, Peeta, Katniss and Gale hadn’t. I had to remember what I’d been like this past month, I wouldn’t trust me either.

“I don’t like this” Peeta. His words cut deep and I deflate at them before the military man waves everyone to come inside, not before a solider by the name of Jackson, she told me, quietly instructed me that i’d be restrained for their safety.

“I understand, but I’m not a child”

“No just someone who went through a lot of shit” Finnick says behind Jackson, and my eyes dart up. I didn’t know where my mind stood with Finnick, I didn’t feel like killing him but I hadn’t felt like killing Peeta a moment ago but we all knew it would come.

It was why I was being restrained in the first place. I nod at his words, unsure of how to respond before they lead me inside. The wall along the door was made of glass and I watched as the van that stopped me off, vanished in the distance.

I was stuck here and I didn’t know if I would ever leave this ruin of a city. I kept my distance from the group as they moved into the centre and I took a seat beside the window.

“We’ll have to set up an around the clock guard on her, we can take shifts” Military man said, turning to look at me. “I’ll take the first shift, Names Boggs.”

I preferred Military man but I nodded all the same, “I want a shift” Peeta’s voice is small compared to Boggs but it silences the room all the same.

“Not happening” Jackson speaks up this time, confusing me on who’s in command.

“I can do it!” Peeta argued back, standing from his seat “It’s not her… The Capital killed her and whoever they sent back to us, i’ll be happy to put a bullet in its head” I flinched, turning my eyes down to my hands. Clenching them, was I dead? The girl I was? I shake my head, I am Jude Slone and I did not die in the Capital. They broke me but I am not unfixable. I am broken not unfixable.

I am unfixable.

“I’m not sure seeing as a mutt helps” Jackson declares but Boggs cuts her off

“Give him a shift, Katniss too.” There was no room for argument as Jackson nodded and began to schedule the guard clock. I wanted to be more helpful, tell them that maybe they could go an hour and they could all rest, but I didn’t even trust myself to do that.

Instead I kept silent, letting the rest of them discuss our plan while I watched the day pass by through the glass. “How’re you feeling?” Finnick’s voice from beside me makes me jump. I turn to him and he looks almost glowing, I’d heard something about him and Annie.

I knew I would feel happy for him if I didn’t feel so disconnected. Finnicks memories that came to mind now only brought warmth, nothing haunting. Which was relieving, he was a breath of fresh air.

“Away, I feel like everything’s happening and I’m not really here” I try to explain and he seems to understand. “I don’t want to be a problem, I don’t know why they sent me here… I’m not ready.”

He frowns, “I think you’re where you need to be, normally whenver Annie gets confused she asks me, and I promise you, you’ll find nothing but the truth here” I glance over to the group who had begun to seperate and close their eyes.

It must be Finnicks shift. The thought made this whole encounter turn cold but still, I took in his words as my eyes trained on the baker boy. “Peeta was the reason this happened to me… Real?”

He shakes his head, “You made Haymitch swear if it came down to the two of you that he’d get Peeta to safety” Finnick explained but my mind screamed at me that he was lying. Why would I ask that? Peeta and I didn’t get along, no, we did and we’d almost- I didn’t know what we almost did or if he hated me or loved me and it made me want to rip my hair out as my thoughts banged against my head.

He was not the reason you went to the Capital, you chose this. You didn’t want him to go through this… That felt right, staring at him now, I would never wish upon him those nights in the Capital.

“I know it must be hard. Annie went through a lot but they know that the Capital never left you alone, you were their main priority.” Finnick places a hand on my shoulder, bringing my fully to the present for what felt like the first time. “None of us blame you at all for what happened.

I forgot how long it’s been since someone had been gentle with me. Skin to skin, human contact. My body released its pressure, relaxing in my seat. “Thank you, Finnick”

He smiled before sitting up straighter, and we together sat in silence watching the night sky slowly fall upon us as the rest that were awake finally knocked off

“Get some rest” Finnick muttered to me softly, tapping my leg as he got up. I could see his eyes dropping a while ago but he still stayed and it relieved me that he was finally putting himself first.

I nodded, I would not be sleeping tonight. Each time I closed my eyes another memory would wash over me, I’ve started to get better at knowing if it’s real or not without verification.

Like the one of Peeta and Is confession of our favourite colours, it was easier to picture him smiling at me now instead of anger and whenever it did dissolve to the image it was almost too perfect, his freckles gone and the scar he got from the 75th games vanished, as did the dark circles under my eyes and the few strands out of place were perfectly flat. Too perfect.

I watched Finnick rouse Peeta and point over to me. Of course, I could only get so lucky. I heard someone clear their throat before they took a seat across from me. I didn’t look up. I didn’t know where my mind would jump to.

And he seemed to take the message, he didn’t try to speak to me either. She asks me. I promise you’ll find nothing but truth here.

Finnick was right, I couldn’t close myself off and hope I’d be able to fix myself. If it was that easy, I’d be normal again. “Finnick told me that whenever i’m having trouble differentiating real from not real I should just ask…”

I glanced up at him, in the darkness it was hard to make out his uniform but his blonde hair and pale skin were easy to spot and it made my body tingle as I registered just how close he was and I didn’t feel like wringing my hands around his neck. Relief.

“Shoot away” I raised an eyebrow “Not literally” I smiled softly at that before cycling through my head and I settled back into his favourite colour. What if I asked and his favourite was blue or something? Sunset orange was just another lie they filled into my head. Ask.

“Your favourite colour. It’s sunset orange, real? Not real?” I clench my fists, please. please.

“Real… Yours used to be red but after the hunger games you couldn’t stand it” He explained, and he was right. I used to tie a red bow into my hair everyday until my reaping now the colour reminded me of the slaughter in the 73rd Hunger games.

“But you said you were beginning to like purple… I remember that day, I told you the sunset was the second most beautiful thing i’d ever seen… And the first was right in front of me” I stiffened, though the confession didn’t shock me, looking back I could’ve seen it if I looked hard enough in the moment “And it’s killing me, bevause you’re right in front of me again but you’re like the stars I can’t reach. I… Can adore you from afar but that’s all I can do. And it feels really, really shitty, knowing we might never get through this”

He stands abruptly from his seat “I can’t do this” And he storms out, but I’m clenching my fists too tight to stop, swearing at every god to let this memory stay and not be corrupted by fear. I can adore you from afar but that’s all I can do because if I came closer you’d kill me. Was the truth.

— — —

do we want a part two?!?

part two out now!

[otomehoneyybearr]

Kagari Amagase

Be My Lover, Be My Beast

Ch1 | Ch2 | Sweet | Premium | Epilogue| Bonus

Warning: Mention of death

(I never expected this moment to come so soon.)

As I looked out the window of the swaying carriage,

The reflection I saw wasn’t the same person who had been happily munching on dorayaki a few hours ago.

My hair was beautifully arranged with a cherry blossom hairpin, and the petals dangling from it added a touch of delicate and ephemeral look.

When I lowered my gaze, I saw the vibrant kimono I was wearing, with its cream-colored fabric adorned with snowflakes and small flowers, its skirt flaring out like a dress.

(I’m happy to wear this kimono, but how did it come to this? No, more importantly...)

●●●●●● Flashback ●●●●●●

Kagari: "Please be my lover"

●●●●●● Flashback End ●●●●●●

(What did he mean by that...?)

Seeking answers, I looked at Prince Kagari, who was seated across from me.

Kagari: "What’s the matter? You seem restless."

Emma: "Prince Kagari, isn’t there something you need to tell to me?"

Kagari: "You look adorable. The kimono suits you."

Emma: "R-Really? Thank you— Wait, that’s not what I meant."

Kagari: "I know. Don’t worry, I didn’t mean it literally when I asked you to be my lover."

Emma: "So, what did you mean...?"

Kagari: "....."

A sudden silence fell, and Prince Kagari glanced at the sword beside him, letting out a small sigh.

Kagari: "There’s someone I need to convince that I have a lover, no matter what."

Kagari: "That’s why I want you to pretend to be my lover at the place we’re going to."

Kagari: "I considered paying a woman from the entertainment district, but it would be too obvious a lie or mistaken as a casual affair."

Kagari: "So will you help me? My kind-hearted Princess?"

Emma: "Calling me that doesn’t really help your case, you know?"

(I see. So that’s why I was made to change into this outfit... to look like his lover.)

(This is the first time Prince Kagari has asked me for something so seriously.)

(Whoever this person is must be very important to him.)

Prince Kagari has helped me in many situations.

Now that I have a chance to repay that kindness, I had no hesitation.

Emma: "I understand. If I can be of help, I’ll do my best to play the role of your lover."

Kagari: "I knew you’d say that. I appreciate it."

Kagari: "Think about what you want as a reward. I’ll get you whatever you wish for."

(He probably won’t take ‘nothing’ as an answer...)

Emma: "In that case, could you treat me to one more dorayaki from the sweets shop we just visited?"

Emma: "It was so delicious that I’m planning to try all the flavors while I’m in Kogyoku."

Kagari: "You could have asked for something more extravagant, yet you ask for so little."

Kagari: "Dorayaki, I’ll remember that."

Emma: "Thank you."

Emma: "Whoa...!?!"

The carriage jolted sharply, likely from riding over a stone.

The sudden movement lifted me from my seat, and I found myself caught by Prince Kagari in front of me.

Kagari: "Are you alright?"

Emma: "Yes, I’m sorry..."

(Although I’m grateful, this is so embarrassing... It looks like I just jumped into his arms.)

Kagari: "....."

His red hair was so close it brushed against my cheek, making my heart race.

I tried to pull away quickly, but for some reason, he grabbed both my arms, holding me in place.

Kagari: "I know I’m the one who asked, but are you really capable of playing the role of my lover?"

Emma: "I-I can do it… in my head, at least."

Kagari: "Just standing next to me isn’t enough to convince anyone that we’re lovers."

(Ugh… How did he see through me?)

Kagari: "It’s better to get used to it so you don’t give yourself away."

Kagari: "I’m doing this for you, shy little princess, so you won’t be acting so awkward just because we’re close."

Emma: "W-Wait...!"

Prince Kagari effortlessly lifted me up and seated me on his lap.

Who could have predicted the day I’d sit on a man’s lap? My whole body felt like it was about to burst into flames.

Kagari: "Let's stay like this until we reach our destination. You’ll have to get used to me, whether you like it or not."

Kagari: "And then we’ll hold hands, look into each other’s eyes..."

Kagari: "Ah, I almost forgot something important."

He intertwined his fingers with mine and pulled my head close with his other hand.

When I squirmed from the warmth that touched my neck, I heard a slightly dissatisfied voice.

Kagari: "Don’t move, or I won’t be able to put it on."

Emma: "You’re not talking about a hickey, are you?"

Kagari: "What else would I be putting on you? A cut?"

Emma: "That’s even worse!"

Emma: "I said I’d pretend to be your lover, but please don’t leave any marks on me."

(I didn’t expect this much physical contact...)

Kagari: "It’ll fade in a few days, won’t it?"

Emma: "Yes."

Kagari: "The I suppose kissing you here is out of the question too."

Emma: "Of course it is! Absolutely not!"

He lightly touched my lips with his fingers, and I felt my body temperature rise again.

Kagari: "…I don’t get it."

Kagari: "How is it any different from holding hands or touching each other like this?"

He tilted his head in genuine confusion, and I felt a wave of both embarrassment and surprise welled up inside me.

Emma: "While it’s similar in that it’s physical contact, a kiss on the lips is something that particularly expresses affection."

Emma: "It’s an act of confirming each other’s feelings and sharing happiness, and I want to save that for someone special."

Kagari: "Is that so?"

He looked slightly upward as if pondering, but I could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced.

Kagari: "I understand your perspective. I’ll be mindful from now on."

(I managed to express my thoughts clearly, but... was that really enough?)

(To Prince Kagari, a kiss isn’t about pleasure or conveying feelings emotions; it’s just a meaningless act of touching, like everything else we’re doing right now…)

Thinking that made me feel a little sad, as if I was the only one who was overly conscious of it.

Kagari: "Oh, that’s right. I had something to give you."

Emma: "Huh? What is it?"

Prince Kagari reached for a box attached to the carriage, as if he’d just remembered something.

(Oh...!)

What he pulled out was a dagger, and I found myself tensing up unconsciously.

Kagari: "In Kogyoku, not carrying a weapon is something only those with a death wish do."

Kagari: "If you don’t want to die a pointless death, keep this on you at all times."

For someone like me, who grew up in a peaceful place, the thought of carrying a weapon still felt a bit unsettling.

But here, being careless, even for a second, could cost me my life.

(If I don’t want to seem like someone who doesn’t value their life, then I guess…)

Emma: "...Thank you."

I accepted the short dagger with both hands.

It was heavier and more sturdy than I had imagined, and it felt like it weighed on my heart as well.

Kagari: "But if you ever want to die, let know me. I’ll make it painless for you."

(That’s the words of someone who’s seen a lot of death.)

Though I couldn’t read Prince Kagari’s emotions or thoughts from his expression, I could tell that he meant what he said.

Emma: "I... no matter how tough things get, I don’t think I’ll ever choose death myself."

Kagari: "That’s very much like you. Hold on to that thought."

Kagari: "...No matter what happens."

…..

(Wow...)

To my surprise, we had been brought to a casino.

The floor was bustling, and I had to raise my voice a little to even be heard.

Emma: "I didn’t know there were places like this in Kogyoku."

Kagari: "There’s been ongoing factional struggles in Kogyoku, with various countries supporting them."

Kagari: "Because of that, there’s a lot of cultural influence from outside. The casino is one of the results of that."

Emma: "I see..."

(And the person we’re here to see is somewhere in this place... I never would have guessed from the serious expression on his face when he asked me to do this.)

(Now I’m even more curious about who it is.)

Emma: "...."

A large hand wrapped around my waist and pulled me close, and I instinctively tensed up.

Kagari: "You didn’t cry out this time. A gold star for you, Princess."

My heart pounded at his low whisper in my ear, and all I could do was nod.

(If it weren’t for what happened in the carriage, this would’ve been bad.)

I moved my feet to match Prince Kagari’s as he began to walk.

(Come to think of it… it’s my first time wearing a kimono, so it should’ve been difficult to walk, yet I’m able to keep up with him...)

(No, it's more like he’s adjusting his pace to mine.)

I silently thanked him for his kindness and discreetly surveyed the area.

(Why do I feel like everyone’s staring at us?)

Emma: "Prince Kagari, is there something strange about me? Like, am I moving stiffly or have a strange expression...?"

Kagari: "The stares are more because of me than you."

Kagari: "It’s rare for me to come to a casino or to be seen with a woman for that matter."

(But I don’t remember ever being this blatantly stared at in town...)

(It’s like everyone here knows Prince Kagari very well.)

Emma: "Um, Prince Kagari, what kind of person is it that you want to convince you have a lover?"

Prev | Next

▼・ᴥ・▼

[thisisourlovestory]

Safe and Sound

Finnick Odair x reader soulmate AU

Summary: you are a victor from district 4. The Quarter Quell has just been announced. How will you cope with the turn of events coming your way.

Word count- 2.8k

Chapter 1

I woke up early on the day of the reaping. Blinking awake slowly, head spinning from the effects of what even Haymitch from district 12 would class as too much alcohol, not that I’d really ever spoken to him, just from observation. I shuffled into my fluffy slippers and stumbled over to the table in the middle of my kitchen. Sitting down heavily, I groaned as lightning shot through my head and I scrubbed a hand across my face, reaching out to grab a glass of water and downing it in one gulp. Once my head stopped spinning I made myself a cup of coffee, mixing in milk and spooning in an inordinate amount of sugar, I made my way outside and sat on a chair, sipping the too sweet mixture from time to time, hands curled around the mug as I gazed out at the sunrise. Pinks and purples blended together, swirling with orange hues as it got lighter with every passing second. The sun rose above the horizon, bathing me in golden light as I breathed in the fresh air, letting go of all my fears and doubts for a moment to just take in the beauty of the world around me.

The trees swaying gently in the breeze, leaves rustling, songbirds chirping. One landed on my shoulder, twittering a joyful tune in my ear. I tapped my foot to the rhythm, singing quietly, whispering lyrics swept away by the wind. A ringing of the bell snapped me out of it, a harsh reminder of reality, of the games. I gave a grim smile and walked back inside, swigging back the last drops of my drink. Once back in the house I filled up the bathtub with steaming hot water, drizzling some scented oil in it and immediately stepping in. The water burned my skin, turning it red and raw, irritating the cuts on my feet as they stung and I hissed in a vague degree of pain. I grabbed a cloth and scrubbed my body viciously, stripping it of any dead skin and dirt that had collected over the past few days as I had moped around the house just waiting. My hands grabbed a bottle and I poured the contents onto my hair, scraping my nails across my scalp, rinsing it, then tipping a bottle of conditioner into it, massaging the smooth pink substance into my hair, making it smell like honeysuckle, sweet and overpowering.

I drained the bathtub and stepped out, wrapping myself in a fluffy towel. I picked through my clothes, discarding some to one side and placing others over the mirror in my room. I ended up with three options and I frowned as I assessed them. I didn't want something that would make me seem weak, but I still needed to portray the innocence of a child that the Capitol loved me for. Eventually, I settled for a light green dress that fell just above my knees, I studied myself closely, the dress clung to my upper half but flared out at the waist, the loose sleeves covering the mark on my wrist. I smiled at my reflection in the mirror, it was perfect; for a second I looked like a girl. A normal girl who hadn't been affected by witnessing death, who got to live a happy ordinary life with her family. And for just that one second I wished selfishly with all my heart that I could be with the person the universe chose for me, because he loved me. I snapped out of my daze and stared into the mirror, light reflecting off the surface and bouncing around my room. I turned away and face planted on my bed, the mattress muffling my scream of anger. My fingers gripped the sheets tightly, refusing to let go for a second as my breathing quickened and tears pricked my eyes. Now is not the time to cry, I berated myself silently, my nose still buried in the bed. Now was the time to stand up and show that I was not afraid, that they could throw anything at me and I would come back stronger. I sniffled slightly, sitting back up and dangling my legs off the bed as I wiped away a few stray tears. I gazed at my reflection again. So different from the confident girl I had been before, now a pathetic weakling, if that's what a few minutes could do to me then I hated to see what damage hours or days could inflict on me.

I heard people talking outside and moved silently to the window.

“Don't worry, it’ll all be fine.” I knew that voice.

“But what if I get reaped,” I knew that one as well, “I can't go back in there.” I peaked out to see Finnick and Annie, engrossed in conversation.

“I promise I won't let anything happen to you,” Finnick continued, gripping her arms and staring at her, “I promise.”

I smiled sadly at the sight, it hurt a little, it always did but I was happy for them. I truly was. I couldn't let my feelings get in the way of their romance, it was quite clear to me that they belonged together, the universe makes mistakes and it seemed like he and I were one of them. They walked back into his house and I stepped back into my own room, closing the window behind myself and trapping the cold air inside. Shivering, I picked out a white knitted cardigan and pulled it on, the soft fabric providing a thin layer of warmth from the chill. The clock on my wall struck 11, I breathed out deeply and walked downstairs, slipping on a pair of beige sandals, tying the brown leather just around my ankle in a bow. Taking a last look around my house I trailed a hand along some of the pictures lining the walls, photos of my mum and I smiling and laughing together from when I was little. It seemed so long ago now, I was no longer a child and my mum was no longer alive. My hand finished on the last picture, the most recent, one I had snapped a couple of years ago of Finnick and I. It was one of the last times I had spoken to him, before Annie. It had been after a particularly nasty nightmare and he had cooked breakfast, pancakes with syrup. He smiled as I got the sticky substance on my cheek and wiped it away with his thumb. I had laughed and held the camera up, both of us smiling widely as my finger pressed down to take the shot.

It was a reminder of happier times, as happy as they could be at least. I made to step out the door but I remembered something at the last second. My shoes. My ballet shoes. If I was going back then I wanted them as my token. Granted they weren't the pair I had the first time, those had long since worn out, but that didn't change the way every new pair of shoes made me feel. What they made me remember.

I had been 4 when I first decided I wanted to dance. I had seen the Mayor's daughter wearing a pair of ballet shoes and dancing in the garden with them on. I immediately fell in love, and ran home to my mother, so excited I talked about them for hours. Every day from then on I would go and watch the girl dance, I would copy her movements until I could do each and every one with the drop of a hat. Then one day a few years later they caught me watching. They had beat me black and blue and sent me running home crying, knees scraped and clothes torn. My mother had comforted me, singing a lullaby as she rocked me to sleep. The next day I woke up to a pile of books on the table and a box topped with a ribbon. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion but my mother smiled gently and nudged me forwards.

“Open it,” she said, “I think you’ll like it.” My eyes widened as I opened the books, there were pages upon pages of text, instructions, they were tattered and dirty but they taught me everything I knew about ballet. How to do the steps, how to strengthen my body and become more flexible, how to fully immerse myself in the dance and feel the music. Then I turned my attention to the package. I ripped the ribbon off and was greeted with a pair of ballet shoes. Slightly worn and ripped but in my eyes they were perfect. I shrieked in excitement and threw my arms around my mother as she caught me laughing.

“Calm down little bird,” she said, ”it's an early birthday present. And besides,” she continued a mischievous glint in her eyes, “I want free tickets to all your shows.”

I nodded my head, pulling away to look at her.

“Do you think I can actually do it?” I asked innocently. Her gaze became serious.

“You have nothing to prove to them, little bird, you hear me. But they will always look down on you, so you can either let them or you can prove that you are more than what they see.” She paused for a second, “You can do it my little bird, and you will be incredible.” I burrowed into her and she wrapped a soft blanket around us, cradling me like I was a baby again. She passed me the packaging and I lifted the shoes out, holding them carefully, as if the slightest move could break them. My thin fingers traced along the fabric, smoothing the heel over and tapping on the box, grinning in delight at the hollow sound it made.

“Go on,” my mother encouraged, “try them.”

I scrambled to the floor and pulled the shoes on, they were a bit loose but I simply tied the ribbons as tightly as possible and tucked the knot in. I stared down at them as I stood there, they were so beautiful and delicate. I wobbled onto the tips of them, my feet pointed, balancing on the very ends of my toes. My mother clapped as I walked around the small living room in them, being ever so careful to not slip over and ruin them. When I finally took them off, my feet had little blisters on them, I didn't care. I would endure anything to prove myself, to show that I wasn't just another district girl. I went to bed the happiest I'd ever been that night. My mother stroking my hair as I drifted into the dreamworld, filled with thoughts of dancing and performing where everything was perfect.

In the present I shook myself out of my reminiscing and grabbed a pair of the shoes, ribbons dangling loose, tucking them into a small bag and slinging it over my shoulder, I slammed the front door behind myself and strode out of victor's village, down the gravel track to the town. The sharp stones cut my bare feet in pinpricks and I winced, regretting my choice of footwear.

A light breeze brushed against my face and I pulled two pearl hair grips out of my bag, twisting the front strands of my hair and pinning them up together. As I walked, I was surrounded by nature, trees filled with green leaves and song birds, beautiful flowers the colours of jewels, fluffy clouds overhead. I breathed in the fresh air just before I reached town, something took hold in me and I twirled, laughing as the skirt of the dress flew out in a circle, it swished around me as I revelled in a moment of happiness, dancing around like a child, spinning wildly, leaping in the air with my arms spread wide for a final minute of joy. My cheeks flushed as I walked past the peacekeepers who had witnessed my outburst, they stood still, guarding the entrance to town. Making sure no one could escape. I made my way to the justice building, ignoring the looks people threw my way. Disgust, worry, pity a few of them among thousands. I strode to the desk where I had to register.

“Name.” The peacekeeper asked.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” I answered, holding out my arm for them to take my blood.

They gestured to the stage and I made my way up, taking in the thousands of faces looking up at me. Children probably grateful they wouldn't have to worry this year, parents glad they wouldn't have to lose another child yet. I look to the side at Annie and Mags, both deep in conversation as if they hadn't even noticed my arrival. Mags hugged her reassuringly and my heart cracked a little, wishing I had someone to comfort me like that. I turned back to stare at the wooden floor of the stage remembering the last time I stood here seven years ago after my name had been called.

I had been shaking like a leaf, terrified as I stuttered how old I was. The looks of pity sent my way by everyone and the horrified look on my mothers face as I had walked up escorted by peacekeepers. Lysander read off the boy's name but I couldn't hear anything, my heart pounding in my ears. I had kept my head down as I was led to a room for my last goodbyes. My mother rushed in and held me close as I cried and she wiped my tears then held my face in her hands and told me.

“You fight little bird. You hide and then you fight, you understand. You come home to me, I'll be waiting.” Then she pushed my pointe shoes into my arms and kissed me on the forehead before she was led out, giving me one last smile as I gripped the shoes. Then I was taken to the train and we were on our way to the Capitol

I smiled prettily for the Capitol, shyly answering any of their questions. ‘Yes I was a bit nervous’, ‘I loved to dance’, ‘Of course I could give them a tiny demonstration’, ‘I would try to win, for my mother but I had never known my father’. That got their attention, the poor little girl from district 4, no father, only a mother who she loved dearly, more than her own life. So when I got into the arena I did what mother told me, I hid and I fought and I got out but when I came home she wasn't waiting for me. She was gone. They told me it was an illness, one that was untreatable. So she was gone and I was left alone. I often thought I would have been better off dead. At least then I'd be with her.

All went silent and I was pushed out of my thoughts as our escort walked onto the stage, dressed outlandishly as always in the flashiest colours and cuts of fabric.

“Welcome all to the Quarter Quell,” he starts, “Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour.” The usual video starts to play and I roll my eyes as I hear the words ‘War, terrible war’. It's the same every year, a montage and voiceover which has no purpose anymore. We know what happened, we know what's happening now and we really don't need to be reminded of it. After what seems like an age the clip ends and Lysander claps excitedly, he’s the only one and the noise rings in my ears.

“I get goosebumps every time,” he gushes cheerfully,”It just gets me every time. And now for the moment you've all been waiting for, it is time to choose our tributes for this very special year. First the boys,” He walks over to the huge bowl containing one small piece of paper and dramatically dips his hand in. He picks up the paper and unfolds it painfully slowly. “Finnick Odair.” He announces and I have to fight back a cry as he steps forwards, waving and smiling at the cameras, my fingers itching at my wrist as the mark burns from the close proximity to him. Lysander grins almost maniacally as he congratulates him on this honour. Patting him on the back and exclaiming how exciting this will be

“And now time for the ladies.” He says and walks over to the other bowl with three pieces of paper in. I stand nervously, twisting my hands in the sleeves of my jumper as he reaches in and waves his hand around for a minute before plucking a piece out. He shakes it in front of him and unfolds it as slowly as the first one. I breathe shakily, in out, in out. He reads the name off the slip of paper.

“Annie Cresta!”

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[heavqn]

coriolanus snow x fem!reader (1.5K words)

it’s easy to get caught up in his trap. if you’re not careful, you’re gonna get snatched right up.

“Coryo! I cannot find my dress. Did you move it?” His eyes rolled. Why on Earth would he touch her dress? It’s not like he was gonna wear it. He replied, “No, I did not. You might consider checking other rooms rather than scavenging through the same one over and over.”

The slight tinge of attitude didn’t go unnoticed by his wife, but she said nothing. She knew it was in their shared closet; she had set it at the front of the rack herself just before bed. His attitude wasn’t the only thing she ignored. She progressed through the rows of clothing hung up on her side, determined to prove him wrong.

She didn’t understand where this sudden urge to be right came from but she pushed that thought back. The interview was in half an hour. She had approximately ten minutes to get her dress found and on before they had to leave. Traffic in the Capitol at this hour was hell, even for the President and his Lady.

Coriolanus was ready to leave. He hated waiting and he also hated having to repeat himself. Two things he was currently enduring. “Have you checked the guest room?” His tone was harsh and lacked any true concern for his wifes current state.

She was clearly distressed and a little help with less criticism from her husband would ease her. “No I did not. I know I put it in here. I’m not daft.” He felt his hands subconsciously curl into a fist by his side. He had never entertained thoughts of harming his wife until now. Her incompetence and lack of common sense infuriated him to no extent.

He saw the mess she had made of their shared closet and felt himself getting closer to that line of violence. That was a space for the both of them and she had destroyed it. Who does she think she is? This was the President’s house. Not some low-life district cabin.

Instead of indulging his oh-so-pleasant thoughts at the moment, he walked to the guest room adjacent to his own. To no surprise, the dress in its lacey, red entirety was hung in the closet. With no other thoughts besides getting the hell out of the house, he snatched the dress from its place and brought it back to his wife.

She sat atop the considerably small pile of clothes she had pulled from the hangers and drawers; mascara running and a hideous brown dress flared out by her sides. She had given up any hope of finding the dress when she saw Coriolanus come in earlier out of the corner of her eye.

She didn’t even want to attend the interview anymore. She looked crazy and the dress didn’t do much to help that. He would agree. The brown wasn’t a pleasing dark color; it was light and slightly irritating to the eyes. He swore at that moment he’d have that dress burned whilst they were out.

She heard him before she saw him. His black, polished shoes clacked against the hardwood flooring of their home as he approached her. “I can’t find it. I looked through the whole closet multiple times.” Her voice was soft in volume but hoarse. Her throat was itchy and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d failed at the one thing she was responsible for: getting dressed.

When no response or acknowledgment was returned, she looked back up at him. And there it was. She stood hurriedly, grabbing the dress from his grasp. “Where was it?” “In the guest room.”

“How did it get in there?” “I don’t know.” She gave him a quizzical look, trying to decipher whether or not he was being honest. She decided on the latter. His lack of words tipped her off. Coriolanus wasn’t a talkative man, but in the privacy of their own home, he was never so quick and dismissive with her.

“Why did you move it?” Her question earned a scoff and the shake of his head. “Can you just change so we can–” “No, I will not. Not until you’re honest.” She stayed glued in her spot, arms crossed as she waited for him to speak.

“Why would I move your dress? What possible motive could I have to do so?” He pushed back. His words ran through her head and she found herself shorthanded. Though it was at this moment she had a realization: Coriolanus Snow was never wrong.

“Because you always have to be right!” The sudden boom of her voice startled him but he didn’t show it. Typical. “I can’t even complain about my food without you stepping in to try and reprimand me like a child.”

He laughed. He fucking laughed at her. “I can’t tell whether or not you’re being serious. Are you still upset over the steak?” “Yes, I am! Because it was fucking co–” “It was not–” “It was MY FOOD. I KNOW WHAT WAS WRONG WITH IT.”

The silence that fell over them held a new found awkwardness and tension. He could hear the in and out of her breath, watching as her chest heaved up and down. Coriolanus wasn’t frightened often, but right now he sure as hell was.

They never fought. He was in new territory but he couldn’t let that stop him from standing his ground. He wasn’t lying about the dress. He knows there are times where he can be a bit dismissive of her problems but he’s the President. He has more important things to worry about; however, he wouldn’t dare speak that out loud.

“I didn’t move your dress. I suppose it could’ve been the maid.” He spoke with a sense of genuinity. It was hard to tell what was real and what was fake. Coriolanus was a charming man but he couldn’t twist his way out of this. Not when it's happened so many times, unrecognized.

She huffed. She hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath as she waited for his answer. It must’ve been a habit at this point. “I know my issues may seem insignificant to yours and that’s fine; I’ve come to accept that. But as your wife, you owe me your word. I don’t know what this marriage means to you, what I mean to you, but to me, you mean the whole world. I ask very little of you so I am asking you here and now, did you move the dress?”

“No.” She broke down. Hysterical sobs as she fell to the floor once again. How could he stand there and lie straight to her face? “Do not cry. You have no means to cry. I’m giving you my word; I did not move that dress. Why can’t you believe me?” He got down on his knees, cradling her face in his hands as he moved to wipe her falling tears with his thumbs. “Don’t you trust me?”

She looked up at him. Her eyes were watering but not as much anymore, and her cheeks held the plump redness due to her sudden outburst. She said not a word. The sudden yell for the maid rang heavy in her ears.

When she appeared at the doorway of their closet, she was dismissed as quickly as she had come. “You’re fired.” Coriolanus offered no further explanation as the maid stood there, dumbfounded at the sudden dismissal.

After she was escorted away, Coriolanus resumed his position in front of his wife. “Did that mean anything to you?” He asked her. “You did that to save your own ass. You only care about you. About being on top and in control. So no, Coriolanus, that didn’t mean anything to me.”

“I would sacrifice the whole world if it meant you were happy. I’d take out all of Panem just to make you smile. You are my biggest ‘what if’. Everything I do, I do it with the thought of you. I don’t know how you are so unaware of that.”

His declaration had her heart pounding. Coriolanus rarely even said he loved her. She had lost all feeling besides guilt. Guilt because how was she so naive? He is her husband. He wouldn’t lie to her. How blind must she be that she can’t even realize that?

“I’m sorry.” He smiled gently at her. “Nothing to apologize for. Mistakes happen.” He stroked her hair, twirling it once he got to the end. “It’s so easy to get lost in what we want, so much so that we forget who we’re hurting. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, did you?” She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes because of how she had hurt him. She was cruel.

He pulled her into a hug. Her face found comfort in the crevice of his neck as he rocked her back and forth, shushing her like a child. “As long as you are my wife, there is no need to think. I will tend to your every need. You don’t need anything or anyone else besides me,” He pulled her face to level it with his, looking straight into her eyes.

“Okay?” “Okay.”

—

feel free to send reqs/prompts!

[undercoveravenger]

Hearts Aflame

Pairing: Peeta x Fire spirit!Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Request: “Peeta bakes and meets a fire spirit who falls for him”

A/N: Happy Halloween! Here’s part 1 of your Halloween surprise, though there’s more to come. Hope you enjoy!

-----

Peeta had always been afraid of the basement in his parents’ house- dark and dingy and always a bit cold despite the fire raging away in the bulky furnace in the corner. Mostly though, he was afraid of whatever lurked within the flames in the furnace. He’d seen it once when he was a kid, glowing golden eyes watching him through the swirls of fire, only just able to make out the edges of the figure as it stepped forward, holding out a hand like it was going to get him. He’d turned and ran then, running away up the stairs and bolting the door behind him. Ever since then, he had done everything he could to avoid going back into the basement- offering to do his brothers’ chores in exchange to get one of them to go down there instead of him, hiding and enduring his parents’ punishments when he was found to get out of it. 

Now though, with District 12 in ruins and little but the foundations left of many of the homes of the village, he’s left waist deep in rubble and debris trying to take stock of what was salvageable and what would need to be completely rebuilt. He’s faced worse in the last year and a half of his life than what he thought he saw when he was little, so as much as unease is beginning to build in his stomach, he presses on, hefting charred beams out of the way as he tries to unearth what’s left of his family’s home.

His heart lurches in his chest as he moves a couple of splintered beams out of the way and reveals that same old furnace, the big glass window in the door spiderwebbed with cracks but otherwise unchanged. The fire inside had long gone out, but even still Peeta could see a faint glow from a couple of lightly burning embers. 

Almost without conscious thought, his fingers drift to the handle of the furnace. The cold metal bites into his hand just enough to get him to hesitate, but the promise of confronting his old fear has him pressing on, twisting the heavy metal handle and wrenching the door open. The gust of fresh air rushes over the coals, sending sparks skittering throughout the furnace and the few coals that had a bit of heat left flare up, shooting from the dim red they’d been glowing to a brighter gold and he can feel a bit of heat coming off of them now. 

As Peeta watches, something shifts within the waves of heat emanating off of the coals, shifting and rising from the pile of ashes to coalesce into something more tangible. It starts to take shape as it’s exposed to the air, smoke and sparks and flame cooling and hardening over into skin and hair and admittedly handsome features, completed by those glowing golden eyes that Peeta had remembered from all those years ago. 

The spirit steps forward, emerging from the furnace for the first time that Peeta knows about, standing tall before him with squared shoulders and a bright grin, and looking very nearly human for all that Peeta knows that he isn’t.

“Thank you,” the spirit says, voice low and warm like a fire crackling lowly in the hearth on a cold day. Comforting in a way you wouldn’t really think about but can’t help recognizing. “For freeing me.”

Peeta blinks then, startled by the calmness of the creature he’d feared all these years. “You were… trapped in there?”

He nods slowly, the glow in his eyes dimming to a soft (e/c) and Peeta really can’t find it in himself to be intimidated any longer, despite the creature’s power. “I was. I made a deal decades ago to help your father’s father succeed and he double-crossed me. I’d been there ever since, until you let me out.” 

“I’m sorry,” Peeta says because he can’t really think of anything else that he can say. “I’m sorry that I didn’t help you sooner.”

The spirit shrugs, bright grin sparking back to life and the spark in his eyes reigniting, “You didn’t know, I can’t hold it against you.” He takes a look around then, seemingly fascinated by all the changes from the last time he’d seen the outside world. He turns back to look at Peeta then, grinning softly as he takes Peeta’s hand in his, “There’s things that need taken care of now that I’m free, but I can assure you, this won’t be the last you see of me Peeta,” he presses a soft kiss to the back of Peeta’s knuckles and seems to spark along the edges of his figure, the firm outline of him breaking apart into little wisps and sparks of fire before Peeta’s eyes as he starts to dissipate, flaking away until all that’s left of the spirit are those glowing eyes, and then even those extinguish.

Feeling a little foolish for being afraid of the fire spirit all this time, Peeta finds himself hoping that he’ll keep his promise as he returns to his work.

[bangtangalicious]

placebo (m) | pjm (2)

pairing: jimin x reader, jungkook x reader, namjoon x reader (later)

summary: a microchip signals to you when you find someone compatible to be your soulmate. yours is the opposite of you in every way, and he doesn't even believe in soulmates

genre: 18+ romance, smut, angst, soulmate!au, dystopian backdrop, love triangle, romeo-juliet, opposites attract, grumpy-sunshine, fate versus destiny

premise: the soulmate initiative was a state program to promote healthy relationships. all citizens have a chip which signals to them when they find someone who meets their compatibility threshold. park jimin is a member of the resistance that aims to dismantle the state, as well as programs like this which rob free will. determined to love him no matter your differences, you fight for him despite the danger it puts both you and him in

wc: 8.5k || series masterlist | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

warnings: multiple & explicit smut scenes, lots of kissing good lord, penetrative sex, rough sex, love-making, emotional sex, public sex, oral (f rec), fingering, fondling, fluffy aftercare, jungkook sorta just walks in on you while showering so theres that, physical fighting (not mc), blackmail, a is for angst, crying, mention of family deaths, use of cigarettes, lying, jimin might be a tiny bit toxic if you squint

taglist: @tornparts @loona15 @effielumiere @agustdreamsblog @jnghs @dragons-flare @xiusmarshmallow @ratherbefangirling @infires-imagines @aretha170 @dvalitaes @kookiejeonie @ddaeng-angmoh @idk123906 @medievalpink5 @cuteipat @jimin-neverout @uarmyhore @natalie-rdr @secradee @tea4sykes @yawnkive

Indulgence. The ironic meeting spot of the resistance within the isolated Red District of the city. Neon lights flickering across inebriated eyes—eyes that dreamed of justice but currently were mesmerized by the dancers, embodying grace and allure, fluid movements, enticing glances, bodies telling tales of desire. Here they would congregate, removed from the prying eyes of society.

Jimin pushed open the heavy door, hit with the aromatic blend of perfume, whiskey, and sweat. An intoxicating haze. Across the room, Jin and the others sat, cigarettes lit and glasses clinking. A celebration of sorts—Jimin wondered why. They never invited him here. Frankly, he never cared to come either. It was a liability. Jimin was one of the few resistance members that continued to possess the state-mandated microchip. Him arriving in person to a banned establishment such as a strip club, put the entire area on the state’s radar.

Nevertheless, Jin texted him to come. So he obeyed.

“There he is” Jin greeted him from the comfort of the leather-clad booth. The light chatter diminishing as the others acknowledged him. Jimin took a seat, Jin handing him the cigarette right away.

As the smoke caressed his senses, a fleeting calm washed over him, a momentary escape from the chaos of the world. The world around him seemed to dim, and his mind went straight to you. How it felt so right to have your body hugged up against him when he rode you home. Your lips hovering over his neck, your scent, all of you overwhelming all of him. Speeding way beyond the limit at the edge of the night. No one to find you, no one to interfere.

In that moment the two of you were not soulmates. You were two people, high on the danger, adrenaline, and glimpse of a new beginning. You were alive.

Jimin’s lips curled in a subtle smile. The others could never know. He couldn’t imagine what they would do to you, if they knew. Jimin’s mere presence around you was a danger. The risk he took seeing you was worth it, for the thrill. But he knew better than to push his luck.

“Who’s got you smiling like that?” Across the table, Min Yoongi—a high ranked member who was like a mentor to his brother, teased. Jimin shrugged, tapping the ashtray. He wondered if any of them had felt the kind of high he had with you. Heart racing, fingers trembling, blood hot with desire.

“Jimin went to see his soulmate”

He blinked. Jin’s smile was wide—cocky. The whole table looked around in shock, exchanging looks of concern.

“Hyung what the hell” Jimin muttered under his breath. He didn’t know how Jin found out, probably had him followed. Fuck, he knew he shouldn’t have done it. He should have cut all contact with you the second he found out.

But he was too curious. Too drawn to your sweet taste that left scars on his lips. Was that selfish?

“Look,” Jin cleared his throat, “We’ve had come concerns about your commitment to the cause” Listening patiently, Jimin took another sharp inhale, letting the smoke dissipate through his lips. “You have an opportunity to prove your loyalty. Are you willing to do so?”

Willing. What a joke—Jimin mused. Technically, the resistance would never force actions on any of its members. But Jimin was a puppet and the strings of the fight for freedom chained him.

“Jimin’s soulmate also happens to be a scientist. Working on experiments for the Soulmate Initiative itself”

Jimin’s fists clenched, tempted like many other times to give Jin a solid punch to the face. A waitress approached the table. “Sir, this young woman was looking for you” She motioned to the entrance where you stood. Uncomfortable, scanning the foreign space.

Jimin exhaled, breath full of smoke, coughing out in shock. What the fuck were you doing here?

“Ah, she’s pretty, Jimin. If she were mine I’d probably buy into the soulmate crap just for a taste, although I’m assuming that’s what you’ve been doing huh” Jin teased. Jimin kicked his shin, not appreciating his flirty tone.

Setting down his cigarette, he immediately stood. Passing back an annoyed glare at Jin who simply chuckled.

Without a word he pulled you outside into the cold. The wind was crisp still—his leather jacket shielding him from it. And you were drowning in your puffy coat, knitted hat covering up to your eyelids.

Cute.

“Miss me already, doctor?” Jimin teased, trying his best to figure out why the hell you would have come here, and moreover how you would have known about this place.

You tugged at your sleeves, nose scrunching as you searched for words. He stared into your eyes. Your pretty, fucking gorgeous eyes that transfixed him like hypnosis. Eyes that said so much so loud, and yet he was dying to hear them. Jimin tried to fight it, the way every fiber of him was screaming to kiss you, fists clenching as he held himself back.

And then you bit your lip. So subtly, out of habit. But you did. And fuck.

Fuck.

Jimin lost it. He smashed his lips against yours. The taste he swore he was addicted to. Craving your lips, gasping, breathing you in. Hands cupping your face, forehead tilted against yours—he kissed you like your touch was all he needed to survive.

Maybe it was.

“Get off of me” You shoved him away. Jimin stared at you, stunned. “Asshole”

“Y/n—what?” He reached for your hand, but you pulled it away. Had he done something? His mind whirred, scanning through your entire evening. Every word he said, every move he made. He loved every second—and he thought you had too.

“Fuck you Jimin. I lost my job because of what you did” You gripped his jacket.

What the hell is she talking about? Jimin’s eyes softened. “You lost your job?”

His brows furrowed in confusion, until Jin’s words came echoing back. An opportunity to prove yourself.

They were testing him.

“You stole the data from the lab, didn’t you?”

Jimin’s nails dug into his palm as he took a deep breath.

“Yeah.” His response curt. He watched as tears began to spill from your eyes. His throat felt tight, chest pounding with regret.

“Why?”

“You know why, doctor”

“Did today mean nothing to you?” Your voice was small. Jimin stepped back, hand running through his hair. Lying to you felt wrong, but he had to do it. He had to lie to you. He had to destroy this before it began.

“Look, I don’t want to be in a relationship with you” The words left his mouth before he could stop them. The hurt in your eyes broke him a little. “I only went to see you because I had a job to do. I tricked you. That’s who I am”

This was for the best. So why did it feel so fucking horrible?

You shook your head furiously, “You’re lying”

“If you had a mind of your own, you wouldn’t even want to be in a relationship with someone like me anyway. That’s how I know it’s bullshit. They’re controlling you”

“No” You were stubborn, “No, I know you feel it too”

Jimin wanted to break. Shatter into a million pieces and get whisked away by the wind. His heart ached, bliss was only a truth away.

“Of course I fucking feel it, there’s a chip in my fucking neck telling me to” Jimin snapped, grabbing your waist, “And god does it feel good. So fucking good, I want to kiss you so fucking bad whenever I see you. But that’s all it is. I’m not in love with you Y/n—I can’t be”

You stepped away from him, evidently shaking. Jimin felt awful—sick to his core. Each tear streaming down your face was a bullet to his heart. A punch to the face. He wished the ground would swallow him whole. This was his fault—he shouldn’t have entertained you, not for a second. You should hate him, and he knew you probably wouldn’t because of the damn microchip. Which was the most frustrating part.

“Y/n are you done?”

Jimin turned to see Jungkook pull up in a small electric car. His glasses were foggy, hair a shaggy mess over his long coat.

“Glasses. Always a pleasure”

“Shut the fuck up man” Jungkook parked the car, stepping out to rush past him, taking you into his arms. Jimin crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Jungkook wiped your tears away before leading you into the car.

You turned back, one last time. He wondered if you could read his eyes. If you could, he was screaming out to you.

Fists balled up in fury, he stormed back inside the club. Jin stood by the window, amused by the whole ordeal. Slow applause filled his ringing ears as Jin approached him, patting him on his back.

“Well done. Almost wasn’t sure you had it in you”

Jimin had enough. He felt disgusting. Venom through his veins as his throat felt heavy with guilt. He was sick and tired of Jin. Sick and tired of the resistance dictating his every move. Holding their money over his head—he could be fine on his own. He could go off, get a job somewhere and fend for himself. Maybe he could get a scholarship to keep studying, he would never know. Under the guise of his brother’s wishes, how much was he expected to sacrifice?

With a surge of adrenaline, he lunged forward, fists clenched, aiming towards his Jin’s jaw. The music stopped. People gathered around, watching intently. Jimin’s eyes fuming with rage.

“You forget who the fuck I am?” Jimin sneered, “You’re out of line.”

Jin chuckled darkly, touching his bruise before standing back upright. “Oh come on, you don’t actually care about her. You barely know the bitch” Jimin swung at him again, but Jin dodged him move, forearm intercepting to twist him back. Jimin proceeded to kick back into his gut.

“Call her a bitch again, see what happens.” Jin landed on the floor, grunting as Jimin towered over him, “Get her her fucking job back Jin”

Jin wasn’t backing down. He punched Jimin back, the clash of their fists echoed through the silent room. Blow after blow exchanged, the impact reverberating through their bodies, fueling their determination.

“Where the fuck would you go?” Jin laughed between strikes, “She will never forgive you now. I you both a favor”

Jin dodged another swift punch, retaliating with a swift kick to his Jimin’s abdomen. Jimin staggered backward, but quickly regained his footing, launching himself back at him.

“You can’t love her Jimin, even if you wanted to” Jin rammed Jimin against the wall, trapping his throat with his elbow. Attempting to reason with him. “A part of you would always wonder. I know you kid. You have a duty to your brother”

“You’re the reason my brother is dead” Jimin hissed, trying to push Jin off but to no avail. They stood, chests heaving, their eyes locked with an intense spite.

“Okay enough” Yoongi interrupted, rolling his eyes. He held Jimin’s shoulder before nodding to Jin to let him go. “Jin, please get the poor girl her job back. That’s an order. And Jimin, the resistance core will be in touch about a character review. Stay away from the scientist—you know the rules”

You—

At some point it began to rain. Standing still, cold droplets seeping through your coat made you shiver. A welcome sensation, numbing the pain in your chest.

Jungkook unlocked your apartment before pulling you into his chest. You sobbed into him as he pressed his lips on top of your head.

"You poor thing, let’s get you into the shower"

He was sweet, handing you towels, laying out a pair of dry clothes for you. The hot vapor of the shower forcing you relax, forcing you to wipe away the tears on your cheeks. You slid to the floor, the shower pouring down on your back. Hot water scalding against your head. Hugging your knees to your chest.

You hear the shower door slide open, not reacting as your voice dried into soft sobs. Jungkook hovered over you, clothes getting wet at the edge of the water. Instead of focusing on the fact that you were completely naked, soaking wet in front of him, he looked into your eyes. Worried.

Finally, he crawled into the tiny space, sitting down by your side. His large hands caressing your hunched shoulders. You met his gaze. Grateful for him, as always.

God why couldn't it have been him? Such a perfect piece to your missing puzzle. His hair began to curl up in front of his eyes, dewy as he shook the water away. He was so close. So warm. Lips so soft, so near.

He smiled, and you could tell his thoughts mirrored yours. Eyes scanning over your face, your body, before he looked away. A disappointment in his eyes.

"I told you he was no good" Jungkook muttered, a hint of bitterness.

Closing your eyes, you focused on the way the water flowed over your head, down onto your eyelids, dripping off onto your face. Your boss, Dr. Jung had texted you—the data was missing. All of it, your years of work grinding through your degree. Jimin had stolen all of it. Inviting himself into your lab under the guise of wanting to give you a chance. It was a lie. You could barely fathom that soulmates could lie to one another. Let alone hurt them so deeply. Your fingers trembled, pressed between your knees.

“If I had been his type.” You confessed, laughing slightly, “Or somehow better, then he might have believed just a little bit that we were actually meant to be together, and maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe he wouldn’t have betrayed me”

“Bullshit” Jungkook said quietly, “It’s not you. It’s how he was raised”

You knew he was right. Ever logical, Jungkook never entertained pointless theory. He looked at the facts—and the fact was that you finally met your soulmate. And he was part of the resistance, a group built around free will. Something they claim the state denies through programs such as the Soulmate Initiative.

“Y/n” Jungkook interrupted your thoughts, “Have you ever considered that Jimin just may not want a soulmate at all?”

You stared at Jungkook. Picking at your nails nervously as you considered his question. There were no laws that forced soulmates to be together. It was usually the case that they simply chose to do so. It was logical, to you. Be with the person you are compatible with—the person who can love you and make you happy. Complete you like no one else can. You thought back to your “date” with him. The way you felt so incredibly safe with him. The amazing adrenaline rush you felt holding onto him for dear life as he raced on his motorcycle. The look in his eyes after he kissed you.

Those were facts. That was real.

“When I first saw Jimin and knew, I found myself wishing I hadn’t looked” You placed your hand over Jungkook’s.

Jungkook stared blankly at the floor. Body tensing at your words.

“Well” Turning off the shower, he stared at you, at your body. “I never looked anywhere but at you” Frozen in place, his throat tight, cheeks blushing.

You stared at him, bewildered.

His fingers trapped your jaw, before allowing his lips to slide onto yours. You groaned into his mouth, as his other hand rested on your thigh. Gripping at your skin.

As your lips touched, a surge of conflicting emotions coursed through your veins. For years this was all you wanted. Him—just like this. Wanting you just as bad. Time stood still as your mouths delicately met, exploring each other, evoking a rush of feeling. Of comfort.

But what it felt like with Jimin was different. Something you couldn’t quite make sense of. Logic was misaligned, but Jimin felt incredible to kiss. His smile made you giddy with happiness.

As Jungkook pulled away, a mixture of confusion and clarity settled upon you. You missed Jimin, despite it all. Your heart may not be ready to forgive, but you weren’t ready to give up either. There had to be more to the story. You simply refused to believe your soulmate would ever put you in harms way.

“Forget about him” Jungkook urged almost knowingly, voice trying desperately to push out your infiltrative thoughts. His nose tracing yours, “Just forget him”

He slid his lips onto yours again, this time with more intensity. You could feel without a doubt that he wanted you. As you fell back onto the cold shower floor, Jungkook’s hand cushioning your head. His eyes locked shut—but yours wide open.

You groaned in surprise, attempting to push his large frame away. He got the hint, lifting you back up.

“Let me stay with you tonight” Jungkook pleaded, grabbing a towel and wrapping it over your shoulders. “So you don’t have to be alone”

You couldn’t say no. It hurt too much.

You woke up in Jungkook’s arms, his hands on your stomach, and your back against his chest. Carefully you tried to move your legs which were wedged between his.

He groaned, feeling you move. Tightening his hold and pulling you back to him. You felt your breath escape you as Jungkook’s prominent boner pressed into your thigh. You were a scientist. A biologist—so you knew these things were perfectly normal. But you couldn’t help the way your stomach erupted into butterflies.

“Morning,” Jungkook reached out, stretching cutely. “That was the best sleep I’ve gotten in a while” He confessed, nuzzling against your neck. “You sleep okay?”

Your heart hammered in your chest. He was being incredibly sweet-addictively so, and you wanted to give in.

“Yeah I did, thanks” You leaned into his touch, his lips warm and sloppy against your nape. You couldn’t help the soft moan leaving your lips as his hands slid over your stomach. Threatening to go higher.

“You smell so good” He muttered lazily. A small smile painted your lips. Your phone began to vibrate. Checking the screen, you raised your eyebrows.

“Dr. Jung?”

“Y/n, it seems as though the data were returned,” He sounded annoyed, per usual, “You must have some great connections because I’ve been ordered to re-employ you, but best believe if you bring another stranger into my lab again—”

“Oh, uh. N-Never, sir”

The man hung up. You blinked slowly, processing. “I got my job back”

Jungkook’s smile widened, “That’s great—”

“Jimin did this,” You stood up urgently, interrupting Jungkook, “I have to find him”

“Y/n” Jungkook grabbed your arm before you could run off. “He doesn’t want you. He made that clear”

You shook your head, “I can’t give up. I deserve love, and so does he”

Jimin—

The resistance core was furious once they caught wind of Jimin’s actions. He was to be put in front of the resistance core council to debate his allegiance. Jimin couldn’t care less. Perhaps this was the escape—you were the escape, the chance he needed to get out and find his own destiny. Course, you were gone. You wouldn’t be able to forgive him, hell, Jimin wouldn’t want you to.

You were probably with Jungkook. He wondered if you liked Jungkook back since he clearly liked you. Maybe he comforted you. Maybe the two of you slept together.

Jimin wanted to vomit.

“Jimin” The council head spoke after some silence, reviewing the documented complaints, “We believe in free will. If you don’t want to support us, the cause that your brother gave so much to, to avenge the death of your family, that is your prerogative. However if you intend to stay with us, you must agree to never make contact with The Scientist ever again”

Nodding, Jimin gulped. He figured as much.

“We realize the pull of the Soulmate Initiative is tough to resist. And we do want you to be happy. So if you really do want to be with The Scientist, you can do so if she leaves her job and is willing to cooperate with us”

He couldn’t do that to you. No way.

Jimin had to decide. Jin was right, if he left he didn’t have anywhere to go. Not a penny to his own name. He did want to see change. At least here, he was able to make an impact. Here, his existence had some meaning.

“I won’t contact her again. I am grateful for the council’s mercy”

On his bike, he had no direction. No sense of where he was going—but he drove on. Fast, dangerously swerving the roads. He couldn’t talk to you, but he could check up on you at least. No, that would be far too painful.

Tears built in his eyes, clouding his vision. Bringing his motorcycle to a stop on the edge of the highway, he cried. A child denied a toy, he cried because he missed you. Because his body wanted you and he had to deny it. Deny you. Everything stripped away from him—his family, brother and now you. Was there a point to any of it?

“Are you alright?” A car halted—large white SUV, clearly indicating a state official. The window was tainted black, bulletproof. As it rolled down, Jimin could see a pair of eyes. It was a man. He looked vaguely familiar.

“Yeah, I’m good”

He rode to campus, soul void. Studying was a proven distraction to his hopeless reality. After all, he couldn’t afford to sulk around. He had to keep moving. As he walked towards the law library, he saw you. You saw him. The two of you frozen in time.

Until you were running. Running to him with your arms open and he caught you, swinging you up with the momentum, hand behind your head as he hugged you into him. Nirvana. Instinct, taking in all you were—your scent, the heat from your body—until he realized he was touching you and pushed you away.

“I got my job back” You were elated, brimming with excitement. Jimin wanted to kiss every inch of your smiling face. A warm feeling erupting from your happiness.

“Glad to hear it, doctor” He remained stoic, nevertheless. He needed you to give up. Needed you to get away.

“You care about me, you did this”

Jimin sighed. Why did his soulmate have to be the most stubborn woman on the fucking planet—he didn’t know.

“I don’t care about you”

“Stop fighting me” You pleaded, grabbing his shoulders and shaking them. “Look I’m sure you had your reasons for doing what you did. We can move past this”

“I already told you I don’t want this”

You stepped forward, face inched away from his, a fiery determination in your eyes.

“Really?” You tilted your face, squinting at him. Jimin nodded, eyebrows raised.

You stroked his face, just as he had done to you many times. He was stiff, taken aback by your forwardness. Without thinking, you pushed yourself onto your toes so you could melt into a kiss. You knew he could feel it, down to his bones—nothing was more right in the world than when you were in his arms, lips on his. No moral compass could keep you apart in those moments, Jimin was merely a servant, a fool bending to your magnetism and he would give up everything in an instant to feel like this forever.

His lips parted, letting you slip your tongue in. Widening your jaw to deepen the kiss. Tender in his actions, taming his need. Savoring every second.

Tears rolled down his face. If this was the last time he’d ever see you, he wanted it all. Forehead pressed against yours, his eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips, breathing barely inches away. Panting. Heart pounding.

“I can’t” You could feel his words, spoken upon your lips. Tone serious. No teasing, no flirting, just straight. “They won’t let me”

He stared at you a beat longer. Before grabbing your wrist, dragging you behind the library to an alleyway near the dumpsters. He pressed you against the wall, gripping your waist firmly.

He dove into your neck, fluttering kisses all over. Fingers trailing up your sides to where he grabbed your wrists, stretching them to either side of you. Movement urgent, frantic—you were his kryptonite, and he was unraveling at the seams.

Your fingers intertwined with his, as he nipped at your jaw. Breathing heavily, you attempted to call out his name but no voice came. Instead a soft moan. His fingers tightened around yours as he pulled away, staring into your eyes.

Silence. Only the sounds of both of you desperately trying to catch your breath. Flushed and bewildered.

“You should leave” Jimin’s voice was coarse. Deeper than usual, “Go”

He didn’t move. Neither did you. You challenged him, gaze unwavering. Waiting to see what he would do next.

It was as if something inside of him snapped. Something feral, raw, suppressed. Instantly he released your hands, fumbling to unbutton your pants. He yanked them down just enough before doing so to himself. Fingers softly gliding over your folds, barely teasing. He grabbed your hips, lifting you up against the wall before yanking your panties aside. Biting his lip, focused. You watched, gripping onto his shoulders for dear life, as his cock teased your entrance.

“Tell me to stop” He growled. “Tell me right fucking now doctor”

You shook your head, sliding your hand to his jaw. Blinking you stared into his lust shot eyes, eyelids fluttering, hazy with desire.

He sank into you slowly, letting out a low groan into your neck. Hands holding you steady, he was patient. Despite the heated urgency of his actions. There was not a thought in his head. Not a thought in yours. Nothing but raw need as he felt your hot walls tighten around him.

Jimin’s nose traced yours as he began to move in and out. Bouncing you up against the wall while your hands ran through his hair, scratching at him. Grabbing fistfuls and tugging his head back. He was so deep, so full inside you. The drag of his cock against your walls had you seeing stars. Rolling your eyes back, you wanted to scream.

“Ssh, be quiet for me doctor” Jimin kissed your lips playfully, lingering as he continued to fuck into you. He rolled his hips, pushing you up with every thrust, fingers digging into the bottom of your ass.

He let you onto your feet, pulling out so he could turn you around. Your hands up against the wall, his wrapped around your chest, shamelessly grabbing at you over your coat. It wasn’t enough. He wanted to feel you. Unzipping the damned thing he tossed it aside, enveloping you to keep you from the cold.

Finally his hands could slip under your sweater, pushing it up to the tops of your chest, tits sensitive to his touch. Hooking his jaw over your shoulder he watched as he squeezed your breasts, caressing them fondly.

Jimin pressed his lips against your collar, digging in his teeth. Keeping a hand on your chest, he slid back into you from behind, this time immediately rocking his hips steady into you. You arced your back, reaching back to grab his hair again. The slippery echoes of your cunt getting louder as his thrusts intensified.

Pressing you up even closer to the wall, he let one hand dive in front of you, fingers gliding over your clit. His touch was gentle, reaching exactly where you needed him to. And he could tell. Smiling against the back of your head as he felt you beginning to tremble. Wetness seeping as his cock nudged in further, finger rapidly circling your clit right there. Pushing you closer and closer to your edge.

Nothing but red. Red heat building inside of you, toes curling, lungs clenching—you couldn’t breathe. His body so close, the warmth against the cold air. You bucked forward, body spasming, twitching all over. He didn’t waver, he kept going, finger working you through your orgasm. Biting back moans as you tightened around his cock. Your wetness seeping through, soaking him.

Cursing, he pulled out, afraid he was going to lose himself in the sweet sensation of you. Turning you back around he pulled your thighs apart, sliding his cock against your clit, causing you to wince.

“Fuck, come here” He gritted, pulling you into another kiss. His hand tugging at his cock. He spilled into his palm, letting out a deep moan.

Finding steadiness, he cleaned himself up, zipping up his pants as you did the same. Grabbing your coat from the ground, he handed it to you.

As he was doing so, you noticed the bruises on his skin.

“Jimin—are you hurt?” You touched him again, causing him to flinch. “When did this happen?”

“Don’t” He warned. “Just go”

“Can I at least bandage you—my place isn’t too far from here, come on okay” You grabbed his wrist, tugging him along. Jimin stood firm in his ground.

“Why can’t you fuck off”

You turned back at him, “Fine, let me do this and then you can go—I won’t bother you again”

Jimin looked at you skeptically, but chose to go along regardless. He followed you through campus, the snow beginning to melt away—spring was nearing. He could see tiny flower buds on bushes, birds chirping in the distance. Your apartment was cozy. A smaller building, you were on the top floor. Frazzled, you fumbled with your keys to get in, and Jimin was hardly surprised to see the haphazard shape your place was in—textbooks, papers everywhere. 

“Sorry about the mess”

Jimin was a neat freak himself. Nevertheless, he swallowed his irks and let you lead him into your bedroom. He scanned the walls, aside from some nerdy science posters there wasn’t much there. He noticed your shelf of romance novels, as well as a copy of Dr. Kim Namjoon’s memoir.

You pulled off his jacket, then his shirt. His toned muscles littered with purple. The bruises causing your eyes to widen. Jimin couldn’t help but smirk. They weren’t watching anymore—no harm in teasing you a little.

“Like what you see doc?”

You blushed, meeting his eyes before immediately returning to your task. “No—I mean, yeah you look great. Not your bruises—those don’t look good at all, but here let me just—” You found a first aid kit under your bed. Grabbing some gauze and alcohol, you began to tend to his wounds. He watched as you kneeled in front of him, focus lasered onto the task at hand.

Jimin grabbed your jaw suddenly, overwhelmed by your tender care. Pulling your face to his. You blinked at him, stunned as he kissed you softly. Humming against your mouth. More relaxed, at ease, as if he had all the time in the world.

“Jimin let me—mmpfh” He didn’t let you finish. He didn’t want to hear another word. Pulling you into his lap, he slid your own coat to the floor. Not leaving your lips for a second.

“No” You squealed, giggling slightly. “No more until you let me clean your wounds”

Jimin pouted, looking to you with puppy eyes. “But you’re my doctor aren’t you—and this makes me feel good”

“I thought you wanted to leave” You taunted him right back. He grinned, enjoying the way you were pushing him.

“I’m not in a rush” His eyes darkened, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“You don’t ever have to leave, you know” You offered. “They can’t hurt you here”

Jimin raised his eyebrows, “The resistance you mean? Why are you gonna take them all on your own?” He nudged you playfully. You shrugged.

“I could use my evil science powers”

Jimin laughed. Laughed in a way he hadn’t in a long time. Why did he want to leave so badly—why did he have to push you away? Could he dare to hope that you two could survive anything—it seemed unrealistic. Cliché. But here he was, dumb in love with you despite his best efforts.

Wait what.

Jimin gulped, growing serious all of a sudden as he continued to stare at you. You rose from his lap, a goofy smile on your face as you packed up the first aid kit.

“You said they won’t let you…were you talking about the resistance? Will they not let you be with me? Because I’m your soulmate” He watched as you wandered into your kitchen.

“It’s not because you’re my soulmate. It’s your job” Jimin responded, “But I also don’t believe in this soulmate stuff, which you know”

“Well clearly you do when it helps you get laid” You joked. He knew you were joking, but it wasn’t funny to him. His physical attraction to you was feverish, and it concerned him that he might be taking advantage of you. Getting benefits of a commitment he was unwilling to make. You returned, noticing his serious aura. “Jimin—it’s fine. You told me you don’t want me, anything that happened after was my choice”

You don’t want me. Of course he wanted you. How could he not want you—you were perfect. You were suffocatingly stubborn, clingy, messy and absolutely clueless but you were perfect. And you would fight to the ends of the earth for what you believed in, while Jimin wasn’t sure if he believed in anything anymore.  

“I’d never ask you to leave your job. But they own me, Y/n. I really can’t do anything about it. I didn’t even steal your data. They did, and they made me take the fall for it so that you’d hate me and leave me alone”

“I will leave you alone Jimin, if I think that’s what you actually want” You held his hand firmly, “But I have a tough time thinking that’s true”

Jimin looked at you. The glimmer of hope in your eyes. “Even if they allowed it, that doesn’t change the fact that we’re inherently not compatible”

“We are compatible. We’re soulmates. You do what you have to do for the resistance, I won’t interfere and I would never sell you out”

“What if my job forces me to damage something you believe in though?”

You sighed deeply. Jimin could tell you didn’t know the answer. Despair began to weigh down on you both, how unlucky must you be to have been matched to someone like him. He wanted to be the man you deserved, but he wasn’t. Plain and simple.

“I like you, Jimin” You confessed instead. “I think you’re great. I want you. You’re in my dreams, I can’t not think about you. Even when Jungkook kissed me I,”

Jimin’s grip on your hand loosened. “Jungkook kissed you?”

“It didn’t mean anything! He was just trying to comfort me, I think”

He put his hands up in defense, “I’m not upset with you doctor—I get it. He’s cute”

You made a face, “You make fun of him”

Jimin winked, “You can be lame and cute at the same time. You are”

“You think I’m lame?”

“I think you’re a nerd” He confessed, matter of factly. You punched him playfully before sliding your lips onto his. He pulled you against his chest, holding you tenderly. “Prettiest fucking nerd, but nerd nonetheless”

You giggled against his lips. He kissed you again and again, smiling in between and it was everything. Jimin couldn’t even fathom that you were real. A real person in his arms making him so happy—elated about the future in a way he was sure he’d never been before. You were everything. The start of everything.

Falling onto his back, you climbed over him, lips not parting for even a moment. His hands gripping at the hem of your sweater before you allowed him to pull it over your head. He admired you, lips swollen in nothing but your baby blue sports bra.

He let his fingers trail over the fabric, drawing light circles and watching the way you twitched under him. You gasped, unconsciously rolling your hips against him. The look on your face was priceless, biting down on your lip hard as you tried to tame down your sensitivity. Adorable, how you thought Jimin couldn’t tell. That he couldn’t read your body like the back of his hand. Finally you grabbed his wrists, stopping his movements so that you could pull off your bra. Your breasts popping out—Jimin lay dumbfounded, eyes glued to your body.

You looked at him, shy. Jimin exhaled shakily, unsure how to capture his amazement. He wanted to touch—so fucking bad. You rose carefully, sliding down you trousers until you were left in your panties. Then those dropped to the floor.

“Fucking hell doctor, you’re gonna give me a heart attack” He stood up, unzipping his own pants where his bulge was painful, burning between his legs. Kicking the garments aside, his hands hovered over your waist—barely touching. Waiting for your signal.

“You’re beautiful”

Jimin’s ears burned at your words, blush across his face. You looked at him with awe. His heart fluttered, realizing he had never really been complimented on his looks before, merely his ability to fight.

“Can I touch you?” His voice was raspy, barley audible. Lust seized every fiber of him. “Please let me fucking touch you”

You nodded, and Jimin wasted not one more second grabbing your hips, sliding his hands to your ass where he squeezed you as his lips locked with yours.

Laying you down on the bed, his lips trailed every inch of your skin from your toes, up your calves, down your thighs. Loving the way you twitched and moaned at his every move. Riling you up, he wanted to see you fall apart under him. His fingers found your clit again, palm rolling under your folds. You grinded on his wrist, fingers helplessly clutching the sheets beneath you.

Dropping to his knees, he spread your thighs, admiring your glistening folds. You bucked your hips as he traced them—trying desperately to shut your legs but he overpowered you.

“Jimin I’ve never—I don’t know if that’s such a good” He shushed you sweetly, looking deep into your eyes. Kissing the insides of your thigh, he worked he way to your pussy. Slow, patient, kissing the edge of your folds as you squealed.

“It’s okay baby, I want to” He promised, and you believed him. His hand caressing your thigh to ease the tension before he slipped in his tongue. Eyes not leaving yours for a second. It was incredibly intimate. He seemed to consume you, in a white-hot blaze of adoration. You reached for him, sitting up to grab a fistful of his hair. The pull turned him on even more, his tongue flicking faster, eating you out for all you were worth.

“Jimin” You panted, “Ohh fuck” He continued to fuck his tongue inside of you, drinking up your essence. His wet tongue hot, deep in your core where you could feel his every move—driving you crazy. Your eyes dazed, frazzled beyond belief. Lips parted as your eyes rolled back with pleasure.

Coming up for air, he licked his lips, savoring your taste. You stared at him with blasted eyes as he crawled up to your face so he could kiss you again.

“Thank you” Jimin chuckled at your words.

“You don’t have to thank me, baby. It’s my fucking pleasure”

“Should I do you?”

He shook his head. If he didn’t pound his cock inside you right now, he swore he was going to implode.

“Open up for me baby, yeah?” He lined his cock up with your soaked cunt. Slowly, inch by inch he began to slide in. You bit down on your lips hard, until blood trickled out. Jimin licked it right up, tongue teasing your lips before sliding into your mouth. He bottomed out, lips glued to yours, groaning into you. Propped up on his forearms, he gave you a moment to adjust. He felt so good—shafted deep inside you. You clenched around him obscenely tight, he was seeing stars. You were a dizzy hurricane, and he wanted to be swept up by you. Destroyed until there was nothing left.

“You feel so good” He buried his face into your neck, “Fuck baby, so fucking good for me. You feel okay baby? Can I move?”

“Y-yeah” At your green light, Jimin carefully pulled out. Back in, tight thrusts beginning to pick up in pace. Dotting your face with kisses between each one. He swore he was losing consciousness, vision blurred with desperation—craving of you. Heart pounding as pleasure wiped through his nerves.

Hooking your leg over his shoulder, he adjusted his angle, hitting you even deeper. Your cunt coating him, the sound and smell of sex driving Jimin feral. His hands grabbing your breasts, wanting you to be stimulated—to feel as good as he was.

“Fuck baby, I don’t ever want to leave” His mind was void. Reason out the door as he spewed nonsense. “I’ll leave it all for you baby, leave it all for this fucking cunt—oh God”

“Don’t leave” You responded, disoriented by his pace. “Don’t ever leave me”

“I won’t baby, fuck, I’m never leaving” He kissed you firmly, letting your leg fall to the side. He stared into your eyes, foreheads touching as he drove his cock in deep. “You like it baby? You want my big fucking cock, yeah?”

You nodded furiously as he taunted you. The pout in your lips sending him overboard. “Fuck baby I’m gonna cum so fucking hard—you’re so fucking hot, my pretty girl—where do you want me? Want me to cum on your face?”

“Please” You gasped as he pulled out, tugging his cock as he kneeled tall over you, letting his cum squirt down onto your eyelids. He groaned, taken by the sensation and by how sexy you looked covered in his cum like that. Ropes of cum streaming out as his hips bucked, hot pleasure seizing him.

“Fuckk” He collapsed onto you, burying his face into your chest. Rolling onto your sides, you caressed his head against you. He looked up at you, nothing but fondness in his eyes. Wiping the cum off of you with his discarded t-shirt.

The two of you lay in silence, simply adoring one another. Jimin pulled you into his arms, grabbing your comforter so the two of you could slide under. He stroked your back softly, fingers trailing up and down your spine. Naked legs tangling. Fitting against each other like a puzzle. He kissed your forehead as you buried your face into his chest.

“You okay?” He asked after some time, massaging your shoulders gently. You peered up at him, content and blissed.

“This is really nice” You whispered, trying to hide your smile. Jimin held your chin steady, preventing you from turning away.

“You’re so cute” He muttered, landing another peck to your lips. It never got old, he swore he could kiss you forever. “I—”

He stiffened, unsure if he was ready to say it. It was too soon, and he still lacked the answers of how the two of you could possibly work, and you must have known because you simply chuckled.

“I know. Me too”

You—

The lab had always been your safe space. The comfort of the chunky white lab coats, latex-free gloves and goggles. Your protection. Your serenity. As you went about your trials, Jungkook sat at the bench next to yours, typing away at his computer.

“What are you working on?” The silence was too loud. Things felt awkward with Jungkook. You knew you couldn’t tell him you hooked up with Jimin. Even though, in your eyes, you did the right thing. Your first time with Jimin was rushed. Unexpected. But so was he. In the most flawed way, he was somehow perfect. You knew he was scared of what he felt. Scared to question what he believed, but in that moment all he wanted was you and he was sure to let you know that. Second time was bliss. And you were so excited to go home to him. Excited for every amazing night to come. You wanted to tell Jungkook everything, but wasn’t sure he would appreciate knowing the intimate details of your love life.

“I’m finding your compatibility results”

You swerved, “What?” Kicking your chair so it rolled next to Jungkook’s. You scanned his screen, seeing him type in some code. “How?”

“I have my ways” He assured you, “I just want to get to the bottom of this, you deserve better”

“Jungkook, that might not be necessary anymore actually because…”

“Here!” Your attention redirected to his screen. He clicked on a file, opening a scanned proposal. Scrolling through, he finally found your name. “Y/n L/n, age, birthday, la da da” Humming, he searched the data for a clue.

“Well?” You tapped your fingers against the desk.

“Uh” Jungkook gulped, “Interesting.”

“What? What is it?”

Jungkook looked at you, almost as though he were debating what to say next. “Y/n, do you really love him?”

“We’re getting there” He raised his eyebrows, “I mean, we—are making progress”

Jungkook read between your words. Shutting his laptop, he sighed. “Nevermind”

“Jungkook—what the fuck did it say?”

“Jimin isn’t listed as your soulmate. You don’t have anyone listed”

Your throat felt dry. “What?”

“You were in the placebo cohort”

You stared at him. The placebo cohort. Meaning—what?

“I’m sorry, Y/n”

“No there’s some other explanation” You shook your head, “Jimin and I had a rough start but. He’s kind. Dedicated. He’s had a rough go of it—I don’t know his story but I can just tell. He’s insightful, and isn’t afraid to challenge me. He understands me too, even in this short time. He’s sweet. And he wants me just as bad as I want him”

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Jungkook looked appalled, “You’re delusional, Y/n. He said he didn’t want you, explicitly. He’s lied to you many times,”

“The chip doesn’t alter our emotions, it only gives us the signal. I know what I feel Jungkook—it has to be him”

“Placebo cohort’s get the signal, but the compatibility test wasn’t actually run so it’s signaling that some random person you’re not actually compatible with is your soulmate. To see if the computability part actually matters, or if simply thinking someone is your soulmate is enough”

It couldn’t be. You felt nauseous, as though everything around you was spinning. Time and time again Jimin had told you to back off. That what you were feeling wasn’t real when you believed so strongly it was. Nothing about it made sense.

Suddenly Jimin’s flaws glared at you—he was in the resistance, fighting against the very peace you upheld. He was a violent person. He hung out with shady people in banned places. He broke rules which you followed no matter what. He smoked. He rode a motorcycle. He didn’t believe you were his soulmate—and you weren’t.

But you loved him.

And he, probably, loved you too.

Was the placebo effect real then? Did you fall in love just because you thought you were supposed to? If you never had the signal—never had the chip—would you have been able to look past your differences, and find what you did?

He had only just begun to believe. This would crush him.

“You have to tell him” Jungkook echoed your thoughts. You frowned, he was clearly deriving some joy from the fact that he was right about Jimin.

“Does this mean someone else out there is actually my soulmate? More compatible with me than Jimin?”

“Most likely” Jungkook confirmed, “Only way to know is to reset your chip. And only Dr. Kim himself can do that”

You turned to your calendar. The conference was only a few days away. What were you supposed to tell Jimin in the meanwhile? Should you avoid seeing him? Should you ignore this and just love him anyway?

“I-I gotta go” You scrambled to gather your things. Rushing to take a bus home, you barged into your apartment. Eyes wide as you noticed the entire place had been cleaned up. Nose twitching to the scent of something cooking—something delicious.

Jimin smiled warmly upon seeing you. You had left before he woke up, leaving him sound asleep with a kiss on the cheek.  

“Morning doctor” He continued to go about his cooking. He looked adorable, sleepy hair and shirtless, cracking eggs into a pan. You wanted to cover him with kisses, “Hope you don’t mind, just thought I’d whip up some food. Aren’t you supposed to be at the lab?”

“I, yeah I uh”

“Oh taste this” Jimin took a spoon of some sauce he had made and quickly made his way over to you. Slipping the spoon in your mouth, your eyes widened as flavor burst in your mouth.

“Jimin” You mumbled as he took the spoon out, stealing a quick kiss. “Fuck that’s so spicy Jimin”

“Not your thing, doctor?” He pouted, “Damn, I love spicy food”

Your heart dropped. He’s not your soulmate. You’re not compatible.

He seemed to notice your unusual behavior.

“Hey baby, it’s okay. It’s just food preferences, not the end of the world”

“Jimin, we’re” You cleared your throat. “We’re not—”

“Oh, are you upset that I’m still here? Don’t worry I have class in the afternoon, I’ll be out of your way” Grabbing your hands he pulled you into a hug. Swaying your body left to right, you wanted to melt.

“Jimin” Your voice was breaking. Tears welling in your eyes.

“I know we don’t have everything figured out baby” He hummed against you. Pressing his lips on top of your head, “But for once, I think, I believe it’ll work out”

You broke.

Shattered into tears. You couldn’t possibly do this to him, not after everything you already put him through. How the hell were you supposed to tell the man you’d chased relentlessly that you weren’t supposed to be together?

“Baby,” Jimin held your face in his hands, searching with concern “Y/n, what’s wrong?”

You couldn’t breathe. Sobs blocking your air. Chest tight.

“Hey, easy baby” Jimin held your hand, guiding you to sit down on your bed. He knelt down by your side. Pressing his lips onto your knuckles. Across your wrist.

The odds were unlikely. But there was a slim chance that despite being a placebo match, he may actually still somehow be compatible with you. He may still be your real soulmate. You should wait until you knew for sure. 

“I’m okay, sorry I just, got emotional” You wiped your tears away, chuckling. Jimin didn’t look like he quite believed you, but decided not to push it.

“Don’t apologize, doctor” He kissed your knee, “As long as you’re okay”

“Jimin”

“Yeah baby?”

“No matter what happens,” You sniffled, “I believe in you”

Jimin chuckled, stroking your face, “Babe what has gotten into you? Did Jungkook say something—I can beat that fucker to a pulp if he did, I am a vigilante after all”

You smiled. Because the man in front of you was dazzling. Despite the fights. Despite your differences. If this wasn’t true love, you weren’t sure you wanted whatever that was. This was all you needed. He was all you needed.

Which is why you owed it to him to be honest.

“We’re not actually soulmates”

Jimin simply blinked.

“It was a placebo, where the chip signals but we aren’t actually compatible. So the basis for everything we felt—or everything we think we feel, was a lie”

Silence. So haunting and so obscenely loud, you weren’t sure you’d survive it.

series masterlist | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

a/n: HOPE YOU ENJOYED <3 i tried lmao, but plsssssss let me know what you think ive never written anything like this and wanna know what your reactions are!!! ask questions, give me your theories, any and all of it! <3 have a wonderful day cuties~

[monstersandmaw]

For the micro story thing, what about number 13? I always sorta sympathize with monsters with heightened senses when I'm in a crowded place because I experience sensory overload too. Love your writing and hope you're doing good♥️

13. too loud (also, I feel you, Anon. Noise cancelling headphones for the win in cities at all times)

Raoul had suggested a date to the Victoria & Albert Museum, but as you waited for the District Line train, he looked distinctly uncomfortable.

You snuck glance after glance up at him, his back ramrod straight, a muscle in his jaw jumping, until finally you caved and touched his upper arm.

He had his hands jammed into the pockets of his dark, perfectly-pressed trousers, but you slid your touch down his arm and pressed your palm against the coolness of his own, deep in the privacy of his pocket.

"What's wrong?" you asked, but at that moment, the grinding roar of a train filled the tunnel to your left and he grimaced and turned somehow even more to stone.

Then you saw the red flare in his irises and the way he worked his jaw as if to keep his canines from lengthening. The vampire in him was losing control.

"Raoul? What is it? Too many people?"

"Too loud," he hissed. "The train, the people; it's... it's so... much."

"Look at me," you said, reaching up for his jaw with one hand. "Raoul, look at me."

He did, red eyes on show for anyone to see if they cared to notice.

The tension drained from his shoulders just a fraction, and you turned your head to expose your neck to him. "Listen to my heartbeat instead."

It wasn't perfect at drowning out the world around him, but giving him a regular rhythm to anchor himself on helped. It helped long enough to take the four stops to your exit anyway, and by the time you emerged into the V&A's tunnel entrance, he had regained a little of his composure and was ready to monologue about changes in fashion through the ages as he led you through their latest exhibition.

[glassesfreekjr]

IMG: candid photo of Red Flare District's (alleged) bassist, Deryn Doe. Wanted for illegal data brokering as of 09/10/122023.

Excerpt from interview with two three members of Red Flare District, Inkopolis News Network; 6 September 122023:

------

Q: So, i take it the band's second single was composed and arranged primarily by... Haddock, was it? Hiddock (he/him), guitarist: Hiddock. Deryn (presumed she/her), bassist: [incoherent] St. Tuna Piano (he/him), frontman & drummer: Yeah, no input from me at all, man. Real inspiring stuff. Shame Petr coul'n't sing vocals again. Q: ... What was the reason this time? St. Tuna Piano: Cuz 'e choked on a bell pepper, that's wot. Irrevokably out o' commission. Deryn: [incoherent] Hiddock: Truth be told, I was initially inspired after our day trip to Um'ami — er, before it flooded last week, that is — but it wasn't until Shipshape Cargo Co. broke into the whole Turf War shtick that this idea just... arose through spontaneous generation; Squid Athena being birthed, fully formed, from her own skull. I mean, like, this new battleground floats through the remains of the polar ice caps — in essence, the impetus of both humanity's extinction and the Great Turf War, now used for a mundane cargo route and commercialized inkspewing. Don't you think that's oddly messed up? Q: Couldn't say. Anyway: there seems to be some degree of curiousity regarding a sample used around the one-minute mark. Any remarks? Hiddock: From a demo tape we found. Lost media; fit the theme. You wouldn't believe if we told you how we got it. Deryn: [fervent babble; no less comprensible] Q: I... don't believe she was even invited to this interview. How, uh... why is your bassist present? Hiddock: Well, "present" isn't... the word I would use. She's here, certainly. St. Tuna Piano: She comes n' goes as she pleases. Sorry if she touches anythin', 'er hands get all sticky. Q: Yes, but where did she come from? St. Tuna Piano: Same place anyone does, I 'xpect. Hiddock: Under a bridge. St. Tuna Piano (abruptly): Don't worry about it. We, eh, take care of her. Or somethin'.

------.

(sample source list can be found on my Youtube)

[moodymelanist]

Step Back, Doors Closing

happy day 4 of @nessianweek everyone! AU day is one of my favorites and I hope you enjoy yet another hyperspecific nessian in DC fic haha.

Summary: Nesta has had it up to here with the guy who doesn’t understand City Rules™.

Word Count: 3.3k

Read on AO3 here!

✵✵✵✵✵✵ Nesta 

It was the second week of her highly coveted summer job, and Nesta was going to be late.

“Come on, come on, come on,” she muttered under her breath as her train took its time shuttling into Metro Center. She had another train to catch, and while normally she arrived at her station with more than enough time to catch her second train to McPherson Square, she’d overslept by just enough time to throw everything out of whack.

Nesta had just finished her second year of law school, and her firm hadn’t wasted any time in getting her started. She’d worked her ass off all year to land this position, and she wasn’t going to fuck it up so early in the summer by strolling in late like some of the other summer associates. She didn’t have a rich father or so many connections that going to law school was almost a formality; she’d put in the work to earn her spot, and she wasn’t going to let something as simple as missing her connecting train stop her from clawing her way to the top of her summer class.

Thankfully, the Red Line’s doors opened relatively quickly, and Nesta nearly ran a few unsuspecting people over as she raced through the station toward the escalators to catch whatever train was coming next. It didn’t matter if she caught a Blue, Orange, or Silver; she just needed to be on the next train, for God’s sakes.

“Excuse me!” Nesta called out as she took to the stairs at a run, her irritation already flaring at the people who just didn’t seem to understand the rules of living in a city. She loved the District, but she didn’t love just how many tourists and those unfamiliar with the Metro seemed to flock to the train during the summer. How hard was it to remember to stand on the right and leave the left clear?

Everyone seemed to get with the program except for one massive guy who was standing on the left side of the escalator without recognizing the dirty looks being thrown at him from behind. Nesta didn’t have time to wait for him to get with the program, though, so she yelled even louder, “Hey! Hi! Excuse me!” 

“Huh?” The guy turned and looked over one of his very muscular shoulders, his hazel eyes widening slightly at the look on Nesta’s face. He had just enough of a drawl to suggest he wasn’t from around here, but Nesta was far too worried about missing her train to take in just how good-looking he was or how much she liked the accent on his lips. “Sorry, ma’am. Let me get out of your way.” 

“Thanks,” Nesta told him as he moved his frankly massive body to the right, finally giving her the opening she needed to sprint down the rest of the escalator. She had to shove her foot into the door to stop it from closing on her, but by the grace of whatever god was listening she managed to make it inside the train just before it left.

“Fucking idiot tourists,” Nesta muttered under her breath, practically collapsing into her seat as she caught her breath. She absolutely hated running for the train, especially around those who didn’t know any better. Hopefully she wouldn’t run into the guy again.

Besides, did she really look that old to be called ma’am? What a dick.

✵✵✵✵✵✵

The rest of Nesta’s week was thankfully uneventful commute-wise, and she was very grateful that she didn’t have to sprint through Metro Center looking like an idiot at eight thirty in the morning again. 

Nesta’s luck didn’t hold forever, though. Nearly two weeks later, she’d stayed out later than usual the night before because of a networking dinner, and pressing snooze one too many times on her alarm led to her jumping out of bed with a series of curses so vulgar her mother was probably rolling in her grave at how unladylike all of it was. 

Nesta rushed through the fastest shower of her life, somehow managing to make herself presentable in twenty minutes before she hauled ass out the door to get to Cleveland Park. She thankfully had enough time to drink a cup of coffee and take another to go before she left her apartment, but all the coffee in the world couldn’t prepare her for how the rest of her morning was going to play out.

“Excuse me! Excuse me! Jesus fucking Christ, excuse me!” Nesta snapped, already out of patience with it all as she maneuvered her way off her first train and downstairs to the other half of the station. To add insult to injury, one of the escalators was apparently having some kind of issue, so instead of the two going down and one going up, there was only one of each.

Of course this was happening on what was already a very shitty morning. At the sound of a train approaching on the lower level, Nesta tightened her grip on her coffee and hauled ass to make it to the working escalator, ready to make that train come hell or high water. She would’ve made it too, if not for the giant wall of muscle that was once a-fucking-gain taking up a truly ridiculous amount of room on the escalator. Despite her increasingly loud calls of excuse me, the man didn’t move out of her way until just in time for the doors to shut right in front of Nesta’s quickly reddening face.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Nesta practically snarled under her breath, her chest heaving from her now-pointless sprint. Before she could stop herself, she whirled around to face the man responsible, clutching her thermos so tightly it was a miracle the material didn’t crumple under her hand. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry?” he replied after a second. Today he had on a pale blue polo tucked into a pair of darker navy slacks, and she hated how good he looked in the outfit when all she wanted to do was rip his head off. 

“You made me miss my fucking train,” she continued, really working up steam now, “because you’re apparently incapable of remembering what side of the escalator to stand on. So I ask again: what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m not from around here,” the man responded after a moment, at least having the decency to look a little sheepish as he stared down at Nesta. He had a badge clipped through one of his belt loops that said Cassian. “We don’t have public transit like this back home. I’m used to driving everywhere.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you have back home,” she snapped. The next train was coming in three minutes, so she had plenty of time to tell this Cassian about himself before she made it into the office. “You’re not in fucking Kansas anymore. Get with the goddamn program.”

“It’s Texas, actually,” Cassian answered, apparently completely unruffled by her outburst. It only made her want to lash out at him more, but judging by the amusement twinkling in his eye, she wasn’t totally sure that would be a problem for him.

“It’s an expression,” Nesta hissed. God, she needed more coffee; the stuff she had clearly wasn’t strong enough to deal with this idiot, but it didn’t stop her from taking a healthy swallow from her thermos. “Surely they have those back home.”

“We have plenty of things back home,” he replied cheerfully, though she suspected it probably fell into that faux-Southern kindness she’d heard about before. “Including manners. And politeness.”

“If you want that so bad, then maybe you should fuck back off to Texas,” she retorted. She looked down to her feet and was incredibly thankful that the lights on the edge of the platform had started flashing, signaling the next train was about a minute away. “We do things a little differently on the East Coast.”

“Yep,” Cassian told her, the amusement fading from his eyes. She felt a vicious burst of satisfaction as a hint of annoyance began to creep into his voice. “I’m beginning to see that.”

“So you are capable of learning,” Nesta said just as her train pulled into the station. She turned over her shoulder to give him one last icy look before she boarded her train, adding, “Keep up the good work.”

✵✵✵✵✵✵

By the time Nesta made it back to Metro Center after work, she was more than ready to complete her commute in peace. Her feet hurt, she was nursing a low-grade headache, and all she wanted was to change into her most comfortable pajamas and maybe throw on a face mask while she caught up on Interview With the Vampire. Maybe the universe would be kind for once and actually let her.

It seemed the universe was hell-bent on ruining her day, though, because there weren’t any seats available on the train back to Shady Grove. Nesta sighed heavily, trying to convince herself she was completely fine with standing the entire way back to Cleveland Park; her shoes were killing her, and she’d forgotten to charge her AirPods before she’d left work for the day, but it was fine. Totally, completely, and one hundred percent fine.

“You want to sit down?”

Nesta looked up from where she’d been reading something on her phone, unable to come up with a coherent response as she realized it was the guy from earlier – Cassian, who was still looking way too good in his blue outfit. 

“What?” Nesta replied, her brain not completely firing on all cylinders after the day she’d had.

“I said, did you want to sit down?” Cassian repeated. He was sitting nearly directly across from her in one of the seats right by the doors, and he’d already started to pick up his backpack like he fully intended to get up.

Of course he was offering her his seat out of some misguided sense of chivalry. At any other time, Nesta would’ve rolled her eyes and told him to fuck off, that she could stand up just fine; after the last few weeks, though, the worst part wasn’t even that he’d offered. 

It was that she was considering taking it. 

“Just—” Cassian began, looking more and more exasperated the longer Nesta stared at him like he had two heads. “Just let me do this. Okay?”

“Why?” Nesta asked, suspicious. 

“I know I fucked up this morning,” he answered. God, that drawl shouldn’t be as attractive as it was; Nesta cursed her tired brain for liking the sound of his voice even more than usual. “And a lot of other mornings, if we’re being honest. Can this be a minor peace offering?”

Nesta weighed her options as the train began slowing down. On the one hand, sitting down would be amazing, but on the other, she didn’t know if she wanted to let this weird thing she had with Cassian go just quite yet. Still, her feet were hurting, so she just sighed and told herself it didn’t have to mean a single, goddamned thing, even though she knew the truth.

“Fine,” Nesta finally agreed. Cassian hopped up so she could sit down just as the train came to a stop at Farragut North, and she absolutely didn’t notice the way his arm muscles flexed as he reached up to grab the railing above him. “I still don’t like you, though.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Cassian responded. A satisfied little smile appeared on his lips, and she had to focus somewhere else before she did something stupid like think about totally dropping her grudge because of how good-looking he was. “I hope you weren’t too late for whatever you were rushing off to.”

“My summer associate position is more than just ‘whatever I was rushing off to,’” she replied, too tired from her long day to do more than roll her eyes at him. 

“Summer associate, huh?” he fired back. He seemed appropriately impressed, so maybe he knew some lawyers. She wouldn’t be surprised if he did; this was DC, after all. “What law school are you at?”

“Georgetown,” she answered. She wasn’t totally sure why she was telling him this, but hopefully it wouldn’t come back to bite her in the ass somehow later. She wouldn’t mind if he came back to bite her in the ass, but she viciously shoved that thought out of her mind; now was so not the time. “I’m starting my last year of law school in the fall.”

“That’s nice,” he told her, somehow managing to pack the words with a ridiculous amount of… something. He waited for the train to stop and keep going onto the next stop before adding, “Real nice. I’m on the Hill this summer.”

“You and half the city,” she retorted. If you lived in the District for longer than thirty seconds, you’d meet someone who worked on the Hill. “I hope you don’t think that makes you special.”

“If you think I’m special, then I’ll take it.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. I can just tell what you’re thinking.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Nesta said, thoroughly ignoring the grin on Cassian’s face. “Don’t tell me you’re working for that piece of shit Ted Cruz.”

“What do you take me for?” Cassian said back with a roll of his pretty eyes. “Not everybody from Texas is a bigot, sweetheart. I’m working for someone with sense, thank you very much.”

“I don’t think you want to know what I take you for,” she replied dryly. 

He just laughed, the sound somehow making her feel a little less frazzled after a shitty day. “I’d ask you, but I don’t want a situation on the Metro.”

“And what kind of situation would that be?” she asked, raising one of her eyebrows. 

“The kind you don’t talk about in polite company,” he responded. His gaze turned just heated enough to make her force herself not to squirm; she was incredibly thankful that most of the people getting on and off the train had headphones in. 

“You think I’m polite now?” she questioned, not quite willing to cede control of the conversation. 

“Nah,” he replied with a teasing grin. “You’re something else, ma’am.”

Nesta rolled her eyes as the train finally started slowing down at Cleveland Park, gathering her belongings as she prepared to get off the train. “My name is Nesta. Not ma’am.”

“What’s wrong with someone calling you ma’am?” Cassian asked. “You don’t like a respectful man?”

“I’ll let you figure that out, Cassian,” she told him just before she got off the train, making a point of using his first name. Maybe he’d be encouraged to do the same. “Don’t make me miss my train again.”

If Cassian had a reply, Nesta didn’t hear it before the doors shut and the train continued onward. As she walked back to her apartment, she half wondered where he lived; she hadn’t seen him on her way home until today, and half of her hoped it wouldn’t become a habit. 

The other half of her almost hoped he would.

✵✵✵✵✵✵

Nesta went another few days without seeing Cassian, and then on a fateful Wednesday morning, she spied him standing in the middle of the lower platform with his head on a swivel. She was suddenly and immensely thankful that she hadn’t had to run for the train at all today because of how handsome he looked this morning. He had on a white collared shirt tucked into a pair of dark gray slacks, and she of course noticed the way his muscles were straining against the fabric even with the short sleeves. 

Remember how bad he is at taking public transportation, she told herself as she stepped off the escalator.  God, she wished she’d brought more coffee with her to keep her head in the goddamned game. Remember how he made you miss your train. It doesn’t matter how hot he is. 

All of that went out the window the second Cassian opened his mouth, but Nesta wasn’t as upset about it as she probably should’ve been. He really was hot.

“Hey, Nes,” Cassian said. Nesta realized he was holding a large cup of what was probably coffee, packaged nicely in a dark blue thermos. “I, uh… got you this.”

“What is… this?” Nesta questioned. They had another few minutes before their respective trains came into the station, so she supposed she might as well entertain him a little. It had absolutely nothing to do with how hopefully he was smiling at her.

“Coffee,” he answered, taking a step closer. His cologne smelled way too good and she had to actively stop herself from face planting into the side of his neck to take a deeper whiff. She should’ve never taken that goddamn seat; she was folding faster than a house of cards. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I just got something with caramel in it. Hope you got a sweet tooth.”

“Why would I accept coffee from a stranger?” She asked, mostly to watch him squirm. She didn’t know how he’d guessed about her sweet tooth — or how he’d managed to pick the one morning she’d run out of coffee and hadn’t been able to make her usual two cups — but once she was done needling him, she was going to chug the entire thing. 

“Because it’s good coffee?” he replied. “And I think we’re beyond being strangers, sweetheart.”

“Right,” she responded slowly, making sure he could feel how incredulous she found the entire situation. “How do I know you didn’t poison it?” 

Cassian made a big show of twisting off the lid and taking a sip, somehow managing to do that all and swallow without breaking eye contact. It was unfairly hot and he definitely knew it, judging by the little smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. “Better?”

“Fine,” Nesta grumbled, reaching out her hand and wiggling her fingers expectantly. “Let’s see how good this really is.”

Cassian snapped the top back on and handed the thermos over without comment, the cup warm in her hand as he passed it over. Once she got the top open she performed the same trick he had, very much enjoying the way his eyes went a little wide as she brought the thermos to her lips and swallowed. The coffee was good, maybe not as sweet as she may have preferred, but still good all the same. 

“Well?” Cassian asked expectantly. “What do you think?”

“It’s fine,” Nesta answered, taking another sip. “Could be sweeter.”

“Knew you had a sweet tooth, Nes,” he replied smugly. “Just something about you.”

“I just like sugar,” she told him with a roll of her eyes. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“About you being sweet?” he retorted with a knowing grin. “Never that. I like my ladies meaner than a two-headed snake.”

“…Right,” she said, not totally sure what to say back to that. Was that some kind of compliment? Judging by the way he was looking at her, maybe it was supposed to be. “Is that a Texas thing?”

“Nah,” he said back, still grinning. It was really ridiculous how nice of a smile he had. “Just a Cassian thing.”

“I take back what I said before,” she responded with a huff of laughter. She didn’t think she’d ever been hit on in this way before, and it was certainly memorable. “You are special. Definitely something wrong up there.”

“As long as you know what you’re getting into, sweetheart,” he retorted. 

“And what would that be?” Nesta questioned, raising her voice as both of their trains began approaching the station. 

“Let me take you out for a proper dinner and you can find out,” Cassian fired back without missing a beat.

Nesta studied him for a few seconds, finding nothing but earnestness in those hazel eyes she liked so much, and decided to take a chance. “Fine, but only if we drive.”

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @fieldofdaisiies | @goddess-aelin | @c-e-d-dreamer | @talkfantasytome | @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk | @sv0430 | @talibunny30 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @champanheandluxxury | @lilah-asteria | @burningsnowleopard | @sayosdreams | @readskk | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @bellaful08 | @readergalaxy | @podemechamardek | @pearlfortears | @nerdperson524 | @jmoonjones | @kale-theteaqueen | @autumnbabylon | @hiimheresworld | @illyrianshadowhunter | @dustjacketmusings | @live-the-fangirl-life | @that-little-red-head | @sweet-pea1 | @brieq | @queercontrarian | @jsmelodies | @afflicted-with-wanderlust

[hidden-poet]

S. lands on top: chapter 4

summary: Coriolanus returns home to the Capital with two women from district 12 plaguing his mind. One a (presumed) dead mystery but another well within his reach.

warnings: unco, dark!Coriolanus, possessive!Corirlanus, Dark themes, mentions of death, she/her pronouns, kidnapping, violence, somnophilia.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

S. lands on top; 4

Strabo Plinth was waiting for Coriolanus as he exited his university class. 

“Mr. Plinth, sir,” Coriolanus greeted, his voice carrying his annoyance. 

“Coriolanus,” the older man returns, placing a hand on Coriolanus’ shoulder and propelling him forward out of the crowd of his peers. 

“We haven’t seen you in a while. Mrs. Plinth was asking about you.”

“I’ve been busy, sir, with University.” 

More, in truth, with Mabel. 

“Of course, but perhaps you could manage dinner on Saturday night. We promise not to keep you long.” 

Coriolanus swallows his distaste. He hated being at the beck and call of district blood. Now that he was a Gamemaker, he earnt a decent wage and could afford to distance himself from the Plinths. But Strabo Plinth offered far more than money. He was a powerful ally to have in Coriolanus' corner.

So he smiles at the older man and doesn’t jerk from his touch. 

“Why don’t you and Ma come up to our penthouse Saturday? There’s someone I would like you to meet.” 

It would be a good opportunity to test Mabel’s training on people who don’t really matter.

Strabo seemed pleased with the news, and confirmed that both him and his wife would be there. He finishes his sentence with ‘son’ and Coriolanus couldn’t help but flinch. 

—--

With Reaping Day coming up, Coriolanus and the other Gamemakers were working overtime to get everything organized on time. 

It frustrated him to no end. Dr. Gaul had already set him an impossible target and now she was shortening the deadline. 

He had been forced to authorize a heavy hand with Mrs. Fox. Mabel’s hands were often red and sore from the cane by the time he came home, but her temper flared bright still. 

She was a dog with teeth and he was yet to get her to eat from the palm of his hand. 

She loved a challenge, but so did he. 

By the time he got home, the house was dark and quiet. Normally Tigris would sit up and wait but she wasn’t talking to Coriolanus much these days. Another problem that would be solved the second Mabel learned to submit. 

Coriolanus finds his way to his bedroom and locks the door behind him. 

He could see Mabel’s outline on the bed as he dropped his bag by his desk. He isn’t quiet as pulls his pajamas from the drawer, and heads to the bathroom. He hears Mabel move as he switches on the light in the bathroom, he turns back to see if she had woken. 

She had not but the sight before him struck a match. 

She was back in his top and underwear. Her soft hair seemed to shine with its new care and was sprawled around her. Long locks curled on her shoulder towards her breasts. She laid on her back as if she was showcasing her beauty to Coriolanus. Her neck stretched out to him as her head rolled to one side. Her legs slightly parted as one rested on the pillow she used as a barrier. Pretty pink lips and long eyelashes called out to him, taunting him, ‘You can look but you can’t touch’. But why couldn’t he? He owned her now. He was soon to own Panem. 

He drops his pajamas and crawls on the bed over her. She doesn’t wake from his presence, and he takes it as a go-ahead to unbutton her top. The cold air does wake her. She instantly knows what he’s doing and screams for Tigris. 

Covering her mouth with his hand, he brings his lips down to her ear, “Shh, don’t wake the house.”

She screams into his hand and he removes it to backhand her. She lets out a moan of pain, but nothing more. 

He is rougher with his movements, yanking the shirt off her shoulders and pulling her up by the neck to get rid of it completely. He uses both hands to pull her pants off her ankles before returning. 

“Get the fuck off me!” she yells and he covers her mouth once more. 

“You’ve cost me quite a bit of money these last few weeks. Your governess, the peacekeepers, food, chocolates.” 

His hand lowers to rub circles over her sex. 

“You should really thank me.” 

Her hips buck at his touch. She was no virgin and knew of the release Coriolanus was offering. 

He presses his lips down against hers harshly. It was their first kiss and it was intoxicating. She doesn’t kiss back but makes no move to hinder his kiss. His hand goes back over her lips when he’s done and he undresses himself one-handedly. 

He tries not to hurt her as he clumsily tears his clothes off but as she wiggles and fights under him, he is forced to press her back into the mattress with his elbows and knees. 

He presses his naked body down on Mabel to stop her from wiggling. His strong fingers grip over her mouth and her nails claw into his shoulders, trying to hurt him. 

“Put your hands on the headboard,” he demands. 

She brings them up to his neck and digs in. 

“Headboard,” he repeats with a firm twist of her hair. 

She does put them up, curling her little fingers around the rich material. 

One day, when everything was settled, he was going to take his time exploring every inch of Mabel. But for right now, he just needed to reach the end goal. 

He inserts a finger into her to pleasantly find she was wet. His eyes darted up to her at the sensation. 

She had chosen to close her eyes. He takes it as another victory. 

He breaches her entrance with his finger but never fully enters. Just pushes his finger back and forth. 

“Let see, your governess is on a thousand panem an hour and you districts make only one panem an hour. Add that to all the chocolate you eat, and well, you’ll be laying down, taking my cock for a while to come.” 

In anger, she lowers her hand to give his curls a harsh pull. He slaps her thigh in retaliation. 

“Keep your hands on the headboard.” 

She places them back on the headboard.

He used to imagine sneaking out the back of the Hob with Mabel like he watched her do with so many other men. This was better. 

She tossed those men aside when she was done. Never to be spoken about again. 

Here, the only man who would touch her would be him. 

He lines himself up with her and pushes himself as far as he could go. She arches her back at the feeling of him inside her. With a hand over her mouth, he begins to thrust into her. He could feel her lips part under his hand in quiet moans. She used her feet to push back at his hips but it was a half-hearted effort at the least. 

He reaches up to the headboard and clamps one of his hands down on hers ensuring that it stays there. His thrusts are hard and fast.  

He hits a particular spot and her hips buck. 

“You like it there?” he targets the same location. Her hands grapple the headboard almost as a praise. 

“Bet those boys in 12 never fucked you like this. Never gave you the proper attention you deserve.” 

She said something into his hand but it was muffled and surly from her lust. 

Her breathing hitches as the pleasure builds, he can feel her little puffs of air fall on the skin of his hand. Giving her the full treatment, he lowers his hands and rubs two fingers over her clit. She jumps and whines from the attention. It was better than any song Lucy Gray ever sang. 

Between his thrusting and his fingering, she came within seconds. 

He lets out an unintended moan as she clenches around him. Her fight returns as her orgasm is flushed from her and she begins to wiggle underneath him. 

He barrows down again in retaliation, so she was forced to lie there and take it. He shows her mercy by taking away his hand and using it to hold her hips in place.

“You’re used to taking charge, aren’t you? Once you’ve had your fill, you would toss them aside without theirs. Rude girl.” 

She throws her head back and his hand follows as his thrusts become painful. When she lowers her hands to his arms without permission, he doesn’t mind. 

His head spun. For the first moment since childhood, he was living in the present and not plotting and scheming for the future. 

Heavy pants accompanied his thrusts as the hard and fast movements worked his body.

He lowers his head to her neck as he feels his end coming. The position meant his lips were pressed against her collarbone as he came inside her. His hips buck weakly a few times at the end to ensure that he had fully emptied himself. 

Coriolanus rolls off her and into his side of the bed. 

She lays there as Coriolanus’ cum drips out of her, deathly still while he pants breathlessly. 

She doesn’t say anything as she rises and takes Coriolanus’ shower, slamming the door behind her. 

The next morning he rose in good spirits. After so long he finally got a taste of Mabel. He was right to say she was addictive. Still, he didn’t want children running around his feet. He had only just got her. He rang down for Profeous, a pill that worked within a 24-hour time frame to ensure that nothing stuck. 

It was delivered with his morning paper. Mabel was still not up yet. He doubted she went to sleep until the early hours of the morning. It wasn’t his problem, he needed her to get up now, take the pill, and have some breakfast. She could nap later on. 

He brings her the pill and a cup of water. 

She lay curled into a ball on her side. He shook her until she unrolled herself. 

She sat up, with her eyes stuck together from sleep. She won the battle against them and looked at Coriolanus sitting on the end of the bed. 

“Good morning,” he greets, holding out his palm with the little white pill. 

“What is it?” she asks. 

“It’ll stop you from getting pregnant.” 

She snatches it off him and downs it without water. He places a hand on her shoulder as he leans over to place the cup of water on the bedside table. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she brushes his hand off. 

“You didn’t seem to mind me touching you last night.” 

She glares at him with a fury that doesn’t suit her beauty. 

“That had nothing to do with you.” 

“That had everything to do with me.” he cockily replies. 

“It’s a natural reaction. God's gift to any man who can find the clitoris.” 

She takes the water off the table and gulps it down. 

“I knew you were going to,” she admits softly. 

“Well, you’re not stupid”. 

“So that’s how it will be now? It’s begun.” She rested her head against the cool glass as she spoke. Before regaining herself and placing the glass bedside table, forfeiting her comfort in an effort to seem more put together. 

“Sex doesn’t scare me,” she remarks. 

“It’s not supposed to.”  

“You can’t use it to break me.” 

He places a hand on her thigh in comfort. She tenses under it but doesn’t move it off her to show him that intimacy couldn’t be used as a weapon. 

“Mabel, your life here can be comfortable or it can be very uncomfortable for you. Sex can be something enjoyable for both of us, or it can just be enjoyable for me. You can have food and clothes and as much chocolate as you can eat.” 

“So long as I open my legs,” she had a habit of interrupting him that he had yet to break. 

“And keep your mouth shut.” 

He gets up from the bed, shoving his hands in his pocket and standing above her. 

“There’s a dinner on Saturday night where you will be presented to the Plinths. A trial run for you to show me that you can learn your place here in the Capitol.” 

��My place as you captive,” she bit. He yanks her chin up to him, 

“Your place as my pet.” 

She glares at him. 

“My little lap dog,” he mocks, releasing her.

Intimacy didn’t scare her, the loss of independence did. 

—————-

Coriolanus spent his Saturday completing an assignment that wasn’t due for another two weeks. But the quicker he got school out of the way the more he could focus on Mabel. 

He hid at his writing desk, penning the paper while Mabel sat with Tigris in the living room sewing.

He had left the door open to hear any commotion but he only heard laughter and the occasional scolding of Grandma’am. 

The night was fast approaching and he still had to organize the meal for tonight. Despite being district, Strabo had particular tastes that he demanded to be catered to. 

He sighs as he places his pen back in its holder. Two assignments down, four to go. 

Coriolanus rises from his chair and heads to the living room to organize dinner with the chef.

Mabel paid him no mind as he entered the room. She makes a point to not look at him but continue her sewing as if he wasn’t there. 

He plays the same game as he continues his way to the kitchen and calls down for the chef to be brought up. 

While waiting in the living room for the chef, Coriolanus calls for Tigris. Mabel doesn’t turn at the sound of his voice but Tigris scurries over to him. 

He produces two tickets from his pocket and passes them to her. 

“I’ve made dinner reservations at the Venezia at 6 and requested a lounge with Pluribus at his nightclub for after the Opera.”

“Opera?” Tigris checks the dates of the tickets, “Tonight!”

“For Grandma’am and you”. 

She eyes Coriolanus suspiciously. 

“I’m not so sure, Coryo.” 

“Mabel will be fine here with me.”

“She’s been funny recently. Quite. I don’t think I should leave her.” 

“You leave her every day, Tigris, when you go to work,” he flicks the tickets in her hands, “Besides I’ve already told Grandma’am that you’re taking her.” 

There’s a knock at the door from the chef and Coriolanus pats Tigris on the shoulder as he leaves. 

He passes the living room, crossing directly where Mabel sat but she still refused to look at him. 

—----------------

Coriolanus digs in Tigris’ closet while Mabel was taking a shower. No dress was up to his standard. He wanted something that let Mabel’s beauty speak for itself. Tigris hid behind her clothes. They were all too colorful. Too eccentric. Nothing Mabel wouldn’t drown in. 

His hands went still over a simple black evening gown with a sweetheart neckline and small cap sleeves. He takes it for Mabel along with Tigris’ makeup bag off her vanity and brings it to his room with the dress. Still hearing the shower running, he leaves the items on the end of the bed and joins Mabel in the shower, leaving a trail of clothes as he strips. 

She gives no reaction to him. Showers together were a regular occurrence. 

He picks up the scented soap and lathers it over her body. 

“I’ve put a dress on the end of the bed for you. And some makeup. Do you know how to use it?”

She grabs the soap off him and distances her. 

“We had makeup in District 12.”  

She goes to pass him out of the shower but he catches her arm and pulls her back under the stream. 

“Nothing clownish. Keep it simple. And mind your manners tonight. Plinth doesn’t take disrespect easily.”

Coriolanus leaves the shower first to prepare himself. He brushes and dries his curls into submission. Rubs an expensive cream into his skin to give it a healthy, glowy look and then hunts in his closet for something to match Mabel. He knew he had a black suit that had dark patterned printing on it. But amongst his many clothes, it was difficult to locate. 

When he finally locates it, Mabel had already dressed and begun styling her hair and makeup. He could hear her behind him as he then went to find the perfect pair of shoes to match. 

She hums as she does her makeup, finding joy in once again dressing up.

It was nearly time for the Plinths to come up from their apartment just below. They had brought the floor below the penthouse to stay close to Coriolanus after the death of their son. They latched on to him quickly when he returned home. Replacing the hole Sirjanus left before it bled too much. At first, Coriolanus relished in the attention and the money. But as he rose in society, they got in his way more often than not. 

While Strabo was often an ally, one that Coriolanus was surprised to find had a lot in common with, Ma was a hindrance. Her outdated fashion despite her money, and her babying of Coriolanus in public made it almost not worth the connection to her husband. But all people still had their use. She had brought him the suit he now wore. 

The jacket buttoned upon his right shoulder, giving the suit an almost military feeling. 

He turns around to see Mabel putting on her red lipstick using a small standing mirror. She looked stunning. Her dress was tight upon her body, exemplifying her curves and pushing up her small breasts. She pinned her hair up in a loose bun and followed his instructions on the minimalistic makeup.  

His breathing hitched looking at her. He thought she was beautiful as district scum, he had no idea how beautiful she could be as a Capitol debutante. 

She catches him staring in the mirror and tosses her lipstick down. 

“They’ll be here soon. It’s custom to wait in the living room.”

She rises and spins for him.

“Happy?”

“You look fine,” he dismisses but a glint in her eye tells him she knew how good she looked. 

The doorbell rings as soon as they reach the living room.”

“For a party of a higher standing, we would have servants answer the door. Being as the Plinths are close family friends, I will answer,” he spoke as he walked to the door. 

As soon as it opened, a short woman in a dark green skirt suit popped in. 

“Coryo!” Mrs. Plinth croons and he bends down to her level so she can plant a kiss on his cheek, “We’ve missed you horribly!” 

“I’ve been busy, Ma. With school and work.”

“You mustn't work too hard,” the older lady looks concerned at Coriolanus' schedule. Her eyes softened at his before they caught Mabel out of her peripheral vision.

“Oh dear,” Mr. Plinth had not told her about the special someone Coriolanus wanted them to meet and was surprised to see Mabel standing in the living room. Mr. Plinth smiles as he lingers behind his wife, holding a plate of food. It was a pleasant surprise, one that he knew would make Ma happy.

“Hello,” Mabel greets politely. 

Ma was happy with the surprise, grinning from ear to ear as she walked towards Mabel. 

“My, aren’t you pretty!” Ma compliments. 

“That’s very kind of you,” Mabel returned humbly, “I’m Mabel.” 

Ma pulls Mabel down into a hug, “I am Ma. You can call me Ma!”

Mabel instantly warmed to Ma the same way she warmed to Tigris. Still, Mabel had not passed any test. Impressing Ma was hardly a feat. 

Strabo follows Coriolanus to the living room and holds out the hand that was not carrying a plate. It engulfed Mabel's entire hand as they shook. 

“Strabo Plinth.”

Mabel nods her head back. Coriolanus noticed an instant shift in her demeanor as he approached. 

Her sassy mouth shut, her shoulders dropped, and she kept her head slightly down. 

Coriolanus felt jealous that he did not have the same effect on her. He wondered if it was Strabo’s dark features or large frame that he did not have that produced such a result. 

“Coriolanus never mentioned you.” He could see Strabo drinking Mabel in. He eyes her hungrily as he stands next to his wife. They cloud with darkness, and Coriolanus feels a certain pride. He had what others wanted. The boy in the too-tight shoes came out on top. Snow came out on top.

“He never mentioned me to me either.” Coriolanus’ fingers balled into a fist at her jab. The Plinths looked perplexed at her answer, sharing a glance between them. 

“Can I take that?” Mabel quickly moves on, taking the plate out of Mr Plinth's hands. She uncovers the cloth wrap and looks up in excitement. 

“Are these rock cakes?”

Mrs Plinth laughs, “Yes. You know them?”

“My mother makes them for every birthday.”

Mrs. Plinth looks fondly upon the girl, “My mother used to as well.”

“I’ll put these in the kitchen for later.” 

Coriolanus grabs her arm to stop her from going. Her first fail of the night. 

“Ring the bell and have the maid come out. You don’t enter the kitchen when guests have arrived.” 

Mabel huffs but does as she is told. “There are so many rules in the Capitol. It’s hard to keep up.” Mabel talks squarely to Ma who stands surprised. 

“Yes,” she agrees in a soft voice, “I had trouble at first too.”

“You’re not Capitol?” Mr. Plinth cuts straight to the chase. 

“You’re not Capitol?” Mabel shoots back. 

“Yes,” Ma answered at the same time as Mr. Plinth answered “No.” 

“No,” Mr. Plinth reiterates, “Not anymore.”

Coriolanus finds this time to intervene, “The same is to be said about Mabel.” 

He snakes an arm around her waist and pulls her closer to him. 

“Mabel lives here now. In the Capitol.” 

The maid enters the room and Coriolanus takes the plate off Mabel and passes it to her. 

“Bring it back out with dessert,” he instructs. She bows in response and takes back off into the kitchen. 

“Goodness, what a surprise,” Ma couldn’t hide the look of shock off her face.

“Coriolanus, perhaps it is best if we continue with dinner.” The man puts his hand on his wife's back and urges her forward. She sits at his side and Coriolanus follows suit, pushing Mabel to the table. 

He rings the bell and the first course is brought out. Mabel smiles at the familiar maid but it is not returned. 

“What district are you from?”

“I told you before that we are not district.” Strabo had started to eat his meal and did not look up as he spoke.

Ma sighs answering the question, “We are from District 2.” 

“Oh! I went there once with my father. When they needed workers for the railway developments.”

Just as Coriolanus went to reprimand her, Strabo slams his fist down on the table. 

“No more talk of districts. Eat your food and be quiet.” 

Coriolanus could see a glimmer run across Mabel's eyes. He hoped she could contain it before she embarrassed him. 

“So Coryo,” Ma began, “How’s school going?” 

“I hear you're top of the class,” Strabo added. 

“Yes, sir. Although there is not much competition. Most of the students pay for their place in the university rather than earn it.”

“Have you made any friends yet?” Ma often got Coriolanus confused with Sejanus. Coriolanus was friends with everyone, or at least enough to be able to call upon them for a favor. However, if he said yes, it would start a line of relentless questions. 

“It is difficult with work. I miss a lot of the social events, and I often leave straight after the lecturer has finished.” 

Ma looks upon him with undeserved sympathy. The maid returns from the kitchen with champagne and pours out the glasses. 

“How is work going, Coryo? Dr. Gaul is not too hard on you, I hope.” Ma asks almost meekly. 

She hated that he had followed Dr. Gaul as a  Game maker. She tried for months to pressure Coriolanus into the family business, but he needed to separate himself from the Plinths as much as possible. 

Coriolanus smiles politely back at her, “Fine, Ma.” 

“Oh that’s good,” she answers, taking a bite of her entree. 

“You know, you don’t have to study and work. If you want to focus more on your studies, we would be happy to increase your allowance.” The Plinths had offered several times, to the point the conversation had become dull. 

His allowance was far more than he could spend anyway. He worked to separate himself from the Plinth fortune. One day because of his work and education, he would be president. 

“I like the challenge,” Coriolanus contends. 

“What do you do for work?” Mabel asks. He realized that Mabel doesn’t know a thing about him. 

Coriolanus hesitated to say ‘Gamemaker’. She was in a relatively settled mood. It was sure to disrupt that. 

“I work for Dr. Gaul,” he says instead. 

“Doing what?” she pushes back.

An awkward silence crosses the table.

“Oh, something bad.” she guessed. 

“Mabel, we are having dinner. Eat it or I’ll take it back.” He reaches out under the table and squeezes her thigh in warning. 

“Mabel, what a beautiful dress you are wearing.” Ma was trying to save the night and Coriolanus mentally thanked her for it. 

“Thank you, Ma. So Coryo, do you kick puppies or rip blankets off sick children?”

Coriolanus passes Mabel's plate back to the Maid waiting by the wall to serve drinks. She takes it from him and returns it to the kitchen. 

Strabo gives Coriolanus a head nod of approval. 

Ma clears her throat, “Truly a beautiful dress. Is it one of Tigris’ designs?” 

Mabel nods her head.

“You look fantastic in it.” Strabo comments. 

“And what do you do Mr. Plinth? To earn such respect from Coriolanus?”  Mabel ignores his compliment.

“I am a weapons manufacturer,” Strabo eats quickly. 

She turns to Coriolanus with a glare, “What do you do?” 

“Ma,” Coriolanus ignores her and focuses his attention on his guests, “How’s volunteering at the hospital?” 

Mabel stews over what it could be. While Coriolanus stews over Mabel’s conversation etiquette.  He could not have her talking like that in front of Dr. Gaul, she would be sure to demand Mabel’s tongue. 

He takes her wrists in a tight hold as a warning as he eats and listens to Ma prattle on. 

The first course was done and the plates were cold and empty as Ma finished her tales of working in the hospital. 

Coriolanus offers her a smile as he rings the bell for the next course. It was ready and waiting, coming out almost as soon as the bell was heard. 

Mabel’s servant friend goes to place the dish in front of her but Coriolanus waves it off. 

Mabel looks at him annoyed but doesn’t say anything. Neither do the Plinths. 

They eat in silence while Mabel sits looking at them. 

There was no bread on the table for her to even pick at. 

“Hm, this is good,” Ma tried to break the tension but her cheeks flushed at her words, “Oh I am sorry Mabel. I didn’t-” 

Mabel laughs as if she thought it was funny and Ma unshrinks from herself. 

Her laughing sets the mood of the night back on track and Coriolanus mentally praises himself for making the correct choice to withhold dinner from her. 

Polite conversation passes around the table. Mabel even uses some of the questions and responses learned from her governess. 

He felt proud of his girl. Maybe she would impress Dr. Gaul on reaping day. Maybe Coriolanus was ready to be hailed president of Panem. 

The servants come back and the girl holds the dish of the balled sugar bread known as rock cakes. 

She was silently asking if she was to put it down. 

Coriolanus stares still deciding. 

“Oh Coriolanus, surely she can have dessert. She said rock cakes are her favorite.” Ma pleads. 

“Don’t spoil the girl. She still has lots to learn.” Strabo interjects. 

The decision lay with Coriolanus who allows her to have just one. 

She looked pleased with the decision and it helped to settle her into a better mood. She ate with her hands which would have earned a scolding from Coriolanus if Ma also wasn’t forgoing her utensils. 

He and Strabo choose the cheesecake on offer. 

“If you're free any day Mabel, you should come down to our apartment and I’ll show you how to make them.” 

Mabel perked up at the news but Coriolanus was not pleased with the offer. 

“Maybe once Mabel has settled.” He was quick to respond before Mabel could accept. 

“Oh, of course. There is no rush.” 

Mabel quickly finishes her cake and reaches for another from the plate in the middle. Coriolanus intercepts it and throws it back. 

She huffs but accepts he was serious about only allowing one. 

Strabo finishes his last bite and snaps at the wait staff to take it. 

“Strabo!” his wife chastises.

Another maid brings out a tray of tea and places it in the living room. She takes a small silver box off the tray and brings it over to Coriolanus. She opens the box in front of him showing the cigars. 

He turns to Mabel explaining, “You and Ma will go to the living room now to have tea. Mr. Plinth and I will have our cigars, and join you later on.” 

“I am not one to argue.” Mabel jests, holding out her hand across the table for Ma, who gladly takes it. 

The women were happy together in the living room where the conversation was lighter. Mr. Plinth had moved to take Mabel’s seat next to Coriolanus so they could talk privately. 

“She’s gorgeous. I can see why you sent for her.” Strabo comments. 

“She knows it too. Far too sassy for her own good”. He felt this information was safe with Strabo. 

“Yes. I picked up on that. She needs a strong hand.” 

“Well I am trying, sir, but it’s a fine line between dampening her spirit and extinguishing it completely.” 

Strabo flicks the ash from his cigar into the tray, looking solemnly down at it. 

“I always wondered what would’ve happened if I got Sejanus a woman, if maybe it would’ve refocused his attention,” his eyes flick back to Coriolanus, “A woman like Mabel would have done him wonders I think.” 

Coriolanus felt jealous at just the thought. Sejanus wouldn’t have been able to control Mabel. She would have ended up the family’s avox, eating Ma’s custard. 

But verbally he agreed with Strabo. 

The talk changed to new developments in weaponry and Coriolanus’ teachers that Strabo knew. 

The cigars finished before the tea. The women were too busy talking to finish their cups. 

Mabel had no trouble in conversation with people she deemed worthy of it. 

The men join the living room conversation. 

Strabo went to stand behind his wife and placed a loving hand on her shoulder. 

After Coriolanus poured Ma another cup of tea, he copied Strabo by standing behind Mabel and placing a hand on the back of her neck. She jumps away from him. 

It was not a good look in front of the Plinths and Coriolanus wanted to smack her for embarrassing him but he restrained himself. 

Strabo took it upon himself to compel Mabel into a better attitude. He moves from his wife towards Mabel. 

Strabo takes her shoulders into his hands and rubs up and down her arms. 

“I know how scared you must be. Capitol life can be a tough adjustment. If you ever need anything to help you here. You just let us know.” 

Mabel tore free from his hold, a look of disgust upon her face. 

“Help? From a man who killed his own people for scraps at the Capitol table? I’d rather lay with dogs than take that company.” 

Coriolanus groans at her words. Strabo Plinth was not a man to cross. 

“Oh!” Ma had a hard time with the subject of money and how they required theirs. Her eyes filled with tears and she choked as her throat closed up. 

Mabel reaches out to comfort her, but Ma is taken into the hold of Strabo who demands she go back down to their apartment. 

He leads her to the door, ensuring she gets into the elevator before coming back inside. 

Coriolanus held Mabel’s arm in a tight grip as he scolded her for her behavior. 

Strabo pulled her from Coriolanus and struck Mabel across the face with such force that it knocked her to the ground. 

“Learn what my son did not; submit to the ways of the Capitol or die.”

Mabel glares up at him from the floor, “I’ll tell him you said hello.” 

Before Coriolanus could stop him, Strabo had her by the throat.

‘‘Do you think your beauty will save you?” 

“Strabo,” Coriolanus calls, grabbing the man by the shoulders and pulling him away. It was the first time he had ever used the man's name. 

Mabel gasps for air on the floor.

“I think my beauty will get me killed,” she heaved out. 

Strabo shoves Coriolanus off and straightens back into his sophisticated demeanor. 

“Coriolanus. I am sorry.” Strabo apologizes, “She wasn’t mine to correct”.

“Your wife is waiting for you, Mr. Plinth”, Coriolanus takes the older man to the door by his shoulder, leaving Mabel on the floor. 

Coriolanus closes the door behind them and Strabo turns to him once more. 

“I am not sure what came over me.” 

Coriolanus looks at him bored. It was hardly surprising that Mr. Plinth was a violent man. In so many ways Coriolanus felt understood by Strabo. They could have been father and son in another lifetime. But if they had been, Coriolanus never would have been sent to District 12 and Mabel never would have caught his eye. 

“I apologize for Mabel’s behavior. She was out of line with her comments.”

Strabo nods his head, looking down at his shoes.

“I would prefer it if you didn’t marry her,” Strabo addressed, “You could see how it would reflect upon us.” 

Coriolanus fixed the cuff of his shirt. There would be nothing worse for his reputation than to play son to district-born Plinths and then go and marry a district-born girl. 

“No one will know she is from the districts. I plan to introduce her as a long-lost heiress.” 

“A long lost heiress,” Strabo scoffs, “She’s more district than I am.”

His movements are rash as he pulls on the flaps of his jacket.

“For now. She improves daily.” 

“I thought the same thing about Sejanus and now look where he is.”

He presses the button to the private elevator down to their apartment, “My son would have really liked her.”

There was truth in that comment. Their willful and unshakable values would have made them fast friends. 

“Goodnight, Coriolanus.” Strabo bid entering the elevator. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Plinth”. 

Coriolanus enters back into the apartment to find Mabel had moved off the floor. The experiment had failed and Coriolanus found himself disheartened. She didn’t have long left until the reaping.

He storms to find her in their room. She sat at his desk and tore the pins out of her hair, angrily. 

He takes hold of her ear and pushes her against the wall where he could pin her. 

“Anyone else and your actions would have got you killed tonight.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“I care,” he foolishly admits. 

He pushes off the wall to take off his belt. Spinning Mabel around to face the wall, he lays the belt across her back. 

She yelps as it comes down. The staff in the kitchen would be able to hear her but Coriolanus was so angry with her that appearances didn’t matter. 

He didn’t stop until she was sobbing so hard, it interfered with her breathing. 

“I want you to write an apology to the Plinths before you go to bed.”

Mabel wipes the tears from her face.

“Yes, Coryo.” she bit out. 

With only two weeks before the Reaping, Mabel was nowhere near ready to meet Dr Gaul. 

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[flowerbetweenfangs]

Cream Filling: Chapter 09

This is part of an ongoing series. To read the previous entry, click here.

Elle wasn’t sure how long or fast they flew. The city passing by below was dizzying, and the streetlamps or a passing billboard flared and popped as the wind from Ramses’ wings struck them. 

A few barriers sprung up, their light piercing through the black sky. There was a crackle of power as a few more rituals were attempted, but she couldn’t even begin to wonder what else could possibly be done. The Power was too weak or far away for her to sense. 

Or perhaps Ramses’… No, Mammon's energy was blocking her. 

Judging by the various banners and advertisements of various politicians near the buildings, they were somewhere over the Lucifer district. Or at least on the border of it and Asmodeus. 

In the distance, the werewolf siren blared, announcing that they were out of the darkest part of the night. Elle was impressed, because she hadn’t heard anything by the scream of the wind and the snap of Mammon’s wings as they flapped. Each rumble and grunt of effort he made rumbled through his entire body and went right through her. 

 While it was a few hours until dawn, the thought of the two of them being burned alive by the sun and plummeting to the ground made Elle queasy. That would be her luck, to come so far and then to go back below again. 

Maybe she deserved it. 

 Her hair came loose from its buns and whipped at her face. Despite the tight grip of the tail wrapped around her torso, they still moved with the wind. The constant up and down was making her discombobulated. 

They passed through a cloud. The condensation hissing when it made contact with the gargantuan dragon. His eyes half closed and another rumble followed. The glow from his chest dimmed, and his wings halted. 

Elle screamed as they fell. The whole world went by in a blur, colors muddying together. 

It only lasted a couple seconds, before the fire in his chest blazed bright again, and the wings snapped. Eyes wide, he shook his head and roared. It unleashed another sea of flames from his mouth. The smoke joined with the clouds, before becoming ash and coating the both of them. 

Sputtering, Elle managed to wipe the worst of it off. The embers were cold before even reaching her, but there was no need to make this ride any more uncomfortable. Even though she could still breathe, the tail was tight around her diaphragm and chest, a few rough scales digging into her clothes. Heart pounding, she wondered what she could ask Mammon without setting him off. 

She suddenly felt ashamed. This was… Ramses. She’d never been afraid of him before. 

He’d never given her a reason to. 

But he’d killed Adrian without a second thought. 

The red eyes that had been so soft were now narrowed and shimmering with the glint of a predator. His pupils were constricted, adding to the look.  

Her body shook. Fear, anger, sorrow, and laughter all warred and tried to force their way to the surface. Putting a hand over her face, Elle tried to push everything back. 

Strangely, she hoped that after pulling her palms away, they would be back at the Cafe and this would be some sort of fever dream. They’d safely tuck her into bed and then all would be well the next day. She’d go back to work like nothing ever happened. 

When she spread her fingers, the city still passed in a blur. It grew worse as a few tears began to roll down her cheeks, only to be taken up by the wind. Within seconds, they were streaming down her face. 

The flapping slowed again and they began to glide downward. 

Clutching the tail tight, Elle squeezed her eyes shut. Muscles taut, she braced for a hard impact, body trying to curl in on itself to lessen the blow. 

Instead, they landed softly on a rooftop. It groaned under Mammon’s weight, his footsteps heavy as he tramped across the shingles. Some splintered as they were torn off, the pieces falling to the ground and clattering noisily, the sound echoing in the night. 

With a soft grunt, Mammon jumped to the next building, which was made of steel. It complained a lot less about his mass. Taking a few cautious steps, he slowed to a stop. Sides heaving, he folded his wings and flopped on his side. 

Elle stared at him, mouth opening and closing as she tried to find the breath to ask the barrage of questions swirling around in her mind. 

But she was hit by a buffet of wind. Stumbling back, she landed on her rear with a grunt. Large bat-like wings splayed out, the membrane connecting the bone thin enough to still show the stars through it. 

Each breath he took in stirred the shingles, and each exhale threatened to tear them off. The heat of a flame was just behind his fangs, the scent of ash in the air. 

Groaning, Mammon shifted to stand. His limbs trembled with the effort, the pink glow of Asmodeus’ mark seared into his chest. Orange smoldered around it, black smoke and sparks curling between the two. Tail lashing back and forth, he seemed to right himself and let out a roar. 

Goosebumps covered Elle and her eyes went wide. 

The roar shook the rooftop, and Elle teetered back. The wings flapped, and he rose back up. Their eyes locked for a moment, and she took a few steps forward. 

Blood red with a slit of black stared at her. 

“Wait!” 

Twisting away from Elle, Mammon vanished into the night sky. Pink and black crackled through the air, setting off a few alarms as thresholds began to spring up. Bolts forked through the sky, punctuated by another draconic roar. 

While there were no clouds, the whole sky seemed to go dark. 

Something red whipped through the air. 

The ribbon fell next to Elle, catching on the tiles. The material was scorched and frayed. It must have snagged on his scales when he first took off. 

The same one he’d used to tie back his hair. Small fangs that gripped the fabric, lips dampening it as they stretched into a smile. A laugh would stir it, before it was woven into the strands again. 

Reaching up, Elle let her fingers close around it. 

Bringing a shaking hand to her face, she realized the trembling had spread through her entire body. 

“Miss?”

Elle froze, and saw a woman coming through a door on the rooftop. 

She was dressed in the robes of a Healer, clutching a bag adorned with medical runes. 

Shrinking back, Elle reached for… 

Her hand closed on the empty air in front of her chest. Right. No more charm. She let her hand travel a little higher. A few unraveled strands of silk wrapped around her fingers. Panic gripped her as she looked down. The spider was still intact, but had lost its forelegs. 

“Are you alright?” 

“... where am I?” 

The woman’s face twisted with sympathy and concern, and her eyes flicked over Elle. She approached slowly, hand outstretched like she was attempting to soothe a wounded animal. 

“You’re at the hospital.” 

***

They fussed over her for what felt like ages. Ran so many tests, looked for evidence of a werewolf bite, scoured for the source of the mark on her leg. The skin wasn’t raised, but a magenta swirl now wrapped around her calf and thigh. However, rather than connecting to the scar, the tapered ends were frayed. The gap between the two was a broken bond.

At least Ash had kept his word. 

The maid outfit was ruined. They gave her a pair of scrubs after she pestered them enough. Once she was dressed, she found herself unable to part with the ribbon. She tied it around her throat, right behind the silk spider. It was better than nothing. 

A car came and picked her up once she was cleared. It was surprisingly subtle, a sleek black vehicle with tinted windows.

The window rolled down, revealing a man clad in a flat cap and bowtie. Amber eyes flickered with heart shaped pupils, the iris shaking side to side as he sized her up. His shoulders were bare, and judging from his expression, so was the rest of him.  

“Prince Asmodeus sends his sincerest apologies,” The voice was thick and sweet. His crooked smile showed a forked tongue, both tapered ends pierced. 

“How is everyone?” Elle adjusted her coat, trying to distract herself from the heat building in her chest. Waving a hand in front of her face, she cleared her throat. 

“Recovering.” The incubus bowed his head apologetically, offering her a container of oil Dipping two fingers in it, she dabbed it under her nose and inhaled sharply.

The cool rush of peppermint that followed made her shiver. Just what she needed to quell the heat. 

“The hospital’s visitor hours are over,” The driver continued, his sour expression coming through. “But, of course, the rules will be bent for a Prince… And extended company. We’ll have to go through a special entrance. Everyone’s on guard because… Well, the less than fun bit of piercing happened.”

Sitting in the back seat, Elle watched the city roll by. People still walked on the sidewalks. Voices still broadcast over the radio waves. 

Life went on. 

There was a crowd in front of the Hospital. People from the fully dressed to the naked were gathered. Some held signs, some were trying to catch a glimpse of the Prince within, but all seemed concerned. Guards were stationed at the entrance. Gargoyles had been placed outside the windows, their stony glares daring anyone to try and break in. 

A threshold had somehow managed to spring up. Elle shivered as they went through it. As gooseflesh traveled up her arm, she could feel a headache start to prod at the back of her mind. Rubbing her temples, she dabbed another helping of the oil under her nose. It itched, but it was better than jumping on some poor concubi because the pheromones overwhelmed her. 

Once she was determined to not be using a glamor and approved by the staff, Elle walked through the side door. They gave her a list of four rooms. 

There was laughter coming down the halls. Pausing, she looked through the doorway and saw Horac in a hospital bed. A pair of girls were crammed in there with him. One slept on his chest, clutching a coloring book, the other was laying on his shoulder, looking ready to pass out herself. She was clad in a dirty soccer uniform, still green with grass stains. 

A woman laid on the couch next to him, clad in sweats and a pullover jacket. Judging by the tinny laughter, some sort of sitcom was playing on the television. 

“Rookie,” Horac groaned, holding up his free arm and giving a wave. The girl on his chest stirred, before snuggling closer to him. The one on his arm looked around, before narrowing her eyes curiously at Elle. 

Shuffling into the room, Elle swallowed hard. 

The woman on the couch sat up, instantly alert. Her eyes fell on Elle and narrowed slightly, looking just like the girl’s. 

“Um… Hi.” Elle gave a quick wave. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Pleasure.” The woman said cordially, her eyes frosty. Walking over to Horac, she gently shook the sleeping girl. 

“Izzy, Jojo, why don’t you two go and get yourselves a candy bar from the vending machine,” The smile plastered on her face was sickly sweet. The hair on the back of Elle’s neck stood up.  

The younger girl perked up at the mention of sweets and quickly trotted out after her sister. A nurse, sensing the tension, approached them and herded them down the hall. 

Once they were out of sight and earshot, the woman whirled around to face Elle. If looks could kill, she was at least in the right place for it to happen. 

“Bea,” Horac shook his head. “I know you’re upset-” 

“I’m furious ,” Bea said, the two words containing enough venom to drop a titan. “I told you I never wanted you to go back here. And this-” She gestured broadly to Elle. “Is like a huge slap in the face.” 

Elle and Horac both shared a look of confusion. Their shared expressions made Bea visibly deflate, the anger vanishing from her expression. While the tension could still be cut with a knife, the hostility faded. 

Bea’s mouth opened and closed multiple times, before she sat (well, more collapsed) onto the couch, face buried in her hands. 

Groaning, Horac got out of the bed and stumbled to her side. He seemed unsure of how to approach her, his hands hovering. Finally, he settled for sitting next to her. 

Despite the sobs coming from behind her hands, Bea was statue still. When she pulled her hands away to wipe her face, she weakly swatted Horac. The action had to power behind it, and she sniffed. 

There were so many things Elle wanted to say, to try and make Horac look better. However, the words didn’t come. It must have been horrifying, to get the news that he was in the hospital, after showing up at the one place Bea had likely begged him to never return to. 

Swallowing, Elle felt her shoulders sag. How much progress had she just undone? 

Throwing an arm around Bea, Horac patted her bicep. She leaned into the action, mumbling about how he was a “fucking asshole” under her breath for “making her worry” before she went back to sobbing and clutching him tight. 

Horac fumbled for his apron, which was folded on the table next to his bed. After rummaging through the pocket, he passed the key to his truck over to Elle. 

“It’ll be cheaper than a tow,” He insisted. “I have a feeling I’m… Not going to be driving for a while. Just bring it back with a full tank of gas.” 

“Are you sure?” Elle hissed back. 

“Positive. It’s not like I can ask Spinner or Newbie to do it.” He smiled, before wincing when Bea put weight on his wound. Seizing a bedpan, he heaved into it. The nurse came rushing back in, leading in the girls with a bouquet of chocolate bars. 

The next room on the list was covered with silk curtains. A pair of dark elves stood at attention, wicked looking swords that certainly did not belong at a hospital at their hips. Inhaling sharply, Elle debated simply walking by. Even though she hadn’t done anything wrong, there was still a creeping fair as midnight blue eyes focused on her. 

“Shepard!” Wrecks called from within. 

The guards looked at one another, conversing in their language. It made Elle’s hair stand on end, especially with how one continued to look at her. After a moment, she heard Wrecks call back in the same language. 

It made her jaw clench. 

One guard called back, poking at his throat and miming grabbing something at it. 

Finally, they looked back at her. 

“You may enter.” 

She had a feeling it wasn’t a request. 

The guard pulled back the curtain. As Elle walked through, she saw a large set of legs. Turning, she saw a massive drider woman staring at her. All four pairs of eyes were sharp and glittering, just like the jewelry covering her body. She was older, but didn’t have a wrinkle. The scowl showed sharp cheekbones. 

Wrecks said something in his old tongue, and the drider woman scoffed, before crossing both her arms and forelegs. While she turned away, hair curtaining around her face, Elle could still feel at least one set of eyes on her. 

The drider laid on a cushion on the floor, bandages wrapped around his legs. Whatever salve they had used stank to high heaven. Bits of chitin had flaked off, showing a grey flesh underneath.

 He wore a hospital gown, and there were more wrappings around his chest. He squinted as he looked at Elle, but his eyes twinkled with joy. 

“That’s my mother. She’s uh… Protective.” Wrecks laughed nervously.

The drider woman hissed something back, and Elle winced. 

“Do you want anything from the vending machine?” Wrecks asked, sweat trickling down his brow as he forced a smile. 

“Um… Surprise me.” Elle swallowed and gave a polite wave, hoping her hand didn’t shake.  

The drider woman scoffed and got up, bowing her head as she exited through the curtained off door. 

“She’s uh…” Elle tried to find the right word, but nothing flattering came to mind. 

Who could blame the woman for being so cross? 

“She wanted to let you know her name is Jinx,” Wrecks said gently. 

“Nice to meet you!” Elle called out, knowing the phrase wouldn’t reach the Drider. Sweat trickled down her back, and she felt like a huge weight had been put on her shoulders. 

Slowly, she approached the cushion. Wrecks offered his hand. Grasping his forearm, which was trembling, Elle gave it a squeeze. 

“I was worried when you got snatched up and taken,” Wrecks admitted, his voice finally shaking as the smile finally faded. “I didn’t think Mammon would hurt you, but as a dragon… It’s hard to say. Especially when Asmodeus was so close by.” 

“You knew?” 

“Not about the Ash thing, but-” Wrecks nodded, before frowning. “You didn’t?” 

Shaking her head, Elle knelt next to him. The ground was freezing, especially through the threadbare clothes they had given her. 

Wrecks threw an arm around her, drawing them both together. Fingers tangled in her hair. Head against Wreck’s chest, she felt his heart racing against her cheek. 

“Don’t hurt yourself!” Elle protested, hoping the guards wouldn’t think she was attacking him. Or maybe they were expecting a different kind of visit.  

“I’ll be okay,” Wreck assured her, a genuine smile coming through. A silver sheen of venom shimmered on his lips. “I kind of imagined a more dramatic reunion, but I can’t move three of my legs right now.” 

Elle pulled back and sighed. 

“Wrecks, I–” 

“Don’t apologize,” He insisted, grabbing her by the shoulders and forcing them to look at one another. “You did what you had to do. And I’d go through it again in a heartbeat. You’re worth it.”

He patted his chest, frowning when the normal pack of cigarettes didn’t appear there. Grasping at the air, he sighed and leaned against the wall.  

“Thank you.” She threw her arms around him and pulled him close. Wrecks grunted with pain, and she could feel something damp on her chest. 

Pushing him back, she saw the bandages were spotted with purple. As it blossomed, she could see a few smears on his bare torso. 

“Oh my God!” 

“It’s okay!” Wrecks assured her, although she could see him shivering. The smile stretched thin, and he settled for holding her hand. His grip was tight, like he expected something to come bursting through and wrench them apart. 

Considering how things had gone, she couldn’t blame them. 

“Anyway, they’re going to clear me in the next couple of days… Just in time for the Arachne festival.” He looked down at the wet spot and adjusted the bandages, a task that proved difficult with one hand. 

“For obvious reasons, I won’t be participating this year.” He shuddered and looked toward the doorway. “Those guards are… Going to have their work cut out for them.

“Well,” Elle looked between the two. “If my apartment is still there…” She couldn’t even begin to wrap her head around trying to house an injured drider at her home. He already took up enough space as it was. 

But it would be worth it to keep him safe. 

What were friends for? 

“Yours will be the first place I ask to go to.” Wrecks cupped her cheek. His breath was warm against her lips. 

The curtain billowed dramatically. Jinx came in, clutching a can of some sort of soda in each hand, several in her forelegs. 

They scooted apart, and Wrecks tried to close the gown over the bandages. 

“I’ll… Let you two catch up,” Elle slipped off the bed, steps wobbly as she started to leave the room.  

Jinx offered her one of the leg beverages, and Elle took it, not even looking at it. She mumbled her thanks and scrambled past the guards. 

The black fog coming from another room told Elle she was headed in the right direction. 

An impossibly long black fuzzy tail draped over the doorway. A bipedal creature with a cat’s face and humanoid body fussed at the bed on the floor. Its fingers were tapered to a sharp point, eyes electric blue. A puca. 

Elle was surprised at the form. While certainly feline in appearance, there was something otherworldly to it. 

“ Mam !” Aki insisted, ears flat against his head. He hissed and spat a warning, before his fur stood on end at the sight of Elle. 

Grunting, he hopped off the floor and took a few reeling steps toward Elle, nearly sending them both into the wall. His whole body rumbled with a purr, his tail wrapping tightly around her waist. Rubbing his chin against her, Aki held her tight. 

“Well.” The creature said, its voice neither male or female. 

“This is…” Aki turned them both around, hand circled around her waist. “Elle. My…” He swallowed and licked his lips as he attempted to find the right word to describe their relationship that could be said to parents. “...Coworker.” 

The creature stared at Aki, before rolling her eyes. 

“Aki, dearest, you were never a good Catholic.” She pointedly looked down at herself, then at Elle.. “To be honest, none of us were. I’m not going to punish you for living in sin.” 

“It’s not like that!” Elle and Aki insisted in unison, quickly separating. The cat boy’s eyes were bugged out, his tail thrashing side to side and tangling with various medical supplies. Ears flat, he quickly detangled himself and mumbled under his breath. 

“It’s a shame you found her this late in life.” The Puca continued. “Mo chara would love to see you settling down. I was a bit worried you were hanging out with the wrong crowd with that fox… Not because of him being male, of course, but–” 

“ Mam !” Aki was beet red under his fur. “Polite company!” 

The creature cooed and ruffled Aki’s fur, chattering at him in an ancient tongue. He said something back, rolling his eyes. 

“Are you good?” Aki finally asked. “You scared me back there.” 

“I’m… Okay.” Elle looked out the window at the breaking dawn. 

Rubbing her arm, she hoped that Ramses… no, Mammon , had found somewhere safe to hide away from the light. But then again, as a demon Prince… 

“You must be special if Aki is risking his hide for you,” Mam chimed in, before smirking at Aki when he sputtered in frustration. 

Then, the smile fell and her eyes narrowed. The long tail formed a loose ring around Elle’s feet, slowly shrinking. 

“If you ever endanger my son again, I will be forced to remind everyone how short human lives really are.” 

Stepping between them, Aki scowled at her. Their gazes met, and for a moment it was like there was an actual spark flying between them. 

“I understand you’re worried. But don’t ever say that again,” He hissed, fur bristling. 

“You give away too much of yourself.” Mam retorted, before giving a soft “hmph” and turning away. 

Slowly, Aki faced Elle again. 

“I’d hate to cut it short, but uh…” He pointed up at the ceiling. “Big man upstairs was insistent on seeing you.” 

Looking up, Elle raised a brow. 

“... I mean Asmodeus.” Aki winced, sneezing and sputtering at the attempted use of the Prince’s Name. “Not the other big guy.”

After leaving the room, Elle felt a pang of loneliness. While she was relieved everyone was safe and recovering, it felt strange to see them all with families. While it was nice to see that despite the broken relationships, everyone still came together when things came to a head… 

She hated to be the cause of it. 

They did all this for you… Got hurt and risked everything. Let them enjoy this. 

Going to the elevator, Elle pushed a button that appeared to be recently added. Once her finger pressed the metal, it sent a rush through her. Knees weak, she backed up into the wall and clung to the railing. The container of oil felt heavy in her pocket.

Yanking it out, she gave herself another dose and grunted as her upper lip began to tingle. Her skin was going to be raw when everything was said and done. 

When the doors opened, the hall was surprisingly… Ordinary. It looked like any other hospital. The nurses and staff were dressed normally, eyeing charts or typing away on computers. As Elle walked by, they didn’t react to her presence, not even a quick glance to see who the newcomer was. 

As she took a few steps forward, the image began to distort. Magic squeezed around her like a fist. The world around her began to crack, fractals of color sparking and twisting. Gritting her teeth, Elle held still as she was yanked  forward. 

Mercifully, the trip was short. But even so, she was out of breath when things finally halted. Stumbling forward, she nearly ran face first into the wall. Slapping her arms against it, Elle steadied herself. Panting, she peered through the doorway next to her. 

Brights red and pinks assaulted her eyes. Sheer curtains lined the walls, the symbols on them glowing as they blocked out the sunlight. The ground was covered with blankets and pillows. Judging by the indents in them, they had been previously occupied. Incense had been lit, but the oil kept the scent out of Elle’s nose. 

There was a plush canopy bed, the fabric parted to show a bare chested Ash. 

The blankets seemed to be some sort of silk, pooling around his waist. His hair had been pulled back into a loose bun, and his skin was clammy. The twisted markings across his skin had lost a lot of their color. 

Cadence sat next to him, perched on a chair, scribbling down on a notepad. His skin looked raw, covered with bald patches. There were a few quills coming back in, but he still looked rough. Lifting up a hand, he gave a quick wave, before going back to his note taking. 

“Hello,” Ash’s tone was professional. Lacing his fingers, he placed them on his abdomen.

 “Forgive me for not coming to collect you sooner. But I was…” As his voice trailed off, he pointedly looked down at his stomach. “Occupied.” 

Elle averted her eyes, and let out a breath. It was almost pitiful to see him in such a state. 

“I should have known better,” Ash shrugged, shifting to a more comfortable position. “I was far too gentle when I was attempting to tame Adrian. I admit I was likely feeding him as much as he was me, albeit unintentionally.” 

“That was you being-” Elle cut herself off and shook her head. It was a rabbit hole she was determined to not go down. Their business was finished. 

“He’s back in my circle. I’ll take care of him eventually,” Ash’s eyes twinkled, some life seeping back into them. A mischievous smile graced his lips, the tips of his fangs dragging across them. He not so subtly adjusted the blankets at crotch level, before clearing his throat. “And if some overzealous warlock brings him back to this realm, I’ll be sure to take care of him before he leaves the circle.” 

He turned to Cadence, looking back and forth between the two.

“That being said, I’m glad you’re still in one piece. I doubt I would have heard the end of it if anything happened to you.” A clap echoed in the room as he clasped his hands together. 

“So, you know the big secret. What will you do now?”

She honestly hadn’t thought this far ahead. Given how everything had gone so far off the rails, the thought of trying to even salvage a plan from it hadn’t occurred to her. What would she do? Go back to work like normal? Would the restaurant even be open at this point?

Would he even want to see her again? 

“What’s going to happen to Ram-” Elle caught herself. Right. That wasn’t his name. But… 

She couldn’t picture the kind demon and the wicken dragon being the same creature. Even though she’d seen the transformation.

“Will he be okay?” She finally settled on after a moment of thought. 

Ash and Cadence shared a look. 

“Do you want Cadence to tell you, or should I?” Ash’s smile vanished. He seemed… Surprised by her response. 

Do you want to hear what you want to hear, or the truth?

“Why continue to keep secrets?” Elle felt rage bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Fists clenched, she let the fingernails gouging in her palms keep everything grounded. If she had screwed everything up, then perhaps she could be expecting Ire to come crashing down on her soon enough. 

Would Mammon do something like that? He could have easily done it when he’d had her in his grasp. Then again, the whole thing had happened so fast that her head was still spinning. 

“I don’t know. It’s up to him now,” Ash admitted, giving a noncommittal shrug. “I used the Name as a last resort to stop Adrian from going on a rampage. Not my brightest moment, but I’ve always had a flair for the dramatic. As you can tell, it kind of runs in the family. Mammon is probably at his Hoard.” 

The smile stretched across his face to almost a sneer. 

“Will you be okay? Are you worried about him? That you might lose your job?” He stared at his outstretched fingers, his nails looked like they’d been recently manicured. Still, his eyes kept flicking back to her. Judging. Waiting. Likely wanting to adjust his response to keep the interaction in his control. 

“Or maybe there’s an inkling of a thought in the back of your head that the Prince wants more from his maid?” 

And he was back in her head again. Elle reached for the oil again, despite feeling it dripping down her lips. They stung and she resisted the urge to lick at the offending sensation. 

“It’s not like that and you know it.” She managed through clenched teeth. A few drops tingled on her tongue. 

“Sure. I bet there’s a stadium’s worth of damage for an everyday employee.” Ash snorted, then offered a shrug. “While we do have to do some renovations, there will likely be an opening at Temptation that needs filling.” 

Ash patted the space next to him on the bed, looking bemused at her squirming. “Tell you what, you know how Concubi heal, so why don’t you give an audition right now?” 

He was still on that? Was it really important to steal something from Mammon? 

“You’re an asshole,” The words were out before she could think about them. Maybe it was due to him looking so… Weak. Desperate. 

“I’m a businessman,” Ash tucked his arms behind his head, arching his back and groaning. The motion revealed the scabbing and puckered skin on his stomach. He’d been healed sloppily. There was likely going to be a long recovery ahead of him “Although depending on who you ask, they’re one in the same.” 

“Do you not care about him?” Elle snapped. “He’s your-” 

The words stuck in her throat. It was like all the breath had been sucked out of her. Falling to the ground, she clawed at the air, as if that could somehow draw it back inside. Black spots filled her vision and, for a moment, Elle feared that she was about to go unconscious. 

Just when it felt like her lungs were on fire, the cool air came back. Gulping, she stayed kowtowed on the ground. Vision swimming, she rested her brow against the cool tile, praying for it to come to a stop. 

A hand rested on her shoulder. Cadence slowly helped her up. Once she was standing, he allowed her to lean on him. 

Ash blew a few loose strands of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. Tracing a finger over his face, he tucked them behind his ears. 

“I would advise you to be very careful about what words you throw around. Blood means nothing , if you couldn’t tell from the number I did on Adrian. I am the Original Sin. I will step on any and everyone to keep myself above the Pit.” He looked toward the curtains, then at Cadence.

The Siren’s expression remained stoic, and he continued to write as if nothing happened.

Ash's face softened. After a long pause, he sighed and shook his head. 

“His hoard is in the Lucifer District. He’s likely there, sulking.” Lifting a hand, Ash made a shooing motion. The movements were sharp and his hands shook. From exhaustion or rage, Elle wasn’t going to stick around and find out. 

Nodding, Elle turned to leave the room. Her whole body felt like she’d jammed every joint. Every motion sent a creak and pop through her. 

“Elle.” Ash said, his tone flat. 

She paused, hand resting on the door frame. 

“If you hurt him… You’ve seen what happens when I get angry.” 

Something rattled, and he pulled the drawer next to him open. Pulling out a phone, he tossed it to her. She managed to catch it. 

“I imagine a dragon carrying you around probably wasn’t what your case could handle. It was your boytoy’s idea.” The incubus jerked his head toward Cadence, who was engrossed in the notepad.  

Leaving the room, Elle felt a hand wrap around her wrist. Whirling around, she saw Cadence again. His eyes were… Sad. The corners of his mouth tugged up, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Cadence, I…” 

He nodded, giving her a quick hug. Pecking her on the cheek, he pulled back and stroked it. The tip of his talon brushed against the back of her ear. 

Shivering, she rested her fingers against his wrist. 

They stared at one another, before Cadence pressed a folded up piece of paper against her palm. With a quick nod, he turned on his heel and went back into the room. A curtain pulled, and judging from the noises that followed, Ash was preparing to regain energy.  

Clutching the paper, Elle headed back to the elevator. Once the doors closed, she unfolded the paper. 

There was an address written on it, the symbol of Mammon scribbled underneath. 

***

Driving the truck was different than pulling it through a gate. The pedals were more sensitive than the clunker, and the whole thing was a great deal bigger. After she spent what felt like forever figuring out how to adjust the seat and then actually making it to where she could see, Elle sent a message to everyone that she was going to the Lucifer district. 

Once she was on the road, it was a little bit easier to navigate. Most of the inhabitants of Asmodeus were asleep. But when she got closer to the Lucifer border, the streets became a lot more packed. 

The city was different in the daytime. Guardians were on every corner, and the sidewalks were so packed that one push could send an entire crowd onto the asphalt. It seemed that nearly everyone was wearing professional attire, with a banner of a well dressed politician hanging on nearly every wall. Flyers on every light pole. There seemed to be a sort of election push on each billboard. 

When she pulled into the bank parking lot, the cell phone lit up and began to vibrate. Swallowing, she saw the symbol of Asmodeus appear on the screen, before it began to rotate like it was loading. 

Slipping out of the truck, she walked to the front of the bank. 

It was a massive stone building, held up by seven pillars. Each one was intricately carved with an image of the Demon Princes. Each one clutched their own symbol, hands outstretched as if they intended to hand it over to the person looking at the image. The front doors were stained glass, showing an angel being cast out of heaven, a broken halo twisted around their head like horns. A serpent slithered in the background, eyeing the sight curiously. 

Once she passed through the door, she entered an immaculately clean building. There were wards lining the walls. They hummed with power, blinking different colored lights as staff worked with them. Carts were being shuffled around, along with what looked like gold and jewels. 

There were creatures of every species shuffling around, showing all sorts of artifacts and treasures. The cacophony of language rattled the room and made Elle feel dizzy. 

But not a black dragon to be seen. 

“Lass?” A dwarf asked as he approached. “You look lost.” 

Swallowing, Elle wasn’t even sure what to say. Excuse me, did a large dragon happen to fly in here? Looking like he had the shit kicked out of him and breathing fire? 

“Um…” Slowly, she reached up and touched the ribbon. She should have asked if there was a code or something that indicated what she was here for without being too obvious. 

At the touch of her fingers, the material burst into flame. Gasping, she flung it away from her. Once the material was in the air, it twisted and curled into the symbol of Mammon. 

“A piece of his hoard.” The dwarf adjusted himself and cleared his throat. “You must be the “riches” he was talking about.” 

“Riches?” 

“Something about an old name…” The dwarf waved a hand in front of his face as they walked. “Anyway, I appreciate you coming out here. While this is his hoard, it’s bad for business to have a dragon come in through the ceiling…” 

The back room contained a large safe door, which the dwarf had to unlock through a long series of twists and turns to get the right combo. Each click of a tumbler falling into place echoed through the empty halls and shook the floor. 

Once it was open, coins rolled out and spilled over the floor. Black wisps of smoke billowed, making Elle’s eyes itch and water. The oil residue on her lips burned. Teeth clenched, she forced herself to take a step inside. 

“Now, the threshold of this is strong… So if you don’t mind.” The dwarf mimed closing the door. “There’s also a panic button right next to the entrance. If you need it…” 

Inside the vault was a mountain of coins in nearly every color. Black residue clung to it. 

Ramses rested on top of it, although it looked more like he’d melted into the pile. The ichor dribbled off him, pooling at the bottom of the treasures. He was so still Elle worried he had somehow become a liquid. 

Then, his tail whipped out. 

Lifting it, he brought Elle to his face. Warm breath rolled over her, becoming unbearably hot and itchy. Ramses’ fangs were visible as he panted. They were nearly the length of her hand from wrist to middle fingertip.

A long black tongue, spotted with pink and grey, moved behind the teeth. For a moment, she expected him to speak. 

However, he closed his mouth and set her down. Coins rolled down the pile, clinking as they hit the floor. His tail encircled her tightly again. It didn’t hurt, but she couldn’t move.

 Squirming, she rested her hands on his scales. Steam rose between her fingers, but she didn’t pull them away. A few tears fell and landed in the spaces between, more smoke curling up. She shook, trying to fully wrap her head around the events that had just unfolded. 

The mark of Asmodeus glowed, having lost most of its Power. Shimmering black liquid dripped from his scales. It seeped between the coins, seeming to absorb the scant light in the room rather than reflect it. A coppery scent hung in the air around them. 

As it continued to ooze out, his panting slowed. The heat at her palms began to lessen, and his scales became cold to the touch. Pulling her hands back, she saw they were clean.  

He curled  up , chin resting on the base of his tail. The tip thumped noisily against the ground, his eyes half lidded. They slowly closed, smoke billowing from his mouth as he began to pant again. 

Red and black energy began to circle spots on his body. As his claws kneaded at the coins, scattering even more in the process, the markings began to recede, a few covered up with the symbol of Mammon and what were likely runes of healing. How she wished to have some sort of magic left in her to help him… 

“Mammon,” She said softly. 

His eyes opened wide and, lips pulling back into a snarl. While the sound didn’t escape him, she flinched. As her heart pounded, his expression softened and he turned away from her, huffing a black cloud of smoke out. It hung in the air for a moment, crackling with pink and red that formed the symbols of Asmodeus, before fading away. 

She felt her stomach flip. 

“ Sorry, Ramses,” She tried to keep her voice gentle. “Are you…” 

Swallowing, she wasn’t even sure what to ask him. So many questions swirled around her head. Why was a Demon Prince running a cafe? What was his end game? Did all the brothers have a business? Did he know Ash’s plan? They all began to run together as she tried to pick which ones were important to know now. But her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, gasping for air.

“I’m fine.” The voice that came from the dragon was the one she’d known, but something was too different about the way he spoke. “I knew something would go wrong. These things always do. A demon’s Favor never stops costing the person it’s supposed to benefit. But I couldn’t follow until I knew the bar would be running like normal. I left Chorus all alone, but he understands. He was the only one who knew what I actually was.” 

Ramses closed his eyes again and let out a long sigh, the action seeming to visibly deflate him. Black flames jetted from his mouth, turning orange and illuminating the room when they caught on a brazier in the corner. Scales shimmered and rippled, more sludge pooling around them. 

As it touched Elle’s feet, she felt a wave of heat and smelled tar. Stumbling back, she sat on Ramses’ tail and tucked her legs under her. Some of the residue stuck fast to her shoes but, other than being sticky, didn’t seem to be anything harmful. 

More scales crumbled away, joining the pile of glittering treasures. 

“When I arrived here, I had everything. Money. Gold. Jewels. Clothing. Food. Artifacts. Technology. Cities. If it was a material good, I could get my claws on it. No matter the land, no matter the owner, it would eventually become part of my hoard once I set my mind on having it.” He made a fist, claws digging into his palms. Drops of crimson welled and trickled between his fingers. 

“No matter who I had to hurt, I would get what I wanted.” As the blood dripped onto the sludge, red smoke rose and hissed. There was a metallic scent in the air as Ramses stared at his wound. He seemed perplexed rather than pained by the sight. 

“But that wasn’t enough. Our sins will never be satisfied. When we weren’t terrorizing humans, we would turn on one another or other residents of the Circles. Lucifer’s Pride. Leviathan’s Envy. Belphegor’s Sloth. Satan’s Wrath. Beelzebub’s Gluttony. Asmodeus’ Lust…” He slowly uncurled his fingers, arm shaking as more black flaked off, showing what looked to be spongy flesh beneath. 

“And Mammon’s Greed. I will never stop wanting. It was said I could have the whole world, then I’d burn it all to ashes to start the collection all over again.” 

Elle stared at him as he bowed his head low. He sounded almost… Ashamed. His eyes were watery. Steam formed around them, a few tears that managed to roll quickly evaporated. She found herself frowning. He’d been so generous. So giving. But it had all been a ploy? 

She shouldn’t have been surprised. Nearly every demon, including Ramses himself, had warned her about trusting them. Even if he had helped her get rid of Adrian… Was he no better than Ash? 

Heart pounding, she tried to keep herself from trying to run. She stared at the sludge, her own state of disarray a startling sight. 

“I had allowed my possessions to consume me,” Ramses continued, placing his mangled hand over his glowing chest. More smoke curled up as his face twisted in pain. “The only person I could count on was Chorus, who I had picked because he was a Legion. Many in One body.”

“Rare,” He whispered the word, before a bitter laugh rumbled out of him, shaking the ground. The metallic echo of the coins told her that the quake was likely spreading to the area outside the vault. 

“Asmodeus’ staff was something he treasured. It figured he would collect what he found beautiful and satisfying. Exotic and traveled beauties. Things that seemed ordinary or even ugly to the rest of us, he found exciting. I knew everything had a price. I offered Horac money while he was recovering in the hospital, and he took it. Of course, you know what happened next.” He tried to force a smile, but it quickly faded. 

Elle’s eyes widened at the realization. Of course, they’d told her this before, but to hear it directly from his mouth… 

“I stared at the twisted and mangled form of the Boarman and realized…” Ramses continued, his eyes going half lidded. “He was a rare being, one I had helped create. Someone who had the Demon Prince’s Ire inflicted upon them. 

“While I hadn’t done it myself, I felt responsible and fascinated. I decided then that I would surround myself with rare living things and make them part of my Hoard. A pile of gold isn’t going anywhere unless something acts on it. A living thing can get up and leave anytime it wants. It gave me a sense of purpose that the material goods couldn’t. 

“It’s the same reason I opened the Restaurant. Stories, secrets, the moments shared between one another in a causal setting. So many people would just… Talk to Chorus and me as Bartenders. It was a temporary treasure and trinket that was presented, and I would hold fast to it until they left.” He stared pointedly at the sludge dripping off him. “Unfortunately, I was never good at changing forms, some hints of what I was still seeped through. But that became part of the fun.” 

“Of course, Chorus and I weren’t able to run everything all the time, especially for Sunwalkers. So… I decided to expand my lair and bring in more treasures.” 

He held up his hands, images swirling in the sludge. It bubbled and glowed with heat, a silhouette of a humanoid shape with antlers appearing in the middle. 

“Many in a Body of One.”

An image of a large man, body twisting and morphing into a larger creature, a symbol of Asmodeus glowing on his chest, slowly fading away. 

“Someone Inflicted with Ire.”

Threads twisted and formed into a web, with an eight legged shape resting on it, surrounded by faceless masses. 

“The Intact Drider Male.”

An image of a horse like being, and a two legged cat, meeting in the center and twining their bodies into one. The fusion of the two stood alone, tail flicking back and forth. 

“A Half-Blood from two different Lands…” His voice trailed off as he slowly turned to Elle. 

He reached toward her, the tip of his claw bracing against her chin. A shiver went up her spine and she swallowed. 

“And a human in a sea of monsters.”

Tongue flitting across her lips, Elle put a hand to her chest. As her heart hammered, she saw the images flicker and vanish into puffs of smoke, one by one. It curled around the two of them, making her eyes water. 

“I knew once Asmodeus got wind of ‘my’ human,” He shook his head, a black cloud of smoke jetting from his nostrils, covering them both. It was worse smelling than anything Wrecks had accidentally sent her way, like rotten eggs. 

“It was only a matter of time before he would come around and attempt to do what I’d done to him. I was convinced that I could protect my Hoard, as no one had ever successfully stolen from me before. Vindictiveness is a vice that runs in the family. But I couldn’t help myself. I had set my sights on this.”  

Pulling his hand back, Ramses stared out at the horizon again. He seemed smaller, but didn’t look any closer to his “normal” shape. Or maybe this was his true form and he’d never… 

Her mind started to race as the questions came back full force again. 

“But you stayed. Despite everything, you showed your loyalty to me.” 

“Why didn’t you tell anyone this?” Elle slipped down from his tail and landed in the coin pile. The motion sent more rolling with the sludge. “I’m sure you could have gotten a lot of rare people seeking you out if you just said you wanted–” 

Ramses reached over without looking, and gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist. Bringing Elle to a standing position, he set her down in front of him. Once she was steady, he let her go and curled back up. The piles of sludge around him had started to dry. 

“You would have been targeted by almost anyone. Tanpopo was just the tip of the iceberg. Those who wanted to harm me, those who wanted a Favor, those who wanted to try and pilch from my hoard, even my own brothers…” 

Ramses scratched the back of his head. The motion tore up more scales, and some of his dark hair began to come through again. It spilled out, becoming damp and tangled as it mixed with the sludge. A few stray scales stuck fast to it, but he didn’t seem to care. 

She turned to face him. He’d lowered his head, eyes level with hers. Hot breath rolled over her skin. Reaching up, she rested her forehead against his snout. His lips parted slightly, and she could see the fangs a hair’s width from her skin. 

Their warmth mingled. More snaps and crunches followed. As they echoed, she could feel his form shift and shrink. Sludge and smoke filled the air with choking black. Another gust of wind followed, sending shards of the dried liquid in every direction. 

Resisting the urge to cough, Elle clung tightly to him. Squeezing her eyes shut, she wrapped her arms around him. He returned the embrace, his arms feeling strange without the constant dripping she’d gotten used to. Even though he’d shrunk significantly, he was still so much larger than her.  

Resting his head in the crook of her neck, with half his jaw hanging off the shoulder, Ramses’ body shook. His horn hooked under her armpit, right next to her ribs. Fingers twisted in the fabric of her uniform, tapered fingernails dug into her skin. 

“And I almost lost you anyway.”

“You couldn’t have predicted things going that way,” Elle protested, stepping back from his embrace. Taking his chin in her hands, she forced him to look at her. Her own hands were shaking, smudged with black. Her vision was blurry as hot tears streamed down her face. She could blame it on the smoke, if nothing else. 

“I should have known better. I didn’t think that–” She swallowed hard, looking over her shoulder. 

“Things would go so wrong.” 

It was a good thing they’d drained Elle of all her magic. If she’d continued her studies, even without being a warlock, who knows how many people would have gotten hurt. 

There was no way Ash wouldn’t have been aware of the pain the ritual would cause. Of all his staff in the room, he’d chosen Cadence to be present. Although the Incubus seemed surprised at just how many of them had been affected by the magic. 

“I would have stopped it all sooner,” Ramses confessed, hands resting on the back of hers. He leaned into her touch, body slumping with exhaustion, knees buckling. 

As he knelt in front of her, Power crackled through the air, vanishing just as soon as it formed. His breaths became shallow. Clinging fast to her arms, the Prince rocked side to side. 

Kneeling with him, Elle ignored the pops and snaps as the energy above continued to generate. 

“I had the strength, despite the ritual. But the magic and Power in the air would have gone to the channeling knife or the person holding it. I was amazed Adrian was able to pick it up, let alone use it. With the circle broken, there was no way for me to know where it would have wound up in the case of a Rebound.” 

He snorted, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. 

“Bound by blood, not power. I was worried the ritual was going to involve bleeding you out.” 

Elle winced at the grisly image. There was no doubt in her mind that she would have done it in a heartbeat. At least if there were healers around. Although judging by Ash’s work on Adrian, unpleasant was likely the best she could have hoped for. 

Putting a hand to her chest, she sighed. Heart pounding, she rested her other hand against Mammon- Ramses’- side. Power thrummed under her fingers, but it was far weaker than before. 

“Asmodeus put us all at risk with his stunt. I have a feeling he’s going to want me to repay him for destroying Temptation with myyyyy-” He drug out the word as he struggled to find a way to describe his actions. 

“-Outburst.”  He clutched her hands tightly. The back of his own shimmered as the residue began to form on them again. Steam rolled off his form as his breathing leveled. 

“But I’d do it again a thousand times over. A building can be repaired. Revenue can be repaid. Power eventually regenerates. All his… Props and tools can be replaced.” 

He moved his hands up her arms, cradling her face. The glow from his chest showed watery eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. Wetness dripped onto her shoulders and front. 

“But you… can never be.” 

Elle went to grab his arms, but hesitated as more of the sludge pooled at their feet. 

Chuckling apologetically, Ramses slipped his hands back to her wrists. Eyes flicking back and forth, his body began to go taut. His fingers twitched. While they were loose enough for her to easily break the grip and leave, Elle could see what he wanted more. 

“Should you be alone right now?” Elle rested her hand on the back of his. The wound had closed, a slightly grey bit of scar tissue remaining. Up close, she could see the symbol of Mammon seared into the scales. How much Power had he used to heal himself up? 

“Chorus will be here either before sunrise or after sunset.” Ramses waved a hand through the air dismissively. “Life must go on. The restaurant can’t run itself. Although I imagine I’ll have to start all over if I want to have peace.” 

“What about your brot-” 

A cold chill went through the air. Ramses’ eyes narrowed at the suggestion, the corners of his mouth nearly going to his throat. Shaking his head, and entire body, he blew another puff of smoke. Flapping his wings, sent another wave of wind through the room. Everything began to scatter and hit the walls. 

It seemed no matter the species, there was always a tension between relatives. 

“I’m sorry. I want to keep you. I would give up my entire hoard to make you stay in my possession forever.” A massive claw lifted her chin to face him. The rumble that escaped him shook the entire room. 

“You’re not some shiny coin or even a rare jewel.” The wings flapped harder, markings appearing all over his body as he attempted to tap into Power. 

The mountain began to collapse. 

Elle clutched him tight. Her grip might not have been able to hurt him, but more of the dragon’s hide began to slough off all the same. Power thrummed under her fingers as the hide and sludge mixed, starting to reform as his shape expanded under her fingers. 

It was hot, steam and smoke making her eyes water. The searing heat made her flesh itch, and she had to resist the instinct to let go. 

Wings weakly flapped, before the thin membranes began to tear apart. Ramses grunted with pain, finally allowing himself to collapse into the pile of material goods. 

They both slid down, leaving a trail of scales and ichor behind them. The substance probably provided enough lubrication to take away friction. He was still about twice her size, claws and fangs sharp as before, the heat in his chest still scalding. 

She straddled his torso, grabbing his snout between her singed hands. Her reflection in his eyes was covered with inky black sludge, hair a mess, looking ready to collapse from exhaustion. 

“I still want you around,” She managed to say, forcing a smile. Her cheeks hurt. Heart in her throat, she buried her face in his scales. “I know you’re a good boss. You care about everyone. It doesn’t matter if you see us as a hoard or whatever. You’re ours as much as we are yours.”  

“You’re a greedy lot.” 

“I guess we learned from the best.” 

Twisting her angle, Elle did a rough estimate of where his lips would be and kissed him. Warmth and heat spread through her entire boy. She could feel her lips and skin crack, but she didn’t dare pull back. 

His tail wrapped around her hips and pushed them closer together. Claws gently traced over the back of her head. A shiver went through her as they tangled in her hair. 

The mottled tongue went down her neck and paused at the fabric of her borrowed attire. 

Elle looked over her shoulder at the draconic body below her. This was a whole new territory, but it certainly couldn’t be worse than an ogre or a goliath. The claws would be tricky, for sure.

But that tongue…  

The urge to push everything back down reared its head, but she felt her inner self batting it away. 

Focus! 

She planted a kiss on his snout. There was loud tearing as the claws in her hair moved down. Warm air rolled over her now bare skin as scraps of fabric fell to the floor. Threads clung to Ramses scales as he slowly brought his hand down apologetically. Thankfully, he’d been careful enough to not accidentally scratch her. 

The scaly skin shifted beneath her thighs, and she found herself slipping down his torso. Mammon’s mark glowed bright on his chest, and his eyes gleamed. 

Fangs glistened as he drew his lips back. The tongue lapped at her cheek and bare chest, leaving a viscous trail of saliva. When a decent amount was slathered over her skin, the tip whipped against her nipples. Elle yelped, her back arching at the impact. 

Rumbling followed, and Ramses’ tail wrapped around her hips again, bringing Elle to hang just above his snout. The heat coming off him started to spread through her. She was sure that if he kept her dangling, she’d hear hissing from the arousal dripping down onto him. 

“Mine.” 

His tongue plunged into her. It filled her completely, and she found herself grabbing onto his coils. The white knuckled grip only encouraged him further as the tail wound around her thighs and pulled them apart more. 

Each time Ramses slipped in and out of her, he made sure to find her clit. Sucking and teasing at it between licks, he seemed to revel in her squirming. Each movement to try and move her legs was met with them being pushed back to their original spot. Open and displayed. 

Hopefully the vault walls were soundproof. 

Dragonhide was tough, and Elle was sure her fingernails would give before it did. Still, she clutched him tightly as his tongue lashing continued. Each cry and moan echoed, and she could see the silhouette of herself dancing on the walls. 

There were stories about dragons eating the people they captured. This was certainly going to be one for the books. 

Between his tongue and speed, it was like she was being licked and pounded at the same time. The overstimulation brought her close to the brink quicker than she would have liked, and she felt herself clenching to try and hold it out just a little longer. 

If this was what foreplay is like… How am I going to survive actual fucking? 

Ramses slowed, his tongue slipping out of her. Panting, he lowered her so their eyes locked. Her trembling sex ached. Sweat trickled down her legs as she held them apart. The act made her whole body quiver. Through blurred vision, she reached out and found his hand, wrapping her fingers around one of his. 

Was he going to make her beg for more? It was hard to draw in breath, let alone say anything coherent. 

The clawed fingers barely brushed against her and Elle felt a moment of true fear. Heart racing, she prepared to scream that it was a bad idea and struggled to find her voice. 

He stared at it, the wicked talon glistening in the firelight. His eyes were crimson slits as he brought it close. 

A curious tongue ran over the tip. His pupils shifted between constricting and dilating, before his lips parted. Rumbling laughs sent a vibration through Elle, and she felt her hold on the world start to slip. 

“Why does it feel like each time I’m eating you out, something goes wrong?” 

“Maybe it’s a sign that you’re supposed to get to the main event,” Elle was surprised at her boldness, the words coming out in a slur. She wasn’t even in the post orgasm glow, and here she was being reckless. 

Well, more reckless than usual.  

Lowering her, Ramses set her down near a slightly different patterned set of scales. They shifted and moved, seeming to part right before her eyes. Although to be fair it might have been a combination of the lighting and her own head spinning. 

There was a sheath, and a wet squelching sound as an orange shaft merged from it, streaked with black. Much like the cracks in his humanoid form, it grew brighter and dim with each heartbeat. A few drops had already dribbled out of it and smeared onto his abdomen. It was quite literally the size of her thigh. 

How was she even going to begin to fit something like that inside her? 

Before she could ask, he lifted her up, tail still around her. Slack enough to breathe, but tight enough to feel secure. 

The tip brushed against her folds, and she felt it pulse. The throb parted her, and she slipped down onto it. Her hips rolled on their own, legs attempting to lock around something to draw him all the way inside. 

Ramses clutched her tight, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Each time she slipped him inside, his lips would twitch. His tongue stirred behind his fangs, and she could see his body go taut, shivering with desire. 

“Elle.” His jaws clicked together, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Heat rolled off the single word, and the glow on his chest was brighter than before. 

He filled her quickly, but stopped himself from hilting. When he would come close to slipping out, he’d push her down again. At first, it was an awkward rhythm, mostly testing to see how much would fit before it became painful. After a few testing thrusts, he seemed satisfied. 

Each one was fast, stopping just before she tumbled over the precipice between pain and pleasure. Gasps and moans escaped her, escalating to screams as he seized her arms. Pulling Elle down, Ramses splayed her limbs out across his torso. 

Ear against his chest, Elle listened to his racing heart. Running a hand over the cracks, she allowed the pulsating warmth to wash over her. 

Ramses pressed his hands on her hips, and he began to thrust. They filled her, and she buried her face scales and let the noises of ecstasy finally escape. In the comforting black, she still saw explosions of color as he continued to pound into her. 

Elle couldn’t tell how many orgasms came, but it seemed each thrust managed to send her into a new one. She clamped down on him, trying to hold him fast and milk him dry. 

“R-Ramses,” She panted, eyes starting to water as the edge of pain began to come closer and closer. “P-please!” 

He filled her again, and dripped down her legs. The aftershocks pumped more fluid into her, and it joined the black on the coins. 

There was a loud snap, and the scales parted again, falling in a circle around them. 

Flesh finally peeked through, and a much smaller pair of arms encircled her. The draconic body crumbled away, the much smaller form under it. There was still pink scarring across his skin, but less so than before. 

Chest heaving, he held Elle close to him. Nails still slightly too long to be human grazed against her, but never broke the skin. 

“I am… So sorry,” He looked around at the destruction of the room and hoard. 

“It’s okay,” Elle reassured him, giving a shaking smile. Her whole body was sore and she was going to feel it in the morning, but she still found herself embracing and kissing him. 

As they laid next to the coins to catch her breath, Elle looked at the shredded remains of the outfit from the hospital. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have a spare outfit or two around here, would you?” She shifted, wincing and pulled some coins that had stuck themselves to her skin. “Because I don’t know if I love money that much.” 

“Elle,” Ramses took her hands, his face soft. “I know what I said, and I know what I am, but despite all that talk, you still don’t have to-” 

Putting a finger to his lips, Elle let it rest there. 

“Ramses. We’ve been over this.” She smiled and cupped his cheek. Crimson flared across it. Still, her palm stayed. “I may not be ready to be tied down anytime soon, but…” Her voice trailed off as she tried to find the right way to explain it. 

She loved the restaurant. Maybe not being sore and tired after a rush or standing on her feet all day, but there was a freedom in it. Each day was an adventure for sure. She could spend her money how she wanted (after bills) and it had helped her claw free of debt. The clientele was generous and her coworkers were always there for her. 

Wrecks’ sweetness, Aki’s snark and realism, Horac’s overprotective nature, even Chorus’ teasing all had wormed their way into her heart. 

And Ramses… 

He was all she could ask for in a boss. 

Holding his face tight, she leaned in and kissed him again, letting her lips linger for a long time before she pulled back. 

“I’m yours.” 

You can read the next part here!

[alastor-simp-page]

The Soulmate Curse: Chapter 2

Hah, well here we go! Chapter 2! It gets a little crazy and even angstier, somehow, big time. By the way, the actions of the characters ARE NOT condoned by me.

A fight break out between Alastor, Vaggie, and Lucifer over the whole Alastor and Charlie being soulmates. What is learned is that Alastor is a little shit and a tease. Charlie starts losing it.

Also Lucifer finally finished his line in Hell's Greatest Dad.

No, no, this was a mistake. The chain seemed to tighten around her finger, a reminder. A reminder that–no this wasn’t happening. This was impossible! Yet somehow, he was standing in front of her with a chain connected to her own. That unreadable smile was on his face. That face which hid everything underneath. Was he amused? Was he happy? Was he disappointed?

His eyes narrowed at her. Oh, yeah, he said he was going to kill his soulmate…which was her. She could feel Vaggie’s shaky breaths beside her. The type of deep inhales Vaggie had before they had charged into battle against the First Man himself. 

“Charlie…” Vaggie said her name so quietly. Such a defeated whisper amongst the silence. Then Charlie turned slowly to see everyone, every strange eye fixed on her. And worse, the familiar crimson eyes looked at her: her father.

Dad was the first to stand. No. No! His eyes teemed with hellfire threatening to burn her soulmate down where he stood. 

Alastor. The name bounced around in her head. A name which marred and scratched what little sanity she had left. It was a name she had admired. And now a name she was destined to love. 

Vaggie and Alastor. What the hell was she supposed to do?

Dad huffed, taking in that deep inhale and said voice he rarely used. A voice that made her hair stand on end. “This is a mistake, Alastor,” Her father said while taking a stance with his cane.

“Is it?” Alastor’s smile twisted. That bastard. Her chest flared with rageful heat. He spat, “I didn’t know the King of Hell made mistakes, hm?”

Vaggie leaned forward with brows furrowed and stood up. Her fist shook at her side. Charlie reached out a futile hand to push her away. Vaggie said in a sharp voice, “This is a mistake, Alastor,” Alastor tilted his head at that remark. “She’s my girlfriend.” Her sharp finger pointed at Charlie who cringed away. 

“Uh…guys—” Charlie tried and failed.

“What’s that then, dear Vaggie?” Alastor asked, pointing down to Vaggie’s ring finger. Charlie almost gasped but slammed a hand to her mouth. Wisps of pink were hooked around Vaggie’s ring finger leading out the front door to the beyond. 

Vaggie sputtered, throwing up her hands, “I don’t care if we’re soulmates or not. WE ARE TOGETHER!” Charlie’s girlfriend jabbed a finger at Alastor’s chest. The Radio Demon didn’t even flinch at her futile action.

He simply smiled that horrible, malefic smile of his. Alastor let loose a dramatic sigh, as if Vaggie was throwing a fit, “Well…” his gaze turned to the shell-shocked Charlie. “Why don’t we ask Charlie what she thinks?” 

Charlie gulped. Crimson and gold stared at her, equally entrancing. Blood red eyes that she could drown in if she looked long enough. Gold eyes like the sun she had never seen, warm yet fiery. They both stared, stared, and stared. Too intense. Alastor’s chained hand curled around his microphone as he tilted his head, ears perked as he awaited her. Vaggie had procured her angelic spear and watched Charlie with horrible desperation in her eyes.

She wanted to sink into the ground. Crawl into one of those massive holes in the doomsday district and cry away. No, she straightened her back and stared at them. Her father glared at Alastor from behind the intense duo of Alastor and Vaggie. 

No, but that feeling tugged at her to run. To think. To stop. What the hell was happening? Was there any possible solution? Alastor was her supposed soulmate??? It was the most bizarre thing ever but not truly, he had been helpful with the construction of the hotel, protected the hotel and had always stood by her side. Vaggie was her loyal, reliable girlfriend who would also stand beside her in the face of a powerful force. Yet that was something Alastor did as well.

Her heart screamed to run, and her mind screamed to stay. To face the danger, no not the danger, the complicated situation head on. She hadn’t been a coward when Adam attacked, she couldn’t start being one now. 

Angel Dust whispered to Husk behind her, “Damn, this is getting spicy.” 

Her Dad let out a scoff. His face was heated, flushed and his eyes were gleaming an almost full red. Horns were just peeking out in the mess of his blonde hair. No, no. This was bad. The last thing she needed was her father getting into a brawl with Alastor. She needed to defuse this quickly. 

Charlie clasped her hands and looked everywhere but at Alastor, Vaggie and her father. “Uh…this is awkward,” she said, stating the obvious. 

“Quite,” Alastor agreed. Alastor threw Lucifer a sidelong glance before leaning forward on his microphone towards the flustered Charlie. In that lovely Transatlantic accent he drawled, “Well Charlie darling—”

“DON’T YOU FUCKING CALL HER DARLING YOU TACKY PIECE OF SHIT!” Her father roared. Claws made of fiery rage sprang forward. And the King of Hell lunged at the Radio Demon. 

Read the rest under here!

[dirty-bosmer]

WIP Wedensday

tagged by: @atypicalacademic @mareenavee @lucien-lachance @rainpebble3 @thequeenofthewinter thank you 🥰

tagging: @atypicalacademic (for the new week ❤️) @elavoria @wispstalk @skyrim-forever @gilgamish @throughtrialbyfire @justafoxhound @paraparadigm @miraakulous-cloud-district @nuwanders @kookaburra1701 @ladytanithia @sylvienerevarine @orfeoarte @snowberry-crostata @flymmcargo

Surprisingly, I had something written this time (could hardly believe it :o) From my Skyrim fic, Slither and Writhe:

Morning greeted Sylawen the same way the evening had bid it’s cruel farewell— penniless, clammy, and shivering from fever. She tested her throat with a stiff swallow. It burned. For a long while, she lay still, staring at the brown stain on the ceiling above, attempting to divine her fate in its sprawling limbs. How did I get here? Where did I go so wrong? How do I get out? Please give me a sign. Just one? A fat drop of rainwater landed in the center of her forehead, the roof now thoroughly soaked through. Peeling herself out of the sheets, she found herself still sick, still angry, still very much broke, and promptly rued the day the Nibenese settled Bravil.  Breakfast did little to lift her spirits, a bowl of rice porridge that smelled of sea grass and the bay water’s brine. But food was food, and as she hadn’t the appetite for much until today, she choked down what she could. It was no pan-seared trout, but it had a nutritious taste about it. Bold. A little bitter, the pungent scent of salted fish so strong it bored through even the thick walls of her congestion. Belly full, she paced the room, and once that returned no particularly fruitful ideas, she dug through her pack for her charcoal and sketchbook, ripped out a page, and wrote to Nana. …and so, after such cruel and unusual punishment, I had no choice but to flee. I’m sure you see it as I do, with crystal clarity— if even among family my most important research is reviled, what can a scholarly woman (such as we are) do but find somewhere else to practice?  Alas, I’m afraid it can’t be Bravil, indisposed and indigent as it has left me. If you would be so kind as to enclose a modest sum of say, several hundred septims, I might be able to seek refuge somewhere more conducive to my studies. Or I might even be able to travel to you? Wherever you are… Sylawen addressed it to Anvil, hoping Nana was indeed home, already knowing with a sinking certainty that she’d never return a reply, because of course Nana wasn’t in Anvil. When was she ever? Sylawen should have ran there like she had the last time. At least Anvil was dry. The rest of the day passed in a blur, much of the following day too, and by the fifth morning of her not-vacation in Bravil, there was enough grime under Sylawen’s nails, in her hair, enough mildew choking her lungs to admit she’d made a grievous mistake in fleeing here.  Yet Sylawen would not regret running. To regret was to admit fault, to surrender the righteous anger flaring furnace-red in her belly, and if she had nothing else in her possession, at least she had that. Still, with no wherewithal to run elsewhere and plenty of spite to keep from writing home, she did the only thing she could think of and set out to find help. And preferably a bar of sweet-smelling soap.