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motorsportbarbie13 · 2 days ago

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What's A Soulmate? Part 5

In which two stars finally collide.

Warnings: alcohol use? if you squint. angst (bc of course) but fluffy (finally!!) Pairing: Lando X SainzSister!Reader Word Count: 2.6k words

(a/n: i know i said the timeline was going to be different but i couldn't keep you guys apart any longer. so ENJOY ;))

- What's A Soulmate? - Part 1 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2.5 - What's a Soulmate? - Part 3 - What's a Soulmate? - Part 4 - Master List

Monaco May 2024

“I think I’m going to ask her out.” Max says, leaning against the bar, a smirk playing at the edges of his mouth.

Lando slides his gaze away from where you were standing across the ballroom casually chatting with Oscar and Lily, “What are you on about?”

“Carlos’ sister.” He says, grin growing a bit wider. “We’ve been texting back and forth the last few weeks, she’s gorgeous and funny as fuck. I think I’m going to ask her out.”

Max knew exactly what he was doing, goading a reaction out of Lando. He wasn’t lying though, you had been texting the Red Bull driver back and forth but it was nothing more than friendly banter, with you usually turning the conversation back to Lando and racing within a few minutes. Max knew what the rest of the paddock knew, even if you two idiots were too blind and too scared to admit what was right in front of your faces. So he was willing to goad Lando into action because he was really tired of watching his friend sulk and pout whenever you came into sight.

After Miami, you had kept your distance again, too scared to even examine the feelings that dancing with Lando had brought to the surface. You couldn’t even think of how you felt watching him take the checkered flag either, the swell of pride enough to make your heart skitter to a stop. He wasn’t yours to be proud of, you reminded yourself at least three times a day now. You had to keep your distance to keep yourself safe.

Which is how you find yourself carefully avoiding your best friend during what usually is your favorite race on the calendar: Monaco. Tonight, ahead of media day tomorrow afternoon, the Moto Club de Monaco was hosting a charity gala co-hosted by all ten teams on the grid. All the drivers and most of the staff were there, along with journalists and several a-list celebrities that were in town for the race on Sunday. Lando’s eyes were fastened to the black satin dress that you had chosen tonight though, utterly unable to tear his gaze away from the open backed satin that skimmed your every curve.

“Like fuck you will.” Lando growled, shooting a glare at Max that was pure violence.

“What do you mean?” Max’s voice was all feigned innocence, laughter sitting at the edge of his tone. “You two aren’t dating, are you?”

“We’re just friends.” His tone is miserable thought and Max is loving every bit of this.

“Friends don’t usually stare at friends like that, mate. But, if you’re not going to make a move, I think I will.” Max goes to push off the bar, fully intent on approaching you but he doesn’t even make it two steps before Lando’s yanking him back by the shoulder. Sure, Max could have resisted and probably would have won had he fought Lando even just a little bit but he knew he had made his point. “Oh, is something wrong?”

Lando leveled a stare at his friend that had Max biting back a laugh. “Leave her the fuck alone, Verstappen.”

Something in Lando snapped hearing Max talk about you like that. You’d been texting Max fucking Verstappen for weeks now? One of his biggest rivals on the track? After the mess that had been the club after his Miami win, you’d been cool towards him. He knew why, knew that he had pushed you too far with that almost kiss that he had tried. He still felt stupid, even now three weeks later, that he had tried it when he knew you weren’t there yet. But if you weren’t there with him yet, you sure as fuck weren’t going to be ‘there’ for Max either.

No, he was done. Done waiting. Done being patient. Done waiting for you to get your head out of the clouds and realize that the two of you were…were what, exactly? Friends? More than friends? Whatever you were, he wasn’t having it anymore and shit needed to change and they were going to change tonight. He’d given you enough time and space but he had seen the way you looked at him in Miami when he had hugged you after the race. He had felt the way your fingers gripped at his as he led you to the dance floor at the club later that night. He had seen the way your breath had caught in your throat when he touched you. Nope, he’d had enough of this pretending. He’d lost you once due to his own stupidity and he wasn’t going to lose you again.

Without so much as a goodbye to Max, Lando stalks across the crowded ballroom, ignoring several people saying hello to him or trying to strike up a conversation. He was sure Zak would have his head for that later, but right now he had one thing on his mind: you.

You’re still lost in conversation with Oscar and Lily when he approaches. Your back is turned towards him, all that bare skin serving as a temporary distraction when Lando gets close. But he snaps back to reality quickly, reaching out to take hold of your wrist. Your eyes are wide, almost doe like, when he tugs on your wrist to get you to turn towards him.

“We need to talk.” His voice is low, with an edge to it that has goosebumps skittering up your bare arms.

Your brows hit your hairline as you stare back at him, unfamiliar with the angry man standing in front of you. “Hello, Lando, nice to see you too. I’m doing well this evening, thanks for asking. Everything okay?” The calm in your voice does nothing to sooth his angry nerves. Beside you, Oscar and Lily seem to pick up on what’s happening before you do, their smirks mirroring that of Max’s across the room.

Lando’s shoulders droop at the snap in your tone. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me but we need to talk.” This time, his tone is softer, more placating.

You turn to Oscar and Lily, who are watching the exchange between you two with bemused expressions. “Would you excuse us?” The couple nods and you turn back to Lando, “Lead the way.”

Lando takes your hand in his, tangling his fingers with yours in a way that speaks to how he has this primal need to possess you and your attention right now. The firm grip he’s got on your hand sends your heart hammering against your ribcage. At the back of the opulently decorated ballroom, there’s a large balcony overlooking the marina and downtown Monte Carlo. The city is alive for the Grand Prix this weekend, tourists and residents alike spilling into the night.

Lando leads you over to a quiet corner of the balcony, away from prying eyes and listening ears. The last thing he needed was this conversation to show up on the F1 gossip blogs. It’s cool out now, just cool enough that goosebumps litter your skin when the breeze off the water dances across your bare skin. The scent of the ocean tangles in your hair, sending the smell of your perfume cascading over Lando in a way that mesmerizes him for a brief moment.

He notices your goosebumps then and before he can get anything else out, he shucks off the black tuxedo jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. You immediately shudder against the warmth of the garment, his body heat radiating out from the warm fabric. “Thank you.” You murmur before going quiet again.

“Are you texting Max?”

You tilt your head at Lando, genuinely confused by the question. “What?”

“Verstappen. Are you texting him?”

You don’t miss the pain in Lando’s eyes when he asks you the question. “A bit. Is that what this is about? Because McLaren doesn’t have a policy about fraternizing with anyone, McLaren employee or not.”

Lando nearly groans, this was not going at all how he envisioned it. Not that he had envisioned how he wanted it to go at all. He was kind of flying blind here, all he knew that when Max had said he wanted to ask you out, he had seen red and wanted to get to you before he could. “I know that, I just…fuck.

You reach out, fingers gripping his elbow, with a genuine look of concern on your face. “Lando, what’s going on?”

“You’ve barely spoken to me since Miami.”

You drop his gaze then, unable to look at him any longer. It was true. You were avoiding him because the way you had felt on that dance floor in Miami scared the daylights out of you. “I know.” You whisper, desperately wanting to take a step back.

“I can’t take you hiding from me anymore.” The pain in his voice sends new waves of guilt coursing through you.

“I’m scared.” Your voice is so quiet, Lando almost misses what you say but when it registers, a flood of guilt and anguish flow through his blood. “I’m scared to let you get close again because what happens when you start dating another girl and she gets jealous of me and you walk out of my life again? Your absence broke me, Lan. I don’t know if I could do that again.”

Lando didn’t know if it was possibly to die from a broken heart, but hearing the confession fall from your lips was enough to shatter his heart into a million pieces. He steps forward then, so close you can smell his cologne again and realization rips through you. He’s wearing the cologne you got him back in 2019 for Christmas. Surly, he’d used it all up in those five years since. The familiar scent has your heart aching for a home that you didn’t even know existed. He reaches up, fingers dusting over your cheeks and jawline. He takes it as a win that you don’t step away from him and he nearly cries when your head tilts just the slightest bit into his touch.

“I will never do that to you again, pretty girl.” He murmurs, enjoying the flush that blooms on your cheeks at the nickname.

“How can you know that?”

“Because there has always been three people in any relationship I’ve ever had since I met you. She was threatened by you when she made me choose and she had good reason to be.”

All the air is stolen from your lungs at his words. “Lando…what?”

“I convinced myself that I was doing the right thing, not risking our friendship because I couldn’t fathom my world without you in it and then I went and fucked it all up and had to live my nightmare. I can’t do that again, I can’t risk losing you like that a second time. It was hell the first time and I won’t do it again.”

Lando pauses then, taking another step closer so that your bodies are practically touching. You can feel the heat of his breath fanning across your skin, sending more goosebumps rioting across your skin. The look in his eyes as he takes you in, dragging his gaze from your eyes down to your lips in a slowly sensual move, has something clenching deep in your tummy.

“Lan…” You start, but he holds up a hand.

“No, let me finish. I know that if I don’t risk everything tonight by telling you how madly in love with you I am, I’ll spend the rest of my life in hell without you. I am wildly in love with you and have been since the moment I saw you.”

The weight of his words hang between you, the confession stirring up something inside you that you fight to identify. How many nights had you spent wishing for this moment? Praying that your best friend would confess his love to you? You had a choice to make. The same choice you had in Miami.

But this time, you make the right choice.

Before your head has a chance to catch up with your heart, you find yourself leaning in towards Lando. You feel his breath catch in his throat as his fingers dig into the flesh at your waist, anticipation thrumming back and forth between your two bodies.

The first time your lips touch his it feels like magic. You swear sparks ignite between your mouth and his, so charged is the air between you. Lando freezes for a split second, wholly unprepared for you to kiss him first but that beat of hesitation melts away quickly because the next thing he knows, his fingers are tangling in your hair and he’s hauling you to him. Your lips are as soft and delicious as he’d always imagined they’d be, the sweet taste of the red wine you’d been drinking an intoxicating poison to his soul.

You’re so undeniably delicious, he can’t help but feast. First your lips, licking into your mouth that sends a purr thrumming from deep in your throat. That throat is his next target, as he drags hot, open mouth kisses across the your jaw down towards the hollow between your collar bones. The gold chain around your neck sends shivers up his spine when his tongue skates over the cold metal.

“Lan.” You sigh as he laps his tongue over your suddenly heated skin, dragging your long fingernails through his mop of curls. Allowing yourself to indulge in just touching him, you rake your fingers through his hair an down the thick column of his neck, smirking when he shudders under your touch.

A kiss had never felt so right so quickly in Lando’s entire life. The way you melted into his body, lithe form practically folding into him, set every nerve ending in his body simmering with need. It was like the two of you were made for each other, bodies lining up in sync without even a bit of effort from either of you. Your hands skate up his arms, the fabric of his starched white dress shirt crinkling under your touch while his slip from your hips to just above the rise of your ass, both of you exploring the bodies that had been so close but so out of reach for so long. For Lando, touching you felt strange but familiar at the same time, like having his hands on you was the entire reason he existed. You swear your body sighed the words ‘I’m home’ when Lando kissed you for the first time, suddenly understanding the phrase ‘soulmates’.

When you pull back, Lando whines, whines at the sudden loss of your touch. His swollen lips turn down in a pout as he frowns down at you.

“I love you, Lando Norris. Madly. Deeply. Irrevocably head over heels in love with you too.” You whisper, hoping the returned confession clears the storm clouds from his face. You were right because the moment the words leave your lips, Lando scoops you up, spinning you around as a laugh escapes him.

When he sets you down, you look up at him like he’s hung the moon. And to you, he has. You don’t quite know what snapped in you moments ago but suddenly you realized that you were about to lose the most important person in your life once again and this time, it would be your fault. You both had been so young back then, barely out of your teens, when big decisions with even bigger consequences were made. But life worked in silly ways and it seemed as if the universe had decided your story wasn’t done yet.

“Take me home?” You murmur in Lando’s ear when he pulls you closer to him once again.

“Anything for you, pretty girl.” He says, smirk pulling at his lips as he reaches for your hand.

Story Replies: User938 EXCUSE ME MA'AM YOU CAN'T DROP THIS ON US AND RUN. explain yourself! User9209 mom and dad together fr this time!? CarlosSainz did you two finally get your shit together?! >>>LittlestSainzSis STFU carlos. LandoNorris fuck we look good together baby. >>>LittlestSainzSis <3 pls come back to bed

Tag List:

@anilovessadbooks @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland @chlmtfilms @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @strawberryy-kiwii @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @unknownmystery22 @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream

(I hand did all the tags this time instead of copying and pasting. fic authors how tf are you organizing your tag list so it works!?!? WAH)

#f1 #formula 1 #lando norris #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine

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sweetbunpura · 3 days ago

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After stepping out of Jungleheart Rollo and Savanaclaw sighs

Round 4!

Round 1 - Round 2 - Round 3

Aqualetta

Before anyone even had the ability to ask what happened, Leona shuts them all up.

"She's not there, she's in Aqualetta."

Floyd let out a loud groan. "I don't wanna go there!"

Jade fought to keep his face neutral while Azul adjusted his glasses to hide his grimace.

"Of all the places to be..." He muttered and made his way towards the doorway with a emblem of a singing mermaid on it. "If we're lucky, she'll be in here. Jade, Floyd, and you too, Rollo-san."

Floyd basically dragged his feet as they entered the portal. The sound of seagulls calling and a warm sea breeze hit Rollo as they appeared in the entrance of the dorm. A seaside "town" surrounded the portal and Rollo could see several Aqualetta members milling about in the town square.

"Welcome to Aqualette. Now let's go before they spot us."

Rollo turned his head to see the trio already making their way towards the castle like structure ahead. He quickly followed them as they decided down the white stairs.

"Ahhhhh~" Floyd placed his arms behind his head and turned to look at Rollo. "Why didn't you keep an eye out for Shrimpy, Snapping Turtle?"

Rollo semi-glared at him. "If you recall, I was busying continuing with my community service. I didn't have a chance to call and ask where she was."

"Mmmm, sounds like an excuse."

"You-"

"Now, now." Jade interrupted. "We all know Miss Yuu is quite hard to get a hold of. So it only makes sense that he would lose her."

Rollo bristled. "You nefarious-"

"I don't need my headache to morph into a migraine." Azul sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "So, please settle down."

"Alright/Yes, Azul."

They reached the end of the steps and spotted a red haired man talking to a long haired man with light brown skin.

"Oh, there they are!" The long haired man waved to them. "Hello!"

The group paused as the red head turned to face them with shining aqua-blue eyes and a wide smile. Immediately, Rollo saw the three of them flinch and their shoulders drop as the red head approached them.

"Azul! Oh, it's actually you!"

"Hello, Rielle..."

Rielle circled the three mermen. "Jade and Floyd as well! Nanu! Nanu! These are the guys I was telling you about!"

Rollo moved off to the side as he spotted the grimaces on the mermen faces. This Rielle must be a character in order to get even Jade to make a face at him. Nanu laughed as he approached the man.

"Rielle, by the seven, you still do not seem capable of understanding personal space." Azul grumbled.

"Aw, but last time I had seen you, you were a chubby octopus!" He smiles as Azul freezes. "I'm so proud of you for working it off though!"

"I'm sorry about Rielle. He's been excitable ever since he heard Pua's stories about them." He sticks out his hand to Rollo. "Name's Nanu Coulette, I'm the vice leader here!"

Rollo looked at his hand and shook it, only to jolt at Nanu's strong grip as he shook their hands up and down. He let go and the gray haired man fought to keep from wincing.

"Rielle, come." Nanu pulled him back effortlessly.

"Listen, we came here looking for Shrimpy." Floyd growled. "Is she here or not?"

The dorm and vice frowned and shook their heads.

"She was here earlier." Rielle spoke. "Chen'ya had to leave, so she stayed with us...until Riley came over and invited her to Potential."

Floyd let out a low growl as Jade turned to look at Rollo.

"Forgive me for being so blunt, but have you not thought to call her at any given moment?" Rollo saw Jade's eye twitch.

In all honesty, he hadn't thought to call her due to the chaos of everything and before he could even think of pulling out his phone, Nanu answered.

"Oh, uh, she won't be able to answer."

The air crew cold as four sets of eyes glared menacingly at the vice, who raised his hands up.

"Hey, hey! Chen'ya kept putting in the wrong password and it locked her out for a while. No need to be hostile."

"It's that's all," Jade pulls on the back of Floyd and Azul's jackets before either of them have a chance to throttle Nanu. "We'll be taking our leave then. Goodbye."

The NRC boys departed for the portal before the RSA students could say anything.

"...What does Pua mean?"

"He called her Flower." Floyd asks with a monotone voice.

Rollo was going to strangle the next person to give her a nickname.

#twisted wonderland #rescue from RSA #rollo flamme #floyd leech #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #twst oc #rsa oc #twst rsa #twst fic #thorn answers

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nocasdatsgay · 1 day ago

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A Lesson in Heartbreak

2 of 3: Words are Painful Weapons

Rating: T | Word Count: 3983 | Pairing: Azris/Reader

Summary: Eris and Azriel made promises they didn’t keep. When you confront them about it, Eris says some things he instantly regrets. Now him and Azriel have to fix what they broke.

Neapolitan Bonds Masterlist| Read on A03| Part 1| Read Below

Warnings: Angst, Eris has a sharp tongue, alcohol, drunk!Eris

A/N: HI so… yeah… I am alive. Sorry this took so long. A second shout out to @daycourtofficial for inspiration with Azriel and his comments when he comes back.

Tagging: @myromanempiree @pit-and-the-pen @lilah-asteria @thisblogisaboutabook @hieragalbatorixdottir @mybestfriendmademe @paleidiot @div94 (if you are tagged by accident or want to be tagged in the future, let me know)

“There. A letter to Tarquin and a letter to her.” Eris sent them with a flick of his wrist.

Azriel calmed enough to sit while Eris penned the letters. They needed you to come home so they could talk with you in person. Deep down, Eris was thoroughly embarrassed over the whole situation. Not only at himself but for you leaving to another court. He wondered if this was how Tamlin felt all those years ago, when Feyre ran off to the Night Court. Eris suddenly had empathy for him in retrospect.

He slumped back in his chair and sighed. He needed a stiff drink. But he wanted to be sober if you came home. Azriel sat across from him, arms crossed against his chest and brows furrowed like he did when he was deep in thought. His eyes were still rimmed in red from earlier. The Shadows were nowhere in sight.

“What?” Eris looked at his mate.

Az cut his eyes to Eris, still frowning. “I want you to tell me exactly what you said to her.”

“I’m surprised your shadows didn’t already tell you.” Eris didn’t hold back his eye roll or his sigh. “I don’t fully remember.”

Everything was a blur from earlier. When he got like that, he never remembered what he said.

“Well think fucking harder.” Eris could see Azriel’s fingers dig into his sleeves.

“She came in screaming at me about missing dinner.” It reminded him too much of his mother. The way she would yell at his father when he was a youngling. Eris tried to focus, to put that aside. “I told her the high lord meeting was more important. We were hosting, and.”

After a moment Az said, “And what, Eris”

He cursed under his breath. “I said she would understand that if she had bothered to help. Since she isn’t helping, she doesn't get to complain that we are busy. She knew what she was getting into when we mated.”

Azriel recoiled where he sat. “How could you say that to her?”

“It’s the truth, Azriel.” Eris brushed back his hair with his hand. “This is what it’s like to be mated to a High Lord. We have responsibilities. Yes, I was wrong for implying she didn’t want to help because she asked and I told her she didn’t have to. I admit that.”

Shadows came out as Az replied. “And we made promises we didn’t keep.”

“I know I did. It eats me alive that I broke them but what else am I supposed to do? It’s our first time hosting, I’ve only been High Lord for a decade and a half. She’s worked for multiple courts. She knows these things have to be perfect or others will talk.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t take a break to have dinner with her.” Az countered.

Eris glared at him. “Do not act like you are any better. You weren’t there either.”

He winced. “You’re right. I wasn’t.” Then he glared back. “But maybe I would have been there if you let other people do their job instead of making it our problem.”

“Oh you’re going to blame me?” Eris was on his feet. “By the gods. I’m always your scapegoat because it’s easy to blame me than for you to look in a fucking mirror.”

“Eris.” A warning, as shadows built around him.

“Am I wrong?” Azriel didn’t answer. Eris and his sharp tongue kept going. “You blamed me for centuries when it came to Mor. To this court. To my father. Let’s just add this to it.” He paused. Before he could stop himself he added. “It wouldn’t even be a fucking issue if it was just us.”

Eris felt the shock through the bond from Az before he shut him out. Even the shadows recoiled from around Az.

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t have to repeat myself. We work well together,” he gestured between them, “because we know what to expect from each other. She wants so much more than either of us are capable of.”

Shadows shrunk back again. “That’s not true.”

“It is!” Then words spewed from his mouth like viper venom. “I wish Elain never told us. I wish I never let you get your fucking hopes up, looking for a third bond in every fucking fae you brought to our bed. But I love you, so I let you do it.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Azriel was on his own feet, siphons on his hands flashing. “I always got your consent, you said it was fine. You brought your own-”

Eris’s mouth ran away from him again. He didn’t raise his voice; his tone did the work for him.

“Maybe I lied. I only took other lovers so you wouldn’t feel guilty. I was just trying to make you happy because I was never enough for you. Even the Mother herself knew. She knew I wasn’t enough for you so she sent us her.”

Az looked like he’d been struck. Guilt and insecurity Eris had buried for decades laid out on full display. At that moment Eris hoped Azriel hurt just as much as he did. The silence between them was heavy and loud. It was finally Azriel who spoke, his own words sharp and stinging.

“I never asked to be mated to you. You say this is easier for me and you, but it’s only easy for you. What’s easy is loving her. It’s not my fault you’re too fucked up to know that too.”

Shadows grew thick around him and he winnowed out of the room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You showered and changed into a soft seafoam colored nightgown, given to you by Samira. She was sitting by a small side table reading when you came back into the bedroom. She set her book down and got up from her seat.

“Did you tell him, Tarquin?” You asked.

In your haste to get away, you didn’t think about the implications of your actions. Namely as High Lord’s mate seeking refuge in another court. You liked Tarquin a lot. He was kind and you were so happy when Samira and him hit it off. But he was still a High Lord of another court. Samira didn’t look you in the eyes from where she had sat on the edge of the bed.

“I only told him what you told me.”

“That’s fine,” you said quickly. You got onto the bed and crawled up beside her. “I understand. If you hadn’t told him, I would have.”

“That said,” she put her hand over yours. “You’re here as my guest. Any correspondence will come directly to me unless there is a threat to the court.”

You winced and she gave you a sympathetic look. Your mates were both known for their tempers. Azriel was well known for his impulsive behavior. You prayed to the Mother that neither of them acted irrationally. A hard thing to hope knowing you sealed this room the moment you entered.

“Did you want some tea or do you want to rest for the night?”

“Tea. I need to talk if you’re willing to listen.”

“Always,” she smiled.

You grabbed a light robe and moved into the small sitting room. She waited as Samira had tea brought to the room. She fixed you a cup, and then she sat down and took her own in her hands.

“So what happened?”

You let out a heavy sigh, trying to figure out where to start.

You explained the best you could. How they both made a promise to go to dinner and neither showed. You explained how distant they’d been for months. You explained how Eris told you that dinner wasn’t as important as whatever he was working on with the upcoming summit.

“He said I knew what I was getting into when we mated. As if I’m not managing his court while his nose is stuck in itinerary lists.” You added bitterly.

She winced. “And Azriel? What did he say about all this?”

“He said he was sorry. He lost track of time. Conveniently he was silent when I asked why his shadows didn’t remind him.” You stared down at the tea in your hand. You could feel your eyes water again. “He hasn’t- he has always been more physically affectionate than Eris. Out in public, at least. But he hasn’t even-“

You stopped yourself, your face burning. Samira didn’t need to know how Az hadn’t even called you by a specific pet name in weeks. Eris even longer. And how was you supposed to explain they even stopped just casually touching you? It was childish, to be upset about something so silly. Yet thinking about it just made you cry again.

You wiped your eyes. “It just feels as if they don’t want me anymore.”

“They're your mates, of course they want you.”

“Mates doesn’t always mean love, Samira. They did just fine without me for what? Two decades? Maybe longer. Maybe they miss it just being the two of them.”

“Now you’re talking nonsense. Stop it,” she gave you a pointed look.

“What if it’s the truth?” You were so sick of crying. You sniffled and wiped your eyes. “They know each other so well. What do they need me for?”

They didn’t.

That was your whole issue. They didn’t need you. Eris and Az could practically communicate without words. They moved around each other seamlessly. Eris knew exactly how Az liked his tea. Az knew to move papers closer to the inside of the desk when Eris was on a rant, his hands moving about as he talked. Eris knew when to make the spare room without even asking Azriel if he needed it. You tried to watch, to listen. Five years and you still weren’t in tune with them.

Samira shuffled in her seat, drawing your attention back to her.

“Eris wrote a letter to Tarquin. I got it while you were bathing. It wasn’t much, just him requesting to know if you were here and if so, that you get this.” She held up an envelope with his seal on it. “I wrote back that I would handle communication and you’d be staying the night.”

She laid the letter on the table in front of you. Your chest ached, begging you to open it immediately. You shoved it down.

Samira added, “I informed him that if you want to stay longer, I can’t make you leave. Tarquin has already agreed to allow you to stay as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” you whispered and stared back down at your tea again.

“Sleep on it. You can have breakfast with us and decide what you want to do in the morning.”

You nodded. Sleep sounded nice now that the adrenaline of the evening had crashed. You drained the rest of your tea and bid Samira good night. You left the letter on the table. You’d read it in the morning.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Eris poured himself the stiffest drink he’d had in decades. The shame and embarrassment of everything was still burning in his chest. He downed his drink in one swing and poured another. Both his mates were gone. He walked over to his desk where the correspondence with summer sat. Your friend had written back instead of Tarquin. He downed his second drink.

To make things less complicated, I will be handling correspondence until this is resolved. Unless there is a threat to the court, I will not involve the high lord. I promise I will give her your letter in the morning. She was distraught when she arrived and I’ve just gotten her calmed. She’s currently bathing and I will get her some tea to help her sleep.

There was a break in the letter and she added.

She has yet to tell me what happened fully, but as her friend I am warning you both that you two better make this right. I will try to convince her to return in the morning, but she is a grown female. If she requests to stay, Tarquin has already told me she may.

Eris tossed the letter back onto the desk. He doubted once you found out Az left too that you’d come home. It’s what he deserved.

He was a fool to think he could do this- have two mates. To think he could be any better than his father. Three years mated to you and he still couldn’t control himself. Couldn’t toe the line between work and leisure. Fifteen mated to Az and he still spewed venom in his direction the moment he was cornered. And Eris finally got a taste of his own medicine when Azriel spewed it right back.

With a heavy sigh, Eris pulled out more parchment and ink. There would not be a high lord summit- not with all of this happening. He’d draft the letters and send them in the morning. If he could sleep at all, with no one sharing his bed. He went and made a third drink. He opened his bonds and see if you or Az would respond.

Still shut out. The urge to down that third drink was strong. He needed to be sober in the morning even if he didn’t want to be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Azriel flew until his emotions settled. Eris’s foul words rung in his ears still. ‘I wish Elain never told us’ he’d said. ‘Even the mother herself knew I wasn’t enough for you so she sent her.’

His eyes watered and it wasn’t from the wind in them. There was an ache in his chest- both bonds were shut out. He and Eris fought plenty, before and after they reconciled and the bond snapped. Somehow this was still the worst. He ignored his own words that spewed like venom in response to what Eris had said.

Azriel was angry and hurt. He left- if he stayed any longer the whole Forest House may have been burned to the ground. He circled the border between Autumn and Winter. He couldn't go back, not tonight. He landed in a clearing, stretching out his wings before tucking them back in. He didn’t want to go to Valeris. He had one other option. His shadows seemed to agree, as they circled him and he winnowed.

He landed outside the wards of Rosehall. The fae lights shown through the window.

She is awake. a shadow whispered.

He thought about turning back. He didn’t want to disturb his mother, to bother her with his problems. Yet his feet carried him forward, the wards rippling around him. He tucked his wings in tight and walked to the door. He didn‘t have to knock; the wards were designed to let only few in and to notify her when someone arrived. He could hear the rush of footsteps inside and braced himself as the door opened.

“Azriel?” His mother answered the door, a navy shawl you made for her wrapped tight around her shoulders, sides shaped to accommodate her wings. “What has happened?”

”I had a fight with my mates.” He said quickly. “They’re fine; I just- I couldn’t stay.”

His mother brushed back loose hair to tuck it behind her ear. He realized her hair was half braided. She nodded, and stepped aside to let him in.

“I’m sorry, I can go.”

”Nonsense, come in. I just made tea.”

His shadows swirled past him, one or two weaving around his mother. They always loved her; probably more than him if he was honest. He stepped through the frame and looked around. He had visited two weeks ago and already things had changed. His heart skipped, looking into the sitting room. Feyre had taken to decorating his mother’s house with portraits and paintings. The one above the fireplace was of him and his mother. It was a new one on the wall to the left that wasn’t there two weeks ago that made him stop in his tracks. It was of his mother, himself, you, and Eris. From your mating ceremony, based on the clothing and how close together you all were.

“The High Lady spoils me,” his mother said from his right. “Says my house is too empty. You should see the garden painting she had mounted in the hall a few days ago. Come.”

He felt her hand grab his own. He could only grip back loosely. He didn’t realize how cold his fingers had gotten from flying. If she noticed, she didn’t say. She led him to the kitchen where a kettle sat on the stove. He sat at the small table and watched almost numbly while she gathered cups and poured the tea.

“Zemër, tell me what happened.”

Az looked down at the cup as she sat it in front of him. He wrapped his hands around it, letting the warmth ease the stiffness in his hands. If he was home, Eris would do it for him. He pushed that thought away. He took a few sips, relishing in how the warmth flowed through his chest. His mother waited patiently across from him, braiding the rest of her hair for bed.

“I said some things I shouldn’t have.” His shadows nudged him on the shoulder. “I made a promise and didn’t keep it.” She hummed and tied off her hair. His voice cracked a little when he added. “I don’t know if I can fix it.”

There was a beat of silence and his mother took a sip of her tea. “Why do you think such a thing?”

“Because she left!” He snapped. His mother flinched and shadows hissed at him for raising his voice. “I’m sorry. She left and he- we’ve been so busy and she asked for one dinner and neither of us went. Then she left. And Eris said things. So I said things back.”

He hated that hot tears fell down his cheeks. And that his mother was looking at him with pity. She reached over and took his hand, holding it tightly in her own.

“Words are painful weapons and you are the best warrior in all prythian.” That made Azriel snort and she smiled softly. “This is a fight. Not a war. You haven’t lost yet. They are your mates. You love them. If you haven’t given up your love for them, what makes you think they have so easily given up their love for you?”

She had him there. He gave her hand a squeeze, a gesture of thanks. Then a shadow swirled up his arm quickly.

We must go. He furrowed his brows. He walks to our balcony. We must stop him. We must go. Go.

“Shit.” Azriel winced at himself. He hated cursing in front of his mother. “Mama, I have to go. Thank you. For the tea.”

She watched him stand, not letting go of his hand. “Be careful, my love.”

Despite the tugging of the shadows he gave his mother a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you in two weeks. I promise.”

She nodded and he winnowed away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At some point, Eris wasn’t sure when; he grabbed the whole bottle instead of pouring himself a glass. He couldn’t sleep. Not alone, with his thoughts and past memories hovering around the edges of the bed. They we’re waiting in the dark to grip him when he was most vulnerable. So instead he drank. Drank to numb the emptiness like he used to in the days before.

One minute he was in his chambers and the next he was stumbling up stairs. There were several balconies in the forest house but there was only one nearest to the roof. He built it for Azriel. It had no railings, just a place for him to take off when he went flying. Az swore he didn’t need it; but he still used it. In Eris’s mind, Az would use the balcony when he came back home.

Because he had to come home. You both had to come home. Eris didn’t think he could bear it if you didn’t. It took him a moment when he reached the door to focus enough to grab the handle. Gods, he hadn’t been this drunk since his youth. Pushing into the room, it was bare- save the single old couch, rug, and unlit fireplace. His gaze fixated on the double glass doors that led to the balcony. If he could just get out there, he could wait.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Eris nearly fell over, balance upended by Az’s voice behind him. He grabbed Eris by his shirt to pull him steady. Shadows that had been absent swirled in his vision, grazing his hair and neck as if checking him over. It took a moment for the world to stop spinning and his focus fixated on the male before him.

“You came back,” Eris whispered.

“Of course I did.” Azriel’s nose crinkled at Eris’ breath. “You're drunk.”

“Can’t sleep.” He felt his eyes water. He reached for Azriel’s shoulder but Az held him in place. “I’m sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“Look at me,” Az’s hands were cold as they cradled Eris’ face, forcing him to look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry too.”

“Your hands are cold.” He muttered, his own reaching up to cover them. He wasn’t sober enough to focus his magic like he wanted to.

“They are.” Az gave him a soft smile. “I’ll live.”

Eris frowned. “Why did you come back?”

To Azriel’s credit, he didn’t seem shocked at the question.

“I came back because I love you.” And Azriel meant it.

“But you said-“

“I said it’s not easy.” He paused for a moment. “It’s not easy but I choose you. I will always choose you. Because I love you.”

There was silence between them for a moment.

“She’s not coming back.”

Az grimaced. “Eris, it’s late. She’s safe in Summer and probably sleeping. Like we both should be.”

“But I need her here.” Eris could hardly bear it. He needed you back. He needed to apologize. “Can’t we go get her?”

“So you want to start a war with Summer?” Az’s face was serious but there was a tilt in his voice.

“You’re laughing at me.” Eris replied solemnly.

“You’re drunk. It’s hard not to.” He sighed, his wings slumping and shadows buzzing about them. “Let’s go to bed and sleep this off.”

Eris was silent but seemed to concede. Az guided him out the room and back to their chambers. He would have winnowed if Eris hadn’t been so inebriated. He really didn’t feel like cleaning up vomit.

“You’re too good to me,” Eris muttered as they made their way down the hall.

Az tightened his arm around him. “I could argue the same.”

More silence passed. “Do you think she’ll come back?”

Azriel didn’t reply. He could only hope. His shadows whispered as much as he helped Eris undress in their chamber and get him to bed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In Summer, you tossed and turned. The air was too warm even with the cool magical breeze that floated through the open windows. The bed was too small. Too empty. You finally cast a spell on your blanket and pillows, making them colder. How funny you’d gotten used to Autumn's colder climate.

The spell worked too well. You were suddenly too cold, too cold without Eris and Az’s body heat to keep you warm. Tears fell on your pillow. They were probably sleeping fine without you. Your mind went to the letter you left in the other room. You were too afraid to open it. They probably only wanted you home until after the High Lords’ meeting. Or maybe they never wanted you to come back. You pulled the blanket tight around yourself. Whatever the letter said could wait until morning.

You sighed and tried to go to sleep.

Part 3

#neapolitan bonds #eris vanserra #acotar #azriel #azriel/eris/reader #reader x Azris #part 2 #a lesson in heartbreak

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hidden-poet · 2 days ago

Text

S. lands on top; 6

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, All of the warnings, dead dove do not eat.

Word count: 7,835

chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Coriolanus left Mabel without breakfast the next morning.

He was so angry, he could kill her. But what good would his anger do?

It would break his favorite toy and leave him nothing for it.

Instead he needed to show Mable that her actions amounted to nothing. Best she think she has no effect whatsoever. That all her kicking and screaming did nothing but wear her out.

He tried his best to show this to Dr Gaul too. When he arrived for work, he came with his normal causal presence.

While Coriolanus wanted to forget the night, Dr Gaul wanted to rub his nose in it.

She doesn’t look at him as she passes him in the boardroom. Her failed student wasn’t worth looking at. Wasn’t even worth talking to.

The beautiful bird perched on her shoulder did her talking for her.

It had beautiful blue feathers that looked soft to pet. It’s tail stuck out in show, and it’s beautiful green eyes darted around the room.

The bird looked panicked but sat obediently on her shoulder, despite having the ability to fly away.

“I hope you are all happy with the Reaping ceremony yesterday for it may be your last”, she taunted, sitting down in her chair.

The bird is taken from her shoulder and kept in her hand to stroke. Ths bird gained no joy from the motion, still sitting there with a panicked expression and shaking feathers.

“Who can tell me what was wrong with it?”, she questions. Her eyes fall on Coriolanus who looks down at his blank paper, defeated.

He hoped someone would speak up. Say something that she was sure to disagree with, but at least he would be able to hide under it.

No one spoke. Forcing Coriolanus to engage in the conversation he didn’t want to have. Of course Dr Gaul would make it a public whipping.

“We lost control”, he muttered.

“Hm, how?”, Dr Gaul asks as her finger runs down her bird's beak to show off it’s docility.

“We allowed them to speak freely”, he pushed out in a big breath.

Images of Reaping interview that consisted of crying children and awkward presenters, collided in his head with Mabel's own mistakes.

“Sparks are a dangerous thing, Mr Snow”, Dr Gaul provokes, “We like to think we can contain them but find too late that they have burnt our house down”.

“None of those children have enough spark to incite a rebellion” one of his co-workers interrupts.

Dr Gaul turns to him with a sly smile.

��Of course not, you idiot’, Coriolanus thought, ‘but his Mable did.’

“We only need one of the children to be well liked enough that someone with enough spark does incite a rebellion”, Dr Gaul dismisses with a hard tone.

“Control is what we need” Coriolanus says louder for the group to hear, “Dr Gaul if you give us another chance, we-I can get them to perform how we want them to”.

Dr Gaul eyes her bird. It struggled in her tight grip but never pecked at her for release.

“You can’t bargain with a person who doesn’t know they are beat yet. Instead of interviewing them at the Reaping, we allow them a couple of days for their reality to settle in. Then we give them some media training, and we host a round of interviews for the Capitol to get to know them. Or at least the version we want them to be known as”.

Dr Gaul's condescending smile returns, letting him know he was wrong.

“You think they need time?”, she mocks in a low voice.

“I think they need a reason to perform. The motivation of death can also be a reason for non-conformance. We’ve been asking what have they got to lose, when we should have been asking what have they got to gain?”.

“And what do they have to gain?”

“Maybe we could offer-” a colleague tried to contribute but was cut off my Dr Gaul.

“Those who don’t know of what they speak, shouldn’t speak”, she snaped.

He quieted immediately and fell back into his chair. Once more the attention was back on Coriolanus.

‘’Mercy’’, he breaths. It takes him a second but he musters the courage to look Dr Gaul in the eye.

Her stare unnerves him, but he forces himself to look anyway.

The room is quiet while it waits for Dr Gaul’s reaction.

“Hm, interesting concept, Mr Snow.” she finally says, “Did someone write that down?’’.

“Mercy” she repeats more to herself. The bird is let go but remains on top of the table.

Her eyes roll around the room, looking at all the Gamemakers who shudder in their seats.

Coriolanus couldn’t help to think of Lucy-Grey despite how much he tried to fight against it.

She was a performer. Right to the end.

“I don’t understand how training them like a dog is going to make the games more entertaining”.

The voice was soft and gentle, coming from a female colleague who often came up with the most grotesque ideas.

Coriolanus scoffs at her. He hated people who couldn’t see the bigger picture.

The Games only played a small part in keeping the districts under the Capitol boot. Yet she wanted to focus all of their energy on it.

“It’s not about the Games. It’s about engagement” Coriolanus responded, “Who cares about a District as they come?”.

He felt a sharp twist in his stomach as he said it. Beautiful, strong Mabel caught his eye, and had never left his mind since.

“They are animals,” he states. Mabel’s actions don’t speak against it. Like a wounded animal in a cage, she lashes and bites.

“We need to turn them into something more marketable. Who cares when a roach is squashed? We need people to care. To want to look after them and ensure their survival”.

Coriolanus looks around the room to see his Colleagues all awaiting Dr Gauls input. He makes a point not to look at her like the rest do.

“By doing this, won’t it cause a up-rising within the Capitol?”, another Gamemaker who could not see beyond the Games speaks up.

Coriolanys groans, frustrated that he is lumped together with the same Gamemakers. If he had full control of the Games, he could make them the biggest event of the year. Not some side show holiday that people can take or leave.

But Dr Gaul won’t give it to him, unless he can show he is in control of Mabel.

“It’s not a beauty pageant, it's a dog fight”, Dr Gaul reasons.

The man who asked the question slumped in his chair, muttering agreements that he did not believe.

It was obvious he was trying to stump Coriolanus. But the man had no idea the conversation was just between Dr Gaul and Coriolanus. The group was merely a sounding board between the two.

“The only way we are going to get those children to perform the way we want is through mercy. Act like we tell you and we’ll relent”. Coriolanus finishes.

Dr Gaul suddenly stands up, gaining the attention from the room once more. She moves to the boardroom computer and pulls up a list of the tributes.

Small photos of the twelve that preceded their name and district were casted up on the wall behind Dr Gaul.

Coriolanus eyes the boy from 12. He still had a baby face. Full, round cheeks, and soft brown hair that fell over his forehead. His eyes were big and brown, and thin lips pressed together as if he was about to cry.

Coriolanus imagined the interactions that Mabel had with the boy. Did she ever kiss him? Ever hug him? Did she treat the boy like her own, or keep a friendly distance?

How will she react when he most certainly dies?

“Theory will only get you so far” Dr Gaul contends, “we must put it in practice. Each of you will be assigned a tribute to play up”.

Coriolanus' eyes shut, and an annoyed smile tenses at his lips. He could see where this was going.

“We have mentors. Let them do it”, he speaks out. Trying to claw his way out of the hole Dr Gaul is digging.

“Why, Mr Snow. Every great scientist conducts their own experiments. What would the mentors know of a great show?”, her voice carried a condescending tone.

There was nothing Coriolanus could stop her from giving him the 12 boy, and nothing he could do to stop her taking his 12 girl.

It was only her sick idea of training Coriolanus for presidency that allowed him to keep Mabel after last night.

He had failed Dr Gaul last night, and now she was throwing an extra obstacle in his way of training Mabel.

Dr Gaul would find some way of ensuring that Mabel knew of Coriolanus media training the boy. Poke the fire before Coriolanus could get it to a non-threatening level.

Coriolanus' lips tug into a smug smile. One day he would kill Dr Gaul.

“Shall we dish out tributes randomly?” he bites.

Dr Gaul waves her finger at Coriolanus. It was the only time that anyone had seen her display any other sort of emotion despite boredom.

Her amusement was a stark contrast no matter how small it played across her features.

Her lips sealed together to hold in her smile, her body slightly curled in as if she was about to erupt in whole body laughter.

With a bite of her tongue, she straightens and the lips that held in laughter, now parted to release her normal board tone.

“I have an idea of who I would like with whom”, she snarky replies.

There were 23 gamemakers, and only 12 tributes, so Dr Gaul picked a mixture of people she liked and people she despised.

They were paired to tributes according to their social status to Dr Gaul. The most unmarketable tribute was paired with the Gamemaker who tried to show up Coriolanus just moments before.

The tribute, a girl just shy of eighteen from district 5, had tried to volunteer her young sister. Stating that she had promised to take her place just moments before.

‘Make her a martyr for rebellion’, Coriolanus thought.

Dr Gaul finally gets to district 12 and to no one's surprise, pairs the boy with Coriolanus.

Coriolanus brings his fist up to his lips, trying different angles in his head that he could pawn to Mabel to make her believe he was trying to help the boy.

She was too smart, and too distrustful. She wouldn’t believe anything he would say. She would just have to swallow the news without any sugar coating.

“We’ll hold a national interview next week”, Dr Gaul announces, “You have until then to try this mercy tactic to get them to perform”.

With her dismissal, the Gamemakers move to leave the room in one big herd.

Coriolanus tries eagerly to follow them. The last thing he wanted was to talk openly about Mabel's failure with Dr Gaul.

“Not you, Mr Snow”, he felt his heart sink as she called out for him in front of the others.

A few turn to stare at him as he remains frozen in his spot. He shakes off his nerves as the last person closes the door behind them.

Returning to his seat, he sits with confidence he did not have and looks boldly at Dr Gaul.

She sits down at the head of the table, next to him and picks up her bird once more, stroking the back of its neck.

“You want to talk about a performance?” she remarks, clearly talking about Mabel.

“Last night-” he begins but is cut off by Dr Gaul who hadn’t finished talking.

“She’s everything I hoped she was going to be”, her eyes remain on her bird as she talks and Coriolanus is grateful she can’t see him squirm in his seat.

“Beautiful thing. Smart, stubborn, stupidly unafraid. A great feat for you indeed. I have never seen anything quite like her before”.

Her eyes flick to Coriolanus who stills in his seat.

“She’s an up-rising in herself. Are you sure you can handle that?”.

“Mabel is a spoiled child who got away with acting how she likes because of her beauty. She is only a up-rising because no one has ever told her no. Last night, I assure you, she was told no”.

Dr Gaul once more smiles. But her eyes remain on her bird.

“Do you practice what you preach? Have you shown her mercy?”

Coriolanus thinks back to the train. He had put his own coat over her to keep her warm while she slept on his knee. She didn’t know it of course, so he supposed it didn’t count.

He gives her chocolate as rewards. Although, since the book incident there has been no sweets in the penthouse.

He would hardly say he has been unkind to her. Strict maybe.

Mercy, however, was a high bar to reach.

“She’s clothed, fed, housed”, Coriolanus lists.

“Clothed sometimes”, she quips, “Fed and housed? Lab rats are fed and housed. That’s not mercy, that’s upkeep”.

The bird squawks and Dr Gauls flick its head to shut it up.

“Pretty isn’t she?” Dr Gaul asks, placing the bird into Coirolanus' hold.

He holds it gently, cupping the small clump of soft feathers between his hands.

Dr Gaul continues to stroke its head with her long, pointed finger.

“Mercy keeps her from flying. It knows I can, and have done, unmerciful things to it. It knows that if it tries to fly I will do unmerciful things again, but it trusts that if it does what I want, me, in my mercy, won’t harm it just because I can”.

Dr Gaul pulls her finger away, giving her full attention to Coriolanus.

“If I hurt it no matter what it did, why would it do what I want at all?”.

Her voice suddenly turns hard and low. Her eyes train on the blue bird as she speaks.

“You know it took me months to catch this bird. Stubborn, fast little thing. For the longest time it was my favorite pet I had ever owned”.

Her hands reach out and Coriolanus shuffles his hands lower so Dr Gaul could rest her fingers on its back while her thumbs scratches the bird's neck.

“Then I met Mabel”, with the pressure of her thumbs on the birds neck, she snaps the bone.

Coriolanus should have released the dead bird but felt too shocked to let go of its limp body.

“It pales in comparison”, Dr Gaul rises from her seat and Coriolanus throws the dead bird on the table.

“I do hope our little one on one enlightened you, Mr Snow. Mabel is too rare for you to fail”.

Coriolanus remains sat at the table, staring at the once beautiful bird as Dr Gaul moves on with her day.

Once the initial shock wears off, he rises from his seat and makes his way to his office with an unbothered demeanor.

His head reeled, however. It was clear Dr Gaul wanted to get her hands on Mabel.

She wanted Coriolanus to fail so she could swoop in. But Coriolanus never failed at anything.

Dr Gaul couldn’t have Mabel. She belongs firmly, and utterly to Coriolanus Snow.

He would get Mabel to realise that sooner, or later.

He headed over to the training center after work.

He wanted to get a start with the young boy so he would be ready for the interview.

Coriolanus would play on the heartstrings of the Capitol people. Get them to pour money on the soon to be dead child to make his existence less miserable until he was killed off.

His product came in a cute package, all Coriolanus had to do was feed the young boy a script and the Capitol people would eat out the palm of his hand.

He requested a room alone with the child. They were given the tv room which was large and filled with furniture.

The young boy was kept in chains despite his small frame.

He looked afraid as he entered the room to see the tall and well dressed man that Coriolanus was.

The Peacekeeper pushed him through the door. Coriolanus asks the peacekeeper to leave him and his tribute in peace.

“Hello, James” Coriolanus greets the child as the door is shut.

It didn’t work to ease the boy who kept a long distance and a frightened look.

“I am Coriolanus Snow, and I will be helping you prepare for your interview next week”.

“Interview?’ the young boy asks, “I don’t want to”.

He looked like he was going to cry. His voice broke, and he held his head up to keep back the tears.

“It’ll help you in the Games. People will send you gifts. If you do well enough, I might even be able to get you sweets and chocolate to enjoy”.

A little mercy while he waits to be slaughtered.

The little boy shakes his head. The tears now spill from his eyes fast and fat down his face.

Coriolanus reaches for a handkerchief he always keeps and takes a step forward to give it to the boy.

James jumps back as Coriolanus approaches.

“We are not strangers, you and I”, Coriolanus said.

The boy looks at him in wonder. Not knowing what to expect next.

“I’ve heard all about you from Mabel. Do you remember Mabel, your neighbor?” he asks softly.

The young boy nods his head, bringing his chained hands to rub the tears from his eyes.

“She’s asked me to help you”, it wasn’t entirely a lie, “and you trust Mabel don’t you?”.

The little boy nods again. Coriolanus moves forward to take the young boys chin and wipe his face with the handkerchief.

“Her and I are friends. Which makes me and you friends”, he places the handkerchief back in his breast pocket as he talks in a soft and slow voice, “She’s asked me to help you get as much chocolate as i can. And for me to do that, you need to listen to every word I say, and do exactly as I command, Okay?”.

“Will Mabel-” Coriolanus knew the boy’s question would end asking to see Mabel which he wouldn’t allow happen, so he spoke quickly over him.

‘Mabel will be watching the interview. So we must make her proud”.

The boy settles under the name of a friend, and Coriolanus sits him on the couch to go over the interview.

Coriolanus critiqued everything. From the boy's tone of voice, to how he sat. The boy was receptive. Quickly adjusting to how Coriolanus wanted him to be. That being as small and cute as possible.

Coriolanus soon had enough and with a promise that he would bring chocolate when he visited again, so the boy would know what he was performing for, he left to return to Mabel.

When he returned home the sound of music irritated him.

He followed it to a spare room down the hall. It was mostly a junk room. He remembered he had stored an old music player there just in case he ever needed it for company.

Careful to make no noise, he pushes the door slightly ajar so he could peek through.

Mabel was dancing like she did back in 12. Spinning round and round. Swaying her dress around her as her bare feet thud against the floorboards beneath her.

Despite her circumstances, she moved her body to music she did not like.

She was trying to fit one of lucy-greys old songs to the tune but was making a mess of it with her timing and out of breath voice.

‘Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling, clementine. You are lost and gone forever. Dreadful sorry, clementine” she sings out of tune.

Coriolanus remembered the song. Remembered watching Lucy-Grey dressed up in the nicest rags she had, and too much make-up to sing it up on stage. The song sounded much nicer coming from her lips, but Mabel looked much better signing it.

She spins away, planting her back to the door as she dances with someone not there. Coriolanus takes the distraction to push through the door and make his way to the music player.

He picks the box up and smashes it against the floor. The music makes an awful static noise as it is killed.

Mabel spins back to him. She doesn’t look shocked or startled. Instead a playful and amused expression still dances across her face.

“You could have changed the song” she remarks.

From the top of her gown he could see the harsh, red lines from the cane. She must have been in pain but yet insisted on dancing.

“Dr Gaul asked about you today” he says in a calm manner.

“Good for her”. Mabel keeps her distance across the room like the small boy did.

“Not good for you. You realize I can’t protect you from her”, he admits, “You think I am bad, you have no idea what Dr Gaul is”.

“Scared of her Coryo?” Mabel taunts, “I am not. I’ll protect you”.

“You should be”, Coriolanus argues.

‘‘She can’t do nothing to me that hasn’t already been done”, Mabel spat.

“She can do things to you that you couldn’t even imagine”.

“Let her. What have I got to lose?”. Mabel storms past him out the door, heading back down the hall.

There it is.

She had nothing to lose, everything was already taken from her. Her family, friends, passions, bodily autonomy.

Coriolanus follows her to the living room.

“You should know I’ve ordered Peacekeepers to retrieve your sister from district 12”.

Mabel spins so fast her hair sweeps across her face.

Finally her annoying smug look is replaced with pure dread.

Coriolanus sighs deeply, and shrugs his shoulders.

“What have you got to lose Mabel? Nothing. What do you have to gain? Your sister's life”.

“You’re lying” she states in a tone almost wishing.

Coriolanus shakes his head. “I’ve figured you out Mabel. You’re a glutton for punishment. Dare I say you enjoy it. The more I push you, the harder you push back. But that boy at the reaping…You wouldn’t have begged for your own life but you begged for his”.

Mabel for the first time is silent as the information rushes over her. Coriolanus feels a stinging sensation of power run through him.

“When she arrives, she’ll be placed in an apartment in the building complex for easy access, and every time you step out of line, she’ll suffer. Every time you’re good, she’ll eat”.

He steps closer to her so that they were almost touching. He towers over her, his neck craning so he can look her in the eyes as he speaks.

“I am doing this to protect you. Dr Gaul would ruin you” he promises.

Mabel spits in his face. He feels the warm, wet saliva trickle down.

His eyes close in anger but he begins to laugh.

She was beat. She knew it too.

Instead of a slap, her hand reaches up to wipe the spit away.

“I am sorry” she said, ‘I didn’t mean that”.

Coriolanus opens his eyes to find Mabel looking rightfully worried.

“Please just let her go. I’ll be good”, she promises, “You’ve made your point”.

Coriolanus reaches up to take her face in his hands, yanking her up on her tippy toes so he didn’t have to look so far down.

“You’re so beautiful Mabel”, his thumbs brush against her cheekbones, before moving up to her eyes.

She closes them so he can brush his thumbs against her long eyelashes. She doesn’t open them as he runs them over her eyebrows and down across her lips.

“What a prize you’ll be once your fire is stowed. She called you a rebellion in itself today, and she was right. Who wouldn’t fight for you?”.

“My sister-” she begins but stops herself knowing nothing she could say would sway his mind.

Her eyes remain closed. Not daring to look. It was the first time Coriolanus felt like he had control over Mabel.

How he wished Dr Gaul could see him. He wouldn’t fail. She couldn’t have his Mabel.

“Your sister” Coriolanus repeats, “Do you think you could be good for her?”.

Mabel nods in his hands, eyes still closed.

With his hold on her, he brings her head forward to whisper in her ear.

“Why don’t you put that saliva to good use?”.

He feels the weight of her drop in his hands as she lowers herself to her knees in front of him.

Coriolanus Snow, future president of Panam, and king of mercy.

It was Saturday. A supposed day off for Coriolanus but his mind raced with potential questions that may be asked of James.

He could go later to advise the boy and ensure he had a suitable answer for each question, but for now he forced himself to enjoy laying in bed.

It was late, Coriolanus had never remained in bed, unless he was sick, past seven.

Now the clock almost hits ten and he makes no move to rise.

Mabel lay’s on his chest, covered in nothing but a thin sheet.

Coriolanus had awoken well before seven at which point he had woken Mabel with the weight of his body curled around her, and kisses that spoke of his need.

Her mind too, seemed to race as she lay there.

“What color hair does my sister have?”, she asks.

“What?” Coriolanus asks as Mabel rises from his hold, bringing the thin sheet with her.

“It’s occurred to me that I have taken you at nothing but your word. You are a liar and a thief. How do I know you really have my sister?”.

Coriolanus’s wonderful morning was now ruined. Mabel had been so perfect the past few days and now the spell had been broken.

He rises from the bed, going over to his wardrobe to get dressed as he speaks.

“Do you want to see her?” He offers.

“Yes”, Mabel commands.

Dropping the sheet, she hurriedly dresses in the same green dress she always wears.

Coriolanus takes his time, flipping through his large wardrobe to find a shirt.

Mabel pushes past him, grabbing the first shirt she sees and shoving it at Coriolanus.

He backhands her for it and she tumbles to the ground in a heap.

“I was going to say we could bring her breakfast but it seems neither of you will be eating this morning”, he taunts.

This time she waits on the floor for him to choose a shirt. He lays it on the bed before going back to pick pants and shoes.

When he begins to dress into his pants, Mabel rises from the floor and takes the hem of his pants into her hands.

He lets her do so, dropping his hands to his side and watching her under a curious gaze.

She helps him dress into his shirt and shoes. She never once looks at him and he never once looks away.

He knew that she was trying to dress him as fast as she could so she could see her sister. But there's a domestication to it that Coriolanus loved.

He leaves the room wordlessly and she follows him out of the apartment and into the elevator. He only stops to grab his coat and keys. Mabel knew it would only be a quick visit before he left for the day.

Level 3, she commits to memory.

Coriolanus seemed too relaxed to be showing her. He seemed almost bored to be showing her.

Mabel knew that Coriolanus had her sister. She didn’t know that he would be so quick to show it. She had prepared herself for a series of nagging before he relented and either showed her where her sister was kept or brought her sister up to her.

Knowing where her sister was kept was the first step in forming a plan to get her out. Coriolanus gave it up too easy.

He was a smart man but too egotistical.

A week of playing docile and he had forgotten the threat Mabel posed.

The third level opened to a long hall but only one door. She followed Coriolanus to it where he dug through his pocket for his keys.

Finding the right one he held it out for Mabel to take. She takes careful note of which key it was and inserts it in the lock.

“After you” he states.

Mabel felt as if she could throw up as she twisted the key in the lock.

The apartment is empty and for a second she thinks Coriolanus had played a terrible joke on her.

He pushes her into the apartment and the door locks behind them.

“Livy!” Mabel called for her sister, “Livy!”.

A shuffling noise is held and a small body dashes out from a cupboard.

Mabel drops to her knees to retrieve her sister who shoots into her arms.

Her name could be heard from her sister's small voice between large sobs.

“It’s okay” Mabel promises, “Oh god’.

Livy was barely 6 and could easily be picked up by Mabel who distanced her and her sister from Coriolanus.

“I’ve never lied to you, Mabel,” Coriolanus stated.

Mabel nods, “No, you haven’t”.

“So let’s go”, he nods back to the door.

Mabel walks to the door with her sister in her arms but is stopped by Coriolanus.

“I can’t leave her”, Mabel begs.

“Find a way”, he retorts.

Mabel knew it was for the best. She could figure a way to get her sister out. The Penthouse was too secure.

Coriolanus was too preoccupied with keeping Mabel there.

Escape was impossible there but a level unguarded and only one lock to get through? Mabel could get through that.

She places her sister down despite her screaming. A plan was already forming in her head.

“I’ll be back” she promises. She wipes the tears away from her sisters eyes and places a kiss on her head.

“You’re safe and I’ll be back”, she reiterated.

Livly grabs hold of Mabel's leg, begging her to stay and take her home.

Mabel tries words, bending down and rubbing her sisters back as she spoke.

Coriolanus, tired of the scene, used force to separate the two.

Mabel tries to fight off his hold from her sister, to pull her close once more but Coriolanus tore her from Mabel’s grip and took the squirming girl over to the couch where she was thrown on the soft cushions.

Mabel followed close behind so as soon as his hands were free of Livy, he took hold of Mabel’s arm and pushed her back out the door.

The little girls cries could be heard from behind the door. It was an unbearable minute that it took for Coriolanus to remove the key from the lock and retreat back to the elevator.

The big metal door shut out the sound completely, but brought Mabel back to the front entrance of her prison.

The security measures were more complex and Mabel stood stunned while Coriolanus went through them all.

The door finally opened and Mabel was flung inside.

Despite her sadness and anger, Mabel did not cry as she was tossed to the hard floor.

She rolls on her back and looks up to the high ceiling forming a plan in her head.

—-------------------

Coriolanus spends the rest of the day with the boy.

He had forgotten the chocolate promised.

The boy took the news hard, but sensing that Coriolanus was already irritated he kept his disappointment to himself.

They went over questions that Coriolanus formed. Even spent an hour just practicing the walk from the curtain to the stage.

Everything was crucial to the performance. One mistake could cost Coriolanus having the most popular tribute.

Coriolanus was nothing if not a perfectionist.

The other Game makers visited their tributes at the training house. A Saturday couldn’t be wasted with friends and family. Not if Dr Gaul was involved.

Still they broke for lunch at an expensive restaurant in the city. Coriolanus was glad for the distraction.

They spoke of the impossible task of making the tributes ready for the interview.A few even spoke of their persona they were going to push.

No one but Coriolanus wanted their tribute to seem weak. James would have no problem standing out.

The news lightened Coriolanus who stopped by the shops on the way back to the training house to pick up the chocolate promised to the boy.

When he did return home, the smell of burning filled his nose.

He rushed to the kitchen where pots could be heard clanging together.

Mabel was there, covered in flour and bending to take a burnt cake from the oven.

“What are you doing?” he asks angrily.

“Oh you’re home” Mabel says in a soft voice, “I am sorry. I didn’t hear the door open”.

She places the cake next to several others. All of them were no good. Burnt, sagged, or an off color.

With her hands free she walks over to Coriolanus wiping her hands on her dress and taking his coat from his shoulders.

“I wanted to have something nice for you to eat when you got home, but I have never been a good cook. And that was with ingredients and kitchen stuff I knew”.

“Don’t over-exert yourself. I have no need for you to cook” he says cautiously, watching her hang up his coat.

“I know”, she states turning to look at him, “I just wanted to show you that I have changed. I’ve been thinking all day how foolish I’ve been”.

She walks slowly over to him, ringing her hands together.

“If I wasn’t so foolish, Livy wouldn’t be here”, she continued, stopping in front of Coriolanus.

“I mean really I didn’t even mind that”, she doesn’t finish her sentence but looks up at Coriolanus.

“I didn’t really mind you. But I fought against you anyway and it cost my parents both of their daughters”.

“And you thought cake would solve that?” he mocks.

“From where I am from, cake is how we show remorse” she wraps her arms around his stiff frame.

He didn’t let her remain, pulling her hands away just after they landed.

“I have work to do. Clean up your mess”, he demand.

Coriolanus locks himself in his study. He could feel his resolve slipping as she buttered him up. It was important now, more than ever, that he remained in charge. But she had a funny way of turning his knees weak.

He avoided her until dinner where they ate in silence.

She tried to make conversation with him. Batting her eyelashes like he used to watch her do to other men.

He slightly enjoyed watching her try to gain his attention. As a peacekeeper he used to beg for it to happen every night at the Hobb.

His ignorance of her, only grew her attempts. She sat next to him and not across from him. Asked him question after question until she realized she wouldn’t get an answer.

“Coriolanus, I am trying” she finally said.

He ignored her still, taking a piece of bread from the table.

“Hey” she complained. Her hand reached out to touch his chest and he dropped the piece of bread to grab her wrist.

Not touch. One thing he couldn’t ignore was her touching him.

It felt like fire every time. He longed for it, he couldn’t ignore it.

He shoves her hand away, quickly rising from the chair and storming off.

He took a shower alone. Something he hadn’t done for a while now.

Of course, he was going to give in to Mabel and her new way. He would be crazy not to.

But watching her pine for him as he had pined for her was satisfying.

Once again the order of things was returning.

When he returned to the bedroom he saw her laying on the bed in his nightwear. The oversized bed shirt and old boxes that slipped down her frame.

She was doing her homework. She doesn’t look up at him or speak as he enters the room.

He scoffs quietly, now she is sulking.

He picks up the book he is currently reading and enters the bed without a word.

They remain like that with Mabel doing her work and Coriolanus reading his book.

He gets four chapters in before Mabel disturbs him by thrusting her paper over his book.

“Do you want to check it?” she asks. Normally he would and her nightmare lesson would begin again until she got it.

He knocks the paper out off the road with his book so he could return to his reading.

“No,” he states.

“Good. I am pretty sure it’s wrong” she jests.

She throws the paper to the ground which was something Coriolanus would normally scold her for but he can’t ignore her if he is scolding her.

He also can’t ignore her when she places her body across his legs.

She lays on top of him. Her head reaches his stomach where she pushes up the fabric of his pajama shirt and places three small kisses on his stomach.

His eyes shut briefly from the thrill of it. His stomach tied in knots under her.

The book is moved to the left, it hangs loosely in his hand over the bed.

Without the book blocking her, she grins at Coriolanus. Knowing how irresistible she was.

His spare hand reaches down to cup the back of her head, looking down at her in disbelief.

Her fingers loop around the waistband of his pants, wordlessly asking for permission. It’s given when he raises his hips to accommodate her and the book drops from his hand.

Coriolanus sleeps soundly that night.

Mable had given him a massage after riding him long and hard.

She was surprised by how quickly he had fallen asleep. His hair splayed out across the pillow as he lay on his stomach, his hands under his pillow as Mabel digs her hands into the mussels of his shoulders.

She snaps her fingers a few times in his ear to ensure he was asleep before sliding off him and dressing in his dressing gown.

As slightly as she can she sneaks down the hallway to where he kept his keys by the front door. The door in front of her required more than a key to get in so he felt no threat leaving them there.

She slides out the draw of the hallway cupboard to retrieve the key she hid earlier. It was the closest match she could find.

It wouldn’t fool him if he looked but she would just have to make sure he never looked.

The key to her sisters door is taken off and the decoy is returned in its place.

She moves to the kitchen next, taking out the wet cake mixture from the fridge and sinking the key to the bottom. The cake was small; it would only take a few cuts to find it.

Slowly and carefully to avoid making noise she places the cake in the oven and sits in front of it watching it bake.

Coriolanus woke with the feeling of his hair being pushed back.

His eyes flick open to see Mabel laying on her side next to him. A heavenly sight to see first thing.

He had almost convinced himself it was all a dream last night.

“Morning. The kitchen staff need to be let into the knife draw. He keeps pointing at it”, she says.

He rolls over to check the clock. Quarter to 8.

He shouldn’t have slept in. No matter how peaceful his sleep was.

With a groan he rolls out of bed and Mabel jumps down next to him.

“I told them to prepare the food downstairs,” He said, annoyed.

He notices she was wearing his dressing gown. It incites a need to have it for himself. To feel her warmth against his body.

He spins her by her shoulders so he could slide the dressing gown off and put it around himself.

She makes no complaints as he does so. Running back to the wardrobe to get another to protect herself from the cold.

“Put your slippers on. It's cold this morning” he demands but does not follow the same advice.

Coriolanus had so many clothes and shoes it made it hard to find anything among it, but eventually she finds her slippers wedged between the cupboard wall and a shoe rack.

She turns to find Coriolanus had left the room. She follows him to the kitchen where a frightened chef watches as Coriolanus unlocked the knife drawer.

“Don’t let it happen again” he warns the Chef who nods his head in agreement.

His eyes shoot out at Mabel as if she was a traitor but surely he must realize who the knife drawer was locked from.

Coriolanus stayed in the kitchen until the Chef was done, and another servant washed, dried and returned the knife so the drawer could be locked once more.

Mabel waves at her friend as the girl rushes past to plate up the food.

No wave is returned, but Mabel smiles anyway. From the corner of her eye she could see Coriolanus glance at his keys with a curious expression.

She dashes over taking hold of his arm and tugging him forward.

It worked to distract him. The keys were placed down and he willingly followed Mabel to the table.

“You’re in a good mood this morning” he comments.

She pushes him into the chair by his shoulders and climbs on top of him.

“You’re in a bad mood this morning” she replied, “can’t say that’s ever happened to me before”.

Her fingers card through his hair and he leans back into his chair.

“I bet it hasn’t” he remarks.

The servants come to display the food on the table. Coriolanus takes his hands from her waist expecting her to get up but she remains.

She does swing her legs out from either side of him so she was sat on one side.

Thanking them as they place the food, Mabel reaches out for a bacon strip and eats half of it before offering it to Coriolanus.

He denies being fed. Leaning forward himself to plate his own food.

Did she think he was a fool? He thought to himself. Was she deluded enough to think Coriolanus would buy this change of heart act?

She played the part for the benefit of her sister, he understood that.

Still felt somewhat rewarding to reap the benefit of his hard work, so he was hesitant to call her on it.

She yawns as he reaches for his cup of coffee.

“Did you not sleep well last night?” he asks her before taking a sip.

Mabel thinks back to the cake with a sly smile.

“Best night sleep I’ve had in a while actually”, she answers honestly.

Mabel looked best when she had just woken. Coriolanus had always thought so.

Her hair was wild and messy, her eyes were heavy still carrying sleep, and her lips were always so plump and red. She must bite them either as soon as she wakes up or during the night.

She takes his cup from his hand, bringing it to her lips to have a taste.

“Uh, I don’t know how you drink that”, she complains putting it back on the table.

“You’ll get used to it”, he says, “You seem to get used to things quite fast with proper motivation”.

A tense smile pulls on Mabel's lips, and she averts her eyes to the table.

“Has she eaten today?” Mabel asks.

“She eats at seven every morning. Good food. Proper food. Not district slop”.

Mabel turns her head back to him, bringing her lips to the point they were hovering over his.

“Well, how can I thank you?”. Her words carried ill-intent. He would hear the disdain in her voice as she spat them from her mouth.

“You can get off me so I can get ready for the day”. An almost perfect morning, ruined by acknowledgement of the large elephant in the room.

As he walks back to the bedroom he wishes that he refrained from taking the jab at her. Who cared if she was acting the fool? At least she was acting like his fool.

When he enters the room dressed for the day it seemed Mabel was back to her new self.

She stood as he enters the room.

“You’re leaving already?” she asks.

“Yes” was his short reply.

“Wait” she calls as he heads towards the door.

He halts in his spot, watching her run into the crowded kitchen.

It startles the servants as she shoots pass them

She takes the cake from the fridge, the parchment under it reading “level 3. Find her”.

There was only hope that it would get to Mrs plinth and even more hope that she would go against her husband to follow through.

Still she was Mabel’s only chance. Ma plinth was a good person. Still district- still human.

She was sure to listen to a desperate plea.

She takes the two plates and pass the servants who squashed themselves to stay out of her way.

Coriolanus watches her bring the cakes out from the kitchen.

“One for Ma” she raises the smallest cake tin, “and one for Dr Gaul”.

“Cakes?” Coriolanus questions fixing his tie.

“Apologies” Mabel reminds him, “just make sure you don’t mix the two. Ma has a district recipe that won’t be appreciated by Dr Gaul”.

Coriolanus sighs he wanted to say no but the last 24 hours had been so nice.

Ma was just below him and he would see Dr Gaul at work. Maybe the cake would serve as a pointer to his good work.

So he takes the cakes from her hands.

She points once more to the cakes, “Ma. Dr Gaul” she reiterates.

Coriolanus nods, going to leave her.

She catches his face between her hands to stop him, reaching up on her tippy toes to kiss him.

He freezes. He wanted to kiss back but by the time he could gain control of himself again she was pulling back.

She tabs his hands as she spoke to indicate as she was talking, “Ma. Dr Gaul”.

“I understand” he assures.

“Good”, she grins, “I’ll see you when you get home”.

The thought made Coriolanus feel giddy.

He leans down to kiss her once more. Half of him didn’t want to go to work but he was determined that Mabel would not stray him from his path.

Mabel sees him to the door and waves him off

“Please, please, please” she mutters under her breath.

tag list;

@bruher

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@immyowndefender

@namelesslosers

@lovelymoonkiid

@queenofshinigamis

@acidaciruela

@briefwinnerpersonaturtle

@tian-monique

@someonefromwutheringheights

#coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #dead dove do not eat #snow lands on top #tom blyth #commander snow

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eddiegettingshot · 51 minutes ago

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ok sorry to be #controversial i guess because i genuinely do like her as a character and find her complex and interesting and sympathetic and am glad she haunts the narrative. but i do love how every single time anyone talks about shannon they just pretend she didn't completely abandon eddie and chris for like 3 years. as in no contact no child support nothing. whatever the reason may be. it did happen. and then eddie is in the wrong for. uhhhhh not defining the new evolution of their relationship right away? being hesitant about letting her see chris after she was back for like. what. 2 months? "eddie trapped her!" he quite literally did not. she left for 3 years. and eddie had to answer chris when he asked where his mom went. and then she asked for a divorce. so 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

#im sorry canonically shannon was a bad mother. i don't know why people insist on acting like she had zero agency #they were awful to each other and she was bad to chris this is like. Something we can accept

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 12 hours ago

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can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 5

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4

Eddie’s just dropped his response in the requested copy of Romeo and Juliet. He’d looked furtively around the library, trying to see if anyone was paying him an abnormal level of attention.

No one even looks up.

There’s a mousy girl in the corner reading a comic book, some band girl muttering to herself as she frantically pulls books off the shelf, and Nancy Wheeler writing, fast enough that Eddie’s surprised the lead of her pencil doesn’t snap clean off.

Could it be her?

Eddie squints at her, trying to look past her frizzy hair and prissy face to what must be hidden underneath. Before he finds any clarity, she looks up from the page in front of her, already scowling before she meets Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie startles, damn-near sprinting out of the library, his smoker’s lungs wheezing hard enough to damn-near expel themselves from his lungs.

No way in hell is it Wheeler—she’s way too scary, and besides, no one’s ever accused her of being an athlete. That band girl, maybe? She looked feisty enough to kick ass at organized sports-ball.

The secret’s burning a hole through his heart and he wants, no, needs, to tell someone.

Eddie feels deranged with it, almost manic as he rushes to find someone, anyone, he can talk to. Hell, right now he’d take Hagan if he didn’t think the dude would punch him in the face.

Luckily, he smacks into Gareth before anything gets that dire. The kid’s obviously rushing through the parking lot to catch the bus before it leaves without him, stranding him at the school before the weekend can truly start.

“Dude—” he stutters out as Eddie latches onto both of his shoulders and begins shaking him about. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Gareth smacks him off, and Eddie stumbles back, almost buzzing with the frenetic energy built up from weeks of getting love letters in his locker and not being able to tell a soul. Eddie grabs onto him again and just keeps shaking, lest his soul quiver right out of his body. “I can’t keep it in anymore, man,” Eddie says, and he can tell from the bug-eyed look on the other boy’s face that he’s not picking up what Eddie’s putting down. “I’ve gotten four letters, Gare-Bear, four!”

He enunciates the last word with an even harder shake until Eddie can hear his teeth clack together. Gareth makes an unholy noise, like a cat submerged in bathwater, and damn-near claws Eddie’s face off in his attempts to get away. Eddie ends up standing in the parking lot, still holding the shoulders of Gareth’s flannel up despite there no longer being a body in it.

“And each one is sweeter than the last!” Eddie cries, maliciously dropping the flannel into a puddle.

Gareth squawks, bending down to scoop his outerwear up from the ground and twist it until some of the water sops out of it and back to the pavement from whence it came. He’s not looking at Eddie at all. God, he knew he should have picked Doug.

“So, why are you telling me about it?” Gareth gripes.

Left unspoken, but patently obvious between them, is that Jeff, Eddie’s usual secret keeper, is entirely absent. Eddie twirls one of his own curls, bringing it up to shield the blush that’s no doubt blooming on his face as he admits, “Jeff would make fun of me.”

Besides, Jeff’s been weird all day, eyes darting away from Eddie’s like he’s got some sort of disease that might be catching.

He doesn’t want to talk to Jeff right now.

Giving it up as a bad job, Gareth slings his sopping flannel over one shoulder with the beleaguered sigh of a single mother and finally meets Eddie’s eyes.

“Dude,” he says, voice that of someone delivering a deadly blow. “I’m going to make fun of you.”

Eddie can feel himself pouting, does absolutely nothing to try to stop it as he mutters, “knew I should’ve confided in Hagan,” too quietly for Gareth to hear.

“Now, where are these stupid letters?”

Eddie throws his hands up and takes two showily large steps back as he declares, “well, I’m not going to show you now!”

“Oh, Jeff,” Gareth calls, all sing-songy and sly.

Eddie lunges forward to slam his palm over Gareth’s mouth even though Jeff had disappeared from the school long ago. With his hands so close already, he’s hard-pressed to stop himself from wringing Gareth’s scrawny neck.

Before he knows it, Eddie finds himself settled in his room, the letters strewn about Eddie’s unmade bed.

Gareth reads them all; he laughs at all the parts that are sweetest, and despite being born an only child, Eddie can feel himself developing one hell of a Cain instinct. Maybe Cain was actually a cool guy, and Abel drove him to it with his incessant wheedling.

Eddie wouldn’t know; he’s never read the bible.

“Dude, she’s a jock?” Gareth asks, peering down at the letter with a level of glee Eddie’s never seen on the other boy’s face.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Eddie asks, taking sadistic enjoyment in the way Gareth’s nose wrinkles with disgust. He rips—gently!—the letter out of Gareth’s hands and gathers them all back together, intent to hide them from any more prying eyes.

“I was reading that!”

“Girls can do sports,” Eddie replies snootily, tucking the letters away beneath his pillow. “And besides, there’s always cheerleaders.”

All that does is make Gareth start laughing again. “You think you can bag a cheerleader?”

He raises his hand threateningly, one wrong word from smacking that look off his face, the way Eddie’s dad had always threatened. “Do you want to walk home?” Eddie demands.

Eddie’s doubtful it was the threat that got Gareth to stop laughing—they both know they’ll spend the rest of the evening eating stale cereal and watching whatever’s on TV before falling asleep in Eddie’s small bed—but the silence is still welcome.

It lasts a solid three seconds before Gareth asks, “you’re not afraid it’s all a joke?”

Eddie’s going to kill him.

***

The day’s been long despite Steve, Chrissy, and Jeff all skipping first period. Still, nothing could stop him from taking precious time out of his weekend to pick up any notes Eddie might have written.

It’s becoming normal now, to skulk behind Chrissy through the library as she picks up notes. What’s that saying about the third time being a pattern? And there, tucked reverently into a copy of Romeo and Juliet—Chrissy’s idea, not his—is an envelope with Secret Admirer written across it in bold, cursive font. Like Eddie’d gone out and gotten a quill and ink pot just for the occasion.

The ink’s so black, it still looks wet, but when Steve caresses the letters, they don’t even smudge. They both stare down at it where it’s still clutched between Chrissy’s fingers. Chrissy, ever the good friend, waits for his next move.

“Want to come over?” he asks, tired of impersonal whispers in quiet libraries. He wants a girl’s night, the way he and Carol used to before she’d started dating Tommy and everything had gotten so stilted. “I can paint your nails.”

Chrissy doesn’t even hesitate. She’s beaming as she puts the envelope carefully into her book bag, grabs his arm, and drags him out of the room.

She doggedly follows his car all the way home to his big empty house, her headlights beaming light and warmth straight into his heart.

The porch light’s on in front of his house, a beacon leading him home from his rapidly darkening driveway. He always leaves it on, something about its cheerful light making his dark house seem more welcoming, even more so now that he’s got a friend parking her car right behind his.

He’s glad not to get run out of town, but more than that, he’s grateful that it was all just a mistake, that he doesn’t need to let another friendship fizzle out into nothing.

“Are your parents home?” she asks as she bounces out of her car and up to his side.

“Almost never,” Steve replies, not turning back to her, unwilling to see the expression on her face as he leads her to the front door and ushers her inside once it’s unlocked.

He slides his shoes off, and she copies his movements before following him up the stairs. They settle onto his bed, and he’s tempted to make a wise-crack about what boyfriends and girlfriends usually do in beds, but he’s a little afraid she might slap him, so all he says is, “did you bring it?”

Chrissy rolls her eyes, “of course I brought it.”

She’s already made herself comfortable laying on her stomach, but she dutifully reaches toward the ground to rifle through her bag and pull the envelope that’s been burning a hole in it free. Steve descends on it like a drowning man on land.

He lays on his stomach beside her, tempted to kick his feet and twirl his hair as he slots his finger into the envelope and opens it with the precision born from years of practice opening his parents’ mail.

It’s only as he pulls the tab open that he notices it’s not an envelope at all. Eddie had cleverly folded the note he’d written into the shape of an envelope, tucking the tab into it to keep it closed. He smooths the creases out and devours the words.

Secret Admirer,

I want to learn everything about you– the color of your eyes, how your lips curve when you smile, how soft your hands are, the sound of your laughter. But more than that, I want to know what you love, along with all of your deepest wants and needs. You’ve piqued my curiosity with your scant answers. I can’t help but want more.

Unfortunately, there’s not enough room on the page for the unrelenting number of questions flooding my mind. I know the point of being a secret admirer is that it’s a secret, but I hope that if you really do like me, you won’t stay secret for long.

I came up with a game I think could be fun! I’ve filled mine out already, for you to keep. Recopy it onto a separate sheet and return it with your next note. That way I get to keep your answers and you can have mine. I also wrote little notes on the back for some of them. I couldn’t help myself.

Yours,

Eddie

And there, tucked behind the envelope is a notecard, Eddie’s usual sloppy handwriting covering it with that same, black ink. But he’s circled his answers in red, and added little numbers next to some of them.

||Rock or Pop 1 || Board Games or Sports Games 2 || Early Bird or Night Owl || Reading Or TV || Big Spoon or Little Spoon 3 || Outer Space or The Ocean 4 || Art or History || Alcohol or Weed 5 || Cats or Dogs || Holding Hands or First Kiss 6 || Winter or Summer || Grease or Star Wars || Gold or Silver || Halloween or New Year’s Eve || Vampires or Werewolves 7 || Drive-In or Movie Theater || Back Seat or Under the Bleachers 8 || Cuddling or Dancing || Slides or Swings 9 ||

Steve flips it over and finds more little numbers in red, each with a corresponding blurb.

1. Pop is fun if you’re into that, but nothing beats a good guitar riff.

2. I know you’re into sports, sweetheart, but come on, board games are the obvious winner.

3. If you prefer being the big spoon, I’m willing to compromise <3

4. If you pick the ocean, then you’re braver than me! That’s a body of water you can’t even see the bottom of! How are you cool with that?

5. If you know me, and it really seems like you do, then my answer here is obvious.

6. I bet you’ve got really nice hands, sweetheart. Would love to feel them in mine someday.

7. Werewolves are cool, too, but come on, vampires fit my aesthetic way better.

8. Under the bleachers would probably be cool, too, but my van’s a lot warmer (does that count as a backseat?)

9. I was always that kid who would go down the slide and pretend there was a dragon chasing me, what about you?

Steve smiles down at the card and all the secrets it holds.

“Aww, that’s so cute!” Chrissy says.

Steve, for the first time, gets the inexplicable urge to hide Eddie’s words behind his hands. He doesn’t because that would be insane, and also she’s already seen it. So, all he says is, “help me respond?”

She does.

Eddie —

I don’t love like you do, not so easily and with my whole heart. But I love my best friend, and I like a whole lot more—hopefully that’s enough.

I’m just as greedy for answers as you are. I want to write all your answers down on flash cards, study them like you might test me on them. If you do, I’m determined to get an A+.

I hope my own answers satisfy, even if they don’t include my face, my smile, or my name. But my eyes? They’re brown, but nowhere near as pretty as yours. I could fall into your eyes and die happy.

Yours, Always,

Your Secret Admirer

P.S. This time, put your reply in The Anatomy and Physiology textbook, right next to the diagram of the human heart.

Chrissy tears up at the bit about his best friend, but luckily doesn’t comment, just keeps spinning his yarn into gold. She dutifully re-writes the answer card as well, letting Steve circle his own answers with her pretty pink pen as she peers over her shoulder.

“It’s kind of funny how many of your answers are opposites,” Chrissy says, once they’re done.

Steve frowns, staring between both cards. She’s right; between all the questions, they’ve got three in common: they both chose holding hands over first kisses, drive-ins over movie theaters, and cuddling over dancing.

It’s not much to build a relationship on.

“Yeah, funny,” Steve replies, trying for chill but his voice comes out all wrong.

“Steve?” Chrissy asks, sounding hesitant herself now. “None of that matters, you know that right?”

Steve doesn’t respond; he’s too busy looking between each filled-out card, debating whether changing some of his answers might be for the best.

As if she can sense his thoughts, Chrissy snatches them both from his hands.

“Hey!”

He goes to snatch them back, but she’s pushed them behind her, glare fierce enough to give him pause. “None of that matters,” she says, voice firm. “You really think whether you like gold or silver better is a deal-breaker for a relationship?”

She’s right, that’s not what’s doomed this whole thing before it’s even started—it’s Steve. Steve, who’s a boy, and a jock, and not very bright.

He’s always the problem.

“You hear me, Steve?” Chrissy asks. She’s leaning toward him now, eyes blazing with a conviction he doesn’t quite understand. “You’re perfect just the way you are, okay?”

His throat’s all clogged up so he just nods, looking down at her hands where they’re clutching tightly enough to his comforter that the beds of her nails turn pink, and her knuckles bleach white.

She’s got thin, pretty fingers, and jagged nails. These are the hands that can write letters Eddie will want to read; it’s got nothing to do with silver, or gold, or any of that shit.

It’s Steve.

“Did you really want to paint my nails?” Chrissy asks, biting her lip and not meeting his eyes.

Steve’s up off the bed in an instant, ready for the distraction she’s handed him. He rifles around in the bathroom and comes back with a crate of nail polish which he immediately shoves into her chest with enough gusto that she makes a little oof! noise.

“Pick your poison,” Steve says, watching as her eyes grow wider with every new color she picks up.

“You have so many,” she breathes, touching the small glass bottles almost reverently before picking up a pale pink color that suits her. “What about this one?”

She looks so unsure, like his opinion on her choice of nail polish is the most important thing in the world. Steve’s heart squeezes beneath his ribcage. “‘course, Chris.”

He settles onto the bed, legs criss-crossed. He waits for Chrissy to match his pose before grabbing her hand. She curls her fingers into a fist, a breath shuddering out of her before she forces her hand back open.

Steve doesn’t comment on the ragged state her nails are in. He just grabs a nail file from the crate and smooths them down as best he can. He buffs her nails out before finally grabbing her chosen color and gives the bottle a shake.

The first coat goes on quick, Chrissy watching each flick of the brush like it’s fascinating.

“You’re really good at this,” she says, sounding shocked.

Steve presses her hands down on the bed to keep them still as the first coat dries. “Thanks,” he replies, still not looking up at her. “I used to do Carol’s like every week.”

There’s a silence in the room now that feels one step to the left of stilted. He doesn’t know what to do about it, so he picks up her hand and blows on the nails like that will speed anything up at all.

“Can I do yours next?”

At that, Steve finally looks up from Chrissy’s nails to meet her eyes. She’s biting her lip, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment.

“Do you want to?” Steve asks.

No one’s ever painted his nails before, not even Carol. But in the face of Chrissy’s earnest, nervous expression, he can’t say no.

That’s how he finds himself at school on Monday with bright yellow nail polish painted on each of his fingers, the edges already chipped from where he couldn’t stop himself from picking at it.

No one says a thing.

#koko's steddie secret admirer au #steddie #my fic #I did my best with the formatting of the letter on his one lol #tumblr is Not helping with it so :shrugs:

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sacrednova · 1 day ago

Text

Drive me home | Simon "Ghost" Riley | 4

fem!reader | In this story, a young woman mistakenly texts Simon "Ghost" Riley, thinking he's her Uber driver after a wild night out. Despite his gruff, reserved nature, Simon shows up. Contains fake screenshots with texts messages and calls!!!! Start reading from the beginning: Part 1 | Part 2 | part 3

Simon was on his way. The same mysterious, masked man who’d ghosted her texts and made her heart race for weeks was now on his way to pick her up. She clutched her phone, trying to keep calm as her friends, despite barely standing, noticed her sudden panic.

“What’s wrong with you?” Lottie asked, steadying herself by holding onto her arm. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Her eyes darted away as she tried to brush it off. “Uh, it’s nothing. Just… kind of a weird story,” she muttered.

“Oh, hell no,” Alexa cut in, her eyes bright with alcohol and intrigue. “Out with it.”

With a sigh and a helpless shrug, she finally spilled the story, trying to keep her voice steady. “Remember last month? When I said I got a weird Uber ride?”

“Yeah, yeah, with the mask guy,” Lottie chimed in, barely containing a giggle. “Wait—that’s him?!”

“Uh… yeah,” she admitted, cheeks burning. “And when I tried to text him ‘hello’ like a week later, he just… never answered.”

“Girl, and you still have him in your contacts? Under ‘Simon personal uber’?” Alexa teased, snickering.

Her cheeks flushed. “Look, it was just an inside joke with myself! I didn’t think I’d ever need to actually call him again!”

Just then, a truck pulled up to the curb, headlights cutting through the dark street. She glanced over, her stomach doing a flip as she recognized it instantly. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

Lottie and Alexa, their grins wide and very tipsy, leaned close. “That’s him?” Lottie whispered, her voice barely containing her glee.

She nodded, feeling like her heart was about to launch out of her chest. “Yep… that’s him.”

Her friends dissolved into giggles, making absolutely no effort to hide it. Alexa poked her side and whispered, “You know, if you’re this flustered already, maybe you should just go for it. I mean, the masked Uber thing is kinda… hot?”

She shot her a glare, her cheeks heating even more. “Oh, my God, shut up!”

As Simon stepped out of his truck, she swallowed hard, wondering if the ground could just swallow her whole instead.

The universe was out to humiliate her, no doubt. Because instead of swallowing her whole, it had spat her out and stomped on her. There he was, standing tall and unreadable under the streetlight—a face mask covering his mouth, a black cap shadowing his eyes, and… a military uniform.

So that’s why he was awake at 5 a.m., she thought, her mind racing. Of course, he’s military. Everything about his stone-cold demeanor made perfect sense now.

“Oh, so you like soldiers now?” Lottie teased, not bothering to whisper.

Her heart dropped as she looked up and met his gaze. His stare was intense, focused directly on her like she was the only person there. And he’d definitely heard Lottie.

“Oh my god, shut up,” she hissed, trying to look anywhere but at him.

Millie, still a giggling mess, squinted up at him and muttered, “Uwber?”

Without missing a beat, Simon looked back down at her and answered, “Apparently.” His tone was deadpan, and she swore she caught a flicker of amusement in his eyes behind the mask.

And that was all he said. A quiet, towering presence, letting the silence stretch uncomfortably, all while his gaze stayed locked on her.

God, why was that so hot?

The next thing she knew, her friends were piling into Simon's truck like they owned it. Before she could even process it, they had her shoved into the passenger seat, wedged close to Simon with her heart thumping embarrassingly hard. Her friends, meanwhile, were giggling and whispering like they were at a sleepover, eyes sparkling with tipsy mischief.

And, of course, they had to try making him talk.

Lottie leaned over the seat, resting her chin on her hands with a sly grin. “So… Simon, was it? You’re, like, a real Uber driver, right?”

A long, deadpan silence. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, unamused. “…Sure.”

Alexa chimed in, barely holding back her laughter. “Do you always drive around with the hat and mask? Gotta say, it’s got… a certain vibe.”

He said nothing, just kept his hands on the wheel, looking painfully unfazed.

But then, of course, Millie had to deliver the ultimate question. In her slightly slurred, fearless way, she looked over at him and asked, “Aaaand wha’? Wha’s your type, Ssssimon?”

She wanted to die. She glared daggers at Millie, mouthing a very obvious FUCK YOU in all caps, while Millie only giggled harder.

A few seconds of silence stretched like a lifetime. But then, to her shock, he finally spoke.

“Reckless,” he said, eyes flicking just briefly in her direction.

The word hung in the air, heavy and almost taunting. Her cheeks flamed up, her mind spiraling. He went right back to focusing on the road, unreadable and quiet as ever.

Oh, God.

She was not the shy type. Never had been. But right then, with Simon’s gaze cutting through her, she felt her face heat up as if she’d never flirted a day in her life.

“Oh, you did the impossible, Simon! You made her blush!” Millie slurred from the back, grinning like she’d just won the lottery.

Millie, I swear, you’re dead to me.

Simon, to her surprise, looked even less amused, but he kept driving, eyes focused straight ahead, not saying another word. They went on like that, him in his silent concentration and her doing everything to avoid his stare, as he dropped Millie off first. Millie stumbled out with a wave and a sloppy “G’bye, Uber,” giving Simon a wink that he definitely ignored.

Next was Alexa, who leaned in for an exaggerated, tipsy goodbye, pressing a sloppy kiss on her cheek. “You’re the best,” she whispered, giggling as she stumbled out into the night.

Finally, it was just her, Simon, and Lottie, who hadn’t said a word in a while. The quiet was odd, especially for Lottie, who was never one to stay silent long.

Then Simon’s voice broke through the silence, calm but resolute. “She’s asleep.”

“What—oh. Right.” She twisted around and saw Lottie, slumped against the window, practically drooling.

“…You need to wake her up,” he said, his voice that same low, unamused rumble.

She blinked at him, feigning ignorance. “What?”

He exhaled, sounding downright annoyed. “Wake her up. Your friend. She’s asleep. Drooling on my window.”

Oh, for the love of— “Right, okay,” she mumbled, reaching back to shake Lottie awake.

Lottie stumbled out, muttering a half-asleep goodbye and thanks, barely making it through her front door. As she disappeared into her house, the truck lurched back into motion, and that dreaded silence settled in like an unwelcome guest.

Her heart pounded as she tried to string together any words that might cut through the heavy air. What do I say now? Do I thank him? Apologize? Do I tell him I’m sorry a thousand times?

She swallowed hard and started. “I… I didn’t know she called you. I thought she was calling an actual Uber.”

“It’s fine,” he said, his voice flat, eyes locked on the road.

“Like, honestly, it’s my fault anyway because… well, I still had you saved as ‘Simon Personal Uber.’ I know it’s stupid, I just… forgot to change it.” She bit her lip, wanting to say more, to explain away the joke. “I didn’t think we’d even talk again, so…”

He didn’t respond. She fidgeted, regretting every word coming out of her mouth.

“Because, you know… you ghosted me,” she finished, the words slipping out before she could stop herself.

She winced, instantly regretting it as the weight of his stare fell upon her, cutting through the dim light of the street. It was that same steady, unreadable stare she’d seen before, and now, with the truck idling at a red light, he turned to face her fully, eyes piercing and unyielding.

“I ghosted what?”

She froze, feeling her pulse quicken under his stare. Oh, God. Did I really just say that?

A rush of heat flooded her cheeks. “You… ghosted me?” Her voice barely a whisper, more question than statement now.

He held her gaze, the faintest glint of something amused flickering in his eyes. The light turned green, but he didn’t move.

Finally, he spoke, his voice calm but edged with something unreadable. “Guess that’s a new one for my book.”

A smile tugged at her lips, barely there, but real. And somehow, in the quiet that followed, she found herself feeling strangely comfortable.

The moment he started to drive again, she was laser-focused on her phone, her fingers tapping furiously as she composed a text to Millie:

She didn’t expect a reply since Millie was likely face-planted in her pillow, but that didn’t stop her. She spammed away.

She chuckled, shaking her head at her ridiculousness, but God, it felt good to let it out. A giddy, nervous energy buzzed through her.

And then, the truck rolled to a stop in front of her house. She glanced over at him, feeling his eyes on her, heavy and unwavering. That silence settled over them again, but this time, she knew she had to break it.

“I’m paying you,” she declared, trying to sound firm.

“No.”

She huffed, searching for a reason. “…Please?”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“The second time sounded like a question, love.”

Her heart skipped at that one word. Love? Had he actually just called her that? She could feel her cheeks heat up. What was happening to her? Since when did she get so flustered over a single word?

She fumbled, desperate to say something that wouldn’t sound completely ridiculous. “Just… let me… just the gas?”

He only shook his head, and she felt like she was grasping at straws, anything to keep this moment alive. She wanted to laugh it off, maybe tease him back, but nothing came. She was too focused on those eyes, the way they seemed to look straight through her, keeping her pinned in place.

Finally, she managed to blurt out, “I texted you.”

“Hm?” He looked at her, just slightly tilting his head.

“I texted you. You didn’t answer.” Her voice was softer now, almost apologetic. She wasn’t sure why she was even bringing this up; it wasn’t like she had any right to feel hurt over it. They’d barely even spoken, but still, it had stung.

“Wanted to talk about something?” he asked, his voice steady and unbothered.

She laughed nervously. “Maybe.”

“I don’t like texts.”

Her face fell. “…Should I have called you?”

“No.”

Damn. That one stung even more than she expected. She felt ridiculous, embarrassed for pushing the conversation this far. Idiot, idiot, she thought, mentally kicking herself as she opened the door to step out. “Right… shit, sorry.”

She turned, flashing him a weak smile as she stepped onto the curb. “Thanks. Sorry. Bye!” Her voice was high-pitched, her nerves showing through as she scrambled away. She felt a sting in her chest, like the silence he left her in had weight, pressing down on her.

But then, as she was halfway to her door, she heard him mutter, just loud enough to reach her: “…I like bourbon.”

She froze, turning around to look at him in disbelief. She could barely see his face in the dark truck, but that one line hung in the air, giving her just enough of a lifeline to feel like maybe—just maybe—she hadn’t embarrassed herself completely.

She could hardly contain herself as she watched his truck disappear down the road, and just like that, her phone was out. She juggled it in her hands, struggling to keep hold of it without dropping her keys and everything else she’d somehow managed to carry inside. Her fingers fumbled over the screen, but she didn’t care—she had one thing to say, and she typed it out without overthinking.

As soon as she hit send, she felt that familiar mix of nerves and excitement bubble up. She locked the door, kicked off her shoes, and stumbled through her evening routine, her heartbeat racing more from the message she’d just sent than the drinks she’d had. She’d just settled into bed, sighing as her body finally relaxed, when her phone buzzed.

Her eyes widened, barely believing he’d actually answered, and so quickly. She hadn’t even thought that far ahead, but the words sank in, full of promise.

A surge of thrill rushed through her, making her grin like an idiot. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, heart pounding.

She held her breath, not sure what he’d say, or if he’d say anything at all. But then, her screen lit up.

She sank back into her pillow, clutching her phone to her chest. That blunt, matter-of-fact reply shouldn’t have made her this giddy, but damn—straightforward men were just so hot.

NOT ME FINISHING MY SHIFT AND POSTING THIS PART EVEN AFTER I SAID I’D POST IT ON MONDAY. I just don’t know the word rest... anyways, love you all, really ♥

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #cod modern warfare #ghost fanfiction #cod headcanons #fanfic #ghost cod #my writing #ao3 #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #x reader #fem reader

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allwaswell16 · 13 hours ago

Text

[4 pics, 4 quotes, 4 iconic 1D fics]

Iconic fics by ...

- disgruntledkittenface -

[1]

“So,” he says casually, looking from Nick back to Louis, “you and Nick didn’t come back to the bar last night.”

And the sentence just hangs in the air between them, like an accusation. Louis can practically see the effort Harry’s putting in to keep his face neutral, but the intense frog expression creeps its way back in. And suddenly Louis get it.

Harry is jealous.

He wants to laugh. It’s preposterous to think of, being jealous of Nick of all people. Nick who can see Louis’ feelings for Harry written all over his face and in everything he does.

“Yeah, after we went for a smoke, I just felt like going home,” Louis explains, biting back a smile. Knowing he’s not being clear enough, he continues, “Nick just walked with me, stretching those ridiculous legs of his, I guess, but Liam picked him up as soon as we got back to my apartment building.”

Harry is still glowering. It’s ridiculous. It’s so fucking cute. Louis is so fucked.

[2]

“I do! We do,” Harry says, looking at Louis, who smiles warmly at him. “I just always thought I would adopt, but I guess I see the issues here for, like… succession?”

“Yes, my successor has to be a biological relative,” Louis says gently. “Lottie wants no part of it, that’s why she was so eager to donate eggs. And I’m not sure if she’ll have children of her own.”

“It is actually a matter of state,” Hervé adds, not unkindly. “Securing the line of succession secures Monaco’s status as an independent principality. If there is no biological heir, upon the prince’s passing then the state would be absorbed by France.”

“Oh, fuck,” Nick mutters, summing up how Harry feels. Well, he wasn’t wrong when he tried to tell Harry what a big fucking deal all of this would be.

[3]

“Sorry to bother,” he says lowly, dripping sarcasm. “But would you mind shutting the fuck up? You’re ruining the show for the rest of us with your passive-aggressive bullshit.”

Harry automatically twists around to see the couple’s response; it looks like husband is gearing up for a retort, but there are quiet murmurs of agreement from the people around them, and the man on his seatmate’s other side even claps him on the back in thanks. Chagrined, the couple slump down in their seats, their lips unhappily sealed.

Harry turns to the man next to him, who’s already looking at him from under the smudge of long, dark lashes that frame his blue eyes. A slow grin overtakes Harry’s face as he meets the man’s steady gaze. For once his words don’t fail him, and he leans in just close enough so the man will be able to hear him as he whispers “thank you.”

[4]

“Is that another new tattoo, Z?” she asks, reaching out and gently turning Zayn’s arm to get a better look. “Oh, yin yang, right?”

Louis immediately squeezes Harry’s thigh, turning to her with wide eyes, but Harry’s too busy fishing for a thin slice of cucumber at the bottom of her glass to register what’s happening. Zayn is still holding her arm out so Liam can see the tattoo when she glances up and Louis pointedly looks from her to the tattoo and back again. Harry’s confused face is adorable, she looks like a disgruntled kitten trying to surmise what Louis is attempting to silently communicate. It takes a minute, but understanding finally dawns in her eyes and she claps her large hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

“What?” Zayn asks, throwing a dirty look at them.

“Nothing,” Louis manages in a strangled voice. “Nothing! Great tattoo. Harry? Shall we?”

- Answers Below -

[1] you came into my life

They stand around talking for a minute and then Jonathan starts to ramble, “Has there ever been, like, an unrequited gay love story in here? Like a Brokeback Mountain moment where, like, someone just fell in love and they didn’t mean to?”

Louis feels bile rise in his throat as Jonathan’s eyes sparkle, pleading for a yes. He manages to look around and see thoughtful looks on his coworkers’ faces before their heads shake no.

“Not here,” Liam says finally.

When the Queer Eye cast and crew sweep into Louis’ small town and fire station to make over his best friend and coworker Liam, Louis’ carefully constructed walls start to fall down and he has to face his fears – and the only guy he’s ever been able to see a future with.

[2] Darling, so it goes

Harry Styles is a world-famous actor at the height of his career but a personal low point when he meets His Serene Highness Prince Louis of Monaco by chance. He doesn’t think they’ll ever see each other again, but after striking up a correspondence, it turns out they have more in common than he thought. Then they start to fall for each other. Louis is different from anyone Harry has dated before and their relationship moves fast as Harry realizes he’s ready for a change. Soon Harry finds himself adapting to an entirely new life, in a country where he doesn’t know the rules, the customs, even the language. Harry is used to people underestimating him, and he’s more determined than ever to prove them wrong.

He just needs Louis to meet him halfway.

Grace Kelly AU.

[3] just one look (and i fell so hard)

Louis takes a small step back, breaking the moment first. “Well, I should–”

“Do you want to come up?”

The words are out of Harry’s mouth before he’d even planned them, and he bites his lip.

“Oh, thank god,” Louis laughs, stepping back into Harry’s space. “I wasn’t, um…”

“Wasn’t ready to let go of you yet,” Harry finishes quietly, glancing up at Louis.

“Yeah,” Louis nods, reaching up and twirling one of Harry’s curls in his fingers. “Yeah, exactly.”

Harry has wanted to go to the Shubert Theatre ever since he moved to New York and lucked into a rent-controlled apartment just outside of the Theatre District. When he finally gets his chance, he hopes the night can meet his sky-high expectations. But the last thing he could have expected was the man seated next to him.

[4] i must admit i thought i'd like to make you mine

Louis fell apart when her ex broke up with her and moved across the country. Just as she’s starting to move on, Zayn comes back to town for their mutual friends’ wedding – with a new girlfriend as her plus one.

Blindsided and scrambling to save face, Louis lets herself get talked into a fake relationship with her new friend Harry. Their arrangement makes Louis feel pathetic and embarrassed, but it’s only going to last a few weeks. She just has to get through the wedding – what could happen?

#happy birthday Maggie!#ficrec #authorrec #1dsquad #1dficlibrary #disgruntledkittenface

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peachhcs · 3 days ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/peachhcs/766163417530875904/httpswwwtumblrcompeachhcs765958548506198016

em darling you can’t leave it like that!!!! i need to know what happened next!!

like does she eventually call him or he does he just show up because he so worried and can’t stand being so far not knowing what wrongs with his girl.

i lowkey feel like he can’t even be mad after he hears her reasoning and hates that samy is still learning to trust him because he screwed up if anything it makes him want to keep working on gaining her trust fully back

please and thank you :)

part 6 i think??? this is my new favorite side plot going on 😌 also yes small cliff hanger it’s my favorite thing to do. also if u didn’t know samy’s middle name is poppy and i think it’s cute to make luke call her pop sometimes :)

au masterlist

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 7

will woke up the next morning with the immediate thought to check his phone. he scanned though all of his notifications, hoping and hoping there was at least one from samy or luke, but when the blonde saw nothing his heart sank.

she hates him. she forgot about him. she doesn’t care.

he started spiraling, a cloud of anxiety forming over his head, but will tried knocking some sense into himself. there was a chance she was just busy getting tests and results back. she might be with her parents, or on her way home? she was caught up in all of it, she just hadn’t called yet.

that was understandable. yeah. she wasn’t ignoring him because why would she? he was her best friend. her boyfriend. they literally grew up together and told one another everything.

will tried shaking himself from the dark thoughts as he pushed himself out of bed and made his best attempt to get ready for practice and the rest of the day. maybe she’d call when he was at practice!

he just needed to think positive.

will did what he could to distract his mind as he went through his usual morning routine. he brushed his teeth listening to some music, washed his face, sort of did his hair, and then went downstairs to figure out what was for breakfast.

patrick and christina were already downstairs along with the younger boys running around getting ready for school. the two glanced over at the blonde, trying to read his expression.

“hi will, how are you?” christinia wondered.

“i’m fine. doing fine,” will nodded, but he didn’t really sound convincing. patrick and his wife exchanged a glance.

“any updates?” patrick dared to ask.

“um, no. not yet,” will shook his head, his lips forming into a tight-lipped smile.

“i’m sure she’s just talking with the doctors and getting discharged and settling back into home,” christina assured, rubbing the younger boy’s shoulder like he was her own son.

“yeah, i know. that’s what i’m thinking,” will nodded, moving further into the kitchen to grab a bite to eat before he needed to pick up macklin. he needed to busy his mind or else it would be the only thing will would think about all day.

the marleau’s watched in slight worry, but they knew not to push too far. they knew will could handle himself and samy would call soon. the hockey player rushed out of the house in a quick goodbye, climbing into his car and driving off without a second thought. the ride was silent besides the soft hum of the radio playing and when he pulled up to his friend’s place he braved a smile.

“morning,” macklin mumbled, tired and dreary-eyed like he just woke up ten minutes ago. will nodded, pulling back onto the road towards the rink.

the silence wasn’t unusual for them. usually, it was pretty silent on their rides in because of how early it was and how little sleep they got the night before. macklin didn’t say a lot and neither did will which he was glad for because the blonde wasn’t sure if he’d be able to take the million questions macklin sometimes had for him.

“hey, did you hear anything more from samy? is she doing okay?” shit. there it was. the brunette’s curious gaze slid to will’s.

“uh, she had to get surgery on her shoulder. a tendon tear or something,” will swallowed thickly.

“oh, shit. that fucking sucks. is she doing alright? i’m sure that’s gotta put her out for awhile. i texted with her for a bit last night just to see how she was but she never told me that. wow,” macklin didn’t notice the way will’s grip on the steering wheel whitened his knuckles nor the way his jaw clenched.

how many more people were gonna tell him they talked to his girlfriend before he even did?

“you were texting her?” will couldn’t help the anger in his voice.

“yeah, just wanted to check in after seeing that hit. it was brief, but she said she was doing alright and i said i was sorry that happened and i hope she bounced back soon. she hearted the message,” macklin explained their entire exchange and even though it wasn’t even a lot, it made something stir in the blonde.

“so she can text my fucking teammate and not call me?” will huffed under his breath which macklin did catch this time.

“what?”

“she hasn’t said a word to me.”

“wait, what do you mean she hasn’t said a word to you? you just said she had to get surgery,” the younger brunette became confused.

“because i learned all of that from her brother. samy hasn’t called or texted me since it happened,” the anger didn’t disappear from will’s voice.

“seriously? you’re her boyfriend. why wouldn’t she call you?”

“i don’t know, you tell me man. i don’t really know what i did wrong or why she won’t talk to me. i’ve been trying to reach her since last night,” will finally cooled off a bit, but his grip on the steering wheel didn’t.

“well, shit. i’m sorry, i didn’t know that. maybe she’ll call while you’re at practice or something. i’m sure she means to there’s just a lot on her mind.”

“yeah, sure,” will wanted to believe that but he couldn’t after hearing how she’s spoken to everyone but him.

meanwhile, in boston, luke was sitting in samy’s room with her after their parents asked him to bring something up for her from the cafeteria. the siblings were sitting in silence, luke texting on his phone and samy just staring the wall. her mind was clouded with calling will—something she still hadn’t done yet.

finally, the older hughes brother caught onto his sister’s quietness. he lifted his gaze and noticed the way she stared off into space and waved his hand in front of her.

“hey, earth to samy?” the girl snapped out of her daze.

“huh?”

“you okay? you look..worse than i would expect you to look after breaking your shoulder,” luke raised his eyebrow at his wording making her roll her eyes.

“i’m fine,” samy mumbled.

“why do you lie every time you’re keeping something from me? you know i can tell every single time, right?” luke rolled his eyes this time.

“just got a lot on my mind, luke,” his sister grumbled.

“seriously, what’s up? if it’s about mom and dad you know i won’t tell. not anymore at least,” the curly-haired boy chuckled to himself thinking he was way too amusing while samy didn’t find any of it funny.

“it’s not about them. it’s nothing, i promise,” she tried getting him off her back.

the girl’s phone buzzed in her lap where her lock screen lit up. the two saw the picture of her and will as her background and then it quickly clicked in luke’s head.

“have you talked to him?”

samy’s silence was his answer.

“c’mon, pop. you know you can talk to me. i’m not gonna judge you or whatever,” luke’s tone fell softer, pulling out the nickname he only called her since they were kids.

“i want to call him, but i just can’t. i..i can’t do it.”

“why not? did something happen between you two again?”

“no, but that’s the problem. i’m worried something will happen—like i’ll burden him or some shit. or like..i’ll run him out again by relying on him for everything when i shouldn’t or don’t need to. i just..i didn’t wanna burden him with this knowing i’m fine and he has hockey to worry about,” the tears fell faster than samy could stop then or even process that she was really crying now—harder than when she talked with ryan and gabe yesterday.

luke’s face fell. he hated seeing his baby sister so upset, so he reached his arms out to gently wrap around her frame for a hug. he didn’t say anything, just letting her cry it out and feel all the emotions.

they stayed like that for another good minute before samy finally pulled away. she embarrassingly wiped her eyes from her tears while luke just rubbed her knee.

“i’m sorry. this is so stupid,” the brunette laughed dryly—her poor attempt at humor.

“hey, don’t apologize. this isn’t stupid. you’re allowed to cry,” luke reassured her.

“i just don’t know why i can’t just call him. maybe it’s the pity i hate? or that i know he’d offer to fly out and drop anything but i don’t want him to do that just for me,” samy rambled some more while her brother just listened and nodded.

“can i be honest with you, pop?” the older boy wondered and samy nodded.

“i think you’re scared to let people care deeply for you and about you. you know how much will cares about you and i think that scares you. especially since he also hurt you,” luke kept an even tone, but his expression was soft. “if i know anything about will it’s that i know how much he loves you. he’d do anything for you and yes, i know it’s scary knowing how much someone cares about you to do that. however, you’re not a burden. you’re not gonna run him out. you’re not gonna annoy him. he loves you and he genuinely cares about you, i promise.”

luke’s words made samy cry harder. she buried her face in her hand, the tears pouring from her eyes all while the older hughes did his best to comfort her.

“what if he breaks up with me again because i didn’t call him right away?” now there was a whole new wave of anxieties to worry about.

“he is not going to do that. if he does, i’ll fly to san jose myself and punch him, but he won’t. i’m sure he’s waiting to hear from you and has been since yesterday afternoon,” luke nudged her good arm and nodded towards her phone. “it’s okay to let people in, pop. it means they care about you. i know it’s scary to trust again, but even i admit to how much that boy loves you and would do anything to gain your trust back.”

samy sucked in a deep breath as she found will’s contact again. she looked at luke who nodded before finally hitting call.

will’s phone vibrated by his leg. he was geared up for practice when he saw samy’s contact light up on his lock screen. the blonde’s heart quickly beat as he scrambled to answer it, stepping further away from the boys still getting ready.

“hello?” he breathed.

“will?” a wave of relief washed through him when he heard samy’s familiar voice on the other end.

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