#easy to hate chapter 6
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Chapter 6 Happy New Year
I do not own Harry Potter or the characters created by Rowling
So...when I first wrote this...I don’t even know how long ago, it was low *cough* highkey crappily written and the chapters were much shorter. This was originally 1,922 words. Now it is 3,134 words. That means I wrote an extra 1,212 words.
Anyways, this is also posted onto my Fanfiction.net account SomeKind0fMagic and my Wattpad somekindofmagic1 so you can check it out on there too!
But anywho, hope you enjoy!
Love Z <3
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A few days had passed since Christmas and Albus was sitting on the couch, waiting for Scorpius and Annie to arrive. He sighed as he flipped through the pages of the comic his aunt Hermione had gotten him. She tried to talk to him about Rose when she gave it to him, but he got out of the talk by claiming he was needed somewhere else.
His mum was in her office upstairs while his dad was out with Lily and James was out with his friends. He dreaded when they would come back. He only hoped it would be after Scor and Annie would leave. But he knew that would be a long shot as the two were staying until after dinner.
His eyes flicked over to the fireplace as he heard the roar of the Floo being used. He smiled as he saw the dirty blonde hair of his friend appear. Sitting the book down, he stood up, “Hey Scorp!”
Scorpius smiled and stepped out of the fire, “Hey Al, how’re you doing?”
They hugged, “Good, you?”
Scorpius pulled away and placed his hands in his pockets, “Same, so are we just waiting for Anne?”
The fire roared again and soon the voice of their reddish-brunette friend spoke out. “No, no you are not.”
“Oh my god.” Albus gaped at Annie.. “Your hair!” It was shorter, shaved on one half, and pitch black.
Her hand instinctively raised up to her hair. “Oh, yeah, I asked my aunt to cut and dye it.” THe hand fell slowly, smile following quickly after, “You don’t like it do you?”
“No, I like it, it’s cute. It’s...you!” She smiled again, “Honestly, not many people can rock half shaved hair, but you look good with it.”
Scorpius nodded, “He’s right, it suits you. And I honestly thought that you were joking at the dinner.”
Annie shrugged, “I was, but then I decided to go through with it.” She looked around, “So this is your house?”
Albus shrugged, “The living room of it.” He waved at them to follow him, “C’mon, let me show you my room.” They followed Albus out of the room and up the stairs. He stopped when he reached the door. “So, my sister, Lily, will be home later with my dad.” He pointed to Lily’s closed door. “That’s her room. And next to it is James’s. I have no idea when he and his friends will be back.” He opened his bedroom door and let them in, “It’s not much, but it’s comfortable.”
“I like it, but it’s just so…” Scorpius started, but he couldn’t seem to find the right word.
“Gryffindor.” Annie stated simply and placed a hand on Albus’s shoulder. “Which is so not you.”
Albus shrugged, “It’s been like this my whole life, I never really noticed or cared.” Not until he came back. “Maybe I'll ask mum and dad if I can repaint it over the summer.”
Annie shrugged, “It's up to you, and I'm not surprised that you never noticed, you hardly ever notice anything.” She walked over to his desk and picked up the radio, “I have one of these.” She turned back to him, “Funny thing, my mum has always been interested in Muggle things. Radios, movies, clothing. But truly, anything that can play music she has fallen in love with.” She sat it back on the desk, “I have a radio in my room.”
Albus nodded, “My dad was raised by Muggles, my Aunt’s parents are, and my granddad works in the Muggle Artifacts section of the Ministry. So I was raised around all types of Muggle appliances.”
Scorpius laughed softly, “I wish man. My mum was the biggest with Muggles, but even she could not do too much convincing on bringing Muggle technology into the Malfoy home.”
“Doesn’t your father own a few Muggle restaurants around the world, though?”
Albus looked at Scorpius curiously when Annie said that. Scorpius just shrugged, “Yeah. But my father kind of lets them do their own things. He’s lost in the Muggle world for the most part. There’s this one restaurant, however, in France that my father owns that he and my mum frequent regularly. I’ve been there once or twice.”
Albus nodded, “Any good?”
“Not sure. Expensive though.”
“Not surprising considering your family.” Scorpius nodded and Albus sighed, “Well, there’s more muggle technology downstairs if you’d like to see.” Scorpius nodded enthusiastically and the three made their way back downstairs.
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“I still don’t understand!”
Annie and Albus laughed at Scorpius. “Honestly, muggle sports make very little sense to me as well. So it’s quite alright.”
“I wonder if this is how muggleborns feel about Quidditch.”
“Probably.”
As they heard the front door close shut, he prayed that it was Lily and their dad and not James and his friends. And thankfully, his sister came skipping into the sitting room. A smile on her face. “Daddy wanted me to come see if your friends were here!” She threw Annie and Scorpius a smile and smiled, “Hi!”
Albus watched them both smile and wave back to her. “Is that it?”
“Well, he also wanted to meet them. So I guess you could always walk to the kitchen and introduce them to dad. Have you even introduced them to mum?”
Albus went silent and he could hear the smugness in his mums voice. “Yeah Albus? Have you?” He muttered a tiny ‘no’ and heard her continue. “That’s what I thought.” He looked up and saw his mum walking over to them. She held her hand out for them to shake. “Good to finally meet the two people who seem to have kept my son's head on straight these past few months.”
Annie shook her hand first, “Somebody has to.” She smiled at his mum, “I’m Anneliese by the way. But just Anne is fine.”
Scorpius followed suit with, “Anne actually keeps both me and Al in line.” He gave Albus’s mum a dashing smile. “And I’m Scorpius.”
His mum nodded, “Well, you two can call me Ginny.”
Annie bit her lip, “Is Ms. Ginny alright? My mother always told me to say ‘Mr.’ and ‘Ms.’ when talking to or about adults.”
Albus’s mum nodded, “If it makes you more comfortable, then yes, it’s alright.”
Annie nodded, “Okay. Cool.”
“Well, I’m going to start making dinner. James will be home shortly.” Albus held back a groan when his mum said that. He was hoping that James would just stay at someone’s house. That he wouldn’t come back home today.
And from the looks on his friends' faces, he realized that they were hoping for that to happen too.
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To say the dinner was tense was putting it lightly. James had brought Oliver Creevy, Frank Longbottom, Jason Bell-Wood, and their cousin Fred back home with him. Albus didn’t have the biggest thing against Fred. He surprisingly had been nice to Albus. But Frank, Oliver, and Jason? Albus didn’t trust them. Especially as they all, well mostly James and Oliver, were glaring daggers at Annie and Scorpius.
But the two of them couldn’t have cared less. They just carried on talking to his parents and sister. As if James and his friends didn’t exist. He wasn’t gonna lie, he admired them for it. Their ability to just ignore them and focus on something else.
The three kids played a few games, but it didn’t take them too much time before they decided to just head to bed. Well, that It was around 3 in the morning. Scorpius was snoring on the floor next to him. Something that he was already used to, however. But something that he hadn’t come accustomed to was the staring at his ceiling. It had happened once or twice, usually after arguments with his family. And then Christmas. And like Christmas, tonight he just couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t sure what it was about it, but something was just keeping him from sleeping. He turned to his side, staring out of his barely open curtains.
He couldn’t stop thinking about what he overheard his Uncle saying. Was that the biggest problem? Him being friends with Scor and Annie? Would things have been different--no. He stopped his thought. Things wouldn’t have been. They would always find a reason to hate him. Just because he didn’t fight the hat to not be placed into Slytherin. Because, deep down, he knew that was where he belonged. Not in Gryffindor. Not where he would only ever be known as James Potter’s little brother and son of Harry Potter. At least in Slytherin he could make a name for himself.
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It was the next morning. Albus was laying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Again. But instead of being unable to sleep, he was reflecting on his last year. From getting accepted into Hogwarts, to meeting two friends, no, best friends, being put in Slytherin, his family hating him just because of his house. And while the last one still stung, the rest was happy.
There was a knock at his door and then it opened, “Albus? Are you and Scorpius up?” He sat up as his mum asked the question. She gave him a small smile when she saw him, “Okay, well, I see that Scorpius isn’t up, can you maybe wake him up in about 30 minutes. I’m starting breakfast.” And just as she was about to shut the door, she stopped to say, “Lily and Anne are downstairs playing Wizards Chess. I really like that girl, Anne. I can tell she really cares about you and she gets along with Lily well.” She sighed, “And James left about an hour ago. I believe he’s over at Jason’s.”
Albus nodded, “What time is it?”
“It’s nearly 10 am sweetheart.” Albus nodded again as she shut the door once again. He crawled over his bed and shook Scorpius’ sleeping shoulder.
“Dude, wake up, my mums making breakfast.”
Scorpius shot up, “Food?”
Albus snorted at his friend. His dirty blonde hair was sticking out everywhere. “Yes, food.”
Scorpius yawned, “What time is it anyways?”
“It’s nearly 10. My mum just came in to tell me. Apparently James left a few ago and Lils and Annie are downstairs.”
Scorpius scratched the back of his head, “We probably should get down there then, should we?”
Albus shrugged, “It’s up to you man.”
Scorpius stood up, “I want food. So let’s go.”
Albus laughed and followed after his friend.
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Annie’s older brother, Aidan, had come to pick her up around an hour ago and Scorpius had flooed home a few minutes ago. And Albus was back up in his room. Annie was right. This room wasn’t him. Or, at least not who he was now. It reflected him before he started Hogwarts. When he still had this idealized version of what Hogwarts would be like in his head.
That version where he would get into trouble with James. Or he and Oxford Wilde would roll their eyes at Rose and Elisia Finnigan for wanting to study. The version where he wouldn’t stay up late at night because he had a fight with James. Where he wouldn't question what his family thought of him.
He laid down onto his bed. Why did he have to be so different? Why couldn’t he have just asked to be placed in Gryffindor like his dad?
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James had come back later that day, around the time for dinner. It had been silent since everyone sat down. A stark contrast to the previous night. And most other nights. So maybe that was why his mum began to speak.
“Y’know, I really liked your friends Albus. They were both very sweet. Especially Anne.” She glanced at Albus, “I can tell why you keep her around.”
He nodded silently, “Yeah, she’s who keeps Scor in and I in check. She makes sure we get our work done and not get into trouble.”
Albus heard the snort that came from James. And if their parents had heard it, they both chose to ignore it as his dad continues.
“Sounds like Hermione with Ron and I.” He laughed, “I swear I don’t think Ron would have finished school without her. So it’s always good to have a friend like that.”
Albus gave a small smile, “Yeah. And her family helps me with remembering how chaotic our family can be.” He glanced at James when he said ‘our’. Hoping he would stay out of it.
“Right, you said she has...how many siblings?”
“14. 7 older, who are all in Hogwarts, and 7 younger. Two will be coming to Hogwarts next year.”
His mum nodded, “Doubt that there’s ever a dull moment at her home.”
Albus laughed, “Yeah, from what she’s said, there isn’t. Especially when you take into consideration the 16 year age gap between the oldest and youngest.”
He watched as his dad nearly choked on his drink. “I’m sorry, 16 years?”
Albus nodded as he took a bite of his food. “Yeah. Her oldest brother, Aidan, was in his 5th year when her youngest brother, Nicholas, was born.”
His mum shook her head in disbelief, “Wow, I can’t even believe that. Bill and I are only...10 or 11 years apart. All I know is he was going into his first year when I was born.”
“Yeah, that’s the difference between Annie and Nicholas basically. She was born at the end of October of ‘05 and he was at the beginning of October of 2015.”
“I can’t imagine 15 pregnancies. 3 was more than enough for me.”
“Well, it was a little less because there are twins.”
“Either way.”
His dad spoke up again, “How many twins?”
Albus thought about it for a moment. “I’m not sure. You have Aidan, who graduates this year. Then the twins Antonio and Derek, who graduate next year. And then Dominick who is the 5th year prefect this year. Then the next twins are Liam and Randolph, they’re two-ish years older than Annie. Then her sister Genevieve, she’s only a year...well 11 months older. Then Annie. Then the twins Liana and Alexa, who start next year. And then you have Clara, Odette, Elina, Eden, and then Nicholas. So that would be 3 sets of twins.”
“I can’t even imagine.”
“According to Annie, she’s pretty sure that none of them were supposed to happen. Cause her parents weren’t even married when Aidan was born. Plus put in the age difference between most of them. Seems like no one was meant to happen.”
“Well, hopefully their parents love them all.”
Albus nodded, “Oh yeah, their mum loves them a bunch according to them all. She doesn’t always put one away for the other. She tries to give everyone an equal look after.”
His mum nodded, “That’s good...better than some parents that I know of.”
“Can you invite Anne over again? I really liked her. She was fun.”
Albus smiled at Lily, “I’ll talk to her about it.”
Lily nodded, “Good.”
“Are there any other friends we should be aware of?”
He glanced at his dad, “Well...there’s the twins, Rohyn and Robyn Goyle. Holly Avery and Jordan Boles. And then Charlotte Montague. That’s really all who I talk to in my year. Actually, Rohyn is considering trying out for Quidditch next year. He’s trying to convince Scor and I to join him.”
And before anyone could say something, James spoke up, “Can I go to my room please?”
“But you’ve hardly touched your food.”
He was already getting out of his chair when their mum spoke. He just rolled his eyes, “I’m not hungry.”
“James--” Their dad started, “What?” James snapped.
But instead of getting mad at him, like Albus thought that they would, his parents looked at one another before his mum said. “Sure, I’ll just leave some out for you in case you’re hungry later.”
James muttered a ‘whatever’ as he exited the room. Albus watched as his parents sighed before his dad spoke again. “So, Quidditch? Are you considering it?”
Albus shrugged, “Haven’t given it much thought. I’m only really good at Seeker and they already have a Seeker.” He snorted, “Not that he’s any good.”
“Who is it?”
“Annie’s brother, Dominick. He just...I don’t even know if the guy knows how to play. Nothing he does helps the team. I don’t get how he’s stayed on the team for two years now.”
His dad shrugged, “Well, see if next year's Captain will try for all spots. If they do, maybe you can make it.”
“Well what about Scorpius and um...what was his name again?”
“Rohyn?” His mum nodded, “Scor wants Chaser and Rohyn wants Keeper. Both of which will be needed as Aidan is Keeper and William Montague, a 7th year, is a Chaser.”
“Who knows Al, maybe you’ll get lucky and get on the team.”
Albus laughed, “I would feel sorry for Annie and her siblings if I did. Dominick would be complaining for months if he doesn’t make it.” He chuckled softly, “Actually, the way he is reminds me of how you explained Uncle Percy was during school. Prioritizes school and being Prefect and Headboy. Annie said that he wouldn’t even shut up about it when it happened.”
“Oh dear, yeah, that sounds like Percy.” His mum sighed, “Goodluck to all of them for the next 2 years.”
Albus laughed, “I’m sure Annie will appreciate it.” He sighed and stood, “May I go to my room? I’m finished.”
“Oh, sure. Just put your plate in the sink.”
Albus nodded and did what his mum asked and silently walked up to his room. “Y’know, I’ve heard from Rose, and apparently you’re causing Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione to fight. All because you couldn’t help but get into a fight with Rose.”
Albus stopped, his hand frozen above his doorknob. “What?”
“Yeah. They’re fighting and he’s sleeping on the couch. Mum and dad were talking about it too. How does that feel? Knowing that you are the reason our family can’t get along. Because you didn’t honor--”
“Shut up.” He mumbled.
“What?” James questioned, condescendingly.
“I said, shut up.”
“Why? I haven’t said anything that isn’t true.”
But instead of arguing, like he so deeply wanted to, Albus just sighed and opened his door. But to make it known to James that he was mad at him, he slammed his door. Completely ignoring his mum yelling at him to not do it.
Albus didn’t even bother with changing out of his clothes, he just fell face first on his bed, passing out not long after. Because slowly he was realizing that James would never change. That he would never be who Albus used to think he was.
But he didn’t want to admit it, not just yet. Not at 11.
#harry#potter#harry potter#next#gen#next gen#harry potter next gen#harry potter next gen fic#harry potter oc#harry potter next gen oc#oc#albus potter#scorpius malfoy#easy to hate#easy to hate chapter 6
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no bc coming up with ideas is SO hard its not talked abt enough. I find the writing moderately easy but with a lot of my fics it takes me so long to flesh out ideas for the actual story instead of one big idea.. ti's a curse
literally like I actually burned through that zelink fic I wrote cause I just for once actually knew the whole time what was going to happen like putting down a bunch of bullshit and going back to fix the bullshit later and make it not bullshit is actually remarkably easy for me if there's anything I can do it's ramble but coming up with ideas for the specific bullshit??? well brother you can just die
#I kind of wonder if I found the fic writing so easy just cause of a combo of the zelink fixation being really powerful#and the dunning krueger effect? like I never write I've hardly written so I'm not an experienced writer#which means I find the writing easier and like it better bc I don't have the experience to know enough about if it's bad you know?#whereas like. everytime I attempt drawing. I am good enough at drawing to know my drawings are bad so I hate it#like I was thinking it could possibly be that?? cause I was like there is no way the writing part of it is regularly this easy#but so far my only 2 problems have been coming up with ideas or being bored with the idea#(loz byler au. first chapter unfortunately bores the shit out of me which is why it's been like 6 months since I started that)#but yeah if I like the idea and want to see it really bad I can do it I JUST NEED IDEAS😭#BUT I'M CONSTANTLY SEEING MY ACTUAL AUTHOR FRIENDS BE LIKE “SO MANY IDEAS NO MOTIVATION”#ask#anon
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hello i’ve just finished reading horcrux hunt and !!!!!!!! in ch 23 when remus is thinking about the full moon of december 1981????? and he thinks about pete????? the fuckin!! line!! about how one night a month he may feel something like forgiveness for him!??? utterly devastating i will be thinking about it from now till forever and ever amen
hi sweetie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
those couple paragraphs are literally so important to me i am !!!!! that you said this literally !!!!!!!!! smooch me
i just am obsessed with making the point that someone can do something horrible and terrible and you can hate them passionately and completely, but you can still miss them at the same time... i hope it comes across because it's just such a depressing concept to me and i love it lol. like peter ruined everything for remus he betrayed him and was responsible for the deaths of his friends and he's still ruining things, even though he's been found out and cut off and whatever, because he's ruining remus's grief by the fact that no matter how much hatred he feels for pete, he still misses him!!!! horrible horrible
anyway. that's actually where the title of the sequel came from!!!! and without giving any spoilers, the last chapter of the missing link is going to have a... idk what the right word to use is, but like, a response to that paragraph/thought/concept, if that makes sense?
either way love you forever for giving me the opportunity for a mini rant!!!!!
(the paragraphs in question are below the cut!)
Remus will never forget the full moon that fell in December of 1981; not for the rest of his life, and likely not even after his death. It’s not often that you realise the moment you’re in the middle of living will be the memory you draw your Patronus from, and perhaps even more astounding than that is the idea that something so pure and good and light could come from the part of Remus that has always been the darkest. He has long since made peace with the idea that the Wolf’s mind bled into his own, and has always known that the Marauders meant more to him than just friends – that they were pack – but it wasn’t until that night that Remus truly understood the meaning of the word. He felt connected to James and Sirius on a level so deep he felt it at his very core; the feeling of an indescribable sense of belonging, of love and trust and awareness, a bond that had once only truly belonged to the Wolf now belonging to them both.
But there was someone missing. He hadn’t realised it at the time – two minds occupying the body of the Wolf, harmonious in their happiness – but when Remus thinks back to that night and the bond that he had felt solidify and settle in his chest, he can feel the soft, wistful absence of a missing link. He hates the idea that Peter’s betrayal reaches far enough to throw a shadow over the brightest moon he’s ever seen, but the worst part of it all is that when Remus recalls the memory of the hollow space that Peter left, his melancholy tastes of longing, of yearning, and not of anger. Forgiveness is not something he feels for the rat, and yet one night a month, it seems like he may.
#someone asked me a q#lovely wonderful babe#the missing link#chimaera & the wolf#the horcrux hunt#this is literally where TML came from#well not entirely but the last chapter of TML is completely inspired by these two paragraphs#i'm so excited for it to like close the circuit or whatever#i dont know how to put it into words#anyway#kisses!#also i love/hate looking back at my writing across this series because there are two main obvious things to me that have improved#i actually know how to use an m dash now which i absolutely did not previousl#and i actually use PARAGRAPHS#the beginning of THH is so bad for it#i had this weird misconception that paragraphs had to be like 6 lines long and it was stupid to make them shorter#what a dumb thought#anyway this is proof lol this should be like 4 or 5 paras easy#anyway we learn and we grow baby
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LIVES CHANGED
Part II: Things do Change
8.9k words
Warnings: Angst, Eddie being dumb, past Eddie x reader, mom!reader x dad! eddie munson
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chapter 1
AN: I am so sorry for the wait, I had this whole plan to release this fic along with a reader only fic of her life after Eddie left but I made the stupid decision to apply for summer college courses thinking it would be easy LOL IM DUMB. Though the first week of classes passed and I have got it under control now. Though classes might slow down this series so bear with me, but I have planned about 5-6 parts for the series so stay tuned.
I hope you enjoy this series, and this part.
Eddie breathed a deep sigh as he rolled over, trying to catch his breath, sweat beading down his head. He stared at the ceiling, feeling sticky and dirty. He turned, reaching for the side table grabbing his lighter and a pack of cigarettes, placing one between his lips and lighting it. Blonde hair appeared over him, a manicured hand settling over his chest.
“Down for another round?” the sultry voice said, leaning over Eddie, resting her body against his chest. Taking the cigarette from between his lips and taking a hit for herself.
He stared at her for a second, “Can’t, Honey. Gotta meet the boys”
She pouted and leaned over to kiss him, before handing him back the cigarette before hoping off him going to collect her clothes. Eddie got up, putting out the cigarette and picking up his clothes, already planning a hot shower for when he arrived home.
“Well I had fun. We should do this again sometime” She asked from her place behind him, Eddie’s back was turned to her, slipping on his jeans.
“Maybe… I-I don’t know” Eddie mumbled, it was low but it was enough for her to hear him. She laughed but it wasn’t bitter but as if she expected this.
“Y’know this is why they call you Man-Whore Munson” She grabbed her bag and moved in front of him, as he buttoned his pants.
“Jules I-” Eddie started, an apology on his tongue when Jules held up her red manicured finger telling him to stop and shut up.
“Don’t start with me Eddie, I knew what this was. Like I said, you are known as Man-Whore Munson, I didn’t expect you to drop down on a knee and propose after a few fucks” He winced at the vulgarity, he knew that’s what the truth of it was but even after all the late nights he had, he hated facing the reality of it. Of the life he had chosen for himself.
“Just let me say, from one slut to another” Jules started without an air of care.
“You're not a slut, Jules” Eddie tried having known Jules for awhile, as she had been a groupie in his second world tour mostly joining because she hoped to catch Jeff’s attention. Which poor oblivious Jeff never caught on to which inevitably left her to seek refuge in Eddie’s bed.
“Shut it Munson, there’s no need to feel bad. Your a good fuck and a decent guy. But as I was saying, I do this because I want to, I have fun. You however seem like a kicked puppy after every fuck, it’s depressing and to be honest, it’s quite a turn off” She said with her usual amount of sass.
“Well that’s something every guy wants to hear” Eddie replied, in annoyance hoping to get out of this conversation as soon as possible.
“All I’m saying is work your shit out. This life ain’t for everyone.” She shrugged, grabbing her bag, kissing him on the cheek, her red lips staining his cheek as she strutted her way out of the room.
As she opened the door, she stopped turning back for a second “Or you could do all of us and yourself a favor and go back to the one”
“How are you so sure I have met the one?” Rolled his eyes, trying to prevent the ache in his heart at the thought.
“Oh hope off it Munson. With guys like you, there is always the one” She smirked, noticing the look on Eddie’s face. “See you later” she shouted, shutting the door behind her.
Leaving Eddie alone in the smoky, dingy motel room, her words lingering in his head. He thought about the one. You.
Memories of your laughter echoed in his mind, you and him sipping milkshakes, giggling at his dramatic displays of affection, the soft whines and moans you let him pull out of you. Eddie caught him smiling to himself for a second before the worst memory of all entered his mind, attacking and killing all the rest.
Your heartbroken face, eyes red rimmed with tears streaming down, then you getting in your car and driving away from him. He shook his head and proceeded to put on his shirt, gathering his leather jacket and making his way out.
Stardom had been everything he had expected it to be. Late nights, crazy concerts, lots and lots of drugs and beautiful women throwing themselves at him. He was living his dream, but there was something in Eddie that never was able to enjoy it.
No matter how many drugs he ingested or how many women he took to bed, nothing made him forget about you. About your sweetness, about how it felt to have you in his arms or how it felt to laugh with you, how it felt to be in you, or how devastating it felt to see you heartbroken and know he was the cause of it.
The days after the break up Eddie had put on a front, focusing all his energy and mind into his new life, the dream he had chosen over you. He had to, because if this life. The life he had chosen over a simple quiet one with you turned into another failure in Eddie Munson’s life he would never have been able to forgive himself. The funny thing was, everything turned out to be wonderful.
Corroded Coffin’s first album was a hit, one song landing on the top ten and playing on MTV. To be fair the first few months were quite a blur, he had been grieving all he left behind in Hawkins. Eddie hadn’t expected to miss the small town so much, but his break up with you had hit harder once he had arrived in LA.
He had tried so many drugs that year, he could barely remember their first national tour. Then the amount of women that had wanted a taste of the lead singer, Jules was probably right about the nickname he was given because Eddie Munson indeed became a Man Whore. Screwing almost every groupie or model that looked his way.
Then came Corroded Coffin’s second album which only solidified the band's status in LA and in the music world. Eddie had eased up on the drugs but still had his fair share at parties and an occasional joint during band practice. After that he became more selective of his female conquests, trying to avoid any woman that even reminded him of you.
Which wasn’t particularly hard, you were one in a million.
The band mates had called him out on his proclivities which had irritated him, he hated facing the reality of his love life because if he faced reality, he would have to face that there would never be another you. That you were out of his life indefinitely, he could handle the break up but to face the painful fact that he would one day fall in love with someone else or that you already had. Eddie couldn’t handle that, it hurt too much, to think that it was all truly over. Along with the fact that, it was entirely his fault.
Gareth had reminded him of the fact consistently which had led to countless fights between the two, always claiming that if it weren’t for you, Corroded Coffin wouldn’t be where they were at. That you should be with them instead of Jules or Lila or Janice or any of the numbers of women Eddie had invited into their tour bus.
Eddie knew Gareth was right but he couldn’t face it, could never face the truth, or the choice he had made. He should’ve ran to you, invited you along. Or he could have just stayed.
Though that was all in the past now, Eddie was here in the present and in the present he would shack up with Jules or Lila or Janice until any memory of you was pushed to the back of his mind.
Now on their third world tour, Corroded Coffin was currently staying in some motel room in Philadelphia. He had sprung for a motel room, not wanting to hear all the complaints that Jeff, Gareth and Doug would have for him. He was fully prepared to walk onto the tour bus and see Jeff’s judgemental gaze and hear an insult flying from Gareth’s mouth but it never came.
When he fully entered the bus, he could see Jeff on the phone, a lone tear falling from his eyes as Doug sat beside him, patting him on the back in comfort. Both Gareth and Doug looked at Jeff with pity and sadness in their eyes as well.
“Aye What-What Happened?” Eddie whispered softly in panic not wanting to interrupt whatever terrible phone call Jeff had received early in the morning.
Gareth turned to him, voice soft as well “Jeff’s dad died early this morning, they said it was a stroke”
Gareth’s voice wavered slightly delivering the news, and Eddie felt like he had received a punch in the gut. Jeff’s father had been like a third father to Eddie (After Wayne of course) always encouraging the boys to keep pursuing their dreams, he even helped Eddie fix up the van and taught him how to change a tire.
The boys had stayed silent as Jeff finished his somber phone call with his grieving mother, more tears tracked down Jeff’s face. He sat silent for a second, trying to find the words to say, but only four words came from his mouth. Four words that while Eddie understood were probably the last words Eddie had wanted to hear that morning.
“We gotta go home”
Three knocks rapped against your front door.
“I’ll be right there” You shouted from inside the bathroom. Your eyes scanned the version of you in the mirror, looking for anything out of place. You adjusted your dress once more before running out the bathroom, you turned to look at the clock on the wall. You were a little behind schedule but being behind schedule has become your new normal in the past six years.
You swung open the door, smiling at the older man on the other side. “Wayne” you breathed out “Thank you so much for coming on such short notice” You moved to the side letting the man into your home.
“Oh don’t worry about it, Darling. You know I can never stop myself from saying no to you” Wayne said sweetly. You could only smile back at the man you had known since you were fifteen.
You could feel his gaze on you, scanning your new hair do and freshly applied makeup that you had spent hours on.
“You look wonderful, Darling. First anniversary is it? getting real serious ain’t it?” Wayne asked, eyebrows raised in question. Though you could hear the teasing tone in his voice. You didn’t much like talking about your love life with anyone, especially Wayne but it was hard to keep it a secret when he frequented your life so often.
“I don’t know about that. H-He’s nice” you shrugged trying to hide the pink coloring your cheeks, twiddling with your fingers out of nervousness.
“Well you deserve nice, darling, and don’t worry on about me. I don’t tell that boy nothin” Wayne replied his voice turning sour as he said the last half, and an old ache settled in your chest.
“Thank you Wayne but you don’t need to be so angry on my account” You pleaded with him knowing that while he still loved and cared for his nephew, even he held the same amount of resentment at the boy as you did.
“I will be as angry as I like. Only a fool could ever let a gal like you go. Now let me and Miss Izzy be on our way. We don’t wanna keep lover boy waiting” He winked at you but also reminded you of how late you already were for your plans.
“Right. Izzy! Sweetie, Grandpa Wayne is here” You shouted before turning back to the older man, only a few seconds passed before you could hear the light steps of a small child running on the wood floors.
“GRAMPA WAYNE” The young girl yelled as she ran towards Wayne. A red and black stuffed bunny hanging from her fingers as jumped into the older man's arms. Him picking her up and raising her to the sky without a care to his own health.
“Izzy, what did I say about running to Grandpa Wayne like that? You're gonna hurt him” You scolded your five year old daughter.
“I’m sowwy, Grampa” The small girl said toward Wayne. Her eyes wide pleading for forgiveness, showcasing the same dramatics she could have only received from her father. Though while she bared a striking resemblance to your childhood self, there was no denying who her father was. Isabel was her father’s daughter, both in looks but in personality.
“Oh, it’s alright, Sweets. I’ll carry you and throw you until my back snaps in two” he said to the five year old, her giggling at his words.
“Again, thank you so much Wayne. My mom was supposed to babysit but she just came down with the flu. I can pay you if you’d like?” You explained, you didn’t mind Wayne babysitting your daughter as he had been there for the two of you since the day his nephew had left Hawkins. Though there was a small part of you that hated asking him for too much.
“Like I said Darling, no need to thank me. Spending anytime with my sweet grandbaby is enough payment.” He said lightly tickling the girl in his arms, her laughter spreading delight in the small house.
“You look pwetty mommy” She said, turning in her grandfather’s arms to touch your powdered face with her small fingers.
“Thank you Darling” You beamed and took a step closer, “Okay Sweet Pea, You will be spending the night with Grandpa Wayne but I will be bright and early to pick you up okay?” You explained adjusting the sweater around her torso, making sure she would be safe in the cold air.
Your daughter nodded her head, wrapping her arms around your neck from her place in Wayne’s arms “Otay Mommy” She replied, her little fingers getting stuck in your hair and probably messing up the hairstyle you spent 40 minutes on.
“Be very good for Grandpa Wayne and when I pick you up we can go for pancakes. How does that sound?”
The girl's eyes went wide with excitement as she began wiggling in her Grandfather’s hold, “Can we get a milkshake too?” she asked eyes pleading to you. You giggled at your daughters face, you could never say no to her.
“Of course, sweet pea but you got to be good for Wayne”
“I will be so so good. I promith” The young girl replied, you only smiled back at her, a moment of guilt filled you not wanting to leave your sweet girl. Though you couldn't deny the excitement in your gut for the night.
Wayne and Izzy made their way out the door, before driving off to spend the night at Wayne’s trailer. You composed yourself, fixing your hair from the mess your daughter had made before grabbing your purse and meeting the man who was currently waiting patiently for you.
“You look beautiful” He said, a twinkle in his eyes as they surveyed your face and your body.
You felt yourself blush, it had been a long time since someone had looked at you with such hungry eyes. Though now after a year of dating, you supposed it should’ve felt casual, normal but a small part of you still wanted to shrink into yourself, to run away. Though your mothers words rang in your head.
“You can’t hide away forever. You are hot stuff, you gotta move on with your life eventually”
So instead of instantly running away, you accepted the compliment and thanked the man in front of you. You had met him at a bar when you went out for your co-worker Steve's birthday. You had walked outside to call your mom to check in on Izzy. (and to avoid the music blaring inside the bar.)
When the man with chocolate brown hair, and a gray suit with his tie undone walked up to you. He had flirted with you unashamedly and then bought you a drink. When the night was over you had danced twice and he had slipped you a card with his name and number on it.
‘Adam Linden, Hawkins Post Journalist’
(260) - 555- 6784
You were wary of putting your heart out there again, though the feelings he gave you, were so refreshing. You hadn’t realized how in need of affection you were until you were being showered in it. You didn’t want to give love a try after Izzy’s father left. You spent the first three years focused solely on school and motherhood showering a baby Izzy with all the love and affection of two parents, while receiving very little for yourself.
You had gone on a date with Steve Harrington, but that only made you realize that you and him wouldn’t work out, mostly because Izzy’s father had left you distrustful and insecure. After that, you mostly avoided dating, not wanting the judgment that came with you being a single mother, or the fear of having your heart broken.
But when one Adam Linden strolled up to you, a cigarette hanging from his lips and a promise to buy you a drink, absent from any music or memory of a man from the past.
You wouldn’t deny, you were not completely comfortable, your dates with a certain Munson boy were always relaxed. Pizza dinners, movies, Bob’s diner whereas dates with Adam were five star restaurants and office parties. Though Adam seemed entirely interested in you, and it felt good. To be desired, to be wanted. The change of relationship was daunting, but every date you had with Adam there was a flicker of the dream you let go of. The dream of a true family, with a loving husband and children running underfoot.
Adam was a perfect choice to fulfill your dreams, he was kind, understanding, and had a stable job. He wasn’t the kind of man to run away from you for a better job, he would take you with him, buy you a house with a white picket fence. You would be content, and your Izzy would have a father.
When you were younger it was an image of a perfect home with you baking cookies with two kids, a husband with his hair pulled up and into a bun, with a few curls hanging loose. Him putting on a vinyl as he came to dance with one of the children, stealing a bite of the cookie dough. A perfect husband and two faceless, nameless children.
The dream was different now though, one of the children wasn't faceless or nameless, She was a bright bubbly little girl named Isabel who enjoyed dragons and princesses, who had the wildest curls and the biggest brown eyes. Who was born with all the confidence you lacked but matched you in curiosity, who was too dramatic for her own good. You could see her with another little sister or brother, being careful as she taught them how to properly mix the pancake batter or there could be an oopsie. Now the picture of your husband was different, he probably wouldn’t worry about playing music or stealing cookie dough. You could picture Adam there with you, he probably would be the kind of man to sit at the table and read the newspaper with his coffee, or maybe he would be at work, or maybe he would be right by your side helping the children?
“Babe?” Adam asked, your mind returned to the present. Your hand on a wine glass, and a half-finished grilled salmon on your plate. Adam had his brows furrowed looking at you.
“Sorry, today was tiring. I zoned out a bit, what were you saying?” You gave a tired trying smile after you explained. Your mind returns back to the present, to the man in front of you.
He smiled softly at you, he opened his mouth to say something but quickly stopped when the waiter came to collect your plates, sliding a piece of chocolate cake in front of you.
“I didn’t order this” You spoke to the waiter.
“I did, babe. I know you love chocolate cake” You blushed at the gesture; you wouldn’t say it was your absolute favorite, but the thought is what counted.
“Thank You, Adam. I do love some cake” You tried to joke but it seemed to fall on deaf ears with only Adam looking at you intently with a sort of look that made you want to run for the hills.
When you grabbed your fork, you moved the plate slightly for a better cut. That is when you noticed the shimmering jewelry hidden by the pastry. You turned the plate fully to reveal a glittering diamond ring sat next to the chocolate cake. Staring at you, asking a question.
You felt absolutely sick at the sight, but when the man before you stood up from his seat and kneeled before you. A hopeful look in his eyes, and lovely words spouting from his mouth, the looks of dozens of curious restaurant guests staring at you.
The dream flickered once more, so instead of running from fear. You accepted it.
“Yes, i’ll— I would be delighted to marry you”
Eddie’s car pulled up to the trailer. It had been almost six years since had been back, not wanting to return to his one pony town but the worst crises do bring people back together.
Eddie hadn’t felt nerves like this since his first real concert in LA but this was much worse. He wasn’t nervous at all when he was on the plane but that could’ve been because of all the whiskey he had decided to drink before taking flight.
Walking up the steps of his home and knocking on the trailer door like he was a stranger, made Eddie feel homesick for the first time in years. When the door opened, the air of home filled his senses, not only the smell of his trailer which arguably was just old furniture and cigarette smoke but it also was the sight of the man who raised him. Wayne.
“Wayne” Eddie breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for the man in front of him. He had spent so many years in La La Land running from reality, living in some parallel universe but he was finally here. It was unfortunate that it took the death of one Mathew Davis to bring him back to earth but Eddie was back home.
While Eddie was on the plane, drunk out of his mind, watching a grieving Jeff cry over his father, Eddie felt fear. That maybe he would return home, and find everything different and that he could be in Jeff’s position. Grieving over someone he left behind, but here was Wayne Munson, seemingly healthy but undeniably alive and still in his trailer.
Like nothing had changed.
“Eddie” Wayne smiled for half a second before bringing Eddie into his arms, hugging the boy who was a son to him. As swiftly as Wayne hugged him, he let go and folded his arms back to himself. A stern look settled in his face, like a wall being put up. Eddie felt something change, like he was about to be scolded for the first time in six years, Eddie stood awkwardly beneath the harsh stare of Wayne Munson.
“So are you gonna let me in?” Eddie asked after a few seconds. Wayne, still silent, backed up, and moved to the side, letting Eddie into the trailer.
Eddie surveyed his surroundings, everything was practically the same. There were some appliances that were changed out like the tv and the microwave, most likely bought from the money Eddie would send Wayne sometimes. Though the old couch that had cigarette burns was all the same. It was simply an old couch that many even Eddie would talk crap upon but Eddie could only feel happy at the sight of it. A wave of memories filled Eddie’s mind as he took in the sight of the old grandma couch and the smell of stale air.
His first night with Wayne after his mom left, A young small Eddie laying on the couch, finally asleep with dried tears on his face while Wayne covered him with a blanket.
Then at age 12, sitting on the couch with the coffee table moved to be right in front of him while the boys sat on the carpet surrounding him. It was his first D&D game as a dungeon master.
You and him at 15, making out on the couch, you on top then him on top, limbed intertwined. You and him at 16, cuddling and eating popcorn as Wayne sat on his usual chair, watching horror movies, with temporary smiles on all of your faces.
Eddie stepped forward and sat on the couch, the cushion sinking in from the weight. His fingers grazed the side of the couch, but a bright shade of red caught his sight. Slightly poking out from underneath one of the pillows. Curiosity getting the best of him, Eddie reached and plucked out what seemed to be a red and black stuffed bunny.
“Wayne, What the hell is this?” Eddie held up the stuffed animal with a few fingers showcasing it but Wayne quickly tore it from his fingers, as if Eddie had accidentally grabbed Wayne’s favorite pair of underwear.
Eddie was confused by the sight of the stuffed animal in what was supposed to be a childless old man's home, but Eddie became even more put off by the fact that Wayne adjusted the bunny in his hands before setting it gently down next to the television as if it was some prized jewel. Eddie stared at Wayne with a look that begged him to explain his odd behavior along with the strange discovery.
“It’s a gift for the Byers” Wayne explained but even after years apart, Eddie knew there was something off about Wayne.
“The Byers?” Eddie titled his head in question, unbelieving of the explanation.
“Yes, Joyce Byers was telling me that Jonathan and his wife, Nancy, finally got pregnant. So i bought this as a gift” Eddie didn’t fully buy the explanation as last he remembered Jonathan Byers couldn’t even talk to a girl, let alone Nancy Wheeler, but it had been a long time. The same thing could have been said about him once. Though even with that explanation Eddie was still unsure, or maybe he was still hungover from the bottle he drank before getting on the plane to Hawkins.
“Oh good for them then” Eddie smiled his usual smile but Wayne didn’t smile, or laugh or give him a funny remark, simply stared as if he was sizing him up. Eddie shrank into himself like he was fourteen again getting caught for stealing one of Wayne’s beers. Wayne sighed, and shook his head softly, preparing for the talk ahead.
“What are you doing here, Ed?” sitting down next to Eddie with a face full of contempt.
“Jeff’s dad died. Didn’t you hear?” Eddie didn’t understand Wayne’s reaction, Eddie didn’t expect a party but he half expected Wayne to be happy to see him. Though now it seemed like he wanted nothing more than Eddie out of his house.
The distance between Eddie and Wayne now, with them in the same room seated on the same couch felt far greater than it did when they were 2,000 miles apart. Eddie knew some people in town wouldn’t be too excited to see him but he never anticipated Wayne’s reaction to be this cold.
“I know that, prolly knew before you did. So that’s why you're here, for the funeral and then you're off again?”
Eddie sighed, taking a look around the trailer, everywhere but at the older man. He knew why Wayne was upset now, it almost felt like deja vu for Eddie. It was his breakup with you all over again. Like you, Wayne seemed to be angry that Eddie followed his dreams, was able to get out of shithole Hawkins. It irritated Eddie, he had made it big but just like you, and Gareth and the rest of the boys, Wayne only seemed to care for Eddie’s failures more than his triumphs.
“I don’t know why you make it seem so bad. I’m a rockstar Wayne” Eddie tried to reason with the older man but Wayne just let out a disbelieving scoff.
“So I've heard. You're a rock star when it’s a holiday, when it’s a birthday, when you have a girl crying to you. You’re always a rock star” Wayne stood up from the couch and took a few steps away as if he couldn’t stand to be near his nephew in those moments.
Eddie tried to ignore the pang of guilt he felt at the mention of you, but he only scoffed and directed any of his guilty feelings back at Wayne. “You didn’t seem to complain about me being a rock star when you needed a new tv, or you hurt your hand at work and needed to pay the bill. You're just mad I actually got out of this shithole unlike you” the venomous words fell out of Eddie’s mouth and there was no taking them back.
Once again, Eddie Munson stood in his place in this trailer saying things he did not mean to someone who meant the world to him. Eddie had regretted the things he said to you the second he said them, and once again he felt the familiar regret seep into his body and make his heart ache and his throat thick. Just like before, he didn’t try to apologize, and simply sat there, dumbfounded by his own words.
Wayne seemed unfazed, almost predicting this of his nephew. If the words did hurt, Wayne didn’t let it show. Though his disappointment in the boy in front of him was clear as day, practically emanating off his stoic form.
Wayne shook his head in disbelief “I always knew you were thick in the head, boy, but I thought I had raised you to be better than this. I ain't mad that you made it, I'm proud that you got out of this shithole. I’m just mad that you never came home, not once did you look back. I was waiting for you to. if i had known that someone dying would’ve brought you home, i would’ve died years ago.”
The words hit Eddie harder, another shot hitting his heart as an ache grew all over his chest, and like blood a new found guilt seeped into his body. Eddie’s anger deflated as he simply watched as Wayne began to move around the trailer seeming to collect things. Eddie had no words for Wayne, not knowing what to say or what he could say to fix things. Eddie didn’t think there was anything that could make up for how he made Wayne feel.
“Wayne” Eddie tried but Wayne didn’t seem to care what he had to say. Lifting up a hand as he put on a jacket and slung a lunch bag decorated in a few stickers over his shoulder.
“It doesn't matter, Eds. Your home now, just don’t drink any of my beers and we’ll be fine until you go” Wayne sounded tired, but he only moved toward the door trying to get away from his nephew. Eddie stood up as if he was gonna follow him but he didn't move from his place or say a word, frozen. “I gotta go to work. I’ll see you later”
“Work? What happened to your night shifts?” Eddie asked, the question was genuine as Eddie had only ever known Wayne to work night shifts, but Eddie also knew it was just an excuse to keep Wayne around just a little bit longer. To try and find the words to fix what he had destroyed.
“Things change.” Wayne said dejectedly, opening the door to try to leave but as if Eddie’s time was running out he asked one more thing abruptly. Eddie didn’t know why he asked, why it was the first thing to fall from his lips, he just knew he needed to know before Wayne left for work.
“Wait. Wayne, before you go. Can I-I— Do you- Um do you know if she still lives around here? Or anything about her?” Eddie asked with a pleading look in his eyes, he didn’t even know if he wanted to know. What if you were terrible, unhappy and alone without him? Or what if it was the opposite, what if you were perfectly happy and even better without him? He wasn’t sure which he preferred, they both made him want to cry.
Wayne stopped and turned around to look at Eddie, this time all the stoicness of Wayne Munson left and only a look of disappointment and resentment showed clear on his face.
“I may have sat on that couch waiting for you to come home, but that doesn't mean she did. Not all of us can wait six years. Like I said, things change, Eddie”
Yeah, Eddie Munson was starting to get that.
Eddie had stood in his place for longer than he wanted to admit, after the exchange he had with Wayne he didn’t know what to do. He also hadn’t been home for years, he couldn’t just go back to smoking in his room or playing his guitar. He couldn’t hang with the boys as they were all probably hanging out with their own families, most likely having a better welcome home than Eddie had received. They actually visited their families in the past six years.
Eddie walked around the trailer mindlessly, smiling at the memories but frowning at all the changes in his family home. The tv, the microwave, the ripped stitch in Wayne’s old chair had been fixed, there was no longer a dinner chair that rocked because it was uneven. It had all been replaced.
Eddie’s eyes stopped when he reached the refrigerator seeing a drawing. It wasn’t the best drawing clearly drawn by a child, it was all stick figures. One was a stick figure of a man with three hairs coming out of his head, Eddie let out a chuckle when he read the name above the figure.
‘Wayne’
What confused Eddie were the other two figures, one of a young girl with their loops on her head, she wore a red dress and was holding on to the stick figure of Wayne and another stick figure of a woman with a blue dress. The words ‘Izzy’ and ‘mommy’ written over their heads.
Eddie looked back to the red and black bunny that sat proper next to the television. Did Wayne have a lady friend that he never told him about? Eddie thought to himself.
Eddie was unsure of his idea, but he hoped it might be true. It would mean Wayne wasn’t alone all these years. Eddie chose to ignore the drawing for now, hoping to question Wayne for answers when he got home. He was about to reach inside for a beer when he remembered Wayne’s words not to drink any of his beers. Usually, Eddie would have ignored the request, and simply would have taken one and laughed it off later when Wayne would scold him, but that was a long time ago. Wayne was never this angry at Eddie before, he didn’t want to push it, especially if he had a chance to make it better.
So Eddie closed the refrigerator door, and reached for his rental car keys in his pocket. Melvalds would still be around, while things were sure different now. There was no chance Hawkins would get rid of one of its only few stores, there had to be a place for all these people to get a pack of cigarettes and beers.
Eddie was about to be on his way when the phone rang, like if he was a teenager once again Eddie reached for the phone answering in his usual jokingly manner “Munson Residence”
The line was silent. “Hello?” Eddie asked but no answer, the line then quickly cut off before Eddie had the chance to ask if anyone was there. Eddie waited for a few seconds, maybe it was a bad line and they would call again but nothing.
Eddie shook off the interaction making his way out of the door, back to his previous plans.
After the proposal, you felt as if you were in a daze, far from reality. You had heard from some of your friends that the prospect of getting married was ‘an unreal experience’ though you were unsure if this is what they meant. When you went to pick up Izzy from Wayne’s that night, you hadn’t said anything, you even took off the bright engagement ring from your finger for those few minutes.
You didn’t not want to get married but thought you should at least feel overjoyed. Now in this moment though, as you had a half eaten plate of waffles and fruit in front of you, you knew you had to talk to your favorite person. Who was currently sitting right in front of you, with a sticky face from all the syrup of her pancakes, who was currently begging for the milkshake she was promised.
“Once you are finished with your food, I will order the shake. Just eat now, sweet pea” You explained softly, but as you watched as the little girl stuffed her face with another giant bite of food. You couldn't help the laugh that fell from your lips at the sight
“Okay maybe eat a little slower” You leaned forward to wipe her face with a napkin, feeling slightly lighter now that you looked at her.
Izzy was the light of your life for the past six years, your reason for getting up in the morning, the reason you could smile in the darkest of moments. Even before she was born she helped you get through your first heartbreak and even after she was born, you knew you could never love anything as much.You wanted her to be as happy as she made you, everything you did was for her. Which is probably why this conversation was so hard to start.You knew she wouldn’t mind a father but would she like having Adam as her father?
You were unsure how to approach the conversation with someone so young. This wasn’t just a life change for you but for her as well. Izzy had met Adam before but only a few times, and you still didn’t know how she felt about ‘mommy’s friend’.
You had been hesitant for a while for Izzy to meet Adam, he had known you were a mother but you feared actually meeting her would change everything, especially if Izzy didn’t like him. It wasn’t until the 10th date that he had briefly met Izzy, he had greeted her when he was picking you up for a date. He had brought you a bouquet of flowers that Izzy had just loved.
So the second time had been a much more formal greeting, where he had introduced himself, giving her a much smaller bouquet of flowers asking her if he could take her mommy out for dinner. The girl too mesmerized by the flowers said yes but you could tell she was a bit reluctant to see you go with the man she barely knew. The few other times the three of you had time together was when he had breakfast with you and Izzy one morning after he and you spent the night together. Izzy had never been a shy child but she seemed to become one around Adam, never speaking to him directly. She seemed to grow more comfortable after the three of you went out one night for his annual family christmas party. Though it was more likely to have to do with Adam’s family dog than Adam himself.
“So sweet pea, you know mommy’s friend Adam right?” You broached delicately, moving to sit closer to her in the diner booth.
She hummed but didn’t seem to pay attention to you, only focusing on finishing her pancakes. “He smells funny,” she said absentmindedly, finishing a bite. You chuckled lightly, understanding she meant Adam’s love and slight overuse of cologne.
“Yes he does smell funny” You agreed before broaching the subject. “Ho-How would you feel if Adam was around a little more?” You tried to read your daughter’s face but you weren’t even sure she would understand what you meant.
She tilted her head in thought, her lips pursing to the side deep in thought. “Like Grandpa Wayne?” She asked before eating her final piece of pancake.
You let out a fake awkward laugh “No no, sweet pea. More like a daddy” You cringed as you spoke the words, your body stiffening in preparation for her response. Your daughter looked at you surprised, you tried to smile but you were definitely not expecting what she would do next. She laughed.
“You so silly mommy. Adam don’t look like daddy” She only giggled and looked at you in disbelief, to say you were confused was a little to say the least. You tried to laugh with her but you were still unsure of what she meant.
“What do you mean sweet pea?” You asked leaning closer to her as she stared at you with a smile, her fingers moving her hair away, something you noticed, knowing she would have to take a bath later.
“Daddies got long hair, curly like mine. I remember. Adam don’t have that. He has short hair.” She explained as if it was the most obvious thing but it only made your chest ache.
You understood now, she was talking to her about her real father and now you knew she was confused because of you. You had mistakenly shown Izzy a photo of her father and you from highschool.
It was after her first week of school, she had come home crying that everyone else had ‘daddies’ but she only had a ‘mommy’ which is when you explained to her that her daddy was ‘far away’ and showed her the photo. It was of you both at seventeen in Hellfire shirts, his arms wrapped around your middle from behind as you looked up at him, dazed and in love and he looked at the camera, smiling. Ironic.
“Well I- Iz. Your daddy– He–. Remember when I said that daddy was far away. He is still away, and Adam H-He is right here. He would be like a new daddy? ” Your voice broke slightly as you explained, admittedly it was probably a bad explanation but you didn’t know how to.When it came to your dad your mom only told you that he was in the sky, and you never had asked for her to elaborate but you came to understand what that meant with age.
Izzy only stared at you with a confused expression, her lips pursed once again. You could tell she didn’t fully understand what you meant by ‘away’ but she didn’t need to understand that her father was away because he didn’t want her or you. You barely understood yourself.
“But what if daddy comes back from twip” She tilted her head in question once again, she was only asking a genuine question in her mind. Though she didn’t understand how much she was breaking your heart. After you had initially told Izzy about her father and him being ‘Away’ she seemed to chipper up and became indifferent, but now you knew. She wasn’t indifferent because she stopped caring about having a father, she was still waiting for him to come back.
You were now in Bob’s diner on the verge of tears, how were you supposed to explain it to her without hurting her feelings.Before you could find the right words, Izzy interrupted you.
“I fink I forgot Ozzy, mommy”
This caught you off guard, you had been so wrapped off in your thoughts and post-proposal daze that you hadn't even noticed that the bright red bunny that Izzy had humorously named Ozzy was not attached to her or anywhere in sight. “Did you leave it at Grandpa Wayne’s?”
“ I fink so” She said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. You looked at the clock on the diner wall, Wayne wouldn’t start work for a few minutes, maybe he could drop it off on his way? You thought to yourself.
“Can I have my milkshake now?” Izzy, her eyes wide as she looked to you awaiting your answer for her favorite dessert.
“Yeah Sweetpea, just let me call Grandpa Wayne. Maybe he can bring Ozzy” You put on a fake smile as you explained to her but honestly you needed to step away, to have a distraction. You knew this conversation with Izzy would be difficult but not this heart breaking.
You took a deep breath and walked to the diner counter, you knew they would have a phone on the wall where you could call Wayne from. You also knew that Wayne could be of help when it came with conversations about absent parents to young children.
The phone rang a few times and you were just about worried that Wayne had left for work and you would have to deal with a crying Izzy tonight, when the phone finally connected you felt a brief relief until the voice on the other line spoke. A voice you hadn’t heard clearly in years, and two words that made you feel like the earth had just shattered beneath your feet. “Munson Residence”
It was like your vocal chords had been cut and you were frozen in place. “Hello?” the familiar voice said again, you regained consciousness then.
You looked to your daughter who was standing on her knees, her body stretched over the booth as she stared at you, awaiting her milkshake. You stiffly put the phone back on the receiver. You were practically shaking, as you walked back to the booth.
“What happen mommy?” Your daughter noticed your shaking hands.You had forgotten your mother mentioned that Jeff’s father had passed but he never came back, even when all the boys did. Though he was here now.
“Nothing baby, nothing at all” You pulled out your wallet, setting money down as quickly as you could. You needed to leave, if he was back In Hawkins he would probably get lunch or dinner or breakfast. Bob’s Diner was his favorite place to eat when you were together, you were unsure if his tastes had changed but you were not going to risk finding out.
“Come on, Sweetpea. Let’s go” You spoke to your daughter who only looked at you strangely.
“But my milkshake mommy. You promithed” She whined, her lips coming to form a pout. Shit, you had forgotten about the milkshake. You could see the beginnings of a temper tantrum, so you kneeled down before your daughter.
“I know I know. Um- How about we stop at Melvalds very very quick and I make you milkshake at home and if we make them at home, we can watch the little mermaid, how about that?” You tried to reason, after being a single mom for a few years you knew exactly how to make your daughter happy. You just needed out of this diner immediately.
She sat in thought for a lot longer than you wanted to, but eventually agreed with an “Otay” and bounced her way out of the booth.
Eddie Munson entered Melvalds with a ring at the door, the sight of the store made Eddie happy that not everything had changed. It was still the same shade of blue and white, and teens were still making a mess in the chip aisle and it still played the same old 50s music.
When Eddie was young he hated it, always wanting something good like Metallica or Black Sabbath, he even tried to convince the owner once but that only made him threaten to kick Eddie out or arrest him for loitering. Though for the first time Eddie was grateful for the boring music, it brought him a wave of nostalgia.
Eddie made his way going straight for the beer aisle but the colorful section of candy caught his eyes. He stopped there, deciding maybe getting Wayne and himself some candy might be a good way to ease the tension. He looked for a pack of Swedish fish when a little voice spoke.
“You look like my daddy” Eddie turned to the sight of a small girl, dressed in an overall dress, with curly hair and a missing tooth. She stared straight up at him with a smile, she was fidgety in her stance, almost bouncing in place, but she only stared at him with big bright eyes in awe.
Eddie looked around the aisle, seeing no one else but the little girl in front of him. “I-I’m sorry.What?”
“You” the young girl said with utmost confidence and a small finger pointed straight at him “look like my daddy” She said with more emphasis.
Eddie laughed a nervous laugh, he kneeled down to the girls height to get a better look at the obviously confused girl. He couldn’t deny there was a slight resemblance but he wasn’t the only man with wild curly hair and brown eyes in the world. There's no way. Eddie thought.
“ I don’t think that’s possible, sweetie. I haven’t lived in Hawkins in over five years” Eddie tried to reason with the small child that he was indeed not her father, hoping she was just as confused as he was.
“I’m almost six” She practically shouted at him with a cheeky grin on her face. One that Eddie hated to say looked familiar. She stuck her hands out, showing him six fingers.
“Oh I— Well sweetie. I— That does not mean” Eddie tried to find a way to explain but then remembered she was a child, he looked around hoping to find the girl’s parents. A mother or even better a father, but besides a few teenagers, there was no one else. Eddie tried thinking of another solution, to try and get himself out of this situation “What is your daddy’s name?”
This seemed to throw the young girl for a loop, her eyes widened and Eddie could see the gears in her mind turning as she twisted her mouth to the side. Which only made Eddie feel like he was looking into a mirror. Which only made Eddie feel more sick, but the denial in his mind was strong. There was only one way this child could be his, and well there was no way. Right?
Her small finger came to tap onto her chin, as she thought about it. “Um. I don’t member but my mommy told me a long time ago” She shrugged
Eddie smiled at the young girl but the twisting feeling in his gut didn’t subside. Eddie tried to find another way out of this uncomfortable situation, he thought that maybe he could just tell the young girl goodbye and be on his way but he still didn’t see a single person old enough to be a parent. While Eddie could admit he has been an asshole lately, he wasn’t that big of an asshole to leave a lost child alone. “Where is your mommy?”
“She's buying me ice cream” The girl turned around and pointed at the cash register sign that read ‘Cashier 5’
Though before Eddie could ask if he could walk her to her mommy, the voice of the mother seemed to begin calling “Izzy, did you pick out your candy?”
Eddie knew that voice, it had been six years since he heard it but he undeniably knew that voice. He had dreamed about it often, and then there it was again “Izzy? Lets go”
Then she appeared before him, the face he had dreamed of for years, for a second he thought he might be in another dream, but she looked older, more mature than in his dreams but still as beautiful as ever. Eddie only stared and smiled without thinking, while she stared at him with a look of shock and fear, both of them frozen before each other. He had wanted to see her for so long and now she was here in front of him. With a pint of ice cream in her hands? and a ring on her? Wait, did she say Izzy?
Everything was finally coming together in his mind like lyrics to a melody.
The two stared at each other still in shock, as if trying to find her words she only breathed out one. “Eddie”
The two of them snapped out of their frozen daze when an abrupt loud voice of the little girl before them yelled in realization.
“OH YEAH! That's my daddy’s name!” her large brown eyes stared at him, mirroring his own.
Eddie Munson finally truly understood.
Things really do change.
AN: I feel like I might have disappointed y'all with this part, but I promise there will be a lot more Eddie and reader in the next part but what do you guys think?
Please Like, Comment, & Reblog.
If your name is scratched out is because I could not find you on tumblr
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Commander Snow; 9
Commander Snow
Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.
Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit, violence, death, sexual assault
Editor: @hotline-to-hell
chapter one
Chapter two
Chapter three
Chapter four
Chapter five
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
chapter 9
When you woke in the morning, the feeling of crushing weight had been released from your chest. The cold mountain air was easy to breathe, and you were now at ease with your loved ones so close.
It had been three weeks since you had escaped. Not a soul had bothered you here. The mountain was too steep and difficult to search.
You felt safe with Edmund here. Like the nightmare was finally over.
Each morning when you woke, Edmund was the first you would look for. You often found him just outside your cabin door by the campfire.
This morning was no exception.
“Good morning,” he greeted. He was chopping large blocks of wood into smaller pieces for the fire.
“Hey. Did you need a hand?” You walk down the steps of the cabin to where he worked.
“Sure. Can you make a pile from the wood?”
You trip over the sole of your broken boot. They were too old to survive the mountains. Edmund stops his work to watch you trot over, trying to kick your shoe back in place.
“I was going to go down later this morning to pick up some more flour, and fruit. I’ll see if Vincent’s daughters have any spare shoes.”
You hated when he went down the mountain to get more supplies. Always sure that he wouldn’t return.
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” you comment.
“Even if they’re not your size, it’d be better than what you got.”
“I meant to go down. It’s dangerous. Peacekeepers are still looking for us.”
“Ah, I’ll be right.” Edmund takes up his work again, swinging the ax down, “They’re looking in the wrong spots anyway. I had Frances tell a guard you were hiding in the canal beneath the wash house. They’ll be searching for weeks.”
You imagine Coriolanus wading through dirty water and laugh at the thought.
“In any case. My shoes will be fine. I don’t want you wasting your money on me.”
“My money? It’s you who got Snow to send the money to your mother. Boy, was I glad to get that letter!”
He stands tall and pulls an imaginary letter out of his pocket, pretending to read it.
“Dear Edmund, I think of you every day. Wishing, wanting, waiting for you to come to me. I dream about how handsome you are. Strong and smart too.”
You laugh at him.
“I think Snow wrote that one.”
He laughs with you but all too soon the mood turns back somber.
“I was really worried about you, you know? We all were."
He reaches out to take your hand into his.
“I was so worried about you!” You twist his hand so you can place a kiss on the back of it.
“I kept thinking about you trapped with him. I had no idea what he was doing to you.”
You knew what he was insinuating and the thought of it made you shudder. You were his. Would he want you less if he believed that Coriolanus had already touched you? Was that why he had reverted to treating you like a kid? He hadn’t touched you like lovers do since you have been here. Was it because Coriolanus had already marked his territory?
You push his hand away, irritated at the thought.
“He didn’t do anything to me.”
He reaches back and brushes over the almost healed bruised spots on your neck. You recoil in embarrassment. The night in the kitchen fills your mind. You felt a pool of embarrassment form in your stomach. You should have hated it all but as you remember it, your legs squeeze tighter. It felt good, and you didn't feel like a victim because of it.
“You know it doesn’t matter. What he did or didn’t do. It doesn’t change anything.”
“Shut up,” you beg. “Let's just agree to never talk about him again. He’s gone, or will be. Dead to the district and to us.”
“Okay,” Edmund agrees. “I am sorry.”
You felt bad for lashing out at him when he was only trying to help. You had promised yourself just days ago to be the best thing that had ever happened to him.
“I’ll go cook breakfast, alright? ‘’
Edmund had caught some fish just yesterday. Even scaled and prepared them for you. And this is how you repaid him?
You go back into the cabin and start to warm up the hot plate in the corner. Coriolanus was far away, yet he still seemed to haunt you.
Sometimes you felt his fingertips graze your skin.
He came to you at night mostly, when Edmund wasn’t around to distract you.
You would wake up swearing that you could feel his weight on top of you. You would wake up checking for bruises from where he held you down but your skin was clear.
You thought the clear air would push him out but he was stuck and you couldn’t shake him out.
Would it always be like this? Would your life with Edmund be plagued by thoughts of Coriolanus?
No. You just need to focus more on Edmund. Time would take care of the rest.
You push any other thought apart from cooking the fish out of your head. Preparing the food to perfection would exonerate you from your earlier thoughts.
—-
Nights were colder up in the mountains then at the compound. Edmund lent you a jacket but it did little to keep out the cold. It added to your sleep troubles. Some nights you would only get an hour or two. Some nights you wouldn’t sleep at all.
You toss and turn next to your mother, trying not to wake her. You felt unsettled. Too unsettled to sleep.
Edmund slept on the floor beside you thinking that it might help you sleep.
You found yourself wanting to be held. After nights with Coriolanus you had gotten used to being coddled.
You move off the bed and onto the floor next to Edmund.
“Hey, stranger,” he whispers.
A lazy arm is thrown over you but it isn’t enough.
You push closer. “Tighter,” you demand.
He obliged but it still wasn't enough. Coriolanus would hold you so tight, you felt like it was hard to breathe. You used to hate it but as it turns out you can’t sleep without it.
Edmund smelt nicer. A soft woody smell.
He treated you nicer too. Let you choose what you did. You could be angry with him if you chose to. He wouldn’t seek to punish you for it.
Coriolanus tried to buy your love. Edmund tried to earn it.
You would learn to sleep without needing to be held in time.
In the meantime Edmund would be there to support you.
—-----
You sit with Edmund by the campfire while the others sleep. Edmund had paid a informant handsomely to relay District information. He came once a week, late at night to avoid being caught.
You throw a stick into the fire, your boredom and irritation building the longer it takes.
“Do we have enough money for him to keep coming up here to tell us the same thing? Peacekeepers are still searching, Snow’s angry. I could tell you that.”
“Roger has his use. He only needs to give us one piece of crucial information to make the money worth it.”
“And if we run out before he gives it to us?”
Edmund throws his own stick in the fire, watching it burn.
“We’ll be right. We still have the three panams from Snow. I have a little left in savings, by the time all that runs dry, it’ll be mining season again.
“Mining season? Surely this will be over by then. We can’t hide here amongst everyone.”
“What choice do we have, Y/N? The Peacekeepers haven’t let up. We can’t go back to the District. When you mine together, you become family. They wouldn’t betray me.”
Betray him, sure. But you were no one to them. You open your mouth to argue this point but the sound of kicked rocks draws your attention.
A little man in gray, worn clothing and a cap covering his bald head is lightened by the fire.
“You’re late.” Edmund comments.
“Yeah well, Peacekeepers have doubled patrolling the area at night. I come late or I don’t come at all.”
“Well?” Edmund pushes. He stands up with the coins in his hands.
“Ravenstill’s dead. Snow’s gone back to the Capitol,” the man spits out on the grass before continuing talking, “Saw him get on the train this mornin’ myself.”
You sigh in victory. He was gone. Now all that was left was to wait out the attention span of the Peacekeepers.
“Hold on now. I didn’t say he was staying away. Peacekeeper tells me he’ll be back by the time the week is out with the new Commander.”
“But then he’s gone, right? District 12 can’t have two Commanders?” You rise next to Edmund.
The older man shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe. He’s offering a large reward for your capture.”
“Yeah, well I’m offering your life.” Edmund’s voice is hard and threatening. He throws the coin pouch at the man who catches it.
“Settle, boy. I ain't no traitor. I am just saying it seems unlikely that he would offer up such a price only to walk away.”
“Keep us updated on the movements of Snow and the areas the Peacekeepers are targeting.”
The man opens the coin pouch to look inside before nodding his head and turning back the way he came.
You take hold of Edmund’s arm. You worried for his fate if you were found. You worried for your own fate. He was unbearable when you failed to escape. Now you have succeeded, what laid ahead if you were to return?
—------
You began to have nightmares of Coriolanus finding you. You would wake with your mother's arms wrapped around you, and Edmund calling your name.
The dreams always ended the same, no matter how they started; with everyone dead at your feet.
You would run and hide from him in the forest like the night at the cabin. He would find his way into the cabin late at night and crawl on top of you while your protectors slept. One time he dropped from the sky.
But you woke to find he hadn’t found you yet.
You avoided going to sleep. Your mother joined in solidarity, despite your protests. She would stay up with you to chase the bad thoughts away.
Edmund's mother stayed up too. She didn’t want to be the only adult asleep.
You all wait for the update Roger will bring.
You sit next to Edmund watching the flames. You don’t hear the man approaching until Edmund's mother greets him. The man offers a head nod back but his attention is for Edmund.
“Peacekeepers are still searching. Mainly in the city blocks. Rumor that she was seen selling cupcakes in town.”
You scoff at the thought. At least it kept the Peacekeepers preoccupied.
“Alright,” Edmund throws the money to Roger but the man doesn’t disappear, “Was there something else?”
“Her brother,” your heart stops beating. “They got him locked up in the Capitol jail.”
You shoot up from the log in a panic.
You feel Edmund grab your hand but can’t hear the words that he is telling you.
“It’s alright. It’s alright,” he finally breaks through, “They won’t hurt him. He’s all the leverage they’ve got.”
“God. Edmund, what if they do? It’ll be my fault.” Your tears choke you as you speak.
“They won’t. He’ll be safe, okay. He wouldn’t kill him unless he knew you knew.”
“What are we going to do? I have to go back. He’ll let him go if I-”
“Don’t be stupid. If you go back now, he’ll use Archie to keep you in line forever.”
“We can’t leave him there.”
“We won’t. If he wants the presidency he’ll have to go back to the Capitol. We wait him out, and when the new Commander comes, he’ll see Archie was kept for no reason and we will buy him back.”
Your mother sat sobbing and you joined her.
Dear God, what have you done?
“From what I was told, they ain't hurt him.”
“See?” Edmund says, “So long as you stay hidden, there would be no point in hurting him.”
Edmund’s mother comes over and wraps her arms around her elder son. Archie was special to her too.
You had put all her sons in danger. In her heart, there was no more room for you.
—------------
The news of Archie’s arrest had dampened spirits. The days were long and everyone was irritable.
Edmund feared for his friend. You feared for your brother.
He had spent all his life protecting you, now only for you to get him killed. You wished you were still a little girl waiting by the door for your older brother to come home from work. It was a similar feeling to now. The dread of him not coming home filled you.
You wondered how Coriolanus got him on the train. Was it under threat? Did he beat Archie into submission? Or did he lie and deceive Archie?
Your mother was adamant that his capture was not your fault. Even if that was true, Archie’s detention was. You knew Coriolanus would let you trade yourself for your brother. But Edmund was right, if you folded now your family would always be ready for capture to be used against you.
Edmund’s mother was less sympathetic to it all. You had dragged her family into this and now the boy she considered a third son was rotting in jail because you were too precious to submit to the Commander like the rest of District 12.
She was cold to you, never speaking directly to you and only offering glaring stares. Being treated so terribly oddly felt validating. People should be angry with you. You had put them in danger.
You look at Edmund's little brother across the other side of the campfire. He clung to his mother's skirt, resting his head on her lap. He was just a boy, you couldn’t bear it if a hair on his head was harmed. And yet you have asked him to hide in a mountain with you. Leave his school and his friends behind.
No one had spoken for hours as you sat together around the camp, so when Edmund moved suddenly it caught everyone's attention.
He shoots up from where you rested upon him on the log to gaze out as smoke ringlets circle the sky.
“Get your things. Make sure to leave nothing behind.”
None of you move, perplexed at his outburst.
“Now!” he shouts, “Move!”
His anxiety caused you all to jump up and follow his command. He kicks dirt over the campfire to make it look unused while the rest of you pack what little you have.
You came with nothing so you focused on the pots and pans, and stripping the beds.
He joins you as you work with his mother and brother to clean their room.
“What’s going on?” His mother demands but doesn’t stop her work of shoving clothes into a sack held by her youngest son.
“Peacekeepers are searching the mountains.”
“Where are we going to go?” you panic. They would search all of the mountains.
“The mines. They won’t search there. Too unstable for people who don’t know what they are doing.”
He takes the bag of pans off you and throws it over his shoulder.
The mines were a dangerous place to hide, and there was no certainty that the Peacekeepers wouldn’t search them. If they did you would be trapped. They would just keep pushing forward until your group reached a dead end.
Nevertheless, Edmunds leads the group to the trail that leads into the mines.
You couldn’t decide what would be worse, dying by a Peacekeeper or in a mine like your father.
But with Edmund’s hand in yours, at least the rocks of the mountain would let you keep him. The Peacekeepers would tear you from him only in death.
Even with the bags of stuff, the trail is tread quickly.
The cave is dark and so, so cold. You hide in the shadows with your group. Edmund stands to the front once he has herded the group into safe standing.
It is completely silent for what feels like a lifetime. Nothing but the birds in the trees and the wind. It lulls you into a false sense of security. Maybe Edmund was wrong. Maybe his source on the other side was mistaken and blew the smoke prematurely. But soon a distant sound of heavy tire treads could be heard rolling up the hill.
You ignored the first sign of people approaching. But as they got heavier and the talking got louder, it got harder to assure yourself that you wouldn’t be found.
You clutch Edmund's arms. You feel it move to reach for the pocketknife in his pocket.
Peacekeepers call to each other. They were close, you could hear clearly as they spoke.
“Hey, let's go.”
“Commander Snow said every inch”.
“You lookin’ to get killed? Those mines collapse all the time.”
You hold your breath waiting. Should you walk out now to save everybody else?
“Come on, man. No one’s here. We’ve still got half the forest to get to. Come on.”
You feel Edmund relax under you as the Peacekeepers walk away.
None of you move. The threat remains in the woods. None of you were safe until the Peacekeepers were out of the woods and had reported to Coriolanus that nothing was there.
The mountains were large, you wondered how many Peacekeepers had been spared to search it. Even if thirty men, it would take a whole day at least.
It was a whole day spent in the cave, waiting for the Peacekeepers to come back. But no sound was ever heard.
Night falls before Edmund makes the call to investigate.
His mother kisses him before he leaves.
You cringe under her stare. You had put her baby boy in danger. It was your fault that she now had to hide in the mountains away from her home.
It will be a rocky start once all of this is over. How could you work to earn back her affection after all the pain you have caused her?
Edmund's little brother had taken over the role of protector. He stood at the front of the cave, tall and fierce like his brother had. He clutched his knife and looked out into the night with a hunter's eyes.
Edmund was gone for hours but his little brother never tired of his role. If Peacekeepers turned up, the little boy was ready.
You watch over him as his mother makes what little she can from the food.
A dark figure cast into the cave, and you grab the little boy, pulling him back against you to protect him. It was too tall, too broad for Edmund. You shrink back into the shadows as it approaches, reaching down to pull the knife from the boy. On instinct, you open your mouth to scream but it is Edmund's voice that calls you.
“They are gone. Cars are gone, and there are no markings to pick up the search. They won’t return.”
You shake the fear out of you and release Edmund's brother from your protective hold.
Coriolanus had weaved himself into your mind. Every shadow; every sound was him.
You needed Edmund to take his place, but he often acted like a ghost to you, touching you only in reproach.
You wanted to keep something from Coriolanus' reach. To give some shred of you to Edmund that could never be given back.
You started by hugging him tight.
—---
You had decided to sleep with Edmund at the first opportunity after the scare yesterday.
It was hard to pin him down between his hunting, working around the camp, and his family.
You felt like his shadow as you lingered, trying to single out his attention.
He would offer you a smile every time you saw him but wouldn’t stop his work.
You followed him into the woods but his brother would insist on coming to learn how to shoot.
Back at camp, his mother blocked you from his attention. It seemed impossible to gain an audience with him.
You tried to tell him what you wanted but the words would never form in your mouth. He was always too busy to hear them anyway. Telling you to wait until back at camp to tell him what you were trying to say. But camp was too crowded so you always pretended to forget what you wanted to say.
It took three days of pining before the mothers took the washing to the lake. It would take them all day to rinse and dry the clothes and sheets. Normally you would go and help but today you had a goal in mind.
You hide Edmund’s catch from this morning and tell Edmund’s brother that another animal had run off with dinner tonight. You had asked him to go catch fish but he was determined that he could catch actual prey. He was a hunter like his brother, he insisted.
Whatever got him lost for a couple of hours. He didn’t actually have to catch anything but you hoped he did. You would boast about him at dinner. He was a good kid and deserved more attention.
“Hey,” Edmund greeted you. He had gone to collect more firewood and you had grown impatient waiting for him to get back.
“Where is everyone?”
You don’t answer him. He looked so handsome, slightly covered in dirt from his work.
You wanted this to be the moment you remember forever. If Coriolanus did find you, you wanted to at least have this memory of Edmund.
He looks confused as you grab his arm and pull him into the cabin but follows your direction.
You slam the door shut and push Edmund up against the wall, cementing your body like what had been done to you on so many occasions.
You kiss him hard, letting him know how badly you need him.
He stills you with a firm grip on your shoulders, tilting his head higher out of your reach.
“What are you doing?”
“I want it to be you. Not him.” Even on your tippy toes, you could not reach him.
“Not now,” he scolds.
“Yes now,” you refute, “I can feel him getting closer every day.”
Edmund looks down upon you, taking your face gently in your hands.
“You’re safe. He’s not going to get you. I’ll keep you safe.”
You knew he would try but you felt Coriolanus in your bones. You knew he would catch you.
“Please,” you whine. Your hands reach for his belt but he traps your hands.
“You are not going to give me this under threat. He’s not going to persuade you to do something you’ve had the past few years to do yourself.”
“I want to,” you protest. You manage to capture his lips again and he mercifully kisses back.
His barrier was weak. You were sure you could break it down. His hands held your hips and not your wrists, almost giving you permission.
“Edmund! Edmund!” The sound of his little brother's voice was heard only seconds before the door opened.
You separate. Edmund looked almost relieved. He eyes you by his side but gives his attention to his brother. You had broken down his wall but he was saved by the bell.
“Look!” the little boy proudly held up a small dead rabbit. You wished you insisted on the fish.
“Good job, buddy.” Edmund moves from you to his brother, straightening his jacket as he walks.
“I’ll help you dress it.” Edmund doesn’t look at you as he leads his brother back out to the open.
“I can do it!” The little voice demanded.
“I know, buddy. But we can’t afford to lose any meat.”
You could cry at the sense of rejection. Edmund wouldn’t give you another opportunity. You had just wanted to show that you loved him but he would have to settle for words.
—----
You were cold to Edmund the following days, even as you tried to let it go. You wouldn’t look at him as you passed him his meals. Would only speak to him to answer a question. You wouldn’t say more than what was needed.
He still slept on the floor next to you despite your behavior.
You knew he was trying to protect you by his rejection but it stung.
Coriolanus had made you feel desirable. He performed extraordinary measures just for a kiss. And here you were throwing yourself at Edmund, begging him for just that, only to be tossed aside.
Was Edmund's affections real or just a product of Coriolanus interference?
You felt stupid for making the first move. You should have just forgotten the whole thing. Edmund was loyal. He just got confused, and you played the fool. Now you had put him in an uncomfortable situation that could risk any relationship with him after this ordeal.
You loved him but you should have stayed silent about it.
Half of you hoped that Coriolanus would find you and take you away. Maybe Edmund would feel guilty about his rejection, and regret it.
You roll over in bed towards where Edmund is lying on the floor.
No, that’s not true.
You’d rather be Edmund’s doormat than Coriolanus' bride.
—---------
Coriolanus stood backstage at the presidential show. They would perform now for the audience. Answering questions, and charming the crowd. Coriolanus should feel on top of his game. He was known for being charming. It was all he had for the longest time.
Augustus stood at the other side of the stage, Coriolanus could see him through gaps in the curtains talking to his campaign manager.
Coriolanus couldn’t bear to talk to anyone until he was forced to.
His thoughts were occupied with you. All of the District was searched, and all he received from it was rumors. A few whispered leads but nothing to truly go on.
He needed to shake you out so he could focus on his night.
He hated you now more than ever. It was one thing to betray him, it was another to interfere with his presidential campaign. You should have been here now to support him.
But instead, you had run off with another man. He should have killed Edmund when he had the chance. Coriolanus had kept him as a pawn but Edmund had turned himself into a knight.
Lucky was warming up the crowd to introduce the candidates. Coriolanus couldn’t be thinking of this now. You were here. You had gone back to the apartment and he found you there. There was no hole in the fence Peacekeepers failed to find, and Edmund was dead.
When he went back to the Snow penthouse tonight, he would find you there. Drinking tea with Grandma’am and Tigris.
Coriolanus hears his name being called and he enters the stage with a smile.
District 12 was a small place, you couldn’t hide forever. Coriolanus would take the first train back tonight and follow every lead himself.
—----------
You were adding spices to the stew when wildflowers popped up under your face.
Edmund stood behind you with a shy smile.
“I am sorry. Please stop being angry with me,” he begs.
You take the flowers from him to show you are not hostile.
“I am not angry. I just-” you pause your words unsure on what to say, “You haven’t kissed me or even really touched me since I’ve been here. If you don’t feel the same way that's fine, Just-”
“You’re really stupid. You know that?” he cuts you off. He takes a step towards you. You take it as an invitation to place your hands on his arms.
“I’ve loved you since I can last remember. And you take me giving you a little space after you’ve just spent a ridiculous amount of time as a hostage to a man who thinks torturing is the same thing as courting, as a sign I ain't interested?”
You kiss him gently and he allows you to. Your heart swelled under his words. He loved you.
“I meant what I said though. I ain't touching you under threat. When the time’s right, and it’s just the two of us, I’ll give you anything you want. But allow yourself to heal first. I don’t want you to regret anything.”
You kiss him again to show your gratitude.
“Thank you. I am sorry, Edmund. I love you.”
“I love you too, stupid.”
Coriolanus shakes Lucky Flickerman's hand as the crowd cheers for him. Presidency was close even if you were far.
—------
Despite not having a choice, camp life was agreeable. You worked closely with Edmund, helping him where you could and supporting him where you could not.
Your mother seemed happy too, despite her son being in the Capitol jail. But plans were already forming to get him out. And he was safe, or at least relatively safe. You had no idea what he faced but you knew it would not be death. Not yet. Not without Coriolanus knowing that you knew what had happened to him.
The new Commander of District 12 was sworn in yesterday. Coriolanus was there to hand over the title. Roger had said he seemed uptight and disinterested in the affair. You were sure Coriolanus would be gone soon.
Back to the Capital where he belonged. An air of victory floated around you. He would be president and you would return to District 12 where you belonged, but as Mrs. Flair.
You no longer had nightmares of Coriolanus. Soon this memory would fade into a distant dream.
But it all happened so fast; a loud banging noise woke you, and dozens of pairs of boots stomped across the floor. Edmund woke too, tried to fight them off but there were too many of them. All in protective gear and all with weapons.
They drag him and your mother out. None of the Peacekeepers touch you even as you hit and yell.
It was early morning, the sunlight had just been cast over the mountains but the ground was still frozen and wet with condensation.
Edmund and your mother were thrown on the ground and held down while their hands were cuffed behind their backs. Edmund's mother and brother soon followed.
You grapple with a Peacekeeper trying to cuff Edmund's hands. He does his best to avoid you but no one pulls you away. Your hands remain free and none of the Peacekeepers make a move to trap you.
“Please,” you beg amongst the crying and Edmund’s yelling.
You almost don't recognize him. His hair had grown out, and he wore an expensive red coat instead of his Commander uniform.
But his eyes remained the same. Blue and fierce they gazed down at you. You had run straight past him without noticing.
You rush to him in panic, falling at his feet and grabbing his black pant leg in a tight hold.
“Coriolanus, please,” you beg him, “Please I’ll go back. Just release them.”
He ignores you. Nodding to a Peacekeeper who takes a long length of rope from his belt and throws it over the branch of a tree. Another two bring Edmund to his feet, pushing him as he resists.
His mother wails, joining your begging.
“No! No! Wait please!” They continue to set up the rope.
“Coriolanus, please!” you had time to beg as the Peacekeeper does the knot.
He continues to watch Edmund, listening to Edmund's insults rather than your cries.
“Commander, please. I won’t ever do it again. I’ll be perfect.”
He still ignores you. Not even glancing at you as you beg him from the dirt.
“No, no.” The Peacekeeper finishes the knot and fastens it around Edmund's neck.
You go to reach him. You would hold him up if you had to, but Coriolanus caught you by your hair and held you in place.
Edmund kicks like a fish out of water as the rope is pulled by two Peacekeepers on the other side.
You pull against Coriolanus' hold, almost yanking your hair out trying to reach him.
Edmund looks at you as he struggles. His hold body shook, and he kicked at the air in hope. His lips half form your name but it never quite parts from his lips.
Coriolanus does let you go but it was too late. Edmund had stopped kicking. Stopped blinking. Stopped breathing.
You run to him anyway, dropping where he hung.
You reach out and touch his foot as it sways.
“Kiss your mother goodbye, and let’s go.” His voice shoots ice down your spine.
You wanted to scream and yell and cry, but you could do nothing but stare at the dirt in front of you. The sound of crying filled your ears. Dear god, this was all your fault.
Coriolanus doesn’t ask you again, just grabs a fistful of hair and yanks you to movement.
You felt too disorientated to fight back.
He drags you past Edmund's crying mother and brother who couldn’t tear their eyes away from the tree.
You wanted to reach out to say something, but Coriolanus was in a rush to get back to the Capitol.
“Mum,” was all you could call out as you pass her.
He drags you along to a parked patrol car and throws you in the cage used for rebels.
It felt as if the earth had swallowed you whole. There was no fight left in you. All you felt was despair.
Coriolanus had no pity for you. He barely glanced at you as he locked the cage and closed the door.
You lay in the back in your borrowed nightdress and Edmund’s jacket. You bring it up to your face as you sob. He was dead. All hope of a happy future was gone with him. You would remain Coriolanus’ slave until the day you died.
The journey throws you around as they speed down the hill and back to the city section of the District.
You sob the entire way. Edmund was dead because of you. Your brother was in jail. Your mother is now all alone in this world. You wanted to die too. It would be kinder than this existence.
Edmund was dead because of you. His family left without their provider because of you. Your heart ached. Your grief suffocated you. You gasp for air but your sobs block any from reaching your lungs.
What have you done? Why did you think you stood a chance of escape?
You begged the universe to turn back time. You wouldn’t go to the jail. You were trying to do the right thing but your kindness had led to your world being ripped apart.
Why did you have to do it, you thought to yourself. Life could have been so sweet if you weren’t so foolish.
What would your life be like now? Coriolanus wouldn’t be taking you back to the Compound now there was a new Commander. Were you going to the Capitol so soon?
You had a hard time adjusting to life at the Compound. How would you ever survive the capital?
Would you survive the Capital? After Coriolanus had finished with you, would he keep you around after you had betrayed him?
He seemed a different man. Could he still say he was in love with you? Or has that game now ended?
The car stops at the train station. Talking and car doors slamming cut through the business of the station.
The harsh light enters when the door is yanked open by Coriolanus.
You don’t want to get out, hoping to get shot for your resistance.
Coriolanus drags you out by your ankle, taking a tight hold of your arm as he gets you upright and pushes through onto the train.
You don’t struggle against him as he leads you through the busy station. What would be the point?
You enter first class, and the doors get locked by maids behind you.
The only word you can say is “no”, over and over again.
This couldn’t be happening. Was this just another bad dream? Please, just let this be a bad dream.
Coriolanus shoves you into a booth, and you slump against the window. He sits next to you trapping you in. You had no energy to move. Only sob against the cold glass.
You should have just saved yourself the trouble and stayed. Why did you have to anger him?
With the most important passenger on board, the train moves out of the station.
“Enough,” he tells you. But you couldn’t follow his command even if you tried.
You watch the District shoot past you. How you wished you could open the window and throw yourself out.
The rocks pass, and the trees begin to blur into one another. Coriolanus is silent for hours as you cry against the window still.
You could feel him sometimes looking at you but otherwise, he just sat there. Fixing the jewelry he wore. A gold pinky ring with your ring stacked on top of it. His coat buttons were dipped in gold. He had a new watch, a present from Tigris for returning home.
It was only when you shifted from the window and slumped over the table did he speak.
“We were supposed to be in the Capitol weeks ago.”
The Capitol. His presidential run. You had just lost everything you had ever known and he talks about being behind schedule.
You sit up to face him. He was no longer the Commander you knew but something far more fearsome.
“You think I care about the Capitol?!” You cry, “You took everything from me! You ruined my life,” you scream at him.
He grabs your jaw in his hand and pushes your head back against the glass. The glass is solid and cold as you are pressed against it.
“Your mother has joined your brother in the District 12 jail. I would be very careful what you say to me. Did you think this was a game? Did you think I wouldn’t search for you? Wouldn’t find you?”
The door slides open and Coriolanus releases you. A servant walks in with breakfast, and another behind her with juice and pastries.
They set the food and cutlery down in silence. You notice they don’t look up or around, only at what they are doing.
Coriolanus doesn’t thank them as they leave. He doesn’t eat either.
“Coriolanus, are they going to be okay?”
“We could have just left, Y/N. No one had to get hurt.”
You turn back to the window as you speak, “I know.”
The food sat at the table for five minutes untouched before Coriolanus called for it to be taken away again. The servants come quickly and the food is taken away in the same manner it was delivered; quickly and silently.
“It’s three days to the Capitol.” he stands up as he spoke to you, “Two days after that they will announce the new president of Panem. Whatever this is, it’s finished. You do the slightest thing to displease me and your family will follow Edmund.”
You flinch at his name. Edmund would haunt you for the rest of your days. You hoped he would.
“Do you understand me?” he asks.
“Yes, Commander.”
He flinches at the name but doesn’t comment. He clears his throat and walks away into the other carriage.
You pick up on your crying again. You should have known that your rage only ever backfired on your loved ones.
Your throat ached and your eyes were puffy, soon you had no more tears left to cry.
You try a door to see where it leads but it must have a sensor on it because it didn’t open as easily as it did for Coriolanus. He had trapped you in the room. This was your life now. Waiting for Coriolanus to decide what to do with you.
You curl up on the seat and let the train lull you to sleep.
The servants must have come back in during your nap for when you woke the table was filled with food again. A large jug of water sat on the table. You finish all of it and lay back down again.
Coriolanus returns much later, around dinner time.
“You’re still there,” he observes as the door lets him through.
“Where else could I go?”
His hand presses a large button and what you thought was a wall slides to reveal a bedroom.
“You should wash up for dinner. You have dirt all over you.”
You did want to take a shower, but you didn’t want to lose Edmund’s jacket.
Coriolanus steps forward to grab you, but you rise upon seeing him move. Nothing he said was ever a suggestion.
The room was large, with a queen-sized bed decorated in a rich, heavy fabric of deep blue. There were four large pillows and a set of smaller ones with the Panem emblem on them.
A wall was built to hang clothes. You could only see three sets of Coriolanus’ clothing and a dress and a nightgown for you.
On the other side, there was door to a spacious bathroom. You had thought the commanders apartment bathroom was impressive but now you could see why the Capital looked down at the districts.
This bathroom alone was almost as big as the bedroom in the Commander's quarters. Beautiful gold and white titles lay across the floor. A white marble sink with a gold tap. You reach out to touch it.
‘‘Take your clothes off.” Coriolanus demanded. He reaches for the buttons on his own shirt causing the panic to rise in you again.
What would it matter what he did to you? But still, you felt too frozen to move.
He gets halfway through the buttons on his shirt to see you still dressed. His eyes darken as he reaches out to you.
You shrink back against the marble countertop as he yanks Edmund's jacket from your shoulders and throws it to the ground. Your eyes follow it there, as Coriolanus slips your borrowed nightdress off.
You expected more of a reaction from him after all this time. But he seems uninterested in your naked body. He takes your arm and pulls you to the shower head where he fiddles with the tap until the water is to his liking.
He throws you under the hot water while he finishes undressing. The clothes are left on the floor as he joins you in the shower.
You move out of his way to let him have the water but he pulls you back under and reaches for a soft sponge hanging against the wall.
“Look at you,” he mutters. He scrubs the sponge under your nails to get rid of the dirt that had caked under them.
Satisfied he scrubs the sponge up your arms to your neck and down your back. He scrubs too hard. It feels as if he is peeling off your skin.
He is quick along your stomach. Not spending too much time before moving on.
You flinch when he crouches down to scrub at your legs but he stops mid-thigh and returns to full height, dragging the sponge up your leg and resting on your left hip.
“Are you going to do it now?” It was important that you were clean for him, you supposed.
He drops the sponge, using his hand to wrap around your throat and force you back into the glass.
You don’t look at him as he stares at you. He steps closer, wrapping his arm around your waist and bring you against him.
He rests his forehead against your collar bone, the steam filled the air and fogged your view. He is so still and silent. He had made no move to grope you. You couldn’t tell if he even looked at you. He just held you close and breathed deeply.
The room became hard to breathe in as the water turned into steam. But you were too scared to voice even that complaint. He moved from your collar bone to rest his chin on your shoulder but then went still again.
“Coriolanus?” His name was barely a breath on your lips.
“I am so angry at you,” he said softly. You feel the hand on your throat tighten.
“How could you do that to me?’’ He lifts his head off of you to look you in the eye.
“Augustus has been opening hospitals and amongst the Capitol people, while I have been chasing you around District 12. Do you have any idea how that made me look?’’
You think of your family in jail as you speak. “I am sorry.”
“You’re sorry? Not good enough.”
He looked so different with his blonde wet hair pressed down on his forehead. The ends curled slightly towards his face.
“You won, Coriolanus. What more do you want from me?”
“I don’t feel as if I have won. I feel as if I have been betrayed.”
Your eyes twitched with irritation. He felt betrayed? You were astonished you that he felt like the victim after causing you so much pain. He was the only bad thing to have happened. The cause of his own misery.
“You killed Edmund,” you sobbed, “You killed him.”
You bring a fist against his shoulder, but it landed without true force.
“I let him live once. Remember?”
The memory of target training at the train station flashes through your mind before you could block it.
“What made you think I would make the same mistake twice?”
He releases you to turn off the tap. You stood frozen as he dries himself.
His anger had lit yours so when he exited the bathroom, you followed, wet and dressed only in a towel.
“Edmund was a good man.”
Coriolanus was readying himself for bed. He spared you a irritated look.
“And now he’s a dead man.”
His sentence stung you.
You wiped the running tears off your eyes. “He was a good man,” you repeat.
He was the only man for you. The love of your life, now dead and gone.
“How did you know? Did Roger rat us out?” you ask.
“You did,” you wait for him to elaborate as he dresses in his pajamas, “Your letter to your brother. People disappear all the time up there.”
You feel your heart drop at his words. A new wave of guilt comes crashing over you.
“He was smart hiding there. He knew the area well. And the smoke signals? Very good. I never did find out who was sending them, but what use are they if you don’t see them.”
Was. Knew. No more.
“Well enough to fool my Peacekeepers, but I thought, why would she put that in a letter to her brother? Unless it was to warn him. Why else tell him not to come back? You love your brother, of course you would want him back.”
Tears well in your eyes again.
“Is he okay? Have you hurt him?” you accuse.
“It would serve me no purpose to hurt him.”
His movements are hard and sharp as he puts on his satin button-up shirt.
“So you’ll release him? Both of them?” They served no purpose to him in the Capitol.
“When I can trust you again.” He spat.
It could be years before a paranoid Coriolanus decided he trusted you.
“You can trust me. I promise. I’ll make it up to you, just please let them go.”
You walk over to him, reaching out to touch him. It normally worked to disarm him. He is receptive to you, taking a hand and placing it against your face.
“You know why I can trust you? Because I have your family locked in a cage.”
He disappears along with his touch, going over to the cupboard and throwing a deep blue matching nightgown on the bed.
He says nothing else before returning to the dining room and leaving you in the bedroom alone.
You cry as you dress, and don’t stop as you throw the small pillows across the room and sink into the mattress.
Everything you did was wrong. People were hurt because you weren’t smart enough to protect them. Your mother and brother sat in a dirty jail cell, and you had put them there.
They bore the consequences of your stupidity.
Your mind ran and ran with your anxiety. Images of your mother and brother being beaten in a small cell. Edmund’s family slowly starving to death without him. The memory of Edmund as he swayed from the rope.
You wallow in bed for an hour before Coriolanus rejoins.
You feel him slip into bed beside you. He wraps his arms tightly around you and for the first time in months you fall asleep easily.
You woke the next morning with the feeling of crushing sadness.
Coriolanus was awake next to you. You could hear him practicing a speech as he laid beside you.
You don’t move. You weren’t even sure if you could.
A knock on the door stops him, and he bids the person to come in.
You don’t have to look to know it was a servant with a breakfast tray.
Coriolanus reaches for your shoulder to turn you over. You follow his direction and he props a pillow up behind you so you could sit up.
You thank the person as they put a small table over your lap.
You felt nauseous just looking at the food. But asking them to take it away may cause trouble for them so you wait until they leave to reject the food.
You place the table on the floor and roll back onto your side. Your bones felt like cement, and your eyes welled with tears but you didn’t have the energy to cry.
Coriolanus said nothing to you as he eats.
He mutters his speech between sips of coffee. Soon that was finished too, and he rose for the day.
He crosses your eyesight as he approached the wardrobe, and you watch him dress. It seemed odd to see him in anything other than his Commander uniform.
You had never seen Capitol fashion before. It was full of layers and tiny details. The buttons on his shirt had a silver swirl design that caught the light. His shirt was crisp and white with a design of two black flowers on either side, reaching from the end of the shirt to his shoulders.
“I have some work to do. Interviews and thank you letters. So, if you decide to come out be quiet.”
You had no plan to leave your spot, but you nod in understanding.
He doesn’t look or speak to you again as he leaves the room.
You felt as if you had died too. There was no life in you anymore.
You lay for hours in the same spot. Occasionally you could hear Coriolanus as he spoke.
The weight on your shoulder caused it to ache but you couldn’t make yourself move.
The only time you shifted during the hours was when the servants returned to serve you lunch. They took the dirty dishes but also the dirty laundry.
You lunch up to stop the women carrying out Edmund’s brown coat.
“Wait, please!” you grab the worn material off her, “Not this. Leave this.”
The two women look between each other, unsure.
“Mr. Snow said to take everything.”
You swing the jacket over you, positioning yourself in it.
“He didn’t mean this.” Edmund’s faint scent lingered on the fabric. He gave it to you to keep warm at night. You had come to associate it with the feeling of protection.
The young girl bows to you and the other follows suit. As they leave, you know it’s to tell Coriolanus.
You sit and wait for him on the bed.
Coriolanus storms in not moments later.
“The jacket,” he demanded.
“No, Coriolanus. Please let me keep it.”
He launches at you, tearing at the jacket trying to pull it off you.
You fight against him, cementing your arms to yourself and trying to wriggle free.
He gets it half off your shoulders. But he grew too frustrated to finish the job. He pulls you up towards him by the collar of the jacket.
“Take the jacket off or I’ll tell them not to bother feeding your mother tonight.”
Edmund was right. Coriolanus was always going to use your family as a weapon.
But the needs of the living overtook those of the dead. You had to make sure they were as safe as you could make them.
He gets off you and you get up to give him the jacket.
As he takes the jacket with one hand, he smacks you with the other.
You make a startled sound but Coriolanus is gone before you finish it.
You return back to your spot and sob into your pillow.
With the jacket now gone, you had truly lost every piece of Edmund.
And with him, you have lost every piece of yourself. Only Coriolanus remained.
————
Three hours after lunch, Coriolanus came to sit on your side of the bed next to you.
“I’ve brought you a cup of tea.”
“Thank you. I don’t want tea.”
Coriolanus’s face is tense as he places the cup on the table next to you.
“They tell me you didn’t have lunch either. Is that your plan? To starve yourself to death before we reach the Capitol?”
“I have no plan,” you admit.
“Well I do. I have lots of plans, and you’re through with delaying them. So Sit up and drink your tea.”
He reaches out to your neck to help you sit up. The tea is placed into your hands but it is him you stare at.
“You look so different.”
His hair was a soft white color as it grew out. His clothes were fashionable and colorful. Nothing of the District 12 Commander remained.
He runs his fingers through his hair, combing it back.
“I am still the same.”
“I don’t think that’s true.” You didn’t think it was possible but he was colder, held himself with somehow more confidence. This was the new leader of Panem.
“What would you know? You never bothered to get to know me.”
“I think I know you better than anyone else.”
He showed you parts of himself you were sure he hid from others. The nightmares. The secret yearning to be taken care of. The heartbreak he carried from the loss of his mother.
“Think, think, think. What have I told you about thinking? You’re no good at it. I’ll do it. Now drink your tea.”
You take a sip of the scalding tea. It quenches some of your thirst.
“Will I ever go back to District 12?” you ask.
You weren’t really sure you would want to.
“No.”
“What’s going to happen to me once we reach the Capitol?”
He sighs, ‘‘That depends on you.”
“Will it be like the compound?”
He laughs humorlessly, “Nothing is like the compound.”
“I meant being locked indoors.”
“Will I let you roam free around the Capitol? No.” He doesn’t look at you as he speaks. His eyes move around the room, looking at the subtle details.
“But if you are well-behaved, and do enough to earn it, I will show you all the Capitol has to offer.”
His eyes move down, back to you.
“You’ll grow to admire the Capitol. You won’t hate it forever.”
You go to refute his statement. Nothing in the Capitol could fill the gaping hole left in you from being torn from your home and family. But a servant knocks on the door, taking Coriolanus’s attention.
He commands them to come in but the small girl only steps upon the threshold and never through it.
“Sir, you have a call.”
“I’ll be right there.” He answers back.
She bows and doesn’t rise until the door is shut again.
“Duty calls,” you taunt.
“Yes.” His eyes are back to being everywhere but on you, “I want that tea finished before I get back.”
As soon as he leaves, you get up and pour the tea down the bathroom sink.
—----
The next morning was the same. You laid in bed for hours, unmoving.
Only this morning they didn’t bother to bring you breakfast. You wondered if you would have eaten it, if it was offered, but your guilt still felt so heavy.
Lunchtime came around and Coriolanus disrupted your wallowing.
“Get up. We reach the Capitol soon.” He orders.
He plucks a dress off the rack and lays it across the bed, just under your feet.
It was a blush pink satin gown that tied in a low ribbon at the back. Matching heels that wrapped around your ankle were placed on the floor below.
You sit up to touch the fabric of the dress, and Coriolanus sneaks behind you with a hair brush.
He begins to untangle your hair but he pulls it too harshly. You could feel the tender spot on your head from where he had pulled it just two days before.
“There will be cameras when we step off the train. Fashion is very important in the Capitol. You’ll have to get used to not wearing the same dress every day.”
He pulls a knot too harshly and you let out a cry of pain.
His hand moves yours from the spot and massages it gently.
“That wouldn’t have happened if you had gotten up at some point.”
He returns the brush to the carry bag and returns to you, holding out his hands.
You take them and he pulls you up out of the bed.
His hands move to your nightdress and he pulls it off to place the pink satin gown over your head. He spins you around so he can tie it in the back.
“Put on your shoes and meet me outside.”
He places a kiss on the back of your shoulder before leaving you.
The shoes are hard to walk in. While not overly tall, the heel itself was narrow. Trying to walk felt like a balancing act. You could only manage small steps.
Coriolanus sat at the booth looking out of the window.
The landscape had changed from long stretches of dry dirt to tall buildings.
You sit down opposite him and gaze out the window at it all.
It seemed unreal.
Every building shined. The Panem flag was hung wherever possible. The sky seemed extra blue.
You had never felt homesick but now you realize why Coriolanus was so eager to get back home.
The scenery disappears as you enter a tunnel and stop at your destination.
Your hand is tugged as Coriolanus heads to the exit with the servants and the bags just ahead of you.
You could hear a commotion as you got closer. Voices overlapped and snapping sounds of flashing cameras joined the noise.
The lights were blinding as you exited the carriage.
Coriolanus seemed in his element. He waved and smiled as he lead you through the sea of cameramen and reporters.
They all shouted at him as they held microphones up to his face. But he didn’t stop to make a comment.
More people surrounded the outside. Peacekeepers made a path to a sparkling black car with their bodies blocking the crowd.
He was hailed a king here, and a tyrant back in District 12. All for the same thing.
The scene was overwhelming. Not only were you in a foreign place without your family, but you felt yourself suffocating amongst the crowd. If one were to break through, the rest would follow ending in a catastrophe.
You were a stranger, an enemy. You did not belong here.
You wanted to turn back to the train but Coriolanus’s hold prohibited such action.
Someone opens the car door for him and he lets you enter first.
The silence that greets you helps to settle your nerves. With a final wave, Coriolanus joins you in the car, and it takes off from the crowd.
He sighs and readjusts his jacket so it falls in front of him.
Your hands shake so you keep them clamped together on your lap.
Coriolanus doesn’t speak to you as you peer out the window.
You felt as if you had stepped onto another planet.
The streets were colorful, both in design and people. Cars gilded next to you and in front of you. There were statues and water fountains on every corner.
All gained from the hard labor of the Districts.
Still, you couldn’t take your eyes off the passing scenery. You are hypnotized for the 20 minutes that the car drives. But it soon stops in front of a large brick building.
“Do you live here?” Was this your new home? You wondered.
“No one lives here,” he answers shortly.
He exits the car, holding the door open for you. Following him out, you hear the voice of a man greet Coriolnaus.
“Mr. Snow. Welcome.”
The man was a little overweight in a suit that was finely tailored to him. He had bleached his eyebrows and mustache, and wore many pieces of jewelry.
“Thank you for meeting with us.” Coriolanus shook the man’s hand but returns it to yours as soon as it ended.
“Of course, Mr. Snow. We were happy to accommodate you. Please, follow me.”
The man leads you both into the building and through the halls but only talks to Coriolanus about the history of the building.
It was a beautiful building that housed artwork and portraits along the walls.
You could tell Coriolanus didn’t care but remained civil. His fingers squeeze yours as he is ushered into a room.
Like everything in the Capitol, it is unnecessarily large and grand. Gold candle holders, rows and rows of pews made of expensive wood, oil painted artwork of important men loomed down at you.
“Just over this way, if you would please.”
The man leads you to a table on a small front stage. There was only one chair in front of it which Coriolanus pulls out for you.
The man passes Coriolanus a pen and tells him where to sign.
He does so quickly and elegantly.
“And now for you, Madam.”
Coriolanus passes you the pen but only small writing covered the page and you were hesitant to sign it.
“What is this?” You look up to the man, who rocked slightly side to side.
“It’s a marriage certificate.” Coriolanus answered for him.
“Marriage?”
Did marriage in the Capitol have the same meaning as marriage in the Districts? What did marriage in the Capitol truly entail and why was Coriolanus so eager to have you sign it?
“Yes. Marriage. Now sign the paper.” His hand curls around yours so you don’t drop the pen.
“Coriolanus-” Your words are cut short when his hand latches itself under your chin and yanks it up, keeping your hand directed at the paper. He forces your hand closer to the line.
“Sign the paper,” he commands. With his hand enclosed around yours, you sign your simple signature next to his cursive.
He releases you once you do.
“If you wanted a wedding then you shouldn’t have run off.” He spat at you.
Your hands shake uncontrollably and your eyes water but no sympathy is given by either man.
“You’ve robbed the Capitol of the wedding of the year, truly!”
“I think the Capitol will survive.” You feel Coriolanus tug you up, and the man follows his lead out the door.
“I am sure you are eager to get home and rest before election day.” the man spoke. His voice echoed through the large halls.
“May I just say what an honor it was to marry you two today! You two kids will set a trend. I’ll have young lovers knocking my door down to elope.”
You sob at his words.
“Forgive her. The journey was long.”
“Of course.”
With only three more steps until the door, the conversation died.
Coriolanus is quick in pace, and propelled you to move faster than you could in your heels.
You could hardly see through the tears in your eyes, so you reach blindly until you feel the car underneath your fingers.
“Thank you, sir.” He shakes hands with the man once again.
“Anything for our future president.”
Coriolanus opens the door and guides you inside as he says goodbye to the man.
He allows you to cry until the car pulls up outside of the apartment, at which he tells you to stop.
He pulls a handkerchief out of breast pocket and wipes the tears from your face as they fall.
From the outside you could hear the driver collecting the bags from the boot.
“You need to stop crying. We are home now.”
You take the handkerchief off him and dap your own tears. He longingly stares out the window.
He almost bounces in his seat. Eager to get up the stairs and back home.
Marriage is not the worst thing to have happened to you, nor the worst thing he could do.
It didn’t really mean anything, you told yourself. The Capitol probably wouldn’t even recognize a marriage between a Capitol citizen and District.
You push his patience as far as it would go before you are able to collect yourself.
“Ready?” he asks.
You give a curt nod and he swings the door open.
The driver passes the bags to a servant dressed in the same white dress as the ones on the train. They take them back into tall metal building.
It reached the sky in height, and a whole community of District 12 in width.
Coriolanus knew his way well. With all the wall ways, and feature spaces of the hotel, you were sure you would get lost escaping the building, yet alone the Capitol.
An elevator you knew as you stood in front of it. They had them in large government buildings that you would sometimes ride as you delivered material from work.
The elevator door opens and he hits the top floor.
As it goes up, you feel your stomach drop. Once you reached the top floor, would you ever go down again? Was your life now confined within this building?
It reaches the penthouse too fast. Your feet refuse to move as the door opens.
Coriolanus tries a gentle tug but as the doors try to close again, he motions turn into a pull.
“We’re almost there.” He digs in his pocket for a key.
His key ring that used to carry so many keys now only held three.
The sound of an opening door is met with a loud pop of streamers.
You flinch as the colorful tissues attack you.
A high pitch scream precedes a weight being thrown at Coriolanus but he catches it easily and with great joy.
You take the chance to jump back out of the way.
“Hey,” he laughs.You watch the cousins embrace. You had once promised yourself that letters would be as close as you got to Tigris and now she stood in front of you.
“Coryo! You’re finally home,” she captures his face in a loving embrace and he smiles back.
A crooning sound overtakes the moment and an old women takes the spot of Tigris.
“My boy. Future president of Panem.”
He leans down and kisses her on the cheek. She turns her head for him to do so, coming eye to eye with you.
She turns to you as Coriolanus releases her.
“Don’t just stand there, child. Come forward, let me take a look at you.”
Grandma’am eyes you, causing you to curl further into yourself.
Coriolanus clears his throat and places his hand on your lower back to move you forward.
“May I introduce Mrs. Snow.”
“Mrs. Snow! Oh Coryo!” Tigris gasps, “How could you?”
“We had too. The media would never have left us alone if they knew. But-” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small jewelry box, “We saved the most important part for you: the rings.”
He takes a ring out of the box. Your hand shakes but he holds it steady as he slides the ring on.
Fifty small rectangular diamonds cover a gold band. It was shiny and heavy on your finger.
Tigris gasps upon seeing it but you have no reaction.
He then passes you a gold band and holds his hand out to you.
You push the ring on his finger quickly.
It was enough for Tigris who claps and jumps.
She wraps her arms around your neck while her grandmother lifts your hand up to inspect the ring.
As they give you space, Coriolanus takes it, bringing you back into his arms.
“I want to hear everything!” Tigris says.
She walks to the living room table and takes a bottle of champagne out of a bucket of ice.
It could have been the lack of food and water over the past three days. It could have been the pure overwhelming feeling of it all. But as the cork of the champagne is opened, your knees give way and you collapse unconscious.
Coriolanus manages to catch you and you feel his hard arm under your head.
You hear him call out to you before the darkness fades your vision.
—----------
You wake at midnight in a fright.
You knew you were in a bed but everything was pitch black.
Was everything a dream? Was Edmund alive and just below you?
The answer was no. Coriolanus woke with your fast movements and worked quickly to pull you into his arms.
“Hey, you’re alright. You’re alright.”
You struggle against him in a panic.
“You’re alright. You’re safe,” he consoles.
“No, no, I’m not.” You feel his face under your fingertips and push against him.
He retaliates by capturing both your wrists in his hand, pulling them down.
“Stop it. Calm down now. You’re alright.”
His weight tugs on your wrists as he leans back to flick on the bedside lamp. It cast a yellow light in which you could see him clearly.
He had gone to sleep in only his underwear again. His old Commander ways were still clawing on.
You register that you had been re-dressed into cotton pants and a large top.
“Please, Coriolanus. Let me go. I haven’t done anything,” you cry.
He pulled you closer by your wrists so your body was leaning against his.
"Please, I am sorry,” your tears soak his bare chest but he doesn’t move, “I am so sorry.”
He moves his arms around you so you were cradled but it did nothing to help soothe you.
“No, no, please,” you struggle but his hold was tight. “I never did anything wrong.”
You tried so hard to be good. Now you were being punished for it.
“I know. I know that,” he insisted, bringing you closer.
“It’s okay. Just go back to sleep.”
You can’t. The image of Edmund swinging in the wind haunted you.
“Oh Edmund,” you cried. It wasn’t his fault. He was only trying to protect you.
Coriolanus made no comment given your state.
“It’s alright. Everything is alright,” he repeats. He hums softly, a song that his mother used to sing when he was a child. He was surprised he still remembered it, or most of it at least.
He used to hum it during his school years when academic pressure hindered his sleep.
It rose his anxiety levels just from the association with those years, but it worked to settle you so he continued.
Your mother used to hum you to sleep as well. When you had bad dreams, she would sit on your bed and run her fingers through your hair as she hummed.
It was easier to pretend that you were only a child back in your bed with your mother next to you, protecting you from all the horrors of the world.
—--------------
The next morning you woke as Coriolanus finished dressing for the day.
Your movement gains his attention, he finishes putting on his coat and comes to sit next to you on the bed.
“Hey, how’d you sleep?”.
He runs a warm hand over your face. You sit up to brush him off.
“I’ve told Tigris and grandma’am to leave you alone today so you can rest.”
Your stomach drops at the thought of being isolated again. You couldn’t be left alone with your thoughts today.
Already it’s racing with guilt.
You latch onto his arm.
“No. Coriolanus please, don’t lock me in here.”
He looks to weigh up his options before deciding.
“I won’t. But you need to show me that you can behave. I won’t have you upsetting Tigris or Grandma’am.
“I won’t,” you promise.
“They don’t need to know the full extent of us. Only that we are happy to be here together.”
“Ok, Coriolanus.”
You shove the thick blanket off and swing your body off the bed.
You follow Coriolanus to the kitchen table where Tigre’s and grandma’am sat eating breakfast.
Tigre’s rises as you enter into the room. She keeps her distance so not to overwhelm you.
“Y/N, how are you feeling?” She asks.
“Much better now. Thank you. I am sorry if I offended you yesterday. I wasn't feeling well.”
“No! Of course not.” Tigris exclaims, “God, you’ve been through so much. I couldn’t even imagine how you are feeling right now.”
Your eyes flick to her. Coriolanus had made it seem like her and Grandma’am knew nothing of the truth, but could she know at least part of it?
“You must have been so frightened when those rebels took you to the mountains,” Grandma’am commented between a scone.
Your eyes shoot at Coriolanus, who was already looking at you, silently telling you to be quiet.
A twisted truth is as good as the truth itself in his books.
“Yes, I was. Everyday. But I knew Coriolanus was coming.”
“Our Coriolanus isn’t scared of coward rebels!” Grandma’am exclaims.
Coriolanus was quick to change the subject at the first sound of silence, “Tigris, she hasn’t had breakfast yet.
The breakfast table is near silent as everyone ate.
It was a relief when Coriolanus kissed you goodbye. The company of Tigres was much easier to keep.
—-----��
Coriolanus was busy now that he was home. Interviews and meetings took most of his time now that the elections were coming up.
You saw little of Grandma’am, but Tigris almost always was in the apartment.
She tried to be kind to you. She often went out of her way to check on you. But you avoided her. Staying in the room you were placed in. If you said the wrong thing to her, it was sure to make its way back to Coriolanus, and your family was to pay for it.
Your days before Coriolanus returned home were filled by looking out the window, or preparing an item of clothing for Coriolanus. He always wanted to have at least one thing on that you had some part in preparing.
He tore off his buttons so you could sew them back on, you shined brand new shoes that didn’t need it, ironed shirts that had already been ironed for him.
You didn’t argue when he asked you to do it.
If you performed an action in the way he wanted, he would give you updates on your family.
From what you gathered, they were fed and allowed an hour outside together.
The day of the election came fast.
It felt as if it happened overnight, but it had been three days since your arrival in the Capitol.
The election was called at eight o'clock which meant the entire day was filled with buzz. People came in and out all day. Coriolanus spent the entire day on the phone, or in between breaks talking to the people in the room.
You sat in his chair as he worked standing. You watched the people as they came in and out. They looked different from people back home.
They all had something unusual about them. Funny color hair, a piercing that stuck out of their face. One thing they all had in common was their high quality clothing. Nothing like the sacks District clothes are made out of.
Grandma’am and Tigris had gone out to prepare themselves for the election. It was nearly night but they had been gone since the morning.
Coriolanus was in the middle of getting a haircut when two females came up to you and requested that you followed them.
Coriolanus told you to do so from where he sat. You didn’t ask why as you followed them to the bedroom.
With the door shut, they tell you to shower and come back so they can dress you for the election.
The news causes you to tense. You were not ready to face the Capitol.
But with no choice, you take a shower and return for them to do their work.
They only talk to each other as they work.
They dress you in a white strapless gown that split up the side to show more white sparkly tulle, and white heels that were shorter and easier to walk in than the pink heels that you had at the train station.
They gossip about elite members of the Capital. Who was cheating on who. Who wore what.
One burns you with a hot iron as she curls your hair because she leans forward to laugh. No apology is given as she continues to talk. She pins small white roses throughout your hair. The pins scrape your head as they enter your hair but you make no complaint.
You were grateful when they finished dressing you. As soon as they begin to pack up, you exit the room without a goodbye.
You run into Coriolanus, still with his team in the living room. He stood in front of a tall mirror as you had taken the main bedroom.
He matched you in white. Admittedly, he looked gorgeous in a double-breasted suit with his white shirt peeking out from it. The first few first buttons were undone and a silver chain with your ring hung around his neck.
He was fixing a white rose to his chest pocket when his eyes caught you in the mirror behind him.
“We are finished here,” he tells the room, who pack up immediately.
He looked nervous, and you supposed he should be. All his life had been leading up to this moment.
He talks low to you so the others don’t hear as they leave, almost whispering in your ear.
“Just a few more hours and you’ll be looking at the President of Panam.”
Your hands shook, and you flexed them to try and shake the nerves out.
Coriolanus, always hyper-aware, noticed, capturing your hands and bringing them up to his face to kiss.
“Shouldn’t I be the one shaking?” he jokes.
“I don’t want to go. You don’t need me there.”
“I do need you there.” He releases you, annoyed at your resistance.
You sit down on the couch as the people make their way to the door.
“Do I need to remind you that your performance tonight is crucial to your family's survival?”
“No,” you say softly, “That’s never left my mind.”
He crouches down in front of you, resting his hands on your waist.
“Good. Now people know you are District, but you’re not to mention it. If anyone mentions it to you, you tell me straight away.” He flicks your chin up so you are looking at him and not at your lap. “Hey, straight away.”
You nod your head in understanding. You had no plan to talk freely with any of the Capitol brood anyway.
“As first lady of Panem, you’ll be required to attend performances like these from time to time. I need to know I can trust you not to embarrass me when you do.”
You nod your head once again, “You can.”
You remember Ravenstill’s wife. All she did was smile and sit pretty. You could do the same, regardless of the pain you felt.
He raises himself slightly to press his lips against yours before rising entirely.
“The car is waiting down stairs.” You rise with him and he takes your hand in his through the walk.
The car ride is silent. Coriolanus began to practice his speech again as you stared out the window.
The Capitol seems quieter than usual. No car buzzed around as you drove. One or two passed but they seemed to be in their own rush. Not a person roamed the street.
All of the Capitol held their breath as they waited for their new President.
The car stops in front of a huge fountain surrounded by a large field. It was out of place amongst the sky scrapers. It was filled with people, all wearing peculiar colorful clothing. Nearly all of them wore a white rose upon their chest.
They surrounded a large stage lit up with bright lights.
Rows of chairs were lined across the back of the stage. People hovered around them, all wearing white like you. They greet Coriolanus as he walks through. Some of them even greet you, but you hate them all the same.
You see his grandmother and cousin sitting directly behind the podium. He seems to be trying to make a beeline to them, but people keep interrupting them.
He keeps his temper, politely dismissing them as he wades through the crowd.
His grandmother jumps up to kiss him. He uses his spare hand to bring her in close.
“President Snow, we salute you,” she says sincerely.
“I’ve not won anything yet, Grandma’am,” but his smirk told that he knew he was about to.
Grandma’am wore a hat of white roses but a simple white dress suit and pearls.
Tigris rose as well to hug her cousin now her grandmother was out of the way. Her strapless white dress hugged her curves right down to her ankles where the dress dissolved into white tulle. You could see the outline of white roses on her dress too. Her makeup was centered around the pale pink eyeshadow that was blown out towards her temple.
Finishing with Coriolanus, Tigris turns and hugs you, but you couldn’t manage it back.
Coriolanus leans down to whisper in your ear, “All you have to do is sit down next to Tigris and smile. Can you do that?”
Your families life depended on it, so you smile back at him to show that you could.
The Panem national anthem began to play bringing a hush over the audience as they all go back to stand in front of their seat and sing.
Coriolanus stood next to you, still holding your hand as he sung. The camera flashed in your face and you decide it was better to sing along.
The song finishes and the large screen behind you switches to a man with a microphone on one side and another man in a field similar to Coriolanus. You assumed the latter was his political opponent.
It was the cue for the people on stage to take a seat. You take yours next to Tigris and Coriolanus walks up to the podium.
Smaller screens are prompted up along the front of the stage so that no one on the stage was facing backwards.
You watch as the man with the microphone gives his introduction, introducing himself as Lucky Flickerman before the screen flashes to Coriolanus, and then cuts to Augustus.
You eye the open field. The guards were all focused to the front. There were a few people off the side but they looked mostly like stylists and operation managers. They would hardly put up a fight for you.
You could make it. At least on to the street. But how would you make it back home? How would you free your family? How could you live with yourself in District 12 without Edmund?
Tigress reaches out and entangles your hand with her in comfort. It brings you back to the election.
Lucky performs a few magic tricks as the final votes are counted.
“Now for the moment we have all been waiting for.'' An assistant runs up and places an envelope into Lucky’s hand.
“The results are in people! Who has Panem chosen to be our new leader? The savvy businessman or the fearless Commander? Let’s find out!”
Not a word was spoken as the man opened the envelope. It must have been the result he wanted, for he broke out into a grin and began to shake his head.
“Just as I predicted. Ladies and gentleman, the new President of Panem: Coriolanus Snow!”
The crowd erupts in cheering around you. Loud popping sounds precedes colorful confetti dropping from mounted cannons. Tigris lets go of your hand to clutch Coriolanus.
She sprang up from her seat and captured his head between her arms. His grandmother is next up to crowd him. He brushed off people quickly, he had a speech to make.
You wonder if you should get up but there were already too many people around him. You would only be in the way.
He makes his way to you, bending down to place a kiss on your cheek before turning back to shake hands with those around him.
The win came as no surprise to him but he wore a large smile, and seemed almost giddy at the news.
He turns back to the podium and people quieten as he gives his speech. You heard him mutter it a million times. You could almost recite it for him.
“Today is a new day for Panem,” it began.
You eye your freedom just down the stairs but remain seated and smiling.
You’re not sure how long Coriolanus spoke for, but the applause and cheering told you he had stopped.
Before you knew it he was standing in front of you with an outstretched hand. You take it and he stops to kiss his family, giving them instructions as to where they should now go before he leads you down the steps and into the crowd.
You shrink back as they gather around him. His grasp hurt. Your bones in your hand felt as if they were about to pop out of place. But it was too easy to get lost in the crowd, so he wouldn’t loosen it.
Too many voices overlapped to hear any single one. A few pats on your shoulder was all the attention you received while Coriolanus was drowning in a sea of people.
You couldn’t make out his words over the people and the music. You let yourself be overtaken with the senses.
You smiled and nodded at people as you passed them. It was Coriolanus’ big night, you couldn’t even fathom the punishment if you were to make a mistake tonight.
You stay close to him, just over his shoulder.
He looks back to check on you one or two times but never opens his mouth.
Confetti had been hidden in his curls. You focused on counting the pieces.
The whirl-pool of people seemed to never end. As soon as one person faded another took their place.
It must have been half an hour before Coriolanus made the small distance to the apartment block.
It was 30 stories with a roof top bar that was pumping with lights and music.
The rest of the people would mingle down below with food and drinks. Huddling around the colorful glass standing tables.
You reach the entrance, guarded by two peacekeepers, and Coriolanus leads you in front of him as he presses the button for the elevator.
It was quick to come and Coriolanus pushed your hips to make you move inside.
He lets go of you as you enter and gives a wave to his fans as the door closes.
The elevator is dead quiet. Only the faint sound of pumping music could be heard.
You think he is too wrapped up in his victory to pay you any mind now you were out of sight of the public.
You were relieved almost to be out from under his attention. But he moves quick to push you up against the wall and smash his lips onto yours.
His hands steady your face as he assaults your lips.
He leaves you out of breath and grins at you widely for it.
The door dings open, and he pulls back from you. Only taking a loose grip of your hand.
Another cheer for the President was heard over the music as he steps out.
You look around the room at all the people in white. Supporters of a maniac.
Tigris and Grandma’am were offered a lounge chair as they ate and drank.
“Look,” he spoke to you, taking a green drink off a tray offered to him, “The apple pie drink you wanted. I requested it especially for you.”
He passed you the drink as a man approached him.
You managed to get a “thank you” out before the stranger began to talk.
Coriolanus paid you no more mind the rest of the night. He spoke and joked freely with the party goers while stringing you along behind him.
A few spoke to you about mundane things but Coriolanus was quick to end any longer talk then a few seconds.
The drink did taste like apple pie. A low rate apple pie. You could bake one much better. But for a drink it was fine. You ended up drinking three before Coriolanus snatched the fourth and placed it on a nearby table.
Tigres caught your eye a couple of times. You knew she was making sure you were alright. She was kind, and so ‘un-Capitol’.
Grandma’am was more true to her up-bringing. She insisted on teaching you the ways of the Capitol, and training you out of your ‘District ways’.
“It'll be our secret,” she told you over breakfast this morning, “I’ll defend you against the District rumors.”
In a way you supposed it was sweet of her. Although her intentions could very well be for Coriolanus' benefit rather than yours.
The later it got, the quieter it got.
People began disappearing. Others passed out on sofas and lounges.
Coriolanus' energy never seemed to drain, but Tigris’ and Grandma’am’s did.
Tigris had come over and interrupted Coriolanus' conversation. She offered to take you home with her and Grandma’am but Coriolanus was resistant.
“She’s fine, Tigris. I’ll bring her home with me.”
If you had been on equal standing with Coriolanus, you would have protested and just left but you were mud under his shoe, so you smiled at Tigris and told her you would see her in the morning.
Tigris kissed both of you goodbye. You hold on to her for too long. You could tell from the way Coriolanus squeezed your hand.
The party continued long after she had gone.
Your legs hurt from standing in the heels and your dress was too tight to have eaten all you did over the course of the night.
Coriolanus could sense that you were nearing the end of what you could take, so he began his final lap of victory around the room.
You were beyond grateful when he ushered you into the car.
You sighed as you sunk down into the plush leather seats, taking off your heels instantly.
“Thank you for tonight,” he said as the car entered the main road which had returned to its normal state of business even late at night, “You were very well behaved.”
“Congratulations on your win,” you return.
“Snow always lands on top,” he talks softly as he gazes out to the city.
The car rolls through the city smoothly. Coriolanus watches it pass from the window.
You feel half-asleep resting your head back on the seat.
You feel him move you down to a lying position and your eyes shoot wide open. His fingers brush your skin as he slides the skirt of your dress up.
“What are you doing?” You catch his hands and he lowers his head.
He hushes you as he slides your panties off your hips, “All the drivers talk.”
Trapped in a car in a city that kills your people for entertainment, you lay back and don’t make a sound.
You clutch the back of the seat in a tight hold as Coriolanus begins.
Edmund was barely cold in the ground and here you were, being eaten out by the man who killed him.
You try not to focus on it as Coriolanus' lips and tongue work. It pulls a moan from you and Coriolanus hits your thigh.
You press your tongue between your teeth to avoid making noise. A hand makes its way into Coriolanus’ curls and tugging on them gives you a sense of satisfaction.
It encourages him however and his movements become more targeted and passionate.
The car pulls to the curb in front of his house by the time you had made a mess in the backseat.
You lay back with your legs spread as you come down from your high.
A chill shoots through you as the door is opened by the driver but Coriolanus pulls it closed before he could see the scene.
You get up despite not being ready too. Coriolanus grabs your shoes and pockets your panties, taking your hand when its free.
You both emerge from the car as if nothing had happened.
It was late and cold. You thank the driver as you pass him.
The building was huge. Nearly all the floor was covered in titles and your feet made a sound against them.
You try to slow your walk to quite the sound, but Coriolanus was eager to get up to the apartment.
He storms across the lobby, and courtyard before reaching the steps that lead to the elevator.
He presses the button too many times. It doesn’t make it come any faster.
The house is dark and silent as you enter. The women went to bed hours ago, and you were hopping to follow suit.
Coriolanus leads you to his bedroom which is large and not yet decorated.
You pull free from him as you enter. Immediately you tear all the pins and roses from your hair.
You hear Coriolanus drop your shoes.
He clears his throat to gain your attention.
“Your brother and mother have been freed from the compound.”
Your fingers freeze in your hair. It felt as if he had lifted a great weight off your chest. You turn to him in gratitude.
“Thank you, Coriolanus.”
He smiles down at you before stooping down to your height and placing a firm kiss to your lips.
You push back against his shoulders after the kiss continues past a normal amount of time.
He pushes back, bracing you against the bed with him on top of you.
His lips turn to your neck as he unzips the back of your dress.
“Coriolanus, please don’t,” you beg.
He slides the dress’s straps off your shoulder as he responds, “Please, just give this to me. Don’t make me take it.’’
The dress is taken off you, and Coriolanus strips it off with kisses.
Only when a kiss is placed on your hip do you begin to struggle.
This man had tormented you for months. Starved you. Robbed you. Killed the man you loved. You would give him nothing freely.
You kick and push him away, but he is stronger.
“Hey. Hey, it’s okay.” He pulls you upward by your wrists to the pillows.
“No! Get off of me!”
“Y/N, please. Please,” he pleads.
You continue to fight but he persists.
“Please, don’t make me do this.”
“No. No. Edmund! Mum!”
“Shut up,” it was less of a command and more of a plea, “Please, shut up.”
You do. What would your resistance gain you? A few more seconds until the inevitable.
His grip loosens as you are still beneath him.
With only a weak hold of your wrists, he pulls off his clothes. You can hear the movement but can’t force your eyes to open.
Tears leak down your cheeks but you refrain from making a sound.
“It’s alright. I’ll take care of you.”
He lines himself up and pushes in with ease. The pain was subsided due to your wetness from the car ride but the first slow thrusts felt slightly painful and uncomfortable.
You whine slightly as you adjust to the intrusion. You fight to release your wrists from his hold, you wanted to push back on his shoulders, feeling as if he was too deep.
“It’ll only hurt for a little bit,” he promised, continuing his slow movements.
He kisses you as you let out another whine.
Soon the pain did stop, and an enjoyable sensation began to form.
Coriolanus tried his best to remain slow, but as he got lost in his own lust, he forgot about your pain.
It felt as if he was bruising you. But his mouth never left yours so you couldn’t voice a complaint.
Your hips jerk away from him, trying to ease the pressure but his spare hand stills your hip, making you take the full brunt of what he wanted to give you.
He pulls his head back from yours and groans.
“Ah,” he grunts.
“Coriolanus-” you had wanted to ask him to slow down but you feel yourself tightening around him as you come.
His hand moves from your wrists and intertwines with your hand. He presses his weight down as he picks up his pace to chase his own high.
“Wait, wait!” you were through. Every second after was too much.
“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he grunts.
You groan from the pressure as he continues.
“Almost there, darling.”
His last few thrusts are hard but the pressure turns into a warm pool between your legs.
Coriolanus is still as he rests his forehead upon your shoulder. You don’t move either, unsure of what to do.
A few moments later and he raises his head, repositioning himself so his arms cage around your head.
He drags a finger down the bridge of your nose and it runs off your cheek like a tear.
“Welcome to the Capitol, Mrs. Snow.
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#coriolanus snow#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#dark!coriolanus snow#coriolanus x reader#tom blyth#hunger games#dead dove do not eat#commander snow
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I had this interesting scenario where Vox one day becomes exhausted from his rivalry with Alastor after realizing that the one-sided interactions were becoming old.
He later meets the reader (who can also be a part of the hotel) who starts hacking into Voxtech's database to troll the company for shits and giggles. This catches Vox's attention and he's pissed about it. You can do what you want for the rest but they continue to have this rivalry to the point where it's very well known around hell. From an outside perspective, there is just back-and-forth angry banter but there are moments where they're just;
Reader: *appears on screen* Hey Box head, guess who found some good blackmail with your name on it-
Vox: *Is so close to having a breakdown, he had a bad week.*
Reader: Oh shit- did something happen, are you okay? 😰
They hate each other but they don't hate hate each other. This can be taken as platonic or romantic.
I sent this request to someone else but I wanted to share anyway.
Vox x troll/hacker reader: Why So Blue? (Oneshot/concept version)
Why So Blue fic Masterlist
A/N me when I get to write Vox getting utterly humiliated by a troll-y hacker demon 🫶
I changed about the order of stuff as things happen a bit and took creative liberties with this one - sorry if it's really different then the thought you originally had.
(REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, THIS WAS FROM THE LAST TIME THEY WERE OPEN)
Update: This was really well-received, and several people have requested a part 2. I've decided that I will be writing it properly from the start in a proper chapter kind of way rather than in this format so it makes continuity kind of work better rather then the drabbl-y format used here.
Cw: SFW, romantic, enemy's to lovers type beat, references to one-sided radiostatic, also references to staticmoth, mildly suggestive in one part 💀, gn reader, mostly light-hearted - idk if it qualifies as quite hurt/comfort lmao
- It was just a normal morning for Vox when you first showed up.
- As usual, he booted up for the day, got changed out of his casual clothes, and made his morning coffee.
- As he walked into his computer room, absentmindedly sipping his coffee while looking at his phone, he sits down in his desk.
- Then promptly spits out his mouthful.
- When he finally looks up at the screens around him, he's mortified to see a muted video of himself passionately (and very drunkly) singing and dancing horribly from last night while he was out with Valentino and Velvette.
- Posted on Sinstagram from his own account.
- Hundreds of comments flooded in underneath it; laughing, saying it's cute, complimenting his singing, and talking about the caption underneath with curiosity.
- The caption reads; 'For someone who talks so big about being ahead technologically, it was awfully easy to hack old Boxy here LMAO'
- Vox flips out instantly.
- It doesn't take long to take down the post, change all of his details, and post an official apology for his lack of professionalism with a hypnotising message to forget the whole incident occurred at all. He also does a massive comb over for any other breaches and changes all of his systems to be even more impenetrable to a potional attack.
- He calms down, and the incident fades away to the back of his mind.
- But then it happens again.
- Another morning, an employee is rushing into his studio as he wakes up properly, telling him this time that someone is somehow broadcasting Rick Astley's 'Never Gonna Give You Up' to the entirety of hell at 6 am, interrupting every one of the scheduled programs.
- There's a message in big letters on the bottom of every screen in hell, under the god forsaken video and song playing, saying, "What is love~? - U" Underneath them.
- And that's how it starts, the infuriating thorn in Vox's side that is 'U'. No matter how hard he tries, you're constantly undermining his efforts to keep you out of the system and tormenting him in ways that aren't necessarily malignant but are extremely damaging to his image as the overlord of technology.
- For some reason, he's the only Vee you seem hellbent on coming after as well. Vel finds your pranks funny or cute when they don't inconvenience her, and Valentino just likes to prod Vox into getting angrier further.
- He just cannot work out what your motivations are at all. Is it truly that you just want to piss him off? He doesn't understand why someone with such clear skills would simply use them to taunt him and leave him messages to unveil as he undoes whatever you do.
- It vexes him even farther when these messages from you that you leave for him to decode start to sound borderline flirtatious, which makes him feel all the more humiliated.
- He is a grown demon, skilled businessman and entrepreneur, an overlord, and yet you insist upon calling him things like Box, Boxbabe, Boxbitch, and even babygirl of all things for some goddamn reason.
- The back and forth goes on for months, and 'U' quickly becomes a long lasting meme, several people, much to Vox's horror, shipping you two together and even partaking in ship wars as to whether Vox x 'U' is better then Vox x Val.
- Theres one day where Vox quickly puts his phone down after reading a rather concerning expert from what is certainly explicit fanfiction between the two of you, even him deciding that that's enough internet for today while just sitting staring off into space silently for a solid 10 seconds.
- Vox's sleepless nights pouring over his code to try and keep out your attacks, him glitching out whenever he finds infuriating messages left by you, etc. Begin to become routine and he just anticipates the consistent blows to his pride you give him at every turn.
- A weird, unconscious part of him deep down begins to enjoy your rivalry, almost wanting to see what punches you pull out next to disarm his constant losing battle to keep you out, but it gets squashed down the second he becomes aware of it.
- The rivalry is always at arms length, but sometimes he has to stop himself from replying with the same vaguely flirtatious tone you take on whenever he experiences a small win against you.
- He fights to make sure he doesn't have any potential of getting too into it.
- Things take a different turn, though, with the double blow of Alastor coming back and his on-off relationship with Valentino once again going up in flames.
- After stopping his usual monitoring of all things going on in hell online and in real life as picked up by his cameras, he presses his face into his hands with a long, exhausted groan as he fights crying.
- All the people he was actually interested in were as unrequited as per usual. He always tried so hard with Alastor, but as always, he never got anything but met with the clear reminder they would never be anything more.
- And, of course, any potential of anything more happening with Val was completely off the table. It would be stupid to even think about anything real with him.
- He shut his eyes, putting his screen on the desk in front of him.
- Was he just not worth it? Was that it?
- He startled when he heard the familiar crackle of the speakers coming to life around him. It was rare he ever heard your voice coming through his speakers, you usually preferring to just leave messages, however you decided to surprise him tonight apparently.
- Your blurred out face appears on the screens, only showing the lower half of your grinning face.
- "Oh Boooooxybooooy! I found some world-shattering cringey shit you did 2 months back, i-" You begin singing out, before stopping, seeing by his expression.
- Vox was trembling, looking as if he was about fall apart at any second. His monitor was dulled, red eyes half lidded with pixelated bags forming under them, his bottom lip slightly quivering around his sharp teeth.
- "What the- fuck- ....are you alright?" You asked unsurely.
- Vox finally snapped out of it, realising that you were here witnessing him in a way that was very much not something he wanted you of all people to see him in. His mask slid back on, but it was hardly convincing.
- "Of course it is. What the fuck do you wa-ant. I've got shit to do." He inwardly cursed as his voice glitched slightly. God fucking dammit why did you have to show up.
- He watched your lips on your mostly blurred out face slightly curl as you hummed, clearly not buying it.
- "You wanna stop with the lying bullshit and tell me the truth, Boxhead?" You somewhat chided him, your hand coming into sight as you leaned your cheek onto it. Vox let out a growling sound, going to spit some vitriol at you, but was cut off as you absentmindedly made your next comment.
"Felt you once again have a fit about the radio demon going online. Lights in my house and the houses out my windows started flashing and shit. Is it hi-" your brows shot up and eyes widened, this hidden behind the censorship as you watched Vox, leader of the Vees, your rival, let out a shuddering breath and actually start crying comically pixilated tears right before your eyes.
- Vox's claws gripped into his desk as he grit his teeth as he let out a gasping breath he fought to stifle. He was so goddamn exhausted that he just couldn't be assed to keep it all up anymore. It wasn't like you hadn't seen rather unsavoury things he'd been trying to hide anyways.
- "No shit it's about Alastor. It's always about him. Does it get you off knowing I can't get with the guy I have always wanted no matter how hard I try? There. Are you fucking happy now?" His voice cracks as he snarls the words out at you.
- You let out a long humming sound, as if thinking. "I mean, not really. I'd only be happy if you were this upset over me, not some old hazbin radio announcer who fell off years ago." You shrug with a slightly sad smile.
- Vox squinted at you, confused.
- "I mean, come on, I'm your rival too. Why neglect me so much in all this?" You press your bottom lip out in mock sadness, tone mocking again. Your words are true despite the joking tone however, it did bother you that he always seemed so much more ready to go running after the most obviously aroace man you think you had seen in your entire fucking life.
- Vox couldn't believe what he was hearing, hot embarrassment caused his monitor to start heating up a bit, painting animated flush over his cheeks. "Oh, stop taking the piss, U. Fuck off." He scoffed, rolling his eyes, looking to the side in irritation.
- You chuckle at him, shaking your head and causing the thing blurring your face to shake with it. "Is it really that hard to believe I'm into what we have going on here?" Your voice is still lined with the usual tone you take on with him, but much less so.
- Vox looks back at your blurred, smiling face incredulously. "Yes." He growled, blinking his tears away as he regained his composure a bit.
- You sigh heavily, rolling your eyes. "Ooookay, well, once you're done riding the coattails of a man who will never want you, come hit me up, Boxhead." You say through smiling lips, before abruptly pressing 'hang up' on the call so he didn't have time to actually respond.
- Vox sat in bewildered silence, not able to react properly as his brain felt as if it was working on low resolution comprehending what you just said.
- His face heated up the more he thought about it, heart beginning to hammer in his chest as he laughed in disbelief. No way. No fucking way.
- But you had said it.
- Despite his usual pessimistic nature, he allowed himself to actually believe it, chuckling.
- He looked over to his phone as a notification sound rang out to see a photo of himself presumably just now; flustered, eyes wide in disbelief and unfocused while staring off into space, a crooked grin on his face.
- It was captioned as follows; 'POV: local pathetic radio simp finds out other rival actually wants him'
- "FUCK." He yelled out in embarrassment, knocking out several of his monitors with a surge of electricity.
I loved writing this sm omfggg.
There's definitely part 2 potential to this one, but it would have to be in a while w all the other stuff I'm gonna get to first.
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Worth It For Once
Frankie Morales x f!reader | 18+ | ao3
chapter word count: 9.6k
Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge, song: Slut!
summary: After months of the whispers, rude comments and snide glances from people around town, you’re fed up. You’re trying not to let them get to you, but it’s getting harder to shake it off. And then you meet Frankie Morales.
a/n: this is part of @beskarandblasters' Taylor Swift Drabble (lol) Challenge! My song is "Slut!" from 1989. Sorry, Kel, this isn’t exactly a drabble. Spanish translations provided in parentheses. Thank you as always @katareyoudrilling aka the best beta 🧡
tags/warnings: flirting, banter, food and drink mention, reader has no description other than having a vagina and brief mention of breasts, able-bodied reader, reader’s ex spread mean rumors about her, small town gossip, bartender!reader, derogatory language used in a derogatory way (slut, other things) (not by Frankie), Frankie speaks Spanish and reader understands, pet names (hermosa, baby, querida, bebita), smut: kissing, groping, hickies, oral (f!receiving), p-in-v sex (protected), fingering (f!receiving), cuddling, oral against a wall
...
You could hear them talking about you.
You’d heard your name, which gave it away, but also the words “Chris”, “easy,” and “slut” and, well. You knew.
It’s not like they tried to hide it, really. But you always knew when they were talking about you. If the glances and overheard words didn’t give it away, the laughing whenever you walked by did.
You sighed as you gathered the glasses from the newly empty table by the low stage at the back of the room. “Just ignore them,” Laura had whispered to you earlier. “They’re not worth it.”
As always, it didn't really help.
You carried the dirty dishes back behind the bar and ignored the sudden, ostentatious hush from the corner booth full of guys that you had to pass to get there. They could at least try to be less obvious about it. You locked eyes briefly with Laura, the other bartender on duty that night and your best friend, and she frowned sympathetically. You shook your head in response. You both knew there was nothing you could do about it.
Once you were done dropping off your load in the kitchen, you allowed yourself one brief moment of leaning against the wall of the dark hallway that led back to the bar. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.
“Fuck them,” you whispered to yourself. “And fuck him.” You shook your head and heaved yourself back up, heading back to work.
…
“You’d think they’d get tired of it,” Laura remarked, pushing her way back behind the bar with the signed tab from the corner booth. After a couple more hours of irritation they had finally left.
“Not so far,” you sighed. “And it’s not just them. They’re just the worst ones.” Chris’ friends hadn’t let up in the 6 months since you’d been broken up and didn’t show any signs of losing interest in making your life miserable.
Laura furrowed her brow and made a disgusted noise. “They’re such assholes. At least he knows better than to come here.”
You nodded. It was the one silver lining around the whole situation – Chris would never set foot in this bar again, if he knew what was good for him. “Bill would kick him out and he knows it.” Bill was your boss and the owner and he had hated Chris even before you’d started dating.
Laura laughed, darkly. “He may be able to lie to most of the town, but Bill would never believe him.” She sighed as she started cleaning up behind the bar. “I don’t know why they all believe him anyway.”
You shrugged. You’d had a lot of time to think about this question, and you were pretty sure you knew the answer. It was simple, in the end. “He’s from here. I’m not.”
With a huff, Laura rolled her eyes. “That’s so stupid. You’re from here, too. You were six when your parents moved to town.”
You smiled a little. She was a good friend, but she was wrong about this. “That’s not enough for them, and you know it.” Them being all the old money families in town, the ones who hadn’t thought you were good enough for Chris in the first place. The ones who heard about your break up and clucked like satisfied old hens, finally proven right. The ones who gossiped about you over brunch and at the golf course every weekend. She was never right for him anyway. He can do better. You knew that’s what they thought – some of them had said it to your face.
But at least your bar wasn’t really their scene.
“God I hate this town,” Laura muttered, violently shoving the dishwasher closed. “How’d we get stuck here, anyway.”
You laughed and nudged her with your elbow. “It’s not so bad. Just have to ignore them.”
She eyed you. “Is that working for you? Ignoring them?”
You bit your lip and turned, trying to hide your face from her scrutiny. “Most days, sure.” You felt her arms come around you from behind and smiled at the hug.
“My offer to punch him still stands.”
Your smile turned into a grin. She’d offered the day of the break up and reminded you often ever since.
“Thank you, but I’ll pass.”
Laura grumbled as you both got busy cleaning up behind the bar and turned to talking about your plans for your upcoming day off. One more day of work and you had almost a whole free weekend, for once. You tried to shrug off your tension from a night of dodging the looks of the many people in this town who’d decided you were worth about as much as a bit of dirt on the bottom of their shoes. It sort of worked.
…
The next day was your last day of work before your day off, but you didn’t work until the evening. You celebrated by sleeping until almost noon.
Once you were awake and showered and feeling generally more alive, you decided to head to the coffee shop downtown for a late breakfast. You ignored the possibility that you might run into one of Chris’ friends there – you’d decided months ago not to let them keep you from doing what you wanted.
You were pleased to see that it wasn’t too busy when you arrived and your favorite table by the window was open and waiting for you. You ordered quickly and snagged it, settling in with your current book.
You glanced up as the door opened with a light jingle a few minutes later and did a double take.
It was him.
Not your ex, thank God, but him – the man who’d been slowly taking over your thoughts and daydreams for the last month or so.
Frankie Morales, recent arrival in town and newbie-turning-regular at the bar you worked at. He’d been flirting with you since the moment you met, and you were living in fear of the day he would hear the rumors and stop.
As he stepped into the shop he removed his hat and ran his hand through his curly hair, which caused it to fluff up and fall cutely around his face. He replaced the hat quickly, though, and glanced around the shop. You started to look away, afraid to be caught, but he met your eyes and grinned.
Changing course, he turned from the path to the counter to walk towards your spot at the window.
“Fancy meeting you here,” his brown eyes twinkled at you as he came to stand next to you. “You busy? Can I join you?” He nodded hopefully towards the empty chair across from you, and you started to smile.
“Sure, Frankie,” you felt hesitant but you didn’t want him to leave. You started to rearrange your belongings to give him some space.
“I’ll order and be right back.” He gestured back over his shoulder at the counter.
You nodded and smiled and tried not to stare as he turned and walked away from you.
There was a short line at the register. You tried to keep from watching him wait there but only succeeded in limiting it to quick glances at him out of the corner of your eye. You couldn’t help but trace your eyes over the way he looked in his jeans and denim shirt. He was so broad. You shook your head, trying to clear it.
Frankie was next in line when the door jingled again, and to your dismay two of the guys who’d just spent the entire previous night laughing at you at the bar walked in. You ducked your head, hoping they wouldn’t notice you. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched in growing horror as they came to stand behind Frankie. You clenched your hands in your lap and tried to breathe.
One of them clearly spotted you and a smirk came across his face that sent your stomach plummeting to your feet. He elbowed his friend and you couldn’t hear what he said, but Frankie clearly could.
His back stiffened and his hands clenched into fists. You desperately wanted to know what they were saying and you really didn’t want Frankie to hear it. You were frozen, wondering if this was it, if this was the end of whatever had been building between you since you met. Wondering if it was over before it even began.
Frankie ordered and you could see the tension in his frame as he tried to ignore the two men behind him when they started to laugh. You couldn't take it anymore and closed your eyes, hiding behind your hands.
Just a moment later you heard footsteps returning to your table.
“Hey,” his voice was low and soothing and you couldn’t help but look up at him. He was still tense, but his face was gentle as he looked at you. “Do you want to get out of here?”
You swallowed, mouth dry. You couldn’t tell if he was offering to go somewhere together, but you shook your head regardless.
“I try not to let them make choices for me about where I go or what I do.” You twisted your fingers together, wondering if that was too direct, too much of an admission. Did he know?
Frankie nodded, a thoughtful frown on his face as he sat across from you. His eyes darted behind you to your right and his frown deepened. You resisted the urge to turn and look.
“Is it always like that?” As he asked, he slid his right hand across the table to touch the back of yours lightly with his fingertips. You shivered.
“Not with everyone.” He slid his hand over yours and squeezed gently. You continued, “but with some people in town, yeah. What–” you cleared your throat. “What did they say?” You needed to know what they’d said in his hearing, but at the same time, you never wanted to know. You’d heard enough.
Frankie shook his head, scowling. “I’m not gonna repeat it.”
You winced.
“Hey,” he squeezed your hand again, leaning towards you. “I’m not listening to them, alright? I promise. I haven’t, and I won’t.”
You blinked, taking that in. He hasn’t? Past tense? “You mean, you’ve heard something– I mean, something else? They said something? Before now?”
Frankie ran his thumb gently over the back of your hand, searching between your eyes for something. “Yes. But I haven’t paid them any attention. I promise, ok?”
You took a deep breath and tried to push back the pricks of emotion you felt building behind your eyes. “I’m sorry, Frankie, I don’t know what you heard but I can imagine, but it’s not–”
“Shh,” he hushed you gently and scooted his chair around the small round table towards you so he could take both of your hands in his. “Hey, no. I promise, I’m not listening to them. I know what small towns are like, hermosa. I know what small people are like. I’d rather hear about you from you. I–” he smiled, a bit sheepishly. “I’ve been trying to get up the nerve to ask you out for weeks.”
You grasped at his hands, clutching where he was already holding them. “You have?”
“Yeah, I have. Just wasn’t sure you’d be interested.” You scoffed and he smiled. He said your name quietly and leaned forward. “D’you want to go out with me?”
You bit your lip. “Are you sure? You know they won’t– they’ll talk. I don’t want them to start with you, too.”
Frankie frowned and looked down. When he met your eyes again his gaze was fierce. It pinned you in place.
“They’ll talk anyway, and I don’t give a fuck what they think.” He squeezed your hands. “I only care what you think. Can I take you out, hermosa?”
You nodded and started to smile.
He smiled back. “When are you free?”
“Well, tomorrow’s my day off,” you started. He grinned when you continued, “how’s tomorrow night?”
He nodded, looking excited. “Baby, I’d love that. Mind if I drop by your work later today, too?”
Baby. You shivered and nodded and as he started to plan your date, you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face.
…
You headed into work that night with the smile still on your face. Frankie had promised to come by the bar that night, so you’d be seeing him soon. That thought combined with your excitement for the date had you floating through the doors of Bill’s bar.
Laura took one look at you and demanded details, which you happily provided as you got ready in the back together.
Laura knew him too, since Frankie and his friend Santiago had first visited the bar almost two months before, when Frankie had first moved to town. His best friend had helped him move and stayed in town for a few days while he got settled, you’d learned that night. Among other things. (Like how pretty Frankie’s eyes were when he smiled at you, and how he hadn’t stopped smiling at you the whole night. How he’d been looking at you like that ever since.)
You knew you’d been standoffish in the beginning. You’d wondered if he’d figured it out, if he’d heard the things they said about you and seen the way they looked at you in town. And now you knew he had, but as you thought back over the time you’d known him, you realized you couldn’t figure out when that might have been. He’d never treated you differently, never stopped flirting with you. Never hesitated, never looked at you with anything but delight and wonder in his eyes.
“So, a date with Frankie, huh,” she nudged you with her elbow as you walked back towards the front together, ready to start your shift.
You nodded. “He’s coming by tonight.” You felt the smile tugging at the edge of your lips where it had made its home since you saw him at the coffee shop. “Not sure when, though.”
She went through the door first, and you heard her laugh. “Now.”
“What?” you asked as you came through. You turned to see what she was looking at.
“Now. He’s already here.” Laura kept laughing as she headed to the other end of the bar and you grinned as you locked eyes with the man waiting for you at the bar. He smiled back and watched you approach.
“Frankie, didn’t you just get done with work like half an hour ago?”
He shrugged. “Wanted to see you, hermosa. Just went home to change and figured, why wait?”
You laughed. “You know I won’t be able to talk to you much, right?” You wanted to stay and chat but you knew work would pull you away, repeatedly.
“I know.” He nodded. “I’ll be here when you’re free.”
The idea of Frankie wanting to see you so badly he’d sit here alone made something twist in your chest. “Ok, Frankie.”
It wasn’t busy yet, so you stayed to chat until some of the regulars started to arrive. Somehow, even with the interruptions of you needing to actually do your job, you felt connected with him like you were on two ends of a string. You’d pour a drink and glance up, and find him already looking at you. Or think about him and look over to find him smiling down at his drink, looking like maybe he was thinking about the same thing.
Laura teased you mercilessly about the smile on your face that you couldn’t seem to get rid of.
Your good mood lasted through the first couple of hours of your shift, but right after the dinner rush you turned towards the taps to find Laura in front of you, scowling.
“What is it?” She shadowed you as you started to pour a couple of pints for the guys at the other end of the bar.
“They’re here,” she whispered, gesturing with her head towards the back corner.
Your shoulders climbed up around your ears at the news. “Of course they are. Which ones?”
She crossed her arms and huffed. “Jared and his buddies.” Jared was Chris’ best friend, and usually the ringleader whenever he wasn’t around.
“Great,” you muttered.
She helped you carry the drinks back. “Hey, you know I’ve got their table. Don’t worry about it.” You nodded and bumped her hip with yours in thanks.
Laura headed over to meet them and you tried to put them out of your mind. They were all the way across the bar from where Frankie was sitting, and you moved back towards him.
He was studying you as you walked up and you knew he’d probably seen them come in. “Is that more of them?” he asked, voice low. You nodded. He sighed. “I’m glad Laura’s got your back.”
“Yeah,” you agreed as you refilled his water. “I usually don’t have to talk to them at all.”
Frankie tilted his head, thoughtful. “Do they come in here just to bother you?”
You sighed and leaned towards him, crossing your arms. “I think so. They never came here before.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Before?” He repeated, obviously curious.
“Before I broke up with their friend. He’s not here, Bill won’t allow it.”
“Good,” Frankie murmured, brow furrowed. “But they keep coming back?”
“At least a few times a week,” you confirmed.
He glanced across the bar at them, frowning. “What do they do?”
You shook your head and reached out to turn his head back to face you. He smiled and tilted his jaw so that his cheek rested against your palm. “Mostly just stare and talk about me. I can’t hear them, usually, but they make it obvious.”
You could tell he wanted to ask why. Why they bothered you, why they did all this. The surprising thing was how much you wanted to tell him.
“I’ll tell you about it later, ok? Not here.” You brushed your thumb over his cheek and his smile grew.
He nodded. “Ok, baby. But you don’t have to tell me anything, it’s like I told you. I want to learn about you from you. There’s no rush.”
You smiled, warmed by his words, and headed back to work.
…
A few hours later, the crowd was winding down and Laura waved you off when you offered to stay and close with her.
“We don’t need you,” she said, gesturing down the bar towards Sean, whose shift had started later than yours. “Go take your man home.” You laughed, and glanced back at Frankie, but he wasn’t looking at you.
He was frowning and looking off to his right because Jared was walking straight towards him.
You squeezed Laura’s arm and she turned to look. “Shit,” she muttered. “Maybe he’s just going to the bathroom.”
You both winced as Jared stopped right beside Frankie’s chair. You started to move towards them, but Jared was already speaking.
“... you shouldn’t bother with her, man, she’s a real piece of work.” Jared’s snooty tone grated on your nerves. It’d been a while since you had to listen to it.
“Excuse me?” Frankie’s voice was low and you could hear the anger in it. He looked absolutely furious, mouth drawn into a straight line, brows furrowed. His hands were clenched on the bar in front of him.
“Hey, ready to go?” You spoke only to Frankie, ignoring Jared, who huffed. “I’m off for the night.” Frankie nodded, visibly taking a deep breath and releasing his fists.
Jared sneered and you caught it out of the corner of your eye. “You know, even for one night she’s not worth the–”
You cut him off before he could say whatever vile thing he was thinking. “Get lost, Jared.”
He huffed again and turned from you to Frankie. “Look, man, I get she’s probably fine in bed, given where she’s been, but I promise you, you don’t want to touch this one with a 10-foot pole.”
Frankie looked like he was thinking about putting Jared on the ground and you decided enough was enough.
“C’mon, Frankie,” you slipped out from behind the bar and tugged him towards the back with you. “Let me grab my stuff and we can go.”
“Hijo de puta,” (son of a whore) Frankie muttered. He made a low sound almost like a growl and you startled. He looked immediately apologetic. “Sorry, baby,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your hairline. It was the first time he’d done anything like that, and you almost froze in place at how nice his lips felt on your skin. “Let’s go.”
Jared scoffed behind you, but you were already turning away. “Fine, man. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you about the town slut when you regret this later.”
You heard Sean start to threaten to throw Jared out so you grabbed Frankie’s arm and dragged him back to the staff area. He immediately gathered you in his arms as soon as you let the break room door fall shut behind you.
“Mierda,” (shit) he breathed, burying his face in your neck. “That’s the type of shit you’re dealing with? I am so sorry baby.” He pulled you in tighter, and you relaxed into his hold. “I promise I can keep it together. Just took me by surprise, how bad it was.”
“Thank you,” you whispered. “I’ll tell you about it. But let’s get out of here first.”
“Hey,” he started, pulling back. “You don’t have to–”
“No, I know,” you interrupted, gathering your stuff. “I want to.”
He nodded and slid his hand into yours as you turned to leave. “Wanna go out the back?” He squeezed your hand gently as he asked.
You sighed and nodded. “Might as well.”
The two of you slipped out the back of the kitchen and turned to walk around the building to your cars. “Follow me home?” You asked nudging him.
Frankie smiled. “You sure?”
“Yes.” You leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. “C’mon.”
Soon enough the two of you were pulling into your complex and walking up to your door. You felt his hand come to rest on the small of your back as you dug for your keys and you leaned back into it for a moment. The way he’d started touching you more today since you agreed to a date was sending your mind spinning. You hoped he’d still want to, after your talk.
“Come in, Frankie.” You invited him in and he followed your lead in removing his shoes before you both dropped onto the couch.
“Wait, sorry, do you want something to drink?” You started to stand again but he stopped you.
“No, I’m fine. Just had plenty of water from a very attentive bartender.” He winked, and you laughed. “C’mere.” He tugged on your hand and you slid closer until you were settled on the cushion next to him, slightly turned towards him. You let yourself relax, leaning sideways against the back of your couch. He looked so warm and broad and comfortable in your home – you wished you felt up to leaning on him instead. But you needed a little bit of space for this.
You sat for a minute, trying to figure out where to start. As if he could sense your hesitation, he reached out and took your hand in his again, and you sighed. “Ok, well. I guess I should explain.”
“Whatever you want to tell me, I’ll listen.” He started to rub the back of your hand with his thumb and you smiled.
“Ok. Here we go.” You drew in a deep breath and tried to let his presence ground you. You stared down at your joined hands as you spoke. “I was dating Chris for almost a year. It went ok, I guess, for a while. But it turns out he’s a massive asshole.” Frankie squeezed your hand. “Yeah, I should have known better. I’ve known him all my life. But he was never mean like some of them.”
“Them?” Frankie asked. You could feel that he was looking at your face, but you couldn’t look away from the way his thumb was caressing your hand.
“The rich kids. The ones whose families have been here since forever, the ones with land and big houses and so on. They were always mean to anyone who wasn’t like them. And I was never like them.” With your free hand you started to idly pick at a stubborn thread that was sticking out of your couch cushion. It refused to budge and you bit your lip.
You sighed. “But he wasn’t mean, back in school. So when he asked me out I gave him a chance. We’d all been away to college and come back. I figured he’d probably grown up some. And it seemed like he had, for a while.” You shrugged. The thread started to wiggle a little and you tugged at it harder. “But he’s not different. He used to bring me to family stuff, and his parents always treated me like shit and he swore he didn’t notice. Then at the end I found out he’d been cheating on me for months, almost the whole relationship. And when I confronted him he caused a scene and flipped it around on me.”
Frankie stiffened and you closed your eyes. “Like a hundred people heard him yell that I’d been cheating on him with his friends, that they all told him it was true. I couldn’t believe it at the time — it was a side of him I’d never seen before.” You laughed to yourself, darkly. “He’s a great actor. And then on my way out of the house his mom accused me of stealing some jewelry — the earrings I was wearing. Which he had given me a gift.” You opened your eyes, finally, and saw that you’d tugged so hard the thread was pulling away from the fabric of the couch, but it looked like it might create a run in the fabric. You knew you should stop tugging on it, but you couldn’t. “But it was enough. Now the rich people in town who all go to the same country club treat me like shit and whisper behind my back. Chris started dating some new girl a few months ago but she’s rich, too.”
Suddenly Frankie’s free hand smoothed over yours, and he gently pulled yours away from where you’d been about to create a hole in the fabric of your couch cushion. He tugged both of your hands into his lap. “What’s up with the guys who come to the bar, then?”
You groaned and finally looked up to meet his eyes. “I have no idea. I can’t figure out if they know he was lying and just decided to protect him, or if they believe him and decided to make my life miserable. Maybe they just hate me for some reason. Whatever it is, I just try to ignore it.”
Frankie frowned, gently, and squeezed both of your hands. “You deserve better.”
You smiled at him. “Thank you. I know.”
He nodded and finally smiled. “Good.” He looked at you for a moment, studying your face. “Thank you for telling me.”
You nodded, not sure what to say. But Frankie continued, “I promise not to lose it on those guys.”
“They’d deserve it,” you laughed as you agreed. “But they’re not worth the trouble.”
Frankie looked thoughtful as he lifted both of your hands to press soft kisses along your knuckles. “Well, hermosa, I’m glad you agreed to go out with me.”
You perked up and tried not to look anxious. “You still want to go out? Are you sure?”
He shot you a look and you laughed a little. “Of course I do, baby.” He leaned a little bit closer and continued, voice low. “I mean it, you deserve better. And I want to give it to you, if you’ll let me. I want to give you everything.”
Your breath caught in your throat. All you could do was nod. He grinned. “Good.”
…
The next night, you were anxious.
Frankie said he’d pick you up at 6pm, so at 5:55pm you were standing nervously behind the front door of your apartment, getting a text pep talk from Laura.
He seems like a good guy. But if he says or does anything weird just text me. I’ll come get you.
You smiled. This was your first date, the first time you’d really dressed up, in six months, and you were nervous. But Laura was right – Frankie seemed like a good guy. You rocked back on your heels as you waited by your door. Maybe this would work out, after all.
Just then, someone knocked, and your smile grew as you flung the door open.
Frankie looked nervous on the other side of it and your breath caught in your throat as you took him in. He had on dark jeans, a button up shirt, and his hair was styled without a hat.
“Frankie, you look–”
“Hermosa, te–”
You both laughed when you talked over each other. Frankie stepped forward to tangle your fingers together.
“This is gorgeous on you, baby.” With his free hand he ran his fingertips down your side and you shivered.
“You’re looking pretty handsome yourself, Frankie.” He blushed in such an adorable way that you wanted to kiss him before you even got out of your apartment. You cleared your throat. “Shall we?”
Frankie nodded and stepped backwards to lead you out of your apartment. He kept his fingers laced with yours as you locked the door and made your way to his car.
“So where are we going?” You asked once you were settled in the passenger seat. Frankie had wanted it to be a surprise, and you wondered what he picked.
“Well, hermosa, I thought you might enjoy getting out of town for a bit.” You looked at him, surprised. He shrugged. “I heard at work that there’s a restaurant in the next town over that’s pretty amazing, thought we could try it. Got a reservation and everything.”
You smiled and reached out to take his hand again. “Sounds perfect, Frankie.”
On the way to the restaurant he updated you on his coworkers’ shenanigans – he usually visited the bar at least weekly and gave you the update then, and you felt a little thrill at the idea that you and Frankie were spending time together outside of where you worked. He wanted to spend time with you. He knew, and it still felt as easy and warm as it ever did with him. You sank into it with a smile.
“I’m really glad you asked me out, Frankie,” you told him in a lull in the conversation. You watched as he blushed again and grinned.
“Me too, baby.” He tugged your hand up to press a kiss to your knuckles, the same way he had the night before. You bit your lip. His lips were so soft and you wondered what they might feel like somewhere else. It sent your head spinning and you took a deep breath. You knew this was only the beginning of the night.
When you arrived, Frankie met you by the passenger door of his truck. He slid his hand around your waist until it came to rest on the small of your back, walking next to you into the restaurant.
“Two for Morales,” he told the host, stepping away from you briefly. You took the opportunity to study the restaurant, since you’d never been. It was all deep, rich tones of green and brown, with dark wood floors and low lighting that flickered like candlelight. The tables were far enough apart to feel cozy and romantic and you smiled a little bit to yourself as you thought about Frankie seeking out a place like this for your date.
The host gestured for you to follow and you started to weave through the restaurant towards a small round booth in the back corner. As you did, though, you heard a voice you recognized.
“What the devil is she doing here?” She wasn’t shouting, but then, she never had to to be heard.
You tried to glance discreetly to your right and felt the blood drain out of your face. Chris’ new girlfriend and a bunch of their friends were seated at a long table near the front windows. You didn’t see Chris himself, thank God, but this wasn’t much better.
Your foot came down funny on your next step. You felt yourself start to stumble and it kicked off a spiral of anxiety inside of you – you were going to hit the ground in the middle of this fancy restaurant, and they would see it, and –
But you barely wobbled before Frankie’s arm slipped around your waist again and supported you, keeping you upright. Somehow you both continued forward as if nothing had happened.
You could hear them whispering behind you as you moved farther into the restaurant and you struggled to take a deep breath. Frankie tightened his arm around you and leaned in. You could feel his lips brush against your ear as he whispered, “fuck ‘em. They don’t deserve even a glance from you, querida.”
He guided you into your both and slid in next to you, and you realized you couldn’t see them from here. Frankie could, but he was only looking at you. You looked back and you felt the tension in your shoulders start to slip away.
You knew what they thought. You knew what they were probably saying, what Chris had told them about you after you broke up. But somehow, for once, it really didn’t matter. They might have been looking at you, but suddenly you couldn’t feel their stares. You had Frankie’s eyes on you, only for you, and that was worth more than anything else. Your spine straightened and you leaned forward to tangle your fingers with his on the table.
“You’re right, Frankie.” You smiled. “There’s only one person I want to look at in here, anyway.”
He grinned and ducked his head. “I know you’ve caught me looking at you at the bar, hermosa.”
You bit your lip. “Maybe. But only ‘cause I was looking back.”
Frankie laughed and lifted your hands to press another kiss to the back of yours. “Well, good. Having your eyes on me is all I’ve wanted.”
You felt your own cheeks heat as his words. You’d been suffering under the unwavering attention of half the town for months, slowly shrinking into yourself even as you tried not to let them get to you. But somehow the attention of this man was doing the exact opposite. You felt like you were glowing under his gaze, like you were emerging out of a long darkness into the sunlight at last.
The rest of dinner felt the same. You lost yourself in the low lights, the warm room, the soft touches, the rumbling sound of Frankie’s voice as he flirted and laughed and whispered in your ear. You felt like you were in your own world with him in the booth as the sounds of the restaurant swirled around you but never quite reached you. The flicker of the soft light across his face captured your eyes and he smiled whenever he caught you looking at his mouth.
By the time you fought briefly over the check (Frankie won, but only because you secured a promise that you would pay for the next one) you felt like you were floating. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so wanted. You wanted to sink into Frankie and never come out.
He stood first and offered his hand as you stood from the table. You smiled up at him and took it. As he slipped his hand around your waist again you finally glanced back towards the front of the restaurant. You realized you’d completely forgotten they were there, but you remembered suddenly when you saw them again. They hadn’t left.
But you felt different than you had before. Frankie’s arm pulled you in and he started to walk towards the door. You looked at him and smiled, and felt yourself sink back into the connection the two of you had started to build over dinner.
They might as well look, you thought as you walked past their table. You looked at Frankie again. I’d look at us, too.
You floated out the door and through the parking lot towards his car. You reached for the door handle but he stopped you, turning you around and crowding you back against the passenger door.
Frankie’s eyes were dark and intent and you felt a shiver climb up your spine.
“Can I kiss you, hermosa?” He whispered into the air between you and you could have sworn you saw his words in the reflections of the lights and the stars above your head.
“Yes, Frankie,” you breathed. “Please–”
He leaned in and finally pressed his lips to yours, and you heard yourself moan into the kiss. His lips were soft as they pressed against yours, sending every thought and worry flying out of your head. You opened for him and he took the invitation, running his tongue lightly over your bottom lip. You gasped as he deepened the kiss.
After a few moments he broke away to press a line of kisses down your jaw and neck until his face was buried in your shoulder. “Fuck, hermosa,” he was breathing hard and you realized suddenly that you were, too. “You feel so good in my arms.” He kissed you again, on the spot where your neck sloped into your shoulder, and you shivered. “You looked so hot walking past those assholes without so much as sparing them a glance, you know that?”
You grinned up at the sky and tightened your hold around his neck. “I was just looking at you, Frankie.” You weren’t nervous anymore. You knew what you wanted. “Come home with me?”
He whipped his head up to stare at you. “Are you sure? I don’t– we don’t have to rush anything, baby.”
You nodded, warmed by his concern. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” You watched the grin take over his face, slow and sinful.
“Me too, baby. I’d like nothing more than to go home with you,” he agreed, before kissing you again.
“Then take me home, Frankie,” you mumbled against his mouth. He groaned and pulled away to do just that.
Your ride home was full of the best kind of tension. Frankie’s hand came to rest on your thigh and you resisted the urge to scoot it higher up your leg, holding it there under yours. You could feel the tension in his muscles as he held himself still.
By the time you reached your apartment you could have sworn you were both vibrating with the need to touch.
As you unlocked your apartment door, Frankie stepped up behind you, just like he had the night before. This time he closed the distance and crowded up against your back, snaking his arms around your waist. You leaned back into him, distracted, until he lifted one hand to guide yours with the key towards the door.
You felt him huff a laugh against your neck. “Let’s get inside, querida. We’ve got things to do.”
You laughed, charmed, as you finally opened your door. “Is that so?” You turned to look at him and his expression made something in your chest clench.
“It is,” he agreed, stepping towards you and closing the door behind him. He turned the lock and stepped forward again to pull you into his arms. “Hi, baby,” he whispered against your mouth, and you smiled as he kissed you.
Frankie backed you into the wall by your door and you let your keys drop from your hands as you raised them to bury your fingers in his hair. His hands framed your face, flat on the wall on either side of your head as he leaned in. The kiss suddenly went from soft to searing as his body pressed yours into the wall. You could feel him everywhere, surrounding you, all down your front. You became suddenly aware of the hard length of his cock pressing against your hip and you gasped.
He kissed you again but then moved away to scrape his teeth lightly down your neck. He started worrying a mark on your neck under your ear, and you sighed.
“Frankie,” you breathed, tugging at his hair to bring his mouth back to yours.
“Hmm?” He hummed into your mouth.
You reached back and tugged at one of his arms. “Touch me, Frankie.”
He was so close to you you could feel him shudder in response. “Is that what you want, bebita?” You nodded and felt him smile against your cheek. He moved his right hand from the wall to your side, squeezing your hip. “Where do you want me to touch you? Here?” He teased his fingertips down your hip. You shook your head.
“No? Here, then?” He leaned his weight on his left hand, using his right to trace idle designs up your torso until his fingertips came to rest just under your breast. Your breath hitched.
“Hmm, no, I don’t think so. I think you want something else.” Frankie slipped his hand back down your chest until his fingertips brushed over your core through your clothes. He turned his hand and cupped you gently. With his lips pressed to your ear, he whispered, “here?”
You gasped and nodded. “Yes, Frankie, yes—”
“Shhh,” he pressed kisses to your cheek and the corner of your lips. He gripped you firmly with his hand and you squirmed. “I told you, baby. I want to give you everything.”
You closed your eyes against the feelings he was drawing out of you, overwhelmed at his words.
He kissed you again, quickly, but pressed his forehead to yours right after, meeting your eyes.
“Can I put my mouth on you, bebita?” His voice was deep and warm and it melted down your spine.
Your hands flew up to grasp at his shirt. “Frankie, you–”
“I love it,” he murmured, looking right into your eyes. “I’ve been thinking about it. Will you let me?”
You started to smile. “Let you? Frankie, please.”
He grinned and started tugging at your clothes gently. “C’mon, bebita. Quiero verte.” (I want to see you)
You soon found yourself leaning back against the wall of your hallway, completely bare from the waist down. Frankie dropped to his knees before you, mouth open, eyes wide.
“Fuck,” he whispered, crawling forward. “You are so fucking beautiful.” You felt the heat rise in your cheeks at his words and resisted the urge to wrap your arms around yourself.
Frankie settled between your knees and smiled up at you. He winked. “Open up, bebita.” He lifted your left leg over his shoulder and you steadied yourself against the wall. “I won’t let you fall.” Frankie moved closer until he was framing you in place with his shoulders. He sucked in a sharp breath. You bit your lip.
“Qué cosita más linda,” (what a pretty little thing) he murmured, leaning forwards. He placed his left forearm over your hips like a bar and pressed a gentle kiss right above your clit. You sighed and slid your hands into his hair.
“That’s right, bebita.” His lips moved against you when he spoke and you shivered. “Relax. Let me take care of you.”
You felt his fingers brush along your slit and then press you open. HIs tongue followed right behind as he teased you, licking from your entrance to your clit. You felt boneless, suddenly worried your leg wouldn’t hold you up. But he was pressing you firmly into the wall with his shoulders and his arm. You could see his muscles working in his shoulders and back and it made your head swim.
He flattened his tongue and licked again and you squirmed. He teased the tip of his tongue around your clit and your hips thrust forward before you could stop them.
“Hey,” Frankie said your name and you blinked and looked down at him. You could see his eyes and the bridge of his nose and you felt your heart rate pick up at the sight of him between your knees like this. “That’s good, baby. Ride my face.”
“Frankie–” you started, breathless.
He moved his arm higher so that your hips could move more easily and leaned forward to slip his tongue through your folds again. You thrust your hips forward and he made an encouraging noise.
You closed your eyes and let your head fall back against the wall. Frankie teased around your entrance with his fingertips as his tongue worked a slow rhythm on your clit, and on your next thrust forward his finger slipped inside. You gasped and you felt him smile against you. You clutched at his hair, suddenly much overwhelmed.
“Yes, Frankie–” you moaned, and he pressed a second finger inside, twisting both in a way that made you chase them with your hips when he pulled them back. His tongue was moving mercilessly over your clit and you felt it, starting to build at the base of your spine. With every thrust of your hips and curl of his fingers and slide of his tongue he was working you closer and closer, relentlessly driving you upwards towards your peak. You couldn’t catch your breath, you could only do as he asked and clutch at his hair as you ground your hips forward to ride his face.
You chased the feeling climbing up your spine and he urged you on with his fingers and his mouth. On your next thrust, Frankie closed his lips around your clit and sucked, gently, as his fingers thrust forward again, and you were there.
You cried out as you curled over him, pressing his head into you with your grip in his hair, holding him there as you fell over the edge. His left arm curled around your back and urged you forward, holding you to him as he opened his mouth wide against your pussy. You quivered around his fingers, locked together as he worked you through it with his tongue.
“Fuck,” you choked out as you felt your leg start to give. Frankie caught you by the waist, slipping your leg off of his shoulder and easing you to the floor in front of him. Your eyes met, on the same level again, and your eyebrows raised as you took him in. His face was red and wet and his lips were puffy. His expression was both delighted and wrecked. He was grinning.
“You taste so fucking good, baby.” You gasped as he leaned in and pressed his wet mouth to your neck. He left a trail of moisture behind as he kissed a path up behind your ear. “Better than I ever imagined. I could spend all night between your legs and never get tired.”
You laughed, slipping your arms around his neck as he leaned over you. “Never?” you teased, and he nodded.
“Can I do that again?” He pulled back and looked down at your pussy and your legs twitched.
Again? You shook your head. “You can do that anytime, Frankie. But right now I want your cock inside me.”
His eyes darted back to meet yours and his grin turned into a smirk. “Oh yeah?” He leaned in to kiss you and you smiled.
“Yeah, Frankie. Take me to bed.”
He stood and put out his hands to guide you to your feet. “Show me the way, querida.”
He followed closely behind you as you walked to your bedroom, spinning you around the moment you crossed the threshold. He pulled you into another kiss as he walked you carefully backwards towards your bed.
You ran your hands down his sides and realized he was still wearing all of his clothes. “Take these off, Frankie,” you murmured as you undid the button on his pants. He unbuttoned his shirt as you slid his pants down over his hips, and soon he was standing in front of you completely bare. Your eyes widened as you took him in. He was all golden skin and soft muscles – the kind where you knew he was strong without so much definition, with a soft midsection that you wanted to rest your head against like a pillow. You stepped forward and pressed your body against his and found he felt as soft and warm as he looked.
As your naked body came into contact with his, his breath caught and you felt it. “Fuck, hermosa,” he murmured as his hands slid over your back. “You feel so fucking amazing.”
You wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed kissed down the line of his collarbone. “So do you, Frankie.”
As he pulled you in, you felt his cock standing proudly against his stomach. It was hard between your bodies and you squirmed, tilting your hips forward in a vain attempt to feel it against you.
He pressed his smile to your hairline. “‘S that what you want, bebita?”
You nodded, and he walked you back two steps towards the bed without releasing you from his embrace. His cock shifted between you and you sighed.
“Lie down,” he murmured, guiding you onto the bed. You scooted back and he followed, crawling over you until he was perched above you on his hands and knees. “You look good under me, baby.”
“You look good over me, Frankie.” You smiled and reached up to tug him down for a kiss.
He lowered his body to yours slowly and you gasped as you felt his cock come to rest against your hip. You moved your hips, but he continued forward and to the side, coming to rest against you on the bed. “Not yet, bebita. Need to get you ready first.” You frowned and he smiled at you. “Don’t want to hurt you.”
He trailed his fingertips down your chest and stomach until he was teasing at your slit again.
“I’m ready, Frankie,” you insisted, reaching down to grip his cock in one hand. He was big. “You just fingered me by my front door, remember?” You raised your eyebrows at him and pumped his cock in your hand. His hips stuttered forward and you grinned.
He sighed and shook his head at you. “Let me just make sure.” He leaned down to kiss you as his fingers slipped inside you again, two this time, and you opened your legs to give him more room.
“Hmm,” he hummed as he twisted his fingers inside of you. “You were right, bebita. Ya estás mojada.” (you’re already wet) He kissed you as he slipped another finger inside and you arched your back at the sensation.
“Frankie–” you started, but he interrupted you with another kiss. You could feel how wet you were around his fingers and you wanted more.
“¿Estás lista, bebita?” (are you ready, baby?)
You nodded and reached towards your nightstand and the condoms you knew were inside the drawer. You tried not to let out the whine you could feel at the back of your throat when he pulled his fingers from you gently. He reached over you and grabbed a condom, making quick work of slipping it on.
“C’mere,” he murmured, lifting your leg until it was wrapped around his waist. He bent your other knee and extended it to the side on the bed. You realized you were completely open to him, pussy on display. “Just like that. Fuck, you look gorgeous like this.”
You felt your cheeks heat and looked down to see what he was looking at. Your pussy was open, spread wide, and glistening with your arousal. His cock was mere inches away as he held his hips above yours. You swallowed hard.
“Hey, look at me.”
You looked up at his face and found him smiling softly at you. He tilted his hips forward and you felt the head of his cock nudge against your clit. You sucked in a sharp breath.
He nodded. “That feels so fucking good, baby.” You blinked, trying not to close your eyes. You wanted to see everything.
He shifted his hips until the head of his cock notched against your entrance, and you both gasped. “Ay, mira,” (look) he demanded, and you looked down to watch as the head of his cock pressed inside of you. Your eyes fluttered closed, you couldn’t help it, and you moaned.
“That’s right.” He pressed inside and you felt every inch of his cock as you stretched around him. “You’re taking me so fucking well. You feel so amazing.” He bottomed out and groaned. “Fuck.”
You realized you’d tangled your fingers in his hair, and you tried to tug him down into a kiss. He resisted long enough to pull back out, and the glide of him inside you was devastating.
On the next thrust, he leaned down to capture your mouth with his.
He kissed you as he established a slow, overwhelming rhythm that stole your breath away. You couldn’t feel anything but Frankie, inside you and all around you. Your head spun as you tried to keep up with the movements of his hips and the slide of his mouth against yours.
After a few moments he twisted, reaching around to tuck your leg tighter around his waist. When he did his cock slid in at a new angle that was just right and you gasped.
“¿Así?” (like that?) he breathed. “Right there?”
You nodded, and held him tight against you. “Yes, Frankie,” you sighed. He thrust forward again and your next breath felt like a sob. You could feel it building inside you again, pooling at the base of your spine and tingling down your arms and legs.
“C’mon, baby,” he murmured into your ear. “Let me see you come again. So fucking beautiful when you come.” He pressed a kiss to your neck and you held his head there with your grip in his hair. He reached down to press his thumb to your clit and you gasped. “Dámelo.” (give it to me)
On his next thrust, you did. You felt your pussy tighten around him as you sobbed out his name. You felt like the bed was spinning away beneath you while you were struck, unable to do anything but arch your back and scream Frankie’s name.
He suddenly picked up the pace, and you tugged on his hair to lift his head. You wanted to see his face when he came.
It was beautiful.
His eyes locked on yours as his mouth hung open, and you watched as his orgasm took him. After only a moment he slumped forward, slightly crushing you, and started pressing kisses anywhere he could reach. You giggled at the brush of his mustache against your skin..
“Fuck, hermosa,” he murmured against your skin. “Only our first time, and it was that fucking amazing?” He shook his head and glanced up at you, eyes playful. “Don’t know how we’ll survive getting any better at this.”
You laughed and kissed the corner of his smirk. He turned his head to kiss you back, gently, and you sighed into it.
“Was it as good as you hoped?” You couldn’t help but feel nervous. It had been so long since you’d had this kind of intimacy with someone, and the last one had ended so badly. But Frankie had been carefully taking care of all of your worries and insecurities one-by-one since you’d met, and this time was no different.
“Good?!” Frankie sounded incredulous as he cupped your cheek in his hand. “Baby, it was better. Better than I could have imagined.” He kissed you again, and you squirmed when you felt his soft cock shift, still inside you.
You smiled. “Alright, Frankie, let’s get cleaned up.” He nodded and pulled carefully out of you before heading to the bathroom. He looked back over his shoulder at you and you took a moment to admire his ass and the curve of his spine. “Can I stay? I don’t want to wear out my welcome, but–”
“Of course.” You cut him off. “I want you here.” He grinned and ducked his head.
After a few moments of cleaning up, you found yourself back in bed with Frankie. He had on only his briefs, and you tugged on an old, oversized t-shirt and nothing else. Frankie crowded up behind you in the bed.
“Thank you for going out with me tonight, baby.” He murmured into your neck as he wrapped his arm around your waist, spooning you.
You smiled. “Want to go out again tomorrow?”
You felt him grin against your neck. “Yes, how about tomorrow morning for brunch and then dinner and then, oh, every day this week. As a start.”
You laughed as he tugged you closer. “Ok, Frankie.”
He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your neck. “I mean it, baby. This is just the start.”
As you closed your eyes, half asleep, you thought to yourself that you’d never bother paying attention to them again.
Not when you had Frankie all to yourself.
...
a/n: let me know what you think? 🧡
tag list and some Frankie fans who I think might be interested: @jeewrites @islacharlotte @iknowisoundcrazy @beardedjoel @undercoverpena @goodwithcheese
#frankie morales x reader smut#frankie morales x you#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x f!reader#frankie morales smut#frankie catfish morales#francisco morales x reader#triple frontier fic#frankie morales fanfiction#x reader#here we go#ts drabble challenge
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Cry for the Moon
| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |
Pairing: Zuko x firebender!reader
Important Notes: I don’t think there is any use of she/her in this chapter but for future chapters, please don’t be surprised if other characters refer to the reader as she/her. And just like any other Fire Nation citizen, the reader has amber eyes. Other than that, I have given my best to avoid any further details about the reader but constructive criticism is always welcome!
Warnings: none
A/N: I am looking forward to your feedback on this very first chapter, personally the first ones are the hardest :) if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!
Taglist: @annonymatic @yoongiesstar @lost-inthe-v0id @lokigodofmyheart
Credits to @lost-inthe-v0id for the main idea behind the story
“This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life,” you spoke with a low voice as your hands reached the necklace Zuko was holding. It was past midnight, and you two had to be sleeping but – as always – you decided to sneak out to lay under the moonlight, enjoying the peace the night brought to the palace. “Did you do it yourself?”
Zuko nodded in a proud manner. “I have always loved the way the moonlight reflected from your amber eyes,” his words made you turn your gaze away, feeling heat rushing to your face. “So I wanted to capture that beautiful light in this amber stone as well.”
Apparently, he had somehow managed to melt the amber, place some tiny silver pieces which looked like stars, and then form the amber in a crescent moon.
“Do you want me to help you put it on?”
You nodded, gathering your hair on your left shoulder. “I love it,” you spoke as you laid your left hand on the necklace, your eyes finding Zuko’s. “Thank you.”
Slowly, Zuko’s left hand found your right one, which was resting on the grass, and held it tight. “Once I become the Fire Lord and make you my Fire Lady, I will gift you the finest of jewels.”
A small smile formed on your lips, he was always so eager to show his love – you adored it. “That sounds lovely,” your left hand was still on the necklace as you spoke. “But I cannot imagine a better gift than this.” Zuko’s face lit up almost immediately. “Every time I look at it, I will remember how lucky we are to have each other.”
Zuko left an innocent kiss on your forehead, his lips were warm against your skin. “You are my favourite person in this world.”
Waves crashing against the ship woke you up from the dream – a memory from the life of a different person. Unconsciously, you moved your left hand to your neck, only to find emptiness there. There was no necklace. There hasn’t been a necklace for over three years.
Your mind was playing tricks on you now that you knew it was only a matter of time before you saw the Banished Prince.
Realising that sleep was not going to be easy to find, you wrapped yourself in your red gown and went outside, only to find the Princess there on the front deck. The cold wind of the ocean was causing you to use your breath of fire as you walked towards her.
Azula didn’t even look to see the owner of the footsteps, she could recognise you anytime. “Having trouble sleeping?” She asked, but it was rather a rhetorical question.
You nodded as you stood next to her, your hands rested on the railings. “Sometimes I feel like my dreams hate me,” you muttered. “What’s your excuse? Please don’t tell me you have been up all night, again.”
The Princess simply shrugged; her amber eyes were fixed on the waves. You heaved a sigh.
“Azula, darling, even you need to sleep once in a while.” You spoke with a tender voice, which caused Azula to look at you. “Do you really want your failure of a brother to see a slipping version of yourself just because you were too stubborn to admit that you were sleepy?”
“But I am not done calculating all the possible scenarios for tomorrow,” she spoke with a low voice that wanted to sound stubborn but in the end, she was just tired. “I must be ready for anything.”
Gently, you wrapped your left arm around Azula’s waist. Growing up together – and especially after Zuko was banished – you two had developed a special bond, perhaps such that Azula hadn’t shared with anyone before. Not even with her mother.
“Sleep deprived Azula won’t have the same capacity as a well-rested Azula – we have talked about this before.” You were slowly making both of you walk inside. “Your body needs to rest, your mind as well. With a crystal-clear mind, you will finish your calculations in no time tomorrow, I am sure of it.”
She would never admit it, but Azula loved the way you had this soft spot for her – it was too easy to read it from her eyes if one had known her long enough.
“Plus, sleep deprivation is bad for your skin – you will get dark rings under your eyes. Nobody wants that.”
Azula let out a chuckle as you stopped in front of her chambers. “You do know how to get to me.”
You let her waist go as you adjusted your red gown. “As long as you allow me to, Princess.” Your voice carried the hints of affection, sympathy, and loyalty. “I intend to be there to get to you, to assist you, and to kill for you, when you need me to.”
The edge of Azula’s lips curled upwards upon hearing you. “Allow yourself to rest,” she spoke as she walked into her chamber. “I can see that having to see Zuzu after all these years is starting to trouble you – I need you to bury the ghosts from the past.”
“We both know that the ghosts have all been buried long ago,” you said before heading back to your room. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be standing here with you today.”
At least, that was what you had believed for the past three years – that all the flames from the past were snuffed out – until Azula visited you in your chambers a week ago.
[Flashback]
You giggled as you ran your fingers through Shuzi’s smooth, dark hair; his head was rested on your lap as he laid on your bed. It had been a peaceful morning with Shuzi surprising you with breakfast in bed – apparently, he had been in the kitchens, preparing your breakfast on his own, declining any kind of help offered by the servants.
“Do you have any plans for today?” Shuzi asked, his amber eyes wandering on your face.
“You know that I need to keep up with learning the languages,” you responded as your hand moved down to cup his face. “And I have this family dinner later today.”
Shuzi pouted in a playful way. “Won’t I get to see my girlfriend for the rest of the day?” he spoke imitating a baby’s voice, which caused you to giggle once again. “That’s too long!”
Before you could lean in and leave a small kiss on his nose, the doors to your chambers were opened to reveal Azula standing outside. She was already in her royal uniforms but without the armour – compared to the sleeping robes you still wore. Which made you realise that you hadn’t even combed your hair.
“Aw, adorable,” Azula spoke with a rather soft tone which sounded a bit too sarcastic and caused Shuzi you sit up straight. “Shuzi, give us a moment.”
Of course, just like everyone else in the Fire Nation, Shuzi wouldn’t dare make the Princess repeat herself. Hence, he quickly stood up, gathered his stuff, placed a quick kiss on your lips and left your chambers. As the servants closed the doors, you raised a questioning eyebrow at Azula.
“He is not a puppy, you know.”
Azula made herself comfortable on your couch while watching you walk towards the table to pour yourself some tea – it was still warm enough. “Well, he certainly allows himself to be used as one.” She responded, causing you to heave an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, please – only a fool could miss the way you get him to do everything for you.” Azula crossed her right leg over the left one. “A little bit girlish coquetry, a little bit kissing and congratulations! You get the finest top knot pin with rubies and black diamonds.”
Holding the tea with your both hands, you turned back to face Azula, the eyebrow still arched. “Azula, there is no need to be jealous over something so small – you are the princess, you can literally get anything you want at any time.”
“Me? Jealous?” Azula let out her well-known, condescending laughter. “You have said it yourself – I am the Princess. There isn’t possibly a person in this world that I could ever be jealous of.”
Once again, you heaved a sigh – Azula knew very well that you could see through her almost all the time for you knew her way too well. However, at moments like this, she would show the Ozai in herself by pretending that the deep connection you shared didn’t even exist.
Sometimes, you tended to get mad at her for such behaviour, but you tried to remind yourself why Azula acted the way she did and how you could heal her – and it wasn’t by approaching her the same horrible way Ozai had been doing for all these years.
“Azula..?”
The Princess brushed you off and you decided not to push further, you would probably have more private time with her after the day was over. “Anyways, I have some exceptionally important news for you.”
You took a long sip from your tea as you leant the table behind you. “I am all ears.”
“Father has assigned me a crucial task after the recent outrageous failure in the North,” Azula began explaining and you simply nodded – not that you believed the failure to be outrageous but to signal her to continue.
The moment you had heard about the plans to siege the Northern Watertribe from your father, you had known it was not going to work out the way Ozai had fashioned it to. There was a reason why the North hadn’t even received a single blow in the last hundred years.
Azula slowly stood up. “I am to stop Zuzu and Uncle from further disgracing my family. Father wants me to capture them and bring back as prisoners of the Fire Nation.”
“Will you be sailing to Earth Kingdom, then?” You asked with a curious look in your amber eyes.
“We will be sailing to Earth Kingdom.” Azula corrected you with a smirk on her lips. “I want you to come with me on this mission.”
The teacup between your hands fell down onto the ground, breaking into million pieces.
[Flashback ends]
Sleep hadn’t been eager to pull you into its soothing embrace that night. Before going on to this mission with Azula, your only concern had been whether you would miss Shuzi or not – well, you two hadn’t really spent several days apart ever since you got together. You being a noble resident in the Royal Palace due to your father’s military work and Shuzi’s family being the Fire Lord’s foremost advisors, you two could easily spend any night together at your chambers.
However, instead of missing Shuzi’s arms wrapped around your body at night, you had found yourself missing the peaceful sleep which wasn’t haunted by the ghosts from your past. It disturbed you greatly that even the anticipation of getting to see Zuko after three long years was starting to disrupt everything you had built since he was gone.
It hadn’t been easy to rebuild – no, it had been the most painful thing you had ever done in your sixteen years of life and you certainly did not intend to let the Banished Prince burn your whole world to ashes.
Not this time.
#prince zuko#atla zuko#zuko x reader#the last airbender#avatar the last airbender#princess azula#zuko#zuko x oc
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Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 6
Hey, all! This story is finally picking up and we meet Eddie for the first time.
This is an extra long chapter because I wanted to have the gala all in one chapter instead of splitting it up.
@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
****
Steve woke up to his best friend having planned the perfect date with Vickie. Today was already looking up.
“I told you she would say yes,” he told Robin smugly as he poured himself some orange juice.
Robin waved her hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. Mr Smarty Pants over there.”
Steve wiggled his ass at her and then sat down on the sofa next to her.
“So what’s on my schedule for next week?’
Robin pulled up his schedule again and hummed. “Looks like all you have is next Saturday; a charity gala for the arts on the arm of Senator Derek Lombard.”
“He’s always nice,” Steve said. “A little hard of hearing most of the time, but always just wants someone pretty to hang off his every word.”
“So an easy night for you then,” Robin said.
He hummed his agreement. “So what’s all that the event is about? Can I use it to network? Or will it be all politicians with sticks up their asses?”
Robin pulled up the event on her tablet. “Looks like it’s a fundraiser for putting music in poor neighborhoods as a way to combat gang joining and shit like that.”
Steve sighed. “Sounds like my worst nightmare. Classical music sounds like noise to me most of the time. It always puts me to sleep.”
“Then you’ll like this,” she said, scrolling through the list of guests. “The charity is the pet project of Corroded Coffin frontman, Eddie Munson. Apparently he was ‘trailer trash’, his words, and got out of the slums through the power of metal and rock music.”
Steve straightened up. “Shit. Is that that band that Dustin loves?”
Robin tapped something on her tablet and scrolled a bit. “Yep!” she chirped happily. “He is going to be so jealous when he hears you might get to meet him.”
He ran his tongue over his top row of teeth thoughtfully. “Yeah, okay. This sounding more interesting.” He tapped his lips. “If it’s his charity then it will likely have younger alphas there that I can network and get on my client list.”
“Yeah,” Robin agreed. “Especially rockstars. They tend to just hop in bed with any willing omega or beta if an omega can’t be found to service their ruts.”
Steve licked his lips. “Bring over a small stack of business cards to take with me. Also does Senator Lombard have a style of clothes he wants me to wear?”
Robin skipped back to his schedule and pulled up the appointment. “Uh... it looks like he doesn’t have a preference just something ‘elegant’.”
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Steve asked with a glimmer in his eye.
“If I am you might need to keep some heart medication on standby,” she said with glee.
“Oh good,” he grinned. “We are thinking of the same thing, then.”
****
Steve didn’t often wear dresses because he hated playing into the stereotype of male omegas being the women of the secondary genders. But this was his favorite outfit bar none.
It was a backless gold dress with a low cut front in a drape that showed off his bare chest. He kept himself as shaven as he was in high school on the swim team. Something that Tommy mocked him mercilessly for. But it made getting in and out of clothes easier, so Tommy could suck it.
The dress went all the way to his ankles and was split up the middle of each leg to show off his toned thighs. He wore jeweled open-toed kitten heels with a Grecian style strap down the middle. He wore a bangle on his left wrist and a charm bracelet on his right. The necklace and earrings matched, a wide gold setting with a single diamond in the center. And then to crown the whole thing off, he had diamonds glued to the strands of his hair so when he moved the light would catch the diamond and shimmer just so.
Senator Lombard was speechless when Steve walked down to the lobby of the hotel he was picked up from. Again for his safety that no one knew where he lived.
In his hand was matching gold clutch and over his shoulders in liquid waves a shimmering gold shawl.
“I am the luckiest man tonight,” Senator Lombard whispered as he took Steve’s open hand to guide him the rest of the way down the stairs.
“You flatter me, Senator,” Steve replied demurely looking up at the alpha through his eyelashes.
“And you honor me with your presence.”
Steve blushed and allowed himself to be led out to the waiting limo.
****
Senator Lombard was the talk and envy of a lot of people at the gala. Women hated the way Steve looked better in his dress then they did in theirs. The men were seething jealousy that Steve wasn’t on their arm.
The senator was a distinguished older gentleman of the old style of politics. Calm and collected in public, a conniving, calculated negotiator behind closed doors.
And he showed that strength here. Everyone was tripping over themselves to introduce themselves to him just for the pleasure of being in Steve’s company.
They had to know how Senator Lombard could afford such beauty and grace, so much so that Steve had run out of business cards before the appetizer was even brought out.
The only ones that stayed on the outskirts of Senator Lombard’s aura of influence was the members of Corroded Coffin.
They were dressed like the rockers they were. Lots of black clothes, jewelry, and eyeliner. Their tattoos and piercing further pushed them outside of the rest of the people at the gala.
People who despite being invited by the band were giving them a wide berth. Which was ridiculous in Steve’s opinion. One thing you must never be: is rude to the host.
Steve broke off from the senator and turned to make his way toward his hosts when there was gentle tap on his shoulder.
He turned around to see the prettiest of the band standing in front of him. He had long dark curls, deep soulful brown eyes, and dimples for days. Steve was smitten.
“You dropped this,” the man said, holding out his hand.
Steve opened his hand and a diamond dropped into it. He tucked his clutch under his arm and touched his hair. Sure enough one of his diamonds was missing.
“Thank you!” Steve cooed. “I don’t want to lose that!”
The man smiled and the dimples became more pronounced and Steve was close to swooning.
“I’m Eddie,” he said. “Eddie Munson. And who might you be, darlin’?”
Steve blushed. “Steve Harrington.”
Eddie’s eyebrows twitched upward. “A Starcourt escort in my house. I’m honored.”
Steve looked around the large foyer. “This is your place? It’s beautiful.”
Eddie smiled deeper. “Thank you. Now where were you off to just now?”
Steve giggled. “On my way to see you, actually. I’m not a fan of people being rude to the hosts. Regardless of who the hosts are.”
“Even if you disagree with their beliefs?” Eddie asked, a glint of mischief in his eye.
“I don’t go to those,” Steve replied with a wink.
Eddie’s eyebrows went up. “I wasn’t aware you had that much control over your clientele.”
“Maybe not to start with,” he said with a shrug. “But as one of my friends pointed out recently, when you’re one of the top ten paid escorts you have a lot more leeway.”
Eddie blinked those long eyelashes and Steve was captivated. “That’s fair. And you deemed my little shindig as worthy? I’m doubly honored then.”
“Well...” Steve murmured tilting his head to the side thoughtfully, “more like my handler, Robin. But she knows what I like.”
“And you like heavy metal?” Eddie asked, amused.
“More like good causes and deserving people.”
A waiter passed by and Eddie grabbed two champagne glasses from the man’s tray. He held one out to Steve.
“Oh,” he murmured. His hands were occupied. He hurried to put the diamond into his clutch and tucked the clutch back under his arm. He then took the drink. “Thank you.”
“That dress suits you,” Eddie said, licking his lips slowly.
Steve ducked his head a blushed. “Thank you. It’s my favorite dress.”
Eddie smirked. “I didn’t know you were allowed to wear the same outfit more than once.”
Steve threw back his head and laughed. “Not normally, no. But the key is to change up the accessories and chose a different setting. The last time I wore this dress was for dinner with a client. Some quiet upscale restaurant where privacy is key.”
Eddie looked up and down Steve’s body. “You certainly fill it well.”
Steve smiled. “It’s more fun to get out of.”
Eddie nearly choked as he was taking a drink of champagne when Steve said that. Steve rubbed his back soothingly as if he wasn’t the one that caused the distress in the first place.
Steve tapped the back of his neck. “There’s a little clasp right here. Just unhook and dress just slides right off.”
Eddie’s eyes went wide and Steve could tell he was imagining it.
“Escorts are great for all sorts of things. Dinner with family you want to impress. Casual conversations and movies nights for the rich and the lonely. Arm candy for charity events like this one. Not all my clients are in it for the sex.” Steve patted Eddie’s arm and then down the rest of his champagne. He put his glass on the tray of a passing waiter and went back to Senator Lombard with a cheerful wave over his shoulder.
****
Jeff came up and clamped a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “That was the most embarrassing display I’ve ever seen. If this was a Looney Tune, your tongue would be dragging on the floor, man.”
Eddie pushed his friend playfully. “Shut it, Jeffey.”
“No, seriously, man,” Jeff said. “I haven’t seen you get that tongue tied with someone you were interested in since we got our first record deal.”
Eddie sighed. “I really should have known better than to come to a gun fight with a knife.”
Jeff laughed. “Yeah, man. Escorts are trained socializers. You didn’t have a chance.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen anymore beautiful then him in my life,” Eddie murmured. “And I’ve dated rock goddesses, super models, and A-list actors and actresses.”
Jeff hummed. “He’s certainly something, that’s for sure.”
“God,” Eddie huffed. “He even gave an in with hiring his services if I wanted and all I could do was stare at him slack jawed and stupid.”
Jeff pulled out his phone and began scrolling through it. “Well according to Starcourt’s website they offer all sorts of services. Gang bangs, threesomes, roleplays, rut servicing. You could throw a dart at a dartboard and each section would be a different service they offer.”
Eddie bit his lip. “Fuck, there is no way they’d let him service my ruts. I’m a blocker buster.”
Jeff winced. “Yeeeaaah. The last time you spent your rut with someone, they went into heat almost immediately. A fun time to be had, sure. But that guy could have gotten pregnant and you would have been on the hook for life.”
Eddie grimaced. “It wasn’t that fun if I’m honest.”
“They would absolutely whisk him away the second he even scented wrong.”
He nodded. “Looks like all I can do is dream and maybe beg to see if they’ll let me take him out to dinner.”
Jeff just shook his head. His friend was hopeless.
****
To say Steve felt smug would be an understatement. Not only did his little interaction with Eddie Munson fluster the alpha, but it spurred on everyone else to stop treating their hosts like they had the plague.
Suddenly there was a sea between him and Eddie and for now that was fine. It had been a long time since an alpha’s scent overwhelmed his senses.
Eddie’s scent was warm like cardamon and cinnamon. Like a hot drink on a cold winter’s day. Steve felt engulfed by it. It took every ounce of will power and training not drop to his knees right then and there. His actual client be damned.
But he managed to remain on his feet and walk away without Eddie knowing how close Steve had come to breaking his composure.
Senator Lombard kept a hand on Steve’s waist after that. Steve was sure he could smell the way Steve’s scent when he came back was strong and wild.
The senator didn’t know who had caused Steve’s scent to react that way, but he wasn’t going to take any chances that Steve might be swept off his feet.
Steve spent a good portion of the rest of the night, rubbing his nose along Senator Lombard’s scent gland to calm him down. Every time Steve would laugh at another alpha’s joke or talk a little too cheerfully to another omega, the senator’s scent would turn sour and bitter. And Steve would have to start the soothing process all over again.
It was starting to get annoying and Steve was seriously thinking of putting the alpha on his black list for it. The fact that Steve came back should have been all the assurance the alpha needed that whoever had got Steve hot under the collar that they weren’t enough to keep his interest. But no. Steve was beginning to suspect that he was just a bitter old man.
Steve was given a moment’s reprieve when the senator was pulled aside by another senator that wanted to talk about co-sponsoring a bill on the Hill.
“God,” the omega woman Steve was talking to said. “I couldn’t imagine doing what you do. The heavy duty scent blockers, the spending your heats alone, the birth control. God the birth control alone must cost a fortune.”
Steve gave an awkward laugh. “Um, no. Omegas at Starcourt are infertile. They have to be, not just for the protection of the omega but for the alpha clients, too. Can’t have an escort blackmailing important alphas that their pup might be theirs.”
The woman pouted. “That’s so sad. Have you thought about adopting?”
Steve’s smile stayed on his face, but inside he died just a little. “I’d have to find an alpha willing to bond me first.” He said it teasingly, but he knew it was hopeless.
“A pretty thing like you?” the woman cooed. “The right alpha willing be baying for the chance to sweep you off your feet. Just give it a couple of years. You’re still in your prime. Enjoy it!”
Steve’s smile slid into something more real. He was grateful that she didn’t pity him and told him he still had time. Because she was right it. He did have time. There was no need to rush off and get bonded. He had the glittering lights, the fancy clothes, and rich food to enjoy while he was still young.
Too soon the senator had returned and pulled him away from the omega. Steve waved at her and smiled. He would later learn that she was Representative Jim Hopper’s second omega, Joyce Byers. Jonathan’s mom.
That made the encounter all the more wholesome.
****
As Steve was pulled away he didn’t notice Eddie behind him frowning.
“Hey, Gareth,” Eddie said. “You got to talk with the senator’s date, right?”
Gareth rolled his eyes. “Yes, I got to talk to your crush.”
Eddie flapped his hands at him. “Shush. But how would you describe his scent?”
Gareth frowned. “I don’t know. Spicy I guess. Like Mexican hot chocolate. Why?”
“You brought an escort to the Grammy’s last year,” Eddie continued, never taking his eyes off Steve. “How would you have described her scent?”
Gareth’s frown deepened between his brows as he fought to remember. “Fruity, I guess. Sweet. Almost too sweet.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Gareth pressed.
Eddie just pressed his lips together.
“You know,” Gareth said into the resulting silence. “I would say his scent complements yours.”
Eddie crossed his arms over his chest and looked down. He could only agree.
Something didn’t feel right and he was determined to find out what it was about Steve Harrington that got under his skin the way it did.
****
Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17
Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @lexirosewrites @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @yikes-a-bee @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt @apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @eyehartart @mangoinacan13 @ellietheasexylibrarian @rememberthatiloveyou @demolvr @y4r3luv @slowandsteddie @r0binscript
#my writing#stranger things#steddie#ladykailtiha writes#omegaverse#alpha eddie munson#rockstar eddie munson#omega steve harrington
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Before I Leave You (Pt.58)
(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)
Summary: Your nightmares are a troubling development but the pack won't let you drown. They have different ideas on how to help you. Some more damaging than others.
Tags: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Fluff, Cuddling, scent marking, Nightmares, graphic depiction of fake character death, Discussions of past rape, No explicit depictions of past rape/sexual assault, past domestic-abuse, flashbacks, safe-wording during sex (Sorta), unpleasant sexual encounters, under-negotiated kink, mentioned sex toys, crying during sex, Sad blow jobs, small dick jungkook, allusions to past eating disorders, anxiety, implied self-hate, self-esteem issues, non-verbal main character.
W/c: 12.9k
A/N: this chapter was originally supposed to be a lot longer- but i got too in depth with it and had to split it up. This is easily one of the more heavy chapters of bily (and that's saying something), so please be mindful of the tags! For anyone wanting to skip the super triggering parts in the next chapter i've highlighted a sentence in red font both after the first triggering section and before the very triggering ending.
Special thanks to @imperiussexrex for helping me with jk's part <3 they're the bestest <3
Previous Chapter- Masterlist
"Sleep well, my lovely little spy."
Jin’s eyes flutter open, looking up at the beta who's watching him with a gentle but noticeably tense smile. Jin’s mouth is dry, he could pretend he didn’t hear anything but there would be no use. The truth wouldn’t change.
"Holy shit.” Jin’s whole body is ridged. Ready to run. In panic mode. But Yoongi’s hand settles on his shoulder. It’s the same touch as always and just as gentle and kind as it was both this mourning and 6 years ago. Yoongi has always been a kind soul, regardless of every secret Jin's ever learned to love about him.
Letting himself be known in return feels a little bit more perilous. Jin’s heart thuds against his fingertips. He swallows hard.
Yoongi hums, agreeing with Jin’s assessment. He runs a hand gently through Jin’s hair. Tugging away loose a knot. “Holy shit indeed.”
Everything is fine. In the wake of the dead body, everything in the pack is absolutely fine.
(That’s a lie, everything is definitely not fine, everything is in fact- falling apart. Like a butterfly larva worming its way to crystalize. Carving its way towards both womb and tomb. Something that changes you or destroys you.)
Jin and Yoongi can only hope.
It’s only hope after all. How much damage can it really do?
~-~
Your unraveling starts with the Nightmares.
Tonight, it’s a dark tangle of half-forgotten moments. A movie with all of the scariest scenes copied and pasted. Bright punctures of feelings like blood dripping down your chin and the tang of it in your mouth. Geumjae’s scent in your nose as he shoves your mouth against his skin. All of it. Every unhappy memory that your psyche has locked away for later drags you down like the tide would drag a stone to a watery grave.
Until the moments condense like a figure rising through fog and you’re sitting in that house again. The one with the yellow brocade curtains pulled closed across the windows so that no one sees what happens inside.
You're sitting with Geumjae at the dining room table. The elaborate meal in front of you rises with steam and smells divine calling you like a moth to honey. The cutlery is polished so clean that you can see your reflection in it. A million dancing tiny versions of you stare back with vacant doll-like eyes.
You remember this meal; you remember what happened to you on this morning. The soreness between your legs reminds you of that horror. You remember how hard you worked after he left in the morning after leaving you in a bloody heap on the bathroom floor. You remember hoping that if you did everything you absolutely could to prepare this meal, He’d be satisfied and he wouldn’t hurt you again.
But avoiding rape is never quite so easy.
It was foolish to hope back then. Geumjae was a man of routine and he required your body every morning and evening without fail. But hoping is so hard to avoid, like an itch under your skin that demands biting nails, a furious sort of wanting. Hope is nothing more than a chain that drags you through the sludge when you think it might be your buoy.
In this nightmare, the other chairs at the table aren’t empty like they usually are. It’s not just you here.
He must have taken a needle and stitched your mouth shut (like he always threatened) because you feel powerless to scream at Namjoon to get away to stay back. You can do nothing more than watch as he leans over and says something to Geumjae that makes him smile. His smile makes him look like Yoongi; who sits at the head of the table and nurses a glass of wine while scowling.
Jin is on Namjoon's other side, hair combed back from his face in a way that makes Seokjin look absurdly pretty. The picture of delicate omega composure. Each of them eats like they haven't in days, shoveling food into their mouths like it’s their last meal.
Jungkook is by your side and asks if you’re going to eat your dinner roll. Puffy and crusty bread that he never would be able to eat in real life. You watch powerlessly as he scarfs it down like he hasn’t ever eaten anything more delicious. Licking his fingers from the crumbs when he finishes.
Tae is dressed in your jewels this time, not Jimin's. The necklace Geumjae gave you for your second anniversary digs into her collar bones as if it was pinned there. Like a butterfly on a piece of cardboard. Glittering with more diamonds than seem possible. Like one of those Instagram filters, every reflection mark turned glittery. Jimin’s suit is like something out of vogue.
One moment you’re looking at the perfectly edible food and the next you’re watching it rot before your very eyes. The meat greying and melting. The salad wilts gooey and spoiled. The fancy porcelain plates writhing with worms and maggots and creepy crawlies that slither out of nowhere. A spider inches its way up your fork.
No one notices. No one realizes that the bites they bring to their lips are poison. Jin licks his lips, the skin already greying and cracking.
Geumjae looks up at you from his plate, grinning all the while. Collar starched white. You haven’t heard his voice in so long but your mind remembers the exact cadence of it in perfect detail.
“What’s wrong princess? Aren’t you going to eat up?
When you look back at them it's already too late. Namjoon’s slumped in his chair staring blankly forward with bloody eyes. When you look Jin’s got his head half gone. Cut away. Wriggly things curl behind what's left of his eye.
Tae’s collarbones are bleeding where the diamond collar sits. Ribbons drip down her bodice. Jimin’s white shirt is slowly blooming red too. Bullet wounds pepper his chest. One on his shoulder and a cluster of them over his heart.
Jungkook slumps over his plate seizing until he’s still. Still the way that dolls are. Dead. Looking at you with wide vacant eyes that go grey with congealing blood.
Yoongi's hands are burning, fire licking up his clothes and he does nothing to put it out. Burning and bubbling and boiling. Skin peeling up like paint beneath the flames.
Hoseok is the only one not at the table.
Across from you, Geumjae smiles again. Baring his teeth in that animal way of his. “What’s wrong princess? I thought you said you loved them- aren’t you going to try and stop it?”
One moment he’s across the table and the next he’s leaning over you, back in that bedroom that was your hellhole less than a year ago. Pulling you by your hips to the end of the bed when you try to twist away. He fumbles with his belt buckle.
The sheets burn against your skin like its rug burn and although you weakly push at his chest. It feels like you're moving in slow motion. Your strength is nothing compared to his. It never was enough in real life anyway.
“No- no I don’t want- please don’t,” you choke. Trying to get him off of you, when he opens his mouth there are maggots there too.
You never did find out what they did with Geumjae’s body. But now you know as the rotting corpse of your dead husband assaults you. Boney hands grab your wrists as the worms drip out, dangle, and wriggle, falling onto your face and-
One of the terrible things about the big nest upstairs is that it’s really easy to get trapped in the middle with no easy way out.
Hobi finds himself in that position when he wakes. It’s the middle of the night, nearly 3 am probably when he’s roused by the familiar ache in his stomach that tells him he needs to pee.
The shades are pulled across the windows keeping the light out, and what little slips through is kept out by a thin curtain that sections off the nest from the rest of the room. Shielding the familiar lumps of packmates buried beneath the nest slumbering away.
It feels good to have all of you sleeping in one space, the instinctual pleasure flutters and builds on the edge of Hobi’s consciousness as he lifts his head. Barely opening his eyes. It feels homey in the way that Namjoon's rut nest hadn't. It's a true nest, Smelling thick and cakey sweet all of your scents drench it now after a few days of you all sleeping here. After finding the dead body, the decision had been unanimous. No more sleeping separately. No more splitting up between the upstairs nest and the remnants of yours downstairs.
Even though it's a new space some things never change. Jimin still sleeps at the edge near the bottom, guarding the nest from the most logical point of vulnerability. Although that might be because of last week.
The pack has made a few other adjustments in terms of safety since you and Hobi found the dead body. Many a moment has hobi walked into a room with Jin and Yoongi only to have them fall silent. But he doesn't have to ask what new precautions they've agreed upon.
They’ve fallen back into the habit of letting each other know when they get to work safely and when they leave, and when to expect them home (the same habit they had just after yoongi left actually) Phone locations are perpetually turned on just in case. But Hobi knows the only time any of them feel truly settled is when they’re all up here.
The nest is big. Big enough for all of you to sleep comfortably, even all sprawled out. But as thoughtful as Yoongi was when he constructed the space he certainly did not think about how hard it would be to leave for a midnight bathroom break given the walls that close in on three sides.
Now, Hobi is trapped and bound by blankets and fancy pillows and the gently sleeping bodies of his pack all around him. The border is high and fluffed. It’s in an alpha's nature to be careful around his packmates and it goes against something very basic in Hobi to even think about disturbing the carefully placed pillows and blankets, the general purposeful disarray of such a cozy nest. Alphas simply don’t fuck with omega nests.
But on the other hand, he’s seriously stuck.
Namjoon, Jimin, and Jin are at the bottom blocking off the most logical point of egress. Jin’s head rests on Jimin's shoulder, dark hair fanning. Yoongi is tangled up with Tae (her hair in these little puffy rollers). And Jungkook’s star fished and spread out by the top edge, right where Hobi was. His fingers rest under his shirt like he’s been rubbing at his stomach. Snoring softly.
Hobi’s heart swells just looking at them.
The only safe avenue of exit where Hobi won’t be climbing over two people is near the bottom left, close to Jin and Namjoon, where you lie on your side, cheek pillowed. Chest rising up and down a little rapidly in the darkness. It’s so dark that Hobi doesn’t see it at first.
Hobi’s so half-asleep that he doesn’t even realize right away that you’re not as undisturbed as the others. That you occasionally twitch like a puppy.
Hobi is no stranger to maneuvering his lithe body around sleeping packmates, muscles straining as he very gently pulls himself over you. Depressing the mattress by your side. His baggy sleep shirt momentarily brushes your face as he shifts over you.
Your reaction is instinctual, one moment asleep and the next awake. Your scent going sour all at once. Exploding in a rush. You push out with your arms, still in the nightmare.
One second Hobi’s on the bed the next he’s stumbling out of it, Barely keeping himself from falling face-first onto the floor. Bare feet slide on the polished wood when he gets them under him. Cursing out a brief “What the fuck?” looking back, ready to be angry at being shoved.
But then he sees that you're sitting up, trembling so hard that your hands can't grip the blanket to get it off of you. Eyes wide and glassy with panic. You blink and blink, lower lip wobbling.
There is a single moment where he just looks at you, but then you let out a small (and admittedly pathetic) chirp.
There is nothing like a chirp that tugs on an alpha’s hindbrain, that drags Hobi's instincts to the forefront like a hook in a fish's mouth. He's honestly surprised that the sound doesn't wake anyone else. Maybe because it's so quiet, so small.
It’s just a dream, just a very bad dream, and your pack is sleeping softly around you. The next thing you feel is Hobi gently crushing you to his chest. Smelling like caramel and boy. Tenderly whipping back your hair from your face. His warm fingertips press against your tender temples dislodging the last bit of you that can't tell if this is real yet.
“Pup? What’s wrong- what happened?"
Hobi looks about as different from Geumjae as anyone possibly could, his jaw slender where Geumjae was wide, eyes bright where his went dark and hooded. Unthreatening and normal brown in the glow.
But just like the dream, you can’t fucking speak.
“Fuck- it was just a dream, whatever it was- it’s not real- I’m-”
You’re shaking and crying and you can’t respond. Your throat is all tight. All of you that is usually happy and gentle is reduced small and scared and quiet. You can't tell where the shadows end and where reality begins. You can only feel his hands. That's the only thing that feels real beyond the terror.
You can't look around; you can't look around at the others- too scared that they'll be dead.
Thank God for the physical nature of Hobi’s job. Herking bags of soil and 30-gallon trees has honestly done him good because it means he can carry you downstairs with a little effort.
Real panic circles his head like a bunch of buzzards, threatening to pick his heart clean. "Hang on- here we go." He turns on each of the lights one by one by leaning into them. Shoulder hitting the plastic, the two of you safer with each click. "See- there isn't anything to be scared of! There's no one here but us."
Hobi is right, Hobi would never lie to you. This kitchen is not the same one from your nightmares. The blinds are blinds and not curtains, drawn to keep out the streetlights not any prying eyes. The old rickety table where the pack has their meals isn't piled with food at all. Only some tangerines in a wooden bowl in the center.
You’re small and shaky in an extra big shirt of Namjoon’s that pools on your thighs when he places you on gently the countertop with a small 'oof'. You're already a little more lucid, eyes darting from the light to the shadows and still trembling faintly. Hobi knows instantly from the stillness that you’re nonverbal. Mouth uncooperative. Your brain is a mix of misplaced adrenaline and cortisol. You smell terrified.
“It’s okay, it’s just a dream, here-” Hobi fills up a yellow plastic cup with water and tips it against your lips. The cold soothes your throat but not to the point that you can speak. You’re unwilling to detangle yourself from him. Real and warm and there now that you’ve got him. hand tangled in the front of his shirt, clinging to him.
He hums as he dabs a cold dishcloth across on your hot cheeks. “You’re okay- I’ve got you.” You lean into his hands, legs parted so that he can stand between them. You look so sad and so small that Hobi’s heart hurts.
You don’t want to speak, really don’t want to but you force yourself anyways. “Don’t remember them- usually- Or wake up in the middle- sorry- M' sorry.”
Your eyes itch, and your face feels all puffy as he continues to dab at it. The cloth is rough and Cold, but hobi's warm where his skin touches yours.
Alive and safe. you barely want to blink incase you miss it.
“Don’t apologize, it’s okay.” Hobi continues to dab at your cheeks, “You get them often?” You shake your head instead of responding and Hobi’s scent goes thick with upset, burning sugar ever so slightly smokey. You sniffle still sort of crying and Hobi does the only thing he can think of.
Maybe it’s just that he’s half asleep himself, or an expression of his alpha protectiveness. The ringing in his ears says protect packmate, provide for packmate, soothe.
Hobi’s scent gland brushes against yours with an electric zing. Pushing you from shaky to boneless nearly instantaneously. He drags his throat and chin across your left shoulder, and then your right.
it takes real effort for him to keep his palms pressed flat against the kitchen counter while he does it but at least it has the desired effect of banishing the last bit of sogginess from your cakey scent. Your instincts purr alphas here, alphas going to keep you safe, keep the shadows at bay.
Your scent goes sweeter and your half-asleep body goes mailable as you lean into him. Resting your cheek on his shoulder, Hobi huffs a soft laugh. It feels sort of nice, having you close like this. He knows how omega's get, Jungkook goes sleepy puppet soft when he's scent marked this close to sleep too.
Yoongi would want Hobi to do this right? Yoongi would want Hobi to comfort his mate. He’d do it himself if he was awake. Hobi’s just being a good packmate. Right?
The hair on the back of your neck stands on end as he pulls away. Is it just your imagination or is he a little reluctant?
A startled chirp bursts from your lips, and you clamp your hand back over your mouth. but hobi's laugh echoes loud off the high ceilings, "It's alright pup." You try to speak again but Hobi shushes you, there’s no need for you to push yourself. Not with him. Not right now.
The slant of the light across Hoseok’s face isn’t right. Too grey and yellow from the light in the hall. It’s too late for it to be morning yet and too dark for you to quiet your heartbeat. Hobi can feel it, jackrabbit fast against his throat.
If he's here, that means the nightmare really was only that. A nightmare. Hobi wouldn't be wrapped around you if the rest of the pack were dead. You don't need to go back upstairs and double-check.
Now if you could only stop crying.
“Here,” Hobi starts to pull away and you make a panicked sound, fingers tangling in his shirt. “I’m not going anywhere, let me just get my bag-” You shake while he’s gone, sitting on the countertop, stumbling when you get off of it, knees weak. Holding the edge until he comes and gets you with an arm under your shoulders, transferring you effortlessly to the couch.
When did Hobi get so good at this? You’d be inclined to think this was just another dream (one of those shameful ones that you don’t even mention to Yoongi) but you’re not sure you could have dreamed this up.
“Lights off or on?” You shiver so he goes one by one turning on the overhead lights and then the lamps, the ones under the cabinets in the kitchen too. There’s not a hint of shadow here, no monster that he couldn’t guard you from.
You can still see the light behind your eyes when you close them. Blinking slowly like a cat would. Hobi has his headphones in his hand, not his usual earbuds but the dilapidated black over-the-ear headphones with peeling stickers on the sides that have been his almost as long as Yoongi has (they might have been stolen from the record store- back when Yoongi's rebellious streak ran a little wider).
The second they go around your ears the world dampens and your heartbeat slows.
“I’ve got you.” Hobi mouths, reaching to pull your head to lie against his shoulder, the blue light flicker of his phone screen hurts your eyes as he scrolls through some songs and puts one on. It’s slow and soft, mostly instrumental except for faint vocals. You can’t hear what Hobi says but he pulls you to rest against his side. Settling.
He doesn’t make you talk about the nightmare. Doesn’t make you talk at all. You melt, pressing your face into his shoulder as hard as you can, your shaking relaxing with every word. Every soft hum. It’s working, your trembling is only skin-deep now. In a few minutes, you won't be shaking at all.
“Go to bed,” he asks, even though you can't hear him. Pillowed against him. The songs shift quietly. Your hand somehow gets under Hobi’s shirt and presses against the skin of his hip. Holding it softly so that he doesn’t go anywhere, it feels like a bit of a thank you.
You cling to him and he lets you. You probably can’t hear him but he still repeats, “I’ve got you.”
I’ve got you.
~-~
Yoongi’s never shot up faster in his life, leaving part of himself in the dream. He can feel the panic down the bond as he stumbles. The nest is too empty. Yoongi’s sleep-sluggish brain counts the number of bodies and he goes cold when he counts five and not seven. Pure shuddering terror bleeding down his back like he's just been doused with cold water.
Where are you? Where is Hobi? There is something wrong- something seriously wrong. Yoongi can feel it on the back of his tongue, the taste of your despair acidic. Once a familiar feeling, now lashing him like lightning.
Communicating directly through the mating mark isn’t something that happens often anymore for the two of you. It did when the bond was fresher, but now that it’s settled the connection has dulled. In the way that clothes go worn and comfortable. It’s not usually a stabbing pain like this. Such a visceral feeling that it wakes Yoongi up from it.
Yoongi stumbles to the door following your scent like a man possessed. The way it shifts from the nest. Panicked to not alone. Hobi’s panic too saturates the air. Yours is rainy wet and Hobi’s is burnt and over-sweet, faintly medicinal.
There are sounds on the stairs. Footsteps rouse Hobi just as he’s finally fallen asleep. His neck aches from how he’s been leaned back against the couch And he winces as it cracks.
“Hobi?” Yoongi calls cautiously. At his waist, your fingers tangle loosely in his shirt holding onto him like he’s a lighthouse in a storm, clinging to him even as you sleep. Hobi realizes he’s got a bit of your hair stuck to his lips. Spitting it out.
“Over here.“ Hobi’s jaw pops when he yawns. Yoongi stumbles to you because he can’t stay away when you’re like this. When you need him. You don’t rouse when Yoongi touches you, cupping your cheeks. Eyes feasting on the crusty salt around your eyes, the faint silvery shimmer of dried tear tracks across your cheeks.
“She had a nightmare- couldn’t sleep with the lights off so- thank god you're here I have to pee like so fucking bad-” Hobi says quietly.
Yoongi definitely does not eye the way that your hand stays loosely knotted in the front of his shirt, or note verbally the way that you smell like him. Drenched in hobi's scent and clinging to him.
“Daisy,” Yoongi says, sounding a bit surprised and alot in love, tucking his Hobi’s hair behind his ear. Standing over the two of you looking a little shaken. Yoongi is an expert at moving you softly detangling your hand from Hobi's shirt without waking you and freeing Hobi from his self-imposed prison.
He's still shaken when Hobi comes back from the bathroom. Hobi can’t blame him. You don’t really have the best track record when it comes to disappearing together. First the car crash last month, and now the dead body. It’s understandable why Yoongi’s panicked a bit.
But now he just looks at Hobi. Eyes scanning his face, a small smile beveling the edge of his lips.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Hobi says. The faint murmur of music is barely there, you're still asleep with his headphones on. Hobi had panic made a playlist on his phone after you’d fallen asleep. Putting only the most gentle instrumentals on it.
So what if he’d saved it with a cat emoji and a purple heart? Yoongi can’t possibly know that just by looking at him.
Yoongi doesn’t respond and Hobi tucks his chin, looking down at you, sleeping soundly still. The nightmare must have really tired you out because you're out like a light. His voice goes softer, like the emotion in his throat is constraining his vocal cords.
“What was I supposed to do? Let her panic? That wouldn’t have been kind.”
Yoongi's hand falls onto Hobi's head, rubbing through his hair. the touch feels like a reward. Hobi's not sure what for. “No- it wouldn’t have been Daisy.”
“Like it when you call me that,” Hobi says. Eyelashes flutter as yoongi scratched at the nape of his neck, head bowed. and he can hear the laugh in Yoongi’s voice. Hobi’s not really awake either.
“You don’t have to worry,” Hobi says “I’m not gonna like- freak out and run away if she needs something, like the first time.”
Hobi feels embarrassed about that when he thinks about it. Embarrassed and a little bit fond of the memory every time he sees the train ticket still in his wallet. The top edge is so chewed up that you can hardly tell it’s a ticket anymore.
“Sure,” Yoongi says and Hobi knows he hasn't fooled anyone, least of all your mate. hobi stands up properly, and when his hand falls, yoongi just tugs at his wrist, the callouses on his hands comfortably rough against hobi's skin. “Come on.”
You wake bleary for a handful of seconds when Yoongi puppets you, moving to sprawl out while Hobi discards the back cushions. Yoongi slips Hobi’s headphones off your ears and puts them safely to the side. wordless and publish while yoongi gets one of the blankets to tug it over your form.
Yoongi tuts and doesn't let hobi avoid the same predicament. although it's Infinitely more comfortable than his prior half-crunched position. If Yoongi’s being honest, it sort of looked like Hobi was guarding you. body curled over in a protective stance.
Alpha's are so funny.
Hobi ends up face-to-face with you. His flannel pj set un-buttoned to the middle tugged loose from your tugging earlier. the triangle of his bare chest presses against the bare skin of your collarbone as he shuffles away from the edge of the couch. Your own pj set pulled off one shoulder. Yoongi’s sitting up, his thigh warm against the top of Hobi’s head.
You’re running a fever maybe, worming your way closer to Hobi like you need it. Your nose presses into Hobi’s chest, a little cold at the tip and ticklish. Hobi squirms and Yoongi huffs. Overly fond.
“She does that to me in her sleep too sometimes. Means she likes your scent.” Hobi feels warm, and it’s no secret that his scent fluffs up sweeter, as if encouraging you to enjoy it. You re-settle. falling asleep with your nose tucked into Hobi's sternum.
Fuck you’re both so cute, your hair mixing colors on the pillow- sharing the same one because even being that far apart is too much. Hobi falls asleep with Yoongi combing gentle touches down his back. His favorite way to fall asleep- being touched so casually and consistently. You breathe against his skin, cradled to his chest. Sleeping soundly. Finally soothed.
Hobi watches you until sleep takes him.
~-~
Unfortunately, that’s not the last time you’re woken by a nightmare in the coming weeks
Over the next few days, it seems like more often than not Yoongi and Hobi wake to the scent of your terror in the air. Quieting your little sobs with soothing touches in the bathroom. Blankets are brought into the space so that you can curl up in the bathtub, darkness kept at bay by the overhead lights, its lingering shadow curling underneath the doorway trying to drag you down.
They don’t mind, at least they tell you they don’t mind when it eventually comes time to wake in the morning and your words are barely intact. Soft and rough in a way they haven’t been in months.
For you, it feels infuriating. Your non-verbalness might only be a temporary state but that doesn’t mean that overcoming it isn’t tiring. It’s frustrating. Working so hard each day to speak only to have it wrenched away again at night.
Always.
Always you wake up from your nightmares non-verbal. Guided to somewhere light by Hobi so that your fear of the dark won't rouse the rest of the pack. Soothed back to sleep by his music and some scenting. Waking up sometime after sunrise, struggling but better. A routine.
As for the pack…
“It feels like she’s going backward,” you hear Jin confess one morning while he brushes his teeth in the upstairs bathroom. he sounds afraid (he is afraid after waking up to you gone from the nest yet again for the 5th time this week- and it's only thursday). It's obvious Jin doesn't know you're within earshot but the double doors that lead to the bathroom are wide open.
Hobi sends you a fraught look. You’ve just come back upstairs after spending a few hours in the Living Room. You're only able to risk a few more hours of sleep because the sun is turning the sky all grey-blue.
“Do you think-” What he says next is jumbled by the sound of someone turning on the shower, Jungkook or jimin maybe (the upstairs shower is large enough that honestly- all eight of you might be able to fit given you where willing to risk any soap related injuries).
Namjoon’s answering hum is all dark thunder. jin's proposed solution a mystery. “No, I don’t think that would help.”
Sometimes it’s not just Hobi and Yoongi who wake up with you.
Sometimes it’s Jimin. Holding your shoulder with that firm touch looking like he’s about to snap his teeth at any incoming shadows. Sometimes you wake and he’s already sitting at the edge of the bed watching the stairs and the windows. Shirtless, legs splayed with his handgun balanced across his knees.
Or is it just your imagination? Is that just another dream because you certainly don’t see any weapons when he and Hobi pull you from the bed a few seconds later?
They take shifts. Jin and Namjoon blanket you on both sides, soft rumbles soothing you, their quiet banter a welcome melody in your private nest downstairs. Jungkook the next night- who admittedly just wraps his body around you and goes back to sleep so quick it makes you jealous, curled around your spine while you listen to Tae read you a late-night story.
Tae’s delicate murmur does all the character's voices just right. Her lips are both mystery and familiarity. She always seems to crack open the world with the first line.
“Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood.”
They never make you speak; never treat you like they’re too tired even though you know they are. You can see it on their faces, on Hobi’s eyebags getting greyer by the day. Hobi’s the only one who's there every time a nightmare drags you awake. Even Yoongi doesn’t wake up every time.
(Although you confess it's more because you develop a routine. You and Hobi sleep by the side of the nesting nook, where it’s easy to get out without moving around too much. Close enough to each other that he often wakes smelling like you and you always wake smelling like him).
You try to talk with him about it. Guilt makes your heart feel all stuffy. Is it possible to get a heart cold?
“You know, you could just leave your headphones out-"
“No- don’t worry about it, I’ll just make it up later.”
Always. Always Hobi wakes and plops his headphones on your ears. Sometimes he seems awfully lively, grinning and cracking jokes when you burrow into his chest and wipe your tears on his shirt.
“I am like- among the top 10 worst sponges in history you know?”
Sometimes he wakes you from the nightmares before you’ve had the chance to jerk awake. He recognizes the tell-tale stillness, the quick breaths. He never lets you suffer for long. Waking you with a hand on your shoulder. Allowing you to shove him just a little because he knows you're just reacting to your dream and him bleeding together.
"It's just me- you're okay, I've got you."
Sometimes, you wonder if you’re not the only one who can’t sleep lately.
During the day you spend a lot of time in the nesting pod, catching up on sleep while it's still light outside. dreading the afternoons and evenings when the shadows linger like a looming storm. Alone and safe and quiet.
Occasionally you're joined by noodle, purring up against your stomach. Meowing at you until you lift your arm and he can cuddle close. Sometimes you feel like he knows you’re sadder than you say you are. That when the others aren’t there to watch you, you’re stiller, less mobile than normal. You don't even click away at your phone, half the time you forget to charge it anyway.
Hobi would never tell you- but a few afternoons ago he’d come home to Noodle waiting for him on the front step. He’d lead Hobi inside, little kitty face glaring back at him every few steps. Circling his curled form and yowling when he dared to take a second to take his shoes. off. Panicked and nervous, all but biting on his ankles before he led Hobi into the sunroom. His bushy tail held high.
There he’d meowed woefully at your nesting pod where you slept soundly. So loud that Hobi was worried it would wake you. As if he was trying to say “Aren’t you going to do something?”
Hobi had just quieted the cat with a soft shush and picked him up. Closing the door behind both of them. “Let her sleep nu,” he’d gotten nothing but a tearful meow in response. Some squirming, but no claws. “What do you expect me to do? I’m trying my hardest.”
Noodle keeps his secrets. Hobi’s question goes unanswered by the cat- who’d simply squirmed out of his hold and gone to wait by the door to be let back in. Glaring at Hobi’s retreating figure like he’d been betrayed.
Noodle seems to know something that the pack doesn't. He's sat in your lap during dinner and breakfast every single night this week, especially on the days you’ve slept more.
Hobi continues to try his hardest. He brings home flowers from the shop. He says they’re for Jin but puts them by the nesting pod and no one even bothers to tease him. He makes sure that you don’t fall out of the habit of going on late-night drives. Even though you don’t go back to the beach again quite yet. The memories there are too prescient.
Hobi takes you to the winding mountain road again. Drag racing one night with Jimin, because what good is trying to squeeze in a few hours of sleep before sunrise when you’ll just wake anyway? You might as do something fun until you’d wake up normally.
You leave that night a little more wobbly-legged than Hobi will admit to Namjoon when he asks later. "I'm never getting into a car with you again Minnie- what the fuck."
But sometimes the alphas do use the sunroom when you’re there.
It’s kind of nice to hear them on the other edge of your senses. When you’re dozing and Tae and Jimin want to play video games. their shouts of happiness and false outrage better than their screams of terror.
When Hobi and Jungkook want to do some stretching before they take an afternoon run, their giggles push out the memories of cruel words that ring in your ears. Yoga mats all stretched out and noodle perched on the edge of Hobi's multicolored one. Watching you, tail flicking back and forth.
They'll never know how much they help just by being there.
Or when they work on rearranging Hobi’s plants around. Fitting them into different spots like a jigsaw puzzle and moving them from room to room. He doesn’t mean to be indecisive about it, he’s just trying to find the best home for each of them.
They take the big banana tree upstairs to put it in the nesting room because that honestly has really good light and Hobi’s baby can’t be compromised. They move the monstera there too and switch the string of pearls for three big ferns hanging above your nesting nook. Shifting A big fig tree that honestly looks kinda pretty from the entryway to the corner, hanging part of the way over the small sectional.
A leggy orchid that someone bought Namjoon as a “thank you for not letting me go braindead” present is the wimpiest and smallest of the bunch. Hobi's in the process of rehabilitating it. For now, it sits on the window sill growing a single pathetic leaf.
Hobi tries to spend a lot of time nearby when you’re trying to sleep, he always seems to show up when you're having the hardest time ignoring your thoughts.
They're getting tired of you being a goddamn mess every time. Why can't you just get better? It's pathetic, Hobi is fine. Why are making such a big deal over this? But deep down you know it's not just the dead body that caused all of this.
Things are slow at the flower shop in the fall with only the occasional wedding until the Christmas season starts up. Hobi talks to you about it while he waters his plants and trims up some leaves that are dying. He’s definitely not looking forward to making bows for the whole month of December and wrestling with wreaths. He’d much rather talk to you about his ferns. The big stag leaf one that’s in the corner by the tv. And the big fluffy ones that hang above the nesting pod.
“I know they're messy but If I overwinter them we can hang them back on the porch next year, They looked so nice!”
You hum from the pod, turning your cheek to look up at him. he's got his flannel rolled up to his elbows, a shirt underneath that looks homey and warm. Hobi’s scent grows sweet. “They did look really cool this year, kind of like big green soot sprites.”
“We should watch spirited away again.”
“We should.”
You stretch out in the nesting pod while he fiddles with one of the fronds, pulling off the dead leaves with a crumple. You stretch your curled-up legs, toes brushing the ratan sides of the pod.
“If I was a plant where would you put me?”
“Probably where it’s sunniest.”
You can hear his smile on the words, you hum and go back to sleep while he works. Hobi checks your breathing every few minutes, just to make sure you don’t need to be woken up again.
Hobi never talks about the nightmares and never asks what they’re about. Which is something you’re thankful for as the days go on and they get worse and worse. You don’t know how many more nights you can wake up gasping without telling them what you're dreaming about. That it's the idea of them dying that has you so panicked. not to mention the nightly revision of the worst parts of your abuse.
Yoongi doesn't always let you escape without a bit of interrogation. Badgering you until you tell him that he needs to stop.
Jin’s just as bad, constantly hovering. You found your sleep schedule, an estimated hours of sleep you’ve gotten scrawled on the edge of a newspaper in Namjoon's handwriting. He's a little generous with his calculation- You know you haven't slept 13 hours in the last 4 days. You’d crumpled up the page and thrown it in the garbage.
In the morning you find out their motive behind it. Blinking down at your cereal and at the red raspberries bobbing in the milk. You can't help but get defensive about this; because really when you go non-verbal so often about this- what good would talking do?
“Jin, I’m not going to therapy.”
Jin looks a little bit less like his usually put-together form, button-up shirt a little looser than it might have been a few weeks back. Yoongi rubs down his shoulders as he passes. Work has been keeping Jin later and later- anytime someone asks he says something about a problem child at the home for forgotten pups that needs Jin's full attention.
It's so very like him to suggest therapy.
He pulls his fingers through his hair, trying to comb it into something orderly. Abandoning his usual routine of gel and mouse. “I’m not saying you have to go consistently- just once or twice, you went through something-“ he breaks off when Yoongi taps his hip, shaking his head.
You’re twisting your hands over your lap, again and again. But the word lands even though it was unsaid. Whereas before you and Hobi had a smart retort- now- the word feels less hollow, more heavy.
And Jin's not just talking about the body.
Jin doesn’t want to be frank, but you don’t look the best. Maybe it’s because you’d been so steadily getting better that they hardly remembered what sadness looks like on you. But now it looks like this; you sitting at the island counter, looking at your food, too nauseous to eat. Actually worried you're going to vomit if you try.
Any other morning, Jin would sit by you and coach you through it, would sit and wait for you and move you somewhere safe, somewhere softer to prod. He'd chase this worry with gentle touches. maybe he'd give you a gentle settling if you were feeling like you needed to reach that happy hazy head space to eat.
Any other morning Jin wouldn’t leave you.
But this morning, the clock says that Jin has exactly 20 minutes before he has to leave for work or else he’ll be late and miss the debriefing on the latest string of murders and drug-related reports. including a very well worded anonymous tip. it's important that jin's there for that.
It’s not enough time to drag you to some corner of the house and scent you happy. Or better- scruff you down into omegaspace where you’d be mailable and more agreeable under his touch.
Yoongi's eyes say, go I've got this, and Jin has never been more thankful for lovely enemies and a partner in crime.
But Jin simply does not have enough time to love you as he should. If Jin has to choose between making you feel loved and making you more physically safe he'll choose the latter every single time.
Baby steps. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and criminal empires won’t fall that quickly either.
“They’ll go away, I know they’ll go away because they did last time,” you reaffirm, only half believing it. You and Yoongi don’t talk about when you first moved into this house, but the truth is these nightmares aren’t really anything new for either of you.
At least this time they don’t come with you hurling your guts up every night. At least this time your words return in the middle of the day. At least you feel somewhat human right now.
Jin sends a fraught look in Hoseok ’s direction. Clearly requesting backup. He holds his hands up, straw in his mouth and ice coffee in his hand. “I’ll go if she goes.” Is all he says backing away. Clearly not ready to take Jin’s side with this. Late for work himself.
Jin almost misses when you guys were adversarial, rather than banded together as a unified front.
I never expected the pups to unionize
He sends Namjoon in a text a few hours later, After no less than 3 separate meetings that have him feeling more than a little tired himself.
Joonie (1:18): Really? I’d thought you would have been ready, no plans to destabilize the monarchy up your sleeve?
Jin can’t stop his smile, he’s conscious of who might be watching, so he hides it with his palm. Flirting on the FBI’s time has never felt so good.
What would you recommend?
Joonie (1:23): Spanking and sweets probably.
That at least had made Jin feel a little bit more at ease. But he knows what Namjoon really means, that he’s saying they should talk about this later face to face. Or worse there isn’t an easy solution. Namjoon had warned him that a request for therapy, however gentle and well-worded it was, might not go over well.
But what else can you do when someone won’t accept your concern? When love falls short? For the first time ever Jin is unsure what you need.
Over the next few weeks, you can tell that they’re being overly gentle with you. Treating you with velvet gloves.
Namjoon barks an order at Jungkook and Hobi when they rough house too close to you. jostling you where you stand unsteady in the bathroom. Tae lets loose a sleepy growl when Jungkook back hugs you one morning- something ordinarily innocuous but now makes you flinch hard. hand pressed over your heart to stop its thundering. Both times Jungkook tucks his tail smelling sour at being scolded even though it's really not his fault.
Everyone's instincts are running on high. Your scent is so off these days. Something about it muted and only getting duller. Jin didn't realize until the other day when he tried to find a pillow that smelled like you while nesting and couldn't.
The head of the FBI's largest organized crime task force, brought to sniffles over not being able to find the right pillow. What would Jin's enemies think?
Yoongi had only sighed, and relinquished his shirt to Jin's nesting. At least that was the next best thing.
but it's not only the little things that they're holding off from; it's sex too. You can clearly tell that they want to instigate something when you come upstairs one night after spending a few minutes with Tae in the library room.
Jungkook sat's tight across Namjoon’s lap. Moving his hips in a way that's sensual clinging to the pack alphas bare chest and licking into his mouth like an omega starved.
You know what they want to do- christen the nest in a way, truly break it in and make it smell like the pack.
But they'd stilled at your appearance and you'd made yourself scarce, clearly not ready to be asked to stay (or scarier- asked to leave). When you'd come back after showering the room had smelled of sour unhappy arousal and Jungkook had been pouting on the other side of the nest from Jin and Namjoon.
You hadn't heard the whispered argument. "You're treating her the exact same way you treated me when my seizures went bad."
"That was a different circumstance Koo and you know it."
"Still- it doesn't change the fact that you're making the decision for her instead of making a place that's safe enough for her to decide what she wants."
The idea that Jungkook and the others are holding off for your sake has you feeling even more guilty.
Even Tae- once insatiable, now hardly lifts her head from her computer when you walk into the library room wearing next to nothing. You know it’s just that. Just busyness that she's been spending every available second writing her new story.
But you can’t help but feel odd about it. Half guilty and half extra. Unwelcome.
Neglected isn’t the right word. Neglected is the word that Hobi would use for his orchid or the cactus that he accidentally forgot about outside. Two plants that are equally as finicky, opposites but maybe not in terms of difficulty. One praised for being beautiful, the other coveted for being hard to take care of.
It feels like that a lot of the time, that you're just hard to take care of. you're an adult you shouldn't even need to be taken care of at all.
That night- you toss and turn in the bed. Unable to sleep because you can't help but think about it, your thoughts a rushing torrent of you're such a bother. Maybe they're just trying to let you down easily. Maybe all of the love is a lie. You should try harder, if you try harder to overcome this then maybe they won't ask you to leave.
Sadness has rotted your brain a little, you don't know how to get back, how to stop the spiral. Until your hands are so tight that your nails dig into your palms. Leaving bloody little crescents.
The next day you try to catch up on sleep. In the nesting pod. A dark spot. Out of sight and out of mind, where all broken things go when it's clear they can't be fixed in a way that makes them useful. But it feels like you've only slept a few minutes when you're roused- not from a nightmare, but because someone gets into your nesting pod with you.
You smile in your sleep at the scent of honey, rich and golden. So nice and sweet that it makes you get goosebumps. Jungkook noses at them, dragging his cheek along the hair on your arms, soft and pleasant in that sensory sort of way.
Even though the nesting pod was a gift from Namjoon you'd been clear to Jungkook and Jin that they could use it whenever they wanted to. They're always a little bit more inclined to nest upstairs.
You sleepily hold out your arms for Jungkook, only cracking your eyes a little. You're not prepared for the sight of him in a crop top. blinking as you register it. Your pulse climbing higher. Jungkook doesn't say anything, doesn't say anything at all as he pulls his body along yours, settling mostly on top of you. quiet until you query "Kookie?"
He smells a little like the gym, but more like he'd showered there and then come home. You don't remember what day it is, what his schedule was. But the house is quiet around you, it must be one of his early days then?
His nose rubs smooth little circles along your neck, and when you pull back his eyes are a little glassy. "I miss you," he says, voice cracking a tiny bit. You don't have to ask why he misses you when you're right here. You know and your heart clenches painfully.
you laugh, "you just saw me this morning." but his lower lip wobbles, and you know thats not what he meant. it's frightfully easy to knot your fingers in his hair and pull him down to eye level. "c'm here."
You can tell by the way that Jungkook kisses you that he wants you, his arousal burning skin deep as his tongue laves against your lower lip and his hand slides down your chin to cup your scent gland, fingers pressing over the sensitive skin delicately.
You're so fucking tired.
Jungkook’s sex drive is honestly the highest in the pack, and you know that they usually keep him well tended to. But you also know that because of your predicament, no one’s tended to his needs in the last few days. You can smell it on the edge of his scent. Sweet but overly sweet, like a hovering cloud of settling perfume, unable to settle. Just getting stronger.
It’s not your job, and it shouldn’t be anyone’s job per se, but the idea of turning him down is so displeasing that you won’t even if you’re not really in the mood right now. You're so fucking tired. There isn't room for anything else. you don't have the energy to want this, you don't have the energy to want anything but sleep.
You kiss back, a little gentler than he wants, the soft needy noise he makes against the seam of your mouth tells you just how welcome it is. Your arms are sluggish as they go around his shoulders. He grins happy, and you grin too- because Jungkook’s joy is honestly so infectious. You let him tug you up, tug you out of the nesting pod even though your heart lurches.
This is your use to the pack, isn't it? The youngest omega, the lowest one in the hierarchy. You shouldn't say no and deny Jungkook what he wants. This is the way that he feels free, the way that he makes himself better.
After the pack's sleeping quarters had changed, there’d been a whole debate over where exactly to put the pack's sex toy collection and what to do with their old bedroom on the first floor. The side closet is no longer big enough or in use.
Installing some shelves in the bedroom had been the easiest solution. now they frame either side of the windows, holding Tae's overspill of books at the top and a few display cases. You remember the first day you'd wandered in here in search of your mate and found some suspicious-looking brackets installed along the ceiling studs, sawdust piles sweeper up on the floor.
“It’s totally not a sex dungeon.”
“Babe, you’re making a display for Jungkook’s dildo collection with a built-in sex bench.” At least you can still tease your mate when you're sad like this. Every little semi-normal comment you make feels like seeing the sun during a break from the storm. Even Yoongi's pout is half a smile.
“Just because I want there to be a bench doesn’t mean It’s a sex bench. It could be for like- watching tiktok and stuff. You know Hobi likes to find a spot where he won't bother us.”
“It’s totally a sex bench.”
“Is not.”
Yoongi is too fun to rile up. You'd watched him blush as you and Jungkook had playfully grabbed and swung on the ropes Yoongi was hanging, the heavy thick cotton ones soft to the touch that won’t irritate his loves sensitive skin. testing out the brackets meant for suspension.
Jungkook’s just as giggly and happy when he drags you there now, and your smile is very real pressed to his shoulder. The farthest thing from fake. it might be the first time you've smiled today. Jungkook always makes you feel this way; a little younger, a little bit like you’re sneaking around. That at least feels right.
You're very good at concentrating on the parts of sex that feel good, the parts that you want and not the ones that you don't.
(This morning the others had talked about it with Jungkook. Jimin and Tae had cuddled close to brainstorm. The way they often talk about sex things and pack things. Jimin's snorted honesty still stings.
"I don't know if Yoongi could literally fuck the sadness out of her, but at least it's a suggestion."
Jungkook had felt petulant and whiney, "But why doesn't he just try- if anyone's got a magic just right dick it's him-" Tae had chased Jungkook's disappointment with a kiss.
The truth is; the pack is mostly at a loss with how to help you this time. The most they can do is just stay close and make sure you have everything you need. But lately, not even that has felt like enough. Tae had scrapped her nails down Jungkook's abs, soothing him, with a bit of tingly pain pleasure.
"You're the only one whose bad mood can literally be cured with a good fuck bunny.”)
Yes, Jungkook is trying to make you feel lighter in the only way he knows how right now. But there are different medicines for different hurts for a reason.
Jungkook guides you down to the sex bench, tugging at your shirt a little. Still kissing you. Up close you realize it's actually more of a daybed, styled very attractively with a few throw pillows. One that's more memory foam and sturdy for propping bodies up.
It's no secret how sweet turned on happy Jungkook smells from just a little kissing, just the bare minimum. Jungkook moans- a crocked needy sound, scent pulsing richer in the air. He squirms a little bit, reaching over to one of those shelves. Rummaging in one of the frosted acrylic buckets.
“I’ve had this idea for weeks now that you've taken Joonie’s- fuck- I just- I didn’t know when you’d want to try it but I saw this video online with two omegas and Jin said no but- ha! Here it is!”
You gulp.
The big purple thing is a veritable monster, glittery and double-ended, ridged not like a regular dildo but more like a tentacle. It's about as thick around as your wrist. Namjoon’s a little thicker but still-
it makes fear trickle down your spine, warm and almost bleeding.
Jungkook reads your expression. And the disappointment crests his cheeks, his bunny smile falls, and you feel like you’ve failed already.
At the thought of being filled right now. You feel like you might want to vomit. You try not to have any sort of expression, just a small smile- but fall abysmally short. You’re too tired, too sore, too tight to properly enjoy that.
The idea that your sadness is enough to get in the way of this, what Jungkook so clearly needs is suddenly too much for you to bare. Jungkook needs sex, doesn't he? He needs it to make the seizures feel not quite so damning. He'd told you once- how much he required sex to feel loved. It's his love language right? Isn't this what people always say when they want physical touch?
Who are you to say that your needs are more important than his? You certainly do not love yourself as much as you love him.
Jungkook’s frown is heartbreaking and you easily kiss it away. Making your kisses more eager. You’re a good kisser and a good actor. Your kisses make Jungkook feel all fluttery and hot in the chest, quickly forgetting about the dildo and whatever plans he might have had.
"Just want you- don't want-" words get in the way of kissing, sucking, you mouth at Jungkook's lower lip, making him groan.
Jungkook’s scent gland is a semi-swollen little lump under your teeth as you nibble on it, making him part his legs, grinding up into nothing and letting out a breathless whine. You set yourself across his lap and his big hands quickly fist on your waist pulling you snugly.
You don’t mind this, you really don’t.
It's too routine for you, the first thing that you reach for to avoid saying no. His belt buckle is warm against your palm as you shift so that you can slide to the floor. Pulling your body away from him. he lets out a needy bereft sound. stopping you as you start to tugg at his waistband.
his cheeks are pink, lips red from kisses when you pull back. "I-"
"Let me kiss you here Koo." Let me at least do something. Let me stop feeling so guilty, I know how to fix the guilt even if you don't.
Jungkook catches your chin before you sink to the floor. Jungkook has a hickey on his abs glimmering there just along his hipline. The crop top pulled up to right under his pectorals in a way you know would have the alphas growling and mouthing at his stomach. That's probably how he got the hickey in the first place.
“But you don’t like it.” He says, not quite understanding. Catching your hand as you slide it across his knee.
“I want to try.” You lie, "I-I feel like I’ve lost practice, need to be taught how-” You bat your eyes, looking down and away like you're embarrassed. Just let me do this and make you cum. Just let me get this over with so that we can go back to cuddling and I can feel safer. Jungkook always gets especially cuddly after he's cum too. “I don’t- I don’t do it for the alphas like at all." Your stuttering isn't all faked. You’ve lost practice in a lot of things, but lying clearly isn’t one of them.
“Or Yoongi” Jungkook notes. A little too quickly.
Your heart pulses, Bruised a bit at that. You've never explicitly discussed the abuse you underwent with anyone but Yoongi and Namjoon. You didn't think anyone really noticed how much you don't like giving blowjobs. It's not that you don't want to reciprocate or touch- it's just that once with Geumjae, the choice to reciprocate was taken away from you. The choice to get anything at all was always taken away. It's hard to forget that, to want it again.
You remember his words. He'd always been violent with words before he'd ever gotten violent physically with you. Coercion doesn't feel like it has the same weight compared to that (Hobi would probably argue with you- but his case was different wasn't it?)
"You're so fucking selfish, you could help me in like- 10 minutes but you're choosing not too. We could go back to having a normal fucking evening. I do so much for you and even now when I can't fucking sleep you won't just do this one fucking thing- it's not like I'm asking for much. You're too young, I should have known you wouldn't know how normal relationships function."
It's foolish of you to think that you could be selfish forever. You should get used to this with Jungkook so that it's not so bad with the others later. In case they ever realize how selfish you've been.
“Yeah,” you swallow back a lump in your throat. “But can I? I want to-” You make your eyes wide, biting your tongue hard so that your scent doesn’t go sour.
Jungkook looks like he’s warring with himself for a second but then the hornyness wins out. He pulls his pants down his thighs and you help him, big and muscular as he stands, you on the floor before him. It feels right in a twisted way. See I know my place, see I'm not trying to get away with anything.
Jungkook almost trips when he moves to get a pillow for your knees because he’s not a monster. Namjoon and Jin have taught him well.
Jungkook is not a monster.
If you said no, if you said that you wanted to stop you know he wouldn’t hold it against you. At least not at first, at least not this time. After the 4th or 5th or 10th attempt you know that wouldn't be the case.
Jungkook doesn't even have large enough of a cock for it to feel like a real blowjob. His bunny eyes are wide and eager as you give it a first little kiss. Tentative. You kiss the head again, focusing, dragging your lips up the sides and nuzzling into the skin of his hip, indulging in his scent because at least Jungkook smells nice, smells clean, before you take him into your mouth
Geumjae always smelled a bit like piss. Tasted like it too. At least Jungkook's not like that.
He can be forgiven maybe, for not noticing right away. For not asking if you want this twice. A muted curse falls from his lips instead and he carefully cradles your head. A little startled.
"Fuck- ah-" The muscles of his abdomen tense beneath your touch, startled by the sudden influx of pleasure and the wet tight hot heat of your mouth. "I don't think you need any practice- fuck-"
Omega cock tastes less bitter than alpha cock does. And Jungkook’s dick is honestly so small you can’t even choke on it properly. He doesn’t hit the back of your throat when he rocks it into your mouth. Eking pleasure from the tight seam of your lips.
He doesn’t even hit the back of your throat or engage your gag reflex. So, you wonder why your eyes start watering. One of his hands fists (albeit a little bit too sloppy to be totally gentle) in your hair, using it to keep you stationary while he fucks your mouth. Little rolls of his hips that end in cute, "ah-ah-ah" sounds leaving his lips.
Good, you're doing good. Your nose is buried in his skin. With the little tuft of hair there, Jungkook must have showered at the gym because it doesn't smell like anything. Just breathe.
You know Jungkook doesn't get stimulation to his cock often. The others much prefer to fuck his hole rather than pay attention to it and that works in your favor now because Jungkook's so sensitive. You feel his cock jerk a little, tensing as his abdomen does, flexing up against the pallet of your mouth. Especially when your tongue teases at the head. Finding the ridge of his frenulum and pressing up.
Your lungs sting but you keep your tongue flat, lapping up at the underside, keeping your mouth wet and messy and not swallowing yet. Jungkook's precum tastes a little salty, not as salty as alpha cum would taste like but still not bad. Just a little bit like sweat and a little bit like honey.
Jungkook looks down at you, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead his lips falling slack in pleasure. Hips twitching up, looking debauched and lovely from it already. Pride swells, even as you have to fight back the urge to gag. Quieting the revulsion in your stomach through force of will alone.
You can do this, you don't have to make a big deal over it-
Jungkook tips his head back, closing his eyes, and you're free to shudder unwatched. "Fuck- just like that- you're so good at it, fuck-" You wonder if you get this same wide-eyed subspace look when you’re sad if that’s why he doesn't notice. Your knees burn, hands tighten. One on his hips the other digging into your thigh.
You hear someone outside in the hall and before you have the chance to even think about pulling off they're opening the door. Jimin almost trips, Clearly not expecting to see you on your knees or Jungkook with his legs splayed and shirt rucked up to show his tummy.
You pop off Jungkook’s cock easily, jaw aching already (you really are out of practice) Jimin’s look is all predatory, alpha pheromones bubbling up. One second startled, the next prowling in your direction like a jungle cat.
“Ah pups, getting into trouble? Pups having a treat?”
Jungkook giggles, spreading his knees wider, fingers stroking down your cheek as you catch your breath. Wiping the spit from your lips. “We’re not done yet,” he huffs. You blink up at Jimin and the touch he drops on your head is everything. Soothing your frantic panting. You push up into it, eager for a casually loving touch.
"Wanna make some trouble with us?"
“maybe, think i'd much rather watch" He teases, jutting his chin at Jungkook and settling down next to him, leaning on his chin to watch you as you're urged back to it. You kiss Jungkook's cock again as the alpha guides him into a kiss. Settling his happy-turned-on pheromones into a thick bubble that bursts.
You lap at Jungkook’s cock head, making it messy. Watching the two of them get distracted by kissing, licking into each other’s mouths. Jungkook's hand falls from your hair in favor of cupping Jimin's thigh.
And you below them, an afterthought.
You ignore the longing in your chest and go back to sucking Jungkook off. After a minute or two, Jimin's hand returns to your head, his knuckles rub against your cheek in lazy circles.
It would feel loving any other time but not right now. Not when you're trying to ignore the voice that whispers in the back of your mind that this is all you're good for. On your knees, mouth open. Finally useful. Finally worth the bother of loving. A voice that doesn’t come from any of them but sounds suspiciously like Geumjae's occupying your thoughts.
Jimin's hands are on your head too, rubbing against your cheek. Wiping away a little bit of spit on the corner of your lips. He clearly thinks you're deep in omegaspace. Interpreting your quiet softness for that sweetness and not this devastation. there is always a moment of quiet before a disaster, an intake of breath where everyone braces for impact.
“My good little princess, making your packmate happy, look at you pup,” Jimin croons. Clearly enjoying the pretty picture that you and Jungkook paint.
If anything, it's hearing that old pet name that makes you break. You're fine until you're not.
You're just so tired.
There is wetness on your face and it’s not spit or slobber or cum just tears. Little sniffles. your first one goes un-noticed by them, but not the second or the third. Jungkook freezes. And suddenly the fingers on your cheeks aren’t pulling you closer to Jungkook’s hips but off. Tilting your face. Jimin's hands quickly push Jungkooks away.
Jimin has stoney eyes, his mouth hard and discerning, lips parting. “Pup?” Jungkook’s already got his hand on your arm bunny eyes the soft opposite to Jimin’s. Jimin effortlessly transfers you from the floor to the couch. "Oh pup."
You wipe at your tears stubbornly. “Just one second, just give me a second and then I can keep going I promise, I’m fine- I’m fine” you keep repeating it, keep saying it but you smell so sour-sad. Your pout wobbles hot tears welling up threatening to spill over renewed.
But in what world would they ever let you cry during sex without pre-negotiating? In what world would they let you cry without comforting you?
“I don’t even know why I’m crying but I can't stop-”
No sooner have the words slipped past your lips are they pulling you up from the floor and into their laps, manhandled and small. You fight it a little. but Jimin crushes you to his chest and you sag. t
Jungkook has never gotten less turned on quicker, a packmate's distress takes so much precedence over this. Pulling up his pants. His pleasure isn't even a thought in the back of his mind. You take precedent.
Jungkook thought you knew that.
He feels helpless, helpless as you scrub angrily at your mouth, he uses his sweatshirt sleeve to wipe the saliva and spit from your mouth, then your tears from your cheeks. "Oh fuck- I'm so sorry- fuck I-"
And oh, you're crying into Jimin's chest now, real tears. Sobbing harder.
Jimin glances up and for a second he looks a little angry. He has every right to be angry at Jungkook for this. He's barely been here for like, a minute and a half. But the anger isn't welcome, you're too close to Jimin's scent gland, flinching when he starts to smell sour. Pulling back, so so so terrified, quivering in his lap.
"I'm sorry alpha, just give me a second and I'll get to you too-"
Now Jimin's angry for a whole new reason, angry at people he can't punish, people who are already dead. Jimin feels his anger in his hands. Struggling to stay gentle on you.
Oh fuck that.
Jimin’s fingers pinch at the back of your neck, scruffing you until your scent mellows out a little. "None of that now." He snaps, sharp shifting from concerned packmate to commanding dom effortlessly. "You'll do no such thing. You're going to stay right here until I tell you I'm done holding you."
Jimin's firmness is exactly what you need. You feel his power in his arms, crushing you, restraining you. Jungkook is not a dom, and that has never been clearer than right now. if he was than you would have never gotten into this predicament. "Can't you be good and do what Alpha asks?"
"Yes Alpha" you sob.
Jungkook looks at you guilty, eyes swimming with tears too. He's always been a sympathetic crier but he doesn’t let them spill. Even if Jimin spies them. His lower lip wobbles as he looks at you. Reaching out to hold you too and then snatching his hands back at the last second. If Jimin's touch is your remedy then Jungkook's is surely poison. “Why didn’t you-”
“I just- I just didn’t want to be bad.” You know what they’re about to say, that saying no wouldn’t have been bad but your brain is all terrified of it.
“M’sorry” Jungkook wants to say that there’s nothing you’ve got to apologize for that it’s him that should, but it’s difficult. It’s so difficult when you’re crying so hard it kinda feels like you might pass out. hyperventilating a little. He can do little more than loop his arms around Jimin's waist and trap you between the two of them, sandwiching you. Applying pressure. Holding you tight. In a way that has you instantly plummeting. Down past subspace, past omegaspace, where everything is dark and bland and nothing. Where you're nothing.
“M’sorry Koo-” He doesn’t trust his wobbly voice to speak as you sob out, “Don’t tell them, don’t tell Namjoon and Jin or Yoongi please- don't want them to worry. It’s not Koo's fault it's mine. I’m fine. m' just feeling off. I’ll be better alpha I promise.”
Luckily there is no one home. No one is home to hear any of this. Jimin has always been perilously unable to deny his girls their silly wishes. And if the idea of Namjoon or Jin knowing has you panicking anew then Jimin will take this secret to the grave.
Jimin soothes you with a happy alpha rumble, feeling exactly the opposite- wishing there was Namjoon or Jin to call for backup. This is clearly not normal crying. Jungkook surely couldn't have put you into subspace but somehow you're dropping. Leaning in to every word that graces Jimin's lips like you need the absolution he brings.
“But you’re already so good for us pup- already so good for saying no even though it was hard. Here. Lie out so we can hold you. Here.” It's what you wanted from the beginning someone close by enough to touch enough to cuddle.
Only this time it feels even less like you deserve it.
You make yourself as small as you can. Jungkook and Jimin alternate, kissing off your cheeks. Until you stop crying and fall asleep. Crying yourself back to sleep. You really were just sleep-deprived.
Jimin's got one arm around your waist, another cradling the back of your head. And only once he's absolutely sure that you are completely asleep does he hiss over the top of your head.
"Jungkook What the hell-"
"I asked, you know I asked. She said she was okay I swear-"
A whispered argument ensues, drawn out until the others come home. Their anger quieting at the sound of them, Yoongi softly calls your name. Mindful of the fact you could be sleeping.
When you wake up around dinner time you're non-verbal and pupish. There are too many people around for Jungkook to be able to pull you to the side and ask, to just talk this out. He watches you close at dinner, watches and waits for a chance to talk to you that won't come. You'll pretend you're asleep tomorrow when he wakes, just to avoid it for a little while longer.
If the others notice anything strange with you at dinner time no one broaches it. Of course, you don't speak at all. Answering their questions with shaken heads and careful nuzzles under Tae’s chin where you sit side by side with her. Your chairs pulled together so that they’re more of a bench. She smells so good- so Rosey that you press your face into her shoulder to avoid the other's eyes.
Never mind the fact that you don't smell like anything at all. Maybe you're dissociating too bad to smell like anything. So disconnected from your emotions that you can't feel them let alone smell like them.
After dinner you take an extra long in the shower so that by the time you exit the bathroom Jin has already scruffed Jungkook sleepy. He looks cute too. Pouting in his sleep, restless.
There's an extra soft nesting space carved out just beside him that he made special for you with a few pillows and his favorite nesting things. It will go unused.
That night, you don't bother trying to sleep.
~-~
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Devotion 🖤 II. Predator or Prey? (Ch 6)
CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader
Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?
Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.
*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*
⚠️PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE SERIES WARNINGS, ESPECIALLY: possessiveness, manipulation, Joel gets mean, Joel gets verbally and physically abusive.⚠️
LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE
PREVIOUS
II. Predator or Prey?
CH 6 (5.8k)
It’s two weeks into the New Year and you’ve been spending every day plotting and planning how to keep away from Joel. It’s not easy, especially since you don’t even have a bedroom door to keep his wandering eyes from staring at you while you get ready in the mornings, as he stands in the hallway in overbearing silence. Your task was made even tougher when Tess said he wouldn’t allow you to leave the house anymore for your daily chores.
You’re stuck inside this dusty old prison all day, awaiting his return. The day might go as usual and he’ll threaten to force feed you at meal time. Maybe it will be another glorious day of him digging bruises into your arms or throwing you against walls. What if he really changed things up and grunted all sorts of fucked up things in your ear while you brushed your teeth? Oh wait, he already does that.
As snarky as you try to be about it – lamenting your life as you drape yourself over the couch, passing the hours in silence and slowly going mad – the whole situation really stresses you out. You weigh your feelings of safety and security in this community with the vicious and unpredictable behavior you’ve been enduring in this house. Is it still worth it to stay here? Are you better off in The Valley or would you be better off out there, alone in the wilderness? You’re on edge all the time, never sure what’s going to set him off. You spend so much time thinking about him, every moment you’re awake really, just so you can try to avoid him as much as possible.
He used to be on your mind all the time, thinking about his body on yours, the warmth of his skin under your hands. You’d fantasize about a future with him and what that might be like, letting him protect you and take care of you. Now you think about if you’re always going to be this hurt by his duplicity, feel this raw about his deception. Deep down, in a place you don’t like to acknowledge, you still wonder if there’s any future for the two of you. You push that thought away to compose a plan for how to stay out of his way when he gets home for the day.
And yet, every night at dinner you sit right next to him, unable to escape, watching out of your peripheral vision as he stares you down with a hateful look in his eyes. There was a time when you thought that the scariest thing he could do was touch you without your permission. But now he touches you every day – with open palms and closed fists, clutching fingers and rough grips. You never even considered these kinds of touches as an option from the man who used to be so gentle and tender with you. That man is gone.
This day, however, looks like it might turn out alright when Sasha and Tess return shortly before sunset from a scavenging trip they made to a family lodge situated on a rocky outcropping a few hours hike west of The Valley. They pile their haul on the dining room table, emptying out packs and bags they came back with stuffed full, and a stack of books catches your eye.
“Who are these for?”
“Anyone,” Sasha answers while sorting the clothes by size into neatly folded piles. “There were a bunch in a makeshift library up there but most of the collection was damaged by water and mildew. There were only a few we could salvage.”
You stand still, staring at the books, not wanting to pilfer something that Tess and Sasha worked hard to collect for the entire Valley. Tess sees you hesitating and pushes the stack towards you.
“Go ahead, look through ‘em and read any you want,” she shrugs. “When you’re done we can put ‘em back in the community library.”
You lift the first book up, going through the stack slowly, not recognizing any titles. The first two are young adult books, their covers adorned with pennants for their high school team and smiling teens talking on the phone. The third is the 1994 National Electric Code Handbook and the fourth is a non-fiction book on the Native American tribes that once inhabited New England. But the fifth one makes you stop in your tracks.
The fifth book is your favorite book.
You turn it over in your hands, its dust jacket long since removed. The faded red hardcover is soft with wear, but the simple tree in gold foil on the front is still gleaming. The Secret Garden. Your eyes begin to sting as you recall the places your imagination used to take you to when you read this story, wishing as a child that you had a secret garden of your own to find, hide away in, and restore to glory. You kind of wish you had one now.
“You read that one?” Sasha calls over her growing piles.
“Yeah,” you whisper, your voice breaking, “It’s my favorite book.” You look up and meet her face, tears in your eyes. But she’s not looking at you. She’s looking past you, face solemn. Your smile disappears as you slowly turn around, already knowing what you’re going to see. You don’t look at his face. You don’t meet his eyes. You take trembling breaths as your eyes fall on the center of his chest, less than a foot distance between you. Joel.
Favorite book you’d said. Just like that. Offered it up like the most casual thing in the world. But would you tell him when he asked? Of course not. He gave you so much. He gave you food and shelter. He told you about himself – shit, he even told you about Sarah. But you wouldn’t tell him about a stupid fucking book, wouldn’t give him your fucking name, even after all this time. Wouldn’t give him what he needed.
You. He needed you.
You withholding little bitch.
He grabs the book out of your hands, turning it to read the title on the spine.
“Look at me,” he demands.
You don’t.
He doesn’t ask again. He lifts the book to your eye line, grabbing a chunk of pages in his right hand and yanking them out of the spine. He holds his hand up and releases the pages, letting them flutter to the ground, single sheets and some clusters still bound together covering your socked feet. The tears collecting at your waterline spill over and you let out a quiet whimper. He shoves the carcass of the book back into your hands and walks out of the room, a satisfied smirk on his face.
Tess follows him, pushing open the closing door of his office behind him.
“Why’d you do that to her?” she asks, stepping into the darkening room, the short winter day having just seen the sun set.
“Don’t give her any more books,” he snaps, ignoring her question.
“You made her cry–”
“Oh boo-fuckin’-hoo, she’s always cryin’.” Her eyes are adjusting to the dark and she sees him moving across the room.
“Joel–”
“No more books,” he shouts, turning to stomp back to where she stands. “She has a fuckin’ book and it’s out there sittin’ on the mantle,” he points at the wall, momentarily acknowledging the book he pretends he hasn’t seen remain untouched since Christmas, everytime he walks through the goddamn room.
Tess holds her hands up in defeat and backs out of the room, leaving him alone to pace and grumble to himself. She decides to make a plan that night, determined to find a way to snap Joel out of it and keep you safe in the meantime.
–
Alone again, Joel feels himself thickening in his pants and he wants to scream, wants to put his fist through the wall. He wants to shake you and slap you and squeeze you and make you look at him like you did before. You won’t look at him at all. Why won’t you fucking look at him?
There’s no moon in the night sky so even with multiple windows in this room it remains quite dark. He rounds his desk, bumping his hip into the corner as he throws himself into his chair. He pulls open a bottom desk drawer and withdraws an item he’s kept hidden under a pile of maps: a pair of your underwear. He remembers the night he took them, the week before everything went to shit. Before you looked at him like everyone else. Before you broke yourself open for him. Before his true self was revealed to you.
Before you hated him.
He shucks his jeans open and reaches into his pants, his dick already hard. He spits into his hand and begins stroking up and down, bringing your underwear to his face and taking deep inhales, setting a fast pace. As he takes whiffs, he opens his mouth, letting the heady scent of you permeate all his senses, rolling his eyes back into his head. He thinks about that night he pulled these down your legs, how you looked on all fours bared open for him and the way you rolled your hips, moaning his name. He thinks about what you tasted like when you came on his face.
He hisses, squeezing hard at the base of his shaft, suddenly aware that he’s about to come much too quickly. He slams the underwear down on the desk, cursing that he lets you affect him like this. He’s barely touched himself these past weeks, getting too angry every time he thinks about you and how badly he wants you, how you won’t give him what he wants. He’s neglected the aching hardness he awakes with each morning and ignored the other women knocking on his bedroom door at night, knowing it isn’t you on the other side. You won’t give him what he needs.
He wraps his hand around his shaft and resumes stroking, slowly this time, staring at the underwear he’d stuck in his back pocket after you begged him to take them off and keened when his mouth touched you. His eyes have adjusted to the dim room and he thinks he can see a stain on the gusset, reaching forward to brush his thumb along the fabric. His calloused finger scrapes across the dried remnants of your arousal and he groans loudly, squeezing his cock firmly again, willing himself not to come yet.
He watches his hand continue slow movements on his length, rolling his fingers along the underside of his head, over the tip, gathering the precum there to swirl and spread on his downward strokes. Why the fuck does he let you do this to him? Why does he let you get in his fucking head? He can’t control himself, he’s losing his goddamn mind. He should go back out there and grab you by the hair, drag you in here, and remind you how lucky you are to be here.
He looks over at the couch he used to sit with you on. He should throw you over that couch, pull your pants down past your ass and fuck you from behind. He’d grab the books he’d read to you off the shelf and smack your ass with them, listen to you cry out and whimper, hear your growing wetness as his cock pounds your perfect, willing pussy. He’d make you grovel for his forgiveness, make you beg him to let you come. He’d make you thank him for your Christmas gift. He’d make you fucking look at him.
That’s what he’d do.
He’d grab your face and make you look him in his eyes while you came, feeling the spasming walls of your cunt around him. He’d keep fucking into you, listening to you wail through your orgasm, watching your eyes roll back and your face go slack. He’d make you watch his cock disappearing inside you, covered with your creamy arousal as he hits that perfect spot deep inside you. The place he earned. The place you refuse to give him. He grabs the underwear off the desk and wraps them around his length, increasing his pace again.
The only sounds in the room are his panting breaths and the thumps of his fist hitting his pelvis with force as he pumps himself over and over. His head is thrown back when he feels the familiar tension in his balls and he brings his chin to his chest to watch his release darken the fabric covering his cockhead. He pulls your underwear off him with one hand and continues to jerk himself with the other, pressing himself down, aiming it so the white ropes pumping out of him cover the stolen garment. His breath hitches in his throat with short, desperate gasps as he squeezes the last of his climax into the cloth.
He clenches his hand around the underwear, letting his spend press between his fingers and run down his fist, dripping onto his denim-covered knees. What a fucking waste. Your denial, your refusal, your goddamn obstinance. Look where it gets him – coming into his hand like a pitiful virgin, as if he can’t get a woman of his own to fuck him. How dare you treat him like this, withhold yourself from him, have him resorting to these degrading acts.
You seem to forget how good you have it in the safety of his dominion, protected under his watchful eye. Maybe you forgot how ugly the world is out there, how cruel people can be. How many people in this world would kill to be in your place? How many women here in The Valley wish they were you, fortunate enough to be the object of his desire? You’re so fucking ungrateful. You need a lesson in how to behave, how to be more appreciative of him. You need to learn some loyalty.
–
The following Thursday you’re facing the front door, bundling up your coat for the walk to the meeting and waiting for Joel to come out of his office to walk with you since you’re not allowed to leave the house without him. You hear the door open but don’t look back until you hear an unexpected noise in the form of a female voice. Kerri is walking with him through the living room. They were in his office together.
It’s fine, you don’t care. You’re not jealous. You have no claim over him. He’s not yours. You don’t want him. He does whatever he wants and you can’t control it. So let him have it his way, you don’t care.
You catch him staring at you out of the corner of your eye but you don’t dare turn your head. You won’t give him the satisfaction. Behind you, you think you hear Kerri getting her coat and shoes on as well. Tess is wiping down the dinner table and sees the group of you gathered at the door.
“Kerri, where are you goin’, hon?”
“She’s coming to the meeting with me,” Joel answers for her. He said me, not us. Like you weren’t even there. You let a scowl take over your face. He’s being such an asshole. Tess doesn’t question him, probably for the best. You hear him huff out a laugh.
You look his way and see the smug grin on his face as he opens the front door and motions for you to go out of it. You don’t let it bother you. It’s fine that he’s bringing Kerri to this meeting even though Thursdays are supposed to be your meeting nights. It’s fine that they walk hand-in-hand behind you on the walk to and from the meeting. It’s also fine that he ordered her to sit in your usual seat next to him at the meeting and for you to sit on the other side of the room instead.
He doesn’t try to put his hands on you, he doesn’t chase you up the stairs. It’s fine. It’s what you wanted. You’re glad for it. So then why do you feel like your insides are on fire and you’re fighting the urge to spill them all over the ground? Back at the house Joel and Kerri head towards his office so you go to the kitchen to get some water and get away from them.
Moments later they’re coming into the kitchen and you hate the way your stomach rolls at the sight of them. Out of the corner of your eye you see her reach into the cupboard for a glass and you watch him push her against the counter, pressing himself into her ass. You just know he’s digging his erection into her. He used to do that to you. You used to like it.
A shiver goes through your body and you almost drop your glass, but as you recover you see in your peripheral vision that he’s watching you. Is he doing this to get a reaction from you? Is he waiting for you to cry again? You won’t give him the satisfaction.
“Goodnight, Kerri,” you say as you turn quickly and head out of the kitchen.
He grabs you before you can even make it through the dining room.
“Not gonna say goodnight to me?” He digs his fingers into the tender underside of your upper arm.
You hiss quietly in pain.
“You should know better than to be so rude,” he spits, bringing his face within inches of your own. “Seems like I need to teach you some fuckin’ manners.”
He lifts his other hand and swats your ass, laughing when you yelp in surprise.
“Well, I’m gonna go to bed,” Kerri says in the doorway.
She might as well be invisible for how Joel completely ignores her while he swats at you a few more times, mumbling how you’re such an ungrateful little cunt in your ear. You try to wriggle away and push him back but his grip only tightens. You’re reminded of a blood pressure cuff, the pressure and pain with which his hand cinches around you.
Has he been playing this charade with Kerri all night just to get a rise out of you? Was he always like this? You thought he was a good man; compassionate, hospitable, affectionate, genuine. Did he only show you enough of himself to lure you, to make you trust him? Was he lying the whole time about his true intentions? Were you really that gullible? God… he’s so fucking manipulative.
You don’t know what you’re thinking but the throbbing in your arm has your free hand scrabbling to get away and before you can measure the consequences of your actions, your open hand slaps across his face. Joel relaxess his grip on your arm immediately, the shock evident on his face, but before you can wrench yourself completely free of his hold, he throws you across the top of the table.
You come crashing down over the other edge, your limbs flailing and knocking over a chair on the way down. Before you can steady yourself enough to stand up on your own, he’s come around the table and put his hands on you again, lifting and shoving you against the front wall. Each hand grips your arm above the elbow, bracing your shoulder blades hard against the wall. His face comes to your neck and you feel him inhaling, feel his moist breath huffing against you, feel his stubble scraping you, feel his tongue dragging along you.
“Why the fuck are you making such a big deal of this bullshit, baby?” he coos. “The world ended. None of that old nonsense matters anymore.” He moves one hand up to your jaw, gripping your face hard.
“It matters to me,” you squeak through gritted teeth.
“All that matters to you is me, you understand?” He holds you so firmly that you can’t open your mouth to speak or even shake your head in response. “This is all that matters.” He begins to place gentle kisses along your pulse point, in opposition to the crushing embrace he’s got you in.
Eventually he loosens his grip on your jaw and, without hesitation, you take your free arm and place it over his sternum, shoving him backwards as hard as you can. Shock is quickly replaced by anger on his face. You hold your hands out in front of you, distracting him enough to stop his advancing aggression. You gather courage from somewhere deep inside you, lashing out for his callous disregard of you all night followed by this gaslighting manipulation.
“I’m so tired of you spouting your bullshit dogma just to try and get me to fuck you,” you seethe.
He raises his hand like he’s going to slap you but when you hold your head up, somehow managing not to flinch, he doesn’t follow through. Instead he lowers his hand to shove a single finger in your face.
“You think I want to fuck you?,” he bellows, “I don’t want to fuck you. I don’t want to want you. I don’t want to think about you every fucking second of every fucking day.” He reaches forward and grabs the flesh at your hips. You side-step out of his clutch and take a few steps towards the stairs before he grabs you by the wrist and holds it tight. “Do you see how fucking weak you make me?”
You walk backwards, trying to put distance between you but his wrap around your wrist is firm.
“You’re hurting me, Joel,” you mutter. He doesn’t let go.
“Look at me,” he orders. “Fucking look at me, goddamnit.”
You don’t.
Something inside him snaps. He yanks you closer with the hand around your wrist and pulls your body against his so that his chest is to your back, snaking his arms around you and cinching them tight. He scrapes his stubble hard along your neck and buries his nose in your hair, taking several deep inhales and groaning in between breaths.
His lower arm bands across your hips, digging into your soft flesh there while his other arm loosens and moves its way up your front. He grabs one of your breasts tight in his hand and presses his erection against your backside. You’re constricted tight, arms trapped as well, and unable to move away from him. You manage a breathy exhale of his name, meant to serve as a plea, but it can barely be heard.
“You can’t get away from me,” he growls in your ear. “You can never get away from me.”
He goes back to holding you with both arms, wrapped so tight that he knows it’s probably hurting you. You’re clearly struggling to breathe and even your feeble wriggling feels futile. Then he looks down and notices your struggling movements have shifted your sweater to expose the top of your shoulder. He recalls the mark he once sucked into your skin there, and the way it stayed on you for weeks. You need another reminder of who you belong to.
He moves his mouth to that same spot, baring his teeth, and bites into your flesh. Hard.
He barely hears your screaming over the pounding of his pulse in his ears, his own ragged and panting breaths, his drawn out, animalistic moan. Suddenly there’s tugging on his arms and he looks up to see Tess’ wide eyes staring at him, mouth moving. She must be saying something but he can’t make it out. Someone is yanking at his shirtsleeve on his other side and when he turns his head, teeth bared in a snarl, he sees Kerri recoil in horror.
Tess punches at his arms, claws at his neck, and tugs on his hair, finally managing to get him to loosen his arms enough to free you. She yanks you away from him and as she pulls you up the stairs you see him watching you from the bottom, eyes black, hair a mess, your blood dripping down the corners of his mouth. Tess drags you down the hall into her room, locking the door behind her. She puts a chair under the doorknob and tends to your wound with a first aid kit stashed under her bed.
She lets you sleep in her room that night. Joel doesn’t come for you.
–
The next evening you’re standing in the shadows behind the old ice skating rink, which is used as makeshift stables during The Valley’s Friday evening events. It’s off the main road, set back in the woods a bit, but you have a pretty good view of the town square from here. You can see people coming and going, see Joel shaking hands with them all, nodding while they talk to him but looking over their heads, probably searching for you.
“You’re gonna catch a cold.” You nearly jump out of your skin at Tess’ words. You didn’t even hear her coming. “I told you to wait inside.”
“It smells like horseshit in there. Besides, I’ve got this,” you say pointing to the knit scarf around your neck.
She just nods, knowing you have a scarf because she’s the one who put it on you. She helped you get cleaned and dressed for tonight since you spent all day in her room hiding from Joel. She looks you over once you’re all dressed and then you both look at the bandage she has taped at your shoulder, peeking out from under your shirt collar. She grabs the scarf out of her drawer and circled it around you several times, tucking the ends into your coat.
“Do you know Beth?” Tess asks abruptly.
“Beth?”
“Yeah, Beth,” she continues. “Short brown hair, she lives with Hank Mansfield’s family, down at the dairy farm.”
“Oh, Beth. Yeah, she comes with Hank to the Thursday night meetings,” you nod.
“Exactly. She used to be a seamstress,” Tess adds. “Did you know that?”
“No, I don’t think we’ve talked much.” You know you haven’t talked much because you spent most of the Thursday meetings staring at Joel’s lips and waiting for them to be planted on yours.
“She makes all her own clothes. She’s been helping the Mansfield’s too. I think she could help here in town if she lived closer.”
“Yeah I bet,” you reply.
“I was thinkin’, maybe you and her could trade rooms,” Tess answers your unspoken question.
“Trade rooms?”
“Yeah… she could have your room and you could go help out at the farm.”
“The fa–” you begin to question when her meaning hits you like a fist to the gut. You turn to look at her, a pinching pain behind your eyes, panic obvious on your face. “You want me to leave?”
“No, of course I don’t want that,” Tess immediately replies in a soothing voice. “I just think Beth could really help out here in town, but she’d need a room. And I thought maybe you might be willing to give yours up.”
“Give it up? I don’t understand.”
“I mean, you don’t have to live in that house if you don’t want to,” she nods towards the big house you share on the other side of the square. “It’s your choice. You can live anywhere you want.”
That doesn’t seem true. You don’t live at Joel’s house because you chose it. You live there because he invited you. He asked you. He chose you. You didn’t feel like you could say no and you’re pretty sure he wouldn’t let you choose somewhere else, especially not now.
“I don’t think he’d–,”
“No, it’s not his choice,” she interrupts you and repeats, “It’s your choice.”
“It is?”
“Of course,” she says without hesitation. “You could give Beth your room so she’d be able to help us here in town and you’d get a room at the Mansfield’s. You’d be able to help milk the cows. I hear a couple of them are pregnant, so there’d be babies this spring – get yourself a little change of scenery….”
Tess doesn’t want to seem like she’s overselling it but she really hopes the promise of baby animals tips this in her favor. She hopes that she’s getting the message across without having to say the actual words. I need to take you away from him, PJ. He’s going to keep hurting you, PJ. I’m trying to save you, PJ. She wants you to think that this was your idea, but mostly she needs you to agree to this. Right now.
“It’s far away though, isn’t it?” you say, staring in the direction of the town square now, where Joel is no doubt shirking his duties and obsessively searching for you.
“It’s far enough,” she replies, letting the implication remain unspoken.
“I– I think he’d be mad,” you whisper.
“It’s not up to him. It’s up to you,” she nods, a soft smile on her face when you meet her eyes again. Please, she pleads silently. “What do you want, PJ? Do you want to help me out? Give Beth your room?”
A long moment of silence passes, breaking eye contact and looking down at your feet shuffling them several times before looking back at Tess, a hint of sadness in your eyes, a touch of defeat.
“I– I could do that, yeah.”
“Great! That’s great,” Tess exhales, unable to mask her relief. She quickly reels back her emotions and expresses simple and stoic gratitude, as if it’s a run-of-the-mill thing that’s just been agreed to – no big deal. “Thank you PJ, that’s really nice of you.”
–
Joel stands next to Sasha, her cold hand clutched in his warm one, looking around the square. He’s waiting for everyone else to meet them in front of the bakery so they can all walk home together. He sees Tess coming down the sidewalk, walking towards him with someone who isn’t you. You must be with Rosie and Kerri.
“Joel, you remember Beth, right?” Tess asks him when she comes to a halt at his side, “Lives with the Mansfield’s out at the dairy farm?”
“Of course,” he nods his head, barely looking in their direction. “Hank’s daughter. Hi, Beth.”
“She’s not Hank’s daughter,” Tess corrects. Joel finally looks at them, giving Tess most of his attention and Beth a quick glance. “Beth has just been livin’ at the farm since she came into town with Olivier and his wife, from the Montreal Safe Zone?”
“Oh, sure,” Joel says, as if this isn’t brand new information, “That’s what I meant.” And his attention is diverted once again, scanning the park across the street, looking at the departing crowds from the night of fun festivities.
“She’s a seamstress, did you know that?”
Joel doesn’t even bother responding this time. Why would he know that Beth was a fuckin’ seamstress? Why would he have ever talked about that with Beth? He doesn’t think he’s ever talked to Beth about anything at all. Why would he fuckin’ care? He vaguely hears Tess saying something about staying with us a while and he hums in acknowledgement. Why is Tess bothering him with all this stupid fuckin’ information? He’s obviously busy looking for you.
His head on a swivel he sees Rosie and Kerri approaching from the other side of town. Wait, where are you? You were supposed to be with…
With Tess. You were with Tess. He turns to look Tess square in the eyes now. She has his full attention.
“Where is she?” he fumes.
“Like I was saying, Beth is a seamstress and she needed a room–”
“Who?” Joel sputters, not comprehending the words coming out of her mouth.
“Beth,” Tess repeats, motioning to the woman standing silently beside her. Beth waves awkwardly.
Joel whips himself around and takes off towards the house, dragging Sasha alongside him, not even fully realizing her hand is still clutched tight in his. He bursts in the door and lets go of Sasha, taking the stairs two at a time and entering the small, darkened room at the top of the stairs with no door. The sheets and blanket are fresh and crisp, the bed is neatly made. Five hangars swing empty from the curtain rod at the window, a half moon shining behind some scattered clouds and casting dim light through the sheer curtains.
He touches the empty bedside table. It used to be covered with books, leaves, and rocks you found interesting in shape or color. Things you collected when you walked together. Things you collected when you walked alone, after you stopped looking at him. Things that proved you were still here. That you were still his. Now they’re gone. You’re gone. Tess took you away.
He comes down the stairs slowly, Sasha standing just inside the dining room rubbing her wrist, the other women coming in the door. Tess stands at the bottom of the stairs with that girl whos’ not you at her side – Beth.
“What the fuck did you do?” Joel seethes. He reaches the last step and looks across the living room, his eye catching on the spine of the book he gave on Christmas, sitting on the fireplace mantle. It’s still here. You’re not.
“Beth needed–” Tess is cut off by a palm striking across her face.
She can’t say she wasn’t expecting a bad reaction from him, but she would have braced herself better if she knew it was coming right then. The slap sends her tipping sideways and she thinks she might even fall down except that Joel grabs the front of her shirt with both hands, keeping her from landing on the ground. He barks for everyone to go to bed and Tess watches Beth’s horrified face as Sasha takes her hand and pulls her up the stairs.
Tess knows he’s not done. She knows he’s going to keep going, keep hitting her, keep blaming her. She’s going to look like she got kicked by a horse tomorrow but it was worth it. He’s not hitting you. She can take it. She’s taken it before, from men with quick tempers. Joel will get his venom out tonight and tomorrow he’ll be remorseful and apologetic. Soon enough he’ll detox from you and eventually he’ll emerge from the haze, able to see clearly again. He’ll get his head on straight and be able to deal with things rationally.
At least that’s what she hopes. Everything depends on her being right. If he keeps going down the path he’s on now, she thinks this whole place – and everyone in it – is doomed.
🖤
NEXT
Thank you to my amazing editor, @papipascalispunk, for helping me with this series, and for both fully understanding and appreciating my direction with these two. 🫂You work so hard (for free) and I appreciate everything you do.
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#devotion series#cult leader joel miller#noxturnalpascal#ofc!reader#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal characters
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Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.
Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut
Warnings: SMUT, the forbidden quickie
Chapter Word Count: 3548
—-MDNI—-
A/N: ahhhhhhhh I finally wrote some spice! Sorry it took a while. This is a little tame I guess but we can work up to the extra lewd stuff
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Please read the below first:
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
I’m Not Your F*cking Maid
Chapter 6
The following day rolled around quickly and before we knew it there was only an hour remaining until the auction house charity event. The disturbing events of yesterday were pushed to the back of my mind, the boys respecting my wishes on not wanting to talk about it. Sam told us over breakfast that he’d managed to access the auction house database and add our names to the guest list for the party, making it easy for us to attend without getting caught out as uninvited visitors. Now back in my room, I was rummaging through my duffel and pulling out my evening attire: a long black dress made of soft satin that had a slit up to the hip on one side. The neckline was a deep v-plunge and the dress was entirely backless.
“I guess no bra for me tonight then,” I mumbled to myself, also pulling out a clean pair of black lace panties and a pair of closed toe, VERY high black satin heels that had a neat little buckle on the ankle strap. I was already showered and my makeup was already done so I dropped my towel and slipped into the dress, pulling the thin straps over my shoulders. I followed by pulling on my panties, stretching the lace over my hips so it wasn’t visible through the slit in the dress. If you didn’t know any better, it would look like I wasn’t wearing anything at all. I sat on the edge of the bed and put on the heels, securing them in place before standing up and doing a few practice laps of the room - wearing shoes this high was not a common occurrence for me. I finished up by dusting my skin with the same perfume I wore yesterday, breathing in the pleasant smell before tucking the bottle along with my rouge lipstick into my little black clutch. I fussed over myself in the mirror for a few minutes when I heard a knock at the door. Pacing over I flung it open to greet the Winchester boys, and when I did I couldn’t help but do a double take over the oldest brother. I hated to admit it but he looked good. REALLY good. He was dressed head to toe in black: a slim fitted suit, shirt and tie, all of which seemed to flick something on in my brain. His suit jacket hung open and beneath it the shirt was clinging to his well defined torso, the top two buttons straining a little.
“You scrub up well, Dean,” I said to him, trying to sound pleasantly surprised. Instead, I think I sounded incredibly flirtatious. Dean didn’t seem to notice though as I watched his jaw slacken and his eyes flit over my body.
“Uhhh-um yeah, thanks,” he said, clearing his throat a little as he stepped aside to let me out.
“You look great, (Y/n),” Sam said, making such intense eye contact with me like he didn’t know where else to look, his cheeks glowing a little.
“Thanks Sam,” I smiled up at him before locking the motel room door and trying to ignore the fact that Dean didn’t say anything. Back to being an ass I see.
“So (Y/n), you’re with Dean. It should be pretty simple: get in, get the hair pain, get out. With that many people at the event, we don’t want to risk anyone getting hurt so I'll be ready and waiting outside with everything we need to destroy it and put the ghost to rest,” Sam briefed us before carrying on, “I’ll head back to our room to get everything and I’ll meet you there - you guys get going,” he nodded his head to Deans car which was parked out front. Dean said a quick farewell and headed out and I did the same, giving Sam a wave as he turned to leave.
I climbed into the front of the Impala, running my hands over the plush leather seat.
“You really do have great taste in cars Dean,” I said, looking around at the immaculate interior. He hummed in agreement, putting his arm over the back of my seat as he reversed out of the parking spot. Those top two buttons on his shirt were not going to last all night. I crossed my legs, getting comfortable for the short journey into town - the satin of my dress falling open and completely exposing my thigh to Dean. I watched him take his eyes off the road and fixate on my bare skin, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. Returning his eyes to the road I saw his chest rise as he took a deep breath, a small but deep groan emitting from his chest.
“You ok?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow.
“I’m fine,” he rasped.
“Ok… you’re acting strange though,” I said, leaning on the passenger side door to watch the street lamps turn on.
“Can you blame me?”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
There was a few seconds of silence before he flicked on his cassette player and classic rock filled the car, bringing a smile to my ruby lips.
“Good taste in music too? I’ll be damned, you’ve got more of a personality than I thought.”
He scoffed a little before smirking, “there’s more to me than meets the eye sweetheart.” He looked over at me, green eyes piercing into mine with such intensity I suddenly felt a little warm. I looked away, quickly counting my lucky stars when I noticed we’d arrived.
Dean parked up and I reached for the door, however Dean stopped me from opening it.
“Wait,” his tone was authoritative as he reached a hand out to stop me, his rough fingers lightly grazing the soft skin of my thigh. Before I could even respond, he’d hopped out, slamming his door shut before striding around the front of the car to open mine for me. He held his hand out, which I grasped delicately and he pulled me to my feet.
“What was that for?” I asked, puzzled as he closed the passenger side door behind me.
“Just trying to keep up appearances for this shit-show,” he stated bluntly before he walked off ahead of me towards the front door whilst he left me to navigate the uneven cobbles in these death-trap shoes.
“Jerk,” I muttered under my breath, but he must’ve heard me because he turned around, sighed and held out his arm for me to take.
“Just ask if you need help,” he leaned in and said quietly, his face close enough that I could feel his breath on my skin. I sucked in a breath, which was a mistake as he smelt positively divine. He was filling my senses and I didn’t want him to.
We made it into the building with no trouble at all thanks to Sam’s hard work. The inside of the auction house was a grand spectacle indeed; with high ceilings, a chandelier made up of thousands of tiny pieces of crystal and two symmetrical mahogany staircases at the end of the entrance hall. It was busy, lots of people in expensive attire milling about and drinking equally expensive sparkly wine.
“Shall we get some champagne?” I turned and asked Dean, who chuckled slightly.
“You’re already more fun than Sam,” he said before whisking two flute glasses off a passing waiter and handing me one. We chinked glasses, laughing a little at how awkward all of this pomp and ceremony was for us before we both downed the expensive alcohol like shots. Dean winced slightly, handing his now empty flute back to the same waiter who gave him a concerned look.
“Aw damn, those bubbles - that shits wrong.”
“That’s because you’re supposed to sip it,” I laughed at him, placing my empty glass on an old polished oak sideboard.
“Then why did you neck it too if you knew?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows at me. I shrugged.
“To be honest I don’t know - I guess I wanted to lighten the old-money mood in here.” He nodded, seeming to understand where I was coming from. After that fiasco we made our way towards the immense curved staircases at the end of the room, Deans hand occasionally touching my exposed back as he guided me in front of him, making me shiver involuntarily. We ascended, making our way up and past people who were at the top of the stairs, idly chatting and leaning on the bannister - not paying us any mind as we turned down a quiet corridor. We walked quietly, the hum of chatting remaining behind us as we made our way down the dim corridor, looking out for the room number Sam had given us.
“Room 19, room 19, room 19…” I chanted to myself searching every door until we found the right one. Coming to a stop, Dean quickly knelt down and pulled a lockpick from his pocket. I watched in fascination as he inserted the device, ever so gently manoeuvring it with a look of pure concentration on his face. I couldn’t stop myself from looking over at him whilst he was unaware; looking at those focused and hooded dark green eyes, slightly parted lips that he wet with his tongue and large muscled shoulders that were almost as wide as the doorway. I didn’t want to admit it, but God damn he was attractive. There was a click and he stood up quickly, pocketing the lockpick and opening the door, hurrying me inside. I walked gingerly into the room which looked like a mixture between a study and a museum. There were large bookcases spanning the walls, sideboards boasting an array of intriguing items, all contained in secure glass cabinets, and finally a large leather-topped mahogany desk in the centre of the room. This place smelt old.
I heard Dean close the door behind him as he paced in after me, immediately scanning the room.
“Right,” he said, his tone stern and authoritative, “you take that side and I’ll take this side.” I nodded, immediately scouring every surface for our haunted item.
We must’ve been looking for around ten minutes when Dean called me over.
“Do you think that’s it?” He almost whispered, pointing to an item that I would definitely have described as a jade hairpin.
“Yup,” I whispered back, leaning slightly closer to him so I could get a better look. I felt him draw a sharp breath in before sighing slightly. “Can you pick this lock?” I asked, ignoring his antics and sticking to the business at hand.
“Yeah give me a second and I’ll get it open,” he stepped in front of me. Not wanting to get in his way, I walked into the centre of the room to where the desk was and leant against it, looking around at all of the bizarre items. Surely there are some other haunted things in here other than what we came for. My eyes eventually landed on an old gramophone.
“Oh that bitch is definitely haunted,” I mumbled to myself right as I heard Dean pop the lock on the glass cabinet. I watched as he wrapped the hairpin in a square of fabric before shoving it into his pocket and clicking the cabinet closed.
“Mission complete,” he said, a slight grin on his lips as he walked to stand in front of me. That grin fell from his face though when suddenly there were voices outside the door and keys rattling in the lock. We hadn’t planned for this. He looked at me in a panic.
“Kiss me,” I blurted.
“What?”
“I have a plan: Dean just fucking kiss m-” it was like I didn’t have to tell him twice before he had a hand in my hair and his lips were on mine. My heart started pounding and his mouth was hot against my cool skin. I hummed, sliding my fingers up his chest to grip the lapels on his jacket, pulling him further in towards me. Before I could get sucked into whatever it was that I was feeling, the study door flew open and two older gentlemen in brown tweed suits walked in, stopping in their tracks at the sight of us.
“Good heavens! What are you doing in here?” One of them exclaimed. Dean turned his head to look at the men, a smirk on his face and I couldn’t help but blush furiously at the sight of my lipstick that was now smeared on the corner of his lips.
“So sorry gentlemen, the door was unlocked so we just let ourselves in. I hope you don’t mind…” I watched, my eyes widening a little as he lifted his jacket slightly, showing the gun that was tucked into his belt. The men’s eyes also widened and they backed up towards the door.
“Yes, yes! Of course you did! Please, take your time. Just…” the man paused, his eyes darting to the precious items on his desk, “please try not to make a mess - it’s all I ask.” And with that they both left as quickly as they arrived, closing the door behind them. I let out a sigh of relief, looking up at Dean.
“Thank fuck… Dean I’m so sor-” I didn’t have a chance to think as Deans mouth was back on mine; rough and needy. I sat in shock for a second before being pulled back to reality when Dean held the side of my face, his fingers sliding up to tangle with my hair. I couldn’t stop myself from kissing him back, my mind racing and going blank simultaneously. His free hand ghosted up my exposed leg, touching so gently I could barely feel him. He soon decided though that gentle wasn’t working for him, and he gripped my thigh, his fingers digging into my soft flesh and making me gasp - his hands on my body were already working their magic as I couldn’t stop his name from leaving my lips.
“Dean…” I moaned. I can’t believe it - I had actually moaned his fucking name. He groaned into my mouth, obviously liking the sound of his name rolling off my tongue. Tearing his hand from my hair and gripping my other thigh, without warning and with rushed movements, he lifted me with ease so I was sat atop the desk.
“Wrap your legs around me darlin,” he said with a deep lustful tone against my lips. I whimpered involuntarily as I did as he said. He pried his mouth from mine and started to kiss elsewhere; my cheek, behind my ear… my neck. I ran my hands over his shoulders and up the back of his neck, running my nails over his scalp and making him shiver. I gripped his hair and yanked, forcing his head up. I locked eyes with him, his eyes no longer that brilliant green but now blown and black with lust. My own eyes were probably no different. His gaze fluttered from my eyes to my lips, and before I let him kiss me again I leant forward and pressed my lips to his throat, my tongue on his skin. It was his turn to moan as I reached a hand down and traced a finger up the hard weapon growing in his pants. His large hands moving from my thighs to my ass, gripping tighter than ever before as I seemed to be pushing all the right buttons. He slid me to the edge of the desk so my lace-covered intimates were pressing right against him, friction and pleasure commencing. I pulled my lips from his throat before tugging his face down to mine, instigating the finale. I spoke breathlessly over his lips, already craving the taste of him again.
“Are you gonna fuck me or what, Winchester?”
Dean practically growled, frantically fumbling with moving my dress aside. He hooked a shaky but skilled finger into my underwear, trying to pull it aside but the elastic wouldn’t allow for it. I began to tremble as his digits kept ghosting over my most sensitive area. He soon gave up with his first plan, and his second plan made my eyes roll into the back of my head. Dean pulled a large hunting blade from inside his jacket and slid the flat side against my skin and up my thigh until it was under the lace fabric. The ice cold metal made me shiver before he swiftly sliced the blade up towards him, cutting my panties to shreds as he repeated the motion on the other side.
“Fuck that was hot,” I panted as he put the blade away and captured my lips again, running his tongue over mine. I gasped suddenly when he dipped a finger inside me, curling it and caressing that soft, sensual cushion that was hidden away. When I moaned, he added a second finger, leaning away from me slightly so he could see what a mess I was beneath him. After a few moments of utter bliss, he pulled his fingers out, sticking them straight in his mouth.
“You’re fucking delicious,” he groaned, standing up straight to shimmy out of his jacket. I leant forwards, grasping his belt buckle, undoing it and pulling down his zipper. Slowly I reached in and pulled him out of his boxers, his rock hard manhood hot and heavy in my palm. He closed his eyes as I ran my thumb over the tip, guiding my hand up and down, up and down, again and again until he grabbed my wrist.
“Let go so I can fuck you ‘til you can’t walk,” he practically growled, making me weak. I leant back on my palms, watching as he lined himself up and then disappeared inside me in one earth shattering motion. My eyes rolled back and my lips parted as I locked my ankles instinctively behind his back, my heels catching on the gun still tucked into his pants. He started to set a rhythm as he fucked me into the desk, the wooden structure sliding back with every thrust he made. He had both hands firmly planted on the desk beside me and I gripped his forearms tight, my head starting to spin from the overwhelming pleasure. It didn’t help that Deans head had dropped into the crook of my neck and his heavy breathing was like music to my ears. He kissed the skin there softly, drawing a moan from my lips with the sudden tenderness. The pounding was speeding up, and he suddenly wrapped an arm around my waist, desperately trying to get closer - to get deeper. The need for release was building and I’d lost control of my voice; Deans name tumbling from my lips like a prayer. I pressed his lips to mine feverishly, his breath ragged as he managed to pant out;
“Shit, (Y/n) I’m so close… I’m gonna need you to cum for me…”
I whimpered at the sound of my name on his breathless lips and he let go of my waist, placing his large palm on my stomach and sliding it down until his thumb connected with that bundle of nerves.
“Shit-Dean-,” whining against his mouth I started to feel the tension in the pit of my stomach build - the feeling of him pounding into me and stretching me more than ever before combined with his thumb on the magic button was a recipe for a quick release. And Dean knew that. He was fucking me so hard now that the sound of wet skin on skin echoed around the room and the banging of the desk could surely be heard from out in the corridor- maybe even downstairs. That knot was tightening, and tightening, and tightening until:
“Fuck- Dean I’m gonna cum!”
“Fuck,” was all he managed to groan before I shattered around him, that knot snapping and sending me into probably the best orgasm I’ve ever had. As I tensed up I pulled Dean over the edge with me and he buried his face into my neck, breathing heavily and cursing occasionally.
We stayed like that for a few moments, regaining some clarity and returning to earth. He took a few deep breaths before standing up and pulling out, tucking himself back into his pants and doing up his belt as his cum dripped down my thigh. He couldn't seem to look away, even when he reached for his jacket on the floor and put it back on.
“Stay there,” he said finally, disappearing behind some shelves for a second before returning with a box of tissues. He helped me clean myself up, tossing the tissues in the bin as we attempted to get rid of the evidence.
“Are you ok?” He asked sincerely, concern in his eyes as he offered me his hand. I smiled a little bashfully, placing my palm in his.
“I hate to admit it but I feel great.”
He helped me down off the table, placing a hand on my waist to help steady me on my still trembling legs. We both stood in a comfortable silence for a few moments before realisation hit us both and we looked at each other with wide eyes.
”Oh shit - Sam!”
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Up Next:
Chapter 7
#dean x female!reader#dean winchester x you smut#dean winchester x reader smut#dean x y/n#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x reader#dean x you#dean x reader#dean winchester smut#dean winchester#smut#eventual smut#dean winchester enemies to lovers#enemies to lovers#slow burn
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girl at home | mat barzal | part 7
pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader
chapter summary: calista continues to put strain on mat and nora's relationship and shocking events unfold
warnings: angst and swearing and not edited
word count: 2k
authors note: @barzysbaby is officially a co-author on this story cause she comes up with genius ideas and helps me when I have writers block <3
also, all I have to say about this chapter is sorry. i can't even say happy reading because it won't be.
masterlist masterpost ask box requests are open
Despite Jax’s lecture, you’re struggling to accept Calista. It’s mainly because she seems hell-bent on taking on a step-mom role to Nora even though she and Mat have only been dating a couple weeks and Nora absolutely hates her. On the days Mat wants to spend with her, she refuses to if his girlfriend is tagging along. You hadn’t seen Nora throw a tantrum the way she did the first time Calista tried to go with them since she was a toddler. It’s concerning because you are worried that it will start to affect her relationship with Mat and that’s the last thing you want. You know that Nora adores him and in just the short month since you ran into him in the grocery store, they’ve formed a special bond.
You decide you need to talk to Mat about the situation so you leave a little early to pick Nora up. She spent the night at the Barzal’s and you know that Liana and Nadia brought her out for breakfast so Mat should be home alone and the two of you can have a civil conversation. When you knock on the door and Mat answers with a warm smile on his face, you feel a wave of homesickness wash over you. It’s been 6 years, but the smile he seems to reserve just for you never changes and you wonder if he even notices it.
“Hey,” he greets you, opening the door so you can walk inside. “You’re early.”
There’s nothing in his tone that should make you suspicious, but you have a feeling in the pit of your stomach. You follow him to the kitchen, sitting at the island and accepting a bottle of water from him. He sits next to you and there’s a comfortable silence before you break it.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” you say, looking anywhere else other than at him. You have no idea how to address the problem without it seeming like you’re trying to interfere with their relationship. You just need to explain that pushing Nora to be close to Calista isn’t going to work, and if he can’t accept that, there will have to be changes.
“Yeah, I actually had something I needed to tell you,” he mumbles. He isn’t looking at you, picking at his fingernails instead. It’s a bad habit he’s had as long as you’ve known him. It’s oddly comforting to see something that hasn’t changed.
You reach out and touch his hand lightly, and he stops and looks up at you. You’re not sure what’s allowed now that he has a girlfriend but he doesn't pull his hand away so you take it as a good sign.
“You first,” he insists so you nod and pull your hand away. His hand twitches slightly but you don’t let yourself read into it.
“It’s about Nora and Calista,” you say gently, trying to gauge his reaction. His body stiffens at the mention of them and you have a feeling this isn’t going to go as easy as you were hoping. The coward in you wants to tell him to forget about it and just go home but you have to think about Nora, and her future relationship with Mat. You’re not going to let Calista ruin it, even if it damages your relationship with Mat.
“What about it?” he asks and there’s a disinterested tone in his voice. It annoys you a bit because you need him to take this seriously.
“Nora’s not comfortable around your new girlfriend, Mat,” you explain, trying not to let your frustration show.
“Well, she’s gonna have to get used to her,” he argues and that sets you off.
“She’s six, Mathew. You can’t force her to just accept someone new in her life and be comfortable with it,” you snap, ignoring his face that’s reddening. “She’s also her own person, and deserves to have a say in who she wants to spend time with. You might be new to being a dad, but that is common sense.”
“Oh, here we go with the ‘new dad’ speech,” he says sharply. “When are you going to stop using that against me?”
“When you stop acting like one!” you yell, hating where this conversation is going. You had hoped that it would go smoothly, but you should have known it wouldn’t considering that the two of you can’t have a civil discussion without it turning into a fight.
“Well, I’m about to be one again!” he shouts and your body goes cold, processing the bomb he just dropped on you.
Your first reaction is disbelief.
“You’re fucking with me,” you say dumbly, staring at him as if you’re waiting for him to admit that he’s kidding.
Except he doesn’t.
“It’s not that hard being a parent, right?” he says dryly and you’re still in too much shock to hit him with a comeback.
You’re not sure what you were expecting him to tell you but it certainly wasn’t that he knocked up his girlfriend of three weeks. You just can’t believe that he would be so careless considering that he just learned about Nora.
“This doesn't change the fact that Nora doesn’t want to be around Calista,” you eventually say, standing up and looking at Mat once more before leaving. He doesn’t stop you from leaving so you go wait in your car for Liana and Nadia to get back from breakfast with Nora.
They must not know or they think you don’t know because they give no indication that they are aware that Mat’s girlfriend is pregnant. You quickly discuss how Nora did overnight and make plans to go out to dinner together soon. They don’t mention that you don’t include Mat in your dinner plans.
Nora is quiet on the drive home, staring out the window and only speaking when you ask her a direct question. Nadia had said she was well behaved and happy so you’re worried she’s upset about something. When you get home, you carry her backpack in and she trails behind you slowly. She flops down on the couch so you sit next to her, feeling relieved when she climbs onto your lap.
“Something on your mind?” you ask her, and she nods but doesn’t say anything. You don’t want to pry but you’re worried.
“Want to talk about it?”
She shrugs, tucking herself even closer to you. You sit in silence for a couple minutes before she finally speaks.
“Do I have to go see Mat on Wednesday?” she asks quietly, and you realize how quickly her relationship with Mat is declining. It’s exactly what you were scared would happen.
“Not if you don't want to,” you tell her softly. “Can you tell me why?”
She’s quiet again for a moment and then, “Calista is mean.”
“Mean how?”
You hear a sniffle and you want nothing more than to hunt Calista down-
“She said Mat probably isn’t my daddy.”
Your heart breaks because you can only imagine how confusing this has all been for Nora. She was introduced to Mat without knowing who he was, and then heard from somebody other than you that he is her dad and now Calista is putting false ideas in her head.
“Well, that’s not true,” you tell her. “Mat is your daddy, Calista is just confused.”
It’s not a proper explanation, but how are you supposed to explain to your six-year-old that Calista is a bitch? You’re beginning to question the woman's sanity.
Nora doesn’t say anything else and you realize she’s fallen asleep so you put her in her bed and go back to sit on the couch. You really don’t want to talk to Mat yet, but you need to tell him what his girlfriend said to Nora because maybe he’ll realize why your daughter doesn’t want to be around Calista.
Before you can text Mat, you get a message from Liana asking to meet for lunch tomorrow. You can’t help but wonder if she has an idea about what's going on so you agree and set up a time to meet.
Maybe you’ll get some more insight.
. . .
The next morning, you drop Nora off at day camp before going back home to get some work done before you meet with Liana for lunch. You’ve been waiting for a text from Mat so that you don’t have to message him but he’s been radio silent. Something feels off about the entire thing but you’re probably just still in shock.
Liana is waiting when you arrive at the restaurant and you search her face for any indication that she knows anything but she just smiles at you when you sit across from her.
“Is Nora at her day camp today?” she asks, browsing the menu even though you know she already knows what she’s going to order. The two of you always go to the same restaurant when you get together.
You nod in confirmation, setting aside your menu and watching her face carefully. You wonder when Mat plans on telling his family about his girlfriend's pregnancy and what their reactions will be. You never knew how they reacted when they found out about Nora, but you’re guessing this is going to be much different.
“Did you guys have any plans today?”
She frowns, shaking her head. “Mat said he had something planned with Calista?”
You can tell she’s being careful of what she says because she starts picking at her fingernails - the same bad habit Mat has.
“I think something’s going on, but I don’t know exactly what,” she says quietly. “He’s been really secretive the past week and Calista has been around more than usual.”
So she doesn’t know.
“Why don’t you talk to him?”
She shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know if he’d tell me anything. Honestly, I don’t understand where their relationship came from. She’s been his friend for a while, but all of a sudden they’re dating,” she says. “He might open up to you.”
Not likely, you think but don’t say out loud.
“Maybe,” you lie. Mat might have a conversion with you, but it definitely won’t be a heart to heart about what’s going on with his girlfriend.
“Anyways, what’s new with you?” she asks, and that’s the end of that conversation.
Now, all that’s left is to talk to Mat.
. . .
Much to your surprise, Mat doesn’t argue about meeting up to chat. You agree to meet at your apartment while Nora is at your moms house. He’s late, not showing up until after 8 o’clock that night but you don’t say anything, not wanting to start an argument over that. He doesn’t smile when you open the door but he doesn’t look mad either. His expression is carefully neutral.
“Do you want a drink?” you ask, mostly because you need a drink if you’re going to talk to him about everything that’s going on. He shakes his head, sitting on a chair instead of the couch and you know it’s to put distance between the two of you. So, you settle on the couch and wait for him to say something but he’s silent, staring at the floor.
“Listen,” you begin but he cuts you off.
“I get that you don’t like Calista, but she’s going to be around. She’ll probably come back to New York with me but we’ll be back for holidays and during the summer,” he says. “I don’t understand why Nora doesn’t want to be around her, but you’re right-”
You cut him off. “She told Nora that you’re not her dad.”
He looks at you and frowns. “She wouldn’t do that.”
“So you’re saying Nora lied?”
“No,” he says defensively. “Maybe Nora misunderstood her.”
“She didn’t.”
“Calista wouldn’t-”
“Mathew, your girlfriend told our daughter that you’re not her father,” you say sharply, cutting him off. “I don’t want her near Nora anymore, and if you can’t accept that, then maybe you need to take a step back and rethink your priorities.”
You want to say you’re surprised when he gets up and leaves without saying another word, but you’re not.
You used to think that you knew Mat better than anyone, but it turns out you really didn’t know him at all.
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#hockey imagines#allies writing#nhl fanfiction#hockey fanfiction#nhl imagines#hockey imagine#mat barzal x reader#mat barzal imagine#mat barzal fanfiction#mat barzal fic
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Don't Tempt Me (Don't Blame Me, Chapter 2)
Emily Prentiss x Reader
Summary: Emily knew it was wrong. She knew you were the most dangerous woman the BAU had ever seen. Yet, she couldn't seem to stay away from you.
Chapter 1
Warnings: Regular CM stuff
Words: 3.3k
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EMILY STARED at herself in the mirror. Her hair was perfectly curled with bangs sitting just above her eyebrows. The black dress she bought hugged every curve of her body and showed off her toned legs. Emily knew she looked good, but hated the small part of her that wanted to look good.
A knock on the door made Emily tear her gaze away from the mirror. "Come in!" The brunette called and a couple of seconds later Hotch opened the door and walked into the locker room. "You sure you're up to this?" The unit chief asked, a hint of concern laced his signature frown.
"Yes Hotch, I am the one that suggested it," Emily reminded him as she walked to her locker to grab a pair of earrings. "I know, just double checking," Hotch said. He wasn't exactly enthusiastic about this plan, if he could even call it that. It had been less than 12 hours since Emily suggested taking Y/n out on a date. How all of this transpired so quickly was still a mystery to Hotch. There was a higher probability of things going wrong than right, but he knew they had to act fast before Y/n left DC.
"Did Garcia find anything else?" Emily asked as she finished putting her small, silver hoops in.
"Well, she's using a burner phone to text you so we can't trace her. And we can't find her in any database with just a first name, plus it could be fake anyway." Hotch said as he leaned against the frame of the door. "So, in short terms, we have absolutely nothing." Emily sighed and Hotch nodded apologetically.
"We do have her profile though. And up to this point, she's only ever killed men." Hotch offered and Emily couldn't help but laugh, "She's still an unpredictable, high-functioning psychopath."
"I know, I just..." Hotch trailed off, knowing that there wasn't anything to say to comfort the agent in front of him. "Don't let your guard down and don't do anything stupid." He added.
"Me? Do something stupid? Never." Emily said as she closed her locker and Hotch scoffed before cracking a rare smile. "The cars ready for you," He said getting back on topic, "Derek's going to be there and I have five other undercover agents scattered throughout the bar."
Emily nodded as she gathered her belongings and followed Hotch out the door. "Do you have a plan for when you get in there?" The unit chief asked as the pair walked into the elevator. "I'll make her wait for a little, maybe have Derek talk to her. Get her warmed up a bit and then take her down when she least expects it." Emily said.
"That's it?" Hotch asked slowly, already hating this plan more and more.
"Well, there's still a chance Y/n knows exactly what she's walking into. And if she does then I'll press the button" Emily said as she held up her wrist. Penelope had given her a bracelet with a small button on it that would alert the team if she pressed it. "I know what I'm doing though, trust me on that."
"Okay, but if at any point I think things are going south I'm sending SWAT in," Hotch said seriously and Emily nodded in agreement.
As they walked out of the elevator and to the car Emily felt her phone buzz. She pulled it out of the bag, already knowing who the message was from.
Y/N (6:03 PM)- I can't wait to see you again, Emily.
Emily let out a shallow breath as she reread the message and then pocketed her phone. As soon as she got into the car she closed her eyes, trying to gather herself. She was no stranger to being undercover. In fact, this wasn't even her first undercover case with a serial killer. But it was the first time she had to go undercover as herself. No fake identities or new personas, just regular, old Emily Prentiss. So this should be easy enough, right? Well, at least Emily hoped to God it would be.
●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●
Y/n sat at the bar counter in the same black pantsuit from this morning as she waited for Emily to show up. The brunette had sent her the address to one of her favorite bars, and so far Y/n had been impressed. Although, it was currently 6:40, which meant that Emily was ten minutes late but Y/n wasn't too upset.
"Now what is a pretty lady like you doing all alone?" A man asked as he slid into the chair next to Y/n. The woman turned her head and was face to face with Derek Morgan. She stared at him, eyes narrowing, and Derek had honestly never felt more scrutinized by someone's gaze until now.
"I'm waiting for someone," Y/n said, her hard look quickly turning into a smile and Derek was surprised by how genuine it looked.
"I wouldn't make you wait," Derek said with a boyish smile as he leaned closer, his knees bumping into Y/n's as he swerved his chair more in her direction. Derek didn't know what he was expecting, be he did not expect Y/n to place a delicate hand on his knee, "I suppose I have time to kill," She said thoughtfully. "I'm Y/n."
"Derek," The agent said as he placed his hand on top of hers.
"Ruler of the people," Y/n murmured as she tilted her head slightly.
"Excuse me?" Derek asked, confused as to what she was saying.
"The name Derek. It means ruler of the people," Y/n said as she removed her hand and placed it in her lap. She once again eyed the man up and down and Derek, who usually loved the attention from women, was starting to feel uneasy.
"The meaning behind a name is just as important as the name, don't you think?" Y/n asked and Derek nodded slowly, "Yeah, I guess you're right."
"Now, are you going to buy me a drink or are you merely gracing me with your presence?" Y/n asked, her tone sickly sweet even when it was full of sarcasm.
"Oh right," Derek said shaking his head. He couldn't even comprehend how a two-minute conversation was already throwing him off his game, "What do want?"
"Two Old Fashioned's." Y/n smiled and Derek tried not to read into it the fact that that was one of Emily's favorite drinks. Derek waved the bartender down and ordered the drink. When Derek turned back to Y/n he saw that she was surveying the bar, obviously looking for Emily, although the intentions behind her eyes were still unknown to the agent.
"Are you sure you're not getting stood up?" Derek joked and Y/n turned to look at him with a slight eyebrow raise. "I don't get stood up," She said seriously and Derek believed it.
"Two Old Fashioned's!" The bartender said as he placed the drinks on the counter in front of them. From the corner of Derek's eye, he could see Y/n smile as she looked at the door. As soon as he was about to grab the drink, Y/n's hand cut him off and grabbed both of them.
"Sorry to cut this short Derek, but it seems that my date has arrived." She smiled as she stood up.
"Wait that was my drink-" Derek started before he was cut off by Y/n, who was behind his chair, leaning over to whisper in his ear, "Not anymore."
Derek hated the way he tensed up but that only made Y/n laugh softly. "We should do this again sometime," Y/n murmured before pulling away and walking to the middle of the bar. Even though he was now nervous for Emily, he couldn't be more relieved to be away from Y/n. There was something about the woman that Derek couldn't shake.
"I was beginning to wonder when you would show up." Y/n smiled as she shamelessly looked Emily up and down. The brunette just shook her head apologetically, "Sorry! I got stuck at work." She said as the two women made their way through the crowd.
"You look gorgeous," Y/n complimented as she fell into step with the brunette. Emily smiled as her hand easily found its way to Y/n's lower back as she guided her to a table in the corner of the room, "So do you," Emily said and she wasn't lying. The black suit fit Y/n perfectly and it was one of the reasons Emily had been so drawn to her this morning.
"I thought it was a slow day," Y/n threw over her shoulder. "I thought so too." Emily chuckled as they found a table, her hand dropping from Y/n's back as she reached for her drink. She briefly took note that it was her favorite drink, but she also knew that they had a similar taste in coffee so she didn't want to read into that much.
"So what is it you do, Emily?" Y/n asked as she took a sip of her drink.
"I'm an accountant with the firm a couple blocks away," Emily lied easily, "And you?"
"I'm a writer." Y/n smiled and Emily tilted her head slightly, "Really?" She asked, not expecting that to have been the younger woman's answer.
"Yes, well, I'm a ghostwriter if you want to get specific," Y/n answered and Emily frowned, "What does that mean?"
"I write stories anonymously and sell them to authors so they can put their names on them," Y/n said.
"So you do all the work but don't get any credit?" Emily asked, extremely intrigued if the woman in front of her was telling the truth. Although it did make sense, Y/n didn't profile as a narcissist.
"I do the work and get a big paycheck, darling. I love to write but I don't want the fame that comes with it." Y/n said and Emily brushed her finger against the younger woman's knuckles, "So I take it you're pretty successful. Who do you write for?" The agent asked, suddenly wondering if she had ever read one of Y/n's books.
"I'm afraid that's classified."
"I'll have you know I am nothing if not persistent," Emily grinned, "You went overseas for your job, right? So it's not an American author." Emily pointed and Y/n shook her head amused, "Alright, enough about me," Y/n said as she grabbed onto the brunette's hand, "Come on. Let's dance," She smiled as she began to drag Emily to the middle of the bar.
"Already?" Emily practically yelled as she followed Y/n. The brunette naively hoped that they would have talked longer. It was kind of part of her plan but it seems like that was out the window now.
"It's never too early to dance," Y/n said as she pulled Emily flush against her in the crowded room. Her hands went to Emily's hips as the brunette threw are arms lazily around Y/n's neck. She couldn't help but stare into Y/n's eyes. Her gaze was soft, eyes reflecting the flashing lights of the bar, and Emily couldn't help but get lost in them. There was something innocent about Y/n's eyes and that was what pulled Emily out of her trance. Because Y/n wasn't innocent, actually she was probably the furthest thing from innocent. Emily took a deep breath and tried to refocus.
"I never got the chance to finish my drink," Emily said as her body swayed to the music and Y/n followed suit.
"I didn't take you for someone who needs a drink to have fun," Y/n said as she pulled Emily impossibly closer, their noses were less than an inch away. "I'm not," The brunette said, tilting her head and she realized she would have the perfect angle to connect her lips to the soft ones in front of her. Not that she was going to, or wanted to,Emily reminded herself.
"Oh yeah? Prove it." Y/n smirked as her thumbs brushed against Emily's hipbones. As soon as Y/n did that she felt herself being flipped around so that her back was right up against the brunette's front. Emily snaked her arms around Y/n's waist and hooked her chin on Y/n's shoulder. "Don't tempt me," Emily murmured against the shell of Y/n's ear, and the agent couldn't help but revel in the way Y/n shivered. For the first time tonight, Emily felt like she was the one in control.
"It's fun to rile you up though." Y/n smiled as turned her face towards Emily, her nose brushing against the side of Emily's cheek.
"You couldn't handle me riled up." Emily chuckled, although her eyes betrayed her when her gaze focused back on Y/n's plush lips for a brief second. She had hoped Y/n hadn't seen it but of course, she wasn't so lucky.
"Was that a challenge? Because I'll have you know, I love a challenge." Y/n said as she placed her hands on top of Emily's and leaned further back into her. Emily knew this was her chance, granted it came a lot sooner than she thought. But her trained eye saw the opening so she knew she had to take it, "Let's get out of here," Emily murmured into Y/n's ear, "I'll show you what a real challenge looks like." The brunette continued and Y/n immediately unwrapped herself from Emily's arms and dragged the both of them toward the bathroom.
Emily made brief eye contact with Derek and he raised his eyebrows silently asking if everything was fine. She gave a slight nod, her code to let him know she was fine and to not approach unless she called for backup. The brunette quickly tore her attention away from Derek and to her hand that was interlaced with Y/n's.
Before they could even make it to the bathroom Emily felt herself being pushed against a wall and Y/n's soft lips claimed her own. She was taken back for a second but her hands still instinctively shot to Y/n's hips. It was the way that Y/n's hands made their to Emily's hair and tugged slightly that Emily was brought back to reality.
She immediately kissed Y/n back, loving the way she could taste the slight hint of citrus. Wait, not loving, she was only doing this so she could arrest Y/n. Emily reminded herself, even though it was very hard to think about anything other than the Y/n's lips felt.
Emily pulled Y/n even closer, practically lifting the woman as her tongue trailed along Y/n's bottom lip. "Let's go back to my place," Emily said, pulling her head away for a brief second and trying to ignore the beautifully kiss-swollen lips in front of her.
"I have a better idea," Y/n murmured as she connected their lips once again, her kiss was hungry and passionate but soft at the same time. Emily tried not to enjoy it, she knew shouldn't. Y/n was a serial killer after all, but did she have to be so good at kissing?!
Emily felt herself being pulled away from the wall but her lips never left Y/n's. She didn't even know where they were going until she heard a door slam shut and a lock click. The agent internally cursed herself for not being attentive enough, but she could still fix this.
"I think we can do better than a quickie in the bathroom," Emily said as she easily flipped the two of them around, pinning Y/n to the wall by her hips. The younger woman gasped in surprise before looping her arms around Emily's neck. Y/n smiled as she started placing kisses along the brunette's defined jawline. She nipped at the spot just below Emily's ear and she tried her best to suppress the moan that wanted to leave her lips.
"Not much of an exhibitionist, Agent Prentiss?" Y/n said as she pulled back and gave Emily a sadistic smile.
Emily felt her stomach drop. She should have known this was too easy. Should have known the second laid eyes on Y/n in the bar earlier. But somehow she couldn't think straight whenever she looked at the woman in front of her.
"What? Do you really think I am that stupid?" Y/n said with a pout as she studied the way Emily's face hardened. "That I would unknowingly walk into your so-called trap?" Y/n chuckled as she twirled Emily's curls in her hands. "And then you had Derek come over and flirt with me? It's quite comical how predictable you are."
"Why'd you come then?" Emily asked, trying to figure out the right moment to call for backup.
"Like I said earlier, I love a challenge." Y/n grinned before flipping them so quickly that Emily didn't have time to fight back before her back hit the wall. "But right now, it's proving to be rather easy," Y/n sighed as she traced Emily's bottom lip, "You and your team were supposed the be the best. But I have to say, I am rather unimpressed."
Emily immediately pulled her head away even though she had nowhere to go since she was still pinned to the wall. "So you knew who I was this morning at the coffee shop," Emily stated, not knowing if that was worse or better at this particular moment.
Y/n eyes lit up as she leaned closer, "No, I didn't know who you were. That part just was luck."
"So lucky," Emily muttered under breath.
"As soon as I realized who you were, I cursed myself for being so sloppy," Y/n said, ignoring Emily as trailed her finger across her collarbones, "But then I realized that meeting you was a blessing in disguise. Because now I know what I've been missing for all these years."
"And what's that?" Emily asked as she quickly used all of her momentum and knocked both of them to the floor. Y/n's back collided with the ground and Emily straddled her hips to keep her down. The agent pinned her arms above her head and Y/n barked out a laugh as she stared at the woman on top of her, "Bold. I like it."
"Answer my question" Emily gritted out, as her hands tightened against Y/n's wrist.
"This. I've missed this." Y/n said she leaned her head up, now inches away from Emily's. "The hunt. It's exhilarating. And I am definitely not going to complain about being pinned down by a very beautiful woman." Y/n grinned and Emily just shook her head. "Well, the hunt's over." She said as she leaned closer, their noses almost touching. "We have almost fifty agents waiting out there for you. The only way you're getting out of here is in cuffs." Emily continued and Y/n surged forward so their lips were almost touching, "Don't threaten me with a good time, Agent Prentiss."
Emily stared into Y/n's eyes, not liking the look in them. There wasn't an ounce of fear for someone who had just been caught. The agent racked her brain with the younger woman's profile, she knew she wouldn't go down without a fight. Knew that everything she did was unpredictable but also meticulously planned. There was no way someone of this caliber would walk into a trap and not have a backup plan.
"I can see the cogs in your brain turning, Agent Prentiss." Y/n grinned and Emily shook her head, "What else are you up to?" She asked, her eyes never leaving the woman's under her.
"Reach into my back pocket and find out," Y/n said as she wiggled her hips under Emily's weight. Emily rolled her eyes as she took her weight off the younger woman's torso and immediately hauled them both to a standing position. The agent made quick work of repining Y/n's arms behind her back.
She carefully reached into Y/n's back pocket and pulled out a small device. Emily furrowed her eyebrows as she got a better look at it and realized there was a small timer on the front that appeared to be counting down from 2 minutes.
"What is this?" Emily asked as she lifted the device to the other woman's eyes.
Y/n smiled as her eyes went from the device to Emily. "What? You've never seen a bomb detonator before?"
#emily prentiss#emily prentiss x reader#jennifer jareau#derek morgan#aaron hotchner#spencer reid#david rossi#criminal minds#emily prentiss x female reader#emily prentiss fanfiction#emily prentiss x you#emily prentiss x y/n
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Midnight Fang — Master List
Summary: The werewolves thought they found all their mates. They never imaged they’d met another, let alone that she’d be a vampire.
Warning: Blood, Alcohol, Sex, Breeding, Mate Au Supernatural AU, Poly Au, Unrequited Love, Rejection, Hurt/Comfort, Other… (Specific Warnings not mentioned will be made in each chapter this is just a small none specific overview)
This Series is in the process of writing.
_____
• Prologue <-
Chapter 0.5
(^ Note at the end explaining)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
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PS, I’m trying to make this as clean and easy to follow as possible. I hate FFs where you read a really good one and you can’t find the second or fifth part bc it’s lost somewhere on the blog.
#werewolf! bts#bts x fem!reader#bts x you#poly bts x reader#bts x reader#vampire reader#supernatural au#jimin#junkook#yoongi#hoseok#jin#taehyung#namjoon
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Tardy, part 4
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11
Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader
Summary: You take Tara on the long awaited first date, how will it go?
Warnings: Suggestive themes, so much fluff you might throw up, teeny bit of angst
Word Count: 2.5k
A/N: This is purely a filler chapter because R and Tara deserve a break, here’s some fluffy shit. I’m not really sure how I feel about it, but as always; thank you for the love!
In the end, it doesn’t take you that long to plan the date.
It might be because you’ve been dreaming about this moment for months, or it’s just that easy being with Tara.
There was a famous festival happening soon, and you’ve always wanted to take a girl there. Do all the cliche things, win her a bear; ride the Ferris wheel; make out in a secluded alleyway.
“So where are we going?” Tara muses as she sidles close to you.
You raise an eyebrow at her, “That desperate already?”
She rolls her eyes, “I think we established that already.”
“What are you two lovebirds whispering about?” Mindy asks from the couch. Sam’s eyes immediately narrow.
Please don’t mess this up for me, Mindy.
“Oh nothing, just talking about how hot YN looks today,” Tara answers quickly, smirking as you turn red.
Sam grimaces at her statement, mumbling something not-so-nice under her breath.
Chad’s also been particularly gloomy today, after overhearing a conversation between Mindy and Tara about your date.
He’s shut off every attempt Tara’s made at small talk, shooing her off with a not-so-subtle glare.
You can see it in her stance, her shoulders somewhat sagged; she’s burdened by it.
You wait until Tara leaves (gets forced) by Sam to go for a grocery trip.
Sam claims it’s for “sister bonding time”, all the while Tara is screaming and crying trying to get out of her sister’s grip.
You manage to calm her down by pressing a kiss to Tara’s forehead and whispering that she should go. She pouts but hesitantly leaves.
As soon as the door closes, you turn and make your way to Chad in the living room. Mindy gets up, shooting you a look before leaving you guys alone.
You sit beside Chad on the couch, feet bouncing; eyes staring at the ceiling.
He’s silent; too silent for your liking.
A few minutes pass before you think that maybe you should bail, you didn’t have to do this right now.
“Did you have to mess everything up?” He finally speaks, voice hot.
You roll your eyes, of course, he was going to be dramatic.
“Tara picked me. Respect her opinion bro.” You say, malice laced with the last word.
He doesn’t budge, ”She would’ve picked me if you didn’t swoop in. I was this close.”
He makes a gesture with his hands, pinching them together. You feel the anger rising in you steadily.
But for the sake of Tara, and peace altogether; you don’t make a scene.
“The heart wants what it wants, I’m sorry.” You whisper.
Chad groans, but you can tell he softens up a bit; body language opening up.
He hesitates before speaking again.
“I’m- I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean to fall for Tara. I just couldn’t help it, you know?”
He looks like he’s fighting tears. You can’t help but feel bad; he was just a lovesick boy.
You sigh and pat his back gently.
“I know,” You murmur, “And I get it, truly I do. But Tara’s made up her mind, and I’ve certainly made up my mind; so stop acting like a man-child and be a good friend. She’s going through a hard time right now.”
Your words linger in the air before Chad breathes out heavily.
“You’re…you’re right. I hate to admit it but you’re right.” He says it like he’s just realizing it now himself.
“I’m sorry too, I know it’s hard to see happen right in front of you..” You trail off, reminiscing on a certain someone from your past. You snap out of it when Chad speaks again.
“I won’t be a jerk to Tara, I promise. Can’t guarantee I won’t be a little snappy to you though.”
You breathe out in relief, nodding and sticking your hand out to him.
“That’s fair.” Is what you say, and he takes you in a firm handshake. Laughs a little bit.
“I can’t believe Tara likes a dork like you.” He says, gesturing to your hand with a nod of his head.
You chuckle slightly.
“I can’t either.”
-
The butterflies are fluttering so wildly in your stomach at this point you think they might just force their way up and out your mouth.
It’s the date.
You fidget with your fingers, sitting on the couch waiting for Tara to come out. You check the time on your wristwatch, you guys have to move soon if you want to fit all the activity plans you’ve set up.
“Tar? You done?” Your voice cracks a little, and you’re extremely grateful Tara can’t see your face right now.
You cough to hide it.
“Wait! I’ll be done in five.” She yells. You would believe her if it wasn’t the millionth time she’s said it in the past hour.
“Yeah, five hours.” You mumble.
“Shut up!“
Your ears perk up, blushing in embarrassment that she heard you.
You sit obediently until Tara opens the door, dressed in black overalls with a white t-shirt inside.
It’s not much, but it’s not like you have to do much when you look like that.
Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel your heartbeat race impossibly faster.
“You done? Or are you just going to keep gawking at me til I make you move?”
God, she was annoying.
You shake your head, snapping out your love-filled daze. “Yeah yeah, let’s go superstar.”
The drive there calms you down a bit. The minute you got into your car Tara had taken hold of the AUX, happily DJ-ing for the trip.
You’re quite the music freak, but you didn’t mind her controlling it this one time.
You knew it was worth it when you watched her scroll through her playlist, eyebrows furrowed; a slight frown on her face in concentration.
God, she was adorable.
You blink, surprised by your own thoughts. Jesus, this was worse than you thought. This girl had you saying shit like that?
Tara finally stops scrolling and presses one triumphantly. Glue song by Beabadobee and Clairo starts playing.
It’s a cute song, and it relaxes your nerves and helps you loosen up.
By the time you’re there, you feel normal; good even. It’s just another day with Tara, comfortable, and loving.
It’s hard not to smile like an idiot, taking her hand in yours and dragging her over to the carnival opening.
It’s amazing. The lights, the endless games, the mouthwatering food.
You stand agape, unsure of where to go first. Thankfully, it looks like Tara’s in the same boat.
Her eyes lock in on something and she gasps.
“There! There’s a haunted house over there, let’s go!” She’s like a child with the excitement that radiates off her.
You raise an eyebrow.
“We just got attacked by Ghostface and you want to go into a haunted house?”
She shrugs, disregarding your statement.
“Doesn’t matter, I love haunted houses.”
Hm. That’s kind of psychotic. You decide it’s sort of hot.
You nod, and Tara brightens up; practically dragging you over in a hurry.
“Two tickets please.” You tell the teenager working the booth; who looks like they would rather be doing anything but this.
She hands you the tickets and you and Tara stand hand in hand, waiting in front of the big house.
“You scared?” Tara smirks, eyeing your nervous mannerisms.
“In your dreams.” You return.
Turns out, you might’ve really been in Tara’s dreams because that was one hell of a haunted house. You’re pretty sure you almost shit yourself at some point.
It’s not so bad when you remember how Tara would flinch and retract back into you though.
It’s pathetic how a single touch could turn scary into euphoric.
You guys scour the whole carnival after that, giggling as you bump tiny cars with each other, ride all the rollercoasters; well, all the rollercoasters that allowed a 5’0 person to be on.
Tara pulls you into a tent, lights dimmed and kisses you like her life depends on it. Hands grabbing at your face, a soft groan leaves her lips as you bite down on her bottom lip.
You briefly feel sand beneath your feet, and you don’t pay much mind to it; until the sound of big theater lights turns on and shines into your eyes. You and Tara practically jump away from each other, startled.
You’re met with the sight of children and adults alike; staring straight at you. They’re sitting on connecting chairs, mouths wide open.
You look around for the first time and notice the humongous red ball, the striped hoops, and the elephant hiding behind the back curtain.
Oh.
You speak fast before you can make it much worse.
“Sorry ‘bout that folks, consider it a little preshow!” You bow, and quickly take Tara’s hand, running out of the tent and into the carnival again.
Tara’s giggling so hard that she has to stop and catch her breath.
“Oh my god, I’m going to cry.” She manages to squeak out as she puts a hand over her stomach to calm down.
The rest of the night is spent in bliss, the food is amazing, and the lights reflecting on her face makes her somehow more beautiful.
You manage to win her a little teddy bear, and she beams as she pulls it into her side. She doesn’t let go of the bear for the rest of the night.
When you guys get back to the apartment, climbing in by the window to avoid Sam; Tara’s still giggling slightly.
You pull her forward and wrap her in your arms. It isn’t a very “first date” move, but the beer you had at the carnival must be making you extra confident.
“How was that for a first date?” You muse, brushing your nose against hers.
Tara looks flushed as she answers.
“It was good.” She says, voice high. It only helps your confidence boost higher.
“Would you want to go on another one?” You whisper, eyes flitting down to her lips and back to her other eye.
Triangle method, gotcha.
Tara leans impossibly closer, centimeters away from your lips.
She’s breathing heavily, and it takes everything in you not to kiss her. You want to make sure she wants it; you’ll let her take her time.
“I definitely would. Are you gonna ask me to be your girlfriend?”
Her words take you by surprise, eyebrows raising.
“Bold,” You murmur. “But yes, Tara, will you be my girlfriend?”
She nods, but it’s barely visible because she’s so close to you. It’s getting harder by the second to not just take her face in your hands and kiss her until she can’t breathe.
“Absolutely.” And she closes the gap between you two, kissing you softly; with emotion, with passion.
You sigh a little at the kiss. Who knew Tara Carpenter was such a romantic?
It turns heated fast, and you guys don’t stop, not even when you hear the front door open and the sound of Sam’s voice ringing.
It’s not until Sam actually opens the door to Tara’s bedroom that you break away and try to turn your face.
The look on her face is mixed with disgust and that lingering suspicion she always has when she sees you.
You can’t stare very long though, because Tara’s already pulling your face back; desperate to keep your attention and taking you in a searing kiss.
You hear Sam scoff, but it sounds a million miles away.
“Go away, Sam,” Tara says against your lips, and you can’t help but smile at her daring attitude.
Surprisingly, Sam does. Walking to her room with a sigh, probably knowing that if she started an argument she would lose.
Tara doesn’t waste any time pushing you down on her bed, straddling your waist; lips still fused together.
She grinds on you just slightly as she lets out a huff.
“You’re in for one long night.”
-
Tara’s a little wobbly the next day, and you’re shining; proud glint in your eyes.
You both look like crackheads, smiling bright; and you can tell it bugs Sam by the way she leaves the room when you enter.
When Tara walks over and sits directly in your lap, it seems to send Sam over the edge because she stands abruptly; announcing to everyone that she’s leaving to go to the station.
“The police station? Why are you going there?” You ask, cocking your head to the side.
Sam grabs her phone and wallet as she answers, “Detective Bailey called. He says he wants to meet me. Talk about something with Ghostface.”
Tara perks up in your lap, “Ghostface? Does he have leads?”
Sam shrugs and continues making her way through the hallway and out the front door.
Tara turns to you and gives you a quick peck. She doesn’t have to say anything, you understand her perfectly. She’s going to go with Sam.
You nod in understanding, letting go of your hands around her waist.
There’s not much to do when Tara’s gone, so you decide to go take a quick shower. Trying to make breakfast was a disaster, and there might’ve been a couple of flour stains and egg yolk on you.
It’s nice, peaceful. You feel like you’re on cloud 9, yesterday and today was like a dream.
The illusion shatters when you step out of the shower and find 3 missed calls from Tara. Worry immediately pangs in you.
You hurriedly click into her contact and press the dial button. It’s cut off immediately.
“Shit.” You mumble, wrapping a towel around yourself and rushing out of the bathroom.
You get dressed in record time, don’t explain to the rest of the gang where you’re going; curious eyes on you.
The trip to the station is a short one, well it’s short because you’re literally speeding there; hands gripping the steering wheel so tight your knuckles turn white.
You practically burst through the doors, startling the hoard of officers sitting down.
You stop, hold a hand up; and catch your breath for a second.
“Where’s…where’s Detective Bailey?”
A worried-looking front desk officer is the one who answers you. Leads you to the interrogation, makes you wait in front of it.
You fiddle with your thumbs, head low as you wait in front of the tiny room. They take 10 more minutes, but it feels like hours to you.
When the door opens, you leap out of your seat and take Tara in a bear hug.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t answer, I was in the shower.” You mumble into her hair, and you’re so caught up with being rejoiced she’s alive that you don’t notice that she doesn’t hug you back.
She pulls away, and swerves your attempt at kissing her, turning her head so your lips only brush her cheeks.
Sam looks at you; angry energy radiating off her body.
You suddenly feel weird, like the atmosphere has shifted.
You frown and peer down at Tara’s face. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, tight expression.
“Tara?”
“Let’s just go home. I’m not going to do this here.” She says.
Your brows furrow. “Do what?”
She doesn’t answer, but she does let you entwine your pinky fingers as you walk out, and you rejoice a little.
The walk to their apartment is silent, only interrupted by a couple of jabs from Sam at you.
It isn’t until you enter Tara’s room; door closed that she turns on you, with an expression you don’t recognize.
“Why did they find your DNA at the crime scene?”
#tardy#tara carpenter#tara carpenter x reader#jenna ortega x reader#scream vi#jenna ortega#wednesday addams x reader#vada cavell x reader
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