#but shes 8 weeks old that is expected lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dotieeee · 2 months

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The Gamemaker's Apprentice

Level 8

Pairing: Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow x You, named!Reader

Overall Warnings:

NON-CON, DUB-CON, Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow, Snow himself should be a warning, lots of blackmailing, gaslighting, manipulation, obsession, possesiveness, eventual forced marriage, eventual loss of virginity, breeding kink, canon-compliant major character death, reader is named but has no physical descriptions in the fic so one might also consider her an OC but in 2nd POV, will have canon inconsistencies, and other stuff that may be added

Masterlist

Level 8 Warnings:

Noncon elements, drugging, somnophilia, Snow being creepy af, experiments conducted on children (because it isn't Hunger Games without it lol), jealous Snow if you squint, violence

Replay Level 7

Ready? Level 8 Start:

You’re startled back to your senses when your communicuff beeps in your pocket. Not even halfway through the week and you’re already feeling the effects of not getting enough sleep since you began working for Coriolanus Snow. Even during the weekend before, when you were supposed to be resting, or going out for coffee or shopping, or whatever the hell it is that young adults such as yourself do during their spare time, you were hiding in your room, paralysed with worry for the direction your uncle’s project has gone to.

His name and yours, now part of the mindless slaughter of district children whose only crime was to be born poor in the wrong place.

You get nightmares almost every day now since you began working at the Citadel. Not that you can remember any of them; they slip from your grasp like smoke the moment your Uncle Cas wakes you. Every time he gently shakes you back to reality and tells you that you’ve been crying out for your parents again, all you see is his face, worn beyond his years of working, toiling, taking care of you, worrying about you, making sure you were happy. Knowing what you already know about where his life’s work is heading, kills you inside just thinking of telling him.

You play the voice message, thankful it isn’t from your tyrannical new boss who always seems to find new ways to hog your time all to himself. It’s embarrassing enough you got woken up by him to find his coat draped on you, with F3 arriving for his shift just in time to see him plant a kiss on your head. This morning, you had hardly placed your bag down on your desk when F1 made teasing remarks about you being in denial.

What’s the old saying? About denial not only being a river in Egypt? Did it also say anything about being willing to drown oneself in it to be put out of misery?

The message you play is from F2. She says there’s a shipment waiting at the gates for Acacius Innis, which they suspect are the drives your uncle supposedly ordered for his station, and you need to sign off on it as his replacement. Maybe he ordered them before discovering he was going to be promoted.

You take your barely coherent self to the entrance where a man in courier uniform flipping through receipts on a clipboard is waiting for you, a few medium-sized boxes stacked by his feet with the Innis Tech logo and a District 3 seal. He looks up from his clipboard and greets you with a smile as soon as you get near him. You know that greying hair and the lines at the corner of his eyes.

The bartender at Strabo’s party.

“Sign here, please,” he says as he hands you his clipboard and a pen.

He doesn’t seem to recognise you, but even in your sleep-deprived state, those features are unmistakable. He acknowledges your signature with a tip of his hat, a small ‘thank you,’ and walks away.

Maybe he works two jobs, you surmise. You think nothing of it any further as you head back to your work, while a couple of peacekeepers lug the boxes along. They take them to your office where you pore through their contents – as expected, they’re just empty drives, plus a single floppy disk with a blank label. You stow the disk in your drawer, thinking it must’ve been just a freebie or some playful inside joke between your uncle and his ex-wife.

It's almost nine by the time your final batch of unit testing is finished, and when Coriolanus Snow arrives in your office to check your progress, you give him the news he’d been waiting for:

“We’re ready for integration testing.”

The perversely delighted expression that grows on his face is something you’d never like to see in many other circumstances.

This night’s sleep proves elusive, just hours of tossing and turning, drifting in and out, only for you to fall asleep then wake up again with your uncle’s worry-plastered face, your lack of proper rest affecting the both of you. In the end, you don’t get any more shut-eye aside from the three or four hours you already had.

As you take your third cup of coffee at a quarter past eight in the morning on a Wednesday, that’s when you know you’re eventually going to crash. You just hope to anyone who bothers to listen that it doesn’t happen during your presentation to Volumnia Gaul.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re making your way to the designated testing room a few doors away from your office. The night shift crew from last night scrambled to finish the set-up according to the end-of-day report from F3, and since you’re early anyway, checking for last-minute adjustments can’t hurt.

You flick the lights on inside the room, gasping at the sight that greets you.

The space is humongous, with its high ceilings and carpeted floors. The room slopes towards a flat centre which has already been fitted with several computer sets, just like you instructed, arranged in the form of a pyramid, with the three in the middle set-up with multiple screens. The entire set faces a total of twenty-nine monitors built into the wall: twelve on either side, with four more below the largest one at the centre. To your left are three windows made of glass, covered from the inside with curtains you can’t see through. You find it peculiar that three more sets of computers are installed just before the windows, but you decide to ignore it, thinking it might just be something they couldn’t remove before this day. The thing is massive, after all.

You look around, your eyes landing on the glass observation deck where you assume Dr Gaul would stay. From that cushy little box, she would observe the entire experiment with her piercing, mismatched eyes, revelling in the future horrors your work will bring about.

The door to the testing room echoes as it opens, making you almost jump in place. You can’t tell whether it’s the nerves, or the caffeine, or the lack of sleep that’s making you more agitated than usual, but also maybe it’s because of the person who had just arrived, taking calculated steps towards you with his footsteps echoing despite the carpeted floors.

“Good morning, Nellie,” Coriolanus Snow greets you with a tilt of his head and a smile, and as warm as that greeting might look, it’s often hard to tell what lies behind that mask of his. Whatever it is isn’t good.

Still, you greet him back just as warmly as if the fact that he’d be evaluating your performance today isn’t bothering you at all. “Good morning, Coryo.”

Your mentor comes close inches before you, invading your space as always. He peers into your face with those striking blue eyes before worry etches into his. “Sugarplum, you have not been sleeping well,” he deduces correctly. “Are you okay?”

You wave off his concern with a shake of your head. “I’ll sleep better when the tests are over.”

“Tell me about it,” he says with a chuckle. He pauses for a while, his gaze never straying from your lips. You quell the need to move away from him. As an afterthought, he assures you, “You’ll do perfectly today; I know that much.”

You wish you had the same confidence he has in you as you have for yourself.

The twins arrive for a final inspection thirty minutes before your presentation to Dr. Gaul. You spend the rest of the remaining time inspecting the equipment with them, ensuring everything is in place. Every monitor mounted on the wall is turned on, and the computers begin powering up, prompting the screens to flash the Hunger Games screensaver. They check the computer facing the glass windows last, which as far as you remember, isn’t on the list of equipment you had asked them to prepare. You ask them why it needs a look over, but their response is vague.

“It’s the first agenda for after lunch’s presentation. Mr Innis supervised the testing for this before, so we’ll take care of the demo,” F2 says.

Volumnia Gaul arrives exactly at nine, escorted by two stoic peacekeepers in their grey-blue uniforms. Today, she wears her usual lab coat, pristine white morphing into scarlet, her gloves made of leather of the bloody shade. You join in when everyone in the room welcomes her.

“Mr Snow.” Her drawling voice greets your mentor. “You have been hard at work, you and your little apprentice,” she glances at you, drumming her gloved fingers together her smile widening in anticipation. “Now I gather you’ve a little show for me, Mr Snow. Let the theatre commence!”

At her cue, Coriolanus officially welcomes her to the integration test, while you initiate Begin Game on the main command console.

You step aside so you can show Dr Gaul the main command console’s user interface: everything from camera control, drone management software, motion tracking and the tribute odds system, the vital signs tracking software, and overall game environment controls software, each displayed on a single monitor hooked on main – everything you and your uncle spent blood, tears and sweat on, contained in a single computer station.

“...In other words,” you conclude, “The main command console is the brains of the entire operation. It oversees everything, even the consoles used by the gamemakers, the mentors, and the operators. This is what we use to begin the Game, and it’s programmed to automatically save game data when only one tribute remains, which it detects because of the vitals tracking device. Override requests go to this console, as well.”

Dr Gaul’s eyes are glowing, but you know that it isn’t because of the lights on the monitors. A despicable grin dances on her features as she chuckles lowly to herself.

“My, oh my, what a promising start, Ms Innis,” she says softly with delight, her eyes shifting only from screen to screen. “This is just magnificent.”

You move on to the console beside the main, the one you’ve programmed as the gamemaker console which F1 will demonstrate. She navigates the interface while you expound the functions: the ability to shift camera angles, alerts for donations made to a tribute on the tribute status screen, tribute status and odds percentages onscreen...

“...and most importantly, the game environment control. Basic commands such as the activating of traps and releasing of any mutts...availability, of course, depends on the environment.”

F1 chimes in, “If I may direct your attention to the test arena being flashed on the monitors, please.” He waves a hand to the camera angle showing the Citadel basement: nothing but grey walls and decommissioned equipment archived or otherwise abandoned.

“Putting that useless old space to use, I see,” Dr Gaul smirks.

“The team has installed several mini explosives in the space, which we can activate with a single click,” says F2.

“That, and an artificial weather control system – bring on the heat, or the cold, or the rain,” F1 adds proudly. F2 runs a command on the console, letting artificial rain down on a small section of the makeshift arena, which darkens the grey walls and initiates a spark in one of the abandoned equipment.

“Some of those might still be plugged into an electrical source, which could prove hazardous,” you comment, but F1 brushes off your concerned look.

“Oh yeah, we hooked it up to a separate source,” he just replies vaguely.

“Add acid rain.”

Everyone’s heads turn to Dr Gaul at her suggestion. Her smile just widens, revealing her white teeth, her eyes brimming with barely contained excitement. She drums her fingers together and elaborates, “Acid rain, acid rain; melt their skins, o what great pain!”

You turn away to feign browsing through the console’s tabs, while Coriolanus clears his throat and casually suggests adding burn medicine and burn relief ointments to the mentor inventory.

F1 and F2 merely nod, and you three move on to the mentor console.

“We decommissioned the bulkier communicuffs from the previous games to make way for this,” you gesture to the computer F2 navigates. A wave of nausea hits you, but you attempt to mask it by leaning into the back of a computer chair for support. “The mentors will be assigned one of each console, which they will use to send items and gifts and track their tribute’s odds.”

You go on further by establishing the best modification yet to the way the mentors send their items: mentors can now send multiple items at once, with a maximum weight of five kilograms.

“That way, we minimise drone damage and repair costs. Also, before the mentor hits send, they will get a preview of how their tribute’s odds will approximately change when they receive and use the items, thus helping drive mentors’ decision-making in looking out for their tributes and ensuring their win.”

Your boss’s boss tilts her head in curiosity. “I just love it when they get competitive – that drive, you could almost smell in the air, it just makes it all the more fun to watch.”

You nod once at F2, who clicks on a bottle of water and a slice of bread on the inventory and hits send, and all of you watch with bated breath as the drone circles the area and drops it gently on a flat surface, directly on top of an ancient analogue computer.

“We don’t have a tribute registered as an official player yet, but once we do, it will deliver the goods just like before, but with better accuracy rates owing to enhancements in the facial recognition software,” F2 explains.

Dr Gaul hums. “And what of the sponsor system?”

F1 takes care of the operator console demo, and your mentor chooses this moment to draw closer to your side, his face radiant with pride. I guess that means he likes your performance. His eyes then hone on your hand still clinging to the chair’s backrest, but before he can say something, you approach F1 and look over his shoulder as he explains how the last console works.

Pretty simple, actually: the operator receives a call for a sponsorship; they enter the sponsor’s bank account details, the amount or the item on the system and their designated benefactor, the system alerts the mentor who received the gift and gets an alert on their console, and an alert goes to the gamemakers’ and the main as well.

F2 adds helpfully that the operator console should be run by a representative from the Citadel’s finance department, to which Gaul agrees.

You surmise it’s the same entity running the betting system where the Games rakes the most money.

To finish the demo, you mention the existence of backup computers on standby in the event of a hardware malfunction. While it’s unlikely as all the equipment is brand-new, it’s something your uncle would do: to be one step ahead of everything.

Something you wish you would’ve done before ever engaging with Coriolanus Snow.

The first part of the integration tests finishes with you and your team opening the panel for questions, which you all answer with practised ease. When she seems satisfied with everything, she announces lunch on her, and within minutes, you’re being driven by a large van to The White Knight, where you’re all waited on graciously by the restaurant staff. Everyone takes their seat at a rounded table, with you beside Coriolanus, who has taken you here for dinner a few times since last week.

And all of those times, you made sure to order the angel food cake.

Today, however, you can’t bring yourself to eat that much, so you skip the cake, thinking it doesn’t deserve a half-assed digging-in, and opt for an affogato instead. That counts as dessert, right? Still, the ever-observant Coriolanus squeezes your thigh gently under the table, making you peer into his face, subtly questioning you. You just flash him a smile and concentrate on your dessert. You could slap that hand off too, but then he takes it off slowly, dragging your skirt up a little in the process.

You lose whatever remaining appetite you have, but you push through. Only half a day left, and you can maybe just hand in your resignation tomorrow and forget about this whole thing. And then maybe live in the woods, after.

Everyone is taken back to the Citadel at twelve-thirty, and Dr Gaul gives the go-ahead for the second part of the integration test at one.

Nursing an incoming headache courtesy of the espresso from lunch, you miserably accompany F1 and F2 to prepare for their demo on the computers right before the glass windows. Dr Gaul makes her entrance on time, so you stand back and watch with Coriolanus as the siblings take the reigns on the stations they set up before the windows.

F1 runs a command on his computer, which turns the lights on behind the curtains before they’re drawn to the side, and what you thought were initially windows reveal a shocking sight – something else you hadn’t been expecting to see.

Behind each glass pane, separated by thick walls, are three captives, one male and two females, all of them looking not much older than in their late teens. They seem to have been awakened by the sudden blaring of lights inside their enclosure and are stirring awake from their cots. They look a little thin and pale, but there is not an ounce of confusion in their expressions, as if they had been there for a while and are used to being woken up like so. The brown-haired male mouths something that you read on his lips as ‘hello.’

You could feel your own eyes widen at the sight of them, your mouth opening on its own accord to let out a protest, but your throat dries up as a cold, firm hand closes on yours. Coriolanus Snow’s cold cerulean orbs, pinning you to place, spell a single, well-understood warning:

‘Don’t.’

F2’s voice floats in the space as she introduces the second stage of the integration test.

“What you’re currently seeing is one of our many additions to the game interface: we’ve inserted a microchip into the test subjects you see in the windows which transmits real-time data to our system: heart rate, pulse, blood pressure, and other vital signs, plus levels of cortisol, serotonin...”

F2 drones on with her explanation of how the microchip works, just as you watch while the three teens are served food through a small slot at the far end of their cells.

“We will spend the next three hours observing how the chip works and how it transmits data that could influence audience betting, sponsorship, and decision-making. Mr Innis designed a learning algorithm that makes use of motion-tracking software to study the tributes’ every move in real-time, which contributes largely to the accuracy of the odds on our screen. We hope to gather their responses to a number of stimuli we’ll be exposing them to within the said time to demonstrate the software’s capabilities.”

When they begin eating, F1 begins explaining to Dr Gaul, who approaches the computer screens to look at the data, how the system measures hormones related to food intake, among others.

You could feel your head start to throb and can’t help wincing at the pain. Coriolanus’s hand is still on yours, he feigns looking over at the computers then meets your eyes, shooting you a questioning look.

Are you okay?

You blink once, indicating you’re fine and break the eye contact just as he releases his grip on you. He doesn’t really care, you know that much; his only concern is the success of this presentation, and you’re not about to fuck it up for him. Instead, you peer curiously at the food they served the three teens, noting how little they’re given: a slice of stale, brown bread, a small bowl of soup, and a single bottle of water.

The male, however, finishes his meal rather quickly and raps on the glass impatiently, mouthing something you can’t quite make out.

“Their enclosure is soundproof, even their walls so they can’t hear each other; they can’t see through the glass, either. In each cell, however, we placed a screen on a corner of each wall, where they could see and hear us individually when we address them through the intercom,” F1 says. That’s when you notice that each computer station is equipped with a small, built-in camera on top of the monitor.

F2 nods and elaborates, “We figured they’d be more likely to cooperate if they see a face guiding them through the experiments.”

You take the remaining computer station beside F2, activate the teenage male’s intercom and place him on speakers.

“...Hey, hey, I can see you!” He shouts at the screen, waving frantically. “Can you hear me? Been talkin’ for a while now, did anybody get that?”

“No, I’m sorry...” you say through the microphone. You scan through his uploaded background information on the computer. “Callahan, you’ll have to say that again, please.”

“Whoa,” Callahan stares in wonder at the intercom screen in his room. “Uh, I was just askin’ when ya’ll’re gon’ let me out, but...it’s nice to hear from anyone, really. Been cooped up here a long time.”

You inhale sharply as you turn off your mic. This is going to be a long three hours. “Honestly, I don’t know,” you confess to him on the mic. According to all the files on the test subjects, they're promised a sum of money and a year’s worth of grains once they’re sent home. In seventeen-year-old Callahan Brody’s case, home is District 3.

Where the Innises began building their empire.

“Our timetable is based on the success of the experiments you’re recruited for,” you add.

He bats his eyelashes at the monitor, his eyes innocently bulging in awe. It’s odd to see him ogle at the piece of tech, knowing he’s seen much more impressive stuff in his line of work if his file is to be believed. “Hey, as long as...I’m not talkin’ to meself all the damn time.”

Coriolanus approaches your side, placing his hand on the back of your chair.

“Whoa, you’re really pretty.” Callahan chuckles bashfully at the screen. “I wouldn’t mind gettin’ stuck here for days if it means I get to see you.”

He was staring at you and not the tech, you belatedly realise. Your glance automatically goes up to your mentor, whose hardened eyes betray his displeasure at the interaction, no matter how blank he keeps his expression.

“Flattery won’t get you out of this sooner,” you say.

F1 casually mentions an increase in oxytocin and testosterone levels detected by the software on Callahan’s profile tab.

You could feel Coriolanus’s ire radiating off him in waves.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Callahan asks through the intercom.

You give him a false name for the experiment’s sake. This a scientific pursuit, you remind yourself. You and the siblings take turns getting him to talk about himself, so the software can continue logging his vitals in the process.

He tells you that his favourite food is roasted chicken and gravy, but that he only gets to eat it on special occasions. During his spare time, he likes taking apart the family radio and the old television that he inherited from his grandfather, and he had two siblings who’d help him put them back before their father got home. He says he used to work for one of your family’s factories before he came here, confirming the data logged on his file. He talks about the assembly line he was a part of before A.I.-powered machinery replaced him, rendering his job, and him, obsolete. He says he was just one of the hundreds laid off and replaced by robots.

Does your uncle know about this?

“I used to be a computer technician,” he continues. Really? That isn’t on his file, you note. “But then I lost my drive.”

You had to put your hand over your mouth to stifle your laugh brought about by that unexpected joke.

“Nerd.” F2 pokes your arm teasingly as she laughs along.

F1 verbalises a spike in endorphins in between soft bouts of laughter. “Sorry,” he tells Dr. Gaul, whose eyebrow is raised in mild amusement. “We’re a sucker for puns.”

“Of all the people they could get from the districts, they settle for another nerd,” F2 says under her breath.

Callahan seems to be delighted to entertain. “Hey, I got ‘nuther one: why do programmers hate going outside?”

F1 quips excitedly. “Ooh, I know that!”

“Because outside’s full of bugs.”

F1 and F2 both crack up, with F2 suggesting ‘we should keep him.’

You decide to play along with Callahan if only to get a rise out of your mentor, the only one who isn’t finding anything amusing out of the exchange.

“What’s a computer’s favourite snack?” you ask him on the intercom.

“What?” He and your computer engineers ask in unison.

With suppressed smile you say, “Chips.”

The laugh you get out of your subject from District 3 records the spike, while Coriolanus rolls his eyes in exasperation. He suggests moving on to the other test subjects, and the three of you oblige, repeating the same experiment.

The girl beside Callahan’s cell is significantly more reserved, and it takes a while for the three of you to elicit a response from her. Tansey Page, barely fourteen with her curly red hair and wide, almost scared eyes, is from District 11. Based on her file, she’s been living with an aunt, her only living relative, since her parents perished in the war. Her aunt had been unable to work due to a bad fall from a nectarine tree from which she never recuperated, and Tansey had to earn a living for both of them at the age of nine. As your software does its job logging spikes to her vitals, you can’t help but think about how dire her situation was that she had to enlist for this test and leave behind an aunt who barely seems to have the capacity to take care of herself.

Once Tansey opens up, you discover she’s a soft-spoken, sweet girl who loves jellied blackberries. She says she loves to read, but since they couldn’t afford books, she would often copy stories by hand on paper from borrowed books. Hearing her recount this pains you, but you follow the siblings’ example and not let it affect you. Besides, there isn’t anything you can do for her at this point but succeed in the tests so they can all go back home to their families in the districts with the payment they’re promised.

The third and last subject, Audrey Mills, blond and pale with shifting reddish eyes, is the most difficult to work with out of the three. She barely looks at the screen in her cell, just huddled on her bed with her knees to her chest, only tensing slightly when she hears anyone of you three ask her a question through her intercom. The uploaded file tells more about her than she does: she’s from District 7, aged sixteen, abandoned by rebel parents who are presumed dead, and raised by her grandmother who recently passed away. She was targeted by a trafficker nicknamed ‘The Wolf,’ probably due to her unique features, but she fought him off and murdered him by bashing him on the head repeatedly with a blunt axe. It took four peacekeepers to haul her away from the body, and unlike the other two teens, she didn’t willingly sign up for the tests and was sent here with only the promise of being pardoned for her crime.

In the end, F1 gives up with an annoyed sigh, and having only an hour left for the tests, he decides to move on to another pursuit.

“This last portion of the test will showcase the software’s ability to record vital signs in the event of negative stimuli. The subjects will be injected with a slow-acting compound laced with a hallucinogenic that targets the amygdala, or the fear centre of the brain, and mimics anything the test subjects may define as hostile. We hope to gauge the effectivity of our software by recording any physiological and hormonal changes on each subject as they would in a natural, stressful environment.”

F1 fishes out a walkie-talkie from his lab coat and through it, he says, “Begin with Test Subject 3.”

Even before you can open your mouth to object to the experiment, two peacekeepers enter Audrey’s cell from a concealed door behind her bed, followed by a female nurse carrying a large syringe. Audrey puts up a fight and tries to evade what to her would be an unknown chemical being forced upon her, but her weakened state proves no match to the peacekeepers who pin her arms and legs to the floor, while the nurse injects her with the compound. She just lies on her belly, presumably screaming, and they eventually leave her alone in her cell, having done their job. She gets to her feet and back to cowering on her bed, visibly shaken by the way she was manhandled.

These are the kind of tests Uncle Cas had to endure conducting under his supervision.

F1 commands through his walkie-talkie for Test Subject 2 to be injected with the same compound.

You and F2 exchange looks. She explains, trying to keep her voice straight, “We’re dosing them at the same time because it takes about fifteen to thirty minutes for the drug to take effect,” she glances sideways at her brother and asks, “Aren’t we going to give the dose to Test Subject 1?”

F1 considers the question, but replies, “No, we leave him as control. Besides, he’s the only one that didn’t piss me off today.”

You watch numbly as the peacekeepers and the nurse from a while ago enter Tansey’s cell. Compared to Audrey, Tansey keeps perfectly still, her eyes fearful and wary and darting from between the peacekeepers’ guns to the syringe needle. She exposes her arm mutely to the nurse, who promptly sticks the syringe into her before stepping out of the enclosure and taking the peacekeepers with her. The wait begins – a long, depraved contest of who gets affected first between Test Subjects 2 and 3.

Tansey’s breathing rate begins to increase at the fifteen-minute mark. She slowly rises from her perch on the cot while she stares with wide eyes at something in the air. Her heart rate increases, according to the system, along with rising levels of adrenocorticotropin.

“Cortisol levels are also rising,” F2 observes aloud. “Test Subject 2 exhibiting signs of stress.”

“What are you seeing, Tansey?” you ask the teen.

But all you get from her is panicked screaming, so you put her to mute at once, helplessly watching as she flails her arms and runs around in her cell in an effort to swat away whatever she’s seeing, which seems to be attacking her from the air in all directions.

“I think she’s seeing tracker jackers...” you whisper to no one in particular. “Which makes sense, given her work environment...”

You’re about to ask if they also developed an antidote for this compound, but a dull thud on the glass startles you – Audrey just banged on the glass with her palms, her vitals are a disarray, and her blonde hair is matted with sweat. She keeps glancing behind her and screaming and hitting the window with her balled fists, almost like she’s begging to be let out.

F2 urgently asks through the intercom, “Audrey, I need you to describe what you’re seeing.”

For the first time today, Audrey opens her mouth to speak, her voice hoarse and filled with despair. “The Wolf.”

“She’s hallucinating her attacker,” F2 says as she turns her mic off.

“That means the drug is working, and the software seems to have an accurate read on all physiological and hormonal spikes. Control subject is fine and his vitals are stable,” F1 notes in a matter-of-fact tone. “Everything in their cells, by the way, is being captured by our motion tracker and being fed to the algorithm in real time.”

But, what for, when you’ve already covered that portion in the first part of the integration tests?

You spend the last fifteen minutes of the tests completely dumbstruck, petrified and wishing everything to be over so you can put this horrible job behind you and move on with your life. You keep stealing glances at Coriolanus, but his face is as stony as ever, and Dr Gaul just seems to be having the time of her life watching the test subjects run about in their cells letting out screams only they can hear, tormented by horrors only they can perceive.

By the time F1 declares the tests a success, you’re barely paying attention to his words – you just stare at the computer monitor, waiting for the save progress to reach a hundred percent before you can shut it down. Coriolanus places a hand on your shoulder, which you take as your cue to stand while your department head gives her verdict.

The Head Gamemaker dons a pleased smile as she delivers her final feedback. She seems absolutely thrilled with the tests so far and commends everyone hard at work on seeing the program to completion.

Dr Gaul clasps her hands together as she asks, “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I heard your team mention a trial Hunger Games using the test subjects?”

It can’t be, it just might be your physically and emotionally exhausted state mishearing her. You just blink, careful to pay more attention.

F2 gives an affirmative nod as she adjusts her glasses. “It’s called grey-box testing. The idea is to pool in end-users, ideally those who have partial knowledge of the internal structure, to help us test the software. We have F3, whom we’ve already asked prior to this, and Mr Snow has also volunteered himself and his apprentice, Ms Innis, to participate as test mentors.”

Dr Gaul nods her head in approval. “Indeed. I am glad that your team understands the exigency of this project, Mr Snow. The Twelfth Hunger Games is upon us, and I’d like to see this thing of beauty put to great use.”

Your world is in a tailspin. Your grip on the back of your computer chair is the only thing that keeps you from falling. Your hands are shaking even as you pretend you only had to grab the bottle of water on the station behind you to dissuade your mentor’s worried looks.

So, this is what they were recording them for, you conclude. To top it off, your boss has enlisted you as a test mentor, which means you will be responsible for the death of one or more of the teenagers you had just observed minutes ago being needlessly tortured so more could take their place this July.

Unable to control your lightheadedness any longer, you fall sideways with nothing to break your descent but the chair you had been sitting on.

A pair of strong arms is on you at once, gathering you and carrying you bridal style, ignoring your weakened protests. Everything is a blur, and you get dizzier in its hold, but you fight to stay conscious no matter how fleeting. The world only steadies when you’re set down on what feels like soft leather.

You wince at the bright light that floods your eyes. There’s a muffled voice you can make out that seems to be calling your name. When your vision and hearing clear, you finally make out the source of that blinding light: a penlight held by Dr Gaul herself, which she turns off; that voice belonging to none other than Coriolanus Snow whose hands are clasping one of yours.

“There she is, your little pet. Poor thing is fatigued, by the looks of her,” Dr Gaul chuckles lightly and raises an eyebrow at him. “You ought to keep your hands away from her every so often.”

Coriolanus merely exhales in relief, but his jaw remains tense. “She is merely preoccupied with the program, Dr. Gaul. She hasn’t been sleeping very well for the past weeks.”

The woman simply clicks her tongue in impatience. The sound of peeling latex gloves breaks the quiet in the room momentarily, followed by the opening of a sliding door shelf, the clinking of glass bottles and the closing of said shelf. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the doctor hand your mentor something you can’t see.

Gingerly, you sit up on the infirmary bed, and Coriolanus helps steady you by placing his hands on your shoulders.

Dr Gaul’s voice echoes in the room. “I’d like you to be in tip-top shape, Ms Innis, so I will give you the day off tomorrow. I will delay the trial, but only for a day more. Take her home, Mr Snow. Get some rest, both of you. Come this Friday, we’ll continue.”

She turns on her heels and walks away. Coriolanus’s sharp eyes follow his mentor’s retreating form until she disappears from the room. He then turns to you, his concerned blue orbs raking your form.

He cups your cheeks as he whispers, “You gave me quite the scare, my sugarplum.” He kisses you on the forehead, then asks, “Tell me what you’re feeling. Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Other than my head pounding? I’m fine, I guess. I just need some sleep,” your hushed tone says. And other than your tights sustaining a rip on the right thigh from your fall on the computer chair, everything else on you seems to be intact, so you try to stand. The floor seems to move the moment you get to your feet, and Coriolanus catches you before another stumble.

“You’re coming with me to my place,” he says firmly.

You begin protesting, “Coryo, I can just go home –”

You’re interrupted by your own yelp of surprise – to your mortification, he carries you in his arms just as he did when he brought you to the infirmary.

He raises a chastising eyebrow at you. “I’m having none of your complaints. You’re in no state to walk, or to go to your home – it’s too far. My apartment is closer.”

You can’t find the words to argue this logic, so you burrow your face further into his coat in embarrassment. He carries you to his car and instructs his driver to head to his home. You count a few blocks before you arrive at the entrance to this new luxury apartment building. You remember this building from a flyer; despite its ridiculous markup, it targeted uni students, promising luxury features that somewhat rival that of The Corso’s.

It takes a while for you to assure him that you can walk fine on your own, but he relents in the end with a purse of his lips. You could tell he’s displeased by your refusal to be carried like a damsel in distress, but he settles for putting his arm around your shoulders as he walks you across the building’s fine lobby and to the elevator. It’s his private elevator, he says – a perk of owning the largest penthouse spanning the entire top floor. That and exclusive access to the rooftop, he adds.

All this extravagance bought and paid for by the family of a man he presumably betrayed, you bitterly think.

This begs the question: how much longer you can overlook the possibility that he had Sejanus executed?

You silence that snide voice in your head, only because it just served to amplify your pain.

He’s greeted by a maid right in his foyer, who takes both your coats, before he instructs her curtly to make some tea. With his hand on your lower back, he leads you to his spacious living room with windows overlooking the Capitol bathed in the orange gleam of the setting sun, and you can’t help but look around you in amazement at the sheer elegance of his unit. You could see why it would appeal to students; it certainly favoured contemporary interior decor compared to that of The Corso’s art deco leanings. He ushers you into the velvet crimson loveseat in a corner near a window adorned with silky throw pillows.

“Take your shoes off and lie down if you want,” he suggests. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

You lean against the backrest with a sigh of relief. Finally, a friendlier surface than the computer chair you’d been lounging around in all day. You’re almost tempted to do as he instructed and make yourself comfortable, if it isn’t for the fact that you’re technically in enemy territory, and you’re a war prisoner being lured with the promise of freedom in exchange for betraying your side.

Instead, you make do with hugging one of the pillows, cursing yourself for landing in this situation – after all, it’s partly your fault that you’re here instead of home where you’re sure you're safe, and most importantly, away from Coriolanus Snow’s clutches.

Coriolanus is back within minutes, taking a seat beside you. He’s taken off his waistcoat and unbuttoned his white shirt halfway through, you observe. He rolls up his sleeves as the maid enters with a steaming teapot, cream, and sugar bowls on a tray along with two sets of teacups. She sets them all down on the coffee table in the middle. He instructs her to bring out the cake from the fridge as she exits.

He pours you a cup of tea, the inviting aroma of a rooibos and valerian root blend drifting in the living room air before he adds just the right amount of milk and sugar as you would make it yourself.

“Drink this, sugarplum. It’ll help, trust me,” he says as he pushes the teacup towards you. He pours some himself, only adding two cubes of sugar and a lemon wedge squeeze, as is his occasional preference. You watch him take a sip before you do.

And of course, your cup tastes perfect. It’s almost scary how he knows the littlest of details, including how you take your tea, of all things.

The maid arrives with what looks like a matcha-flavoured angel food cake from The White Knight before he instructs her to go home early for the night.

You try not to be nervous at being left alone with him in his apartment and focus on the tea.

Coriolanus takes the liberty of slicing you a piece of the cake and placing it on the empty plate the maid had brought in. He urges you to eat.

“I noticed you didn’t order that angel food cake you seem to be partial to when we had lunch. I thought you might like to have a bite after such a successful day.”

The smile he gives you is full of pride, while you feel nothing but shame at the abomination you had just willingly participated in. Still, you take a few bites of the cake to placate him. You’re in his turf where his rule is absolute, and heaven forbid any missteps on your part that would warrant any sanctions.

He watches you quietly for a short while over sips of tea while you contemplate the best exit strategy. Even with your slice of cake gone and your cup of tea empty, you come up with nil excuses. Surprisingly, the food helped a bit with the nausea, and you could feel your limbs starting to relax further into the couch. You can’t even fight your yawn, only stifling it with your hands, as you sink into the pile of throw pillows.

Okay, maybe just a little nap…surely, he wouldn’t mind.

The last thing you see as you drift off to blackness is Coriolanus and his lopsided grin, his slender fingers brushing off the hair framing your face.

According to Coriolanus’s watch, it took about thirty minutes for the sleeping draught he put in the milk bowl to take effect, but he allows ten more minutes to make sure you’re deep in your sleep and won’t be waking in at least a few hours. He still had some of the draught in his medicine cabinet as he’d used in the past, making sure not to touch the other bottle he’s supposed to give you courtesy of Dr Gaul.

He spends the rest of the ten minutes just admiring your face, finally deep in your own little world, blissfully unaware of your reality. For the first time in a long while, he’s completely alone with you, so allows himself this little treat of brushing your cheeks and stroking your hair. He wonders what you dream of. He wishes it was filled with the things you love. He wishes he was in it somewhere.

He eventually decides that this loveseat is no place for his sweet, little sugarplum to spend the night in.

He carefully removes your shoes and places them neatly by the foot of the couch. He carries you with ease like a prince claiming his princess bride before walking off to the sunset. He is gentle when he sets you down on his bed. He doesn't need to close his door; it’s just you and him on the entire floor, after all. He straddles your hips as he climbs on top of your sleeping figure. His eyes greedily take you in: your hair spread out on his pillow, your lips slightly parted, the curve of your neck beating your pulse...it’s what he’s dreamed of for so long; you sprawled underneath him ready for his taking...

He finally just lets his intrusive thoughts take over and licks that enticing pulse point of yours.

The moment his tongue latches on your skin, Coriolanus knows he wants more. He hurriedly unbuttons your blouse and gently peels it off your torso, exposing the swell of your breasts, modestly covered in a cream-coloured bra. Watching your exposed bosom rising and falling in steady breathing has his blood rushing from his head to his groin.

And then you had to let out a tiny, adorable whine from the back of your throat.

Coriolanus groans in frustration as he wipes a bead of sweat off his temple. The rational part of him tells him to stop, put your shirt back on and keep away from your sleeping figure because he’s aware your first time with him shouldn’t be while you’re asleep and unable to respond to his touches. He knows you’re a virgin and he’d prefer that you remember your first experience with him, and that taking you on the night of your wedding means you’d have no reason to refuse him as your husband.

But there’s this other side of him – primal, impatient, irrational, and ravenous, that part of him he normally conceals from you, most especially – that’s threatening to surface. The part of him that knows he’s been so good to you, and he’s waited long enough for even just a taste of how right at home you’d make him feel when his rock-hard cock is burrowed deep inside you...

As his gaze dips further down the skirt you’re wearing, now slightly hiked up and revealing your stocking-wrapped thighs, a thought successfully marries his rational and irrational side: he doesn’t have to fuck you tonight – he can still save you for your wedding night and still get to taste you and satisfy that painfully growing erection of his.

He seals your lips with a searing kiss, which eventually dips to the valley between your breasts, which he then squeezes through your bra. He fights the entire time not to suck on your skin and leave bruises, figuring you’d easily see if he did. He kisses and licks and massages every part of your body he can reach, while his hand travels underneath your skirt. He gathers the material to your waist, revealing your lower half and peels off that pesky pantyhose, careful not to aggravate that little tear.

And once again, Coriolanus pulls away to admire the sight of you, on his bed, in your underwear, his breathing turning shallow in anticipation.

Just a taste, he assures himself, as he removes your panties, leaving your cunt bare to him and sending more blood to his already-engorged cock. He hastens in taking your legs apart and hooking them under his arms, and from there, he begins his worship.

The kiss he plants on your inner thigh slowly travels downwards, and he allows himself to suckle on your soft skin while still avoiding any visible welts. He does the same with your other thigh, but this time, he suckles and bites down on a tender spot near that hole in your stocking, and he only stops when an angry little red blotch begins to bloom on the flesh. He kisses it one more time for good measure, just before he dives in to feast on his main course.

Coriolanus moans indecently when his tongue begins to part your folds. He chuckles to himself when he feels you jerk a little in his hold – his sweet, delicious sugarplum, so sensitive to his touch...

What was that thing they used to say as children? I licked it, so it’s mine.

He runs this tongue over his lips before continuing his quest of lapping at your cunt, making sure he takes everything you offer him. He sucks on your clit as he listens to your breathy little whines, your body tensing in your sleep as he drinks and licks your juices – you taste just like honey on his tongue – he’s parched like he’s been that way since he can remember, and your cunt is the only thing that could quench that life-long thirst, and he doesn’t stop drinking you in until your entire body is tensing up and your thighs are quivering in his arms. He pulls away in time to watch your pretty face, frozen in pure bliss, your mouth parted as you let out those airy little moans and whines.

Did he just give his little sugarplum her first-ever orgasm in her sleep?

Your limbs relax eventually as he releases your thighs. Still drunk on the taste of you in his mouth, he quickly takes his shirt off and wastes no time unzipping his pants. He can only ignore his raging erection for so long, after all.

Like he’s done countless times, he takes his cock in his fist and begins pumping himself as he watches you – as per usual, he indulges himself in fantasies about you, moaning and screaming his name, writhing underneath him in pleasure and making a mess of his bedsheets, except your face in his mind is clearer than ever before, now that he’s seen the expressions and the sounds you’d make as he makes you come around his cock again and again. He imagines himself taking you over and over even as you stay limp underneath him, too fucked out to moan anything coherently.

It doesn’t take Coriolanus long to reach his peak. With a loud, guttural groan, he finishes on your stomach, making sure he doesn’t spill anywhere else even amidst the waves of pleasure engulfing him. He brings his forehead close to yours as he steadies his breathing and lets his high fade. Once he’s regained his composure, he pulls away from you, zips his pants back up and gets off you completely, opting to sit beside you as he leans against the headboard to collect his thoughts.

He knows he couldn’t leave you in your half-dressed state for long lest you catch a cold, so he begins to erase any evidence of the little bit of fun he had with you. Shame, really, when you look so inviting covered in his spend.

He starts by gently wiping his cum off your stomach with a damp towel, ensuring that he leaves no trace of himself on you. He finds wiping you clean easy and satisfying, vaguely wondering what it would be like to have the two of you soaking in a bathtub together and doing the same for him. The next task, getting you back in your stockings, isn’t as easy as the previous, given that he has to arrange the run on the cloth back where he remembers it to be. Miraculously, he too, gets that task out of the way, and putting your shirt back on proves way less challenging. By the time he’s done, the only sign he’d been on you is the little love bite he left, now purplish-black, conveniently camouflaged by that little tear on your stocking you’d be quick to dismiss it as a byproduct of your fall.

For now, that little beast in him has been sated and has retreated to the far corners of his psyche. He kisses your crown as he tucks you in the covers, but notices how troubled your expression looks.

Are you having a bad dream, he wonders?

You stir in your sleep as you turn away from his side of the bed, muttering a word he couldn’t catch. He climbs back in beside you, leaning against the pillows, his eyes landing on the vial of smelling salts on his nightstand. If this worsens, maybe he could use that to tear you away from the dream that’s bothering you.

Then he hears sniffling.

You curl up in a ball beneath the sheets as the sniffling grows more audible. He peers further into your face, finding fresh trails of tears on your temples.

Coriolanus almost internally panics.

Did he do this to you? Had he somehow given you a dream you’re now struggling with because of what he did? He rubs his face as he thinks of the possibilities.

Maybe you’re dreaming of Sejanus. Perhaps in this dream, he’s breaking your heart, or he’s hurting you, maybe even cheated on you and you had caught him in the middle of messing around with another girl.

Things Coriolanus would never, ever do to you.

He finds comfort in the thought somehow, and he can at least hope this dream version of himself would come in and punch the daylights out of dream-Sejanus for making you cry.

“Mommy…”

It’s faint, but he hears it.

“Mommy, wake up, please…We have to find daddy..."

Ah, you’re dreaming of that day.

Coriolanus recalls the day Sejanus approached him with good intentions (like always, he couldn’t help his nature) and began talking to him about you. It was one of his many deluded attempts at igniting friendship with him. He didn’t really care back then whatever he had to say, much less about you, but then he had to reveal how your parents died.

Such needless deaths brought about the vindictiveness of rebels who were bitter about your parents choosing the correct side.

And Coriolanus knew, better than anyone, and certainly better than Sejanus, what it was like to lose a parent the way you did.

For a moment there, he sees his younger self in you, calling out for his dead mother in the middle of the night and waking up realising she’ll never come back.

His heart wrenches at your pain, so he gathers you in his lap as you sob in your slumber. He’d never thought he’d see you this vulnerable around him, so it gives him an odd sense of ease knowing he’d seen a side of you you’d normally hide from him, and making you feel safe in his arms like this is something a dutiful husband would definitely do.

He almost ignores the phone ringing in his living room in favour of keeping you in his embrace.

Except the call drops and the phone rings insistently three more times, making him gently peel you off his lap and wanting to yank it off the plug.

Instead, he picks it up. What compelled him to do so, he doesn’t know, and he can’t pinpoint whether it was a good or a bad decision.

“Coriolanus. This is Acacius Innis.”

Fuck. Just when he’s finally got you to himself.

Acacius Innis inquires more persistently on the other line. “Is my niece with you?”

“Yes, Mr Innis. She –”

“Why?”

Coriolanus does not appreciate Innis senior’s tone, nor the way he just cut him off. “She almost passed out at work this afternoon, sir,” he says. “My place was the closest I could bring her to.”

A pause on the other line. “I’m coming over,” says Mr Innis.

“I can bring her over instead, sir –”

“No, I’m picking her up,” Innis says, as sounds of scuffling are heard in his background. “I know where you live. And, young man, if you so much as try anything funny with my niece, if you dare lay a finger –”

“I have no such intentions, Mr Innis,” Coriolanus replies with just as much conviction.

My tongue did all the work. He licks his lips, extremely pleased he could still taste you on them. “Nellie is safe with me; you have my word.”

“Good to know. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Coriolanus hears the click of the receiver, followed by the dial tone.

The meddling prick.

A sharp sensation in your nose stirs you awake, followed by fingers softly stroking your hair to help you come out of it.

“Sugarplum, I’m sorry to have woken you up, but you were crying in your sleep.”

The compassionate voice of none other than Coriolanus Snow makes you rise at once and assess where exactly you have ended up.

You remember falling asleep on his couch, and yet, here you are, on a bed with his shirtless self, and a just few seconds ago draped all over his lap, apparently crying in your sleep again.

"What was I saying?” you ask as you wipe your tears with your palms.

“You were calling for your parents,” he explains. “I assume you were dreaming about the day they died.”

Damn this day. You just had to fall asleep in his presence. It’s a stupid move, you berate yourself. You extricate yourself at once from what obviously looks like his bed. Coriolanus's eyes follows you with a doleful look. “I had no idea you still had nightmares about them.”

He too, gets to his feet, picking his shirt up from the sheets and putting it back on. What the fuck even was it doing off? He approaches you with eyes cold enough to freeze your blood. “And we know gave us this pain, Nellie. We’ll make them pay for it. Every single one of them.”

You’re relieved when he finally leads you away from his bedroom and back to the living room where your shoes are. You sit on the loveseat so you can put them on, but he’s on his knees at once, assisting you with your shoestraps.

“Your uncle knows you’re here,” he says as he ties your laces. “I told him you had a long day and you were resting. He’s on his way to pick you up. He also mentioned a subtle, tasteful threat of bodily harm if I ‘tried anything funny.’”

He looks up at you, smiling as he brushes his knuckles on your cheek.

“Like I’d ever harm my little sugarplum.”

The two of you retrieve your coat in the foyer, and you quietly thank him for letting you stay at his home. Instead of responding, he just fixes your hair and wipes your cheeks with his thumb, which later brushes over your lips.

Please, don’t let him kiss me…

“Coryo? Please…” you whisper shakily.

But then he releases you, donning a satisfied look. “There, all better.” When you look at him with questioning eyes, he adds, “I don’t think your uncle will ever forgive me if he thinks I made you cry.”

“Th-thanks.”

“You can thank me by getting better,” he says lightly. He leads you to the elevator with his hand on your back. “You have the entire day off tomorrow, so get all the rest you need. In fact, I have something that may help you get better sleep.”

He fishes this small, crimson vial from his pants pocket and places it in your hands. The cork stopper on the bottle is still sealed with wax.

“That should help. Take a teaspoon before you go to bed. It’s a non-addictive formula they developed at the Citadel. Tell me if it works for you so I can get you more.”

You nod and mutter your thanks. “Coryo, can I ask you something?

“Of course, sugarplum.”

“When do you think I can start working for my uncle again? Now that I’ve already finished fixing the code?”

His eyes darken at your question, but he blinks and it’s gone, replaced by simple curiosity.

“Why, sugarplum? Are you that eager to wriggle free from me?” he jests.

“No,” you deny, no matter how much his observation rings true. “It’s just that he’s been looking unwell lately, and he won’t tell me anything. He’ll never tell me if he’s sick or what, and I worry about him.”

What you said is partly true, but you also just want to be done with everything that has to do with him. If you don’t work for him anymore, you won’t ever have to interact with him ever again and be part of whatever he’s building. He’s not your friend, no matter how much he tries to make it look like so. He’s dangerous, you know that, and the faster you can keep him at arm’s length, the better.

“I’m sorry to hear that, sugarplum. I know the past week has been stressful for you. For both of you. But you don’t want to leave the program now, do you? Not when we’re so close to accomplishing what your uncle had started. And if you really want to help your uncle, finish his work, and help build his legacy.”

So, it seems you’re stuck with him, and you’ll still be participating in the trial Hunger Games this Friday.

The air is knocked out of your lungs as you’re pinned against the cold, steel walls of the elevator, and the gasp you let out is silenced by Coriolanus’s mouth latching onto yours.

Having caught you off-guard, you attempt to push him off, but he’s always been leagues above you in physical strength. As his tongue finds yours, you simply close your eyes and let him.

However, just as soon as it happens, he releases you, just in time for the elevator door to reveal the lobby with a ding.

“How about I recommend people I know who’d be perfect as his apprentice?” he suggests as if nothing happened. “After all, I have a track record for finding the perfect one. I’ll have it sent to his desk next week.”

You’re exhausted beyond words, not having the will to snap, so you just nod along. Through the glass doors, you spot your uncle leaning against his car with his hands inside his coat pocket, looking more cross than you’ve ever seen him in public. Still, you have never been more relieved to see him.

You open your mouth to greet him as you step outside, followed by Coriolanus, but Uncle Cas’s eyes land on the tear on your stocking. Acacius Innis’s eyes harden, and the next thing you know, he’s lunging at the younger man behind you. You hear a dull thud, indicating he landed a punch somewhere.

“Uncle Cas, no!” You squeal, wrapping your arms around his torso and attempting to wrench him away from Coriolanus.

“What the fuck did you do, you little – !”

“Uncle, I fell, and I tore my tights. He didn’t do anything!”

Uncle Cas simmers down upon hearing your words. “Is this true?” He asks Coriolanus.

Your friend holds a slightly bleeding lip with his thumb, but he smiles just as disarmingly as if he wasn’t at all fazed by your uncle’s outburst. “Yes, sir. It was merely an accident.”

Your uncle huffs to himself. For a moment, he seems like he's considering punching him again with the way he furls his fist, but then he dips his head in apology. “Then you’ll have to forgive me, young man. I truly am sorry for jumping to conclusions. Are you alright?”

Coriolanus merely chuckles, but it's bereft of any humour. “I was a peacekeeper once, sir. I have certainly taken much worse.”

This was a clear challenge, and you wish with all your might that your uncle wouldn’t take the bait. Fortunately, the older man just tenses his jaw and nods. “Once again, you have my apologies. I thought you had hurt my niece, and it was wrong of me to not reign in my temper.”

Snow straightens to his full height and graciously replies, “I completely understand, Mr Innis. I’d protect Nellie just as ferociously as you would.”

Your uncle all but drags you to the car’s passenger seat and follows you inside, taking his place in the driver's seat. Now, even with everything that happened that day, this is a bizarre sight, as Acacius Innis has not driven a car himself in a long while. You remain quiet as the engine roars to life, almost swearing to yourself that you hear him mutter “insolent fucking cunt” under his breath as he drives off at full speed.

Enter Level 9

Author notes:

Please reblog and comment, it's always appreciated!!

Sorry for any typos, I am not the best of health rn and I will be editing this when I wake up 😊 please stick around!! Snowball has more tricks up his sleeve 😈😈😈

#dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #young!coriolanus snow #young!coriolanus snow x reader #named!reader #x OC2ndPOV #or #18+ only #dark!coriolanus snow fic #dark!coriolanus #dark!coriolanus fic #dark!fic

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kangals · 3 months

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i'm very happy it worked out so that i was able to meet puppy and his breeder today - and also equally happy that i'm not taking him home until later in the week (i've done the 'brand new dog on a worknight' routine before, it sucks). the show was an all-breed with like 700 dogs, so it was super cool to just wander around and be like "oh borzoi! oh keeshond! oh sealyham!" etc etc it really lit up that obsessive-dog-child part of my brain lol. breeder was there doing her grooming prep so i didn't want to take up too much of her time but she was very nice.

little man is so cute! obviously i'm 100% smitten already. i walked him around outside for like 20 minutes, i'm not a great judge of puppies when they're so young (he turns 8 weeks old tomorrow) but i think he's doing great - he didn't shy away from anything or seem nervous, didn't bark (i know that won't last), seemed very curious and engaged. and, importantly, seems to already be used to crates. he's definitely bigger/chunkier than stellina, i don't know if he's like Certifiably HugeLarge but the breeder said he "has good bone" and expects him to be around 70-75lb as an adult. i got all his paperwork done so i'll pick him up early on thursday morning and take a long weekend. exciting!!!

#vet appt on friday to get him established too #no CEA though! whole litter was normal-eyed which is cool. and mdr1 results should be coming back soon #i'll probably embark him at some point anyway to check COI and genetics for funsies #he's definitely white-factored he has a lot more white on him than stellina does

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fallstaticexit · 4 months

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Very excited for this next chapter in my legacy. So much so, I’m dedicated this post to yapping about it a little🥹✨

We get to meet little Adelina “Adie” Brair, who will be 8 & 3 quarters at the start of the story and it will end just shy of her 12th birthday.

We get to see a lot of familiar faces as we spend time with the Briar family. As of now it’s Sonny and his pack (Vera, Amir, Rhys and Ellie) as well as Ezra and Adriana with the occasional pop up from other family members.

This story will be broken up in “seasons”. At the start of the story, it will be fall, where Adie is adjusting to a new routine after her parents pulled her out of public school to be homeschooled after an event that took place during class.

We see more of the issue between vampires vs werewolves

More insight on the world of faeries and the different types of faeries (for example, Edin is a forest fae)

We learn a lot more about Adie’s magic, the origins of dark magic, Adie’s relationship with her parents, her aunt Nora, the dark witch (whom she seeks training from) and many others as she navigates life as a mini witch.

That said, this story takes place 7 months before the end of Fallen Angel, so we won’t see Adie and Edin together for a while but when they do meet it’s truly magically ✨

Speaking of Edin

This story also follows Edin’s life in the Magic Realm as Simeon and Grace’s beloved child and Simeon’s right hand as they navigate the many challenges of running a magic school in the lower realm despite the controversy from upper realm elites.

We meet a few new faces, all OCs, and catch up on some familiar ones. New antagonists. And some old ones 👀. New love stories. And some old ones 👀.

Edin and Simeon spend more time in the lower realm, in the community with the lovely people there.

Edin’s also shy of their 9th birthday and technically isn’t old enough to start school but they sit in on plenty of lectures as they roam the halls of the school.

And if you see what I see in this pic, the answer is yes. They sure did 🥹🤭 it was a small private intimate ceremony and they couldn’t be happier 🎊

So yeah, 🥹 I’m super excited as this will be my more slower paced story telling which will be new for me because I live on x3 speed lol there’s just entirely too much I want to explore with this story that I feel I should pace myself and really push the limits of my story telling. There’s a little bit of everything for everyone. A real treat for long term Brair legacy followers and something new to indulge in if your new to my stories. ✨

First post will be sometime last this week/early next week, there is no posting schedule at this time but you can expect updates 2-3 times a week, so every other day 😌

See you then ✨🍃

#the briar legacy #sims 4 #sims 4 simblr #sims 4 stories #sims 4 legacy #ts4 simblr

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aphroditesbaby1616 · 2 months

Text

The Bear & His Honey - Chapter 11

♡ Chapter Inspo: Song Lyrics; State Of Grace - Red(TV) TS "And I never saw you coming, and I'll never be the same"

♡♡》》𝟙𝟠+ 𝕆ℕ𝕃𝕐 𝔽𝕀ℂ! ℕ𝕆 𝕄𝕀ℕ𝕆ℝ𝕊 𝔸𝕃𝕃𝕆𝕎𝔼𝔻《《♡♡

♡ Summary: Carm goes to see Winnie after a long day at work, Winnie discovers that famous chefs like Carmy have fans & she introduces him to the world of fandom. They have a chat about BDSM and possibly exploring it more.

♡ W/C: 8,384

♡ Posted Date: 03/07/2024

♡ A/N: Helloooo all!! FIRST Just so y'all know for the story - Winnie is like 4'11 on a good day, Carmy/JAW is like 5'7/5'8 - so that's why Winnie seems so 'small' , they really have a normal height difference for a couple lol JAW is a short king. Anywho I saw a post abt. how there are actually fanfics for famous chefs and stuff and I looked it up- it is totally true!!! Loves it, So of course it inspired this chapter hehehe I feel like Carm would totally be an old man and not even KNOW what fanfic is but Winnie is a professional fangirl. Also - I am currently watching TS in Singapore & DBATCxBabe?!?!?!? IM SCREAMING!! Dead dead gone!! I predicted thissss heheheheh

♡ Warnings for BTC: Smutsmutsmut, BDSM talk, OH period sex (sowwy ik some people don't like that but u can skip and winniexcarm will be back next week with some fluffy goodness) getting lazy w these warnings but if you've made it this far in the fic nothing will trigger you i've already gotten most the triggering shit outta the way.

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡

𝒲𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒫.𝒪.𝒱. 🍯

When I heard a light knock at my door, I giddily jumped up from my comfy nest in bed I’d created for myself and dashed over, opening the door right away and Carmy dropped his hand away from the peephole, smirking.

“And what if I was a killer this time, did you even look?” he stepped in the doorway, wrapping his arms around my waist and his hands sliding down to squeeze my bum gently.

I laughed a bit, wrapping my arms around his middle, crossing my fingers, and draping my arms around him lightly. “I guess I was so excited to see you I’d have been dead, kisses now” I puckered my lips up and closed my eyes expectantly.

“Mmm…I’m expecting my test to be aced next time I come over yeah?” he pecks my lips sweetly and I open my eyes, furrowing my brows a bit before giggling.

“Test” I repeated, “You’re testing me?” I rested my forehead against his, gazing into the blue eyes I’d missed so much even though it’d only been 8 hours since I’d seen him last.

“Y’can’t open up the door without checkin’, baby. This is a decent area- but Chicago is fuckin’ nuts” he nudged the door closed with his foot and tightened his grip on my waist slightly, the feeling of the calouses over his fingers causing goosebumps to rise over my flesh..

“Fine, but only cause I’m sooo obedient..for you” I pulled him into another kiss, wrapping my fingers in his frizzy curls and humming happily. I ran my tongue over his, enjoying the taste of tobacco and the minty gum he must have gotten rid of just before he got here. I feel his tense muscles relax slightly under my touch as I gently scratched my nails against his scalp. We made out for a few heavenly minutes, our noses bumping sweetly, him running his hands up my waist to my lower back, rubbing soft, soothing strokes back and forth.

He pulled away slightly, causing my eyes to flutter open and find his gaze. “Hm?” I questioned and he smiled a bit.

“I uh- I smell like work, I need to shower, honey” he kissed my forehead tenderly, his lips lingering for a sweet moment.

I buried my face in his neck, inhaling deep and dramatically, letting out a satisfied hum which made him laugh, his chest shaking with movement.. “Mmmm…you smell soo good I love the way you smell Carmy, a little kitcheny, but still you,” I mumble into his shirt and he rubs up my back, his nails brushing over my ribs..

“You are fuckin’ weird babe,” he said, causing me to giggle and look up at him, resting my chin where it met his sternum and gazing up at him with a cheeky grin.

“Better get used to it, go and shower, pretty-boy- I can give you a massage after and everything if ya want. And I promise I’ll control myself this time” I said, pulling away with a step back. “Maybe” I added and he chuckled, grabbing his backpack from where he dropped it on the floor and heading to the bathroom.

“We both know you have shown little self-control around me while shirtless” he nudged it open, zipping open his backpack and dropping his usual grey sweatpants and boxers on the bathroom counter before tossing the bag on the floor.

I gasp playfully at his accusation, “I’m Sorry- are you calling me thirsty?” I stood in the doorway, arms crossed with a playful grin.

He hummed and shrugged, turning on the shower and tugging his hoodie off, and undershirt as well. Of course, I watched- what male-attracted person wouldn’t watch him undress if given the chance?

He brushes his hair back from the ruffling of the fabric, turning to pull the shower curtain open and I got the stellar show of watching his toned muscles flex beneath his skin as he does so.

He reached down, unbuckling his belt, the metal buckle jingling as he pulled it off with one long tug, an action that had me readjusting my stance in the doorway to ease the now pulsing ache between my thighs.

He unbuttoned his jeans, pulling the zipper down casually, and stepped towards the door, breaking my trance. “Mmhm…thirsty” he said softly with a smirk, pecking my lips before shutting the door in my face.I scoffed, blinking a few times in surprise and my cheeks going hot at the very true accusation.

“Oh wow! Wow! A girl can’t enjoy free eye candy in her own damn house in which she pays the bills!?” I called through the door as I headed to my room with a smile, hearing him chuckle a bit.

I laid back on my bed, opening my phone and going back to my scrolling on Tik Tok. It was about 10 minutes of senseless scrolling while listening to the water run- before, for some strange reason, I had the urge to click the search button and type in Carmy’s name.

It felt…a little creepy. But- I pushed the shame off telling myself its normal to want to see someone you’re seeing’s social media, so I decided to feed that little voice in my mind telling me it was a good idea.

And boy was it a great idea.

The first 20 or so videos were absolute fan-cams of Carmen from different interviews he’d done for different events, award shows, etc. and the comments were absolutely filthy- and also spoke to my very soul for the way he made me feel..

‘Oh- I KNOW it’s big- FS fs!!’

‘I need him in a way thats concerning to feminism- like..strip my rights away’

‘He seems SO unhinged&crazy abt his craft…I NEED him’

‘Chef- more like DADDY’

‘You KNOW he's ripped, look at the armsss- and the HANDS?! NEED EM AROUND MY MF THROAT!!!’

Each comment i’d read I was giggling more, but then- an even better thought popped into my mind, if theres fancams… There has to be fanfiction.

I nearly sprained a thumb opening my Tumblr app and typing in his name in the search bar. I giggled maniacally as if I just struck gold about 5 minutes later of digging through reposts of photoshoots he’d done fore magazines that I was amazed he didnt post on his personal instagram- when I struck the first one.

Little gasps and giggles left my lips as I continued to read through the post. Being honest with myself, I wasn’t giggling at the people posting- I was giggling because I knew Carm doesn’t have a clue about this- and I can not wait to see the look on his face when I tell him about it.

I was so engulfed in the story of some fantasy someone had about Carm roughly fucking them in over the counter in the kitchen, giggling at the idea, that I hadn’t even heard the shower water cut off.

I wish we could do that in the kitchen after everything was closed - but truth be told, Carmy is way too shy for public stuff, at least right now. But damn- after he leaves me in the mornings? I should be reading up on his tumblr tag for ideas because holy fuck- these bitches are filthy whores in the best way.

The bathroom door clicks open and he flicked off the bathroom light. “What’s all the gigglin’ out here missy?” he asked amusedly, coming over to now his side of the bed. I looked up to see him shirtless, clad in the light grey sweatpants I’d come to love so much that hung low off of his toned hips.

“Uh-” I said, the meer view of him completely erasing all previous thoughts from my brain. Fuck his curls are so much more pronounced when they’re wet, it drives me nuts. No wonder his chest is so curly…

“TikTok?” he asks when I don’t reply, instead just admiring his frame, kneeling on the mattress and getting in bed next to me and he sees the Tumblr app open with a screen full of text. “Readin’ then, baby?” he asks now, and I realize I still hadn’t said anything, my focus on the little curly patch of hair that adorned the middle of his chest.

“Everyone wants to fuck you” I said the first thing that came to my mind, my eyes flickering to his finally, and he laughed. His head fell back on the headboard, eyes crinkling up in amusement adorably.

“What?” he asked, poking my side playfully. “Who wants to fuck me? I haven’t gotten any offers as of late other than you, of course” he snorts and pushed his wet curls back off his forehead.

“N-no you’re like…famous, Carm, like- alot of people want to fuck famous chef’s.. I didn’t realize it before but it’s like..a kink? I guess? Like.. how I wanna fuck winged dudes, but some girls ultimate kink is a super sexy, awarded, top of the line chef ” I giggled and his eyebrows raised, a smirk forming on his lips.

“A kink?” he shakes his head amusedly, rolling his eyes lightly. “And who told you this baby. Sadie?” he asked and it was my turn to laugh.

“No! No, It was me, I figured it out… have- have you not looked yourself up on TikTok? People like, they make fancams with the interviews you’ve done at those um- the James Beard award things for the last few years? And the other interviews about how you’ve come up that you did back in New York..they’re like- people want you, Carm, really- like, you have these bitches pussys meowing.” I said with a giggle, smiling wide as a blush crept to his cheeks.

“The fuck is a fancam?” he asks, causing me to giggle.

“You are such an old man sometimes, you know that right?” I pecked his lips and he squeezed my cheeks when I try to pull away, smushing my lips into a dramatic pout.

“I’m only three years older than you, you know that right?” he said and kissed my lips once more before letting me go.

I laugh at his firmness on the matter. “Three years closer to 30, mister 27 and 24, 2 very different check points” I teased and went back to my tik tok likes. His eyebrows raised as he leaned in, wrapping his arm around my waist to pull me closer when he saw my last 13 likes in the previews contained his face.

“Should I be scared?” He mumbled into my neck with a soft chuckle, his minty breath hitting my senses.

“Mmm…Knowing you you’re gonna be all flustered, especially by the comments” I said, clicking on the first one. I smiled as I watched, “Look at that sexy little chef” I teased and he pinched my waist playfully as ‘Serpentine’ by The Gorillaz played in the background.

“S’what- people just like, look at me with music? Wait- why-why does it keep cutting to pictures of my hands from that article?” he questions, causing me to laugh and bury my face in the pillow at his pure obliviousness. “Hey! Tell me do I have weird hands?” he asks causing me to giggle harder.

“Carmen oh my god!” I catch my breath. “You are so oblivious to your hotness, its adorable. No babe, no. Everyone is turned on by your hands, your hands are like…girlporn.” I explained, and his eyebrows raised in confusion, his cheeks bright pink.

“Girlporn.” he repeats, and I nodded enthusiastically with an amused smile.

“I don’t believe that- I think y’re all makin’ fun of my hands, open the comments” he said and I roll my eyes playfully, obliging and reading some of my favorites out loud.

“Wow- these girls get me, Carm. ‘I know its big’ , ‘I need those hands around my neck-oops.’, ‘do you think he’s as passionate in bed as he is about the kitchen?’ oooo- I wanna reply and say yes to that one” I giggle and he takes my phone from my hand, scrolling. The light on his face accentuated his blush and he bit his lip in concentration as he scrolls.

“Who are all these people” he muttered to himself, causing me to laugh a bit.

“Your fanclub baby, I told you - people love you, and they love what you do and the passion you have for it” I kiss his shoulder gently. “You haven't even read the fanfiction yet” I giggled into his skin and he looks down at me, offering the phone back quickly.

“Show” he ordered, and I laughed. “Seriously, honey! Show! I’m frankly a little freaked out.” he said and I took the phone, going back to Tumblr.

“Babe, its nothing to be afraid of, they’re just horny 20-somethings like we are. And you’re like- mega famous? You’re like….Like- the Harry Styles of chefs! Of course like every bitch in culinary school is gonna be after your dick” I said, causing him to laugh.

“Oh my god- you really are something. C’mon, Read to me, about me- er how people think I am?” he chuckled and got comfy in bed, wrapping his arms around my waist and snuggling me into his chest.

“Mmm so I’m your personal book slash fanfiction reader now?” I said teasingly, resting my head back against his chest and he kissed the top of my head sweetly.

“Mhmm, and we can stay up as late as we want, I have tomorrow off” he said and I gasped happily, looking up at him with stars of pure joy in my eyes.

“You are?” I squeak with a broad smile and he beamed at my excitement, kissing my lips tenderly and resting his forehead on mine.

“Mmmhmm, all y’rs t’morrow babygirl, you workin’?” he asked and I withered a bit, realizing I did, in fact, have obligations tomorrow.

“No- well…kinda, I have therapy at 1, and then I have the rest of the day, but my sessions are 3 hours.” I said my eyes fluttering to his lips before meeting his again.

“Good girl” he said softly before kissing my lips dearly. My tummy flutters, and I feel warmth rush to my core at the name. He doesn’t know how much praise like that does to me.

I delicately run my fingers through his damp curls, opening my mouth for him and humming in satisfaction at the minty taste that flares across my tongue almost instantly. I looped a curl around my finger absentmindedly, relishing in the taste of him.

I interlaced our legs together, so every bit of possible flesh was being touched by him, soothingly running my calf along his. He huffs a small laugh into my mouth before pulling away.

“Are we close enough now baby?” He kissed my jaw gently and nuzzled his face in my neck. I smiled wide, interlocking the fingers of my free hand with his.

“Nope” I respond jokingly. Abruptly, I was being rolled over on top of him with one swift motion, only needing one of his arms to flip me like a ragdoll. I squeak in surprise, catching myself by straddling his hips with my thighs tightly and wrapping my arms around his middle, my phone lost someplace in the mass disarray of the blankets.

“There we go angel, can’t be closer.” he said, pleased at his work. He wrapped his arms around my back and tucked his hands under my shirt, rubbing long strokes over my skin.

“Mmm” I said happily, comfortably tucking my icy hands between his warm muscular back and the mattress “sooo warm” I said, giggling a bit when I sense him shiver slightly at the contact.

“Jesus babe. Why the fuck are y’r hands so cold” he murmured, gently grazing my back with his short nails causing my eyes to flutter shut in ecstasy

I sighed softly in appreciation “keep doin’ that bear, it feels really good” I expressed, nuzzling my face in the crook of his neck comfortably.

“Course babygirl” he said tranquily, causing a small smile to form on my lips.

“I love it when you call me names…” I said calmly into his skin, gently kissing his neck.

“I love it when you call me Bear” he replied lightly, squeezing my hip with the free hand that wasn’t doing the scratching.

“Good cause I love calling you Bear, it fits you, baby.” I kissed his jaw adoringly before sitting up slightly, resting my hands on his chest for support.

“Alexa, lights out bitch.” I said loud enough for the speaker to pick up, before laying back down.

“Okay, lights out, bitch.” The speaker replied before my tv shut off, as well as my lamps, the only glow in the room being my soft fairy lights. I feel Carms chuckle beneath me and I look down at him.

“I can’t with you..Y’re not gettin’ out of reading that to me, y’know. I wanna know what people think I’m like” he said and I roll my eyes with a smile.

“Fine- but I was only sparing you, a lot of the stuff they wrote is really filthy and I know you’re kinda shy” I settle back on his chest, holding my phone to the right of his shoulder where I could see.

“Now I’m really interested” he snorts and I roll my eyes.

“This one, is called Yes, Chef” I whispered the title in his ear seductively and nibbled at his earlobe, giggling when I felt his palm come down on my ass in a gentle spank.

“Cut it with the theatrics and read, honey” he said with a smile

“Okay! Ok fine. Here’s the summary; ‘Valerie is a 20 year old college student, who got a summer job as a food runner at Chicagos finest restaurant- The Bear, with world famous chef prodigy Carmen Berzatto, things got hot and heavy on her first day in the kitchen.’ ”

I read and he snorts a laugh. “Wow ok so firstly- she can’t even drink, way too young for me, and second- her first day?! Jesus people must think I’m a fuckin’ douchebag. The prodigy thing was a nice touch though.” he said simply and I giggled.

“Just wait. It’s not supposed to be like…realistic. It’s only a fantasy.” I explained and started reading. A few paragraphs in when it started to hit the plot point, he interrupts.

“Okay- what?” He laughs and I look up at him, an amused smile on his lips.

“Have you ever seen me wear rings in the kitchen? Ever?” He questions, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh my godddd” I groaned dramatically, giggling into his chest. “Carmy! Fantasy. The rings have purpose, just wait.” I said and he rolled his eyes, leaning down and kissing the top of my head.

“Fine. Continue, but this isn’t realistic. Rings are so unsanitary baby I’d never wear them in the kitchen” he rubs over my back gently.

I continued on getting through a few more paragraphs before my sneaky eyes betrayed me, reading slightly ahead “ooo this is where it gets really good babe. ‘I could barely reply, and he must’ve known that because he lets out an almost mocking laugh, and growls in my ear “like that mm? Little slut loves getting filled out by her boss on her first day?” he spanks me so hard the sound bounces off the walls, and I’m sure there will be a bruise-“

“Okay woah- I’d never hit you that hard what the fuck” he said, a bit shocked causing me to giggle.

“Why not?” I look up at him and his eyebrows furrow in concern.

“You want me to hit you during sex?” He questioned, his hands going still on my back. I shrug a bit, thinking it over.

“I’m more of a praise person, but if degradation like that gets you off- I think it’s hot. But…scenes like that where it’s all rough- it’s pretty emotionally draining. I’d just need more aftercare.” I said softly, gently tracing over the triangle on his chest with my forefinger absentmindedly as I spoke.

“Like…BDSM? You’re into that?” He asked and I put my phone down, nodding a bit.

“Yeah..I mean- yeah. You aren’t?” I asked, slightly anxious for the answer.

It didn’t bother me if Carm only wanted to have the same vanilla-esc sex we’d been having, but I would be much more fulfilled sexually if he would try more daring things out with me.

“I-I’ve never um…done it. Like- not…not anything real like- spanking, sure- but I’ve heard it’s like a whole…culture of stuff, and I don’t- I don’t really understand it.” He said quietly, his cheeks going pink.

I smiled a bit, leaning in and kissing his lips tenderly, gently cupping his cheeks and rubbing my thumbs along his stubble. Had he even went home, or did he come straight back here? My heart fluttered at the idea of him being so excited to get back to me, he didn’t even bother stopping at home.

“We can learn what you like, together baby.” I said softly when I pulled away, gently stroking his cheekbone with my thumb.

“What do you like?” He asked, equally as quiet as he gazed into my eyes. I could see all the curiosity behind his icy blues, and it almost made me giddy that I was the one who got to properly introduce him to this world.

“The part of BDSM I like, is more psychological control than physical. I do like bondage, I love breath play, impact play is a maybe. I like being spanked, I’ve thought about belt play for sure - but I do not want you to slap me across the face or shove me around in like… a mean way. But what really turns me on is the dom-sub dynamic outside the bedroom. I’ve never had like- a real dom but I’ve wanted one. A soft dom... But I don’t do like…hookups, or friends with benefits. I want it intertwined in to my actual romantic life..which can be kinda hard to find. But…I could see you being really good at the soft dom thing.” I expressed, playing with his curls gently as I talked with my cheek flush to his chest.

“I know what Dom and sub is..but what’s soft Dom? Like- a Dom that isn’t good enough er- like.. Strong enough to be a full dominant?” He questions and I sit up from his chest, my gaze meeting his one more quickly.

“Baby, no…no. Absolutely not. You are fucking amazing. A soft dom is a preference. Just like I said how I love praises, soft doms use rewards more then punishments. Instead of demanding something out of a sub, like- forcing it out of them, they’ll give an order a precise order, and patiently wait for their submissive to follow it, and then they reward their sub, instead of punishing because they were made to wait or something... That’s an attitude I think you’d take on really effortlessly, just cause of your job and the tolerance it requires” I explained and he nodded a bit, his hands once more continuing to rub soothing strokes along my skin.

“So…you like being told what to do, but in a nice way?” He questioned, and I nodded with a smile.

“Exactly. And I love praises when I’m doing something you like. Soft dom’s aren’t about humiliation or degradation, which I don’t think you are. Just from what we’ve done…but- do you like degrading?” I asked and he bit his lip for a moment as he thought.

“No…no- I dunno…I don’t wanna hurt your feelings baby, isn’t the point of sex to feel good?” He questioned and I gently stroke his cheek, my heart turning to goop at his honesty in the question.

“Mmhmm, some people feel good when they’re being mean like that though. It’s all consensual, I think if I was into that it would be because I want to take back control, y’know? In a way, being slapped around as a woman- I guess in a situation that you’re controlling it can help us feel…safer?” I shrug a bit “but you aren’t a sadist Carm, we don’t have to do that.” I rest my cheek back on his chest, continuing to rub my fingers over the little curly patch of hair in the middle of his pecs.

“Well t’me it would just feel…wrong? Like..to call you a slut or something.” I giggled a bit, resting my chin on his chest again to look at him.

“You can do it in a nice way y’know? I’m talking about like- for instance ‘all you’re good for is being a slut’ I don’t like that. But if you were like ‘That’s it my good little slut you’re doing such a great job for me’ I’d probably love it. Because to me it’s like- If I’m your slut, if I belong to you.. it’s different than being just a slut- I guess I probably have a bit of an ownership kink.” I giggled and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Where’d you learn how to talk like that Jesus” he muttered, his hands sliding down and squeezing my ass firmly. “I…” he trails off for a moment.

“What baby? Tell me” I said encouragingly.

“I think..” he clears his throat. “I think I like praise too?” He said his cheeks going flaming red at the admission. “I-is that normal f’r guys t’like that?” He asked quietly, clearly anxious that he’d possibly said something wrong.

“Yes, yes baby, thank you for telling me, what kind of praise do you like?” I asked, gently tracing the veins along his neck with a feather-light touch.

He swallows thickly, goosebumps covering his skin. “Um..I- I dunno…but it- I-I guess the idea sounds nice? C-can you give me some examples..maybe?” He asked nervously, his thumbs rubbing circles into the flesh of my bum that he was still holding on to firmly.

“Mm..well it’s not so much of an example as it is a real thought I just haven’t said out loud.. when we were in the shower and you were all bossy telling me to bend over, that was so fucking hot. I think about it all the time when I’m getting off, it always gets me there.” I smirk, gently playing with his chain between my fingers, tugging lightly.

His pupils dilated, drinking in my words and I could see that he was contemplating something behind his gaze. “So…you like it when I give you orders like that? Like..Bossin’ you around? I honestly felt kinda bad after” he said softly and I nodded.

“I love it. Also when you praised me for how well I take your huge cock, that was so good baby.” I kiss his neck, gently nipping the sweet spot below his pulse point and he groans softly, his grip on my ass tightening.

“Fine… Then get on your back.” He said lowly, his voice husky with lust. Without a second thought, I plop on my back, spreading my legs to make space for him.

“As you wish.” I said with a satisfied smile and he straddled me, his weight pushing me into the bed and he held himself up by his muscular arms on either side of me, caging me in. His chain dangled in front of my face teasingly, and I took it between my teeth.

“Fuck you look so hot like that baby” he said softly, causing my proud smile to grow.

I dropped it from my teeth “I want you to own me Carmy” I said softly, my hands trailing up his muscled chest.

“Ye’ baby? You wanna be mine?” He kissed my neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. My eyes fluttered shut, my stomach full of a swarm of butterflies, and my core on fire. I gasp in pleasure as he nips the spot on my neck that drives me wild, my chest arching up and becoming flush with his.

Suddenly, I’m reminded of my current situation.

“Wait” I said softly and he immediately stopped, pulling away and sitting up slightly.

“Did I do something?” He asked nervously, carefully pulling down my shirt that had been pushed up in the heat of the moment.

“No…it’s…” I blushed, covering my face in embarrassment. “It’s my fault- We can’t t’night I’m sorry,” I said shame lacing my voice. I feel his hand around my wrist, gently tugging.

“Honey, look at me- what’s wrong?” He pulled my hand to his lips and kissed it gently.

“I’m- I’m on my period and…I don’t wanna disgust you so- so no.” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest, staring at the ceiling more annoyed with myself than anything.

“If it’s a me thing baby- I don’t care. I’ll wear a condom if you want, we can put down a towel. I’m definitely not afraid of a little blood.” He said sweetly, gently resting his hands on my hips and squeezing affirmingly.

I felt a hard lump in my throat, and tears began pooling at the back of my eyes as my lip begins to quiver. He noticed and his lips curled into a small frown “we- we don’t have to angel, I’m just telling you that I don’t care if you’re bleeding- It’s- it’s fine, princess, we can just cuddle” he said gently and I nodded.

“I know-“ I whisper, the tears making their way to my lash line and threatening to spill over.

“Then why’re you cryin’, pretty girl?” He gently swipes his thumb under my eye, collecting the tears that had gathered.

“Cause” I sniffled. “Cause you’re perfect Carmen.” I cup his cheeks and pull him into a deep kiss, my eyes squeezing shut and more tears falling down my cheeks.

He pulled away gently “don’t cry Angel, please don’t cry” he whispers, brushing away my residual tears and kissing my damp cheeks before resting his forehead on mine. “Do you want to? I want to, baby. But what I want more is what you want.” He whispered, looking in to my eyes honestly.

I smiled a bit, nodding slightly against him. “Yes” I whisper. “But I just feel…all mushy now- and…I don’t wanna fuck” I said and I saw the disappointment behind his eyes, but of course he didn’t let it show otherwise.

“I want you to make love to me.” I whispered, kissing his jaw tenderly in a line up to his lips. He smiled softly against my lips, humming softly.

“Anything you want, princess.” He said softly before kissing my forehead tenderly.

I smile warmly, my hands trailing up his sides, “let me go get a towel..” I said softly, and he shifted onto his side of the bed, sitting up against the headboard. I sit up and looked at him before getting up, grabbing his hand and squeezing gently.

“Promise if you get grossed out- we’ll stop? A-and…and that you won’t see me differently.” I said meekly, in frantic need of reassurance.

“I told you, honey, you could never gross me out, and being intimate while you’re on your cycle won’t change my feelings for you. I love being close to you, nothing could change that” he conveyed sincerely, before bringing my fingers to his lips and kissing gently.

I nod, “ok,” I said quietly. I got up and padded off to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I used the restroom quickly and prepared myself by wiping down with some baby wipes, even though I’d just showered a few hours prior (you could never be too careful) - and washed my hands before grabbing an old towel from the bathroom closet. I took a deep breath to settle my nerves before opening up the door again.

“I just- don’t um…finger me. You can touch me but- no- no fingers..please” I said shyly and sat on the bed, plopping the folded towel on the edge.

“You got it, honey, thanks f’r tellin’ me- now c’mere” he patted his lap gently. I shuffle over on my knees, straddling him and sitting on his thighs gently.

“Can we…can we turn off the lights?” I ask softly and he nodded.

“Whatever will make you most comfortable baby, I’m fine with whatever you want.” He kissed my jaw sweetly.

I leaned down and kissed his neck gently, leaving soft, lingering kisses down and around his throat, trailing down, grazing my teeth along his skin as I did so and kissing his collarbones gently. “You have such a nice chest Carmy” I said softly, kissing the base of his throat sweetly.

“I could say the same thing about you, can I take this off honey?” He tugged the hem of my shirt gently, and in response I sit up and lifted my arms. He slips the fabric off, throwing it somewhere on the floor and sat back, eyes racking over my frame causing my cheeks to heat.

“So fuckin’ perfect.” He mutters, his large hands cupping my breasts and thumbs rubbing over my nipples causing them to perk up almost immediately.

“Do you like my piercings?” I asked softly, one of my hands coming up and cupping his gently. He looked at me as if he was shocked I'd even ask the question.

“Babe- y’re so fuckin’ hot. You have the nicest tits I’ve ever seen. I’m obsessed with these” he squeezes them together for emphasis, causing me to giggle and I felt all of my tension and insecurity melt away.

“Yeah? What do you like about ‘em?” I asked with a smirk, amused at his boyish affinity for breasts, running my hand down his forearm and squeezing gently.

“Fuck yes. So many things. I love how they’re the perfect handful for me, like they fit fuckin’ perfect in my hands honey. And they’re so soft, and so perky, and fuckin’ bouncy- c’mere I need ‘em” he pulls me to him, kissing over my flesh with hot, wet smooches before taking one of my nipples in his mouth and suckling gently, his tongue playing with my jewelry causing me to moan out loudly in pleasure.

I’d never been ravished this time of the month before- and to be quite honest, it was slightly overwhelming just how sensitive I was.

I gasped slightly at the feeling of his teeth gazing at the sensitive bud, my chest arching into him and pathetic whimpers falling from my lips. “Carmy - fuck I love your mouth s’much” I grind my hips into his, feeling his length already rock hard beneath me. He moaned slightly into my skin, the vibrations against my nipple sending a crashing wave of pleasure to my core that caused my hips to buck into his and my hand to fall flat to his chest to try and ground myself, his thumping heart resting beneath my palm.

“Fuck - take these off” I said, tugging at his sweatpants. “I- I don’t wanna ruin them with a stain they’re my favorites” I breathe out, pulling at the waistband more. He chuckles into my skin, pulling away from my nipple with a pop and gazing up at me with dark, lust filled eyes, the blue almost completely swallowed by the black saucers of his pupils.

“How do you want me angel?” He asked, resting his chin on my breast and not breaking my gaze. His lips were puffy and swollen from the assault on my nipple, glistening with saliva.

“I-“ I felt my cheeks heat, my stomach flipping with anxiety at the realization of the intimacy I really wanted. I swallowed thickly before continuing. “I- I want you to be on top of me…like…like earlier? When you were pressing me into the bed it…it made me feel safe” I brushed a hand through his curls.

A small blush heated his cheeks and he smiled a bit. “Yeah princess? Ok..I liked that too. I wanna see y’re pretty face” he said softly, brushing my fringe away from where it had hidden my eyes slightly.

I kissed his lips tenderly before grabbing the towel, laying it down on my side and smoothing it out. I realized, without the glow of the moonlight pouring in that was cut off by the curtains, it was pitch black on my half of the bed. “Can you- um…open the shade a little?” I ask him when he got up to slip his sweatpants off.

“Course baby, no one can see us right?” He joked, going over and pulling open the curtain and soft moonlight flooded the whole room, just enough.

“I think it’s dark enough in here for no one to get a free show” I giggled, laying back and making sure my hips were fully on the towel so I wouldn’t stain my silk sheets. I sat up a bit, pushing my hair behind me so I or he wouldn’t pull it by accident before settling back down, spreading my legs once more for him.

He stood at the end of the bed, like me, in nothing but his underwear. His large hands curled over his hips as he admired my frame. I blushed, suddenly feeling as naked as I was, and I resisted the urge to cover up my breasts with my hands. “You are so fuckin’ beautiful, Winnie” he said softly, kneeling on the bed and coming up to me, wrapping my thighs around his middle and kissing up from my navel to my neck in long, open mouth kisses, marking me with his saliva. The chill of the air conditioning after each kiss eventually brought on a small shiver that turned into raised goosebumps.

“You make me feel so beautiful” I said softly, my eyes fluttering shut and head falling back to the pillow in bliss as he ravished me with adoring kisses over every inch of bare skin.

“Mm well that’s because you are, you’re the most captivating girl I’ve ever seen” he whispered in my ear gently, his voice laced with a certainty that he believed what he was telling me.

I swallowed thickly, my breath hitching when he bites down on my neck gently, sucking on the sensitive skin. “I want to be yours Carm. Only yours- please” I breathe out, my arms curling around his back and fingers drawing little patterns over his muscles lightly. He bit down on my skin harder, sucking roughly.

There will surely be a bruise.

I moaned softly, one of my hands trailing up to wrap in his soft curls and play with them between my fingers. “Yeah?” He mumbled into my skin, peppering kisses down my jaw “Y’want me to own you, baby? Mmm? Y’want everyone to know that you belong t’me?” He asked gently in my ear, his hot breath and husky voice laced with desire hurling waves of warmth to my core.

“Please-please own me Carmy. Make love to me” I begged quietly, my voice trembling with want and anticipation. He rested his forehead on mine, nuzzling the tip of his nose against mine sweetly.

“You’re the only person I’d ever want to make love to, honey” he whispered into my lips before kissing me hungrily. I moan at his words, opening my mouth for him and dragging my tongue across his, needing more of him.

I lifted my hips when I feel hip pat my bum, and he pulls my panties down to my knees, breaking our kiss to trail kisses up my leg before he drapes it over his side to peel off the barely-there fabric, flinging it to the floor before wrapping my leg securely back around his waist.

“I need you” I voiced softly, my fingers trailing down his chest to his snail trail, delicately hooking my fingers in his waistband and pulling him free. His length eagerly pops out and slaps against his stomach, making me smile proudly.

“Do you need me?” I ask quietly, wrapping my fist around his length and stroking him gently, giving him the firm tug he loved.

He groans, his head falling back slightly and eyes fluttering shut as I run my thumb over his slit, spreading the precum all over his rosy head. “Fuck baby- so bad. I miss your pussy so fuckin much” he breathes out, whimpering and grabbing my wrist when I started massaging his tip firmly with my thumb.

“Ah-ah-mmm-baby” he whines, gripping my wrist tighter “fuuck- shit Y’re gonna make me cum, s-stop- please- I-I still wanna fuck you” he whimpered and I gently lowered my hand, continuing to do slow languid strokes over the bottom half of his length and I see his muscles relax as if I’d just taken him right off the edge.

“That’s how it feels when you rub my clit- more or less.” I said and he gently pushes me to lay back, causing me to lose my grip on him.

“I’d say less considering-“ he spread my lips with his ring and forefinger, dragging his middle finger just barely brushing over my clit causing my hips to buck into his palm and a soft moan to escape my lips. “Takes barely anything t’get you worked up baby, you were chokin my cock- not a fair comparison” he teased with a smirk, leaning in and kissing me warmly.

I cry out in his mouth when he flicks his finger over the extremely sensitive bud, “see baby? Y’re already so worked up… I love those sexy little noises you make” he hums in my ear, rubbing me in achingly slow circles.

“Oh- fuck yes- yes-yes Carmy just like that” I whine out, tightening my heels in his back to pull myself closer. He adds more pressure and I gasp out, grinding my hips against his hand, so aching for more friction he barely had to move his fingers to get me off at this point.

“That’s it honey” he leans down, taking my nipple back in his mouth and my core clenches around nothing which he feels beneath his hand causing him to smile lightly, his tongue flicking over the nipple.

I let out a breathy “ahh” at the wave of pleasure that washes over my core at the action.

“Mmm you’re humpin’ my hand like a horny little bunny right now baby, it’s adorable” he mutters into my skin and I smiled lazily, opening my eyes to look at him.

“Not my fault your hands are better at the job then mine are” I circled my hips, and he took back over, rubbing quicker but lighter circles into my heat that made my stomach tighten and head fall back on the pillow with a breathy “oh”. My breathing quickens, my core tightening, that familiar building beginning to wash over me and my eyes twisting shut, nose scruching in focus.

“Y’gonna cum f’me, bunny? Mmm? I know that adorable face baby, you close? Y’gonna cum f’me angel?” He cooed teasingly, kissing my collar bones and nipping gently. I whimper at the use of the new name, my eyebrows furrowed together in pleasure.

“Ah! mm-mmhmm” I managed to ramble out, my mind going blank other than the overwhelming tightness in every muscle.

“Hey, hey, lemme see those pretty eyes, princess” he kisses the corner of my mouth sweetly. “Mm? Please Baby? Can I see those pretty eyes while you cum for me?” my eyes fluttered open and met his, seeing him smiling sweetly. “Oh you are such a mess and we’ve barely started angel, such a good girl- my good girl” he said, and with that- I was thrown over the edge into my orgasm full force.

My hips bucked up, my clit pulsing, warmth flooding every inch of my body as the pleasure overtook me. “Yesyesyesyes” was all that I could manage to get out of my mouth, my breathing ragged. I pulled him to me, kissing him feverishly, the sound of lips the only audible while I rode out my high.

“I need you” I mumbled between hot, wet kisses. “I need you inside me,” I said, before kissing him again.

He adjusted my hips, pulling away briefly and ripping open a condom with his teeth that he blindly grabbed from my nightstand he’d left out for us a while ago, and rolled the latex over his throbbing member. “Ribbed huh?” He raised his eyebrows teasingly and I giggled.

“More fun f’me- especially with a huge cock like yours” I pull him back to me with my legs and chuckled as he lines himself up, holding himself up with one arm.

“I’m honestly surprised you can take all of it.” He said, nudging his tip in and I moaned, dropping my head back and eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck” he grunted, pushing in deeper. “Y’re fuckin tight babe- are you sure y’re ok?” He looks up at me and in response I nod, my jaw dropped wide in pleasure and eyes shut lightly, breathing heavy.

“Fuck- oh my god please- please- more” I begged him, grabbing his hand and interlacing our fingers. He gently kissed my forehead as he pushed himself into me to the point our pelvises were flush and I let out a loud whiny cry at the sudden pressure.

“Yes fuck- I feel so full-s’good” I whine out. He moaned softly as he thrusts out to the tip before going all the way back in, the ribbed tip of his cock brushing right up against my g-spot in a way that makes my hips jerk and I let out a soft “ah”, stars forming behind my eyes. He wrapped his forearms around my thighs, pulling me higher up in his lap and wrapping his arms around my back, holding me over the bed with his hands on my shoulderblades as he started a quick snap of his hips, moaning out as his head fell back.

“Fuckkk baby. Y’re so fuckin’ good t’me letting me have you like this- shiiit- s’fuckin’ tight baby y’re swallowing my fuckin’ cock right now” he grunted out in absolute ecstasy.

But it fell on deaf ears because this new position he had us in had me swimming through an ocean of pleasure and I couldn’t think of anything other then how deep he was, and how he was hitting spots I’d yet to discover myself or with any other partner. I could feel him in my stomach - and I’d have thought before now, someone so big would hurt, but it was as if we were molded for each other's bodies, he filled me up like a fucking puzzle piece.

“Mm? How’s it feel baby? You ok?” He slows down his movements, breaking me from my trance and I cupped his cheeks, resting my forehead on his.

“Carmen” I whisper, my hands trembling with pleasure.

“What? What- baby, am I hurting you?” He asks his voice laced with worry.

“No- no. I need you- I- I need you to keep fucking going. Don’t stop. Unless I tell you. To stop. Understand me? I’ve never felt so fucking amazing- I can’t even think baby- I can’t even fucking cum right now- i’m trying to process this level of pleasure, you’re fucking me dumb right now- please, please don’t fuckin’ stop.” I rambled out and stroke his jaw gently and he continues his slow pace. “F-Faster, and harder. Please” I said, kissing him deeply and moaning into his mouth when he did so.

I pulled away, gasping in pleasure as he thrusted into my gspot, my hand gripping his shoulder and the nails digging in to the skin, causing half moon shapes “there” I squeaked, my eyes screwing shut. He rested my back against the headboard for support, before snapping his hips faste straight into that spot. The only sounds in the room were now his soft satisfied grunts, wet sounds of him drilling into me, the clapping of skin, and short sweet little ‘ah…ah…ah…’ noises spilling from my lips unintentionally at the force of his every thrust.

Before I could even warn him, my walls are pulsing and fluttering around him wildly as one of the most intense orgasms of my life crashed over me like a tsunami, my hips bucking wildly and thighs quivering uncontrollably. I cry out, my back arching up and my fists white from grabbing the sheets so hard. I could have sworn I felt one of my nails crack under the pressure of my grip.

“Mmmm- cumming- cumming!!” I muttered urgently between heaving breaths when I could finally get a coherent word out, causing him to whimper softly as he continued on the same pace to his release.

He grips my hips tight enough to bruise, his head falling forward as he chases his own release “fuck- gah- me too babe- ah” he grunted as he spilled into the condom, laying me on the bed gentle as he could in his exhaustion and limply collapsing over my frame as he catches his own breath.

He lets out a breathy moan as my walls continue pulsing around him as I come down from my own release “holy fuck babe.” He breathes in to my skin, “fuuuuck” he sits up slightly, pulling me in to a heated kiss. I hum softly, my mind still fuzzy but happy he didn’t pull out right away.

Once he pulled away from the kiss I smiled lazily, utterly fucked out from one round. “That was so amazing Carmy. I’ve never came like that before- like- that was a round three kinda orgasm, you did sooo good Bear, thank you” I said sweetly, playing with his chain gently and adjusting the pendant.

“It was perfect honey, ‘took me so well” he kisses down my jaw and neck, I hummed in satisfaction.

“Don’t pull out yet, I wanna stay like this, please” I said softly, running my fingers over his back. He chuckled softly into my skin

“Okay babygirl, whatever you need” he gently brushed my hair out of my face and cups my cheek. “I like it when we get to be so close like that…when we have sex” he said quietly, bringing a smile to my lips. “Me too” I whispered, leaning in and kissing him tenderly.

➵ 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

#carmen berzatto #the bear fic #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fanfiction #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto x oc #carmen berzatto x oc #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #the bear fx #the bear hulu

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thegreymoon · 15 days

Text

I am really not the target demographic for Red, White and Royal Blue and honestly, the entire premise sounds dumb af from where I'm sitting, but all the gifs that crossed my dash looked hilarious and that main actor is beyond gorgeous, so I am going to give it a shot tonight. My expectations are so low, that unless this movie gets a shovel and starts digging, there is no chance it cannot exceed them. I am so ready to eat my words, just give me some pretty people, mindless fluff and basic comedy and I will be happy, I swear!

***

TWO FUCKING HOURS?

You guys, I'm going to be honest here, I don't think I have it in me to sit through this 😭😭

***

LOL, only a younger brother 🤣🤣 They did not have the guts to go all in and make him the heir to the throne.

Also, lol @ "Prince of England's hearts" but even more so at "whom all the world adores" 🤣🤣 I cannot. I am absolutely not the target demographic for this and I don't think I have it in me to just go along with this, fictional British royal family or not. Who speaks like this? Who even believes it?

Anyway. Abolish the monarchy, Guillotine them all. Long live the glorious revolution!

***

LMFAO 🤣🤣

Well, at least he looks equally disgusted.

If we can't off the royal family, how about we just off this news announcer? Because I am getting so much second-hand embarrassment.

***

LMAO, OK, he gets ONE point 🤣🤣

OK, fine, two points, because he is stupid beautiful and the reason I sat down to watch this in the first place 😤

***

Yassss, girlfriend has great taste!

I'm two minutes in and so far, she's my favourite. I would totally watch a two-hour movie of her touring London and giving commentary on the yumminess of various guys she encounters.

***

LMAO, is he going to get hammered and smash the obscene 75-thousand-pound cake? 🤣🤣

Because why else would they mention that price point and also show the cake in all its humongous 8-tier glory 🤣🤣

Here for the diplomatic incident, ngl, I would totally read the shit out of that in the tabloids the next day 🤣🤣

***

NOOOOO, THE CAKE IS RIGHT BEHIND THEM!

THEY WILL TOTALLY TOPPLE THAT CAKE!

***

Okay, I am laughing 🤣🤣

***

SCREAMING 🤣🤣

I saw it coming from a mile away, but goddamn, it DELIVERED! 🤣🤣

***

I can't stop laughing 🤣🤣

Watching this was such a good decision 🤣🤣

***

LOL, if this was a real-life event, I would spend a week gleefully reblogging it on Tumblr, no lie 🤣🤣

Also, it is a 9-TIER CAKE, not 8 🤣🤣 The more, the messier!

***

LMFAO 🤣🤣

Also, OMG! Uma Thurman! 😍 It's been a hundred years since I watched her in anything!

***

"Sunshine of my heart" 🤣🤣

This movie is hilarious 🤣🤣

***

Wait, Sarah Shahi??

I loved her in Life! I also watched Fairly Legal for her and thought she was stunning in The L Word! I'm forever bitter we never got to see that Nancy Drew adaptation with her in the main role 😕

***

The thing that is the most difficult for me to suspend my disbelief for is the idea that these two overly privileged young men involved in their countries' respective politics are actually nice people.

I keep chanting to myself, "You are not here for realism! You are not here for realism! YOU ARE NOT HERE FOR REALISM!"

To varying levels of success 😕

***

Romantic comedies are so not my genre. And I am so not here for ex-boyfriends or whatever this guy is.

I need Alex and Henry to get back together ASAP and start smashing cakes again because I'm starting to get bored.

***

These are gutter-level jokes.

Seriously, they couldn't get more creative?

***

They have the most basic taste in literature ever. It doesn't even feel authentic, more like what a nineteen-year-old girl thinks good taste in literature should look like.

***

I feel like I am extremely uncharitable towards this movie (the cake thing was funny tho) but it is very hard to take their bland flirting, pedestrian romance and pathetic humour seriously when you're coming into this from 2ha 😕 The standards that have been set are on another planet compared to what we are being given here.

***

Please 😭

And smash another cake, otherwise I don't know how I'm going to make it through another hour-and-a-half of this 😭😭

***

The things I will watch for pretty people 😭

He truly is stupid beautiful and makes this thing infinitely more watchable every time he's on screen.

***

I'm with Henry on this one, this party is like something straight out of my worst nightmares and crushing on the tall, hot guy seems like the only tolerable thing in this whole hellscape.

***

Aww, baby, he is not having a good time.

He wants to kiss him for New Year's too!

***

LOL.

Well. That escalated 🤣🤣

***

NOOOOO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST STARING AFTER HIM?

RUN AFTER HIM AND TELL HIM IT'S OK AND THAT YOU SHOULD CONTINUE SOMEWHERE BEHIND CLOSED DOORS!!

***

And some women! 👀

She's my favourite character in this thing, lol, followed closely by Sarah Shahi and Uma Thurman. And then Prince Henry 😅

***

This guy stands no chance to the level that it's embarrassing he still keeps trying.

I almost feel sorry for him, but I kinda have the feeling that he's going to be the one to out Alex and Henry, so my sympathy is very shallow. Just know when you've lost, my man, and MOVE ON.

#red white and royal blue

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 11 months

Text

Just Let Me Adore You Pt. 8

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: none actually this is pretty cute they just go on a date lol

Genre: Pretty much ALL fluff, it's cute

Summary: You’ve been dating your boyfriend, Bruce, for 3 absolutely blissful years. He’s a scientist and professor who is as smart as he is kind and if anyone asked, you were sure you’d spend the rest of your life with him. That is until two mysteriously charming men that Bruce swears are dangerous take an interest in you that threatens to turn your entire life upside down. I mean… what exactly are you supposed to do with two gorgeous men telling you something that suggests that basically everything you think you know is a lie? And why does part of you have enough doubt to wonder if they might be telling the truth?

Series Masterlist

***

You watch curiously as Wanda shuffles through one of the boxes sitting around the guest room in her apartment. Even though you've been here a few weeks you're avoiding fully unpacking your things since you snuck them out of your and Bruce's previously shared apartment.

"You should really unpack this stuff like how do you find anything if it's all in boxes?" Wanda huffs.

"All the important stuff is unpacked. I didn't really expect to be going on dates. I mean at this point it's a good thing I even managed to go back to the apartment and get the rest of my life from my old place." You shrug. "I dunno if I should bother because like- it's not at if I'm moving in permanently."

"You could! I mean I have the extra bedroom, it's yours if you want it, you're already here. Why not?"

"We'll- talk about it later."

"OH! Where's the dress they bought you?! It's not like you could wear it with Bruce I'm sure. You could break it in now!" She says.

"It's in the other box." You point to where the dress should be and Wanda quickly pulls it out. The dress is a red floor-length off-shoulder number that looks as good now as it did when you saw it in the store. "I can't believe they bought me a dress because they liked my voice." You shake your head.

"I mean the dress is gorgeous. Put it on we have less than an hour before they're meant to arrive and you still have to decide on makeup and shoes and accessories." Wanda hands you the dress and you laugh at her frantic list as you take off your tank top and shorts to put on the dress.

"I need a different bra." You mutter.

"Do you have strapless bras?" She asks.

"Yeah I've got one- I actually hate it but I do have one." You say. You shuffle through a box until you find the bra and switch out your loungewear bra for the strapless. You shimmy on the dress and turn for Wanda to look at it. "Well? What do you think?"

"You know, exactly what looks good on you." She says with a nod.

"Lucky me since I didn't try it on before Bucky and Steve decided to purchase it." You muse.

"Okay, makeup. Do you wanna keep it simple and dramatize with accessories or go with dramatic makeup and keep the accessories simple?"

"I dunno I really like dramatic makeup." You hum throwing a t-shirt over the dress to do your makeup.

"So do dramatic makeup. We can give you a cute pair of earrings and one of those dainty necklaces of yours." She shrugs.

"The sun."

"What?"

"They gave me a sun necklace. Would it be too much to wear that and the dress they gave me? Too definitive on where we stand even though I have no idea how I feel about them?"

"Well it's gold, you'd have to match it with- wait what bag are you carrying?"

"I was gonna go with a black clutch."

"Is it black and gold or black and silver?"

"I have both."

"Well you have to go with the gold one."

"Okay." You laugh.

"Shoes? What shoes?"

"You can pick." You tell her.

"Are all your shoes in the closet?"

"Yes, those I unpacked." You tell her.

"Black heels. That way something in your outfit matches your bag." Wanda holds the shoes in question up. This particular pair of heels has gold detailing on the stiletto, a gift from your mother a couple of years ago.

"Perfect." You tell her. You finish your makeup and slide the shoes on. Your final makeup look is gold eyes and a red lip that matches your dress. You complete your look with the sun necklace and a pair of simple gold hoops.

"You look amazing!" Wanda gushes when you look over at her for a final assessment.

"Well, that's good since it's five after. They should be downstairs already." You say loading your clutch.

"I'll go down with you so I can let them know that if they mess this up I'll have their heads." Wanda says following you out of your room.

"These are mobsters Wanda please remember that before you threaten them."

"What they are is men taking my best friend out. Mobster or not I expect them to treat you perfectly and they should know there will be consequences if they don't."

"Do you intend to tell them you're a witch?" You ask her.

"Absolutely not. Then I lose the mystery factor that makes my threats that much scarier." She shakes her head and you laugh. When you exit the apartment building a man exits the vehicle parked right at the front and walks over to you.

"Miss y/n. Miss Wanda."

"Do we know you?" Wanda quirks an eyebrow at him.

"I'm Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes' driver. They're waiting in the car." The man explains leading you both over and opening the door. Steve gets out of the car to allow you to slide in between him and Bucky.

"Y/n, you look gorgeous." Steve kisses your hand and helps you into the car. Well, it's actually a truck, with tinted windows and spacious seats even with three of you in the back.

"Thank you Steve, hello Bucky." You say. When Steve settles back into his seat, Wanda sticks her head into the car before the driver can close the door.

"Gentlemen. Hello." Wanda smiles and you roll your eyes at her.

"Hello Wanda." They say in unison.

"I just want to make sure they we're all on the same page here. If y/n comes home with anything negative to say about this evening I will put you both in so much pain you won't even be able to scream. Are we clear?"

"We have no intention of seeing anything but happiness on y/n's face tonight Wanda, don't worry." Steve says kindly.

"Good. I will be holding you to that. Y/n, have a good night okay?"

"Thank you Wanda. I'll see you when I get back." You say. The driver waits for her to back up and then shuts the door before getting into the car.

"You look amazing y/n." Bucky says.

"Thank you Bucky." You nod. "Where are we going tonight?" You look between the two men.

"If it's okay with you we'd like to keep it a surprise." Steve says.

"Alright sure. I did give you permission to pick the place." You nod. You watch the streets of New York go by as you're driven through the city until eventually the car stops and the door is opened for you. Steve exits and holds a hand out to you to help you down from the car and then Bucky climbs out after you. Steve keeps his hand in yours and Bucky places one of his at the small of your back as the three of you enter one of the fanciest restaurants you've ever seen. Steve talks to the maitre d but you don't hear what he says, you're too busy looking around at the ornate interior of the place. Everyone in here is dressed to the nines, and despite knowing your outfit matches the environment, part of you feels out of place with the clientele of this place. You're all led to your table in a more secluded area of the restaurant. "This place is- very fancy." You say once you're seated and left alone by the maitre d.

"Are you uncomfortable? We can leave if you'd like." Bucky's voice is soft as he makes the offer.

"No, I'm fine. It was just an observation. I'll admit this isn't my usual scene but I am okay here. Thank you for checking though." You say.

"So this is one of those places that has a set menu, and they just bring out the courses for you once you've sat down. We thought it'd be simpler this way." Steve says.

"Oh okay. That's cool." You say. Just then a waiter brings your first course, a seafood tartlet.

"How have you been handling the new information y/n?" Steve asks.

"Which piece of new information are you referring to? Being a werewolf, my boyfriend lying to me for at least a year, you two being total stalkers, or the fact that your infatuation with me is totally out of your control?" You ask.

"All of it really. Whichever you want to talk about." Steve shrugs.

"Well, the werewolf thing is- somehow the least shocking bit of all of this honestly. That was pretty easy to accept, it didn't inherently change much for me, plus my mom has been pretty open to talking about it all so I at least have help navigating it."

"And- things with the hunter?" Bucky asks.

"I've moved all my stuff out of the apartment so as far as I'm concerned I'm done with him." You say.

"Can I ask what happened? How you, found out that we were right?" Steve asks. Your first course plates are then replaced with the entree which you miss the name of when it's brought but you enjoy the dish anyway.

"I called my mom about the werewolf thing and when I brought that up to him I just asked him if he knew and I could tell he was lying when he said no." You shrug. "It turned into a big dramatic blowout but the details aren't important really. He lied so I left. That's the moral of the story."

"I'm sorry. That kind of betrayal can't be easy to deal with, and if you ever want to talk about it more we can lend an ear." Steve says.

"It is what it is, you live and you learn." You say.

"Just say the word and you'll never have to see him again." Bucky says.

"Hm that- sounds like a threat on his life." You muse and Bucky simply shrugs. "Is that just how it goes with mobsters?"

"When necessary." He says casually.

"Interesting. I have an unrelated question though, that I've been wondering about all week."

"What's that?" Steve asks.

"If this... werewolf infatuation with me, however it all works, is affecting both of you... am I expected to make a choice at some point here? Between the two of you, I mean."

"No. You don't have to." Bucky says.

"I don't have to? You'd be able to handle that kind of dynamic? Where I just, date both of you indefinitely or, permanently? Because if you're gonna like kill each other over this I don't want anything to do with either of you. I have no interest in being the subject of some sort of contest."

"We've done it before." Steve says.

"Oh so this is just normally how you date?" You ask.

"Well- it's not exactly our default no but, this isn't our first rodeo either." He chuckles.

"You don't think it'll cause problems? Not having me to yourself?" You ask curiously.

"Not at all." Steve says and you turn to Bucky who hums his agreement.

"We told you before, we share most things." Bucky says.

"Okay. Well as long as that's the truth, moving on. I know what you do for work, theoretically, so what do you do for fun?" You ask.

"Theoretically?" Steve quirks an eyebrow at you.

"I mean I've got an idea of what the whole mobster thing could entail yeah but it's not like you're gonna give me the details, are you?" You shrug.

"Do you want details?" He asks.

"We'll tell you anything you want to know." Bucky says.

"Anything? Really? You don't think I'm too innocent to know the inner workings of your crime empire?" Your question is kind of sarcastic but you are curious if they'd seriously tell you about it.

"As much as we want to protect you, we also know that if we want you to be part of our world you need to be prepared for what's in it." Steve says.

"If you choose us we want you as our equal y/n, in all things. Even our business." Bucky says placing a hand over yours.

"So- like I could be part of decision-making?" You ask, mostly to gauge how far this equal partner thing goes. Bucky and Steve glance at each other with a look you can't really interpret.

"If you want to be." Steve nods.

"It's that simple?" You ask skeptically.

"When it comes to you, things will always be as simple as if you want it, it's yours. We'll give you anything you ask of us. Always." Bucky says.

"You two are dangerously charming. Saying all the right things." You hum.

"We'll never make a promise we don't intend to keep." Steve says.

"That's easy to say now." You scoff.

"We know that hunter betrayed your trust in him, so we'll do whatever we need to, to gain your trust and we will treat it with the respect it deserves. The respect you deserve." Bucky says.

"I take it trust is very important to you? Especially with the kind of work you do." You say.

"Precisely." He nods.

"That's good to know." You hum. "So, hobbies. Do you have any or does work take up all your time?"

"We have a few hobbies. I like woodworking." Steve says.

"I like drawing and reading." Bucky says.

"We both do hunting." Steve offers.

"Like with guns or as wolves? Also is it just for sport or do you eat what you kill?"

"Why would we hunt with guns?" Bucky scoffs.

"I mean humans hunt for sport and obviously they use guns and since- I don't think we have the same dietary restrictions as like vampires I imagine there's nothing stopping you from just shooting things for fun because you can." You shrug and Steve chuckles. Your entree plates are then swapped out for a dessert, a layered slice of cake.

"We hunt as wolves. Usually, just things we can eat." Steve says.

"It's not really valuable to kill just for killing sake. We aren't monsters." Bucky offers.

"Monsters no but mobsters yes." You say and Bucky smirks.

"Hunting isn't work, it's a hobby." Steve says.

"Okay, hunting, woodworking, drawing, and reading. Anything else?"

"We- dedicate a lot of time to work. So, not really no." He shrugs.

"How do you intend to have a relationship if you're both basically married to your work?" You ask.

"We aren't married to it. We don't have much else to pour energy into yet so we dedicate our time to work but it's not the kind of thing that would take over our lives if you were in it." Steve shakes his head.

"How do you know?" You ask.

"The job hasn't always been our life." Steve says.

"And we have capable people working for us. We feel confident stepping away when we want to. There just hasn't been much worth pulling us away." Bucky says.

"Don't read into this question, I'm just trying to learn as much as I can so I make an informed decision at the end of tonight. Do you realistically believe I'd be worth pulling you away from work?"

"We already know so." Steve says immediately. Bucky pulls out a phone from his pocket and places it on the table.

"This phone only calls your security detail. They are the only ones with the number." Bucky says.

"Sorry, are you still having me followed?!" You blink at him. Your gaze snaps between the two men. "I want an answer and it better be the truth." You say when neither of them speaks.

"We don't trust your ex." Steve says.

"That is not the question I asked you." You frown.

"Not... fully." Bucky says.

"Not fully?"

"They aren't following you like before they just check in." Bucky says.

"I don't need your men to check in on me. That's ridiculous. You make it sound like I'm in danger." You say.

"We won't call them off. I know you don't like them but we have to take precautions especially because you've been seen with us. We- have enemies and we will not leave you vulnerable to them." Steve says firmly.

"I don't like this. But I also don't like being an exposed target so- I'll yield." You say crossing your arms.

"Thank you." He says quietly.

"I have one last question, and then we can call it a night." You say.

"Anything you want to know." Bucky says.

"Since you guys have been like- basically stalking me for a few months is there anything you don't know about me? I feel like I'm at quite the disadvantage here."

"We didn't do a deep dive into your personality or anything. We really just know general things, your job, your old address, age, birthday, and some things we could observe like that you'd rather walk than take a cab and you'll sooner call someone than send a text, and at work when the store's empty and you're reading at the counter your face gives away all of your thoughts when you're enraptured." Bucky says.

"Woah." You mutter.

"We don't know much, not anything that anyone who worked with you wouldn't be able to find out but you learn a lot from observation." Steve says.

"Clearly."

"Any last questions y/n?" Bucky asks.

"What do you want out of this? Out of me?"

"We want to make you happy. Whatever that means." Steve says.

"No, I want you to be selfish with your answer, not diplomatic. What do you want out of this? What is the ideal outcome in your minds? If you two were writing this story, how would it end?" You ask. There's a pregnant pause as you're sure Steve considers another careful answer.

"We'd marry you. Devote our entire lives to you and in turn, you'd do the same. You'd come into our world, learn every bit of information and run it all with us. You'd walk into every room with us on either side of you. You could say jump and everyone under us would ask how high. In my version of the story, we make you a queen, adored by all. It doesn't all have to be tomorrow but that is how it ends." Bucky says. Steve sighs at the end of Bucky's answer. You're quiet for a long moment as you consider his words. It's dramatic and intense and realistically it should scare you because from anyone else it would come off as psychotic.

"Is it always like this with you two?" You ask after a while.

"What?" Steve asks.

"Steve you're more calculated with your words, everything you say is meticulous, thought out. While Bucky, you seem to be a little more impulsive. If you open your mouth you will say exactly what it is you're thinking, it's why you don't talk as much as Steve, right? You're more likely to say something reckless and Steve stresses when he thinks your words might cause trouble. The if you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all rule." You explain. Steve and Bucky blink at you with clear shock on their faces. "You two aren't the only ones with observational skills." You say proudly.

"That is impressive." Steve muses.

"If she chooses never to see us again after this Steve I will never date another person. I simply can't imagine settling for less, because anyone else would be less." Bucky says to Steve which makes him chuckle and you giggle.

"To answer your question, yes that is usually how things are." Steve says.

"So what happens now?" Bucky asks.

"Now, I'd like you to take me home." You say standing up. Steve and Bucky follow your lead. Steve tosses bills on the table as Bucky walks you towards the door with his hand at your back. By the time you step outside the car you came in is waiting at the curb and the driver is standing by the door. Bucky helps you into the car before getting in behind you, while Steve pulls the door on the other side open and slides in, sandwiching you between them. The drive back to Wanda's is pretty much quiet, only once the car stops in front of her building and the driver gets out does one of them speak.

"Will we see you again?" Steve asks. The driver opens Bucky's side of the car and he steps out to help you out of the car.

"I only promised you one date." You say. "But, if you leave me with the best way to contact you, we'll see." You take Bucky's hand and climb down from the car.

"Your phone." Bucky says. You unlock the device and hand it to him. He inputs his number and then Steve's and gives it back to you.

"Goodnight boys. Tonight was nice." You say.

"Goodnight y/n." Steve says.

"Goodnight." Bucky nods getting back into the car. They watch you walk into the building and don't pull off until you're in the elevator. When you enter the apartment, quietly in case Wanda is asleep, you kick off your heels and let out a sigh.

"How was it? Tell me everything!" Wanda comes rushing down the hall and nearly gives you a heart attack.

"Fucking hell were you just waiting for the door to open?" You ask her clutching your chest.

"Obviously. You went on a date with two super hot werewolf crime lords I won't be able to do anything until you tell me about it!" She says pulling you to the couch excitedly.

"It was great Wanda. They're a little intense honestly, but they were perfect gentlemen and answered all my questions even though I basically spent the night interrogating them. I think I like them." You bite your lip shyly.

"Where did you go?"

"Dinner at some really fancy place. One of those restaurants with a set menu where each course is predetermined and it probably costs like a hundred dollars per person."

"Impressive." She nods.

"Everything with them is. They are-"

"Don't say too good to be true." Wanda points at you.

"I was going to say a surprise actually but too good to be true might be the reality. They talk about me being their equal in all things, like their business, and about making me queen of their empire and devoting themselves to me. It's a little love bomb-y."

"It's only love bomb-y if they can't keep the same energy. Some people just love that intensely and I'd say the fact that they've spent months adoring you without really any promise of reciprocation suggests that's just how they are. Plus werewolves are dedicated partners by nature, I mean it makes sense. Sure it's intense for someone that didn't know they were a werewolf a month ago and it's okay to be cautious, especially after Bruce, but I already told you they're not ill-intentioned." She shrugs.

"All very true things."

"So you'll see them again?"

"I'd like to." You nod.

"Oooo I'm so happy for you!" She squeals jumping up.

"Wanda calm down." You laugh but nothing could possibly chill her out now. Things are changing for the better quickly and Wanda has always been the biggest advocate for whatever makes you the happiest.

***

Part 8/???

Tagged Users: @cjand10 @vicmc624 @mandijo17

#marvel fanfiction #marvel #stucky fanfic #stucky x reader #stucky fluff #stucky smut #stucky #stucky angst #werewolf bucky barnes #werewolf steve rogers #werewolf au #Just Let Me Adore You #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers

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angelasscribbles · 6 months

Text

The Crown and the Shield Chapter 8: Healing

Series: The Crown and the Shield

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Constantine x Jackson

Word Count: 922

Rating: PG

Warnings for this chapter: none

Special thanks to @aussiegurl1234 for her input.

A/N: So, we finally come to the final chapter of this “one-shot” lol. I hope it meets expectations.

My other stuff: Master List.

“Today is the one-year anniversary of the Madrid Peace Summit Massacre,” the news anchor addressed the camera.

“It was a dark day for all our countries,” His co-host replied nodding her head sympathetically, “Isabella Hasapis was forced to take the Auverness throne when both her parents were killed, making her the youngest monarch in their history, ascending the throne at only sixteen. In Monterisso, the late queen’s sister was appointed as regent until crown princess Amalas is old enough to rule.”

Constantine turned the volume of the TV up as his mind ran back in time to the worst day of his life.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” the white-coated doctor stood with his hands in his pockets as he delivered the news, “We did everything we could. Heroic measures were employed but the injuries from the gunshot wounds were too grievous, and we were unable to save him.”

Constantine’s body shook with sobs. He let himself be led to a chair. He sank into it and dropped his head into his hands. He gathered his emotions as best he could and lifted his head, “And her?”

“I’m sorry, sir, again, the extent of the injuries-“

“So I’ve lost them both?”

“I’m very sorry for your loss. Would you like to see your wife now?”

“Connie, why are you watching this?” Eleanor took the remote from his hand and clicked the TV off just as the footage of his remarks from the south lawn of the palace earlier in the day began to play.

He turned to her with tears in his eyes, “It was the day I lost both my parents. The day I almost lost you. I don’t know how Leo and Liam would have-“

“Hey, we don’t have to worry about that. I’m here. I made it and so did you.”

“Thanks to Jack.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “Thanks to Jack. Speaking of him…don’t you have somewhere to be?”

He glanced at the clock on the wall and jumped to his feet, “Shit! Yes! I have to go!”

“It’s fine, go!” She shooed him out of their private living room, one hand at the small of her back and the other resting on her burgeoning stomach as she felt the baby kick. “Settle down, Lena. You have a month left in there.”

She missed her in-laws, but she was grateful that both she and her husband had been spared. The bullet had hit her in the side. There had been a lot of blood, but no major organs had been damaged.

She would have joined the king, but she was on partial bedrest for the duration of the pregnancy. She had told Constantine to give her love to the Walker family. She would be forever grateful for the sacrifices made that day.

Constantine stepped out of the limo and approached the group gathered around the gravesite. He made his way to Bianca and swept her into a hug before doing the same with Drake and Savannah in turn.

He stepped forward and touched the cold marble of the marker, his fingers tracing the etching. His throat constricted as he croaked out, “He died a hero.”

“That he did. He stepped right in front of that bullet.”

Constantine turned toward the voice with a solemn expression, “So did you.”

“Damned straight I did! And I’d do it again!”

The king pulled the other man into a tight embrace as he fought back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him, “Don’t joke about that, Jack, I almost lost you that day!”

It had been touch and go for two weeks. Constantine had never left his side.

“I’m not joking,” Jackson hugged him back.

Constantine had tried to get him to transfer to a less dangerous position, but Jackson had refused. There was no one else he trusted to safeguard the man he loved.

“Eleanor sends her love to all of you,” Constantine pushed out of Jackson’s arms and turned back to the monument, “We know how much Bastien meant to you.”

“He was like family,” Bianca agreed.

“He didn’t hesitate to take that bullet for her,” Jackson removed a flask of whiskey from his jacket pocket and held it up to the monument in salute, “Here’s to the best junior officer I ever had the privilege of training.”

“To Bastien!” the little group chorused.

When the gathering was over, Constantine and Jackson walked back to the limo together, hand in hand.

The perpetrators of the attack had all been brought to justice and The Liberation Core dismantled. There was some amount of closure in that.

Eleanor had taken the news of his relationship with Jackson in stride.

“I suspected, Connie. But it doesn’t change anything for me. I love you, and I love our boys.”

The only thing she had asked him for was another child. A chance for a girl and he’d given it to her.

In return, she’d given him complete acceptance of his relationship with Jackson.

He was as happy as he could be while still grieving his parents. He would always miss them, but he had a baby on the way, a queen who understood him, and the love of his life by his side.

Next year for his birthday, Jackson was getting that white water rafting trip. Constantine had already booked it. Just the two of them…give or take a few dozen guardsmen.

He glanced at the man next to him with happiness in his heart. He was healing, Cordonia was healing, and the future looked bright.

~fin

#trr au #trr fanfic #trr fandom #trr au fanfic #choices fic writers creations #tcats #the crown and the shield #angelasscribbles #the royal romance #trr #the royal romance fanfic #cfwc fics of the week #Constantine Rys #Jackson Walker #Connie x Jack #choices stories you play #choices

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angel-eyes05 · 10 months

Text

bite the hand (chapter 8)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

pairing: spider-woman!oc x miguel o’hara

summary: lorena's whole world was taken away from her in the blink of an eye, after she accidentally broke a canon event. lucky for her though, she was able to find a portal watch in her dimension and used it to get out before she glitched out of existence. unfortunately though, running from dimension to dimension, she's been named as an anomaly by the spider society. now, she's constantly on the run from them, their leader in particular. when she eventually gets caught though, she's recruited onto a mission to catch another anomaly who might be from her past. to her dismay though, her partner on this mission is her very captor. will she be able to stop arguing with him for long enough to get the job done?

info: enemies to lovers, maybe a slow burn depending on chapter count, oc is 24 and miguel is 27, both oc and miguel are super sad lmao, they're also both super violent so, they also hate each other what a slay, in regards to my oc you can read her character sheet right here

warnings: there might be spoilers for atsv in this so watch the movie before reading this, i made up some weird rules for miguel's suit and idk if theyre entirely accurate to canon so just go with it, tension lol, cursing, drinking

word count: 3.4k

notes: i gotta start repeating the banners at the top cause i ran out LMAO. also, expect less frequent uploads cause 1) i kinda have low motivation rn and 2) im pretty busy rn (going out, vacations, and doing job applications). writing also gets a little draining for me after a while and i gotta put me first😔✊ ill keep uploading though dw i just gotta do it at my own speed to make sure i dont drop the series cause if i try to push stuff out too fast, im gonna end up dropping it so just bear with me lol. also i didn't proofread this before posting cause its 3:30 when im dropping this, and im so tired lmao

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It was the sun that slithered into the room through the cracks in the blinds that woke her up. Lorena preferred that to the normal wakeup call from a nightmare, or the sounds of honking cars next to her on the street. The way the bed had molded itself to her shape made it impossible for her to move. Almost like it was trapping her in its comfort. Even if the mattress was old, the fact that this had been her first time sleeping in an actual bed, and not a bench, sidewalk, or cot, in months was enough to provide her ease.

She turned to face the other side of the bed, surprised when no one was in sight. Miguel was probably in the bathroom or something. She was more focused on a different fact: this had been the first sleep in weeks without a nightmare.

Huh. Weird.

She sat up in bed, noticing she was still in her robe from the bathroom. She rubbed the drowsiness off her face as the click of the door lock called her attention. Letting in a stream of early sunlight with him, Miguel walked through the door, pitch black sunglasses covering his eyes, a box in one hand, and a cup tray in the other. “Figured you’d be hungry when you woke up,” he said once he noticed she was awake. He softly kicked the door closed behind him, setting the tray on the desk near the door and the box on the bed.

Pulled by curiosity, she moved her hands towards the box and opened it to see what was inside. Her mouth immediately started watering when she opened it to see assorted treats such as conchas, bigotes, and mantecadas. “I was in the mood,” Miguel said, pulling the drinks out of the tray. “I didn’t know how much cream or sugar you liked so I just got you black cause that's what I get,” he said, handing the hot cup of coffee to her.

The smell of the pastries mixed with the coffee was enough to make her want to cry. It reminded of the smells of her aunt’s kitchen in the morning. The bitterness of the coffee stung at her throat, but it was overshadowed by the comfort it brought her. She picked up one of the bigotes, and had to hold back her tears of joy when she took a bite. “Gracias por todo,” she said, mouth full of food and covered in sugar. Miguel smiled at the sight of her. “De nada, cariño,” he said sweetly, taking one of the conchas for himself.

As he walked away with his food, towards the bathroom, Lorena noticed something about him. “Where’d you get the clothes?” she asked, mouth still filled with food. He was now wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. “It’s part of my suit,” he responded, fixing his hair in the bathroom mirror. “¿Cómo?” He sighed. “Remember what I said about the whole nanotech thing last night?” “Yeah, what about it?” Suddenly, the shirt and sweatpants shifted into his blue and red suit just before her eyes. “Woah…” she exclaimed in awe. “I can change its appearance as long as the outfit is downloaded to my suit’s database.” “Oh,” Lorena expressed, even if she still didn’t fully understand what he was talking about.

“Why’d you get to be born in the crazy, futuristic dimension with all the fancy tech,” she complained to herself, just loud enough for Miguel to hear. “Why, do you want one?” he asked, in between a small chuckle. “I mean it would be nice to wear something other than a tight spandex suit for once,” Lorena joked, getting an actual laugh out of Miguel for once. Lorena blushed and smiled at his reaction. “Well lucky for you, you’re gonna need one for tonight,” he responded. “What do you mean?” she asked, after taking a sip from her coffee.

He tossed her a small, golden chain. “The outfit should form around that chain. I had Lyla upload different outfits for the day, since she probably knows better than I do. When you’re ready, put it on.” Lorena admired the golden material. She was lucky she wasn’t a silver jewelry girl. “So what’s on the to-do list for today,” she said, still looking at the chain. “Stay undercover for the majority of the day, then head over to the Moonlit River club at night. Lyla should have that outfit uploaded by now,” he responded, brushing his teeth with the provided amenities in the motel.

“Why, are you finally deciding to take me out dancing to pay me for my troubles,” she joked, taking a sip of coffee after. Miguel spit out his toothpaste and sighed. “Brock meets up there on Thursday nights to trade weapons.”

Silence filled the space between them.

She knew this day had to come. She just wasn’t expecting it to be so soon.

“I see,” was all she could manage to say, before taking another sip of her coffee.

Miguel could feel the turmoil radiating off of her from the bathroom. He washed out his mouth, and splashed a bit of water on his face before walking over to her. He pushed the box of pastries to the side, and took a seat in front of her on the sheets.

“Mirarme,” he softly spoke, using his pointer finger to guide her eyes to his. She looked up at him, trying her best not to get lost in the crimson shade of his eyes. “I-” He cut himself off before he could continue. He melded her hand into his before speaking again. “I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. I want you to know that if this becomes too much for you…you can back out.” His inflection was weird. As if he didn’t want her to, but still wanted to keep her comfortable. A wrestling match between what he wanted and what was best for her.

“And I’ve said it before too. I’m not running away from this,” Lorena said back, voice strong. “Ok. Just know if things get bad for you in there, I’ve got your back,” he said, concern in his voice. He had also found his eyes roaming her face, not realizing they had both subconsciously moved closer to each other. “And I’ve got yours too,” she said back. Once he had realized Lorena’s robe was loose enough to see inside to her chest, Miguel cleared his throat and got up from the bed quickly.

“I’m gonna go into town, see if I can pick up any information on the street. You can do whatever you want until its time, but make sure to-” “Yeah, yeah, lay low. Relax big guy, I’ve got this,” she cut him off, reassuringly. He exited the room quickly, like he was in a rush to get away from her. He was gone for almost the rest of the day.

-----------------

About 8pm that night.

Miguel was outside in the main room of the motel while Lorena was getting herself ready in the bathroom. Miguel had gone out earlier and bought her some cheap makeup and perfume from a local drugstore, a sweet gesture.

Once she finished with her makeup and straightening up her hair, she tapped on the middle part of her gold chain, causing a menu to pop up. She scrolled through the options until she came across the last one, labeled by Lyla as “night time😉”. She clicked on the option, as she watched in awe as her casual t-shirt and sweatpants shifted into her outfit for the night. A tight black dress, cut asymmetrically to show one of her thighs, and a turtle neck part detached from the rest of the dress, with glove-like sleeves. This feature allowed for the perfect peephole towards her chest. Lorena had a feeling Lyla would try to do some matchmaking with her outfit.

With a quick spritz of perfume, a double check of her face in the mirror, and quickly putting on a black headband for her hair, Lorena quickly exited the bathroom. Miguel was standing there, waiting by the door and checking his portal watch. He was sporting a black, silk, button up shirt, tucked into black dress pants. The fact that the shirt was way too tight for him was accentuated by his muscles sculpted by the fabric and the fact that the first two buttons were open. His eye was caught by Lorena when she stepped out of the bathroom, his mouth slightly agape in awe and his eyes almost stuck to her.

“It’s flashy, I know. But it’s better that I fit in,” she said, trying to divide the tension in the room as she walked closer to him. “I-...um,” he stammered. “At a loss for words for once O’Hara?” she teased. Noticing a stray hair on the top of his head, she reached up to him to push it back. “Quédate quieto,” she commanded softly, while she stuck the piece back into the gel, trying to ignore how he was admiring her.

“There you go. Ahora te ves guapo,” she teased, patting his chest with her hand. Miguel still had that stupid smile on his face. “Y te ves hermosa,” he said softly, and with utter sincerity.

She couldn’t tell if she was caught more off guard with his words of affirmation, or the fact that the blush quickly forming on her cheeks was confirming her secret love of it.

Clearing her throat, she unlocked the door, opened it, and gestured her hand to outside. “Lead the way big guy.” He smirked at her as he walked outside. He even got the courage to offer her his hand. This confidence was quickly deflated when she smacked away his hand, giggling to herself as she took the lead down the stairs.

The night life of the city was bustling on the streets. Couples together, arm in arm, surely walking to a fancy restaurant for a night out. Lines forming outside of nightclubs, patrons with an urgency to get in. Everyone walking down the street with their own story to tell, just like Lorena.

After walking for a couple of miles, the bright, neon blue sign shone in front of the entrance. The door was a mahogany red, with three stairs leading down to the entrance. But opposite to Miguel’s eagerness to get inside by opening the door, Lorena slightly froze, eyes blank.

This was it. It was going to happen. Whether she was ready or not.

“Hey.” Miguel’s calm voice pulled her back to reality. “Stay with me. Okay?” He held out his large hand for her. This time, she decided to take it. “And remember to try and fit in,” he added. Her smile quickly turned sour and annoyed.

The atmosphere was loud, a mixture of people talking and the bass of the music filling the room. The fact that the lights were out didn’t seem to matter much with the amount of strobe and neon lights flashing within the bar. Lorena noticed Miguel quickly putting on a pair of sunglasses hidden in his jacket pocket. “I thought you said we needed to fit in,” Lorena stated as the two walked towards a high top near the bar. “I did. And?” “You really think you’re blending in with a pair of sunglasses on indoors? At night? In a club?” Lorena joked. “The lights hurt my eyes,” Miguel said, puppy dog hurt. Lorena had to fight to contain the laughter rising in her chest.

Once they sat down, and the reality of events settled down on Lorena, she began to look around the club. People sprayed out on couches, drunkenly conversing or making out. People out on the dance floor. Men walking into booths in the back, shielded by curtains. Eddie was probably in one of those. “I’m heading to the bar. You want anything?” Miguel asked, snapping her out of her daze. “Uhhhh, just get me something strong,” she brushed off, still not entirely paying attention. He shrugged and walked off to the bar.

Lorena continued to inspect the area, her thoughts bouncing all over the place. What did this Eddie look like? Did he have black hair instead? Was his voice higher? Her Eddie always had a particularly deep tone. Smooth like silk as well. She would spend days on end focusing on the way he would say a single sentence back when she was first crushing on him. Would he act like her Eddie? She realized quickly she probably wouldn’t get the opportunity to find out. She didn’t necessarily want to find out anyways.

…

Would she have to kill him again? Would Miguel make her?

The smack of the glass on the table brought her back to reality. “You weren’t really specific, so I just got you a negroni,” Miguel said, open bottle of beer in his hand. Without a second thought, Lorena downed half the glass just then, proven to be a mistake with how strong the drink actually was. Her mouth curled inwards as her eyes shut closed, letting out a few coughs quickly after.

Miguel laughed slightly, and slammed his hand against her back to help her cough. “What the fuck was that?” “Hey, you told me to get you something strong!” Miguel defended. “I thought you were gonna get me a margarita or something,” Lorena said, rubbing her chest with her hand. “Haven’t had alcohol in more than a year and you hit me with that straight away,” she said to herself. Subconsciously, he handed her his bottle. “Take a sip of that then.” She smiled to herself as she put her lips to the bottle and took a good sip of the beer. “Better?” he asked, like she was a child. “Yes, thank you for your charity sir, you’re so kind,” she responded sarcastically.

“Find anything interesting yet?” Miguel asked, taking back the bottle. Lorena’s eyes went back to the curtains. “Those booths back there look promising. Are we sure he’s here yet though?” Lorena asked. “I have a hunch.” Lorena looked up at Miguel, annoyance on her face. “We’re going…off of a hunch?” “Just trust me on this okay.” Lorena sighed and took another sip of her own drink, wincing again when she put it back down.

Her eyes were drawn away from the drapes and over to the lit up dance floor. She had always been the first one to bring her friends to dance with her when she was younger. Seeing it again brought feelings flooding back to her heart. Spontaneously, she jumped up from her chair and held out her hand to Miguel. “...What are you doing?” he asked, incredibly confused.

“You said we had to blend in, right? We’ll do that better if we’re out there dancing,” she said. “Oh, no way. I don’t dance, chiquita,” he said, almost embarrassed. “Oh come on, for someone with your build? You’ve definitely danced before. Don’t be a debby downer Miggy,” she encouraged, both of them caught slightly off guard by the nickname slip. He rolled his head back, wiped his hands over his face, and let out a deep, annoyed groan. Once he stood up though and took her hand, it was impossible for Lorena to lose the smile growing on her face. “You’re taking the lead though, Loré,” he said, having come up with a nickname for her as well. She hoped the sunglasses he had on would keep him from seeing the blush on her face.

…

They didn’t.

Hand in hand, Lorena led Miguel over to the brightly lit floor, music blasting in the speakers next to them. Miguel stook out like a sore thumb, his huge build making him extremely identifiable among the other strangers on the floor. Lorena fit right in though, immediately beginning to dance to the blasting music. Miguel tried his best to copy her moves, but ended up looking like a fool. “You were right, you really aren’t that good at this,” Lorena teased. “Ha ha, very funny,” Miguel said monotonically. As the music changed slowly to a slower pace, they noticed the people around them grouping to dance into a pairs. She looked up to Miguel. He raised his eyebrow at her, asking her without words. Her smile was confirmation, as they inched towards each other.

Almost as if they were pre-programmed to do so, Lorena wrapped her arms around Miguel’s neck, and his wrapped around her hips. They swayed together slowly to the music, melting into each others touch. He rested his head on her shoulder, his hot breath leaving goosebumps on her skin.

“This isn’t my wheelhouse,” he quietly whispered into her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “Why, better when other music is playing?” she whispered back sarcastically. “Everyone here’s lucky they aren’t playing salsa right now, or I’d be stealing the show.” Lorena let out a laugh. “Is that so?” He nodded, a huge smirk on his face. “I’m more of mambo person myself,” she responded. He smiled at her remark. “You’ll have to teach me some day.”

She struggled to keep the smile on her face as those words entered her head. You’ll have to teach me some day. She hadn’t even begun to think about it. What she would do after this mission was over. The whole point of doing this was so she could be granted her freedom. She wanted it so badly a couple of days ago. But now. She hadn’t even thought of staying as a possibility. Because to her, it wasn’t. She couldn’t invade Miguel’s life like that. She wasn’t even 100% sure how she felt about him, much less on how he felt about her. Besides, no matter how much she just wanted to settle down with someone. To live an actual life. She didn’t deserve it.

Pulling away from him was like separating herself from her source of life, but she did it anyways. “You okay?” Miguel asked concerned. “Yeah, I just gotta freshen up for a second,” she said, wiping her nose. She turned around quickly to get away. Too quickly though, bumping into someone’s back on her way to the bathroom.

Knocked off her balance, and her headband knocked out of her hair, she fell to the floor on her ass. “Sorry about that,” she said, slightly dissociated, reaching out for her headband. The stranger also reached down to help with her headband. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it gorgeous.”

Her heart dropped to her stomach.

That voice.

“Don’t lose your heart.”

She desperately wanted to keep her eyes glued to the floor. She didn’t want to look at him. But she had to keep her cover up. So she did, as slowly as she could though. And it was the worst possibly outcome.

He looked just like him. Strawberry blonde hair. Deep blue eyes. Small scar just above right eyebrow. His bottom two teeth fighting for room on the bottom row of his mouth. There was only one difference though. One of her favorite parts about him. This Eddie was missing his freckles. His beautiful light brown freckles.

She gave the stranger with her dead boyfriend’s face a strained smile while she grabbed her headband and rushed behind to the door. Her own brain pounding in her head was too loud for her to hear Miguel as she nearly ran passed him. She slammed the door to the outside open as she took in the air like it was her first breath ever. Even if she was outside now, she kept running. She sprinted down the streets, not taking any of her surroundings into account. She saw him in everyone’s face. His ghost had always been haunting her, but she wasn’t ready for him to move from behind her back to in front of her face. She ran so far and so fast until her legs ached, and even after that. She didn’t even know where she was going. She didn’t care. She just needed to get away from him as quickly as possible. Even if that meant leaving Miguel behind too.

Her sprint was interrupted when her foot was caught in a change in the elevation on the sidewalk. Her face slammed into the concrete sidewalk, scraping her cheek and her knees. She used the rest of her strength, all drained out from her bolting, to crawl into a nearby alley. She made her way to the back and slunk down into the corner, hoping to meld into the brick behind her. Especially if it meant she never had to see him again.

-----------------

a/n: THIS TOOK ME SO LONG OH MY GOD. sorry if i messed some stuff up with the drinks, i dont drink so i really have no idea (im just a stoner instead lmao). UGH BUT I THINK THIS WAS MY FAVORITE CHAPTER TO WRITE I LOVED IT AND I HOPE YOU GUYS DID TOO

taglist: @the-ikran-man @jenniferdixon05207 @yuuuumii @elwyn7 @waniesss @lust-for-pan @natthernandez @pix-stuff @ang3lf4c3 @artfulthoughtswp @notwildlyfamous

#miguel o'hara x oc #bite the hand #spidersona #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara #into the spider verse #fanfic #spiderman across the spiderverse #fanfiction #spiderverse #oc x miguel o'hara #spiderman oc #spiderverse oc #spiderman

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