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#i made up for it by making this painting all about Shapes because I love faces but I also like Shapes
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By: Aaron Benner
Published: Oct 2, 2015
I have been an elementary teacher almost all of my adult life, mostly in St. Paul Public Schools. First and foremost, I teach because I love kids, I love schools, I love our city, and I really love what happens when a group of kids becomes a community in a classroom and a school. For this to occur, everybody has to play a part — parents, students, teachers, building and district administration, and the broader community. As a black man, it breaks my heart to watch these communities fall apart and to see some children who look like me behave so poorly in our schools.
In 2011, I addressed the St. Paul School Board. At the time, I told them about my concerns with student behavior at Benjamin E. Mays Elementary School, where I taught sixth grade. I hoped to start a discussion about what I was witnessing. Although the media paid some attention (likely because my race made for an interesting story), the school board ignored me. I addressed the board again on May 20, 2014, regarding the same issues, but this time I was aware they were happening districtwide. Four other brave teachers accompanied me. The school board ignored us again and tried to paint us as anti-racial equity.
From 2013-15, I taught fourth grade at John A. Johnson Elementary (JAJ). The behaviors that I witnessed last year at JAJ were far worse than what I complained to the school board about in 2011 and in 2014. On a daily basis, I saw students cussing at their teachers, running out of class, yelling and screaming in the halls, and fighting. If I had a dollar for every time my class was interrupted by a student running into my room and yelling, I’d be a rich man. It was obvious to me that these behaviors were affecting learning, so when I saw the abysmal test scores this summer, I was not surprised. Out of 375 students, only 14.3 percent were proficient in Reading, 9.6 percent in Math and 9.3 percent in Science. These test scores are not acceptable in any way, shape or form.
I diligently collected data on the behaviors that I saw in our school and completed behavior referrals for the assaults. These referrals were not accurately collected. The school suspended some students, but many more assaults were ignored or questioned by administrators to the point where the assaults were not even documented. I have since learned that this tactic is widely used throughout the district to keep the numbers of referrals and suspensions low.
The parents who complained to the school board last year about behavior at Ramsey Jr. High know all too well about behaviors being ignored. The students of SPPS are being used in some sort of social experiment where they are not being held accountable for their behavior. This is only setting our children up to fail in the future, especially our black students. All of my students at JAJ were traumatized by what they experienced last year — even my black students. Safety was my number one concern, not teaching.
Who would conduct such an experiment on our kids? I blame the San Francisco-based consulting firm, Pacific Education Group (PEG). PEG was hired by SPPS in 2010 to help close the achievement gap. PEG makes no secret of the fact that its prescription for closing the gap is based on the Critical Race Theory. This theory argues that racism is so ingrained in the American way of life — its economy, schools, and government — that things must be made unequal in order to compensate for that racism. PEG pushes the idea that black students are victims of white school policies that make it difficult or impossible for them to learn. So, when a black student is disruptive, PEG, as I see it, stresses that it’s not their fault, and the student should just take a break, and then return to class shortly thereafter.
Racism and white privilege definitely exist, and there is not enough space in this paper for me to share all of the humiliating encounters I’ve experienced that are a product of racism. But to blame poor behavior and low test scores solely on white teachers is simply wrong. However, it’s the new narrative in our district, pushed by PEG.
I recently dropped out of the St. Paul School Board race to focus on my new job at a charter school, but I’m still concerned with the current state of SPPS and the direction of the school board. Here’s what I think should happen: First and foremost, the newly elected board must sever ties with Pacific Education Group. PEG has charged the taxpayers of St. Paul $3 million over the last five years. According to some reports, SPPS has matched PEG with $1.2 million. What are these matching dollars used for? It is crucial to understand that behaviors throughout the district have escalated to the point where we are at a crisis in St. Paul. PEG is not working. To add insult to injury, two weeks ago, the St. Paul School Board had the audacity to set the ceiling of next year’s tax levy 3.85 percent higher than the current year. Tax increase? This must be a joke.
Racial equity and closing the achievement gap, the correct way, are commendable goals. However, PEG’s idea of racial equity is NOT the answer. PEG stresses black culture and nothing else. What is black culture? Did PEG survey the black community of St. Paul and ask what behaviors should be acceptable in our schools? I don’t recall filling out any surveys or receiving any phone calls regarding this topic.
Because of PEG, we have forgotten about our Asian, Latino and Native communities. The St. Paul Public School district has the second most diverse school population in the country (New York City is ranked No. 1). For the record, Asians make up the largest minority group in our schools. PEG has influenced this district on major policy changes, from questionable behavioral guidelines and hiring practices to the creation of new positions with jargonistic titles.
We now have “Cultural Specialists” and “Behavior Specialists” throughout our schools. An overwhelming number of these specialists are black, and it’s not clear to me what their qualifications are. Their job seems to be to talk to students who have been involved in disruptions or altercations and return them to class as quickly as possible. Some of these “specialists” even reward disruptive students by taking them to the gym to play basketball (yes, you read that correctly). This scene plays out over and over for teachers throughout the school day. There is no limit to the number of times a disruptive student will be returned to your class. The behavior obviously has not changed, and some students have realized that their poor behavior has its benefits.
St. Paul Public Schools is in desperate need of true behaviorists to replace these “specialists.” Licensed therapists who are trained to help change and replace inappropriate behaviors. I expect that PEG would never go for this because it would contradict their excuse that “black culture” accounts for such behaviors. The newly elected school board can change that.
Another action the newly elected school board must take is to visit schools, listen to teachers, and offer them much-needed support. Teachers are currently fending for themselves when it comes to behavior concerns. Part of my frustration is with the leadership of the St. Paul Federation of Teachers. The union is so concerned with getting along with the district that they are paralyzed when the hundreds of teachers they represent bring up the issue of behavior. This needs to change.
PEG and SPPS are harming the very people whose interests they claim to represent. Follow the money. The taxpayers of St. Paul should demand to know who exactly is benefitting from PEG. Students definitely aren’t.
Aaron Anthony Benner works as the African- American Liaison/Behavior Coach and Community of Peace Academy, a public charter school in St. Paul.
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By: Victor Skinner
Published: Sep 24, 2019
Aaron Benner, a black teacher from St. Paul, Minnesota, won a large settlement with the St. Paul School District last week over retaliation he faced for speaking out against the district’s race-based student discipline policies.
Benner argued the investigations came in retaliation for complaints to the school board about race-based student discipline policies implemented by then Superintendent Valeria Silva and promoted by President Obama. The discipline policies aimed to reduce suspensions of black students by lowering the expectations for behavior and increasing the threshold for suspensions, something Benner repeatedly, publicly argued was against the best interests of black students.
The “restorative justice” approach to student discipline was accompanied by “white privilege” teacher training sessions that cost the district taxpayers more than $3 million. Those sessions focused on the “white privilege” theory that the public education system is hopelessly stacked against black students, who shouldn’t be held accountable for poor academics or bad behavior.
In St. Paul and hundreds of schools across the country, the “white privilege” training sessions were conducted by Pacific Educational Group, also known as PEG.
“PEG was hired by SPPS in 2010 to help close the achievement gap. PEG makes no secret that its prescription for closing the gap is based on the Critical Race Theory. This theory argues that racism is so ingrained in the American way of life – its economy, schools, and government – that things must be made unequal in order to compensate for that racism,” Benner wrote in a 2015 editorial for the Press.
“Peg pushes the idea that black students are victims of white school policies that make it difficult or impossible for them to learn,” Benner wrote. “So, when a black student is disruptive, PEG, as I see it, stresses that it’s not their fault.”
Benner refused to accept that black students are less capable than their white classmates and left the school district in 2015. Benner taught at a local charter school and was later hired for a administration position at the St. Paul private school Cretin-Derham Hall, according to the Star Tribune.
After years of complaints from parents, teachers, administrators and others about violent and disruptive students running rampant with impunity, St. Paul school leaders eventually got rid of Silva and scrapped the failed student discipline policies.
Last week, the school board settled up with Benner, though the district denied any wrongdoing.
“This agreement enables the district to avoid the time, expense and uncertainty of protracted legal proceedings regarding its previous policies, practices and expectations,” board members wrote in a prepared statement.
The district contends taxpayers are responsible for $50,000 of the settlement, while its insurer will cover $475,000.
Benner told the Star Tribune he credits God for the favorable outcome.
“I thank God for all the blessings in my life,” he wrote in an email to the news site. “I turned 50 this year, got married in July and now (there is) this settlement.”
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crowsmischief · 22 hours
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happy birthday James Potter, you will always be my favorite and most beloved sunshine boy ☀️🫶🏼
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one of the things i love most in the marauders fandom is that all of us perceive them in a unique way so, in honor of his birthday, here's a couple details about how i perceive James with a little context of my own in no specific order:
sunsets and the beach. since he was little his parents would take him every summer to the beach and monty would enroll him for surf lessons. he remembers the sea breeze and his parents slow dancing with the most beautiful orange sky behind them.
tattoos. got his first one matching with sirius, remus and peter when he turned 17. a year later sirius learned to tattoo and ever since, he would get little significant ones all over his arms. he has the words "mamá/papá" (mom/dad) one in each arm inside little hearts.
legos. he specifically likes the star wars sets, one of his favorite hobbies that helps him clear his overthinking mind and calm his anxiety. this is one of the rare activities he actually prefers to do by himself.
mexican culture. he's half mexican, so of course he loves to talk about the culture and traditions he grew up with, one of his favorites is "día de muertos", so every year he makes an "ofrenda" and never waste an opportunity to educate his friends about the history of the ritual. he introduced traditional food, games and music in spanish to his friends and he loves to speak spanglish.
formula 1. never misses a race, no matter what he needs to do to make it happen. he's a ferrari victim. his favorite drivers are sebastian vettel, michael schumacher and lewis hamilton. his favorite circuits are silverstone and monaco.
books. big fan of a good mystery novel, he really enjoys agatha christie. ever since he saw remus' annotations on one of his oscar wilde novels, he wanted to do it too. while remus' were more critical and analytical, james' most of the time looked like a wattpad comment section. he loves it.
baking. he'd do it with effie all the time when he was little and it's one of his most precious memories. she used to say you do it for the people you love the most in this world. so he does. he often shows up with dinosaur shaped cookies, cars movie themed cupcakes or spiderman decorated brownies for his friends and family on random days, because he loves them always.
memory box. he has this box full of little things like souvenirs, gifts and letters from people that have been part of his life. he has the wrapper of the first chocolate frog sirius gifted him, a postcard remus sent from his trip to argentina, a rock peter painted for him and so much more. he is made of memories.
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oatbugs · 1 year
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lightning fried our satellite dish and now we are alone
#old geometry on old walls + her hand flowing along the river delta. sudden stop pulls on stitches#you are not allowed to laugh unrestrained for the next two months. in the next world#i look at the shape of the sun and i the tangerine you offered to your brother. do you feel#artificial ? do you feel man-made? what is more natural than man ? what is more natural than the creation of a natural thing?#do you feel like an organic automaton? will you love me if i change? will i love you if you change? if i prophesise about#not loving you it wont change the fact that i wont stop loving you. you are going to draw again because in a few weeks#you have to paint something sacred along the length of my spine. my friend asks me if im okay#and in my head i want to scream at her IM JUST HAPPY YOU'RE ALIVE. im sorry we were both in pain. im sorry you have to think about#endings. i will think about your beginnings. the air here feels like spring and i think of you every day.#my boy texts me on the train station about the snow and how he waited 4 hours in the underground. he said his hands were shaking#and i thought of how much i missed holding his hands. you were freezing on the train i was burning in the sky.#of course your password is phi. just like her. i miss you all. 10 friends teaching each other how to slow dance#in the kitchen. 10 friends cook a feast together and say goodbye. the last thing i told the boy who was once#in love with me was that i wont say goodbye because no one would care to hear it. the last thing he said was fair enough.#im glad you kissed me when i was drunk. i am visiting my town by the sea for the first time in a decade and i hope to#peel it open and bite again. my love، how do i make you feel? pomegranate cracked open. you saw the blood inside#and you dug your hands inwards. messed up through all the red، you still bit in.#i will make you feel safe enough so you can lose your mind again. you can create again#im sorry i didnt realise how much you had missed me. im sorry i didnt realise thats a part of why you stopped creating#i am not sorry that it matters so much. it matters because i love you. ill be back soon. keep cracking me open. ill keep cracking you open.#world of chroma blue and crimson. a girl asks a policeman for direction without a headscarf on. this was an act of war. i reveal my own#hair in the wind and think of how much i love you. i stare at the policeman through the eyes of the slaughtered.#my lovely economist drinks up the ocean and i think of her beautiful hair with its bloody ends in the wind#chase your dreams. dont say goodbye. politics is an act of love. i look at the killer with the eyes of those he killed and i think of#kissing you over the river kissing you in your bed kissing you before you left kissing you until we were late kissing you goodbye#for five consecutive days kissing you in the train station kissing you in the rolling fields kissing you by the cityscape kissing your neck#until it bled. i love you. i will kiss you until you can create again.#i miss my love i miss my starlights and i miss the sky. one day ill make you tomato soup again.#and now it is time to replace a very old very young self.
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lovebugism · 1 year
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Imagine rough sex with eds and you guys just break the bed and you have to tell wayne
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✶ ┄ BROKEN BEDS !
summary: you and eddie break his bed. the worst part is having to tell wayne. pairing: eddie munson / f!reader warning: smut! eddie being the cutest human alive! a wild appearance from uncle wayne! 18+ mdni! a/n: i need everyone to know that when i wrote this draft, i titled it "breaking bed" and it made me chuckle a lil. anyway, thanks for your request anon! enjoy xoxo
( MASTERLIST )
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when eddie muson fucks, he fucks like a wild animal
he grunts with each of his rough thrusts, brown eyes somehow darker with lust while his untamed curls cling to his sweaty forehead
and you just let him drill into you because, truth be told, you love him this way
you hold the backs of your thighs and keep yourself wide open for him while he fucks so deeply into you
he leans over you, one hand white-knuckled where it grips his headboard, and the other wrapped around your throat
not tight enough to choke you exactly, but to make sure your eyes stay locked on his as he fucks you for all your worth
the headboard slams into the wall in time with each of his thrusts, rhythmic bang bang bangs that you’d be scared are leaving a dent in the wall if eddie wasn’t making you feel so good
he tilts your jaw to the side to expose your neck to him
and he hides his face in the sweaty crook of it, seeking refuge there while he nips and suckles at the warmed skin
you just keep begging for him to go harder and deeper and faster as he fucks you more and more stupid
and eddie complies without question
he revels in the way you keen each time he pounds into you and how your face scrunches up and your back arches for him
your toes curl and your legs tense up so hard they start to quiver
and right when you’re about to come, the bed suddenly jolts and dips beneath you, accompanied by loud crashing sound
it scares the shit out of you and you squeal while eddie lets out a grunt of surprise
because his bed just fucking broke
and it isn’t the most surprising thing in the world, the thing is about as old as he is
but it does take the two of you off guard 
all you can do in the moment is laugh about it
and eddie barely wastes another second before he starts fucking you again
because his bed is already broken, who cares if it gets more fucked up?
plus he knew how close you were to your orgasm and you just look so pretty when you come <3
the worst part about it though is telling wayne
because there’s no way he’s not going to notice
and eddie can’t exactly sleep on a crooked bed
so he just comes up with the shittiest excuse known to man “so the thing is... i was… jumping on the bed…”
wayne furrows his brows “the hell were you doing jumping on your bed?”
“well, you see, i was just, you know… trying to… heal my inner child…”
“…what the fuck does that mean?”
but, like, obviously wayne knows
typically you’re good at keeping eddie in check and sometimes he can hear you saying you don’t want to fuck while wayne’s in the house
and that’s a part of the reason he likes you so much bc you don’t want to put him through that trauma
but you guys are young and in love and sometimes keeping your hands off of each other feels like the hardest thing in the world
so he knows exactly how the bed broke
but hearing eddie trying to lie about it is the funniest thing on the planet
shopping for a new bed frame is easily the most adult thing you and eddie have ever done
and the only one he can afford is a star wars themed one in the children’s section
eddie groans and acts annoyed about having to get one that’s so childish but you know he secretly loves it
because the headboard is shaped like the cock pit of the millennium falcon with lightsabers painted on the foot of the bed
you try to put it together without wayne’s help while he’s at work
and you’re like “how long do you give it before we break this one?”
“an hour if you wine and dine me first <3”
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have any blurb requests? send em here if you want!
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kasagia · 26 days
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Game of survival
Pairing: young president! Coriolanus Snow x fem!rebel! reader Summary: The worst enemy is the person who betrayed you when you trusted them with all your heart. The person you told all your secrets to, the person you loved more than your life—the best friend who suddenly turned on you and stabbed you in the back and right through your heart, using your weaknesses they learned with the time they spent with you. You and Coriolanus have been each other's worst enemies since that fateful day at the lake in District 12... Inspired by: Game of survival - Ruelle Warning: 18+; a little smut; Coriolanus chases you around his presidential palace; I had a completely different idea for it, but it turned out that way...; Enjoy!; Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist
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You hold your breath as you sit on the roof of a building.
Through Sniper Rifle, you watch carefully as the president of Panem gets out of his car. You only see the outline of his bleached blonde hair before he disappears into his presidential palace. The car drives away, and peacekeepers start circulating around the building again. An impregnable fortress. Seemingly.
"I hope you have a plan." Joseph mumbles next to you, moving into position next to you. "We must act quickly tonight. Get in and out before the peacekeepers find out what are we going to do."
"First, you have to shoot him. I won't leave there without seeing the life drain from his eyes." You reply, preparing to leave the roof.
"Do not worry about it. Everyone would like to be in my place. I don't miss the target." He replies confidently, with an arrogance in his voice that you don't like. But you won't lecture him. The other hunter never liked being told how to do his job. You caught animals; he caught real people. He had more experience in this area than you. But could Coriolanus still be considered human?
"That's not what I'm thinking about. It's a game of survival. Him or us. You have to play it smart. Don't underestimate him just because he's from the Capitol, Jospeh."
"I bet he didn't even hold a gun in those well-groomed hands of his." You shudder. The screams of Sejanus and Lucy Gray echo in your head. Coriolanus' screams. The sounds made by mockingjays...
"I doubt it." You answer briefly and go out to the staircase.
You pass through several of its inhabitants before reaching the basement. Before you open one of the rooms, you look around to make sure you are alone in the residential basements. You quickly open and close the door behind you. You move the painting, some kind of marriage portrait of a general and his wife, and go through a hidden passage. It was a tunnel dug under the building, which led to a small room where the most important members of the rebellion slept. The rest were to arrive during the day. For a special evening event.
"You need to be more careful." Meg tells you as you return to base. "The peacekeepers seem to be breeding in their barracks. I saw twice as many of them on the streets as yesterday. And guess what?"
She slaps her hand flat on the table. You walk up and lean down, seeing the wanted poster for you. Alive, not dead. Whoever turned you in would get a ridiculous amount of money.
"I have a nicer jaw shape." You comment and pick up the wanted poster. You throw it in the air and aim the dagger at it, nailing it to the earthy wall of your shelter.
"I don't know what you did to Snow, but even his advisor, who ran his presidential campaign and defected to join us, isn't so... passionately wanted by him and his men as you are." She says, wincing when she can't get the dagger out of the wall. You roll your eyes and walk over to her, pulling out the dagger easily and handing it to her with a mocking smile.
"Old disagreements and a minor difference of opinion." You tell her, walking over to the map of the Capitol and the plan of the presidential palace. "I doubt he even remembers why he's so pissed at me. That was ages ago. 10 years. Maybe more. But as you can see, bastards like him hold grudges for a long time."
"People gossip, you know. That you are not suitable for this job. That you had some feelings for him that would make you hesitate to pull the trigger when necessary." She says, walking towards you. She places her hand on your back, making you look at her. "If you don't want to, don't say it. But I need to be completely sure that you won't betray us."
"I'm not the one who is supposed to kill him. We have Jospeh to do that. But believe me, if necessary, my hand won't shake. I am a hunter. My job is to kill. And an animal like him is well within my hunting range. He... he has done too much for me to feel sorry for him. And believe me, if anyone has a reason to kill him, it's me. I have something to take revenge for. So if you don't trust me, then trust my rage. After all, there is nothing like a mad woman, is there?" You ask, sending her a meaningful smirk.
And even though you pretend to be so confident in front of her and any other rebels, deep down, you know that it's not all that simple. Things between you and Coriolanus... were complicated. And anyone else in your situation would hate him with all their hearts, but you couldn't just stop loving him. Maybe you were actually weak, but if you learned anything from Coroilanus Snow, it was how to pretend to be stronger than others. Even when you were in a shitty situation.
"Good. Prepare yourself. We start at dusk. For the Districts."
"And for all the fallen. Let the odds be forever dead." You finish.
Meg nods and leaves you alone with the maps and plans. Your task was simple. Sneak through the guests at a masquerade party, get into his office, and plant a bomb. Just in case. Only if Joseph hadn't managed to kill him. You were also supposed to set a few other traps for President Snow. And since you were the best hunter in Panem, there was no one better for that job.
You've been preparing for this for months. You have figured out all the escape routes, emergency exits, peackeeper patrols, and their plans to secure the reception at the presidential palace.
Tonight, everything will be resolved, your past will be finally a closed past, whether you want it or not.
Either he or you will die tonight. And if you were sure about something, you were sure that you wouldn't pass away so easily.
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You never expected that Coriolanus Snow would become your worst enemy.
Or at least that's what you think as you drive through the Capitol. You sit in the backseat, staring at the streets and people passing by, as your chauffeur and fellow rebel take you to your destination.
Ever since Lucy Gray returned from the Hunger Games, she has been praising her mentor. She said that the boy she met gave her invaluable support and help, and that if it weren't for him, she wouldn't have survived on her own in the arena.
Her stories make you imagine him as an angel. Blond curls, sky blue eyes, helping a poor girl from the district, a man with a good heart—everything fit. And you were confirmed in that belief when you saw him for the first time and realised how handsome he really was.
How were you supposed to know then that Coriolanus Snow was really an angel, but a fallen one? How could you recognise the devil through the disguise he had created for himself?
You were certainly not the first or the last to fall under his spell, to believe in the façade of a good man, to see him as a hurt boy who needed love and tenderness. At least you wanted to believe you weren't the only one naive enough to ignore all the clues and signs that he wasn't such a saint after all.
It started inconspicuously. Like all disasters. And you, having lived in District 12 for so long, knew very well what bad fate, misfortune, and catastrophe were.
But nothing could have prepared you for the coming of Coriolanus Snow.
He was charming. Oh God, and how much he was. Sejanus didn't pay much attention to his surroundings, but Snow picked up on every little detail, no matter how insignificant it may have been at first sight. Lucy Gray fell into Plinth's arms. And you became infatuated with a devil who seemed to be as observant as you.
"Lucy Gray's friends are my friends." The brunette guy says that and takes a step forward. You shift your cautious gaze to him, but he doesn't seem to notice that you're wary and reaches for your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "Sejanus. Nice to meet you."
"Y/N." You say, removing your hand from his grip. "I used to say that too. And then she took me to feed her snakes. The poisonous ones. The worst 3 minutes of my life."
"3 minutes?" He asks curiously. You notice someone moving behind him—another man—who is whispering something to Lucy.
"She ran away screaming." Your friend giggles and throws her arm on Sejanus' shoulder. You roll your eyes at her as she laughs at you, not hiding the smile that begins to form on your lips.
"That's not true. I didn't scream. I saw a rabbit and went hunting." You mutter, feigning offence, which only intensifies her laughter.
"A hunter who is afraid of snakes?"
Someone's question distracts you from Lucy Gray. Behind her, you notice the man who was whispering something to her earlier. He steps out of her shadow and stands a few steps away from you. You look him up and down, and by the way Lucy is comfortable with the other peacekeeper and his appearance, you assume he must be her mentor. Coriolanus Snow. And damn her, he was really hot.
"I am afraid of what I have to be afraid of, private Snow. Just like a hunter should. You never know when the danger will come that you will turn from a predator to a prey." He watches you carefully, listening to your every word. And by the small smile he can't contain, you know that you've managed to make him curious and defend yourself enough for him not to discredit you.
"It's Coryo when we are among friends." He says this, nodding at you. He does not extend his hand to you like Sejanus did, nor does he attempt any other greeting that requires physical contact. Weird. You wonder if he would be attentive enough to sense your discomfort.
"We should get going. The Covey is probably waiting for us. Will you come tomorrow? I think we have a lot to talk about." The brunette asks them with a smile and stands on your other side, taking your arm.
"Su..."
"We will escort you." Coriolanus interrupts his friend, still looking at you. "We wouldn't want anything to happen to you. There are... quite a lot of people hanging around here tonight." His gaze shifts to Lucy Gray for a moment, and he nods for her to lead.
"He may be a rebel, but he is also chivalrous. Come then, gentlemen." She laughs and places her other hand on the crook of Sejanus' elbow. Coriolanus adjusts and walks on your other side, maintaining an appropriate distance, so he is close but not touching you or brushing his arm against yours.
At one point, the crowd of people won't let you walk four in a row, so Lucy and Sejanus take the lead. You and Coryo follow behind them, a little apart. There's a strange silence between you. You shift your gaze to his, and you see that he is already watching you.
"I think I should thank you for saving her. It's not that easy to keep that tramp out of danger. And believe me, I know what I'm saying; I've known her since we were children."
"Yes, she is very… alive. But that was just my job as her mentor." He says this as you both walk down the dark streets. The moonlight and a few lanterns illuminate it so much that you can walk freely in the dark without tripping over any protruding stones.
"Was it also your duty to become a peacekeeper and come to 12?" Your question clearly surprises him. He didn't expect anyone to connect... the events or have the courage to ask him about it. Lucy Gray didn't do it. But you weren't Lucy Gray. You were better. And he was starting to see it.
"It wasn't... planned." He says this and clears his throat, looking at Lucy Gray and Sejanus laughing together about something. "But I'm not going to stay here long."
"Did you come here for her or for him?" You ask, seeing his jaw clench as he watches them both.
"None. I just had to do it." He responds dryly, clearly not wanting to talk about it further. You didn't know who he was jealous of, but you could recognise that feeling in others' eyes perfectly. And he was definitely jealous. You only wondered about what. About Lucy Gray, Sejanus, or just about what was between them?
"A lonely wolf. I see." You comment and turn your head towards the Hanging Tree.
Coriolanus takes the opportunity to get a better look at you. You don't have an outfit as bold and colourful as Lucy Gray. You were rather quiet and thoughtful. He couldn't' say that he wasn't captivated by the aura that his former tribute had around her, but he somehow found himself feeling better in the silence between the two of you than he ever felt around Lucy Gray and her wild personality.
You had also really beautiful eyes.
"And what about you?" He asks, wanting to get your attention again.
At first, he stayed close to you just to spite Lucy Gray, but after she obviously ignored him, he had no intention of talking to you anymore. But something about you drew him to you. And maybe it was your caution; maybe he wanted to break it and set it as a challenge, a distraction while he was in District 12, or maybe he just wanted attention? He did not know. It irritated him how much he wanted to see your eyes sparkling teasingly in the lamplight again. 
"Me?" You looked up at him, giving him your full attention. He almost smiled. Almost.
"Are you remaining here for her or for someone else? I know there is a need for good hunters in many other and better districts. Why are you stuck here when you could be hunting somewhere else? Have a better place to live?" He asks, unable to understand you.
You obviously didn't feel comfortable in District 12. No one could. And he knew from Lucy Gray's histories and his brief observation of your actions that someone like you, with your skills, could easily get a transfer to a wealthier district. But you didn't. He wanted to know why.
"What if I like it here?" You ask with a shrug. He frowns, looking around. You are passing by mouldy buildings, some houses are made of ood—you say it while they walk down the poorest alley in 12. Coriolanus believes he saw a rat running in front of you, but he doesn't want to think about it.
"Here?" He asks with disbelief and a hint of disgust in his voice, to which you giggle, almost laughing.
And instead of Coriolanus being offended and threatening you (he's a peacekeeper after all; he could make you spend a day in detention, and if you were anyone else, he definitely would do that), but somehow Snow can't do anything but smile, while admiring you.
However, he takes his eyes off you, even though he's tempted to look at you longer. He can't afford to have another weakness. To have another Lucy Gray. Although he doesn't think you'd push him away that easily for Sejanus or anyone else, like she did.
You and he were similar. Both of you were withdrawn, silent, observers, taking into account the threats. You did not play heroes with bravado and did not count on good luck, only on their own minds and skills.
"No, not here. I am not mad yet." You say, snapping him from his thoughts."The forests are beautiful. The fields. Rivers and lakes. The rest of Panem is industrialized. Concrete and factories everywhere. There is... a kind of peace here if you close your eyes to certain things. Maybe you will stay here long enough to find out about it by yourself." And something about you—the warm tone of your voice and the sparkles in your eyes as you talk about your favourite places—makes Coriolanus feel a sudden urge to stay here for a while—just as you suggested. Since he was going to be here for a while anyway, he might as well have some fun... right?
"I could use a guide." He says this before he can even think about it, as he sees Lucy Gray slowing down, obviously getting closer to your house.
He didn't know why he cared so much about seeing you again. You were nothing. Just a district hunter. He would leave the 12, find a way to get back to the Capitol, and forget about everything that brought him here. But damn, that little smile of yours made him feel butterflies in his stomach. He was pathetic. And he hated himself for it.
"I can be one."
"Aren't you afraid that people will see you with the peacekeeper?" You raise your eyebrows, shocked by his words. "I saw you looking around. Don't worry. She specifically directs us to streets that are... less frequented." He reveals his observations to you, and for the first time since you two introduced yourself, he sees that the note of fear and caution has disappeared from your eyes for a moment.
Your curious look causes him to have heart palpitations. That was weird for him. Maybe he was sick? He just hoped he hadn't caught anything from those bar rats.
"You really are perceptive, aren't you?" You ask, and he shivers, feeling your analytical gaze on him.
Coriolanus can't say he doesn't enjoy the thrill of excitement as you both try to solve the secrets the other is hiding. Talking to you was… nice. Most of the peacekeepers were as dumb as nails. Muscle mass and nothing else. And he had grown tired of Sejanus's moralising talk a long time ago. Talking to you would be good for him in some way. He wouldn't go completely crazy here. At least that's how he tried to explain to himself his strange and sudden desire to meet you again. And often. Very often.
"I was told so." He says this as you arrive at the door of your house. Coriolanus looks around carefully and is pleased to see that this is one of the better, quieter alleys. He makes a mental note to take more night shifts here. Just to keep an eye on you.
Before you walk into your house with Lucy Gray, you turn to look at him one last time.
"Well, I hope you won't miss the Capitol too much... Coryo." And when his nickname leaves your lips, he knows that this won't be the last time he sees you.
He watches as the door closes behind the two of you, taking in the last sight of you. He returns with Sejanus to their unit, completely ignoring his chatter about Lucy Gray as he thinks about you. Over time, he will find that he will do this more and more often. Thinking about you.
But neither of you knows how much you will regret this night in the future.
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You walk up the stairs of the presidential palace wearing a beautiful white dress. Your mask fits to the top of your face, revealing only your mouth, chin and part of your jaw. You feel terrible, but you have to somehow blend in with the crowd of rich assholes who are enjoying their president's birthday party while district children tremble at the thought of the upcoming 22nd Hunger Games.
The only thought that comforts you is that he will die before dawn. And that you can have a glass of champagne.
You give your cloak and fake invitation to some peacekeeper the poor avox who are waiting at the entrance to serve everyone gathered. It makes you want to vomit when you think about how the man you let touch yourself became such a monster who decided to sew their mouths shut instead of cutting out their tongues.
Of course, with a red thread.
You go deeper into the room. You try to stay in the crowd, not on the outskirts, so as not to catch anyone's eye and so HE won't be able to see you. It may have been 12 years, but you're not sure if he forgot about you enough to not recognise your figure in the crowd. Maybe you tormented his nightmares as much as he tormented yours. You hoped to. Bastard didn't deserve to sleep soundly like a baby.
You're standing in a group of people, listening and laughing at the stories being told, and you're about to excuse yourself and browse around the big villa a bit and place some of the traps when suddenly you hear a tapping on a glass. You turn around with the rest of the people, making sure you're neither in the front nor the last row.
You freeze as Coriolanus' voice echoes through the room.
You have prepared for this moment many times. You predicted thousands of different scenarios for your first meeting, after... that special, rainy day at the lake when you went your separate ways. And you thought you were ready to bear the sight of him. But as soon as you look up at him, you feel your heart beat nervously. And not in that exciting way when you see your prey and are ready to attack.
As you sing a forced 'Happy Birthday' with other people after his speech, you allow yourself to steal one brief glance at him. He looks different.
More mature. More dangerous. Stronger. Powerful.
The golden mask, the only one of its kind in the room, covering his nose and just a small part of his face, the part around his eyes and eyebrows, only emphasises this more clearly.
And the red colour of his suit, along with all his... dominant attitude that emanates from him, are enough evidence of the red flag he was that you didn't notice when he was a peacekeeper in a blue uniform. His hair is longer and slicked back with gel, emphasising his rough, hard jawline and piercing blue, icy eyes. The man who stood in the middle of the room was dangerous. So much so that you felt nervous, thinking about how the hell you were going to kill him today.
You had a plan, but you knew that in every pursuit of prey, there were risks that could not be predicted. When hunting a bear, you don't face it with all your strength. You are waiting for the moment to attack. And now, looking at Coriolanus Snow in all his glory, you began to have doubts about your plan and the abilities of the other rebels. Maybe you will have to play the first violin this evening and aim a gun at him yourself. You shiver at even the thought of it.
And then his eyes find yours. For a very short while, but enough to make you shiver under his glance.
He blinks at you, then shifts his gaze to something or someone else. You feel a lump building in your throat, the words of the song being forced out of your mouth with a more and more trembling voice. He recognised you. Or not. You did not know. His subsequent actions didn't indicate it, but he had been staring at you for far too long to be sure of anything.
You don't like how quickly you're losing control.
That's why you leave at the first opportunity, hiding in the bathroom upstairs. You wait for the peacekeeper patrol to pass, and when they go to the second floor, you start setting up traps at the different spots of the presidential palace. You decide to forget about the events from a few minutes ago for a moment. Only peace will save you. You know about it. That's why you do everything to forget about his icy irises.
Well, at least until you have to go back to the ballroom again.
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"A little higher." He whispers in your ear behind you, his hand wrapped around yours, as you aim his shotgun at the deer. "Eyes open, breath held, muscles tense."
You shoot and hit the animal. The gun bounces slightly, but Coriolanus holds you close and tight enough that you barely change your position, only trembling slightly as the gun clicks off.
"I prefer arrows, but thanks for showing me how to use it." You say cheekily as you approach the deer you have aimed perfectly at.
He shakes his head at you, slinging the gun over his shoulder. He watches you as you kneel next to the deer, preparing it to be carried to the district.
"You know, my teachings aren't free." He says this as you get up and walk towards the river to wash your hands. He takes the deer's body and obediently follows you.
He had the day off today and decided to use it to spend time with you. Lately, he's been running away from everyone more and more often to walk in the forest with you. You were talking and fooling around. Coriolanus has never felt so... free as with you. He could get used to this. If he hadn't experienced the comforts of the Capitol. He knew you would get used to the capital. Maybe he'd even let you go on little trips and escapades in the woods once he got back there with you as his wife. Of course, only with him. And with peacekeepers guarding you two, he didn't want to end up like his father.
"Isn't it?" You ask with that mischievous smile of yours, washing your hands in the river. "And here I thought you were noble, private Snow."
"Stop it." He growls menacingly as you don't call him by a nickname he loved to hear from your lips. But you can see by the sparkle of amusement in his eyes. A smile spreads across your face as you continue fooling around.
"Only that? You know that I love to tease you too much to just stop..." He cuts you off mid-sentence, leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss.
You freeze for a moment, feeling his lips brush against yours and his hand run through the back of your hair. Even if you wanted to pull away from him, you couldn't because of the way he wrapped his hands around you. You should feel trapped and outraged by his behaviour, by the fact that he didn't ask for your permission or leave you the chance to pull away. But all you could do then was grab him by his dog tag and pull him closer to you.
You moan into his mouth as you find out that kissing Coriolanus Snow is the most pleasurable thing in the world.
You place your hands on either side of his neck as he grabs your waist gently, pressing your bodies as close to each other as possible. His lips caress yours gently at first, testing the waters. When he sees that you're not pulling away from him, he deepens the kiss, completely taking over the control that, surprisingly, you willingly give him. You've never been kissed like this in your life. So desperate, so needy, so possessive. And you know that you will never feel this way with anyone else in your life.
And for the first time, you have the opportunity to feel that moment that has been repeated so often in books—kissing someone until you have no more oxygen left in your lungs. Because before him, no one wanted you enough to give you half the sensations that Coriolanus gave you. And you suspected that he felt the same.
"I had this type of payment in mind." He whispers hoarsely, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes are closed, giving you the opportunity to admire his face up close. And god, he's perfect. In all his ounces, you can't even imagine how ethereal he must have been in the Capitol. (The perfect devil, tempting you until you fall.)
"Oh... um... well... be careful… with such a low payment you may be… taken advantage of by some girls." You manage to gasp, gathering the remnants of your mind that weren't occupied with the thought of him and the heavy breathing he was taking because of you.
"There is only one girl in this terrible, musty place, for whose special attention I can get anything she whishes." He says this, opening his eyes and cupping your cheek tenderly. And if your nature were any different (or if he would use a little more of his charm on you), you would melt under his touch, but you couldn't resist the opportunity he gave you.
"Anything, you say..." You mutter in mock thought with a smirk. And all Corilanus can do is smirk stupidly when he sees the familiar spark of malice in your eyes.
He enjoyed challenges, and he liked it even more when he beat you every time in your 'little fights and teasing'. He liked that you weren't completely submissive and that you could fight and banter with him instead of trembling in fear and trusting him blindly. You were almost his equal. Not that he was searching for one. But of all the girls, he knows you were the closest to his perfection. He just needed to work on your compliance a little bit before he could take you with him to the Capitol. After all, you couldn't tease him in public.
"Don't tease." He warns, humming as well, a smirk blooming on his lips despite his attempts to fight it off. He could afford a little... frivolity in the district. He would act completely differently in the Capitol, but for now, he enjoyed every carefree moment with you he could get. He couldn't remember the last time he had had to worry about the opinion of society.
"Oh, but that's the funniest thing to do now..." You continue with a smirk, leaning in to steal a kiss from him. He accepts it with a smile that quickly fades as you pull away from him and run away, laughing.
"And what is this?!" He shouts, running after you.
"A hunting lesson! I won't kiss you for yours in return, Snow!" You reply with a laugh, speeding up.
You ran away from him for an hour until you got tired of it all and ran into him laughing, deciding that he'd had enough of him chasing you for now. He immediately took you into his arms and kissed you, holding you tightly to his chest so that his rapidly beating heart was palpable to you. You placed small kisses on his snout as he held you tightly in his embrace, panting.
"Promise you'll never run away from me. That you'll never leave me." You raise your eyebrows in shock at his request, but you don't question it. You simply nod and press a kiss of promise to his lips as he pushes you against the nearest tree.
Your kiss becomes more feverish, more urgent as you feel his hardness through his peacekeeper uniform. Just a few weeks ago, you would have despised yourself for being so close to him. But it was your Coryo. That's why you don't interrupt him when he unzips your pants and takes them and your underwear off in one move.
You hold your breath as he kneels in front of you and grabs your hips with an iron grip. He presses a kiss on your thighs, teasing you and leaving little bites and bruises there before graciously shifting his attention to where you really need it. You moan, biting your lip to keep from screaming as he slowly circles your clit with his tongue, teasing you to no end. He pushes your hips against the tree every time you try to push against his tongue from a different angle. This frustrates you even more, especially after the gun slung over his shoulder shifts, causing the barrel of the shotgun to dig into your stomach.
"Coryo..." You moan, scratching his head as you try and futilely try to grab his close-cropped hair. He moans at the feeling, stimulating you even more.
He takes pity on you, putting more effort into his work as his fingers start to hit the spot that made you lost your mind. The bark of the tree digs into your back, but all you feel is Coriolanus; your entire world is limited to the movements of his fingers that bring you unimaginable pleasure that cannot be described in any words. All you can do is moan his name, which he finds flattering enough to make you cum around his fingers. Although he had no plan to let you cum when he started to play with your sweet cunt. You were making him too soft for you...
His tongue teases you as he licks along your knee, up your thigh, to stop a few moments before the place where you really needed him to reach your peak of pleasure. He smirks and suddenly bites into your thigh, causing a scream of his name from your lips to echo through the forest. He grunts, licking and sucking the spot on your thigh that he bit, feeling how he hardened in his pants by simply sucking your skin and fingering you. He loved every single sound you made because of him. If tasting you on his lips wasn't as tempting for him as it was for now, he would just kneel there and watch how you kept chasing your orgasm on his fingers.
"Scream for me, my little hunter." He says this and leans forward. His nose teases your clit before he finally licks you, testing your taste. He moans as his favourite flavour spreads across his taste buds. If he had you in the Capitol, he would never starve, he thinks as he begins to fuck you with his tongue, collecting everything that his skillful fingers caused to flow from your little pussy. For him. Because of him. His.
You grip his arms tightly, his gun somehow twisted so that it was pressed against your leg and stomach, but you don't care as he kneels in front of you and sucks the senses out of you through your cunt. You can only moan loudly and scream his name, digging your nails into his shoulders as you pull him closer to you as he makes you come. He licks up everything he gets for his work, leaving nothing to leak from your thighs onto the forest floor.
Coriolanus feels his hardness pressing against his pants, but chooses to ignore it. He won't take you like some district barbarian in the woods. He will do it well. Maybe even in the Capitol... you would look beautiful, wrapped in the most expensive sheets. And while you catch your breath and try to recover, he wonders how he's going to get his little hunter with him back to the Capitol when Dr. Gaul replies to the message he sent her.
He adjusts the gun hanging on his shoulder and stands up, licking his fingers off of the remains of your sweet juices. Unimaginable pride rises in his chest, as does a feeling of possessiveness when he sees your knees shaking and you barely standing, leaning on the tree behind you. He chuckles, remembering the sight. He will definitely think about it, while jerking off himself when he will be alone at the barracks.
"I will always catch you. No matter how long it takes." He says, taking you in his arms when he sees that you're unable to stand on your own in your post-orgasm haze. Another thing that increases his ego.
You didn't know how much that sweet promise would turn out to be a bloodthirsty threat. So you let him carry you through the forest as you both headed back to 12.
The next day, you were delivered money in exchange for the deer you and Private Snow had hunted together. From his superior, Commander Hoff. Even then, he was using you for his own gain.
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"Are you lost, miss?" You stop in your quick steps. You curse internally when you hear his voice in the hall. You were about to go downstairs and go to the ballroom. But no. Coriolanus Snow always had to screw up your job.
"Mr. President." You say, trying to change your tone of voice as you turn around and see him. "I was just looking for a spare bathroom."
"Ah yes. Women's ones seem to be… very crowded. Have you made it, little bathroom hunter, or do you need help?" He asks, walking over to you. He shouldn't be here. Certainly not that close to you. Meg was supposed to focus his attention on her and flirt with him. You didn't know what the hell he was doing on the first floor instead of in the ballroom celebrating his birthday.
And when he called you a hunter, you tried your hardest not to shiver in fear at the thought of him seeing through you. But if he recognised you, would he act so... calm around you? Peacekeepers would probably have surrounded you long ago if he had...
"I did it, Mr. President. Ah! Happy birthday! May you watch over us for a very long time." You wish him well, and he just smiles. This isn't one of his forced, political smiles. No.
It was a wolfish smile, a dangerous one. The one that he had a habit of showing you when he managed to outsmart you tracked you down in the forests of District 12.
"Thank you, my darling. You wouldn't deny a man his birthday wishes, would you?" A shiver runs through you as his irises focus on you. His tone is quieter and darker as he asks you a seemingly innocent question. But you know very well that nothing about Coriolanus Snow is innocent.
"Of course not, Mr. President." You reply courteously, already afraid of what he might want from you.
"Great. May I then?" He asks, sticking out his hand as he asks you to dance with a polite smile (if the devil can wear one).
"With great pleasure." You say, placing your hand in his. Without knowing why, you feel like you're putting it in the mouth of a lion... or in this case, a snake.
He holds your hand tightly as he helps you down the stairs. He doesn't let go of you for a second, and once you reach the dance floor, he wraps his arm around your waist and presses you against him, making you feel all his muscles hidden under his clothes. His eyes also never leave yours, which makes you very uncomfortable. Your anxiety only gets greater as you can't see the faces of the other members of your rebellion in the room.
"Nervous? Don't worry. You dance great." The smirk never leaves his face. And that's the kind of sly smirk. Of course, you dance great. After all, he taught you that himself in District 12.
"Thank you, Mr. President." At one point, the dance requires him to turn you around and press your back against his chest. You shiver as you feel his breath on your neck, then on your ear as he leans down, so he is very close to you.
"Do you think I'm stupid enough not to recognise you, Y/N? That I don't dream about you every night? That I didn't notice you when you and your ridiculous group of district dogs burst into my presidential palace?" You struggle, trying to break free from his grip, but he only grips your hip tighter, enough to surely leave bruises in the form of his fingers.
Coriolanus presses his lips against your temple and nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent. You shiver in his arms at the familiar feeling of his closeness. You feel the gun hidden under his vest press against the back of your back. A tender reminder of how you both were still enemies and a deadly threat to each other.
His hands roam over your body, exploring you as much as he can manage in a crowd of people. But you doubt anyone would dare point out how he presses his crotch against your ass, forcing you to feel every last bit of him as he continues whispering darkly into your ear. "I've been hunting you for so many years... only for you to come running straight to me, as always. I honestly couldn't have asked for a better birthday present. Let's play a game. Our favourite, darling. Try to escape, my little hunter." He hums as he finally lets go of you.
You're not wasting your time.
You don't turn to see him smirking mockingly, to see the way his cheeks have turned slightly pink from the adrenaline and excitement coursing through his veins, or to see the way the bulge in his pants has become slightly more visible.
You run away from him without looking back, pushing through the crowd of people who are leaving in panic after the announcement that they must leave the villa immediately as a result of the detection of an attempted assassination of the head of state.
But not everything is lost yet.
You saw a few familiar faces in the crowd of people, including Meg and Joseph. And you know that if you want to save your plan and the members of the rebellion, then you have to get Coriolanus' full attention. Make him drop his guard and focus entirely on you.
That's why instead of trying to escpae you stop at the foot of the stairs leading to the first floor.
You watch the crowd of people storming towards the exit. Peacekeepers are pushing through them, some trying to catch the more suspicious ones and interrogate them; everyone is focused on the exit door. So you had to go upstairs. You see Coriolanus slowly walking out of the ballroom. He looks around for you, and when his eyes catch yours, he stops, examining you. You kick off your high heels and run upstairs.
You run forward, hearing the clatter of his shoes close behind you.
You avoid all the traps you have set and hide in one of the rooms. Your feet feel icy from the cool marble you're walking on, but you don't pay much attention to it. Your heart is racing, and you try to breathe as quietly as possible as you hide behind the curtain, listening.
The first thing he does is open all the doors. Of course, carefully and not by himself. He was fully aware that you might have some unpleasant surprises in store for him. He was made very aware of it by one of the peacekeepers who went with him and unlocked the mechanism that caused his beautiful crystal chandelier to fall on the soldier's head.
The maids will have to clean the blood from the white marble again. The next time he renovates the villa, he will have to think about a more... useful floor colour.
"Guard the remaining floors and all exits. Two of you stand by the stairs. I'll take care of this one myself. You go and catch the rest of these street rats." He orders them in a dry tone.
He knows full well that he can fight you alone, and he will do it much better than this bunch of idiots. You weren't just a pure force. You were the mastermind. And only Coriolanus was smart enough to follow your way of thinking and catch you. Just like he always did.
You hold your breath as you hear the footsteps of the peacekeepers spreading across the floor. Only Coriolanus remains. You hear his breathing and his slow, methodical steps. You can imagine him analyzing the hall, looking for traps and potential threats you could prepare for him.
"You know you can't escape, right?" he begins, his footsteps echoing off the walls of the empty, silent corridor. "You've been slipping out of my hands for too long, little hunter. Do you think I don't remember our lessons? That I don't know your systems and customs? I don't know that you packed the entire presidential palace with your little surprises. What a pity that you will never catch me in any of them..."
You hear him enter the room next to you. He drops something to the floor and steps away, closing the door with a bang as the mechanism activates, spreading corrosive gas across the room that was intended to hurt him.
"Really? Such a school trick? I thought you knew better than to test such... childish methods on me, darling. I remember you telling me about something like this after a particular night at your apartment. Can you believe that I remember much better those lessons during which you were moaning and screaming my name?" He chuckles, sinisterly, darkly at the memory.
And then you hear a step. And another one. And another one. Slow, unhurried, and careful. It was so quiet that you wouldn't have heard them if the villa wasn't as quiet as it is now.
He was approaching you slowly and saliently, just as you taught him all those years ago. As usual, he turned out to be a very talented student.
"I never thought you'd be a rebel. After all, you were always so submissive to me... especially under me. And wanting me dead... you know I've killed and turned into Avox for lesser crimes against me and the Panem? But don't worry... your mouth and tongue are too useful for me to take the pleasure they can give away from me ever again."
He starts whistling, checking another room. As you hear him pulling the covers off the bed, you slowly emerge from your hiding place. You take a small step closer to the bathroom and freeze as the floor creaks beneath you.
"Spikes embedded in the mattress? Were you hoping to seduce me and put me on this deathbed? We can always try this... on a less lethal mattress, of course. What would you say, little hunter? Pardon. My sweet rebel?" You close the door quietly behind you and look around the dark room. Window. Maybe if you could open it...
"All these years, and you still use the same perfume." He grunts and closes the door behind him. You shudder, realising that he knows you're in this room. You tighten your hand on the knife hidden in the sleeve of your dress and wait in the cold bathroom for his next steps. "Don't you have a little Deja vu? It reminds me of when you and Lucy Gray ran away from me. That bitch is still hiding. I suspect you don't know where, but you are in contact through some letters or something. As soon as I find her, I will kill her on the spot. I know very well that she was the reason you left me. Don't get me wrong, I'm also angry at you for that... but not as mad as I am at her."
After Sejanus was hanged, he and you planned to escape together. And God, you loved it. You would have sacrificed your whole life for him if it weren't for Lucy Gray, who told you the truth about your beloved devil. So when he came out of the cottage near the lake, worrying about how you had been gone for too long and looking for you with a gun in his hand, you ran away.
"Y/N! Y/N, where are you?! Y/N! Y/N! I will find you! There is no fucking place you can hide from me! Can you hear me, hunter?! NO FUCKING PLACE! YOU ARE MINE! YOU WILL BE ALWAYS MINE! I will mark you like cattle and tie you to my side forever!"
You dream of his screams at some night.
"You promised you wouldn't leave me! You lying bitch!"
You hear his footsteps in the other room as he opens the curtains and checks to see if you're outside the window.
"You think I won't find you?! That you can crawl into a hole that I can't get you out of?! YOU'RE MINE, Y/N! Alive or dead, I don't care! YOU BELONG TO ME!"
You hear him take steps towards the closet, opening it and throwing things out, making sure it's empty. You hear him knocking over several items—the bed, the armchairs. You hold your breath as there is complete silence. He's probably looking at the bathroom door.
You feel your heart beating in your chest just as fast as it did that day when you hid from him as he walked around with a gun, screaming and calling for you. And you almost left. You almost left, wanting to fall into his arms as he kneeled in the middle of the forest and cried, smelling his mother's scarf that he gave you and which was saturated with your scent. But before you could, he screamed and started shooting at the mockingjays in the trees. So you ran away.
And you've been running away since then, hoping that you were a terrible teacher to him and that he would never find you...
"If you leave willingly, I will spare you the unpleasant part, my little rebel. Maybe you can even convince me to forget your transgressions completely… well within reason. However, I suspect that my bed is more comfortable than the floor of a prison cell. Don't you think?"
Maybe if he had used a less mocking tone, if you hadn't heard the pleasure dripping from his voice at his superiority over you and the excitement at catching you, then maybe you would have left willingly. You shake your hand, holding the knife tighter in your hand. No. You wouldn't leave and let him catch you without a fight. He has done too much to you and to other district people to pretend he's not a monster.
"I count to three." You hold your breath, stopping yourself from shaking. The cool air gives you goosebumps as you wait for him to take a step closer to the bathroom's door. "One."
You hear the rustle of fabric; he must have taken off his jacket and probably his mask too. You reach up to your face and untie your own mask, taking it off with a trembling hands.
"Two." Before he enters the room, you hide, so you're standing behind the door, which Coriolanus opens before he counts to three.
Another trick you taught him. Act unpredictably. Don't warn the prey about your next step, and don't let it catch you by surprise.
That's why Coriolanus stands still when he sees the bathroom window open. Your mask lies on the windowsill, taunting him as the moonlight reflects off the silver thread from which it was sewn and glows, tempting him to follow the trail.
That's why, as soon as he comes to the window, you quickly step out from behind the door and close it behind you with a bang.
A moment later, you hear his curses and quick footsteps. You run forward and enter the next room, being careful not to activate any mechanisms. Just as you close the door behind you, you feel him grab the handle on the other side.
In a panic, you do the same and pull the door towards you, wrestling with him. You know it won't get you very far. Coriolanus was stronger than you. He would get inside quickly. You had to think of another way to escape and create distance between you.
"That's enough, Y/N! We had fun, but that's it. You have no way to escape. You know it damn well! Be a good girl and get out." He growls at you, trying to push the door open and get inside.
"So you can kill me?! Hang me like Sejanus?!" You ask angrily, wrestling with him at the door. You feel yourself getting weaker, so you make an instinctive decision. You let go of the door and ran to the window, opening it. You turn around as the door slams shut. You two are standing in the same room again.
You look at each other carefully. You both breathe quickly, analysing each other's possible movements.
"You know I would never hurt you." He starts by taking a small step towards you. You step back to the open window, and he freezes. You may have been on the first floor, but the presidential palace was huge. If you jump out, you will smash into the asphalt and die. And he won't win. Coriolanus cannot afford this. That's why he's standing still for now.
"You killed people. How was I supposed to know I wouldn't be next?" You accuse him, trying to keep your voice from shaking. Your mind analyses all the possibilities. You're tempted to jump. Free yourself from him once and for all. Make him lose. Although this time.
"You could have trusted me. Just a little longer."
"Sorry, I have a survival instinct. Very strong survival instinct." You say this, avoiding his gaze. He takes advantage of your distraction and takes a step towards you, which you don't notice because you are too busy thinking of an escape plan.
"Not that big since you came here. For what? To kill me? Will you stab me in the heart, Y/N? Will you shoot me? Will you poison me?"
"You left me no other choice." You growl at him, furious, tightening your grip on the dagger.
"You don't want to do this. I know you. If you really wanted me to fall into a trap, you'd make it so that I couldn't move my damn foot an inch without activating something. So I'll ask again. Why did you come here?"
You do not know. Really. You can't answer his question.
Because... Yes, you hated him. And yes, you despised him. And yes, you were afraid of the monster he had become. But nothing could change the fact that, deep down, you loved him. You cried hundreds of tears because of him, which ricocheted off the walls of the wall you so eagerly built around yourself and your stupid hearth so no one else would be able to hurt you again. You didn't let anyone else get to know you. Not like Coriolanus did. He was the only one who saw the real you. The part of you that you were so afraid to show anyone else or to even look at them by yourself.
"Y/N. Look at me." It's not a request. This is a command. Subtle, but still. And you know, that's all he'll give you. Commands, expectations.
Never look your prey in the eyes. The first rule you taught him. The only one he always broke.
Maybe because of sadism? Maybe he enjoyed watching realisation shine in his victims' eyes as they realised he was winning. But you can't resist following his command and looking into those icy irises you once knew so well.
Or maybe he really cared about you more than anyone else. You'd like to believe that.
"I can give you everything. The whole world. All you have to do is trust me." He says, taking a few steps closer to you. You bite your lip. You can try to run away, but you know he will catch you. You weren't on your own turf. And he had a hundred tracking dogs, ready to find you. Crook.
"Trust you? After everything you've done?" You mock him. But he doesn't answer. There is perfect silence in the room.
Before you know it, he runs towards you. He activates the mechanism, causing a crossbow arrow to pierce his arm. He ignores it in favour of reaching out to you. He quickly injects something into your neck, holding you tightly against his chest. You stabbed him in the stomach. His blood spurts onto your dress as he makes sure you can't move, ignoring his wounds for a moment. Of course, he retaliates by tightening his grip on you, leaving his fingerprints on your skin.
"So you chose the hard path. Too bad, my little hunter. For you. I'll be damned glad to have the opportunity to train you. I will make you the perfect first lady, my darling." He whispers in your ear, and as you fall unconscious in his arms, you realise one terrifying thing. He caught you. He won this round.
You have to put plan B into action all alone.
You foresaw that your plan might fail and that someone would betray you. That's why you and Meg came up with... a contingency plan. After all, you had to keep your promise.
You're not leaving this presidential palace until you see the life drain from Coriolanus Snow. It will be your prison until then. A golden cage. No matter how long it will take... Or at least try to convince yourself that you have to do it. Because you know you must do it for the good of Panem. That you can't back down from anything at the next opportunity. You can't hesitate. No matter how much you will be drunk on the blame and pain of killing him.
It was a game of survival. A game only you and Coriolanus knew how to play. You had to win. For the good of people. To stop the suffering he caused.
After all, the caged wolf was still a threat. Even for poisonous snakes.
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fangsandfeels · 4 months
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Got hit with more thoughts about spawns and Cazador...
...and naturally, I'm posting it here because I'm no longer a functional human being.
I remember the lingering question that Astarion seemingly being only one of the spawns using seduction to lure victims in. At least, there is no menition of other’s doing so, except for Petras. So, why is that? Why Astarion was the only one?
In my opinion, it stems from Cazador’s very particular choice of victims. In all these years, he acquired only seven spawns (except for the thousands of Turned nobody knew about), and almost all of them used to be accomplished or talented people:
- Violet, a beloved and talented songbird from Reithwin;
- Dalyria, a respected doctor working in the Parliament;
- Leon, a sorcerer (a spell modifiaction he came up with shows how good he is at his magic);
- Astarion, a magistrate with a promising future, centuries of life ahead of him, and a beauty worthy of a thousand paintings.
Following this tendency, we can assume that Yousen, Aurelia, and Petras also were similarly talented or good at something enough to attract Cazador’s attention and make him envious.
The bastard thinks very highly of himself. He calls himself the most intelligent and beautiful creature out there, and spends hours writing letters to other vampire lords, trying to convince them of his grandeur. He attempts to inflate his ego, making it finally big enough to overcompensate for his miserable inferiority complex, in any way he can: so, whenever he spies someone with a talent or potential, someone who might be better than him at anything, he snuffs them away, adds to his collection, and then breaks them over and over, making them believe that they’re nothing. He is the father who gives them purpose; they are his spawn who owe him everything; and everything they have belongs to him.
And maybe, aside from tortures, and humiliation, and gaslighting, and forcing “siblings” to hurt each other, he came up with one more way to break them - when he forces them to hunt, he forces them to use everything that made them special, loved, respected, and admired for the most gruesome things.
- Violet, previously a talented singer whose voice was fondly remembered up to Reithwin’s fall, using her voice to catch attention; using her image and charm to lure people into the palace to their death.
- Dalyria, picking her victims around apothecaries and temples that responded to the people's suffering by closing doors in their faces, seeking out refugees and ailing citizens low on coin, offering to help them, kindly inviting them to “her place” (if we take Karlach’s family as an example, finding a healer who would agree to help a less-than-wealthy family is quite a problem at the city).
- Leon, using his talents and magic to nab people from the street, to drag them to Cazador without a fight while knowing that he will never be able to use the same power against the bastard himself.
- Astarion, a previously sophisticated, proud, and beautiful elf, stripped of his dignity and pride, using his body to either seduce poor young and inexperienced souls (fulfilling their image of an ethereal and caring lover) or let himself be pawed at by drunkards and brothel-goers.
I don’t think any of Cazador’s choices were accidental. I don't think he had to roam the streets at night, looking for potential candidates; that he ever Turned any of them by chance.  
They all caught his eye at some point, became an object of his obsession, and then fell victim to a scenario where they were confronted by a promise of salvation - and each time, it made Cazador giddy with excitement and a sense of self-importance. He took them away from the world because he could. He will twist and shape them to his whim because he can. And then, he will take everything from them, reducing them to miserable wretches because this is who they should be, compared to him.
They will belong under his heel, scared, helpless, and obedient, worshipping him and fearing him. Forever.
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thanksbutno98 · 8 months
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Make Her Happy
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John Price x fem!reader
Warning: swearing, mentions of sex, sexual talk, death and war, children, pregnancy, not edited.
Summary: After constant requests to have your husband John Prices’ military buddies over you finally get your way.
Authors note: I’ve been working on this one before the requests came in. I’ve had about a dozen requests for 141 meeting the Price family and I’ve taken little bits from each and well heres the end product. All the requests made the storyline soooo much better so thank you so so much everyone!
——————-
“Laswell, what can I do for you.” John nodded at you as he pressed his shattered phone to his ear. Disappearing from the dinner table and out the back door to the patio. Both of your children stared at you in a way to understand how they should feel at their fathers exit.
“Wait, does that mean dads leaving? Didn’t you say he was gonna be home for a long time?” Jj asked passing you the salt since you had just asked for it. A bit stunned you answered hoping to quell any uncertainty your children might be feeling.
“Laswell is probably just asking for some advice or your fathers opinion.” You said.
Standing to get a better look out the window and on to the patio. Your garden looked angelic in the porch light, the roses were in full bloom with the baby’s breath decorating them. The peonies Evelyn helped you plant were growing better than they had in a long time; the last time they looked this amazing was when you pregnant with her.
“Can I have more gravy, please.” Evelyn asked bringing a spoonful of peas to her mouth.
“Yes, love.” You glanced up to see John through the bay window, pinching the bridge of his nose. Head bowed as if he had just gotten bad news.
John was dressed in blue jeans he complained were getting tight because of your cooking. Honestly, you liked him better with a bit of pudge on his edges; it meant he had been home for awhile. He had a fitted white short sleeve on with a smudge of purple nail polish across the sleeve from Evelyn chasing his around with it.
You and Jj laughed on the couch while she tried to corner your husband to let her finally paint his nails. It ended with Jj on John’s back and Evelyn hugging his leg as they tried to take him down. You tickled them both off him and chased them out into the garden where John sprayed them with the hose.
John’s hair was neat and short having just gotten a haircut. There was a hickey neatly tucked under the collar of his shirt. His facial hair was thick and shaped perfectly, opting for a full beard instead of his usual mutton chops. The glow of the patio light cast a dreary shadow over the tall built man you called your soulmate.
You could not help how the sight of him made your heart ache and stomach drop. John had only been home for two weeks but you knew he was about to leave his two children and his three month pregnant wife. Taking a breath you centered yourself deciding holding on to the night you shared in that hotel room would keep you company in soon to be lonely times. The memory getting sprayed with the hose and running around the backyard would keep your children’s hearts full until the next time their father was home.
Spooning more gravy onto your daughters plate you grabbed your husbands after. Refilling the empty plate with a large scoop of mashed potato’s, peas, carrots, and another piece of chicken, then a small amount of gravy. Normally you would drown his plate in it but his doctor said he needed to cut back on salt. You were not even sure what news John had gotten but it more often then not was orders to leave so you prepared your fragile heart for that.
“Darling, do we have plans tomorrow?” John was standing at the back door staring at you. Hand over the the bottom portion of the phone so Kate could not hear your answer. John was shaking his head up and down as if to have you lie that you two did have plans. It was a bit lost on your since you tended to be honest.
“No, we were just planning on grilling and swimming in the pond. Why?” You asked sitting back down and giving your husband a quizzical look. Sighing deeply John spoke again.
“No, we don’t. Best be over around 1ish.” You heard as John then forced his goodbyes after giving your address to Kate.
“What?” Jj asked looking at you with food decorating the corner of his mouth. You leaned over with your napkin and attempt to wipe the mess.
“Ew, stop mum. You could just tell me to wipe my face. I’m not a baby.” Jj complained, shrinking away from you.
“Sorry, you’re right. Please wipe your face.” You sat back down watching as your son missed the food on his face by a mile. John came in and sat down ignoring his families stares.
“Wipe your face, Jj.” John spoke avoiding your eyes. Then pointing to his own face to motion to his son where the mess lay.
“What was that about?” You asked. Watching as John instinctively started to eat, now that there was more food in front of him.
“Kate is taking us up on your offer to have her over for dinner.” John grumbled. Grabbing at the bowl of gravy and then covering his whole plate with the brown liquid.
“Wait really!” You half stood up, then shuffling your seat forward and sitting properly. You placed your chin on your palm as you batted your eyes at John. He was trying to hide the smile tugging at his lips. It always had him grinning when you got ecstatic about things even if it was something he dreaded.
“That’s not all. She asked to see if the boys were available and. . . Well, they are. So, I guess we’ll have a full house tomorrow.” John turned to you finally making eye contact. His blue eyes were bright as he grabbed his glass of wine and clinked it a against your water.
“That’s so exciting! We have to go to the shop in the morning. Their appetite anything like yours?” You asked. The words came tumbling out of your mouth in excitement. You were mentally doing a little dance at how amazing this news was compared to your former thoughts.
Attempting to do mental math at how much food you needed to buy in order to keep these military men fed you stared up at the ceiling, counting on your fingers. The excitement of having them all over made your heart thump loudly. You knew Ghost could eat a lot just by his pure stature. That was when the idea of baking popped in your head. John loved when you baked for him so that was a must.
“I’d say they eat more than me.” John stated simply taking a small sip of the dark red wine.
“That’s not possible. You eat soooo much food.” Evelyn giggled, taking another large bite of her peas; avoiding the carrots. John narrowed his eyes being slightly offended by his daughters words.
“I want you two to clean your rooms after dinner.” You told them and then glanced at John.
“Why do we have to clean our rooms? It’s not like they’re going to come up there.” Evelyn whined with a pout.
“Don’t argue with your mother.” John started the pigtailed girl down. She only pouted bigger and went back to eating.
“And you need to mow the lawn and get that damn bike out of the living room.” You narrowed your eyes at John because you had been asking him all week to put it in the shed.
“The lawns fine.” John sighed out then quickly back peddled when he saw the death glare you had pointed at him.
“You shouldn’t argue with mummy.” Evelyn spoke oh so sweetly. You chuckle a bit at your daughters retort.
“I’ll take my own advice. I’ll mow the lawn first thing tomorrow” John conceded.
“Thank you.” You smiled sweetly giving John a little wink.
“So we’re gonna meet the people you work with?” Jj asked. Motioning for more chicken saying a quite ‘please’, which John reached over and served him. It was sweet not being the only one to serve your kids food. Now your husband was home and you could actually enjoy a meal.
“Yes, and I want both of you on your best behavior.” John said sternly. Pointing the serving spoon at both children as if to punctuate his message.
“So, you’re like their boss?” The questions would be constant until your guests came over. Jj was infatuated by his fathers job and the idea of meeting the people his dad bossed around was exciting to the young boy.
“The boys yes. I am far from being Kates boss.” John waited for you to look away as he scooped his peas on to Evelyn’s plate. She did not miss a beat scooping her carrots on to his.
“Who are the boys?” Evelyn asked, immediately devouring her peas.
“Well, there’s Gaz, Soap, and Simon.” John said evenly. Taking your hand and squeezing roughly, then your husband kissed the back of your hand sweetly. John and you shared a love struck look as he gave in to finally having people from work over. You were planning the whole event tomorrow in your mind wanting it to be perfect.
“Soap? How’d he get that nickname?” Jj asked entranced by his fathers words.
“It’s classified.”
—————
It was Saturday morning as John pushed the shopping cart down the isle of the super market. He was hunched over and picking grapes out of the bunch you had placed in there to buy. Jj was sitting in the carriage on his hand held gaming device while Evelyn ran around asking for everything. John remembered why he never took her food shopping. They always ended up with 10% of what you sent him for and 90% sweets.
“Daddy, you have to try this.” Evelyn showed John some sugary cereal he knew she had never tried. You were pretty strict about what the kids could have, taking their diet very seriously.
“Y/N?” John immediately called down the isle to ask if this was an appropriate option.
You looked over with some much healthier options in your hands a bit confused. John lightly grinned at you in your leggings and cute blouse. John saw the flash of a memory of you standing in leggings and his sweatshirt before you were his girlfriend; asking if he really needed that sugary crap. Seeing you pick out healthier options for him started far before you called him yours and now you were here picking them out for your children. It reminded John how you were his through it all.
Your hair was tied up and cheeks rosy from just arguing with him over steaks. John did not see the need in buying the best quality meat but you insisted on it and it ended with him agreeing with a smile. John had put you through enough he should only say yes, he told himself. No matter what you almost always gave him your best smile even if it was something you did not want to hear. So it was John’s turn to practice the skill you had mastered.
“Daddy, don’t tattle! We’re suppose to be on the same team.” Evelyn scolded John as if she was the adult. Shaking the chocolaty box of cereal at him.
“I’m on your mums team. Recruit Jj not me.” John chuckled watching as his daughters face scrunched up in annoyance. Turning to her brother he was already looking up at her. His thumb cast downward to show his disapproval.
“Jj?” Evenly whined.
“Piss, off Evie. Mum would never let us get that. Don’t trick dad, he’s too smart.” Jj looked at her annoyed.
“Oi, language. Don’t speak to your sister like that.” John corrected immediately but agreed with the sentiment.
“Sorry. But, c’mon? Bit ridiculous.” Jj shrugged and casted a hand at his sister. Then going back to his game. Evelyn stuck her tongue out at him but he was too busy to notice.
“If you talk to your sister like that she’ll be okay with anyone talking to her like that. You should never speak to a girl like that Johnathan. Ever. Try again.” John had his eyes fixed on his son intently. Jj only nodded and tried again.
“Not cool Evie. You’ll get dad in trouble with mum if he says yes to that.” Jj said confidently then peered over at John who shook his head in approval. It was important John taught his son how to treat people and let his daughter know she did not have to tolerate cruel words.
“Okay, so I got these. But I’ll let you pick one for the weekends only.” You walked back up to the carriage with the cereal you felt most suitable for your kids.
“This one!” Evelyn shouted handing you some chocolatey cereal.
“Your dads not huge on chocolate. Let’s find something you all like.” You gestured to the many option to your left.
“Daddy should like chocolate. It doesn’t spoil fast thats why we send it to soldiers.” Evelyn said rather smug having just learned this fact, she was hanging on to the edge of the carriage now.
“Yeah, American soldier.” Jj was so fast with his comment you knew he had actually listened to one of your many history lessons. It was not your best quality but you did tend to babble on and on about your job and the history tied along with it.
“Fair Evie, but doesn’t mean I have to like it.” John quipped. Chuckling lightly as his daughters intuitive reasoning.
“Dad likes fruit like blueberries and strawberries. His favorite is cheesecake though. Choose something like that.” Jj stated. His tongue peaking out of the corner of his mouth as he mashed the keys on the controller.
You and John shared an impressed look that your son had noticed that. John was a bit shocked his son picked up on those things. That was your territory, but that was the interesting part about your children. As much as Jj looked like John, had his temperament, and a need to protect he was loving like you. The sweetness that was so natural to you was inherited by your son and left him with a guilty conscious and people pleasing attitude.
“You don’t care, J?” John asked. You had left the conversation. Already searching through the sugary cereals that could be a good middle ground.
“Not really. I would rather have mums cereal so I can have ice cream after dinner.” Jj paused his game to look up at his father who was nodding in agreement.
“Let Evie have the cereal. Means no dessert.” John thought his decision would make his daughter give up but she didn’t.
“Fine by me!” Evelyn sneered tossing the box into the carriage. She ate that cereal every night when dinner was done. John and Jj asked to toss some on their ice cream but you and her denied them with giggles. You ended up catching John having a bowl of the chocolate cereal at 1am when he thought you were asleep. He claimed he only wanted to try it but you knew it was because it was the only sweet in the house so he settled.
—————
It was a hot summer day when John stepped out onto his front porch seeing a beat up truck pull up his long driveway. Laswell was already parked and was inside drinking while his gorgeous wife chatted to her. Last John saw she was helping you set up the kitchen island with the to many dishes you had made as sides to the meat John would be grilling. John told you, you were going overboard which resulted in you kicking him out of the kitchen and having him vacuum the living room.
John grinned as he saw Simon and Soap in the front seats. They somehow looked squished with Ghost hulking frame. Walking among the wild flowers John greeted Ghost, Soap, and Gaz. The group of men catching up and excited to come into the Price household. Soap was shocked to silence. Taking in the large farm house and realized it was filled with children. It was strange to think of Price with a big house and family because Soap thought that was not possible for people like them.
It took ten minutes before the four men were walking up to the end of the driveway that connected to the patio. The expansive backyard in full display with a burnt down barn house in the far distance. John had been contemplating tearing it down to create an accurate football pitch for his kids. They already had two nets up and both of his children were proficient at the sport. Accept for Evie she was showing prodigy status. Evelyn was gifted when it came to football and was built to be a striker while Jj was the best in his league as a defender.
“Those are my kids.” John gestured to Evelyn and Jj who were passing the football back and forth in their bare feet. They were making long crosses practicing their accuracy.
“Daddy, daddy, daddy! Those your friends?” Evelyn wound up and booted the ball past her brother and bolted over to her father, already knowing where it would land. The football whizzed cleanly through the air, swishing into the top left corner of the net with ease.
“Fuckin’ hell, beautiful shot.” Soap stood up a bit straighter at the impressive goal. The men were all a bit shocked to see a kid with accuracy like that. It only took the sight of the group of people to get Evelyns undivided attention.
“Yes. Evie, this is-“
“Gaz, Suds, and. . . I don’t remember your name. But it started with an ‘S’.” Evelyn was holding on to the belt loop of John’s pants as she stared up sparkly eyed at Ghost. Normally the masked man scared children away just by walking in the room but your daughter found him captivating.
“Suds!” Gaz broke out laughing and Soap could not help but chuckle a bit at the little girls mistake. Ghost and Gaz called Soap Suds for the rest of the day.
“Call me Ghost, pipsqueak.” Simon said gruffly but his intention was humor. He could not help but think back to the only time he had met you in his Captains office. He had used the same nickname which riled you up.
“Me? A pipsqueak? That makes you a giant.” Evelyn was unfazed as she gazed at the man with attitude. Her reaction was much like your own had been and there was no doubt the young girl was just like you.
“Okay, enough Evie.” John laughed awkwardly pulling her back as she tried to square up to Simon.
“What? The only people taller than you are grandad and Uncle Grayson and Uncle Gray, well he’s a giant. . .” Glancing at Ghost the young girl took in his appearance. Casting her blue eyes from the tip of Ghosts dirty boots up to his balaclava
“Ghosty is a bit of a chubby giant.” Evelyn pursed her lips, being a little too judgy. Mistaking Ghost muscular physique as fat.
“You should clean your boots.” She added. Her comment had everyone stifling a laugh.
“Evelyn, apologize.” John scolded.
“Evie, you shouldn’t be commenting on the way people look.” You were stepping out of the back door having just heard your daughter. You had a large trey of meats and Laswell was holding a trey of vegetables for grilling in hand you gave the four men a sweet smile. John was bending down and whispering for Evelyn to bite her tongue and be polite.
Each man froze for a split second now seeing you for a second time in years. You had not changed a bit, looking just as sweet and pretty. Somehow more so, time seemed to be on your side and graced you with more beauty. The fact Price had a wife as gorgeous and quick witted as you still took the men off guard.
You were dressed in a powder blue sundress with thin straps, meant as a coverup for swimming. The halter strap of your white bathing suit was wrapped around the back of your neck. Your hair was down and silky soft as it blew in the light summer breeze.
“Sorry mummy.” Evelyn hid against Johns leg trying to avoid your gaze. She knew when guests were over you were the stricter parent.
“Indy!” Soap and Gaz cheered. Gaz threw his hands in the air, a bottle of wine in one hand. Soap clapped against the bottle of scotch he brought. It was thrilling to see you again with such a welcoming smile.
“Hey boys! Long time no see.” You smiled brightly.
The last time they saw you, you had swindled them out of money in a game of poker. They had nothing but wonderful things to say about you since that day and asked their Captain to stop hiding you away. Your bubbly and friendly nature was waisted on the old grump they called Captain.
Gaz had to admit to himself that if you were not Price’s wife he would have become quite smitten with you. Soap thought you were gorgeous enough to ask John if you had a sister; which ended up being a mistake. It had him and Gaz running laps around the base until they were sick.
“There’s a lot more food inside. Why don’t you show them around the house, John.” You gave a kind smile.
“Course, darling.” John muttered sweetly.
“Darling?” Ghost asked. His question had the other men snickering. They too had never heard such sweet words from their captain.
“Mind yourself.” John turned and shot such a violent look Ghost knew not to joke. Jj saw the look his dad gave him when he was up to no good cast at the men he did not know. AND they seemed to listen. Jj was mesmerized by the scene but chose to pretend he didn’t see it.
“Make sure they feel welcome. I mean it.” It was the sweetest they had ever heard but your words were coated in venom. Just from your sickly sweet tone the men knew you ran a tight ship. It made them wonder if you ordered Price around.
“Jj, come say hi. I need you to run down the driveway and bring the barrels in.” You called to your son.
You stepped out in bare feet and placed the trey on the picnic table. As soon as John glanced from the sight of your ass when you bent over to look at Gaz and Soap the boys were both looking in odd direction. John’s eyes narrowed knowing all eyes had fallen on the same sight and this reminded him why he did not like men he respected around you. They almost always lost his respect by the way they looked at his wife. After this one glance none of the men made the same mistake, staying completely professional.
“Okay!” Jj called. Staying put in the back yard for a moment. Deciding to practice his juggling and try to not show his excitement unlike his sister. Now it was his chance to get to meet the men his dad commanded. John was Jj’s hero and he idolized the man so much he was nervous to meet the people who also respected his father. Would they think he was some bratty kid? Would they think his dad did a good job raising him? Would they like him?
Leaving the football in the freshly mowed grass Jj jogged over. Straightening his t-shirt with the Liverpool logo. Jj glanced down feeling self conscious in his grey athletic shorts. The young boy stood up a little straighter feeling the anxiety wash away as his father smiled confidently at him. John had told him to wear their football teams logo with pride so Jj tried to.
“Hi, I’m Jj.” With all his confidence Jj extended his hand to shake each man’s hand.
“No doubt you’re Price’s son.” Soap extended his hand and shook the young boys much smaller one firmly; gesturing at the logo on the boys tshirt.
“You look just like him.” Gaz added, shaking Jj’s hand a little softer than Soap had. Jj hesitated for a second as he reached his hand out towards Ghost.
“Don’t be scared.” Evelyn teased still holding onto her fathers pant leg.
“See you have shit taste in football too.” Ghost quipped being a die hard Manchester fan. Evelyn perked up at the foul language loving the crass behavior.
“Like Man U has done any good recently?” Jj could not help but shoot back. The man’s accent was so thick he instantly knew his preferred football team. Well it was a fifty fifty chance but he ended up being right.
“Atta boy.” John clapped his rough hand on Jj’s shoulder. The contact was something Jj would never forget. A moment in time where he would look back on forever. His father was proud and smiling genuinely and it was because of Jj’s actual opinion and in front of colleagues.
Chuckling deeply at his sons quickness and perception John and the men began to chat about football. Shooing his children away and having the men get comfortable and bringing out some beers. They were all in awe when they saw the spread you had laid out for them. Soap asked for a couple of your recipes which surprised you because you would not guess he could cook.
—————
“Another?” Soap asked handing John a freshly cracked beer. Taking the cold glass beverage your husband flipped the insanely large steaks you had bought. Then moving to the corn and pepper you forced him to grill since he was not much of a vegetable guy.
“Thanks, mate.” John gave a nod and polite tight lipped smile.
Soap went back to the picnic table a few feet away where Kate and Ghost had been sitting, sipping on their drinks and chatting with John about what he would be doing on leave. They had just found out you two were expecting your third child and were asking John’s opinion about it. They also found out the timeline of the pregnancy which had them all falling silent as they did the mental math. Realizing John was deployed with them while you had gotten pregnant.
John then proceeded to say you two were able to see each other while you were on a dig not too far from where he was stationed. It ended in whooping and hollering from Soap and Kate calling John a ‘sly dog.’ Ghost made a comment about John sneaking off a few times then called him a ‘dirty old man.’ John was throughly embarrassed by the comments and switched topics rather forcefully.
Ghost knew you were pregnant the moment he saw you. Maybe it was his own experience or his careful eyes. The way he watched John take things from you and twice now how his thumb brushed against your belly when you two were in close proximity gave it away. Your body suited you and a bump as small as that was hardly visible but was not enough for anyone to ask any questions.
Johns eyes glanced up as he shut the grills lid, to see you down the way in your white one piece bathing suit. John could not help but admire your form moving around the dock as you tossed the sinking toys into the pond for Jj to dive for. Your hair was now tied up with in a moss green clip, your tattoos on full display. Ass round and perky in your swim attire, your breasts looking so plump John wanted to bury his head in them and fall asleep like he had the previous night on the couch.
Gaz was standing on the dock a few feet away in his trunks as he tossed Evie into the pond. You were laughing uncontrollably as the little girl dashed for the shore so Kyle could toss her in again. She was a giggling mess having told her father an hour ago she liked the pretty one out of his colleagues; that being Gaz.
“She’s such a sweetheart.” Kyle turned to you with a wide grin. You could not ignore your daughters description also thinking he was a rather pretty man. You understood what your husband meant when he said you would never expect Gaz to be capable of war. Which is why you knew John admired him.
“Sometimes.” You laughed out. Keeping sharp eyes on the rippling water for Jj to come back up.
“Sometimes?” The laugh that left Gaz’s throat was melodic as your daughter threw herself at him and then he immediately chucked her high and far into the pond.
It was nothing compared to how John threw her into the water. John was a seasoned father who had practiced with Jj on the best way to toss his kid into the pond. John knew Jj liked to go far into the water and happily swim back. While Evelyn wanted to be thrown high as if her thick hair met the sky. You two joked she would end up being a pilot with how happy it made her to have her head in the clouds.
“Yeah, she can be an absolute terror. Gives me and John a run for our money. Not sure what we’re gonna do with a third.” You smiled contently as you watched Jj breach the water surface. Two out of four wrings in hand and his goggles fogged.
“A third?” Kyle stopped for a second as he watched Evelyn start her back stroke. Turning, he stood to his full height a bit confused.
“Oh, I’m pregnant.” You gestured to your baby bump surprised Gaz had not noticed. You felt it was obvious in your tight one piece bathing suit. It clearly was not by the absolutely shocked look on the young man’s face.
“Sorry, ma’am. Thought women got a bit rounder when having kids and you look exactly the same as the last I saw you.” Kyles eyes were staring at your belly then quickly looking away. As if he was caught staring at your ass.
“Don’t patronize me.” You joked, feeling your cheeks flush a bit at the unintentional compliment. Maybe your insecurities were misplaced and you were way too hard on yourself.
Glancing over your shoulder you made eye contact with John. His wolffish dark blue eyes were locked on you like he was ready to snipe you down. He instantly looked up into the clouds clearly being caught checking you out. John getting caught made you giddy but you did not want Kyle to know of your off handed flirting. So, the grin you wore was tugged down by either cheeks as you attempted to quell it. Pressing your lips at the end and going back to sweet half smile.
“Not my intention. I only mean-“ before Gaz could finish Evelyn was bounding towards him down the dock, arms outstretched. Gaz caught her by her underarms. Swinging her in two circles Gaz released her, sending the six year old bounding toward the deep water. Gaz watched until the water swallowed her whole. Turning back to you with one hand resting on his hip and the other hanging by his toned side, he gave you a soft look.
“A boy or girl?” Gaz asked sweetly
“We don’t know yet. John’s ecstatic.” You said softly into the warm summer air. Gaz perked up at your words. Watching as your smile turned to a timid look as if it was something that may get in his Captains way for work.
“10 quid its a a boy.” His words defused the worry.
“You’re on!” You couldn’t help but gamble against one of the many men you swindled out of money.
“He’s a good man” Kyle seemed proud to be able to say that as he shook your hand.
“The best” you matched his sentiment. Gaz’s eyes casted down at your beautiful wedding ring before he spoke.
“Course he is. Bet that’s why you married him. He was meant to be a dad.” Gaz said softly knowing John was a good dad without needing an ounce of evidence.
Hell the man didn’t know John had children until he showed up here with Soap in Ghosts truck.
“You know, he never thought he’d be good at it. Saying he wasn’t too sure about kids and then I got pregnant with Johnathan and well all that stuff faded and he’s been an amazing father since before Jj was even born.” It might have been the hormones but the thought of how much your husband had grown through the years was tear provoking. Rubbing away those rolling water works you apologized which had Gaz speaking to fill the silence.
“Can’t imagine him being anything but attentive. Cap’s a good man.” Gaz touched your shoulder gently to comfort you. Before you could respond like always your children interrupted.
“He is! Sorry is mums crying again apparently the baby does that to her.” Jj called from the water. Holding up the four rings you had thrown into the pond proudly. You laughed at your sons words choosing ignore the latter comment.
“Good job! Get these ones. They sink all the way down.” You smiled tossing the three shark shaped weights into the water and taking the rings from Jj. There was a sickly silence as you both watched Evelyn swim around singing some Disney song.
“Promise me something, Kyle?” You looked up to him trying to fight the emotion in your eyes.
“Anything ma’am.” Gaz had a stern look as he brought his attention to you.
“Call me by my first name, please.” You added hating being called ‘ma’am’’ it made you feel old.
“That the promise?” The way Gaz said it had you rolling your eyes and trying to keep your wide grin at bay.
“No.” You laughed at the cheekiness. You understood in that moment why John took a shine to Kyle. He was much like you. Kind hearted and used humor as a way to connect.
“Bet you get John’s stern side, with jokes like that.” You waggled your eyebrows and nudged his waist.
“‘Course I do. You too?” Kyle was so wide grinned you could tell he was about to release a chorus of laughter.
“All the time! He’s so serious I’m not quite sure how he puts up with me.” The words came out as laughter. Sharing the warm summer air together as you both gossiped about John.
“So what are you roping me into?” Gaz teasingly pried waiting for this promise you had to ask him.
“Promise, that if he ever gets dragged away again you’ll keep him safe for me. I know he’s suppose to do that for you but. . . Please just think of us here. We’ll always be waiting for him to come home.” The tone shifted to something deadly serious. You professed something you hoped your husband would never be privy to. John would be angry if he knew you asked any of his colleagues for such a thing.
“I promise.” Gaz was quick with his response. His face becoming intensely serious you knew he was a soldier. A soldier who saw war like John had. It was the same look you saw in John’s military head shot. The look he gave you when you said you were in labor. That thousand mile stare that held so much trauma you knew no matter what you were going to be okay.
“Thank you, Kyle.” You whispered and what he said next caught you off guard.
“Thank you, for sharing him.”
—————
“Ghosty, have any 4’s?” Evie asked sitting alone at the kitchen table with Simon. She looked incredibly tiny sitting across from him in her pink t-shirt and jeans.
Evelyn had roped Simon into a card game which had you in a fit of giggles. Simon seemed completely uninterested being in a conversation with your husband. Once the six year old tugged at his arm hard enough he was allowing her to lead him anywhere. John tried to scold her but Ghost said it was not necessary and he would finally give back that hat if she won. You told her she better win since you had lost John’s hat to Ghost in the same game.
“Go fish.” Ghost grunted. Nodding at you in thanks as you handed him a plate of cherry pie.
“Well, now I know you don’t have fours.” She said rather sarcastically as she laid down a pair of fours. It was the end of the game leaving this next turn as the final one. Only one card in Ghosts hand and the other in Evelyns.
“Have any kings?” Evelyn asked eliciting a quick annoyed groan. Ghost placed the king down and glared at the six year old. She had done something you were incapable of doing.
“You win.” Ghosted grunted, his chair scraping against the tiled floor as he stood.
Simon tried to walk away but Evelyn threw herself over the table to catch him by the sleeve. Some of the cards falling to the floor in her haste. Ghost was so annoyed he did not realize she was attached to his arm until he had pulled here clear across the table. The cards shuffling to the floor and Evie with wide eyes being dragged against the table top.
“Give my daddies hat back!” Evelyn held on to his sleeve. You were biting your lip trying not to laugh as you placed tea down on the kitchen table. Evelyn’s feet were kicking and Ghost stared down at her as she lay on the kitchen table grasping his sweatshirt sleeve for dear life.
“John, your daughter?” Ghost glanced up at his Captain. John was leaning against the kitchen counter chatting with Gaz and Soap. Looking over with a blank expression John took in the sight of Ghost in his jet black hoodie and his daughter gripping the sleeve tightly as she stared at John. This was nothing out of the ordinary for the Price children so John shrugged it off. This was also John’s little pay back for Ghost holding onto that hat for so long.
“She needs the hat. Nothing else to say mate.” John turned back to his conversation picking up right where he left off.
“Let go.” You whispered to Evelyn who then insisted she needed the hat back at this exact moment. You had to explain that Ghost did not have it on him which resulted in a big pout. The hat was forgotten quickly as Evelyn dug into one of the brownies you made then proceeded to fall asleep on the couch with chocolate all over her face. John carried her up to bed and then helped Jj settle in for the night while you played cards with everyone downstairs. The boys were not joking around playing against you in poker this time.
—————
“So, Kate.” You asked. Lips pressed against a glass of your favorite juice.
“Y/N.” Laswell was sitting with you on the soft couch in your living room. The kids were now asleep and John was out back getting drunk with the boys. Ghost of all people pushed to take shots which now Soap was pushing for more. It made you smile hearing someone beside your husband being called Johnny.
“How’d you get John to let you all come over? Been asking for years and it took one phone call from you.” You wanted to know the answer. Hoping to find the formula to being more involved in John’s work relationships.
“Well, I asked if you really wanted everyone over. . . And he said yes pretty confidently.” Kate waved her hand and then grinned.
“And?” You asked, leaning forward.
“Well, I told him. . . ‘Why not make her happy.’ And that seemed to be enough of a reason.”
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luveline · 3 months
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Hi, I’ve never sent a request before so forgive me if this sounds weird I’m still learning how to use Tumblr lol but what if Eddie and reader go to Roan’s school for parent-teacher conference and her teacher shows them something Roan wrote or made expressing how much she loves her new mom and her new little family🩷 and reader cries from how happy and loved Roan and Eddie make her feel🥹
ty for ur request, it doesn't sound weird at all! eddie and roan —you and eddie attend roan's PT conference, stepmother!reader, 1.2k
You hide from the biting winter wind in Eddie's side. “Is it supposed to be this cold?” you ask. 
“You sound surprised. It's December,” he says, though he puts his arm over your shoulders to cover as much of you as he can. “I told you to wear a coat.” 
“The coat ruins my outfit,” you say. 
“You being cold ruins the outfit.” He nods towards the step up into the school building. “You could say the outfit ruins what's underneath–” 
“What's wrong with you?”  
“An appreciation for my wife?” 
“Stop saying that, you're confusing people. Steve asked me last night if we got married in private–” 
“You're always talking to Steve,” Eddie complains, “he doesn't even call me anymore, he just wants to talk to you.” 
He'd called to ask if he was still babysitting, actually, but Eddie wouldn't know that because he and Roan had been playing monsters at the time, speaking to each other in gruff tones while they made sandwiches for dinner. 
“You have a problem.” 
Eddie can't decide whether to bicker or dote, squeezing you tightly, a promise about new problems lost to the growing ruckus of the elementary school after hours. Some parents have brought their children, but the majority stand chatting in lines to see the teachers. You and Eddie have come through the main entrance of the building rather than the side door where Roan enters, and the walk to Mrs. Lundy's room is longer than usual, though far from unpleasant. Light shines through the windows where a rainbow of creatures have been painted, leaving glowing shapes of apricot, cerulean, and lilac on your skin as you pass. 
“You're like a Christmas tree,” Eddie says. 
“I just need some tinsel.” You point at the decorations hanging from Mrs. Lundy's doorway. “Like that.” 
“You want some tinsel? I'll get you some tinsel, baby, just give me a minute. And maybe distract her.” 
You refuse to help him steal from Mrs. Lundy, and spend your time in line waiting with his hands held firmly in yours to prohibit any theft. Eddie moans about being jailed but is otherwise content. He quite likes it, actually, rearranging your fingers to stroke your knuckles. 
Mrs. Lundy is smiling, happy to see you and brag about your girl. She starts with Roan's general education, her behaviour, her grades, though this young she doesn't have grades so much as milestones. Roan is smart but no wizz kid (not that you care), she's kind (but not always good at sharing), she's loud, and rambunctious, a great artist, and she's very, very happy. 
“She talks about your wedding all the time. Every day. She tells us she's going to be the flower girl, and the best man, and that she has a beautiful dress.” Mrs. Lundy beams. “She's walking on sunshine.” The teacher's smile turns soft, almost wistful. “Well, she's Roan. You know what she's like better than I do.” 
Your cheeks ache with pride. 
“She's a good kid,” Eddie says. 
“Yes!” Mrs. Lundy reaches across the desk for a turquoise-coloured folder. “There was actually something I wanted to share with you both… You know we have creative writing assignments, and obviously we help them with making real sentences, but what she has to say is very much of her own volition.” 
Mrs. Lundy pulls a sheet of paper from the folder and puts it down in front of your hands. “The prompt was what makes you happy,” she says. 
The first sentence is simple. 
My mommy. 
A drawing of you decorates the page above the lines, so clearly you, your smile wide and pink. 
My mommy is kind and I love her. Dad sayd the wedding is speshul becase he loves her, but she will be my mom. She makes me so happy. Mommy says she loves me all of the time, and she brushus my hair. My best part of the day is when Y/N comes home and hugs me. We are so happy, and Lucky gets dinner. I love my dad too, and Uncle Wayn. 
Her spelling errors have been corrected in green pen, and her backwards letters are written forwards for her to copy. You read the entire paragraph in a blur, thinking about how long it must've taken her to get it all down, nearly an entire page in her bubbly handwriting, big letters running off of the page. 
“Needless to say,” Mrs. Lundy says, “that most children write about their families, or their pets, or their toys. But Roan was extremely focused on the word love. She's clearly going home to a loving home every night.” Mrs. Lundy smiles at Eddie. You nearly miss it, reading the paragraph again, and then a third time. 
“Can I take this?” you ask, clearing your throat, tears brewed and bobbing on your waterline, desperate to be shed. “Is that okay?” 
Eddie laughs and elbows you in the arm. “Come on, it's hardly news.” 
You wipe your eyes before you can cry in front of them both. “I'm sorry, just– can I?” 
Mrs. Lundy beams again, emphasising the well-worn smile lines at the corners of her lips and creasing beside her eyes. 
You hold it together well for a little while. Eddie talks over your wobbly silence, a hand on your shoulder, assuring Mrs. Lundy that you're all, in fact, very happy, and he's just glad that Roan is being a good student and friend to her classmates. Mrs. Lundy's kindness and Roan's love letter to you has knocked you entirely off kilter, and you're crying before you've reached the car. They're happy tears. 
“Come on,” Eddie says, taking the paper you've folded carefully from your fingers as they clench. “She's said nicer to you in person.” 
And sure she has. Roan loves hitting you with the saccharine when you're not expecting it. Drying her hair after bath time, totally distracted, she'll kiss your cheek and say, “You're so pretty.” She sprinkles I love you's wherever they'll fit like her dad does, and she shows it with little gifts and cuddles and invitations. Y/N, do you want to have a fashion show with me? Y/N, can we have ice cream in bed? Can I do your hair, please, mommy? 
“It's different. It's different,” you insist, scrambling to find the words. “She's…” You rub your eyes. Your makeup is smudging, but you can't help it. “I don't even know what to say.” 
Eddie shrugs. Lean shoulders, a loving arm behind your back, the car in sight but getting no closer, he comforts you in the middle of the parking lot while the passing headlights kiss your shoes. “You know how much she loves you, babe. This is a good thing, right? You're not upset?” 
“Not upset,” you clarify. 
“Okay, good. Is this a bad time for me to say that I am profoundly jealous right now? I used to get all the drawings and cards, I used to get Mother's day gifts. I have a mother's day card up in the attic… might have to get it out,” —he kisses your cheek— “just to cope.” 
You laugh through a sniffle. “Let's go get it,” you say. 
He presses Roan's assignment back into your hand. “You can keep that one, but don't get it out around me. I'm serious.” 
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eyesxxyou · 3 months
Text
❝ nude bodies ❞ (artist!hobie x trans ftm!reader)
。゚・ ¡ content. friends to lovers, a little bit of awkwardness, oral (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), reader has a t-dick, very sweet sex (bordering on love making), creampie, hobie gets a little sappy at the end. you've been long time best friends with hobie for years, both secretly pining after each other. you both think nothing will ever come of your feelings until hobie asks to draw you nude.
wc: 5k
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The sun was hot on your face. The rough sound of pencil meeting paper tickled your ears. Hobie hummed a soft tune while his hand carved out the rough shapes of your face into paper. His eyes kept flicking from his sketchbook to you, his gaze lingering on your closed eyes before wandering a little lower to trace the shape of your honeydew lips.
He reached out, his hand tenderly caressing the side of your face to get you to turn your head to the slightest degree so that the sun hit your face at just the right angle to make you glow honey gold. He touched you like a masterpiece, one of the old greats, like you would crumble if pressed too hard. His thumb traced your lip and you shivered ever so slightly.
“Have ya ever though’ of letting me draw ya nude?” Hobie had a way of saying things. Careless or carefree, you chose because he doesn't have the energy to do it himself, too busy drawing or playing the guitar.
You open your eyes, a deep frown painting itself across your honeydew lips. “You want to draw me what?” You sat up on your arms and Hobie sat up with you on his knees, his hand on your chest to push you back down onto the smooth wood of his deck. “Nude. Was I no’ loud enough? Keep still, dove. ‘m no’ done.”
You sigh and relent, laying back in the sun with your head tilted towards him to catch the golden rays. Hobie settled back down beside you and began sketching again.
You won't say Hobie didn't rattle something within you. Nude was intimate, nude meant vulnerable, nude meant served on a platter with all your feelings splayed out so brazenly before him. You couldn't hide anything from him while naked, couldn't hide how every gentle touch of his warm fingertips made your heart leap and your groin ache with feelings you’re forced to call want. You couldn't hide from his wandering gaze powdered with the stark neutrality of someone who didn't care either way.
“Why would you want to draw me naked?” You try not to move too much while you talk, try not to make a big deal out of his request. Why would he want to draw your body? Your body didn't look like everyone else's, the crescent-shaped twin scars cupping your chest made sure of that. Not to mention all the changes gone on between your legs. You’re not the most ideal person in the world to draw nude according to every societal standard.
But Hobie wasn't one to care about a social standard. “Why wouldn' I? I draw ya all the time. Yer my lovely lil muse.” He touched his pencil behind his ear and set his sketchbook down closed beside him. He shifted himself, laid down right beside you with his head propped up on his hand, looking down on you as you lay below him.
Hobie reached out and pinched your cheek. “Jus’ think ‘bout i’. No pressure. I wan’cha to be comfortable with the idea.” He lied down completely beside you, just the two of you lying on the deck of his boat, shirtless, arms touching all the way from shoulder down to the backs of your hands. You could grab his hand if you wanted to. He could grab yours. Your finger twitches with the idea of it. But that's not what friends do.
“What would happen if I agreed?” You asked timidly. Hobie turned his head, eyes carefully tracing the lines of your side profile. “We’d wait a week before we did anythin’. Jus’ in case you became a chicken and wan’ed to back ou’.” He teased as he always did and that set you at ease as you turned your head to meet his gaze.
His deep-set eyes traced the contours of your face with dedication and admiration. If you hadn't known any better you might have said he did it lovingly. But he was an artist at the end of the day and your best friend. Any love he had beyond a platonic one was for what you do for his art. “You bring it to life.” He once said. He did not love you the way you loved him. You were sure of it.
“Lemme finish this piece then we can grab a bite, yeah?” Hobie sat up and placed his hand on your chest, patting you the way a friend pats another in the back. He doesn't let his touch linger even though every atom of your body begged and pleaded for him to just touch you, touch you anywhere, you didn't care where. Just let it stay there, let it linger a little longer, let it hold so you might know that he's real and he’s yours.
You consider it while he draws with your eyes closed and your hands resting on your belly, tracing imaginary lines and imagining it’s Hobie doing it with the tips of his nimble fingers. He wouldn't make it weird, wouldn't tease you about it for the rest of your lives, wouldn't embarrass you by telling others. That's not how he is. It would just be between the two of you, from one man to another.
Hobie sits beside you in silence, hoping he didn't ruin anything you two had, the soft progress you have made with each other years in the making. He’s been dropping hints for years now, the obvious ones only made in the last few months. Unnecessary lingering touches, brushing his hand against yours to give you the opportunity to grab on and stay that way. He holds your face so softly so fucks sake, leans in so close he might just kiss you but leaves it to you to make the final move. You never do. He called you his muse, told you his art is nothing without you and yet you still look at him with that blank, oblivious look in your eyes that makes him want to tell you straight up that he’s in love with you. You’d probably still tilt your head like a puppy, confused and unknowing.
His eyes lavish over your body, every piece of exposed skin being feasted upon by his greedy gaze. Your eyes are closed, you’d never know. He wants to trace his fingers along your scars, kiss them, kiss you, feel your skin on his and know you a little more than he already does.
“I’ll do it.” You concede. “You can’t show it to anyone though. I’d die of humiliation.”
“Never planned to, dove.” Hobie smiled. “It’ll just be between me ‘n you. It’s just anatomy practice.” Anatomy practice sounded good, sounded reasonable, sounded like he wasn't just trying to find any excuse to witness you naked. Did it make him sick, perverted, what he’d end up doing with that drawing as he did with nearly all his other drawings of you? Did it make him bad that he’d end up with his hand firmly wrapped around his cock, pleading for a single moment, a single chance? Did it make him wrong that he’d ruin the page with cum and would have to redraw it all over again?
You remind him, “I don't have regular anatomy.”
“I don't need regular, dove.” Hobie looks up from his sketchbook, flipping his pencil to erase a small imperfection in his work. “I just need you.”
-
Hobie gave you a week. An entire week to reconsider and yet you remained steadfast in your decision. It wouldn't be weird. Hobie has a way of making awkward situations completely comfortable with his light-heartedness. He never took anything seriously so why should you?
Boarding his boat meant accepting wholly that you’d be naked in front of him and a part of you, while nervous, was comfortable with that. If you were to be naked in front of anyone in the entire world, you’d want it to be your best friend, the person you trust most in this world.
Hobie was waiting for you inside, guitar in lap while strumming some cords to a melody he was humming. You kicked your shoes off at the door and let it slam shut behind you as if it were sealing you in. You can't back out now. You had promised.
Hobie put his guitar down on it’s display rack and tossed the pick into a small box of picks he had sitting on a small table beside his bed. “Mr. Punctuality ova here. I wasn' expectin’ ya fo’ anotha hour.” He hopped down from the ledge he was sitting on, stumbling a bit but ultimately landing on his feet. He came over and tossed an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his body for a half-hearted hug.
“You told me to come at 1.”
“But when I say tha’ I really mean 2. You know ion run on other people's time.” He offered a cheeky little dimpled smile across those dark lips of his that you adored more than you could ever say. He rubbed your shoulder a little before patting it and letting you go. You wanted to run back to him, to tell him to embrace you once more but fully this time. You didn't want to embarrass yourself by doing so.
“Are ya sure ya do this?” He offered you one last chance to back out before the two of you started. “We can always stop if ya feel uncomfortable,” he assured you.
You nodded slowly, lips curling into a soft, self-assuring smile. “I’m okay. Let’s do this.” Your heart beat so hard in your chest you could feel it in your throat and hear it in your ears. You balled your hands into fists, thumbs in your palms, squeezing with anxiety. You trusted him, knew he would do nothing to make you feel uncomfortable.
“I’ll be back in a momen’, you can get on the bed when you’re ready.” Hobie went to leave to afford you some privacy. You appreciated his thoughtfulness and watched him go with a shaky breath. You wrung your hands, grasping the hem of your shirt to sooth yourself before you began.
You started with your shirt, pulling it over your head and folding it up neatly before placing it on the edge of Hobie’s bed. That was soon followed by your pants, then your underwear. You’re not used to being naked, especially not in Hobie’s boathouse. You felt vulnerable, your hands immediately went to cup your love and cover yourself without so much as a second thought.
You climbed up onto Hobie’s bed and covered yourself with his duvet, waiting for him to return so that you can get this over with. You tell yourself it’s for anatomy practice, that it’s nothing more than that. But there’s something oddly intimate about being wrapped up in his planets, lying in his bed with his deep, musky scent permeating your senses and soothing your raging nerves.
You lay there with your face pressed into his pillow awaiting Hobie’s return. Your fingers gripped his sheets, twisting and fingering the fabric anxiously as you watch the door crack open and Hobie’s head poke inside to ensure you’re properly prepared. He saw you curled up in his bed and smiled with a tender softness. “You ready?”
You nodded, nipping at your bottom lip. Hobie came shuffling in, closing the door behind himself gently. He rummaged about his flat, grabbing his sketchbook and a sharpened pencil before coming over to you in his bed.
Hobie climbed in with you, shuffling over to kneel beside your covered body. He set his sketchbook down and carefully reached out to grasp the edge of the blanket you had covered your modesty up with. “May I?” His eyes were soft looking upon you, they ask for permission too, ask for you to let your guard down for just a moment. They ask for you to trust him
You do. You trust him wholeheartedly. With your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you nod subtly and let go of the blanket. You let him peel it away from you but your hands return between your legs to keep yourself covered.
“Jus' relax f’me, dove.” His slender fingers grasped your wrists, carefully and gently pulling them away from your tender lips. You don't resist him, you let him take your hands in his and remove them from the spot where you find yourself feeling the most vulnerable. There's something about his touches that feels more intimate than before. Your nudity amplified every caress of his hand against your skin. You could feel it linger throughout your body.
Hobie gazed at you, his eyes scanning down the length of your trembling body, hitching at your chest and groin for just a lingering moment. You don’t hear the way he murmurs soft prayers under his breath, a plea for strength, for the worthiness to admire such a sacred body in its most bare state.
Starting the sketch was the hardest part. Hobie was used to touching you, holding your face, dragging a finger along the curve of your jaw, his fingertips kissing your eyelids, tracing the underside of your lips. He was a physical learner and with time, he knew your face like he knew his own palm, all the lines and shadows that made it up.
But he didn’t know your body. Not the way he wanted to.
You could see the frustration crossing his face as he turned his pencil and erased his work for the second time, “Is there anything I can do to help?” Your voice was timid and beautiful, ringing with an air of genuine concern. You hadn’t expected Hobie to ask to touch you.
“F’r visual purposes only. I don’ – know ya body yet. No’ like I know ya face.” His hands wrung against his lap, refraining from making himself too comfortable with your pretty body. He imagined your skin would be soft beneath his palms, supple as he dipped his graphite-covered fingers into your flesh. “You don’t have’ta.”
“You can.” You say almost too quickly. Did he catch the desperation in your voice? Did he catch the way you leaned in just a little further, the way you crossed your legs at the mere thought of his hands stroking down the length of your bare skin. Had you given yourself away? Had you shown all of your cards like an amateur?
You watched Hobie place his things down and come over to climb back onto the bed with you. You sat up and let out a startled little gasp. Hobie was suddenly closer than you had expected, sitting beside you with his hands on either side of your legs to prop himself up.
“Jus’ tell me when t’stop, yeah?”
He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t help but to touch. Hobie started at your face, the familiarity of it offering you ease and comfort. His hand cupped your cheek. Brushing a soft thumb under your eyes, palm cupping along your jaw and his thumb moving up slightly to skim over your soft eyelid. The pads of his fingers move to your lips, tracing them left to right, right to left. His eyes flick between your lips and your coy gaze, too shy to fully meet his every time he looks at you.
His other hand skimmed at your waist. His fingertips touching at your chest, tracing your scars with such loving care. Hobie likes the way you shiver under his touch, likes the way your body rolls as he makes his way lower to your belly where your happy trail begins, leading lower and lower. He doesn’t go all the way though you so desperately wished he would.
His hand touches your thigh, the other trailing down your shoulder, to your elbow, to your hand where his fingers slip beneath yours. Before you know it, your fingers are laced with his. There was something so innocent about it, something so beautiful and soft. His hand on your thigh, tracing circles into your flesh felt just as innocent in the beginning. But his fingers were trailing .along your inner thigh, gripping the flesh there with something far darker that anything platonic.
It was hard not to melt into his touch, a touch so hot that it left your skin burning where he met it. Your chest burned with desire. Your gaze, a little more brazen now, showed as much. You swallowed thickly as you caught Hobie’s gaze and suddenly you were doing just the same as him, staring at that lip piercing that glinted under the dim lighting of his bedroom.
It was the same thought that crossed your minds.
“Can I kiss ya?”
“For your drawing, right?”
Hobie nodded slowly, leaning in with a subtle tilt of his head. His lips hovered slightly over yours, not exactly kissing you but not, not kissing you either. “Yeah…for the drawin’.” He whispered against your lips, taking them with his. He kissed you like he’s been waiting for this moment since he’s known you. Kissed you like he needed this, kiss you in a way that said “if you stop, I’ll die.”
He can't help the way his hands wander, touching you in places he'd never even dreamt of touching in the first place as his hands grow more greedy. His hands trail everywhere, feeling your skin grow warm under his touch as he commits every brush of skin against skin.
You could feel a heat pool between your legs, your pussy ached and your dick throbbed to attention with each inch gained by Hobie’s fingers closer to your wanton core. You spread your legs for him, silent permission for him to touch where he pleased and where you craved.
Hobie did not touch you there, not yet. His hand held your waist and his lips began to trace a trail down the side of your neck, placing sloppy, open mouth kisses on your exposed flesh leading down to your chest. He peppered kisses along the crescents of your scars, worshiping exactly where they cut into you and made you a little more of who you are.
His lips pressed kisses down your naval. His hand gripped yours tighter. “Lay back, luv.” His free hand pushed you back gently, coaching you to lie in the mess of pillows stained with his scent. Hobie held your smaller hand, pressing it into the mattress, his free hand still roaming and touching and studying your warm body.
How could he possibly go back to pencil and paper after this? His drawings could never satisfy him now that he’s gotten a taste of the real thing. His art was meaningless now, served no purpose now that your flesh was beneath his tongue, in his hands, gripping, touching, loving.
He’s come on your face a thousand times over in his mind, on his page. But he could not bear the idea of sullying your sacred body with such degeneracy. Hobie would only touch, only please. He would come last.
He settled himself between your legs, his hand parting them a little further until your pretty, wet lips parted with a nice, creamy sound. You turned your head away, embarrassed but Hobie found it quite lovely. You are hard and wet for him, your sweet, little cock firm behind the hood.
Hobie kissed your pelvis just above your t-dick, ending his journey to where you desired him the most. He glanced up at you and found your eyes cast away with what could only read as humiliation.
“C’mon, dove, look a’ me.” He kissed the tip of your dick and smiled as you shuddered with something of a pathetic moan. You willed yourself to look at him with timid eyes. Hobie kissed your tip again, his fingers pulling back your hood to give him more space to work. His tongue licked firm strokes between your soaked lips all the way up to your pretty cock which he licks then takes into his mouth.
He sucked on the engorged bundle of nerves, swollen and sensitive on his tongue. Hobie worships the way you cry a little, your back arching from the sheets, his tongue stroking lick after lick against the tip, each one sending jolts of pleasure throughout your heated body.
You placed one of your hands on the back of his head, not applying pressure but to give him a few encouraging scratches to his scalp. “Just like that, keep going.” Your body shows all its cards and you couldn't care in the slightest. Breathless moans and soft whimpers keep him going, keeps him sucking your pretty dick with his tongue occasionally lapping at your sweet little hole.
Hobie used his fingers to stroke between your pussy lips where you ached the most. It was easy to ease a finger in with how utterly soaked you were and with a few slow pumps, the second finger was not too far behind.
He took his time with you, unraveling you like a gift splayed out before him. He could rush, he could take what he needed but he wanted this to be slow, intimate. He needed to tell you just how much he worshiped his body of yours, how much he valued every piece of flesh you offered up to him. He needed to study you, inside and out.
Your hushed moans were beautiful and the whines the broke out between them were just the same. “My lil’ muse.” He hummed against your cock, kissing it and the flesh around it in an act of praise. His fingers worked in and out of you, curled in search of that gummy little ridge that would send you into orbit and make this all the better for you.
He knew he found it when you let out a nice, little, high-pitched moan and your whole body lept. Hobie chuckled softly, much to your dismay and rubbed you at your sweet spot right where you needed him.
“Why– fuck~ why are you always…so mean. L-laughing at me ‘n all.” You pant out, hips bucking against his soaked fingers, all your pretty, little parts rubbing against his knuckles.
“On the contrary, I think ‘m bein’ rather nice, don' you?” He kissed your belly, slowly making his way back up your body to find your lips again. “I only wanna be sweet wit’cha, luv.” His lips pecked yours once, twice, before he kissed you fully again. His fingers thrust into you, his thumb playing with your dick to keep you nice and stimulated. “You don't think ‘m bein’ sweet?”
You shook your head and he pressed his fingers into your sweet spot to make you gasp. “I-I think you’re the meanest person I know, Hobes.” You wrapped an arm around his neck to pull him in, your lips still stealing kisses from one another. “I think you’re mean peck ‘cause peck it’s your fingers inside me and not peck you.”
“I can change tha’. I can be so nice t’ya.”
You’re lucky he’s in his pajamas and not his entire getup. It’s easy to get him to pull himself out of his pants enough to reveal his length to you. He’s thick and long, nothing to make a passing statement at. He slips his fingers from your eager cunt and uses them to drag along the tip of his cock, spreading it down his length with a few sloppy strokes against his palm.
Hobie pulled you closer. You settled back against his pillows, whining a little when Hobie pulled his hand away from yours to brace himself against you. You toss your arms over his shoulders and around his neck. Your gaze is a bit more confident looking into his and Hobie kisses you softly.
You're dripping, trembling as he drags the tip of his thick cock between your soaked lips. He teased you, pressing the tip into your sopping entrance before pulling away. It coats him, your wetness, making it easier for him to slowly inch his way inside. He stretches you slowly and your nails sink into his back. You bury your face into his neck, muffling your moans.
His hands caress your body, holding you tight as if he craved that same warmth from you as well. His hips pressed flush against yours, his cock buried deep within you. He lets you adjust while he familiarizes himself with your tight cavern. Your walls hug him, imprinting every vein, every groove of him. Soft and welcoming like you've been waiting to invite him in since forever.
You two stare at each other, the warmth of one’s breath breezing over the other's supple skin. "Move." You encourage, nudging your nose against his. His hands tightened on your waist as he pulled his hips back until only the tip remained inside before surging them forward. He liked being soft with you, liked touching you like you were one of his drawings, like you would smudge if he pressed too hard.
You didn't mind slow or careful. It made you feel all that more special, like you were worth taking up that time where he could be doing other things. He kept his strokes paced, gentle. The soft slapping of skin mingles with your moans that fill the room.
"Hobie~" You claw at his back, leaving your mark on him in bright red lines that cover his skin. His cock filled you to the brim, pressing every point of pleasure along the way to his tip kissing your cervix. Hobie’s size was nothing to laugh at. He touched places never before discovered, his hips rutting into yours in firm, paced strokes.
He pressed his against the side of your head. Your shampoo was nice, lavender and vanilla he supposed. Hobie made a mental note to write that down in his sketchbook with all his other notes about you.
Hobie smelled like subtle cologne and natural musk. It's comforting, not overwhelming or violently invading your nose. You kiss his neck, along his sharp jaw, and over his prominent Adams Apple. Your teeth nip softly over his supple flesh, easily able to leave hickeys on his skin, smooth as paper.
Your moans are like music to his ears. High-pitched and uneven. With each thrust, he's rewarded with such a beautiful sound. You chew on your bottom lip in attempt to contain them but he doesn't like it. "Uh-uh, I wanna hear you. Don't deny me such a beautiful sound." He reaches up and pulls your lip from your teeth with his own. A spark.
Hobie took your hand with his much larger one and laced your fingers with his like before. He pinned your hand to the bed, rubbing off graphite onto your skin, his mark on you, his love on you. “Am I nice enough now?”
You nod, “so nice~”. You sighed out, pulling him in and tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “So good.” You murmured against his skin, sucking on that piece of flesh to calm yourself. His strokes were deep, solid, unquestionable in his dedication to his craft.
He kisses your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, then your lips, a innocent little kiss that belies the way he’s fucking you right now, his pelvis rubbing your dick with every roll of his hips.
His hand touches the side of your face, skimming it, holding it, worshiping it as if he were drawing. Your eyes fluttered softly, your lips parted to let out a shaky breath and your eyes admire him the way he admires you, like an artist looking at its masterpiece.
Hobie’s hand trails down the length of your body and reaches between your bodies to touch your dick. He strokes it between his fingers, smirking at the way you cry into the bend of his neck and take the time to bite. You sink your teeth into smooth muscle, tongue lavishing over smoother skin. You’ll undoubtedly lean your mark and he wouldn't have it any other way.
You were so sweet too, so sweet to tell him before you came in short, fast pants. You begged in soft “please”s for him to keep going. “Jus’ like that.” Your legs hooked over his slender hips to keep him in close.
Your mind went hazy with the rush of your climax, your body tensed and rolled with the waves of it. That pretty pussy of your clamped down around Hobie’s full cock, stroking him in beautiful subtly pulses that coaxed him towards his own orgasm.
“Ya wan’ me to cum wit’cha, pretty boy?”
You nod and whine, nails sinking into the back of his neck. Your legs tuck in and pull his hips closer and oh those silky walls of your milked him so nice and thoroughly he couldn't help but to cum.
Hobie didn't mean to cum inside, didn't mean to sully your body with his spunk. He didn't want to ruin you, ruin the temple of your body but God, he couldn't help it and you weren't letting him move.
And oh, he didn't mean to get so sappy, didn't mean to lift your intertwined hands and kiss the back of yours as he came deep inside, hot cum rushing to fill you to the brim. He sighed with pleasure and contentment and looked you in the eyes. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, luv. My lil’ muse.”
He rolled over with you still holding on to him, slipping from his little sanctuary between your legs with a wet pop. He readjusted himself, made himself decent before kissing you on the head.
God, what would this mean for your friendship? Would this become a regular thing? Did this make you something more. You were too afraid to say anything in fear of ruining the quiet serenity of the moment.
“You got what you need for your drawing?” You ask innocently, as if he did all of this for some damn drawing. Hobie scoffed against your scalp and pulled away to look at you. “Yeah, but ‘m no’ in the mood to draw anymore. Jus’ lemme hold’ja, yeah, dove?”
You could let him do that.
416 notes · View notes
makeyoumine69 · 3 months
Text
My Dear Little Girl
PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader
SUMMARY: The Christmas gift you never imagined.
CONTAINS: Smut, fluff, unprotected sex (p in v), creampie, oral sex (f), tongue fucking, nipple play/sucking, body worship, praise kink, manhandling, dirty talk, pet names, marking, biting, established relationships, Service!Dom!Patrick Bateman himself.
WORDS: 3.3k
SONG REC: The Neighbourhood - Softcore
A/N: Merry Christmas guys, I'm so happy to have you all! 💞
LINKS: [MASTERLIST]
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There has always been something magical about Christmas, the holiday atmosphere, the sweet smell of tangerines and the clinking of champagne glasses. Yes, all of this became a standard set of things that people thought of when it came to Christmas. And you were probably one of those who believed in miracles that could happen during this magical time. At least you tried to believe it, but when Bateman told you that he had to go to his company Christmas party tonight, that actually brought you back down to Earth, because sometimes our expectations simply didn't match up with reality. And that was absolutely fine — those were the exact words you told Patrick when he called you a few hours ago, before he actually went to that party. 
Everything was fine.
You repeated this over and over again as you walked around your apartment in Manhattan, which was not as spacious as Bateman's, but you really loved it, especially now, with the beautiful Christmas tree that shone brightly with different illuminations when you turned off the lights. Since you knew Patrick wasn't coming, there was no point in waiting to open the bottle of the finest red wine he'd given you especially for this Christmas Eve. Sighing, you poured yourself a big glass of the red liquid, took some sweets and went back to your living room, where you stood at the wide window and looked at the breathtaking scenery of New York City in winter — this year it was quite snowy, which could not make you happy, even though you were going to spend this evening alone.
As the fireworks began to paint the midnight sky in ornaments of different shapes and colors, you couldn't take your eyes off this sight, as you were absolutely mesmerized. At first, you didn't even hear the doorbell ring, and only when it rang for the tenth time in a row did you realize that someone was at your front door, which actually scared you a bit because it was already quite late.
Your steady footsteps echoed off the walls of your hallway as you finally reached the door and looked through the peephole - the person you saw almost made you drop your glass to the floor. Damn, you should have left it in the living room.
Before you slowly opened the door, you coughed several times to clear your throat, and you also quickly fixed your hair — although your whole appearance could hardly be called fancy or party-like, as you wore your casual top and shorts set — the moment you and Bateman saw each other, you both remained silent, as if you were seeing each other for the first time.
"Well, hello (y/n)," he was the first to speak, with his absolutely haughty smile that always left you no choice but to be embarrassed. "I thought you were out walking somewhere."
"At this time?"
Patrick grinned even wider before glancing to the right, where a small commotion could be heard. "Some people here are already celebrating, you know."
Rolling your eyes, you stepped aside to let him enter. "What happened to the Christmas party?"
Your question made the man chuckle as he brushed some snow from his shoulders before taking off his beautiful dark blue coat. "Actually — nothing."
"Nothing?"
"That's exactly what I said." Patrick crooned and came closer to you, pressing his cold palm against your cheek, making you squirm and almost spilling wine on your shirt. "Uhh, you have such warm cheeks, honey."
"Okay, I'll ask it another way," you managed to regain your composure, even though Bateman seemed to be doing his best to make you lose your cool. "Why are you here?"
Pulling his hand away from your face, Bateman narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms after checking the time on his Rolex. "Were you expecting someone else?" 
And now his voice sounded as grumpy as if he was seriously asking that question, but instead of defending yourself, you just chuckled and took a sip of your drink.
"Oh yes, I was expecting a handsome man so we could drink this wonderful wine and... talk about music, the meaning of life and whether or not true love exists." You chirped quickly before taking his hand and dragging him into your living room before this conversation could lose its jokey undertone.
"That was," Bateman stammered when he finally realized what drink you were holding. "That was very smart. Have you ever thought of applying to a Broadway theater? I think they would love to offer you a job." His statement made you stop and turn to give him a deadly stare. "What? If you don't like theater, you can always try your luck in the circus."
"Patrick!" You scolded, fighting the urge to throw your drink right in his cheeky face. "You were the one who told me I would be alone today! And you didn't even suggest that I go with you!"
Having said that, you continued on your way to the living room, but without holding Patrick's hand as you left the man behind, though his expression was still as bright as the New York sky inscribed with fireworks. "Wait a minute, honey," Bateman muttered, following you. "You made it pretty clear that you don't want to go to parties like that, didn't you?"
"No, I didn't," you lied, bursting into a soft laugh, swirling the glass in your hand. "Oh, this wine tastes amazing, by the way. Would you like to try some?"
The sudden change of subject just made him smile cheekily, and before he could answer, Bateman tucked his hands into the pockets of his Amrani pants and leaned against the door to your living room. "I know this wine is good, that's why I gave it to you, sweetheart," his brilliant, full-toothed smile made your heartbeat faster and for a moment you even forgot what you were doing. "But yes, I would definitely have a drink."
"Whatever you say, Mr. Grinch." You mumbled playfully and went to the kitchen.
Fireworks began to explode just as you opened the shelf to grab a glass for him, thanking God you managed to hold it in your hand. The loud sound coming from the outside drowned out the approaching footsteps behind you, so when a pair of strong, big arms wrapped around your waist, you didn't even have time to get scared, you just gasped and fell right into Patrick's tight embrace.
"I got you," he whispered in your ear, sucking on your lobe tenderly, but with an undisguised desire for something more intimate. "You little liar." Bateman pulled you closer with a possessive grip as his hand carefully found its way to yours to take the glass and place it on the smooth surface of the kitchen counter. "We don't want any trouble, do we?"
Panting, you turned halfway to look up into his brown, mesmerizing eyes. "Patrick," you let him nuzzle your cheek, his perfect nose brushing against yours, and then Bateman kissed you softly on your plump lips. "Mmhm, I'm so glad you came, I've missed you and —"
"Shhh," he silenced you with his thumb, his glowing gaze never leaving your beautiful face. "I know, darling," another sensual kiss was planted on your neck this time, eliciting a muffled moan from your half-open mouth. "You don't have to say anything else, just relax..." Patrick nipped at your throat more eagerly, leaving marks here and there, while his hands drew invisible ornaments all along your inviting little form. "...and let me take care of you."
Dear Lord, it was impossible to think clearly, not when he was talking to you like that and his hot lips were caressing that exact spot behind your ear, driving you absolutely crazy and you didn't even notice the way your hips were grinding against his hard groin, spurring him on to go even further. Groaning softly into your ear, Bateman couldn't wait any longer, his pants getting too tight with every brush of your ass against his throbbing length. 
"Fuck, babe, you're so gorgeous," he purred in a low voice, leaving a trail of wet kisses along your shoulder, then moving lower to your shoulder blade, pulling up your top to taste your skin. "Do you know what I was thinking about during the party?" Bateman asked suddenly, tugging at the lace of your shorts, tantalizing you with his intentions. 
"N-no, tell me," you closed your eyes from the intoxicating pleasure of his thin fingers darting across your belly, but when they finally reached your heated core, you couldn't keep a loud whimper from breaking out of your dry lips. "Please, a-ahhh, tell me everything."
"Uh, look at you," he quickly licked the back of your neck before grabbing a handful of your soaked pussy. "Such a curious little kitty," Patrick huffed, suddenly pulling down your shorts with your wet panties, leaving you no chance to even react, not to mention struggling. "I was thinking about you," Bateman carefully lifted one of your legs to rest it on the kitchen counter, then crouched down behind you, leaving a sloppy kiss on your lower back. "About fucking you senseless, to be exact."
"Oh my God," you mewled, clinging to the surface of the counter as you felt his hot breath between your legs. "I was... I was thinking about that too."
Smirking to himself, Bateman gave your ass a few firm squeezes before finally touching you where you wanted him most, his warm tongue feeling so fucking amazing on your swollen clit. "Oh, that's interesting," he cooed to you, enjoying the way your body reacted to his every move, it was always amusing and turned him on, the knowledge of having such power over you was enough to make him rock hard. "Looks like you're just pretending to be shy. Now spread these beautiful legs wider for me," as you did so he used both hands to massage your buttocks before sliding his digits along your tight lower lips to get better access to your wet entrance. "Good girl, so fucking good for me."
With that, he plunged his tongue into your tight hole, trapping you in place as you jerked in his grasp from the intense sensation in your lower abdomen, but that was only the beginning as the next moment, Bateman returned his assault on your little bud, rubbing it in intense circular motions.
"A-awwww, Patrick," your sweet voice was music to his ears, especially when he made you do those high-pitched wails, each time his tongue sank deeper into your soft, inner channel. "Please...that feels so..."
"Good?" he chuckled before peppering your dripping slit with little kisses. "Jesus, you're so yummy, mmmh," Patrick lapped at your pussy like a starved man, gripping your ass tightly to remind you who was in charge here. "I'd like to stay between these legs forever if I could." 
By the time he was done eating you out, you could barely breathe as you balanced on the edge of falling into the oblivion of pure ecstasy, his chiseled face covered in your sweet flavor, which he immediately cleaned up with his tongue.
"Patrick, it felt so damn amazing..." you whimpered and turned around to see him undoing his expensive suit, his red tie already loosened, making him look even sexier, if it was possible to be hotter than he was. "Please."
With a sassy grin, Bateman unbuttoned his blue shirt, revealing an absolutely mouth-watering view of his sculpted chest and perfect abs. "Please what, honey?" He cupped your face before pulling you into a ravenous kiss, his tongue swirling shamelessly around yours, making you moan at how heavenly he kissed you. "Use your words, make me proud of how bold you are."
A brisk unzipping sound hit you like a whip, giving you a strange feeling of liberation and excitement. "I want you, all of you. Whatever you will give me, I'll take gladly."
You could see his nostrils flaring with each word, as if you were a moth to a flame. Biting his lower lip, the man came closer just to pick you up as if you weighed nothing, and he walked into your bedroom, where the beautiful garlands on the window shone with all the colors of the rainbow, making the whole atmosphere truly magical, especially with the lights off.
Bateman didn't like it at first, but when he saw your childishly happy face, he gently placed you on the bed, towering over you like a mountain. "Lovely here."
"You like it?" Your question forced him to frown in irritation, but he just pecked your temple and shamelessly removed your top, leaving you completely bare before his hungry eyes. "I spent a lot of time decorating it."
Smiling ironically, Patrick placed a reassuring kiss on your temple before he removed the last of his clothes and you finally felt his soft skin against yours, you couldn't help but hook your hands and legs around him like a vine. "I like it." Of course, he didn't, you knew that, but it didn't matter because now you two belonged to each other, both physically and mentally. "C'mere, babygirl," Bateman suddenly sat down on the bed and invited you to get on top of him. "Today we're going to try something new. Do you trust me?"
Breathing heavily, you nodded, and the next thing you knew his thick cock was sliding along your wet folds as he held you tightly by your waist, manhandling you with such ease as if you were a feather. With a longing growl, the man pressed you closer to his strong body so he could graze your collarbone and play with your engorged nipples as he literally buried his face between your breasts, squeezing them with both hands.
"Mhhm, Patty!" You moaned as he sucked on two of your little peaks at once, his leaky tip already prodding at your dripping opening as Patrick decided to test the patience of both of you. "Please, oh-please, fuck me, please, fuck...fuck me!" 
Bateman snickered against your neck, sending little tickles that made you smile, and he couldn't stop himself from squeezing your cheeks as you looked so fucking cute and sinful right now. "Uh, I'll give you more than that."
After that, he carefully grabbed you by the back of your neck and slowly lowered you down onto his beefy dick, the second your bodies finally connected, you both let out loud moans and held each other tighter as if your lives depended on it.
"Mmhm-fuck," the man had to close his eyes from the way your pussy was clinging to his huge cock, encompassing it so tightly that you both saw stars as Patrick supported your bobbing movements, holding your hips in his big palms and rocking his own towards yours. "You feel...f-fucking amazing!"
"I love you, I love you, Patty!" you cried out desperately, looping your hands around his neck to pull him closer as your bodies intertwined like snakes, each move bringing so much pleasure as he could fuck you so deeply and lustfully in this position. "Please, c-cum inside me!"
Your words made his eyes open wide and then you heard a low, guttural growl as Bateman suddenly pushed you down, forcing you to lie on your back and lift your legs to press them against his broad chest as he began to pound harder, rolling his hips to stimulate your G-spot.
"Is that what my dear girl wants, huh?" The man asked, mesmerized by the sight of your bouncing breasts, the lewd sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling your bedroom, making you scream shamelessly in pure bliss as his swollen tip brushed relentlessly against your cervix, stimulating you in a way that could bring you to climax without even touching your clit. "'C'mon honey, milk my dick and I'll give you my cum." In addition to his dirty talk, Patrick pecked your ankle as gently as he could — on the verge of a frenzy, he could just ravish you until you couldn't move, but right now he was trying his best to focus on your release. "Do it for me, sweetheart, cum around my dick like a good girl!"
Creasing the sheets, you threw your head back onto the pillows from the pulsating sensation in your lower body. "Pat-Patty! A-aaahhh—" You choked on your own moan, writhing erratically around the bed, and only his strong arms managed to hold you in place as Bateman was aware that you were about to fall off the fucking bed.
"That's it, mhm," Patrick watched you attentively, relishing the way your eyebrows knit together from how hard you cum on his fat dick, your eyes closed and your lips frozen in a silent moan. "So fucking gorgeous, so fucking...mm-so fucking tight, fuck!"
Bateman shifted his position again, covering you from above, transferring his weight to his sturdy arms as he rammed into you like a jackhammer, you could feel his heavy balls slapping against your cunt in the obscenest way possible. And then the man finally collapsed inside you, painting your velvety walls white, pinning you down with his huge frame and biting your shoulder like an animal claiming its prey. You couldn't move and you were barely breathing, but you took him completely, until his hot liquid began to flow from your ruined pussy, flooding the sheets beneath you. Spent and exhausted, Patrick kissed and licked the mark he had just left before pressing his forehead against yours, holding you tightly in his arms and you knew he would never let you go as you were born to be his.
Moments later, you were standing next to the Christmas tree in your living room, Bateman sitting on the small couch, finally having his drink, but not wine as he managed to find some whiskey in your minibar. 
"Next time, let's put a Christmas tree in your apartment!" You suddenly blurted out, clapping your hands.
"No, don't even think about it, kitten," Patrick almost choked on his drink and coughed several times. "Oh, honey, don't make that face."
Damn, although you knew that Bateman didn't like all that stuff, it made you sad anyway, so the man had no choice but to comfort you here and now, before the situation got worse.
After putting the glass on the nearby coffee table, he stood up and approached you from behind, hugging you, but you were still pouting. "Listen," he whispered into your ear. "I have something for you, something special that will make you forget everything."
"What is it?" 
Thrilled, Patrick slipped into the pocket of his robe, which he had brought especially to your place because he couldn't stand any other robes but his own, and took out a small, velvety box. "And what do you think it is?"
As soon as you turned around and saw this little box, something in your mind flashed like fireworks. "Oh my God, Patrick..." you covered your face in your hands from shock. "Is that..."
Bateman opened the box in one swift motion, revealing a magnificent ring that shone brightly, reflecting the illumination of the Christmas tree. "I want us to meet next Christmas in a different status," he murmured, taking the ring in his hand. "You know what I mean?" Tears welled in your eyes as you couldn't believe this was happening. "Will you be my wife, (y/n)?"
At first, you couldn't say anything because you were shocked, but then you managed to whisper. "Yes, yes, of course I will," and then you snuggled into his warm embrace, allowing him to put the ring on your finger and kiss your forehead, and this kiss was different because now you were his fiancée. "I love you, I love you so much!"
With a bright grin on his flawless face, Patrick rested his chin on the top of your head and stroked your hair. "Merry Christmas, my dear little girl. I love you too."
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P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!
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Heart Shaped Kisses
R. Ripley x fem!reader
cw: fingering, oral (f receiving), clit play, soft sex, scissoring, top!rhea, bottom!reader, wax play, praising, dirty talk
of course i came back on valentines day, what did you expect?
it kinda switched between 1st and 3rd person, oops. not proofread
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The night had been perfect. Rhea took you to your favorite restaurant where she had a private table reserved for the two of you, with your favorite wine waiting for you, and a tall red candle in the middle of the table that lit the area.
As much as it may be a surprise, Rhea was a hopeless romantic, and she loved valentines day. Any day that gave her an excuse to spoil you, was perfect for her. Your gift was given to her earlier in the morning. You made her breakfast and you had curated an adorable little basket filled with her favorite treats, red and black roses, a stuffed bear with your anniversary date on its paw, and of course you snuck a lingerie set neatly folded on the bottom. Rhea loved it, and she gave you so many kisses afterwards your lips were almost numb.
Now, she pulled out your chair for you, and pushed it back in before taking her seat across from you. She poured you a glass of wine, and smiled at you from across the table.
You had been dating for 3 years, and it always amazed you how she seemed to come up with a new date idea for valentines day each year. It was adorable and you were so grateful for the thought she put into making your night.
"I love this, Rhea. Thank you so much." You spoke gratefully as you looked around the restaurant.
"Of course, I love doing this for you, love." Rhea smiled and she held your hand over the table. Bringing my hand up to her lips, she gave it a soft kiss.
I felt my cheeks heat up and I covered my face with my other hand with a big smile.
"Let me see you, beautiful." Rhea said. I blushed harder and shook my head no, laughing softly.
I uncovered my face a few minutes after, pushing pieces that fell in my face behind my ear.
"There's my beautiful girl." Rhea whispered with a soft smile on her face as she looked at me. I didn't cover my face this time, I just looked the other way as I sipped my wine.
"You're adorable." I said as I looked back her, returning the smile. Rhea playfully rolled her eyes, but I saw her blush as she looked the other way, which made me giggle.
The waiter came around to take your orders, and once he was done Rhea looked back at you.
"You really look beautiful tonight, Y/n." Rhea complimented sweetly.
"Thank you, Rhe. So do you." I complimented back, kissing her hand this time.
Dinner was amazing, she ended up finishing mine for me because I made the mistake of getting something bigger than I usually do but she wasn't complaining. We were in the car now, music playing quietly as her hand gripped my thigh.
We were about a 25 minute drive from the house, so we had a little bit to go. Rhea thumb began rubbing back and forth on the skin of my thigh, and I didn't miss the smirk on her face from the corner of my eye.
Her hand slowly began to inch higher and higher as time went on. I started shuffling in my seat about 5 minutes ago, and it of course didn't go unnoticed.
"What's wrong, baby?" She asked, faux concern in her voice, she knew what was wrong.
"Nothing! I'm just cold, that's all." I lied.
"Hm, okay." Was all she said as she looked back at the road.
Rhea's hand was now under the skirt of my dress, almost touching where I needed her the most, she was so close. She was still for a moment, until her pinky just barely ran over the center of my damp panties.
"Rhea." I sighed, looking over at her.
A smirk was painted on her lips as she looked ahead, pulling into our driveway, thank god.
"I want you in the house, up the stairs, and on the bed for me. Strip to your panties, beautiful." Rhea ordered softly before unlocking the car. I opened the door with a quick 'Yes Mami' before practically running into the house. I got up the stairs, and discarded from my dress and bra, and got on the bed like she requested.
I waited for only a few minutes, before she walked through the door in a pair of heels, fishnets and the lingerie I had put in the bottom of the basket. My jaw dropped as I took her in. How the hell did she get in that so fast?
"What, see somethin' you like?" Rhea teased as she put her hand on her hip. All I could do was nod as I brought my bottom lip between my teeth.
She slowly walked towards me, heels clicking across the floor as she inched closer. As she got next to the nightstand, she lit the skinny pink candle that was sitting there. It softly lit the room, and it smelled like roses.
"So pretty all spread out for me, baby." Rhea whispered as she stood next to me now, her hand reaching to softly pinch at one of my nipples.
I let my head fall back against the pillows with a soft sigh of her name.
"Fuck, Rhea." I whined as she tugged on it, eyebrows furrowing. Rhea let out a deep chuckle as she switched to my other nipple, pinching it roughly this time. My mouth fell open with a gasp as I opened my eyes to look at her. Her eyes were already fixed on me, taking in my features and every expression on my face.
Fuck.
"I bet your pussy is so wet for me already, isn't it baby?" Rhea husked as she gently trailed her hand down my torso, tickling my skin. All I could do was nod in response, which earned a smack against my clothed pussy. "Words, Y/n."
"Yes, Mami." I breathed out, my thighs trying to close against her hand before they were pushed back open. Rhea's middle finger pressed against my clit over my panties, which caused a soft moan to escape my lips as my eyes fluttered closed.
"So easy." She whispered. I went to speak, but when her finger began to rub in circles every thought quickly disappeared from my brain.
My body relaxed, and my legs spread wider.
"There's my girl." Rhea whispered beneath my ear as she left a soft kiss there.
"I can practically feel how drenched you are through your panties, sweet girl. This all for me?" She taunted in a high voice.
"Yes," I moaned.
"Good girl." She smiled.
Rhea's hands grabbed at my waistband as she slowly pulled them down, whispering a quiet 'fuck' as she saw my wetness glisten in the dim light of the candle and the street lights peeking from the window. As she slid my panties off, Rhea placed my legs over her shoulders as she pressed a soft kiss to my ankle, and began to slowly trail kisses up my leg until she was on her stomach between my thighs.
Usually, she'd tease me here, but this time she placed a kiss on my clit, and used her thumbs to spread my folds to get a better look.
"You're so fucking beautiful, baby. So fuckin' wet for me." Rhea said, with a low moan vibrating from the back of her throat as she sucked my clit between her lips.
"Fuck!" I squealed, arching my back off of the bed.
Rhea's tongue gently drew circles on my bud, using her tongue piercing to hit spots that made my brain go fuzzy.
"Mami," I whined as I squeezed my eyes shut. Soft whines and whimpers continued to leave my lips as she played with my clit, going between flicking her tongue against it and sucking on it.
"Such a noisy girl for me, aren't you?" Rhea pulled her head away to tease, her thumb replacing her tongue. She applied just the right amount of pressure as she quickly circled the sensitive nerves.
"I'm gonna cum, Mami." I warned as I felt my stomach tighten. Just then, Rhea slipped her middle and ring fingers inside of me, curling them into my sweet spot as she put her mouth back on my clit.
"Rhea!" I moaned, my head falling back as my thighs tightened around her head. She quickened her fingers, and it was only mere seconds before I felt my orgasm crash over me. Rhea helped me ride it out, switching to soft licks and slow curls of her fingers.
"You did so good for me, beautiful. I'll never get over the way you taste." Rhea said agaisnt my lips once she pulled her fingers out of me, kissing me deeply.
The kiss got heated quickly as her hips started to grind against mine, and when I moaned into her mouth she pulled back.
"I need to feel you against me, baby." I whispered.
Rhea's eyes widened slightly before they grew darker, and she smirked as she started pulling the straps off her shoulders.
"Yeah?" She said breathlessly, as she discarded her clothing. She spread my thighs again, and placed one of her legs over top of mine.
Placing herself against my core, we both let out a moan as she thrusted forward, our clits rubbing together perfectly.
"Oh fuck." She sighed, tossing her head back. She did it again, harder this time.
"You feel so good." I moaned, closing my eyes until I felt something hot against my skin. I gasped as my eyes shot open, and then I moaned louder once I noticed she had dripped some of the wax from the candle just below my breasts. This wasn't new to us, but it always surprised me.
"I could fuck your pretty pussy like this all damn time, you know that?" Rhea husked as she sped up, chasing her own high. I whined her name, hips bucking to meet hers as she continued to drip the pink wax onto my skin. I smiled when I looked down, seeing that she was drawing a heart with the wax.
She put the candle back a few moments later, interlacing her fingers with mine as she stared into my eyes. The combination of the eye contact, and her clit rubbing against mine made my stomach tighten again.
"Mami," I breathed out, eyes struggling to stay open.
"Happy Valentines day, beautiful."
"Wait for me baby, let me cum with you. You can hold it for me, can't you?" She said out of breath. Who could say no to that? I nodded, bucking my hips to meet hers. Rhea moaned, speeding her hips up. "You feel so good against me, angel." She said in a breathy moan.
With one final thrust, Rhea came with a quiet whine. My orgasm came right after hers, and she continued to grind her hips, helping us both ride them out. Once we both finally calmed down, she got off of me and rolled to lay next to me, kissing my cheeks.
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wynnyfryd · 5 months
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Trailer park Steve AU part 8
part 1 | part 7 | ao3
He finds himself on Cherry Drive by muscle memory alone. Quarter mile past Maple Street, take the third left, the second right; drive straight through the next stop sign and suddenly the Hagan house is coming into view around the bend, bathed in dim yellow light from a flickering street lamp. A 50s era ranch house, painted brick with a detached one-car garage, weeds sprouting through the crooked old stones of the front walkway and leaves scattered across the lawn in mushy browns and orange-reds.
It's not as nice as Steve's place is.
Was.
Whatever.
Steve blinks, shakes himself fully awake; feels a jolt of fear at the idea that he just drove here in some kind of fugue state because he doesn't know what he's doing here. Tommy left for college, and fuck Tommy, anyway.
He pulls up to the house. Slows the car to a crawl.
It's dark inside, all the lights turned off except for a single table lamp in the entryway window; shaped like a sea turtle, its belly full of blue-green light. Mrs. H. loves the sea.
He wonders if they're out of town or if they're just asleep.
The Hagans go to bed early, he remembers. He spent so many nights talking in a hush in Tommy's room; 8:45pm and they'd be lying side by side on the floor beside his bed, reading comic books or sports mags and whispering about nothing. Tommy'd always thank Steve for coming over because he knew his house was a little boring; he was the kid with old parents who went to bed early and kept the radio turned down and wouldn't let them have sugary snacks even on the weekends. Steve would always just knock their shoulders together and smile 'don't mention it' because he'd hang out with Tommy anywhere.
"Anywhere?" "Yeah, anywhere." "What about in a cave?" "Sure." "Under a bridge?" "Don't see why not." "In the belly of a whale?" "Now you're just being dumb." "Am not!" "Are, too." "Oh, yeah? Well- shut up!"
That was usually the part where they got in trouble for making noise, caught red-faced and laughing while they wrestled on the floor.
There's warmth in his chest at the memory, and that part, he expects.
But also...
Something about it makes heat flare in his gut, shameful and feverish as it flashes through his mind: the phantom press of Tommy above him as he pinned his shoulders down; the way the flush on his cheeks made Tommy's freckles pop; the breathless smile he gave, so close their noses almost brushed...
A light turns turns on in the Hagans' hall.
Steve hits the gas.
He drives for a long while, feeling like an asshole for burning through their precious gas money, but too— too something to fully care. He's alone on a highway with dark pastures blowing by, with the heat on and windows down, and he's circling back toward home when Bruce Springsteen starts to play, all croaky static over the spotty radio.
Born down in a dead man's town. The first kick I took was when I hit the ground.
Steve cranks it up and sings along. The song is cheesy, and he feels stupid, but he also feels free. Like there was a shackle around his throat and he didn't notice until it was gone. He shouts along to the chorus and then just shouts in general; long, guttural screams that feel like poison being purged. Tommy, his dad, the Russians, his mom. All of it, all of it spewing out of him into the cold night air.
He misses Carol suddenly. Her acidic attitude. The way it always ate through the worst of his sullen moods.
He can picture her now: perched on someone's lap in the crowded backseat, no seatbelt, manicured hand braced on the ceiling. She'd be smacking bubblegum and twirling a lock of her hair, and she'd roll her eyes at Steve's dramatics and ask whether he was done untwisting his panties yet. Steve would say something dumb and pervy in response, like, "Too busy dealing with girls' panties to focus on my own," and she'd roll her eyes harder and go, "God, you're fucking gross."
Carol's not here, though, so he just screams about her, too.
When he get back to Forest Hills his voice is hoarse. His body is tired; his soul is light. He's thinking, like: maybe he'll be okay. He'll channel his inner Claudia or Joyce and soldier on. Resilience, and all that shit.
He's almost smiling to himself when he turns into the park.
And then he sees the flashing lights.
There's an ambulance on his lot.
part 9
just gonna start tagging whoever commented the day before (if your settings will let me) bc i have the memory of a goldfish @a-little-unsteddie @slowandsteddie @pennyplainknits @thesuninyaface @hotluncheddie @messrs-weasley @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @blackpanzy @disrespectedgoatman @i-have-three-feelings @sirsnacksalot @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium
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merakiui · 1 month
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Hello! Could I request flower bouquet from the miscellaneous menu.. And as for the dynamic, I'm quite indecisive on that regard, but I recall you saying it's fine to let you chose? Forgive me if I'm wrong. I'd like to order that with red velvet cupcakes & banana pudding from the midnight menu for Jade Leech, with an AFAB reader. If you are unable to do this, it is completely understandable. I hope your day/night goes well, and may you take care.
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yandere!jade leech x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, kidnapping, slight angst, royalty au (princess!reader x butler!jade) note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]
It’s well past midnight when Jade finds you in the garden. He spots you milling about aimlessly beneath a stone archway. Greenery twists up the rough surface; vines spotted with tiny flowers drape like fruit from a bough. Moonlight paints you in strokes of silvery magnificence, a breathtaking sight even the most skillful painter could never hope to replicate on a canvas. Even though it’s the middle of summer, there’s a fierce bite to tonight’s temperature. It’s in his nature to protect, a bodyguard and a butler in one, which is precisely why he frets when he notices you’re dressed in a thin nightgown and a silk robe.
You’re stunning regardless of your attire. He’s always thought so. A hopeless observation, for you have never belonged to him and thus those words will remain a scandal under lock and key.
“My lady?” He approaches with even steps, his voice a gentle whisper. Despite his best efforts, you still flinch at his sudden arrival. He bows respectfully, a hand held over his heart. “Forgive me for startling you. I noticed you weren’t in bed when I came to check on you, and so I thought I might find you here.”
“Am I really so predictable?”
“Quite.” He chuckles at the pout that twists on your lips. “Admittedly, my advantage is rather unfair. I’ve known you long enough to commit all of your habits and haunts to memory.”
“You’re too good. It’s not fair…”
“Is everything all right?” Jade moves to shrug his tailcoat off, aiming to drape it across your shoulders for extra layering, but you stop him. “My lady?”
“I’m not cold. Thank you, though.”
Jade nods slowly and slides his arms back into the sleeves. “May I ask what’s keeping you up? It’s unlike you to visit the garden so late.”
“It’s nothing major. Just thinking too much about too many things. If that makes any sense…”
He hums in acknowledgement. You fidget on your bare feet. Some days Jade thinks you’d wander to your death if it weren’t for him. Having suspected this, he made sure to bring your shoes. Guiding you to the marble bench at the end of the pathway, where the space opens into a clearing enclosed with shaped shrubbery, Jade lowers to his knees.
“A princess shouldn’t dirty her feet so carelessly,” he reminds you, taking hold of your foot and gingerly sliding your shoe on.
You frown at him. “Does it matter?”
“In polite society, yes, very much so.”
“Polite society is the worst. How am I meant to frolic in the flowers as the fairy tales intended if I can’t even take my shoes off for such a thing?”
“You may do so in your dreams.”
“It’s not the same.”
Jade gazes at your legs from where he kneels. Should his gaze climb any higher… He snuffs that thought before it can take root. “Perhaps not, but the world within a dream is lenient and lawless. You’re free to break every rule you desire.”
He offers you his arm and you take it. Lifting you from the bench, he walks with you and admires lush blossoms alongside you. Sweet is the night breeze, bringing recollections of a childhood that has long since fled. Watching you, future heir to the throne, from afar, an unimportant butler-in-training… You’ve always been his world—the center of his vision. The single flower in a garden infested with weeds.
What he’d do to pick you and put you in a pot of his own making. To keep you solely because it is the whim of a selfish heart caught up in foolish, one-sided limerence.
“What would you do? In your dreams, I mean. If you could experience any dream, what would it be?”
Jade peers at you, taken aback. “You’re asking me?”
“No, I’m asking the flowers.” Playfully, you reach up to pat his head. He leans down to meet your hand halfway, a smile gracing his features. How fervently he wishes you would touch him with more purpose. If only your individual stations were not so far apart. If only he could become your equal just for tonight and know rapture under your fingertips. “Yes, Jade, I’m asking you.”
It’s not a calculated risk, for he knows the outcome will never be in his favor, but he acts on impulse anyway. He seizes your hand. You flinch away, surprised by this forthright display, but he holds firm. He’s determined to see this through to the end, even if it lands him a heart more shattered than when he began.
“I would become a prince and marry you.”
Much to his chagrin, you laugh. “That’s quite the lofty dream. A funny one, too.”
He squeezes your hand, insistent. “That is the truth.”
“It’s not.” You meet his mismatched stare. “It… It’s not, right? Surely you jest.”
“I have always admired you, my lady.” Testing his limits, he brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles. “Though you may be forever out of my reach and I may be but a mere servant, that does not stop me from loving you any less.”
Your face falls. There is no reciprocation to be found in your gaze. He suspected this from the beginning, but it does nothing to soothe the sting.
He grasps your other hand, hoping to bestow a kiss to it as well, but you jerk away so quickly that you trip over your feet and land in a heap on the grass. He doesn’t make any move to help you up. Not yet, at least. Lying sprawled on your back, you watch him with uncertain eyes.
“How long?”
“The day your father rescued me and brought me in—you offered your hand to me, and you told me I would never know the dangers of the sea again.” Jade stands over you, observing the many emotions flickering on your face, before lowering to your height. He straddles you with ease. “I had never known such kindness until then.”
“Ah, right… I remember that day. You were injured so severely they put you on bedrest. You had to learn how to walk all over again.”
“In spite of everything they told you about me, you visited me regardless. Every day, at every hour, to bring snacks and toys. To cheer me up. To wish for my swift recovery. To act as my crutch. For that, I am forever grateful.” His hands slide your nightgown up, and he feasts on the sight of your panties—on the way you draw your thighs together to hide from him. “I have always stood dutifully by your side, hoping to repay you for all that you’ve done for me.”
You look delicate in the grass, your robe slipping from your shoulders. Like a pinned butterfly or an angel having just fallen from the sky, you’re a sugared fantasy brought to life.
“Jade.” You grab at his shoulders and push back weakly; he doesn’t budge. “We… We shouldn’t. I can’t. If someone were to see—”
“They won’t.”
“Yes, but I—” you turn away from him, worrying your lip between your teeth— “I can’t, Jade… I’m betrothed. F-Furthermore, it’s not safe without…protection. You can’t.”
He smiles fondly, so sickly, stupidly enchanted. With the moon just behind his head, framing it like a hazy halo, you might mistake him for an angel. His actions suggest he’s anything but.
Lifting his index finger to his lips, he shushes you. “In that case, let’s play pretend for tonight—just as we used to—and trap ourselves in a dream.”
Your refusal falls on deaf ears.
Hands crawl along the expanse of your body, feeling everything within reach. He’s overjoyed to behold you, to press down on the space between your legs and savor your staggered breaths. You plead with him all throughout it, begging him to cease now and he’ll be spared. But Jade can’t. If it kills him, he wants to have died knowing he was on cloud nine.
This has always been his dream.
For tonight, he is neither prince nor butler. For tonight, he is simply a monster—the same monster your maids warned you against when you were little: “That cursed child is no good. He will bring ruin to your father—to you, Your Highness. You must keep away, for a child of the sea is a child of destruction and agony.”
The same monster who looked on with a single golden eye, lying in wait like the perfect predator and wearing the skin of a human to hide his true identity. The same monster who took to training as if it were second nature, honing his skills as a butler and a bodyguard. Hardening a heart that has never had the capacity to care for anything other than himself and the ones who have since departed.
The same monster who loves the human he ought to hate, for it is your kind who hunt the waters he was conceived in. Who spear merfolk with harpoons and feast on their flesh and eggs like it’s a sacred delicacy. Who arrange their skeletons in aureate frames. Who mount their taxidermied tails to the wall.
The same monster who, in some distant fairy tale, could have been a king if not for the devastation of his family tree.
Dewy grass sticks to your skin. The scent of moist earth envelops you in its verdant embrace. Jade sinks in slowly, holding you down by your hips. You squirm and cry, but he persists. He could be cruel and callous, rut into you like an animal instead of a lover, but he refrains. He loves you too much, and that hurts more than any pain he could inflict on you.
You dig your nails into his shoulders. If they were sharper, you might have been able to tear through his uniform. Sweet, soft moans spill from pretty, plush lips. He kisses you, adoring the hold your walls have on him when he rolls his hips to fill you deeper.
“Jade… Jade, please,” you ramble, breathing hot and heavy in his ears. It’s musical, the way you sing for him through your tears. “Oh, please pull out. I—aah—can’t… We can’t. Please, Jade.”
Perhaps it would have been easier to hate you and your father—detest the kingdom who has rendered his home an aquatic graveyard. Surrounded in a garden of exotic blooms, Jade thinks that’s impossible. Love born from hate is thorny, impossible to quell once it’s come to fruition. It’s dug its roots into his heart and given way to the most fearsome flower.
He should have killed you. He should have held that pillow over your face all those years ago when he snuck into your bedroom, silent as a shadow. He should have, but he didn’t—couldn’t. And now he’s here, towering over you without the pillow. His hands stray towards your throat, but instead of an execution he drags you against his chest. He can’t.
Years later and he still can’t fulfill his one and only childhood dream.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes glittering. “How I wish you were as ugly as your heart…”
Raindrops spatter your face, a quiet downpour spilling from heterochromatic hues.
You fall apart beneath him, ruined in ways polite society would deem grossly impure.
Now we’re the same, Jade thinks, bowing his head when he reaches his peak. He groans lowly, his eyes squeezed shut. Monsters without homes.
Come morning, the palace is in a panic. The princess has vanished, seemingly whisked away into the night, and the only one who may have any information on her whereabouts has gone with her. Jade doesn’t worry.
No one will find you at the bottom of the sea, unrecognizable as a mermaid in an abandoned coral kingdom.
On his empty throne, he knows of no better place.
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epiicaricacy-arts · 3 months
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oh we’re still so young, desperate for attention
this was super experimental so i will talk about my process (+ clearer version) under the cut
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i’ve been looking at a lot of “messier” or more textured painting styles recently and an artist that stuck out to me is clariondeluna ! they posted a self-portrait recently that i really liked and i was super interested in the brushwork seen in their work. i love all the textures and how the shapes feel so loose yet everything is so detailed.
that’s not a method for me at all!!!! i cannot paint like that at all and the stuff i like to paint is very different to theirs. which is okay!!!! i had no intention to copy this artists style so closely like with what i tried to do in my raiden painting, i just wanted to try this style out :^)
it’s been a goal of mine to avoid over-rendering like i tend to do a lot, and i think i’ve been doing good with that recently! the mindset i’ve got going on right now is that if i find myself staring at it too hard for too long, i have to leave it and move on. if there’s still something wrong with it, i can fix it later once ive got a fresh view!
i’ve been trying a lot of things with my art this year. i always try to challenge myself with each piece, and to end the year off i wanted to be as uncomfortable as i possibly could be with this painting. i let myself draw whatever i wanted because i still wanted to enjoy it, but everything i did in this process was new, including parts of the subject matter.
i’ve never drawn a head at an angle like this, and i struggle with drawing mouths open. i don’t do bold lighting like this, and if i do, it’s not fire. i’ve never drawn fire! i also rarely work with warm colours and i hate using green, so i combined those to be my colour palette. i like working cleanly so instead of having a dozen different layers for one section, each section only had 1-2 layers for rendering. instead of clipping masks i would simply paint over things loosely and clean it up later. i never like having limbs cut off in a drawing so i had his other arm go GOD knows where. i don’t like weird patterned backgrounds so i made myself figure out how to like it!
IS THIS MY FAVOURITE PIECE OF ALL TIME. no. absolutely not. but i’m very proud of how this came out with all the challenges i put on myself. i WANTED to get better at these things and be more broad with my art, both in terms of the styles and subjects i portray.
okay let’s talk about wtf this drawing is
for those who don’t know, the design in this painting is my fatui/“Father” lyney fan design (read the design post here). the concept isnt super complicated and i don’t really have much explanation for it, but i wanted to combine the story of how lyney wanted a delusion before getting his vision, fire eating circus acts and how olympic medalists will bite their medal to prove it’s real??? don’t quote me on that i’m like 75% sure that’s a thing that happens. i don’t watch sports though so im just believing someone i heard on the internet ages ago.
anyways. i think fire eating acts are cool. and i think the fact that lyney wanted a delusion is very interesting to me. scratches my brain in the right places. and yk as a magician lyneys character revolves a lot around fooling people and creating illusions so i guess what im saying here is that lyney is trying to prove to himself that this power he’s been bestowed is real. bc his whole life his only constant has been lynette so he is trying to see if he can trust this new power. cause i guess this is an alternate universe where lyney does eventually become “Father” but he never got his vision ??? idk im not making lore for this i just wanted to dress up this funny little guy.
ok i’m done
thanks for reading
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here’s my dog
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kodzukenmaaa · 1 month
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DREAM BABY
↷ ⋯ ♡ᵎ pairing: Nanami Kento X fem! Reader
↷ ⋯ ♡ᵎ contents: Nanami dreamed having a baby w/you
↷ ⋯ ♡ᵎ warnings: false pregnancy, Nanami sad:(
↷ ⋯ ♡ᵎ requested: yes/no;
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KENTO REMEMBER IT ALL.
He remembers how small hands would cup his cheeks and kiss his nose. Small feet pattering the wooden floor of his house, how her bose would scrunched at something that icked her, small but high pinch voice calling for him with a smile on her tiny face.
"Papa!"
Kento would smile and crouched down with his arms open and lift her up, spin her around, causing her to squeal and hug her. Nothing felt happier for him, it feel like the first time he went to Kuantan with you all over again, but it's every day.
"Papa, I love you this big!" She showed him her arms spreading, showing him how much she loves him.
"Papa love you too, Yuki."
And then he woke up, still in dazed. He looks in his arms to see you still asleep, light snore escaping you. He slowly got off the bed without waking you up and walked out of his room.
Still in dazed, he walked down the hall and opened the door to his daughter room and was confused. Where are the pink paint and small bed? Where's Yuki? There was no pink paint on the walls, no flower patterns wardrobe, no plushie, no child. Just an office. His office.
That's when he realised he didn't have a daughter. That dream felt so real.
The day continues on with you noticing how he' look like he's in a deep thought, the two of you laying around your now made bed. You were a bit shocked when he decided to lean his head on your chest. "Ken? What's wrong? You've been acting weird this past hour." Your hand going up and down on his back and climbing to his hair and start caressing it.
"I had a dream."
"What dream?"
"A child," his eyes shut tight and leaned more to your body.
Your eyebrows furrowed, what child? It took you a moment to realise what he meant. You sigh with a smile, "Did you dream we had a child?"
It took a while before he gives a small movement.
"A girl or boy?" You asked him.
"A girl, named Yuki."
"What did she look like?"
"She's a very loving and bright child like you. She would scrunched her nose at greens, very spoiled, she likes to be picked up a lot, she got your nose and smile." He explained to you while you comb his hair with your fingers. "She's got my hair. She also likes it when I put her hair in a ponytail."
"Eyes?"
"Mine but with your eyes shape."
"She sounds beautiful. Is that why you walk out of our room? To check on her" You asked him, making him jolt and look up from your chest.
"We're you awake?"
"Just for a moment, I woke up when you were by the door before falling back asleep."
He hum and muttered a sorry.
"You know I did once dream I had a child too," This topic interests him, "In my case, I dream I was pregnant and I had a boy. Very trouble making, keeps bringing back insects into the house telling me to meet his new friends."
Kento let out a small laugh, amused at your son in your dream.
"I remember how empty I was when I realized the child wasn't there, didn't exist. I cried that day because I missed that child." Kento brings your hand to his lips, pressing kisses to the inner of your wrist. "I'm guessing we're going to talk about having kids after this?"
"As long you're ready, I'm happy with that."
"It's not gonna be easy to raise a baby."
"I'll help you through it."
This dream sure brings the topic that you've been doing to discuss with your husband. Unknown to the two of you, both of you wanted to grow a family together quite long before Kento's dream.
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aphroditeinthesea · 4 days
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“ lipstick on your face (so it goes) ”
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leo valdez x female!reader 🔨
leo realizes the power of makeup
⚠️ makeout, slightly spicy
˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖
“Can I do your makeup?”
He looked up at her from what he was currently working on, “what?”
“Come on,” she frustratedly threw her head back, “I’m bored and you’re pretty.”
He smirked, “I am pretty,” he sighed as he stretched out his arms.
She raised her eyebrow, leaning closer to him from the chair she was sitting on, “so you’ll let me?”
He stayed silent for a minute. He looked away, then back at her.
“No one else will see it!”
“My siblings-“
“I love you.”
“Why would you say that?!” He laughed. He slid his hands down his face, “you can do my makeup,” he finally caved in.
Her smile grew, “I’ll be right back,” and with that, she pecked his lips before running out the door.
Minutes later, she came back holding a pink sparkly bag, that Leo could only compare to a lunchbox. She placed the bag on the table next to his tools.
“I‘ll start with concealer,” she began, grabbing a small bottle that was so not his shade.
“Babe,” he laughed, “I don’t think that’ll work.”
She rolled her eyes, placing dots under each of his eyes, “you’ll live.” She grabbed an eyeshadow palette next. As she opened it, he swore it smelled like vanilla frosting, “what color do you want?”
He glanced at the palette, “f/c,” he answered, looking back at her again. Did he really care for that color? Not until he met her.
“You’re not just saying that?”
“You love that color and I love you, so it’s perfect,” he smiled.
She felt her heartbeat slightly pick up speed as she watched his lips. She grabbed the brush, blending the color onto his eyelid. She tightly held onto his jaw to make sure he didn’t move.
She stood back, tilting her head as though she were examining a painting. She nodded to herself before taking out a black tube.
“No way.”
She giggled, “what? Are you scared?”
He shook his head, “I just know you don’t have the steadiest hands.”
“You can trust me,” she tried to convince him. She opened the tube and straddled his lap to get a better view of his eye, “it would, you know, accentuate your already amazing eye shape.”
He held onto her hips to steady her, “you need to stop flattering me,” he joked.
She bit her lip as she smiled. She leaned into him, beginning to brush the liner onto his eye.
He couldn’t help but pay all his attention to her bubblegum scented breath fanning his face. His eyes twitched slightly, but he overall was too distracted by trying not just throw her onto the table and kiss her lips right then and there.
She screwed the cap back onto the eyeliner, placing it back in the bag, “that’s all done at least,” she turned back to her boyfriend and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Is that all?” He questioned as his thumbs traced circles on her hips.
She paused for a minute, “one more thing.” She leaned back, pulling out a lip gloss. He puckered his lips as he thought she was about apply it to him. But instead, she glossed her own lips before putting the gloss away.
Before he had a chance to question her, his lips were taken over by the warmth of her own. He fell into the kiss as his eyes closed. He could feel the stickiness of the gloss being transferred to his mouth but he couldn’t have cared less, because all he cared about right now was pulling her as close to him as possible. His hands traveled down her body which made her press further into him.
She took her lips away for only a second so she could whisper, “you really are pretty,” she moved a stray strand of hair out of his face.
He laughed, “I know.”
“Shut up,” she added before leaning into another kiss. That was when Leo knew he would be asking her to do his makeup a lot more often.
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