A/n: Where Is The Luke Riordan Fanfic?? Like I Was Shocked Cuz Where Is My Sexy Flame Boy, Like Come

ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You and Eddie have a fantastic date.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞: Fluff

ੈ✩‧₊˚𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 920

Today was a great day, especially when you went to school; surprising, you even got a free cupcake from one of the prep kids.

But classes were boring as always, but something else brightened your day your boyfriend of 6 months asked on a date; you were thrilled when he asked; you were practically jumping in the hallways.

You couldn't wait; your feet were tapping on the floor impatiently, glancing back at the clock, waiting for your class to end finally. When I tell you when the bell rings, you grab your backpack and books, rush to your locker, and rush straight towards that door.

First one there, you had to get home immediately to get ready, but you had to wait for your sibling because you were on babysitter patrol; since then, did you become Steve Harrington? Here is slow, especially Erica talking to her little friends.

"Erica Sinclair! can you please get in this car" you yelled at her.

"Your not the boss of me" she turned to you crossing her embarrassed, yelling at her in front of her friends.

"Yes, am I, little girl. Now get in the damn car." you were getting irritated at her actions, but thank God she got into the car, or you were about to erupt.

The car drive was as silent as ever, and as soon as you got into the shower to freshen up, you needed to relax; who doesn't like to have a good shower. Now you were at your vanity, doing your makeup, and you decided to do a natural look with a little fountain, some bronzer, blush, mascara, eyeliner, and eyeshadow.

After you were done the look, you opened your closest to introduce an option, an option of clothing to miss and match together. You wear a white shirt, a frog-themed sweater your grandma knit for you, and denim pants.

You added some gold bangles, a necklace, and green earrings. After you were done, you admired yourself in the mirror, and you looked like a celebrity in all your glory. You fluff up your hair and fix up your hair. Then, a noise came from your window, and outside was your lover boy. You felt like you were on cloud 9.

You quickly ran downstairs just to be caught by your little sister, Erica.

"Y\N, where are you going at this time" Erica crossed her arms.

"None of your business, Erica" you looked back and her while getting your coat from the closet.

"It probably with that boy, Eddie munson," Erica roared, catching your brother's attention.

"Wait, your dating Eddie; why did nobody tell me this!" Lucas exclaimed.

"I don't need you to be questioning me; now, if guys could please get out of business, I would be happier." you smiled.

"Well, it's hard to not be in your business when you have a diary" Erica rolled her eyes

"WAIT, YOU READ MY DIARY" you stop putting on your jacket, making it droop on the side.

"Well, not only me but Lucas read it also"

"Erica...."

"You too, Lucas!!" You stared at them in disbelief, " You know I'll deal with you when I get home," fixing up your jacket and opening the door to see him outside.

"Well, hello, gorgeous," he smiles at you,

"Well, you look charming as always, Eddie," as you hugged him, "Shall we, princess" Eddie gently grabbed your hand and kissed it.

"We shall," you giggles at the sudden action, flushed someone might say.

Then after you and Eddie got into his van and went to a diner called 'ROSIES,' the diner was lovely; you and Eddie sat in the corner of the diner, you know, the "romantic side," one will say. Although it was a bit awkward, you guys held a good conversation, but it was going well.

Soon the waitress scrolled away; here to take your guy's order; well, to you, she was a bit sketchy, but she was rubbing up on Eddie. You didn't want to admit it, but you were jealous, A, because her tone totally changed when it came to you ordering.

Well, I might as well sauce up the problem; you gladly ordered chicken nuggets and fries; I know, childish, but you were a picky eater. That was the only thing that looked appealing.

"How mature," the waitress made a snark remark that almost got you at your seat but let's keep it classy.

You just smiled at her; after that, there was awkward tension between you and Eddie until Eddie broke the silence.

"How do you like it?"

"Like what?"

"The date" he exclaimed

"I like it; thanks for taking me out!" You smiled at him.

"It's really no problem" he brushed it off like he didn't care, but deep down, you knew he cared.

Soon your conversation was cut off by the waitress with your food. The food was good as expected, and the conservation held up through the whole date.

After the date, you guys hung out at a park; it was fun, swinging on the swing set, going down the slide, and going on the monkey bars. Needless to say, the whole date was terrific, especially when you are with Eddie.

But soon, it ended; Eddie drove you back home, and you kissed him before you departed. Thankfully your parents weren't home yet, but you see Lucas and his friends on the couch staring at you, and before you can escape it, they start bombarding you with questions; how fun. :D

POV: SPIDERVERSE CHARACTERS DOING THE GRIMACE SHAKE TREND

n.o.t.e.s - I'm just really bored and thought of this.

w.a.r.n - crackfic, fluff, and reader being a menace.

p.a.i.ri.n.g - various!spider-verse characters x reader

w.c. - 346

Gwen Stacy

☆ She thought of the trend as funny and thought it was kinda creepy. She would definitely be interested in doing the trend with you.

☆ When you did the trend first, she thought it was creepy like you first did it as a prank, but she was really scared she lost you.

☆ I feel like you would both do the trend on miles to scare him.

Hobie Brown

☆ He would think of the trend as funny. Lowkey would be down to do with you.

☆ When he first saw you doing the trend, he thought it was weird.

☆ He would love to prank Pavitr with this trend.

Miles Morales

☆ Miles would be scared of this together; he probably hates the trend of how creepy it is.

☆ When he first saw you doing it, he was scared, like shaking that he had lost you, just like a picture of you running to him, just saying it's a prank, while you were literally covered in the purple milkshake.

☆ He would do the trend with you, but with expecting, he doesn't have to get covered with the milkshake.

Pavitr Prabhakar

☆ I feel bad for him like he would be petrified to see literally on the floor covered in the liquid.

☆ I feel just like what you did to Miles; you would just pause everything and run to him, just trying to comfort him, apologizing to him repeatedly.

☆ This poor bb, he would do the trend with you, but you gotta beg him.

Miguel O'hara

☆ He thinks of the trend as just plain weird, like, why would you make a video of you spasming on the floor for views.

☆ When he first saw you did the trend, he was horrified that you were literally passed out on the floor, convulsing on the floor. You would just say it was just a prank; he would likely be pissed off at you for doing it.

☆ No, he wouldn't do the trend with you; he is just too srs.

BARBIE WORLD - BY NICKI MIANJ FT ICE SPICE

✧･ﾟ: 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐍𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 :𝐃 ✿

✧･ﾟ:  𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✿

______________________________________________________________

You were in your room getting ready for your date, laying down all your cute clothes and jewelry.

You wanted to look good but too good, yet also chic but not too stylish, just something that expresses you, because anything you wear outside express how you live and act.

You even got your legs shaved and got a mani-pedi.

Soon you were interrupted by your irritating sister, Erica. Always in your business like it was the wild west.

"Y/N, where are you going" Erica questioned you,

"Why is where I'm going, your concern?" you looked back at her.

"...Because mom and dad left the house and told me that you have babysit me, and Lucas is going to do some stupid thing with his nerd friends.."

"What" you gasp

"That's totally unfair," you complained.

"Well, life isn't fair, ain' it," your little sister blabbed out.

Before you could even hear what she said, you ran down the hallway away from your room and went towards Lucas. You didn't even knock. You just bust open that door.

"What the heck Y/N" Lucas yelled out

"Lucas..my little brother Lucas, for a love of a sister, can yo-" you were soon cut off,

"No"

"What do you mean no? I barely said anything."

"What you were about to say is for me to babysit Erica, and I will not"

"Please, Lucas, it's just one time. I will promise to repay you back."

"50 bucks"

"50 bucks for a one-time thing?"

"take or leave it"

"How about 15?"

Soon a long debate about how much money you have to pay Lucas to occur, and you guys finally got to agree on how much money you would pay, it was 25 bucks.

You finally got to properly get ready now, without any disturbances or that when you thought, then you heard rocks hitting your window.

You opened your window, annoyed by who was attacking your window, only to find out it was your boyfriend, Eddie.

Eyes brighten up with joy to your boyfriend, and how convenient it of him to come just on time, you rushed downstairs and went outside to see your date.

Eddie decided to have a picnic date with you. It was cute and elaborately planned. It was a fun time. You had your picnic in a field of flowers, the area was beautiful, and you got to make some flower crowns for yourself and Eddie.

The moment you had with Eddie was everything, you really wished you could stay like that forever, but sadly all good things shall come to an end.

You were dropped off by Eddie, and you couldn't just leave him without giving him a kiss, which you did and not even 5 seconds later you were reprimanded by your parents. :D

SCREAM

“Whats your favorite scary movie? - Randy Meeks x Fem!reader

“I wanna make you my final girl" - Billy Loomis x Fem!reader

“When you scream, itdrivesme nuts If you hang up, I’ll spill your guts” - Stu Macher x Fem!reader

``💿📷- Randy Meeks x fem!reader

Dessert - billy loomis x reader

Ik it ain’t valentines day anymore but can we have a valentines day pt2 with butcher, frenchie and a-train?? Ps i love how you write. Always so accurate :)

Part 2 of the Valentines Drabbles/Headcanons - requested >3

n.o.t.e.s - Since it's still February, we're still in the month of love !>3 P.S thank you so much anon, I'm really happy that you enjoy my writing! >3

w.a.r.n - Some nsfw, fluff, and just pure love.

w.c - 686

Billy butcher

❀ Billy would surprise you with flowers like roses, a box of chocolates, sweets, and a bunch of valentines-themed and your favorite biscuits.

❀ He would definitely surprise you with a homemade dinner (It he is a good cook ngl).

❀ You guys would spend valentines day watching a movie, snuggling each other for warmth, as you guys would just enjoy both of each other's company.

❀ He would definitely take you on a good date, with just the two of you, it wouldn't be like a fancy restaurant but like a comfortable, family-type restaurant, just a casual one.

❀ He would gift you your favorite flowers or a cute necklace.

❀ To be honest, I feel like even with butcher's strong guy facade, I feel like he is just a soft baby, that just needs love.

NSFW

❀ Billy would definitely be into vanilla (BUT HEAR ME OUT) He would be really vulnerable with you, it would really give the same energy as how butcher found Rebecca.

❀ He would handle you with care, like your a piece of glass, he just doesn't want to lose you like Rebecca. He would take his time with you also, and coax you.

❀ Passion sex with you, #handlewithcare >3

❀ The butcher would be into a breeding kink, like making his little family with you like after he handles Vought. Just the both of you and your children living in a comfortable house, just basking with each other until death.

❀ Aside from being vanilla, he would also be dominant yk, being that fellow that would take anywhere, I swear, idk he would just be a freak tbh.

Frenchie

✿ Now Frenchie would definitely surprise you with all your favorite things flowers and chocolates.

✿ He would surprise you with your favorite dinner, and also surprise you with breakfast in bed, and also would just surround you with love and hugs + cuddles :)

✿ Frenchie would just serenade you with songs and give some pet names and fawning words in french.

✿ Frenchie would have a little date with you in your apartment, with a candle-lit romantic dinner, with you guys basking in each other's love and presence.

Nsfw

✿ Frenchie would be into vanilla sex, I feel he wouldn't be dominant like that, maybe vulnerable (?) with passion.

✿ He would definitely love when you ride him, that shit would just make him go crazy tbh.

✿ Frenchie would just love when you handle him, you would be the romantic one in the relationship. I feel he would definitely be into some voyeurism, idk I feel he would be a secret freak tbh.

✿ He would love getting head from you, would def make him go crazy and zooming fr.

A-train

✽ He would surprise you with flowers and your favorite thing, just the same valentine's thing you would surprise anyone with, he would also buy you a necklace and some of your favorite shoes or clothes (or anything else)! >3

✽ He would watch a romantic maybe scary movie with you, as you guys cuddle.

✽ Take you out to a restaurant, (he would definitely don't know how to cook), and he would surprise you with some gifts and goods.

✽ He would also slow dance with you as your guy's favorite song plays in the background as you guys give each other loving stares and pet names + cues.

Nsfw

✽ Okay, first let's first forget and pretend that a-train does not have a foot fetish and liked his toes getting sucked, but if you're into that, you can do you, I don't judge yk. 😳

✽ He would definitely be a freak, be into voyeurism maybe even exhibitionism, like imagine you both getting ready for your dinner date, and he is just really horny and take you on your dresser.

✽ Your just fucked out with blissed, basking in the moment of pleasure. -and he's just like asking to suck his toes (jk) or unless.

✽ We know a-train is a freak tbh, he wouldn't mind being vanilla with you.

Playing basketball with the spider characters

n.o.t.e.s - I don't even know at this point 💀

w.a.r.n - crackfic, idefk, this before miles got hunted down by grown adults and children. Not proofread because it's 3 am, and I just listen to pinktape 💣.

p.a.i.r.i.n.g - various!spider-verse characters x reader

w.c. - 1.4k

It all started with a simple game of basketball on the court of the Spiderman HQ, practicing some passes with miles, as he looked a Gwen, accidentally getting slammed in the face with the basketball.

"Oh shit, sorry miles!" you piqued, as you put your hand on the side of your head, bending over to help him up from the ground.

"Shouldn't have been staring at Gwen for too long" you snickered, while you grabbed the basketball from the ground.

"Yeah, yeah" Miles groaned, rubbing the place he got hit, "Now, let's play some basketball, gotta get your head cleared" You threw him the ball with some force, placing your foot on the court before he bounce the ball on the court.

"Come on, miles. Your knew the guy, people said you were good and tough" you teased, "I wonder if you got weaker," you said.

"Yeah, yeah get into the game," Miles said back before he dribbled the ball before you chased by the court, swiping the ball from him and shooting a 3-pointer, as Miles fails to smack the ball away from you.

"You said you gotta better Miles, what happened" you laughed, before dribbling the game, swerving your body away from Miles intercepting the ball from you, just to score on him again.

"That was just round 1," Miles said, before stretching his arms, before he looked at Gwen.

Gwen just looked at Miles, shaking her head with a laugh

"Better not lose, your girlfriend here" you said.

"SHE NOT MY GIRLFRIEND, yet" yelled out, mumbled the last part.

"Yea sure" you spat.

Before you knew it you manage to make the score 18 to 7.

"Come on, miles, why are you so tired" you teased, as you looked at his tired hunch back form, "Just give me a minute" he wheezese.

"Been 2" you said, before bouncing the ball around him. As you looked at his form running to sidelines as Gwen gave him water to drink.

"Come miles, where was all the talk" You gave him a smug grin, as he chugged down the water.

Before you turn around to see Hobie and Pavitr walked into to see the noise, as you bounced the ball onto the ground mocking Miles.

He glared back at you, "Oh, Hey Hobie, hey pavitr! Wanna join the game" you exclaimed. Pavitr immediately said no, knowing he gets crushed by you. It was infamous that you know to get a little competitive when you play any type of sport or do a challenge with anyone.

"No thanks Y/N, just trying to see what was happening" Hobie took his hand out of his pockets, walking towards you.

"What happened to Miles" he questioned you, knowing what probably happen.

"He challenge me to baseball, so I did" You gave me a cheeky smile.

"Oh, I see. Well, Miles, it was good to know you" Hobie came up to him a pat his back, putting his hand into his pocket as he sat next to Pavitr.

"Come on miles, time is ticking," you said before Miles walked into the court. Not some long, you scored on him more and more. And the loud noise of the buzzer got more of the attention of the Spiderman variants, walking into the court, as miles scored against you, soon more and more people came crowding near the court.

"Oh man, this is rare" Peter walked into the court with Mayday, as Mayday got out of her sling. Crawling to Hobie, as hobie place her into his lap.

As he sat down, "Miles you better win this" he shouted out.

Earning looks from miles.

"Come on Y/N, where was all the smoke," he said, with a smug smile.

"Don't get too cocky, morales" You seethe, catching the game he three at you, before dribbling and scoring it in.

The whole court seemed to get crowded as people started betting on who was going to win. Hobie started to sell tickets to get inside to see the game. The whole crowd was getting loud.

----

Miguel walked down the hallways of the HQ, "Where is everyone" Miguel hissed out, as Lyla's hologram figure spawned.

"It seems like they're at the basketball court" Lyla responded by checking the loading of some screen panels, "Seems like it's almost to max capacity".

"What are they even doing there," Miguel said looking at Lyla, "Their game is being held there" she utter out.

"Between who?" he turned around to Lyla's hologram form, "Miles and Y/N," she said with excitement, "Oh that's gonna be fun".

"Well, can you call everyone back to get to work, there whole multiverse worth dealing with" Miguel said before looking at lyla's missing form, she was long gone.

"Oh for god sake" Miguel cursed, walking towards the court.

..

"Hobie, what are you even doing" Miguel crossed his arms, "Selling tickets boss," Hobie said while leaning on his chair, doing a salute at him.

"Besides wouldn't you not want to watch game, Y/N is absolutely crashing miles, it game you can't skip mate" he beckoned, Miguel raised his eyebrows at him, cocking them.

"You can get in for free, since your a big boss," Hobie said, "besides Y/N playing," Hobie said, looking straight into Miguel's blank stare, "What is that supposed do with me?"

"Just get in there" Hobie pointed at the doors, as Miguel shrugged getting into the packets room, seeing you stealing the ball from Miles.

Before he started pushing some variant out of his way before making his way into the court, interrupting the game before you and Miles stopped. "What the heck, Miguel" you exclaimed, pointing a him.

The whole court was silent, as Miguel turned around.

"Are you guys serious, you guys are all here while there a whole multiverse in danger?!" Miguel yelled out, earning some mutters from the crowd.

You placed your hand on your hips as you held the basketball in your other hand.

"Miguel do you ever shut up" you snapped at him, Miles immediately side-eyed you, as Miguel looked at you with a glare, "Excuse me"

"Your excused" You smiled at him, cocking your head to the side.

As Miguel hissed at you, "What if I make you a deal" you proposed, Miguel cocked his eyebrow at you listening, "Play a round of basketball with me, if I win nobody here has to listen to you for a week if you win, then everyone has to obey your command and ill even listen to you" you listed the bet.

"Sure" Miguel agreed.

"Miles, off the court," you proclaimed, "Hey!" he exclaimed.

"Off the court" you repeated to him again, taking a glance at him, as you bounce the ball onto the ground. The sound of the whistle echoed throughout the room, "Well, this going to be interesting" Hobie walked into the crowd where gwen and pavitr was sitting.

"Definitely is," Gwen said, before snacking on some popcorn, as she gave some to mildly upset Miles who sat down right next to her.

"Major" Pavitr said, as he leaned out of his seat.

Soon the game started, and then the score started to begin to tie up, turning into a close game. "Oh jeez, it's a close game," Miles said out, leaning back in his seat.

The time of the final game closed up to seconds, as it was from inception to inception, you were getting tired, as you heaved out. "Y/N, don't tire on me now" Miguel gave you a smug smile while dribbling the ball.

Getting out back into the court, as you took the ball from his ball incepting the throw, as you dribble the ball from him. Swerving your body away from the steal, you dribbled the ball to the hoop.

As a huge, tall Miguel block your view from the hoop, before you curve yourself jump onto him, and dunk the basketball into the hoop forcefully, breaking the backboard. Glass shattering onto the floor, glass going everywhere.

"Oh my days" Hobie stared in disbelief, Pavitr clasping his hand to in mouth in what just happen.

Gwen and miles looked at each other in disbelief, Lyla recording everything that just went down.

Peter just finishing his Spiderverse whopper. Mayday just clapped in excitement, babbling incoherent things.

It was silent before loud cheering was heard.

"RAHHH" you yelled in front of Miguel face shocked face, "Miguel losing was a canon event" pavitr yelled.

"I guess no more listening to you," you said, giving him a big smile, as you stick your tongue at him.

"-For a week" he muttered.

"I can't believe that just happen, Miguel losing" Lyla started laughing.

"You should have seen your face, Miguel, priceless" she cried out.

Miguel just stare at her with a blank expression.

As you danced around Miguel, gloating with excitement.

NDA | Coriolanus Snow

When you get hired as a nanny for President Snow and his wife's firstborn, you’re beyond thrilled and grateful. But quickly, the perfect facade melts, revealing the ugly truth of what actually goes on in the Snows' house.

Warnings: NON-CON, Capitol! Reader, Innocent Reader, Cheating, Coercion, Blackmail, Power Imbalance

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Your worried eyes track the frenzied glide of the woman’s quill over the notepad. You squint, hoping to discern some of the words she’s scrawling that way, but they are indiscernible…just like the stone-cold expression of the bespectacled woman on the other side of the desk.

She catches you trying to peek. Your heart jumps.

As her sharp green gaze zeroes in on you, you clear your throat and shift in your seat.

She puts her quill down and twines her fingers.

“So what do you think sets you apart  from the other applicants?”

You chew on your lip. When you arrived to offer your candidature this morning, you naively believed you’d be early. Instead, you were forced to join the tail end of the massive waiting line stretching far outside the Snows’ estate. It didn’t hit you before that moment, how prized the position is. Each of the women and girls you saw radiated excellent breeding and impeccable manners. Many probably attended the University and could double as a tutor if the need presents itself.

This isn’t your case. Your parents left you and your brother Laertes with nothing when they suddenly passed away in a rebel bombing. You couldn’t blame them. This wasn't the plan. Who plans on dying and leaving their two children to fend for themselves?

Still, you now have a list of bills the length of your arm coupled with a massive mortgage to pay every month. And as Laertes’ sole caretaker, you must ensure you can afford to send him to University once he completes his education in the Academy.

Circumstances denied you that chance. Despite being of university’s age, you couldn’t afford the cost of tuition and had to drop out as soon as you got accepted. You want better for your little brother.

So as soon as you heard the news that President Snow and First Lady Livia Cardew were in search of a nanny for their son Martius, you jumped on the opportunity to apply. You rose before the sun, rummaged through your mother’s closet to find her best dress, and hailed a car to come here.

It’s a long shot, of course. You’re not as polished and impressive as some of the other women. You’re also noticeably younger. But the wages promised alone compelled you to take a chance despite the odds being unfavorable.

Fiddling with your hands, you meet the woman’s impassive stare head-on.

“What sets me apart?” You mull over your answer. You could paint a false, august portrait of yourself, your skills and your accomplishments. Or try to at least.

But what would be the point of pretending to be someone you’re not only to be found out later on? So you elect to tread the path of honesty.

“Nothing,” you say. “But I’m a hard worker. A very hard worker. In fact, I already have three jobs, one at a bakery, another as a clerk in an antique shop and I assist Fabricia Whatnot at her boutique sometimes.” Panic quivers inside you as the woman quickly jots something down on her notepad. You swiftly specify, “...But I’ll quit all of them if I get the position, of course.” You lick your lips as knots tie your stomach. “I can learn everything there is to learn on the spot. I love children, and…” You trail off, gaze traveling to your lap as you muse if you should reveal more. Your fists clench as you add, “I have a little brother who’s a few years older than Martius, and I’m really hoping I get this opportunity so I can give him the life he deserves.”

An unnerving quiet occupies the air. The wait is agony, your nails digging painfully into your palms. The jagged drumming of your heart bleeds inside your ears as she studies you.

Eventually, she leans back in the velvet chair, her face betraying no thought or emotion.

“You’re dismissed,” she says.

Your heart plummets to your feet. You shakily rise, dispirited as you drag your heels towards the door. You steal a glance above your shoulder. The woman’s attention has already drifted away from you as she shouts for the next applicant.

You sourly exit the office. You try to swallow your dejection as you note how many women are still waiting in line, each of them likely more qualified and experienced. It’s obvious you tanked the interview. Shoulders slumping, you take resigned steps through the elegant, palatial hallways of the Snow’s mansion. You get lost in admiring the crystal and gold chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings. There isn’t an inch of the house that doesn’t scream excessive, unattainable wealth.

You take your time soaking it in. Chances are you’ll never step foot in such a place in your lifetime ever again.

Distracted, you don’t notice the person in front of you before it’s too late. You bump straight into a hard, inflexible body. 

The sudden collision threatens your balance.

Fingers coil around your wrists as you stagger back, preventing your impending collapse onto the marbled floor.

As your attention drifts skywards, your jaw drops at who fills your vision.

“P-President Snow, my deepest apologies, s-sir,” you stammer, flames licking your cheeks.

As if you didn’t make yourself look dimwitted enough before, you now carelessly crashed into the leader of all of Panem. Just when you thought the day couldn’t possibly get worse.

You take him in. It truly is him. Shock fills you. 

 Tall and dazzling in a crisp white shirt and crimson vest that hints at his lean physique beneath the clothes, his signature blond waves slicked away from his face, he looks every bit the important figure that he is.

The flickering TV screen you own at home doesn’t do him justice.

A gentle smirk unfurls on his lips.

“It’s quite alright. I’m not made of sugar,” he jests.

“No…you’re not, your highness…majesty...I mean sir.”

Your blunder expands his smile. His cerulean gaze drags over your frame.

“Are you here for the nursemaid position?”

“I am, sir.” You unleash a deep exhale, his inquiry tossing salt on the fresh wound. The interviewer clearly wasn’t impressed by your less than stellar performance. Maybe you should have tried to mimic the way the girls with whom you attended the Academy behave more. They carry themselves with such confidence, wading through the world with the certainty of their destinies being secure, bereft of hardships unlike district dwellers.

You envy how carefree they get to be. Everyday you wake up worried you’ll come up short on a bill and you and Laertes will be forced to leave your family home. No matter how diligent you are at work, there never seems to be enough money to sustain the two of you. Even with three jobs, you’re barely eking out a decent living for you and your little brother. Many times, you’ve gone to bed hungry just so Laertes would not.

You don’t even realize tears have filled your eyes to the brim until a handkerchief is daintily pressed into your cheeks.

Flabbergasted, you blink up at President Snow. 

“Thank you,” you exhale, stunned by his kind gesture.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

You search his eyes. Genuine interest lights up his pellucid blue orbs.

Without much thought, you confess, “I just don’t think I did very well with my interview.”

As he scrutinizes you in silence, cocking his head sideways, embarrassment rushes through you.

Words anxiously leave your lips in a tremulous string.

“God, I’m so sorry, spilling my problems to you as if you’re not an extremely busy man, sir.”

He shakes his head. “It’s quite alright. And do not count yourself defeated, sweetheart.” Your pulse stutters when he bends over you to whisper, “You may have left a stronger impression than you think.”

He nudges the pocket square between your hands. It’s still damp with your tears. You gape at it in awe. President Snow’s initials are elegantly etched in the left corner of the fabric.

“Here. Keep it. Though I’d much prefer it if you didn’t cry.” He pauses, studying you. “Girls as lovely as you never should.”

His words send your heart into a frenzy. For a while, you’re too stunned to move. You then shake yourself back to reality, noticing you’re now staring at the empty space where he used to stand. He’s gone. You look ahead. He’s already miles away from you, wrapped in conversation with who seems to be an assistant of his. 

Your thumbs press against the soft fabric of the pocket square. Cheeks ablaze, you hold it to your nose. It smells like roses, the same delicate scent that wafted from him a few minutes ago. Your back prickles. You pivot and are astonished to find the envious glares of some of the applicants still waiting in line zeroed in on you. Self-conscious, you rush to continue your exit, fleeing away from the hateful stares. 

As the outside gates come into sight, you can’t suppress an elated smile. It’s not everyday someone meets President Snow and receives such a gift from him. Shoving the handkerchief in your pocket, you vow to place it somewhere safe and always cherish it. 

When you return home, your brother’s already sitting in the living room, his tiny brows scrunched in concentration and his nose buried in his books. Your stomach sinks. Everything you did today was for him. You can’t help but feel you missed out on a huge opportunity, one that’d have changed the course of his life forever. You glance around at the apartment. The walls are crumbling. The wooden floors are creaking. The pipes in the kitchen have been leaking for weeks, a measly bucket you must empty every morning the only thing preventing a flood. And at night, the pitter-patter of rodents’ paws resonates from the ceiling.

Every inch of your family home is in dire need of repairs.

Unfortunately, every penny you earn goes into rent and food, meaning the house falls apart a bit more everyday. Perhaps one day, you and Laertes will awake beneath the rubble of what’s left of your childhood home. Nightmares of that sometimes keep you up at night.

“How was the Academy today?” you chime, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. Worry twists your chest. There isn’t much left. You’ll need to make do with cabbage and whatever other veggies are left. Perhaps you could toss in some leftover dried meat and make a stew.

“My teacher signed me up for advanced trigonometry,” your brother announces.

You close the cabinet and beam at him.

“Oh, that sounds hard. I’m proud of you.” It doesn’t exactly surprise you. Laertes’ always been exceptionally smart. Even his teachers noticed how gifted he is from an early age. Unlike you, he breezed through middle school and now the Academy.

It’s why it’s crucial you make sure he can go to the University. A mind like his shouldn’t be wasted.

You brother shrugs, exuding nonchalance.

“It’s fine.”

You rush to him. You wrap your arm around him playfully and hug him in his chair, pulling his cheek like when he was little. You know he hates when you do that but you can’t help teasing him a bit. It’s your duty as a big sister after all.

“Don’t downplay it. My little brother’s a genius.”

He wriggles his way out of the hug, rolling his eyes. 

“Stop it.”

You head back to the kitchen and fire the stove.

“I’ll make you something,” you say, smiling at your brother.

His brows knit. “Make something for yourself first.”

You nibble your bottom lip. You truly hoped he wouldn’t notice, how much smaller than his your portions are. But he’s growing; he needs it. Much more than you. Besides, how can he focus at the Academy and be the brilliant boy he is supposed to be with a growling stomach? You won’t allow it.

“Laertes…”

He shakes his head, his expression firm.

“No. You always do this. This time, we split whatever is left.”

Heaving out a resigned exhale, you nod. You whirl to resume preparing dinner.

You gather a boiling pot from the overhead cabinet and place it on the stove. With the ease of practice, you begin chopping vegetables and tossing them into the pot. You add spices and water. The mouthwatering aroma quickly fills the kitchen. Pride swells in your chest. Your cooking skills have improved so much in the last year since your parents passed. You now manage to bring flavor to the blandest of meals. 

Once the stew’s ready, you pour a portion in each bowl, putting just a little more in your brother’s and praying he will not notice.

You place the steaming bowls on the table and take a seat opposite him.

“No books at the dining table,” you admonish, mimicking the exact tone your mother used with your brother. Admitting defeat, Laertes sighs and sets his homework aside. The tiny victory tugs your lips skyward.

He tells you about his day at the Academy while the two of you eat. You’re delighted to hear he’s making a lot of friends and he’s at the top of his class for most science subjects. He’s struggling a bit more with his poetry and ethics classes, but you encourage him by reminding him he can just ask the teacher for extra assignments to keep his grade up.

“I interviewed for a new job today,” you reveal, stirring the spoon in your bowl while waiting for your brother to eat more of his food.

“How did it go?”

“Well, it pays really well so I’m hopeful.”

The hope dancing in his eyes makes your chest ache. You don’t have the heart to tell him you made a fool of yourself today. You may not be gifted like your brother, but you want him to know he can rely on you at least.

Pursing his mouth, he looks down at his stew.

“That’s great. It’d be good if you didn’t have to work as much.”

Your smile falters. “Don’t worry. I have everything under control.”

“Okay.”

His dour tone stirs your concern. You wish you were better at hiding things from him, making his childhood as normal as possible. But your brother’s twelve now, and that’s old enough to sense when things are wrong.

He rises from his seat. You frown as you note there’s still food left in his bowl.

“Finish your plate before going to your room.”

Annoyance pinches his features but he still picks up his bowl and hastily guzzles down the remainder of his stew.

“Happy now?” he says, wiping his mouth.

“Yes. Very,” you cheerfully respond.

He gathers his books and strides towards his room. 

Your voice rises.

“Don’t stay up too late to study, okay? I love you.”

“I…love you too,” he mumbles.

You bask in the moment as you clean the table. Thankfully Laertes is still at an age where he says it back. One day he might not. So you must cherish every instant. Every conversation, every hug, every ‘I love you’. Because it could all vanish in a second. You learned that the hard way a year ago.

The day of the interview recedes to the back of your mind as you keep living your life. Work is harrowing, as usual, but you tend to your tasks as best as you can. Your arms ache as you knead the dough in the back of the bakery. You give yourself a second to wipe the sweat off your forehead. It’s been a hectic afternoon. There’s a massive pastry order for some Capitol heiress’ birthday due tomorrow. So you’ve been racing between the front desk and the kitchen in the back. A baker called in sick today, leaving you with twice the workload.

You know it won’t take much to crash into your bed and fall asleep tonight.

To make matters worse, the day hits its nadir when you get your pay that day. You peer inside the envelope for the umpteenth time. An anxious chuckle peals out of your lips. 

“I’m sorry I don’t want to complain, but…this doesn’t match the hours I put in.”

The owner scratches the back of his neck, a contrite expression etched on his face.

“I’m sorry too. With the new taxes imposed by the Capitol, I had to cut your salary.”

Slack-jawed by the news, no word leaves your mouth as you stare at him. He sighs.

“If it’s a problem, we can find someone else-”

“No, no,” you interrupt, blinking in panic. “Please, I need this job.”

He acquiesces and you’re forced to thank him despite feeling cheated. You actually scaled back your hours for your other part-times since this one paid more. What a waste. 

Dispirited, you return home. As you give the driver a bill for the fare, your insides wrench. Every bill counts. Perhaps you’ll need to walk back home from now on. The streets of the Capitol are notoriously dangerous but you can’t see any other way to save your dwindling wages. You already know you’ll need to request an extension for rent this month. How will you pay it, however?

You suppose you’ll have to figure it out. You always figure it out.

These are the somber thoughts swaying in your mind as you check the mailbox. 

Bills. Bills. And more bills. Your already sour mood plummets even more. But a slim, silver envelope sticking out from the pile corrals your focus. Curiosity surges inside you. It looks fancy and there’s a wax seal with the Capitol’s symbol keeping it shut. You rush to open it, heart fluttering in strange anticipation.

You unfold the neatly folded letter inside. As you read the words, you gasp, dropping the letter. Still trembling from shock and excitement, you bend to pick it up. 

You take a deep slow breath before reading it again. 

This time, a squeal escapes from your lips. 

You read it many more times to make sure your eyes aren’t just conjuring wild fantasies. 

After a while, you realize they aren’t. It’s true. 

Holding the letter to your chest, you toss yourself on your bed and kick your feet excitedly. 

You then place your palm on your forehead. In disbelief, you beam at the ceiling. 

Somehow…you’ve been hired to work for the Snows. You actually got the job. 

Perhaps there is light at the end of the tunnel.

You fidget before the iron gates, smoothing absent wrinkles on your skirt. It’s one of the best outfits you could find on short notice that wasn’t moth-eaten or visibly overworn. You pray it’s enough. You let your gaze wander. The Snows’ estate truly is majestic. The lush gardens. The beautiful architecture. You feel a little small as you admire the mansion.

Remembering yourself, you pivot to the man who drove you there. You fish inside your pocket for a bill and hand it to him. He stares at you blankly from the driver’s seat.

A weary sigh ripples behind you.

You turn, your eyes widening. It’s the woman who interviewed you that day. She wears the same stern expression.

“You don’t need to pay him,” she explains, dismissing the man with her hand. He nods and drives away. “He’s your assigned driver. He’ll pick you up each day and take you back home.”

“Oh.” You offer your hand. “Nice to meet you…again.”

She gives you a lengthy onceover, completely ignoring your gesture. Then she motions at you to follow her. You let your hand fall to your side. Heat blooms in your cheeks. Perhaps, you were too enthusiastic just then. Straightening your spine, you try your best to keep pace with her quick strides.

“I’m Pandora. I supervise most housekeeping duties for the president. I’ll show you around the estate. Then you’ll meet the young Master.”

She gives you a tour of the mansion. You’re even more amazed than last time though you try to suppress your awe and not stare excessively. She shows you the garden as well. The sea of snow-white roses makes your head spin. She specifies that the only part of the house that is off-limits is the west wing of the mansion, as these are the First Lady’s apartments and she must have rest and quiet.

She ends the visit by taking you to the nursery. A smile spontaneously finds its way onto your lips. A toddler plays with his toy train on the floor. With his blonde curls and bright blue eyes, he bears a striking resemblance to his father.

“That’s him? He’s so cute,” you whisper. Even the stern woman’s expression thaws a little as she looks at the child, softening ever-so-slightly. You send her a questioning glance. She gives you a nod of approval. 

You approach the boy and crouch in front of him.

“Hi. You’re Martius, right?”

He lifts his head and beams at you. You’re immediately endeared. Again, his smile reminds you of President Snow. You suppose one could probably take over the world with a smile like that. 

You turn to Pandora.

“Is his mother around? I should probably introduce myself.”

Her face pinches. “Mistress Livia has been unwell as of late. She is not to be disturbed today as she is quite tired.”

“Of course.” Your lips squeeze shut for a few seconds but curiosity gets the better of you. A question burns on your lips, one that nagged you ever since you got the job. It slips out before you can think it through. “Is this…Is this why the president and his wife require a nanny? The First Lady is sick?”

Pandora glowers at you. You flinch as she steps further inside the room, her searing tone like a whip.

“You are here to do your job, and nothing else. Mistress Livia’s health is no concern of yours. Do you hear me?”

You rise on shaky feet. You forgot yourself.

“I-I understand. I’m sorry I asked.”

“This reminds me. You have to sign this,” she says, handing you a pen and clipboard. A thin stack of papers are attached to the clipboard. The front page spells ‘Non-Disclosure Agreement’ in bold letters at the very top. You scowl as you flip through the pages.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a contract, one signed by every one of the President’s employees.”

“I don’t understand most of what’s written here…”

A frustrated exhale peals from her lips.

“I’ll make it simple for you then. For the duration of your employment here, nothing you see or hear must ever leave this house. You are here to care for the young master, that is all. Nothing else should concern you. Is that clear enough?”

You swallow thickly. It doesn’t sound hard at all. Discretion is essential in every job, isn’t it? But the way Pandora makes it sound, you’d assume there are bodies buried beneath the Snows’ estate. You’d laugh if her death stare weren’t so disquieting.

You peruse the contract, perplexed by most of the legal mumbo jumbo filling the pages. None of it rings any bell. You understand the gist of it however. You must preserve the president and his wife’s privacy. While you don’t know the specifics of the first lady’s condition, her public appearances have been few and far between in the last few years.

She used to be the envy of every woman in the Capitol. Beautiful, young and married to the dashing President Snow.

She was a fairytale princess come to life.

Then their son Martius was born. And when they held him up from the balcony of their mansion for all of Panem to gaze upon, they truly seemed like the perfect family.

Until one day, Livia Cardew simply…vanished.

She was noticeably absent from all the events of the season, some she even hosted herself. Tongues wagged of course, rumors and wild theories spreading like wildfire. 

But no one knew the truth of what had happened to her.

The matter seems delicate. You promise yourself not to bring it up again.

You click the pen and scribble your name at the bottom of the very last page.

“I’ve…never signed a contract like that before starting a job.”

Pandora lets out a wry chuckle.

“Well, you’ve never worked for President Snow.”

As promised, you quit your two other jobs to focus solely on Martius. You’re hesitant at first. Your departed parents taught you never to put all your eggs in one basket. And it’s exactly what you’d be doing by trusting the Snows. But when you receive your first paycheck, long before the end of the week, every qualm you had fades. It’s more money than you’ve ever had, more money than you expected. Rent isn’t an issue anymore. Neither is food.

Besides, gifts keep coming from the estate. Clothes mostly, for both you and Laertes, but also jewelry, perfume and other fancy things you don’t need. Overwhelmed by President Snow’s generosity, you try to send some of it back, but you don’t have the heart to return everything when you see your brother’s happy face when he opens his wardrobe one day.

You’ve caught the self-conscious glimpses he casts at his classmates sometimes, when not wearing the Academy uniform. Their clothes are always brand new and custom, perfectly tailored while his are stitched back together by your clumsy hands whenever they fray at the seams. You’re not a seamstress but you’ve always done your best. But you know your best doesn’t compare to the access and privilege those kids have.

Other than those blessings, your time with Martius has been a breeze. Only hazy memories of your brother as a toddler linger in your mind, but you don’t recall him ever being as sweet and calm as the little boy is.

It hardly feels like work, caring for the small child. You spend the day playing along with his games, reading stories to him and, as the day nears its end, the two of you feed the ducks in the massive pond behind the mansion. He even gives them names and gets upset when they fight with each other. 

“Lily doesn’t like James anymore,” he whispers to you one day, a sullen pout scrunching his tiny features. 

“And why is that?”

“I think she’s angry that he steals her food.”

You chuckle and ruffle his golden locks. The little boy always has a story for everything he sees. At all times, his world must make sense. So if he cannot find a reason to explain what fills his gaze, he’ll weave a tale that matches it. His stories are each more wild than the other and he sometimes utters words you’ve never heard a four year old use.

But you surmise it is expected from the son of the president. When he isn’t with you, the little boy is often with his private tutor. Even at his tender age, the importance of manners and eloquence is impressed upon him.

Martius tugs at your skirt when you make your way to the door. You look down. His blue eyes are pleading. 

“You’re leaving again?”

You heave out a long exhale. The little boy wasn’t so clingy before but with your bond growing, he’s been expressing more sadness from watching you go at the end of every day. 

You hunker down to his level.

“My little brother’s expecting me.”

His forehead puckers. “Stay…”

“I told you before, Martius. I have a brother. He’ll miss me if I’m not here.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, giving a begrudging nod. Tears already swim in his eyes though. Panic flows through you. You didn’t want to upset him. You pick him up and bounce with him in your arms to try to soothe him.

“Oh, no. Don’t cry, sweetie.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, nearly squeezing you to death when he wraps his arms around your neck. His loud, tearful sobs swell in the room. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow like always, okay? So I need you to be brave for me.” His grip on you loosens as he sniffles. You put him down and the two of you pinky promise that you’ll return. Your heart twists at the sight of his tear-stained little face. 

You give his hair one last affectionate pat before rushing outside. If you stay, he might throw another tantrum. No matter what, you can never get mad at Martius. He’s just a child. In the absence of his mother, he’s bound to grow attached to any woman filling a role adjacent to hers. You loathe that you’re taking those moments from the first lady. Though it pleases you to have a steady job and spend time with the sweet boy, it feels wrong that she isn’t there. She should get to see her baby grow up. She should hear his inane ramblings and eccentric stories.

As time wears on, you’re dying to meet her and tell her about Martius. Is she truly so sick that she can’t even see him for a mere few minutes? You’re itching to break the rules and visit the west wing of the mansion. Sometimes you hear blood-curdling  screams and wailing coming from the dark halls but you never dared venture through them. You know that if you did, Pandora would crucify you.

Laertes’ well-being matters more than your curiosity.

Humming absently, you halt in your tracks in the middle of a hallway. Confusion has you blinking. A peculiar noise bounces faintly against the walls. Your gaze drifts sideways, where the noise seems to come from. You’re clocking out. Whatever’s going on in the house isn’t any of your business at this hour.

But what if someone needs help? What if it’s something bad? You’d feel awful if you learnt something happened the next day and you pretended to ignore it. So you gingerly approach the wall. Your fingers graze the tapestry covering it. 

Your eyes widen when the wall moves, a tiny crack forming in it.

Your eyes bulge. It’s an ajar door, you realize. A secret door one wouldn’t notice if they weren’t aware it was there. Light spills from the slight opening.

Confining your breath, you bend over the crack in the wall to get a glimpse of what’s behind it. 

The vision crowding your sight makes the blood in your veins freeze. 

President Snow rutting into a maid with his pants down to his ankles. His usually neat blonde locks are tousled, a few damp curls kissing his forehead. His massive cock glistens with the girl’s essence, disappearing into the girl’s spread lips over and over again. Her body is bent over the railing of the bed and her maid outfit is bunched around her hips, exposing her ass, the flesh trembling with each of the president’s harsh, pointed thrust.

Each time he snaps his hips he draws a broken moan from her. One of his hands is around the back of her throat while the other’s on the small of her back. He grunts low in his throat as she clenches around him, thrusting into her even faster than before. 

The obscene sound of their coupling rises, coalescing with the feral grunts spilling from the president’s mouth. In that moment, he’s not the poised gentleman you’re used to seeing, he is an animal in rut chasing his high.

A shocked exhale escapes your lips. Your hand flies to cover your mouth. President Snow’s head snaps up, his gaze landing straight on you.

Your heart slams against your ribcage.

You jump back from the door and push the secret door closed. You dart across the hallway, determined to find the exit as quickly as you can. You don’t glance back, your steps hasty and panicked. 

Pandora was right. It’s best not not to hear or see anything, to become a tomb in which secrets are buried.

You can only hope he didn’t recognize you through the tiny crack in the door. 

Though you’re shaken to your core, you continue your work as a nanny. You still need money. You may have set aside everything you made thus far, but it will only sustain you and your brother for a month or two. Besides, you’ve already handed in your resignation for your other jobs.  The positions have likely been filled. You can’t exactly show up out of the blue and ask for your former job back. 

No. So you convince yourself that it’s alright. You have a good thing going anyway. You’re making more than you hoped. The child is happy. You’re happy. All is well. Or it would be at least.

…If you could conjure the memory of President Snow railing into the maid far away from your mind. 

You want to forget it, bury the moment so deep in the abyss of your thoughts, it can never be unearthed.

But it isn’t so easy. Because every time your mind wanders even a little, you see him again. Skin glistening with sweat and blue eyes alight with lust. The image is tattooed into your brain. 

You wonder if the first lady knows. Perhaps it’s why she’s hiding away. The weight of her husband’s indiscretions may have grown too heavy to carry. It sours your heart. President Snow seemed so kind, good and noble. He was nice to you. You still have the breast pocket he gave you tucked away in a drawer. You loathe to think he’d do that to his wife. No woman deserves this.

You lift your head when your name is uttered. You get to your feet. Adrift in your thoughts, you didn’t realize Pandora was in the nursery. 

“Yes?”

“The president wants to see you in his office.”

Dread wrenches your gut. It’s exactly what you feared. Does he know? Did he see you? Your pulse picks up. What other reason would there be? He never summoned you before.

“Really, why?”

“He didn’t say, but I’m assuming it’s to congratulate you.”

Befuddlement wrinkles your forehead. “Congratulate me?”

Pandora heaves out a weary sigh. “Well, you’ve done much better than we thought,” she begrudgingly admits. “The young master smiles all the time.” She rolls her eyes. “Even if we must deal with his tantrums when you leave.”

A sliver of pride flutters through you with her admission. Pandora made her doubts about your capabilities plain and obvious from the beginning. It gladdens you that you may have changed her mind a little. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” She turns to him, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “It’s a small price to pay for his happiness.”

Your smile vanishes as she adds, “Now let me escort you to the president’s office. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you trail behind her. The entire trek to the president’s office, your stomach’s in knots. You keep wondering if it’s the day you’ll lose your job for being too nosy. You should have walked past the noise. You shouldn’t have peeked. 

You inhale a lungful of nerve as Pandora opens the door to his office and frees room for you to enter. Your clammy hands wrench in your lap. He’s sitting behind his desk. You stagger further inside the room as he motions for you to sit in the chair on the other side of the desk. He looks the same as the first time you stumbled into him, disarmingly handsome in an impeccable shirt and pants that flatter his long legs.

A sharp contrast to the version of him that has plagued your thoughts lately. 

His sky gaze follows you as you take a trembling seat.

“Are you settling in well?” he asks.

“Hm, yes,” you stammer, anxiously twining your fingers. “It’s pretty much the perfect job. I get to be around a cute child all day.”

“I hear my son is very fond of you.”

You bashfully dip your head. “He’s very easy to like. He’s such a good boy, sweet, kind, and curious. You and your wife are raising him well, sir.”

He hums in thought. “I can’t take much credit for that. I’ve tried my best to carve out time for Martius…but work’s kept me busy. As for Livia...” He lets out a humorless chuckle. “Well she isn’t quite herself these days.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He places one hand under his chin, scrutinizing you. You try not to twitch beneath his stare, your insides tight with dread.

“Hm, it’s strange,” he states after a minute that goes by like an eternity.

Your head rises. “What’s strange?”

“A girl like you.” His lips drag upward. “Sweet, nurturing, beautiful. Shouldn’t you be married already?”

Your lips part in astonishment. This isn’t the line of questioning you expected. “I-I’m not.”

“No fiancé?”

“No, sir.”

“A lover then?”

Warmth rushes to your face.

“No…”

He laughs, mirth dancing in his cobalt orbs.

“You must pardon me for being so forward but I simply find it astonishing. No suitors? It’s hard to believe since you’re so lovely, sweetheart.” He tilts his head. You shift in discomfort, his attention making you feel see-through. “I mean, a husband would have made your life easier than it’s been thus far, wouldn’t he, dove?”

A long exhale flows from your lips. “I’ve had offers, after I graduated from the Academy. There was even this boy, he was so kind to me.” The memory draws a small smile from you. “He proposed. I’m sure he’d make a great husband, but…”

“But…”

Your mouth dries.

“I know it’s probably naive and unrealistic but I want to marry for love, that great, life-changing love, like in those romance novels my mom used to love, not money or status.”

His eyes twinkle. “Or financial stability?”

Shame gathers in your chest. You know it sounds silly when uttered aloud. 

“I know, I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re not. It’s sweet that you still believe in love.” He appears lost in a faraway memory, his gaze hazing over with remembrance. “I used to believe in it too. I used to think, ‘Who needs wealth and success and power when love conquers all?’”

He chuckles but it’s bereft of amusement. 

“Really? What happened then?”

His gaze locks with yours. 

“I grew up.”

Confused, you frown. 

“But aren’t you and the first lady in love?”

Another laugh bursts from his chest.

“God, you’re sweet.” His tone lowers to a dulcet whisper. “It’s like none of the world’s ugliness has gotten to you yet.” He reveals matter-of-factly, “My wife and I hate each other.” His smile widens at your flabbergasted expression. “Always did. It’s best that way, more…efficient. Of course, there was a time, when we had…passion.” He licks his lips, something you can’t pinpoint flickering in his gaze. “But not anymore. She’s far too gone for that.”

He rises from his chair. You stiffen as he circles the desk, making slow steps towards you. 

“Which is why I must…satiate my needs wherever I can,” he mumbles, fingers lurking under your chin, forcing your eyes to fall upon him. “Do you understand my meaning, dove?”

“I…yes.”

Discomfort flares within you. Tension hangs in the air, so heavy it clogs your airways. 

He cocks his head, lips slanting crookedly.

“Do you really? With that innocent look in your eyes, it’s hard to tell.” His thumb sweeps over your shuddering bottom lip. “Men have needs. And am I not a man, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yes you are, sir.”

He bends over you to whisper in your ear. “You saw everything that day, didn’t you?” Your heart stops.

Flames lick your face as you bow your head. “I-I didn’t see anything.”

His warm breath ghosts over your earshell.

“Liar,” he mumbles.

Your pulse quickens.

He leans back and nudges your chin upward.

“Since my wife fell sick, I’ve been very lonely. And sometimes…” He looms over you, crowding your space as you peer up at him, fingers squeezing the arms of the chair. “I need something soft and warm to forget that feeling.”

President Snow slowly falls to his knees in front of you. His fingers find your thigh, starting to creep under your skirt. A devilish glint sparkles in his cobalt gaze. He finds your center, pressing the sheer fabric into your folds. You gasp. He chuckles at your reaction. He starts teasing you through your panties, tracing your slit and dragging over your tender bud. Your breath hitches as the air around you grows hotter. You grow slick beneath his finger, your thighs shaking as tingles bloom on your flesh.

“Sir…” you whimper, tears welling up in your eyes.

He pushes further inside you, adding another finger, and you unleash an audible breath. You try to close your thighs. He places his other hand on your knee to keep you open for him.

The air in your lungs grows thinner as he rubs your core through your soaked panties. The friction is a delicious torture. Pleasure pools in your belly causing your face to burn with shame. You’re getting embarrassingly wet with President Snow’s attention.

“I just want a little taste,” he murmurs, his deep timbre bleeding lust. “Just one time and it’ll never happen again,” he promises fervently as his lips graze your ankle. You find some relief when his fingers disappear from your drenched center. But your respite is ephemeral. He slips his hands under your ass and tugs at your panties.

Panic widens your eyes. Cheeks ablaze, you pull at the material between your legs with both hands. But he’s stronger than you and effortlessly drags the fabric along your legs. A wicked smile plays on his lips as tears glisten in your eyes. It’s soon down to your ankles. You squeal when the president yanks the panties off your foot, tossing them aside. Cool air sneaks beneath your skirt, swirling over your bare folds.

Hands over your knees to keep you spread, his wolfish gaze sweeps over your glossy folds. 

Your skin heats, embarrassment gathering in your chest. You’ve never been this vulnerable and exposed in front of anybody before.

“Please, President Snow, s-stop…” 

“But you’re dripping, sweetheart,” he states smugly, sinking a finger inside your weeping core, as if to make a point. Your breath hitches. He takes his finger out sluggishly. You clench when he grazes one of your sensitive spots. “Just as sweet as I expected,” he hums, obscenely licking your essence off his long digit.

Without a warning, he buries his head between your thighs. A sharp exhale leaps from your mouth. His cool tongue traces a wet trail over your folds. President Snow traces maddening patterns over your swollen bud causing your eyes to roll back.

You card your fingers through his silken platinum locks, hoping to push his head away. But the delightful sensations grow too overwhelming. You unravel beneath his sinful ministrations, your limbs twitching as the thread of your thoughts comes loose.

Your grip on his hair weakens. Your belly tightens, your chest rising and falling rapidly. 

You jolt as his tongue flickers over your tender heap of nerves. 

“P-President…” 

He purrs against your folds and the vibrations rock through your core. You squirm in the chair. Your thighs quake. Your vision dims, your mind blank as waves of pleasure swaddle you in their tide. Protests scatter on your tongue, replaced by wanton whimpers and moans.

Electricity ripples through your spine as you cry out.

Bliss engulfs you and your legs turn liquid. Shame swirls in your gut as your juices coat his tongue. He drinks your nectar, elation rumbling in his chest. 

When he lifts his head, you hardly recognize him. The feral glow in his gaze chills your blood.

There is no time to collect yourself, realize what just occurred, as the blonde gathers your limp frame from the chair and places you on his desk. Documents and papers are flung to the ground as he grabs your thighs and presses his throbbing hard-on against your cunt. 

He hastily unbuttons his pants, freeing his hard length. He fists his cock and guides it through your wet entrance. Your back arches, the sudden intrusion robbing you of air. He reaches the hilt of you in a few seconds, giving you no time to accommodate his thick girth. You collapse over the desk, weak whimpers leaving you as your walls are stretched to their limit. He drags out of you, his pupils flaring as they trace the motion of his length in and out of you. Coriolanus leans over you. He snaps his pelvis into your hips, each of his thrusts tearing tearful moans from your throat.

When you turn your head, hot tears flowing down your cheeks, he grabs your chin so you’re forced to meet his lustful stare. Bracing himself on the desk, he reaches between your bodies to pinch your swollen clit. He plucks at your soft bud until you shatter around him with a sob. His throat bobs, a look of sheer bliss flitting across his face when you clench around him.

“I’ve been dying to fuck you the minute I saw you,” he confesses, trailing soft pecks over your collarbone. A sinister chuckle peals from his lips. “The way you looked at me with those sweet, innocent eyes…it made me rock-hard.” He tilts your chin towards him, his thumb skimming over your parted lips.

Satisfaction glimmers in his eyes as they flick over your prone form.

“You should thank me. Those boys at the Academy wouldn’t know what to do with a girl like you…” His cock twitches inside you. Sticky warmth spills from him, painting your walls and dripping past your hole. Drops of his seed leak onto the desk. A throaty sigh pours from President Snow’s throat as your cunt flutters around him.

His teeth nip the skin of your neck.

“...But I do.”

After what occurs in his office, you hope to avoid President Snow. Those hopes are swiftly dashed however. President Snow lied to you. It doesn’t happen once. In fact, you begin to lose count of the actual number.

Every time the president finds a little spare time, he summons you.

Sometimes you end up bent over the desk in his office as he pours the frustrations of the day into your warm hole. Sometimes he prefers you sprawled on your back in one of the multitude of luxurious beds in the mansion while he devours you as if you were his very last meal. And at times, he grows even more impatient and simply shoves you against a wall before ravaging you.

More than once, a maid or footman has walked in on the two of you, and you’ve had to swallow your shame and embarrassment.

As you’ve come to learn, the entire staff is aware of Coriolanus Snow’s insatiable appetite and none of them seems to care.

You feel sick, desperate, trapped in something twisted and awful you never signed up for.

But how does one say no to President Coriolanus Snow? The entire Capitol yields to his every whim. And you are the same. Here to bow and smile and lie back whenever he demands it.

You long to focus on your job, to care for Martius and nothing else. Whenever the boy looks up at you with those innocent blue eyes, eerily similar to his father’s, your stomach wrenches. You pray he never comes to learn what kind of man his father is. You wish he’d stay just as kind and sweet as he is now.

Those are the thoughts drifting through your mind as you watch Martius play with his toy trains. Your eyes wander towards the window. Outside, orange and purple hues are bleeding into the sky, the afternoon nearing its end. Your stomach coils. It’s during times like these that President Snow often seeks you out. You’ve tried to run away from him but it’s all a game to Coriolanus, and he always delights in chasing you through the hallways.

Your brows crumple as you note that Martius has stopped playing. He drops his toy and rushes to your side. Confounded by his behavior, you’re on the cusp of asking him what’s wrong…but your gaze follows what caught his attention on the other side of the room.

You fall silent, your eyes rounding in shock.

“Martius. Come here, my love,” says the blonde woman in a white robe and nightgown, her arms wide open.

Time stands still for a few seconds. It takes you a while to realize who stands before the door. She looks so different, more ghost than woman, her glassy blue eyes hollow and sunken. But her likeness is unmistakable. Even with her graying, limp tresses and ashen complexion, you recognize Livia Cardew. The president’s wife.

You bolt to your feet. Arms still open, Livia takes slow steps towards Martius.

“I’m your mom, sweetie. Don’t you remember me?”

The little boy’s fists clutch your skirt as he hides his face against your leg.

“You’re not my mom.”

A stricken look twists Livia’s features as she shrinks. As if her own son just drove a knife through her heart. Your chest twinges. While her abrupt appearance is a shock, you can’t imagine how she must feel. You place a hand on Martius’ back and try to nudge him forward.

“Martius. It’s the First Lady, your mother. Go on, hug her,” you urge softly.

He shakes his head, tears filling his eyes as he hides behind you even more.

You’re stunned. Has it truly been that long?

“Martius-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, Livia lunging at you, her eyes wild with fury.

“You! This is all your fault,” she hisses. She points at you and scoffs, “You’re his new whore, aren’t you?” Her mouth wobbles as she grips her head. “First you take my husband, now my son.”

Martius begins to sob. His loud cries overlap with his mother’s frantic yelling. You cover his eyes, tossing Livia an apologetic look.

“First Lady, I never meant-”

Before you can explain yourself, she grabs a nearby vase and smashes it. White roses scatter on the floor. Stomping all over the petals and broken glass, she collects one of the shards and races towards you. Terror numbs you. You freeze as Livia aims the shard at you, scarlet droplets dripping on her nightgown as she squeezes her fist around the glass.

Your eyes shut as you wait for the inevitable strike.

You shiver, waiting still.

But it doesn’t come.

“Livia, darling, that’s enough. It’s time for you to sleep and take your medicine.”

The familiar sound of Coriolanus’ voice causes your eyes to snap open. 

You watch him restrain a struggling Livia. She curses at him, fighting him with all her might. It’s a painful spectacle. 

“No, don’t touch me!” Other staff members rush into the room. It takes several people to hold Livia down, colorful expletives pouring from her mouth as she punches and kicks whoever comes close. “You’re killing me! You bastard! Give me my son back! Martius! Martius!”

The child trembles against your skirt, his tear-filled gaze stuck to the floor.

Eventually someone manages to stick a needle into Livia’s neck. She instantly goes limp, arm still reaching for her son in her last conscious second.

“Take her away,” Coriolanus instructs.

The first lady’s flaccid form is dragged out of the room. Still shaken by what you just witnessed, you don’t move a muscle. President Snow approaches you, worry swimming in his blue orbs. 

“Are you alright, dove?” He cups your cheeks, his brows crumpling as his gaze settles on your neck. “I’ll have Doctor Gaul look at you. She has an ointment for that.” He caresses your cheeks, smiling. You gape at him. How can he smile at a time like that? “It won’t even scar. I promise.”

You graze your neck. Your fingers come away bloody. Oh. Livia nicked you with the shard but you didn’t even feel it. Perhaps adrenaline numbed you to the pain.

“Dada,” Martius chimes, lifting his chubby arms.

Coriolanus’ face warms as he picks up his son. He tosses him in the air and catches him. Martius giggles through his tears.

“My sweet boy. That was very scary, wasn’t it?” he says, balancing his son on his hip. Martius nods and wipes his nose. Coriolanus flicks his cheek, beaming at him. “Don’t worry, son. The scary lady won’t bother you anymore in a few months.”

A wave of ice blows through your veins. You wonder why the president uttered those words with such certainty. Like a promise. Or a prophecy. Almost as if he knows exactly when the grim reaper will come knock on his wife’s door.

The next day, you hand over your resignation to Pandora. Her expression is skeptical as she gauges the manila folder you give her.

“This is for the president,” you announce.

She unleashes a deep exhale. “You should reconsider, sleep on it.”

You almost laugh. Sleep on it? You can hardly find rest, the picture of a disheveled Livia Cardew crying out for her son haunting your nights. Whatever befell upon the poor woman, you wouldn’t be surprised if her husband somehow had a hand in it. It broke your heart, seeing her like that, her own son unable to recognize her. You also despise the role Coriolanus forced you to play in erasing her memory.

All of it feels wrong. 

And most of all, you don’t want President Snow to use you to satisfy his lewd desires anymore. He took all your firsts, all the moments that should have been beautiful, and made them a nightmare you have to relive every time he touches you.

You respected him; you admired him. Now you can’t be in his presence without dread whispering through you. What will he make you do this time? How will he make you small and powerless again?

“I can’t…I can’t do this anymore. He can hire someone else to care for him.”

Pandora purses her lips and shakes her head.

“It’s really not that simple. The president has developed…a fondness for you.”

You bristle. “I have to go back home. Laertes is expecting me.”

“You won’t like what comes next, trust me.” Her gaze narrows. “No one leaves the president.”

Ignoring the shudder elicited by her daunting words, you pivot and make a beeline towards the exit. Pandora’s voice echoes down the hallways.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Depleted, you glumly make your way to the gates. You enter the car that takes you back home everyday. Your thoughts wander as the Snow’s house grows smaller through the car window. You were thrilled when you got this job. It felt like kismet after the year you and your brother had. A rainbow after the rain. A slice of hope.

How it all went to hell so quickly. You’re still reeling from it. You’ve no idea what you’ll do next. The only thing you know for certain is that you will not step foot into the Snows’ estate ever again.

The car suddenly halts. You bump your head into the passenger’s seat. Wincing, you grip the sides of your head. As you retrieve your senses, you look around. You stopped.

You toss a questioning look at the driver.

But before he can respond, the car door opens and you’re yanked outside. Two pairs of strong arms drag you away from the car.

You take in the blue uniforms of the men. Terror pulses through your blood.

Peacekeepers.

Noting the guns at their sides, you stop trying to resist. There’s no fighting against them, ever. They are the Capitol’s fist and carry the President’s will. You don’t stand a chance. In fact, you likely never did. You slump in their grip, despair thrumming inside you.

They escort you to a black car with tinted windows. Your pulse soars. You’ve only ever seen one individual step out of this car.

The peacekeepers toss you inside and slam the door shut.

Your fearful gaze rises to him.

He casually sits in front of you, his eyes narrowed.

“You disappoint me, dove.” He lets out a weary sigh. “After everything I’ve done for you…you try to leave me. I thought you were smarter than that.”

You twine your hands, sputtering, “I-I’m not the right person for this job, sir.”

He slides his fingers under your chin, tilting it upward.

“Oh but you’re perfect. My son loves you. You’re sweet, dutiful and most importantly…” He smirks. “You are mine. Mine to hold, spoil and fuck whenever I please for however long I please.”

The prospect fills you with dread. He wants you to be his toy again, submissive, available whenever he pleases.

“Sir…”

His jaw ticks, his hold on your jaw tightening.

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if your brother could attend the University, free of charge? A bright young mind such as his, I believe he deserves it.” His blue eyes twinkle. “Instead of, let’s say…end up in a District, his name chosen as a tribute in the next Hunger Games.” Your heart sinks to your feet. “That’d be awful, wouldn’t it? So cruel…” he mumbles, stroking your trembling bottom lip.

“No, please,” you beseech, tears swelling in your eyes. Your brother’s all you have left in the world. Nothing can happen to him. 

Coriolanus fondles your cheek, the tender gesture a sharp contrast to the wicked words rolling off his tongue.

“It’s all up to you, then, dove. As long as you behave, I’ll give you the world. But if you act like a little brat again…” A threat lurks in his soft tone, a glint of madness swaying in his cobalt orbs. “I really don’t know what I might do.”

Chills dance over your spine.

“I promise to never do it again,” you blurt out.

He pulls out a square from his breast pocket. It’s identical to the one he used the first time.

But a lifetime seems to have passed since that moment, the world now so different from what you imagined, and the man before you…even more so.

“Good girl,” he lauds while swiping away your tears. 

He shoves the pocket square back in its place. Coriolanus then beams at you as he starts unbuttoning his shirt and undoing his pants.

“Now, I’ve had a long, exhausting day. So how about you get on your knees for me and make it better with that sweet mouth of yours, dove?”

Hi I just wanted to say I think that your writing is magnificent and it brings me so much joy on that note I was wondering if you could do a eddie x reader where eddie has a crush on the reader and people like the basketball team or cheerleaders keep embarrassing him infront of reader so he gets completely humiliated and gos and hides somewhere to cry (you can choose the place) and reader finds him and comforts him and you can tie it all together with a confession or not but I trust you

Sorry if that made no sense or sounds stupid and you can completely ignore this idea if you want to thank you for your time 😊

FREAK'S GOT A STARING PROBLEM ━ imagine!

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie cannot stop looking at you. not for anything bad! he just thought that you are the most beautiful thing to walk on earth. but will his habit bring fortune or conflict for him? it's terrible that this freak's got a staring problem.

genre: a bit of angst? / fluff

wc: 1. 98k

note/warning: a bit of bullying and lots of curse words lol. and major tw!jason. mfs scary. also, i'm not entirely proud of this one, but i hope you enjoy!

Eddie thought that you were the most beautiful thing to ever walk the earth. 

Sure, his porno magazines had some hot chicks in them, and frequently he would see the occasional actress in the movies that he would watch, but you? You seemed to beat all of them so easily with both your personality and beauty. 

It physically pained him to have this teeny-tiny crush on you. In the few classes the both of you shared together, Eddie always caught himself looking your way. He didn’t know what overcame him to possess his eyes to draw to you, but he knew the reasons could’ve been either your radiating smile or possibly, that bright light that seemed to be behind you. 

Though he frequently stared at you, however, Eddie Munson was not a perv. He could never look at you in that light, well- 

‘No.’ Eddie stops himself. He will not let his mind be dragged to that point. You were an angel graced by God, how the fuck can he even think of you in such a dirty way?

Eddie groans, finally hearing the ringing of the school bell, notifying Hawkins High that it was finally lunch. He heard the class go by around him but didn’t start packing until most of them had left. Sometimes, Eddie imagined what his life would’ve been like if he was in your high school posse. 

Athlete, cut hair, spent most of his time in training or parties. Easily having the prettiest girl in his arms. And of course, for that position, it would be you.  

Fortunately, life was kind to Eddie. Instead, he was playing one of the most brilliant games ever created, with the best people around him. He would prefer that, over throwing a ball around for an hour. With that thought, he would have to deal with the ridicules that frequented him, and most importantly, holding his feelings and looking at you from a metre away. It was fine. He could live like this. 

Eddie’s ears are infiltrated with noise as he walks through the cafeteria doors, seeing that several students have already received their lunch. He began to make his way to the lunch line, expecting to receive the most lacklustre, unappetizing meal of the day. 

After receiving a certain look from the lunch lady, Eddie mutters a ‘thanks’ and looks around to see his friends sitting at the usual table. They seem to already be deep in conversation, making Eddie feel a bit inferior because of his absence. He hopes it isn’t too important, because of course, as the leader of Hellfire, Eddie had to be there for every complaint and recommendation. 

But first, a small stop past the table he dreaded the most. 

No, Eddie wasn’t going to actually stop and talk to anyone at that table, shit, that was blasphemous at whoever cared. All he’s going to do is walk by, and catch a small, small glimpse at you. Hopefully today you were either smiling or laughing because if he was being honest, those expressions look beautiful on you. 

As he walks past, he sees you giggling a bit behind your hands, making him fail to notice how his stride begins to slow. Eddie is entranced by your laugh and smile, feeling as though a higher power somewhat blessed him today. 

Unfortunately, the devil seemed to curse him as well, seeing as he captured the attention of the prick sitting at the head of the table. 

At first, Jason was going to say something, either ‘get out of here freak’ or whatever. Until, he looks at where Eddie’s gaze was caught, tracing it back to you. An alarm goes off in his head. 

“Hey, freak!” Eddie’s head snaps to Jason, who slams his hands down on the table and stands up. Eddie’s heart begins to race. 

‘Shit!’ He thought he was being so slick! 

“You fuckin’ need somethin’?” Jason starts to make his way to him. 

“No Jason-”

“Then why are you looking at Y/N? Got a starin’ problem you need help taking care of?” The blond jams his finger into Eddie’s chest, prompting him to almost drop the lunch tray in his hands. Eddie steadies himself, almost losing his temper at the bullshit Jason was trying to pull. 

In the corner of his eye, he can see that your head was turned to him, making him a bit nervous under your gaze. 

“Listen, Jason, I don’t want anything to happen. I was just walking by.”

‘Yup, yup. Keep your cool. Gotta look swift for her.’

“Yeah Jason, he doesn’t want anything to happen,”

‘God fuck! Why do his goons have to get involved?!’

The basketball player, whom Eddie remembers to be Andy, laughs under his breath, “he doesn’t want anything to happen, to interrupt his serial killer plans. He’s probably planning to kill our whole fucking table just to be with Y/N. What a fucking creep.”

“Yeah, we hit the jackpot? Is that what you want to do? Order your little cult to kidnap Y/N so you could use her in your cult sacrifices?” The cafeteria gets silent at the statements of Jason and Andy. Eddie’s face feels warm, not because he was particularly embarrassed, but because of his anger. 

He just wanted to look at you is all, what’s wrong with that?!

“Hey Jason-” Eddie hears a soft voice,

“No. We need to fucking expose this freak before he terrorizes Hawkins. Shit, maybe tomorrow night we might just see that club of his dancing around a fire. That’s what you do Eddie? Dance around the fire like a couple of pussy bitches?”

“Why don’t you fucking push your head up Andy’s ass Jason. You’re being a fucking prick.” Eddie sneers at Jason. Of course, Jason expected this kind of reaction from him, prompting him to threateningly step closer. 

“Yeah, you freak-”

“Jason, I fuckin’ said, shut,” he pushes the cafeteria tray into his chest, “the fuck, up!” Eddie turns his tray over, knocking some potato mixture onto Jason’s varsity jacket. The cafeteria gasps, but before Jason could give him some kind of comeback, Eddie leaves the room. Not forgetting to give him the middle finger before he made his exit. 

Slightly turning around, Eddie still makes the effort to look for you, catching your shocked face switching between him and Jason. 

“Get back here you freak!” The door shuts behind him. 

‘Shit, shit, shit,’ Eddie runs through the school, trying to find an empty classroom he could hide in for the time being. He definitely didn’t want to get caught by Jason and his goblins. 

He wasn’t prepared for whatever they were gonna give him. 

“Eddie?” His heart stops. Eddie hears a voice in the hallway, not wanting to turn around and witness his murderer. 

‘FUCK.’ Pushing open the door right next to him, he finds it to be the restroom. Not sure if it was girls or boys, but regardless, he didn’t care. Eddie rushes into the last stall, pulling close the door and sitting on the toilet seat, pushing his legs up to hide from whoever was looking for him. 

The door swings open. 

‘SHIT! Ozzy, please, I’m begging you. Please save me from whatever they’re gonna do to me, I’ll listen to Black Sabbath extra hard tonight. I promise!’ 

Eddie rocks back and forth, biting onto his rings to stop his heavy breathing. Slow footsteps echo throughout the small room, before finally stopping in front of him. 

‘Well. Praying didn’t do shit. Ozzy! You bi-’

“Eddie? It’s me, Y/N.” His heart stops, again.

‘Oh no. You’re probably here to fucking expose him. Jason is gonna come in here in any second-’

“I know, you probably don’t want to talk to me. But I’m not gonna call for Jason or any of his groupies. If it helps you, Chrissy is trying her best to calm him down…and I think that she’s doing an okay job.” Silence ensues. “Eddie? I just want to talk to you.”

His heart hurts. Why does your voice have to sound so pretty as well? 

Eddie puts his feet down. Slowly unlocking the door, he pulls it towards him and faces you. 

‘Shit, so pretty.’ Earlier, when he said that there seemed to be a light radiating behind you, he didn’t mean literally. But now? 

The lights above the restroom mirrors flicker a little, but still manage to enhance your beauty. Eddie almost crumbles to the ground, but instead just keeps his gaze locked onto your eyes…trying not to look anywhere else. 

“May I help you?” Shit, that sounded rude.

“Hey! Um, I just wanted to talk about what Jason was saying earlier. I’m sorry about whatever he said, y’know, about Hellfire and you.”

‘Fuck! She knows about Hellfire?!’

“Yeah…it’s not okay. I mean, he’s a fucking child so I don’t really care. The fact that you’re apologizing for him says a lot.” You sigh, rocking back and forth. 

“Well, our varsity basketball captain has a massive stick up his ass, so…I’m here. Apologizing for him because he is, like you said, a fucking child.” Eddie laughs a bit and you join him as well. He didn’t really expect you to criticise Jason like that, especially since the both of you ran in the same social circle. “Um, but that isn’t really what I came to talk to you about Eddie.”

‘Oh shit.’ This was it. The moment when you were going to ask him to stop looking at you. 

“About what Jason was saying…were you really looking at me or was Jason just imagining things?” Eddie swallows his spit. He really was debating on whether or not he should tell you the truth. 

“Well, um, uh,” fuck it, “yeah. I was looking at you. I just think that you…you know, are- shit.” He wipes his eyes with his hands to avoid looking at you. For some reason, you were getting too fucking bright. 

“No! Eddie, um…” you grab his hands from his face, surprising him a bit, “I think, I think I like you looking at me.” Eddie pauses, internally screaming.

‘...what?’

“I mean! I like you looking at me, as in, you know, I like that you take the time out of your day! I appreciate it! I also notice too in class, you looking at me, cause I look at you too- fuck! I mean, sorry, shit…I think your tattoos are cool!” You blurt that all out, shaking his hands as you spoke to him. You didn’t seem to notice that you were moving his hands along with yours, but he didn’t mind it. 

“You think my tattoos are cool?” Your eyes widen. 

“Of course! Who doesn’t? I love the bat one it’s so metal. I want to get a tattoo for my eighteenth, but I’m not sure what to get!” Eddie goes through some more pausing. 

‘Did you just say ‘metal’?’

“Did you just say metal?” Eddie repeats, standing up from the toilet, and you finally realize that his hands were in yours. Frantically pulling them away at the realization, Eddie immediately grabs them back. 

He was not getting rid of this opportunity!

“I did…? Did it sound right? I just started listening to metal, so I hope it’s okay to use the term.” His smile grows wider on his face. 

“Yes, yes you did say it right.” You smile right back and Eddie was starting to gain his confidence. “Listen, if you need any help coming up with ideas for a tattoo…I could always help you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, totally.” His thumbs rub your hands, 

‘Way to go Eddie!’

“Then,” you step closer to him, “can I request that you also be there when I get it? Y’know, to comfort me and what not.”

‘Ozzy? Praying to you has got to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.’

“Just give me the time and place sweetheart.”

TAGS:

@crunchcake @buckwbarnz @bookobsessedfreak

SLASHER

POV: you called the slasher a munch - Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, Billy Loomis, and Stu Macher

"Oh Micheal" - micheal myers x reader