#I feel like it's non-confrontational enough to post now

[maximumzombiecreator]

I've seen a lot of posts recently where people say they can't find players to play non-5e TTRPGs with. As someone who moves countries every few years, I've had to rebuild my roster of local TTRPG players from scratch a number of times. Here's how I do it.

Caveats first: while I've done this in small cities, I have always done it in cities. If you're in, like, a rural environment, you might just not have enough interested people around. You can always do it online in that case. I'm not really going to cover finding players online, except to say you should probably look for communities for the specific system you want to play. Most of them are enthusiastically looking for new participants. Especially game masters.

Okay, first things first, you gotta find people. I generally find I get better results if the search is location first. That is, rather than using city-wide or regional Looking For Group type internet groups, I look for physical locations that host gaming groups. Local game stores, public libraries, gaming cafes/bars, etc.

Being location first helps avoid some common bad behaviours. Online LFG groups often have a few shitty people hanging around who can't find long term groups because they're shitty. They'll jump at the opportunity to join new groups where people don't know them, because everyone else knows better than to game with them. But location-based groups are better at filtering this. Someone who harasses people at an LGS can be banned from the store, but decentralized online groups struggle to handle these situations in my personal experience.

Being location first also solves the next problem, which is giving you a location to play. Eventually, when I have a long term group, I'll host games in my home. But there needs to be a level of trust before that feels safe, and we're looking for randoms, so for now we need a public gaming venue. If, for whatever reason, there aren't dedicated gaming spaces where you can do this, I've had the most success gaming in cafes or restaurants during off peak hours. I've run a bunch of games in restaurants from, like, 2pm-5pm on a Saturday, and as long as you're buying drinks and some snacks or something, and being polite and non-disruptive, it's typically not too hard to get permission.

Now, if that local group has enough interest in a non-5e system that I'm interested in running, I'll happily do that, and it's pretty free from there. Most people who are willing to play one other system will gladly try others if they find they like playing with you. But even in big cities, I feel it's pretty often the case that postings for local games of other systems don't wind up actually finding successful groups.

So, here is the bit where, unfortunately, finding people to play non-5e games with involves playing some 5e. Community groups are always looking for more GMs to run games, so I will set out to run a number of short 5e adventures, each with different groups. These are typically oneshots that I have the option of extending for another 1 or 2 sessions.

I always run adventures that I've written myself for these, because I want my particular GMing style to really come through. Looking for players is a two way street. I'm looking for people I like GMing for, but I'm also looking to make sure they know what they're getting. Especially if I'm going to ask them to play a system they've never tried, they should know that there's going to be something they enjoy. So, these short adventures are full of the types of silly but sincere NPCs I tend to run, the open-ended scenarios I prefer, the tropes I favour, etc. If someone isn't going to enjoy playing with me, I want them to know it from this adventure.

I structure the adventures to give me a lot of flexibility in terms of how long they run. They're nearly always mysteries, but with some active component to the mystery, so that if things drag or dawdle I can have the villain show up and force a final confrontation. They're also structured to have a natural "next thing." You find and defeat the villain, but there's an implied next villain you'll be going after. That way, if the group is working well and I want to continue, it's easy to present the option to the group. But if I'm not interested in continuing with the group, the next thing can just serve as an "and the adventures continue" implied epilogue, and the game still feels complete.

I don't like players just bringing their own character sheet to the table. Someone who brings a disruptive character can ruin a session without me getting much useful information out of it, other than that I don't want to play with that person. And if it ruins the experience for the other players, I'm often out the opportunity to game with those people, through neither of our faults. I've experimented with both asking players to submit their characters in advance or making them choose between a collection of premade characters. The former is a good check for whether people will put in a basic amount of effort and follow instructions, but it can dissuade people who are just looking to dip their toes into playing for the first time. The latter can turn off players who are into crunchy games and are excited about character building. As a result, I'll usually choose the approach based on what non-5e system I'm currently most excited about running. Do I want to get together a group for a rules-light game? Premade characters it is. Looking to run some PF2e? Please submit your character sheet in advance. Some locations also do more drop-in based games, in which case it's premades all day.

As I'm running the game, I'm observing the players. There's a simple vibe check, obviously. Do I like playing with this person? But I'm also looking at how they play. What are they here for, what's exciting them? Are they struggling with finding optimal turns in combat, or do they like mastering a system? Are they curious about the world, or do they glaze over when the spotlight isn't on them? Do they light up in dialogue scenes? Do they want to try crazy things outside of their on-sheet abilities? Remember, later, I'm going to try to persuade this person to try to play a game they've never played before. I need to know what specifically is going to excite them.

I have (always with permission) recorded sessions before to go over in making these choices, but honestly even just a few small reminder notes will help me unravel things later. If a session goes well, I'll ask at the end for people to give me their contact information if they'd be interested in playing again. Non-committal, at their comfort, and it doesn't single out people that I don't want to play with. I can always just not call them. Usually I find I'm interested in playing again with a little more than half of the players I meet this way. In my experience, it's fairly rare for a player to say they're not interested in playing again, TTRPGs rule and there's a DM shortage.

What I usually do is keep running these until I have enough people in mind to run something else, even if it isn't the system I'm most excited about. Probably it would be better to spend more time in this starter phase building up more connections, but after running like 4-5 5e adventures, I'm usually more than ready to run anything else, and if I have to shelve my Lancer ideas because I've mostly found crunch-averse players, I'm usually fine with that.

So, next comes the invites. Now, most players I meet this way will eventually be open to playing most games, but listen: you can put people well out of their comfort zone for their third TTRPG, but you gotta be real careful with their second. Most of the time, the game I'm inviting people to will be their first real exposure to a non-5e TTRPG. If they don't like it, they will run back to the safety of 5e and you will never get them out of it again. So I am very careful in picking the right system for the players I am inviting.

Whatever the new system I want to run is, I will set up a pilot session for it. I am very clear to players that I will teach them the system at the session, they do not need to know it in advance. Eventually, when I have a reliable group of TTRPG people to play with, I'll expect them to be able to pick up systems without a ton of help, but for players that are only used to the complexity of 5e, the idea of learning a new system is daunting. I rehearse the teaching of the game session. It's the only thing for TTRPGs I ever rehearse, but I want to know down pat how I'm going to quickly teach a new system and make it feel approachable and non-threatening. I'm also very clear that this will be a single session, with the possibility of turning into a campaign if we like it. All of this is structured to feel very safe. No initial learning required, no long term commitment, with a GM you already know you like.

But even as safe as that is, you still have to pitch the system. Why should the player be excited about playing this new game? Don't go all TTRPG nerd on them and explain all the details of the system, or use a bunch of jargon. Give them one or two things to be excited about with short, detailed anecdotes to back them up.

"We're going to be playing Blades in the Dark. It's a game where you play a gang of criminals in a haunted, steampunk dystopia. Every session you'll do heists, but instead of meticulously planning them, you start right in the action, and when you need to have planned for something, you can do a flashback scene to explain your preparation. One group I ran this for got busted by guards during an early heist, but used a flashback to create a scene where they had gotten a buddy of theirs a job as one of the guards, and he helped them out of the situation. And for some reason they fell in love with this bumbling goof I improvised to be the buddy, and then on a bunch of future jobs they kept using flashbacks to get him jobs wherever they were robbing. So this one idiot was just a de-facto crew member who worked a dozen different inside jobs despite being about as sharp as an eraser. And eventually they fucked up and got him killed, but they brought him back as a ghost, because you can do that in Blades in the Dark."

I find using a specific example of play really helps get peoples' imaginations going, which is what is going to help them say yes. And that example is tailored to what I know that player vibes with, what it is I think that makes them a good fit for this game.

The last detail about the invites is that I'm telling them, not asking them. It is not, "Hey, are you interested in playing this new game?" It's "I'm going to be running this new game. If you're interested in playing, please let me know what times work for you." If you're asking, you're going to get some "well but can it be 5e?" If you're telling, then they can choose to learn a new game in order to keep playing TTRPGs with a GM they know they like, or they can choose not to play at all.

Once you get enough yesses for a game, you run it, and then from there you're on your own. I think those are basically just friends you have at that point, and I'm not gonna tell you how to have friends.

Hopefully at least one person finds all that useful!

[meidiary]

( 📁 ) THEY ENTERTAIN ANOTHER WOMAN FOR TOO LONG

synopsis: instead of them being jealous, this time you are because of their attention being focused on someone else 🤧

characters: zoro, luffy & sanji!

warnings: female terms used in zoro's & sanji's <3, nicknames + swearing, angst for sanji

mei's note: my previous post had an accidental angsty ending for luffy so i'll be posting a happy one soon! <3

⟶ @ahseyy request: ... And i have this idea 🤧 we had that the OP boys are jealous, sooooo obviously we need that Yn is jealous! ...

☆ "they're just friends!" usopp's words kept ringing in your mind as you stare at ZORO and his ex-girlfriend.. you and the rest of the strawhat crew had stopped sailing, planning to settle a bit on the island you came across. oh, how you deeply regret telling luffy that "this seems like a good place for us to stay in and regain our energy!" now you're stuck witnessing this situation play out, having you completely engrossed in it.

☆ usopp, having a sixth sense for drama, immediately noticed the lack of your presence as a result of you spying observing zoro and his ex.

☆ "are you done spying on your boyfriend?" he chuckles seeing your startled expression. "i'm not spying on him! i'm just-" you see her playfully slap his bicep, earning a displeased look on your face. "why is he even speaking to her for so long? it's not like they left at the best terms.." you blurt out, sighing after seeing usopp's sly smirk.

☆ you know he thinks you're an obsessively jealous person, but you can't find it in you to care because there she goes touching him again! the worst of it all is that zoro doesn't seem to be bothered by it.. your eyebrows furrow as you keep witnessing them smiling way too much, standing way too close, being way too touchy, and the worst of all; they're talking way too soft for you to eavesdrop!

"that's it, i'm going over there!" you utter annoyed, dropping the mop you were holding for the past 15 minutes, having made little to no progress at cleaning the ship's floor. usopp, taken aback, dashes to stand in front of you, blocking the exit of the ship. "are you out of your mind? don't you understand you'll be labeled as the most controlling girlfriend ever?! just- sit this confrontation out alright?" he let's out a sigh of relief, feeling he prevented a major fight to go down, not only between you and zoro, but possibly also between you and zoro's ex..

usopp was right, you know he was, but you couldn't bother thinking straight while you were still seeing that woman being handsy with your man. fuming, you gaze at the two, loathing the almost non-existent space there was between them. "i'm so done," you mutter upset. "please take over cleaning for me today, usopp.." you left to your room and plopped down on your bed, trying to put all your intrusive thoughts to rest.

but of course you couldn't after having seen that interaction between the two. were you exaggerating? was this normal? is it wrong for you to feel this way? this fuming feeling is causing you so much distress. it's like your thoughts are eating you up from the inside. you don't want to feel this way, like you're the one at fault, like you're not enough, like you'll never be enough.. right after that thought crept up out of the darkest pits of your brain, you heard a knock on your, now locked, bedroom door. "baby? you alright?.. why's the door locked-? baby?" you recognize zoro's voice immediately, mentally being stuck between picking the easy choice: ignoring him and bottling up your feelings, or the hard one: facing him and talk to him about your current thoughts..

unbeknownst to you, you unconsciously chose the former option. you open the door and look him in his eyes, hiding as much of your feelings possible. "what?" he furrows his brows, confused by your cold welcome before he remembers usopp warning him you weren't in a good mood because of his overfriendly encounter with his ex. "is this about her?" he chuckles before shaking his head slightly, in disbelief you'd be this bothered by someone from his past. "so what if it is?! is it so weird for me to be upset some woman is being all handsy with you?! and is it suprising that i got bothered even more by you not minding her touching you? is it that weird, zoro? 'cause if it is, please, do tell me!" you blurt out, almost all in one breath, before slamming the door shut.

you weren't planning on letting it out, you didn't want to bother, assuming he'd just brush it off as you exaggerating.. you didn't expect him to open the door you aggressively slammed in his face, so soon. you didn't expect him to, when he saw you leant on the wall with furrowed brows and a trembling upper lip, grab you by the waist and pull you closer to him, so close there was barely anything between you at all.. and least of all did you expect him to grab your chin, raising it so you looked him in the eyes while he told you "if i gave one shit about her, would i be here right now? tell me, if i didn't care about you at all, then why would i tell her i'm not interested in getting back together with her when she asked? why would i tell her i finally found someone that i want to spend the rest of my life with? shit, as cheesy as it sounds, it's true, baby.. i can't imagine being with anyone else except you. so please, don't you get jealous about girls i don't give a damn about."

you send him a soft smile, leaning your forehead on him. "don' know who told you i was jealous.. but you got to get better sources 'cause i for sure wasn't jealous.." zoro scoffs letting out a "yeah, right."

☆ needless to say you two made up and cuddled for the rest of the day.

☆ that would be the end.. but of course usopp had to bug you.. "hey! i took over your cleaning today, so you better take over mine for the next week.." usopp pleaded, with both his hands on his hips. "out." zoro mumbled into your neck, expecting him to comply instantly. "but-!" usopp began to bicker, before getting interrupted by zoro. "now." you accidentally let out a giggle, swiftly moving your hand to cover your mouth right after. "whatever! i will be back, considering this debt!" with that usopp leaves the room, leaving you two alone, enjoying the comfortable silence.

☆ SANJI is a womanizer, that's no shocking discovery. you've know about this fact since the moment you met him. he was charming you up while asking everyone's drinks and then he went off, flirting with another woman on his way back to the kitchen. that moment you learned that this was sanji. but there's also the caring sanji that'd make you a warm soup when you're sick, tending to your needs yet still somehow find away to make you blush whilst laughing with him. in addition to the caring sanji, there also is the determined sanji; whenever he'd speak about finding the all blue, and all the meals he would cook, all the different fish he would see, you could swear you saw his eyes glistening with adoration and resolve. further, intellectual sanji heavily plays a role in your daily life; happily helping you with mundane chores to the most exciting adventures you and your fellow strawhats go on. he fills you in on books he's read, food he's cooked, ingredients he's used, products he's bought and much more!

☆ you could go on and on, daydreaming of all sanji's positive personality traits, but you're all time favorite would have to be considerate sanji.. the way he could immediately sense from you that you weren't feeling like your usual self still amazes you. how he always chooses the right moments to bring you a freshly brewed cup of tea with your favorite desert right next to it, which you have know idea how he had the time nor ingredients for. how he treats you like a princes and tells you how much you mean to him in so many different ways when you feel absolutely miserable. and, oh, how he always knows when to embrace you tightly and whisper sweet nothings into your ear, until it becomes numb.

☆ so with all that, you accepted him being a womanizer, having the seemingly perpetuous habits of bantering with other women. you always wondered if he'd stop flirting with so many women if you asked him to.. but then the thought that you two were nothing and wouldn't be anything else than friends hit you.

☆ nevertheless, seeing his cheeky smile being sent to some random woman, seeing him subtly sling his arm around her waist as he guids her to the dance floor, seeing him lean closer to her every minute, it was killing you, no more like slowly scraping you from the inside, the bottled up pain waiting for you to finally burst open.

you've been eyeing them the whole night, not once taking your eyes off of them or bothering to answer usopp's rants with more than a 'mhm,' or a 'hmm'. "have you listened to a word i said?!" usopp voiced suddenly, turning the strawhats' complete attention to you. "mhm.." absent-minded, you nod hearing him say something, but not comprehending the words he spoke.

"see, told you she wasn't paying attention," usopp leaned back against his seat after pulling up his shoulders, indicating he was right about you not paying attention to what anyone was saying. zoro, being the one seated next to you, tapped your shoulder, earning a "hm?" from you. getting annoyed by your negligence, he shifted his gaze to the direction you were looking in, finally understanding what the issue was.

to clarify your absent-mindness, zoro nudged his head towards sanji and his date. his date, who was sat on his lap at this point, making the knot in your stomach grow substantially. seeing his arm wrap around her hips as she leaned on him was your final stroke, your last straw. it was your breaking point.. you've reached, no, you've long surpassed your limit for these shenanigans, but right now, this very moment you finally break.

you suddenly feel a rush of tears burn your eyes, overwhelmed with your thoughts and emotional distress. you jump up, hurriedly leaving the club room you were in, not wanting anyone to see you in your current state. you desperately search for a private area where you can cry yourself out of this situation without having people judge you. but you notice the whole place is packed with couples who can't keep their hands off of each other, except the balcony, so you shakingly make your way to the cold space.

all of a sudden, you hear someone's heavy breathing behind you. "darling? what's the matter? what happened?!" sanji. he asks you breathlessly, due to him running after you. you quickly tried to wipe your tears away, but they kept coming! making you feel even more hysterical. "hey, hey now -" sanji notices your crying, he turns you around, his arms moving from your arms down to your waist, pulling you closer to him. "talk to me, sweetheart.. please, just talk to me.." he pleads, moving his face closer to yours.

"i- i can't- do- it!" you babbled in-between sobs. "what, darling? who did this to you?" sanji moves his hands to your cheeks, pulling your face to his, carefully. "you..! you're killing me!" he furrows his brows in confusion. once you calmed down, you slowly tore one of his hands off your face. "i can't keep seeing you with others, sanji.. it really fucking hurts! i- i just can't-" you push him away a little, "i can't keep bottling it up sanji.. i'm done.."

☆ he didn't even mean to.. he was just being friendly, he was cracking jokes, making sure she was feeling calm and at peace, he asked sanji to get her something to snack, he was being luffy..

☆ normally, you'd swoon over him whenever he'd be in this caring mood of his. but not this time, no. this time, you were close to glowing green out of envy. you shouldn't be feeling this way, you know that. you trust luffy with your everything! it just hits you in the wrong place whenever he leans towards her when she speaks. it's like you can feel your heart cramp up each time she looks up at him and smiles, receiving his usual toothy grin in return.

☆ she was lost, abandoned at sea by her very own family. at least that's the bit you picked from usopp dramatically narrating her lifestory. is it heartless that all you could think of was that you hoped, the strawhats and you would drop her off at the very next island, wish her luck with her life, and continue your journeys? knowing luffy, that's the last thing that would happen. no, it's not even on the list of things he would ever consider! your thoughts made you feel absolutely terrible. you weren't a bad person, so why were you being so uncaring towards this poor girl who had lost so much? envy. jealousy can bring out the absolute worst in people. the lowest of a person's nature gets drawn out someone. and that someone now, was you.

you tried to stay away from her, not wanting to accidentally lash out. you felt bad for her, you did, but you also how far you could go, when jealousy takes apart in decision-making. so you avoid her, and just like that, you were also avoiding luffy. because for some reason, he was always near her, always. it's like he was scared she'd run away?

luffy noticed. but he didn't know the reason you were avoiding her. he's always optimistic and cheerful, so everyone expects him to always be exactly that, except you. you were there for him, allowing him to have bad days. he didn't have to hide his feelings or emotions. it was a relief for him to find someone like you, someone he lived so dearly, who lived him back just as much. it was refreshing, calming, delightful. what happened? what did he do? was he too much? or did he do too little to show you he cares so much, that he'd give you the world if you asked for it. he'd go to the moon and back for you. he doesn't know how, but he'd find a way. and now he lost you? that can't be true. it can't. he won't accept it!

that's how you got in your current situation; his face was buried in the crook of your neck, his hands holding you tightly by your waist, mumbling something about how good you smell.

you had told him the reason you were avoiding was because of your sudden jealousy. he laughed for a good 10 minutes about how ridiculous you were to think of something like that! but in his mind, oh, how relieved he was that you weren't avoiding him because you fell out of love with him. it was because you were too in love with him..

☆ you two ended up having a picnic on deck, trying to keep usopp and chopper away from your neatly set up meals prepared by sanji (duh)

☆ luffy kept teasing you about how jealous you were and that you love him too much for your own good. acting like he wasn't on the verge of being a crying mess because he thought he lost you ����

☆ he kept giving you nose tip smooches while telling you you'll never lose him <3

MEI'S NOTE: so, uhm yeah sanji's part was definitely something...

... hope you enjoyed!! <3

[lis-likes-fics]

Poison

Pairings: Coriolanus Snow x district!Reader Word Count: 13.3k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, technically dubcon, swearing, post-ballad, mentions of killing and death, violence, technically prostitution, oral (m and f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, sadistic tendencies, p in v sex, unprotected sex, coriolanus snow is NOT a good person. A/N: I started this a bit ago but writer's block hits hard. Reader did not remember who the enemy was...but she also kinda did. ANYWAy, I wrote this based around a song from Hazbin Hotel called Poison. All credit for the song goes to Sam Haft and Andrew Underberg. I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!

PART ONE: The Deal

The knocks which echo off the walls of your house are loud, firm, assertive. You jump at the sound, watching the door like it would fly off its hinges. For far too long, you stare at the door, debating whether or not you should open it.

Who could it be? You don't get many visitors… You don't get visitors.

You stand slowly, the hairs along your arms and the back of your neck on edge. You swear that you can feel your hands shaking. You hold your breath just so you can actually hear what's going on around you.

Another firm knock is given, and you snap out of your haze.

Your feet carry you across the length of the living room. Your fingers brush the cold knob of the door, and you hesitate before pulling it open, just enough to peek through the crack to see who could possibly be visiting you.

Your eyes widen and you fight the urge to step back, both of pure shock and a modicum of fear. “Mr. Snow.”

The sight of Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow at your door was not one you ever thought you'd see. There are two Peacekeepers behind him, holding their guns tight in offense against you.

You clear your throat, looking upon his expensive suit, his white-blonde hair, the single rose in his breast pocket. You force yourself to look him in the eye, afraid to antagonize him and risk any violence, before remembering who he was. He wouldn't get violent, but you would pay for it if you angered him.

He smiles when you finally meet his gaze, but he doesn't bother to tilt his chin down to level it. “Hello,” he greets politely.

You straighten your posture slightly, opening the door a bit more out of obligation more than a desire to welcome him in. Seeing that he is the man who designed the Games that put you through hell, you would rather keep him out.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, keeping your voice as non-confrontational as possible. “Sir.”

He shrugs, pulling his hands from the pocket of his jacket and holding them behind his back. He almost seems taller this way.

“Checking up on our latest Victor,” he smiles. He motions toward your living room, “May I come in?”

You don't have much of a choice now. With a sigh, you take a reluctant step to the side and grant his invitation. When he takes his first step forward and the Peacekeepers begin to move, he stops immediately and holds up a hand. They stand firmly in their place. Snow turns back to you, smiles, and then walks inside.

He takes the time to examine the place before he ever speaks, and you close the door behind him to shut the grunts out. Snow clasps his hands behind his back once more and glances around the room like it's speaking to him. He nods slowly, humming to himself.

“How are you?” he finally asks after you've both spent far too long in uncomfortable silence. “How is the life of a champion suiting you?”

You try not to scoff, bowing your head and crossing your arms over your chest, making yourself as small as you feel.

“Well enough, I guess,” you mumble.

He glances over his shoulder at you. “You guess?” he wonders, raising a curious brow.

You clench your jaw once, “Mr. Snow respectfully, why are you here?”

He shrugs. “As I said…checking on our Victor.”

You hum. “And you do this with all your Victors?”

The corner of his lip kicks, barely perceptible if you aren't paying attention. But you are. It would cost you a lot not to pay attention.

“That's the routine,” he says. His eyes wander around the room once more, falling back on you with a cold expression. His eyes are like frost, and you shudder at the sight of them. He tilts his head.

“You don't seem quite happy with your turnout,” he suggests, his eyes narrowing slightly in a questioning manner. You feel like your blood has just run cold. The anxiety seeps into your skin. “Why is that?”

You clench your jaw nervously, clearing your throat as you shrug. You tear your eyes away from him for just a moment and force yourself to look back immediately after.

Your voice is small and your attempt at lying fails because of it. “Why wouldn't I be happy?” you ask. “I have…” You glance around, trying to find something to point out before you seem too suspicious—uselessly, you already know you've been caught red-handed. “I have...a new house and—and prize money. And fans, apparently.”

You try not to be too disgusted by that—fans gained with the useless slaughter of children. A few months you've been out of that arena. And you still see the faces of all those children in your head wherever you go, the sounds of regret and their deaths deafened by the screaming cheers of the mindless crowd that celebrated you for it.

“I'm…” you take a breath, “all set.”

He doesn't believe you. Why would he?

“Yet you've barely moved in,” he points out, making a small circle in the place where he stands. He holds his arms out, as if to emphasize his point. “No pictures, little to no personal belongings. This house looks exactly as it did when you first moved in.”

You furrow your brows, tilting your head slightly. “You know what it looked like?” you question, a gentle and hopefully empty challenge.

He raises a brow. “I was the one who approved everything here. For your comfort, of course.”

Ah.

“No one lives here with you?” he wonders.

You shake your head tentatively. “No one to live with.”

His brows raise slightly. “No family? Friends?”

You clear your throat and shake your head once more.

He hums. “A little lonely, don't you think?”

You shrug, your arms crossing tighter over your chest as you turn slightly away. “I'm used to being alone.”

His eyes scan you up and down. “That's quite sad.”

You swallow thickly. “Doesn't matter to me.”

“Here you are all alone in your little District 7,” he says. The way he looks at you, his predatory gaze, it makes you feel so small. But his voice is soft, not as mocking as it should sound compared to his diction. “No friends, no family, and no care about the way it all is.”

You want him to leave, leave you alone to your loneliness, your quiet misery. If he is just going to stand there and call you an outcast, you don't see any reason that he should stay.

“Yeah. Your point?” You don't mean to sound so hostile but you couldn't help it.

He seems to smirk. “How would you like to change that?”

You could have gotten whiplash. You blink rapidly, licking your lip as you try to figure out if you heard him correctly. “What?” you ask.

“How would you like to change that?” So you had heard him right. “Be a little less lonely, You'd have money, friends, all of your needs would be taken care of.”

You don't trust him. Why should you? Why would Coriolanus Snow offer you all of this? Comfort and stability, a life of luxury?

At what cost?

“And you're offering this to me, why?” Attempting a little boldness, you uncross your arms and straighten your spine a bit. “What did I do? I mean…” you scoff, “I won, sure, but only by the skin of my teeth. And I'm sure you don't go around offering this to all your other Victors. What's so special about me, huh?”

There's a long silence where he just…stares at you. His face is completely unreadable, devoid of any type of emotion as he watches your face too closely.

Then a smile begins to curl his lips and he tilts his chin up just a slight. “You're right,” he says simply. Then his eyes look you up and down. “Truth is, I lied.”

You don't like the change in demeanor. It's a different kind of superiority than the one he displayed before. “I figured as much,” you reply, trying not to lose your confidence, though your voice does become a little quieter. “So what do you want? Why are you here?”

He tilts his head and steps toward you. You take an instinctive step back. “You're special,” he says. You scoff but he just shakes his head. “I can feel it. I wasn't lying about my offer. I came to give you more than…” he looks around and sighs, “an empty house with no pictures on the walls. As I said…all your needs would be taken care of.” The smallest shrug raises his shoulders. “With a price.”

There it is.

Again, you scoff. You cross your arms and roll your eyes and plop down on the couch. “Have I not paid enough?”

He walks toward you, and suddenly you regret putting yourself in such a physically vulnerable situation. “You're right,” he hums. “You have. I'm not asking much. Truth is…all I need is an assistant.”

You furrow your brow. “And you're choosing someone from District instead of Capitol?”

He takes a slow breath in, shrugging. “You suit my interests. Capitol does not.”

“So I have to, what, follow you around? Take orders from you?” You lick your lip. “And I get what exactly?”

He takes his hands from his pockets. “Shelter, money, a sprinkle of fame. Anything you could ever need or want.” He stops a moment, thinking to himself with a light hum. “You'd have to sign a contract, of course.”

You sigh, a million thoughts rushing through your head as you actually consider his offer. This is the man who literally designed your hell. He is one of the very people who forced you to fight for survival, to kill for it. For months, you've lived with nightmares full of slaughter and regret.

But for years, you've lived with isolation and solitude. He would give you everything. Shelter, money, a sprinkle of fame. A chance to start over, a chance to be a little less lonely.

But you are all too aware of the chance that this could all blow up in your face. This is Coriolanus Snow. He's not to be trusted, surely.

“And if I say no?”

He stands still for a moment, so still you wonder if he'd frozen in time. You have to urge yourself to hold his gaze. You can't seem afraid of him, you just can't.

Finally, Snow lets out a long sigh. He steps close, before turning and sitting next to you on the couch. He leans back, getting comfortable as he crosses his legs and sets his hands in his lap.

“Then you stay here,” he says plainly, shrugging before letting his gaze wander around the living room of this hollow home. “In this big…empty house.”

This big empty house. Your grand solitude.

Knowing the things you know now, you wish you could say that you would go back and change your decision. You wish you could say you'd go back and choose your loneliness over the dark nights you'd sucked yourself into.

You made a deal with the Devil. And you know that if you had the choice…you'd do it again.

I'm not above a love to cash in…

~

PART TWO: Paradise

A week later, you found yourself standing in the Capitol, in Coriolanus Snow’s office, with a contract and a pen in front of you. You scanned over the words, took a deep breath, picked up the pen, and signed your name on the dotted line at the bottom.

Snow gave you a large smile and sent an escort to show you to your new living quarters. In his house. Down the hall from his room.

And for the next couple of weeks, you've been to two separate welcome parties, two other Capitol parties, and six meetings as Snow’s new assistant. You've handled messages, documents, scheduling, and a variety of appointed tasks that have put you in positions so far above so many Capitol members, you briefly wonder if you've signed into a scam.

At first, there was…resistance among the people. There were insults that you were an animal, a bottom feeder, a whore, a parasite. But every person who had dared to insult you had gone missing the next day. No one made any questions, or remarks, after so many people mysteriously disappeared.

And, soon, you got comfortable. Because Snow held up his end of the bargain. You were comfortable, wealthy, made some friends who had taken a moment to get used to you (you suspect they're trying to be nice to you to earn favor from Snow, but at least you aren't being insulted anymore). You don't go hungry every night, you always have fresh clothes. Sure, your schedule was a bit stressful, but that was an adjustment that could be made. Asking for more would be selfish—and insane, what more could you want?

You were, on the levels that counted…happy, content.

In just a few weeks, you had settled in like you belonged. Well…maybe not to that extent, but the work became easy and the needless parties were much appreciated.

When someone knocks on your door, you're pulling your robe over your body as you walk over to answer it. One of the servants stands on the other side, looking tired from the day's work.

“Yes, Charlotta?”

“Mr. Snow has requested your presence in his study, ma'am,” she says.

You glance behind you at the clock in your room. “Now? It's so late.” You hum, “Alright, thank you. Go to bed. You must be exhausted.”

She nods thankfully and turns away. You're quick to pull your slippers on, pulling your robe tight around your nightgown before rushing down the hall. You don't want to be late to him.

You reach his door down the hall, taking in a breath and raising your fist. Your knuckles meet the door four times.

“Come in,” His muffled reply comes.

You turn the knob, opening the door. Peaking into the room, you slowly walk inside, standing by the door. “You called?” you speak gently.

Snow is slouched over his desk, his pen scrawling away at a file of papers in front of him. “I did,” he nods. There's a moment of silence between you as he finishes up the last part of his work.

He sets his pen down and sits up, his back straight as he sets his clasped hand over his lap and turns his full attention to you. “I have an urgent matter I need you to take care of.”

You close the door behind you, establishing some privacy. It must be important if he's asking you this late. He probably needs you to run some important documents to someone, or schedule another meeting with one of the ambassadors that came to one of his meetings today.

“Yes, sir?” you ask.

“Come here,” he says, making a come hither movement with his fingers. Clasping your hands behind your back, you walk toward his desk and stop in front of him. He clarifies, “Behind the desk.”

You tilt your head, your brows furrowing as you hesitate. You begin to take your first step, pause, and then make your way behind the desk.

He turns his chair as you come to stand in front of him, your hands held tightly in front of you. He sits there, staring up at you as his eyes rake over your body.

You shift from foot to foot, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about the way he's looking at you. And again…silence.

“Get on your knees.”

All the heat escapes your body at the same time. A chill rushes up your spine. And once the initial shock has dissipated, a fire spreads across your flesh and you're burning up. You feel like your hands have begun shaking, so you shift them behind your back.

You have to find your voice again, clearing your throat timidly. “Sir?” you nearly stutter, clearing your throat again.

He shakes his head, amused by the timid look on your face. “I didn't stutter.”

You don't move, shocked to stillness. Snow sighs, standing to his feet and moving in front of you. He holds his chin up, looking down his nose at you to emphasize his superiority. You shrink underneath him.

“You're my assistant. You signed a contract,” he explains. “I take care of your needs, you take care of mine. No matter the request.”

You really should have read the fine print.

“Right now,” he continues, raising a hand to brush his knuckles over your cheek. Your eyes flutter lightly at the contact, holding your breath, afraid to breathe wrong and upset him. “My needs are for you to get on your knees and put your pretty mouth to good use. Then I'll do the same for you.”

Another shudder rushes through your spine. He pretends not to notice, but his smirk does deepen. Your lips part as you try to speak, unsure of what you'll say. “I…”

He drops his hand, lifting a brow expectantly. “Is there a problem?”

You clear your throat one more time, shaking your head and glancing away from his eyes, his intense, cutting blue eyes. “No, sir.”

He smiles. “Good.”

You glance up at him. His hand reaches up and grasps your chin. In the next moment, he's pulling you in as his lips crash down against yours. It's a possessive kiss, deep and devouring—controlling.

You have no choice but to kiss him back, letting your hands fall at your sides and lifting them up to his arms. You don't know where you're supposed to put them.

Just as you're leaning into the kiss, he pulls away from you and takes a step back. His lips, still parted and smiling, are wicked. He lowers himself into his seat, his legs wide open and his hands clasped in front of him. “As you were.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. Taking an unsteady step forward, you slowly kneel to the floor. You hold your breath, avoiding his gaze as your shaky hands reach for his belt.

You undo it, pulling open his button and unzipping his pants. Exhaling, you nervously dip your hand into his pants and feel the warmth of his length against the pad of your fingers. You shudder, braving him as you pull him out of his pants.

And he doesn't disappoint.

Your eyes widen and you don't feel like it's real as you hold him in one hand. He's long with a nice enough girth that he will stretch you a bit. You curse under your breath, licking your lips as you glance up at Snow.

He smiles, watching you closely. Suddenly you feel naked. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, not cruelly.

You tear your gaze away from him, looking back down at the pink tip of his cock. You let your lips part and let your tongue fall to the edge of your lip…

~

The soft red light of Coryo’s lamp glows dimly on your skin as his strong hand cards through your hair, balling into a fist to grip your locks at his own need. Your moans stutter deep in your throat where his cock sits, the tears spring to your eyes.

His tongue plunges inside of you, licking the honey from your folds as you arch your back and moan his name. Your fingers tangle in his hair, and he groans into you at the sting of his scalp from your insistent grasp.

His lips press kisses to your back as you white-knuckle the headboard of his bed. His fingers dig into your hips, creating crescents in your flesh that crater your skin. He fucks you in long, hard strokes of his cock. His teeth are bared like a beast, his hair falls over his forehead, his groans are rough with lust.

The crashing of waves drowns you, explosions are set off deep within your body. His liquor fills your mouth, your throat, your belly. It's warm and sating, and he pulls you close to make sure you never stray from his hold.

And through the night, his arms never leave your body, his claws never leave your flesh…

~

It wasn't hard to get cocky after that. The Capitol was lavish, and it had a way of turning people to bathe in the lap of luxury. You slowly began to learn what kind of position you truly held here, and after months of being high-seated in the Capitol, you had begun to sink into your role.

Snow is the Head Gamemaker, you are his assistant. Everyone had to listen to you if they wanted to make it back home safe to their families. With a whisper in your boss’ ear, you could ensure no one ever spoke badly about you again.

Not that you have exercised that power yet, but you could. And Snow was happy to oblige.

After that first night in his room, your lips around his cock, his hand tangled in your hair, the pleasure didn't end. No, it's normal to find yourself tangled in his sheets, to find your head buried between his thighs (or vice versa), to have his name falling from your lips like you were praying to the gods that men had killed years and years ago.

You've become addicted to the taste of Snow, the smell of Snow, the feeling of Snow. It's an easy thing to overdose on.

Should you have been more careful?

Yes. Yes, you should have.

But Snow is an easy thing to get high on.

Katri spots you through the luscious crowd of one of the Capitol’s many needless parties with ease. Surrounded by nobles and benefactors, you brought your flute of champagne to your lips with a smile. A giggle erupts from your throat at one of the party-goers’ jokes—one that you didn't find particularly funny, but you've gotten really good at pretending.

Katri walks up to you, a tray of champagne in hand as she does. “Ma'am?” You turn toward her, smiling and grabbing a fresh flute from her tray with thanks. She clears her throat, “Mr. Snow has requested your presence.”

You hum gratefully. “Alright, I'll be there in a moment.”

You begin to turn around again but she insists. “He says it's urgent. He wants you immediately.”

Ah, then he's pent up. You wave a hand dismissively, sticking to your response. “Well, tell Coryo I'm busy. I'll be there in a moment.” She gives you a hesitant look, and you smile. “He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head about it. Okay?”

She scoffs lightly, turning away. “Whatever you say.”

The anxiety in the air around her is palpable with the fact that she would have to return this news to Snow. She finds him in the same place she left him, surrounded by diplomats with his own—now empty—flute of champagne.

As she approaches him, he smiles politely. “Where is my little assistant?” he asks.

Katri clears her throat as she switches his glass out for a fresh one. “She said she'll be here in a moment.”

The shift in his attitude is so slight, it's easy to miss. But she notices the slight clench of his jaw, the faintest clutch of his fingers. “Did she now?” he questions, his head tilting a bit to the side.

She nods slowly, switching her tray to her other hand. “Her exact words were…” She clears her throat once more, not wanting to recite your words back to him. You must have been out of your mind. “ ‘Tell Coryo I'm busy. I'll be there in a moment.’ ”

He seems to know there's more to it because he bids her to continue. Her eyes glance away from him as she does. “She said, ‘He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head about it.’”

She can tell there's something else he wants to say but chooses not to as his smile becomes tight. “Thank you,” he says simply, politely.

She nods. “Yes, sir.” She walks away.

PART THREE: Reality

You smile a bit when you feel Coryo’s hand land on the side of your arm, grazing up the length of it to reach your shoulder. You look up at him, immediately noticing the stiffness of his grin.

I shoulda guessed that this would happen…

“Coryo,” you greet with a smile. He nods toward the people surrounding you, greeting them politely. He doesn't look at you, just begins to lead you away from them as he ducks his head nearer to your ear.

“My office.” His words are firm, with no room to refuse.

Still, like a fool, you say, “In a moment please? I–”

His smile does not falter, but his voice is a demand as he speaks through his teeth. His grip on your shoulder becomes tight. “Now.”

You clear your throat, your smile still intact but not as professionally kept as his own. You nod once, “Yes, sir.”

He walks away, but not in the direction of his office. You watch him leave, clearing your throat discreetly and dismissing yourself from those who try to speak to you. You go straight to his office, not daring to refuse him again.

When you're there, you find yourself pacing the length of the room uneasily, waiting for him to join you. But he doesn't join you, not immediately. He makes you wait, he makes you stir. You stew in your own anxieties, cursing yourself for being so stupid as to tell him to wait.

Him.

Coriolanus Snow.

He interrupts your thoughts ten minutes later—you know, you counted—opening the door and shutting it gently behind him. He doesn't meet your gaze as he walks past you dismissively. He rounds his desk, pulling open a drawer that holds his personal scotch.

In silence, he pours himself a glass. In silence, he takes a sip. In silence, he savors the taste on his tongue and refuses to look your way for even a second.

You bow your head as you wait for him to say something, anything.

And when he does speak, you suddenly wish he hadn't.

“You're ‘busy’?” he questions.

“Sir?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

He smiles, turning to finally look at you. “ ‘Tell Coryo I'm busy. He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head about it.’ ” He licks his bottom lip, scoffing as he shakes his head at your audacity. “You let those words come out of your mouth?”

You clear your throat as quietly as possible. “I…didn't think it was a big deal… I was on my way.”

He stares at you, unblinking. Then he takes another sip of his drink and sets it down again. He walks from behind his desk, rounding to the front and leaning against it.

“Do you think you're special or something?” He furrows his brow, as though he's confused. You want to sink into the floor, to let the world swallow you whole, to disappear. “What, because I fuck you, you can talk to me any way you want?”

He puts venom behind the word, enough force to ensure you felt it. You swallow thickly, wanting to step away but knowing that if you did that, you would only make matters worse.

“Look at me,” he demands. And immediately, you obey.

You speak quickly, trying to fix your mistake before it can get worse. “Coryo, I'm sorry. I–”

“You're not special,” he cuts you off, advancing toward you. He grabs your wrist, pulling it up sharp and pulling you close to his face, inches away. You can feel his breath on your cheeks. “I own you. You belong to me.” His voice is low, dangerous.

But you've still got some pride left over. And that would be your downfall…

“I don't ‘belong’ to an–”

“You're mine!” he exclaims, though he doesn't shout. There's force behind his words, and his voice raises to a more stern, more possessive growl as he shoves you back. You stumble to the floor, grunting from the pain that shoots up your arm from landing on your elbow. You look up at him, your eyes wide with fear.

I shoulda known it when I looked in your red hot eyes…

“That's what it says in your contract, or do you not remember?” He takes a step closer, standing over you. His voice is low and dangerous, but he has no use for yelling anymore as he speaks to you. “You take care of all my needs—no protests, no complaints. Those words say that you do whatever I want, whenever I want it, however I want it. And if you complain, I take away everything you know, drop you back in your sad little district, and put your name back in the raffle one hundred times over.”

You should have known it from the beginning. A deal so good had to come with a hell of a lot of strings. From the very beginning, he had been lying to you with the idea of a shiny new life.

Spewing all your red hot lies…

He stares at you, his jaw clenched, his breath slowing to a gentler seethe. He lifts his chin, collecting himself as he takes a steadying breath. He kneels in front of you, resting his elbow on his knee.

His voice is a whisper. “You belong to me.” His tone is final, definite. “If I say speak, you say?”

Your breath trembles with a mix of anger and fear as you look up at him, tears threatening to well in your eyes but refusing to breach the surface and give him the satisfaction. Your lips part, though you hardly give yourself space to speak.

“Yes, Coryo.”

“If I say jump, you say?”

“Yes, Coryo.”

His hand wraps around your throat, pulling you forward enough so that your faces are once again only inches apart. “And if I say open your mouth, you get on your knees and drop your jaw.”

You stare at him, your gaze so close to blurring as you sigh, choked up from his suddenly poor treatment of you. “Yes, Coryo.”

The smallest smirk creeps over his lips and threatens the rest of your already weak composure. He pulls you in and his lips press hungrily against yours. It's all teeth and tongue, biting your bottom lip and licking the top of your mouth. You want to resist, but you can't. His touch, however wrong, however killing, is addictive.

When he pulls away from your lips, you nearly seek him out, releasing a breath like he'd filled your lungs with smoke. Your skin picks with red hot spite at the tiny moan that slips through your lips.

He holds your throat a little tighter, not enough to stop your breath but enough to make the tips of your ears tingle. Enough to make the heat in your core grow.

“I own you,” he whispers. “You belong to me. Do I make myself clear?”

Your lips part and shallow breaths pass pathetically through them before you finally respond, a whisper of your own. “Yes, Coryo.”

“I can't hear you.”

“Yes…Coryo.”

His grip loosens. “Good.”

He lets you go, standing to his full height once more as you take in a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as your hand flies to your throat.

You watch his hands find his belt, undoing it with deft hands. “Now open your mouth,” he commands.

You swallow thickly, slowly adjusting yourself to sit on your knees. You glance away as you drop your jaw and stick your tongue out over your teeth.

“Look me in the eyes.”

You do, immediately. His blue eyes, hiding so many lies behind them that they brim with color. “Good girl.”

Your jaw ticks as you raise your hands to pull his cock from his pants, already hard from the power he holds over you.

What's the worst part of this hell? I can only blame myself.

You wrap your lips around the tip, laving your tongue against the head before slipping it underneath him. Stroking the rest of you, you take special care in providing his pleasure as you let your lips suckle around him.

Up and down his length, you go, giving him your hot, wet mouth as he likes it—as he needs it. His hand tangles in your hair and grips it tight, guiding you just a bit to take him deeper down your throat. And you do. You take him as far as he'll go, keeping the gag awaiting at bay as you swallow around him.

I know you're poison. You're feeding me poison.

And when you think you've gone far enough, he holds you down and shoves the rest of him farther inside. Your lungs are tight, they burn with the lack of air. But you just hold onto his thighs and hope he grants you enough mercy for breath.

And when he pulls out enough for you to snatch that merciful breath, you can taste his precum on your tongue. And you waste no time in taking him again, up and down and up and down. Just like he likes it—just like he needs it.

He curses under his breath, holding you tighter as his desperation grows and grows. “Fuck, just like that,” he huffs, fighting to keep his eyes open as your tongue caresses the vein along the bottom of his cock.

His lips part, his eyes shut. He shoves you farther down on his cock as your good work pushes him over the edge. The warmth fills your mouth, down your throat in generous amounts of pent up stress. And you drink it up. Every drop. Like liquor.

Addicted to this feeling I can't help but swallow up…

You catch your breath as he collects himself once more, his chest heavy with the lust simmering down in his belly. He tucks himself away, back into his pants. And as he watches you, you lick your lips free of his poison.

He smiles wickedly, cupping your chin in his hand. “Good girl,” he praises again. You stare at him and say nothing else. He inhales, exhales, and straightens his back. “Come. We have a party to re-attend.”

You stand on unsteady feet, wiping your face clean just to ensure you aren't going back to the party with Snow’s cum on your lips.

He pulls his arm around your waist and leads you back.

At the first sight of you and Snow, the vultures swarm. “We were beginning to think you weren't coming back down,” one of them jokes.

Snow smiles, “Of course not. I just had some business to take care of. Isn't that right?” He turns to you expectantly.

You let your smile widen across your lips as you nod. “Yes, Coryo,” you say.

You can see the wicked beast glint happily in his eyes. Pleased, he turns away from you again to look at his hand, realizing it lacks the champagne flutes each of his guests hold in their hands. He smiles at you once more.

“Would you mind getting drinks for me and my guests?” he requests.

You avoid the clench of your jaw that you long to grant him, instead deciding to pull your smile into a wider grin and nod.

“Yes, Coryo.”

“Thank you,” he grins. He lifts a crooked finger to the underside of your chin, tapping it lightly. “And cheer up… It's a party.”

You give him a tight smile and walk away in the direction of the kitchens, which is currently bustling with people making another batch of the well-loved appetizers and refilling more glasses for the guests.

You pass by the champagne entirely to get to the, quite large, liquor cabinet. You pour yourself a hefty glass of scotch and gulp it down, braving the burn of your throat as you finish it with a sigh.

You replace the scotch, claim a tray, and walk out with the requested beverages. You hand them to Snow and his guest, a glorified waitress.

Taking your own flute, you hand the tray to a passing server and let the effects of the scotch sink into your bones.

You wouldn't call the rest of the night a blur, especially because you are completely aware of what was happening as you continued to mingle with the guests. You kept a hold of your wobbling tongue, and you remained civil and polite. Snow could tell there was something off—and of course he knew what it was—but you hadn't embarrassed him yet, so he let it slide.

And that night, when the guests took their leave and the party came to a close, you met Snow in his bedroom once more so he could more thoroughly remind you of who you belonged to.

And like the addict you are, you happily obliged.

~

PART FOUR: Lap Dog

You made sure not to forget your place again.

Weeks turned to months, months turned to years, and you were still seated at Snow's right hand as he climbed the ladder, dragging you along through the journey. You did everything for him, anything for him. That was your job. Whatever he asks of you is considered done as soon as the request passes his lips. Whatever he wants, whenever he wants, however he wants. No matter what.

You sold your soul to the Devil, and you were addicted to the madness of your deal.

“I need you to give this to Snow.”

You're stopped in the middle of the hall by some woman with a stack of files in her arms. She's got a smug face, and you immediately don't like her as she grabs the file at the top of her stack and thrusts it out toward you.

You sigh, taking it as you begin to flip it open. “What is it?”

She pinches the top corner closed, shaking her head. “It's not your business to know, is it?”

You scoff, smiling as you tilt your chin up. The same way Snow does when he wants to stress his rank over another person's head. “Actually,” you wave her hand away from you, “as President Snow's assistant, it is my job to know anything and everything about what goes to and from his desk.” You take a step toward her, looking down on her just as he would. “So I ask again, what is it?”

There's a long pause as she stares at you, her eyes dark with the hatred and prejudice that bleeds from her gaze. Capitol taking orders from District? It's unheard of…

You would think, since you've been here so long, that they'd learn that you rank higher than they ever will. They don't have to like you, but whether they like it or not, they have to listen to you.

It wasn't hard to become cocky, but cocky was something you learned. This woman, whoever she was, was born with it. And that was a plague that would be the end of her.

She huffs quietly. “It's the request he made for some documents.” Your brow furrows slightly. A mistake. Now she believes she knows something you don't. Now she believes she has the upper hand. Her tone betrays her. “Something about the Games’ Victors.”

You don't know what this is. You've heard nothing of the sort.

But she keeps saying “something”. You want specifics. Does she not have it? “You don't know?”

“Of course I know,” she lays a delicate hand over her delicate chest. For a moment, you wonder if she's ever had to do any kind of work (you know she hasn't). She wouldn't last a second…

“And I'd elaborate,” she continues, pulling you from your thoughts, “but I, quite frankly, don't want to tell you, and you probably couldn't read it to figure it out for yourself.” Your jaw tenses at her unfounded insult. You don't respond. “I mean, that's why you want me to explain it to you, isn't it?”

I got so good at being untrue.

You sigh forcefully, a long, deep sigh to try and control yourself. “Excuse me?” Does she truly dare to challenge you in such a way?

“You heard me,” she replies, unblinking.

Clearly, she thinks you're an idiot. A stupid, incompetent idiot. You want to take her words and shove them back down her throat. You want to grab her by the hair and drag her around like the dog she seems to think you are.

But you can't. You must remain civil, so the only way you can try to hurt her is through your words.

You don't need trouble with Snow for embarrassing him…

“Ah,” you scoff, lifting your chin again to keep your superiority. “So you're stupid?”

The blatant insult has her clutching her pearls. Obviously, she wasn't expecting that kind of bluntness from you.

You smirk at her reaction, no longer collected. You have the upper hand once more.

“You really think it's a good idea to talk to me like that? Me? President Snow's second hand?” You don't love playing that card, but it's a play that will almost always work for you.

No one would dare object to President Snow.

She hums, trying to seem unphased. “You're right,” she says, “I probably shouldn’t speak to Coriolanus Snow’s little pup like that.” Her face contorts into one of mocking sorrow, her lip jutting out and her brows furrowing. “She might get sad and go tell her master on me.”

Little pup. Little pup.

Flashes of late nights spent in Coryo’s room, nights where his stress gets the better of him and he decides to take it out on you, nights where he spanks you and calls you names and takes you hard and rough, cross behind your eyes. “My dumb little girl, my pathetic little whore, my pitiful little pup.”

And you would let him, you would encourage him. You would moan and writhe and bend to his will. And your fists tighten at the memory. They clench with rage and regret and the desire to be more than an animal.

You aren't an animal, you are a human fucking being.

I got so good at telling you what you wanna hear. I disassociate, disappear.

Baring your teeth and losing composure, you huff. You're seething as you speak. “I am not his pup.”

She chuckles, finally striking a nerve as she lifts her brows. “Aren't you? His little lap dog.” She puts emphasis on each word, ensuring the ‘G’ hurts. She walks toward you, but you don't move. You stand your ground. You aren't scared of her.

You're going to fucking kill her.

Foolishly, she continues on. “You think just because you won the Games and he decided to take pity on you, that gives you any real power?”

You scoff. Pity. He doesn't know the meaning of the word.

“You're his whore,” she spits. It doesn't anger you because it's true, it angers you because no one even knows about that part of your deal, and she's accusing you of being a whore because of who you are.

Her face is inches from yours, her voice trying to be lower, though it's so naturally snooty that it's hard to reach that threatening level. She sounds like a child. And her sneer makes you want to treat her like one.

“You're a fucking slut. Just a little District animal who got lucky.”

Your anger flares. You grit your teeth. You lower your voice, successfully, and nearly growl.

“You wanna say that again?”

She smirks wickedly. “You are a whore.”

You walk toward her. She's standing so close that she is forced to step back with the stutter of her heels scraping the floor.

“You forget,” your lips turn in a venomous smile, fueled by rage and violent tendencies you're trying your best to hold back, “I fucking won the Games. I killed tributes with my bare hands, and you want to challenge me?”

And you see the flash of fear behind her eyes at the reminder, though she tries to hide it. But you know fear. You've felt it slice your flesh, you've used it to slice other's flesh. You know the biting and the tearing and the clawing of fear, and you can see it clear in her eyes even as she tries so hard to hide it.

Being afraid is the smartest thing she's done since she decided to open her mouth.

“You aren't going to do anything,” she says, as a defense more than an accusation, a reassurance for herself more than a taunt for you. “You'll just tuck tail and run to master–”

You're done being civil. You're done rolling over and showing your belly. You're done bowing your head and taking orders.

If they are going to treat you like an animal, you'll behave like one.

And she meets the blunt end of your rage with a fist to the face. Stacks of files smack loudly in a pile on the floor. You clip her cheek with the ring on your finger, and you huff at the pleasure that comes with defending yourself.

Her face whips to the side. It's a full body reaction. She staggers, crying out as her hand flies to her face, unable to take the heat of your violence. She looks back at you, her eyes wide with fear, too much to have room for anger.

You don't give her the chance to make room for it either. You punch her again on the same side, this time letting your fist connect with her brow. And when she stumbles again, you shove her back so she falls to the floor.

The sounds of her pain are loud and evident. But the bliss you gain from them is only so perfect because she deserves it.

And as you straddle her body, you can smell her fear just as well as you can see it. You can taste it like the blood she tastes on her tongue as you hit her again, and again, and again.

“What is going on here?”

You're off of her in an instant—and it's no scramble. You maneuver off of her with ease and scoop up your files once more, straightening your spine as you stand back and join Snow's side with one hand behind your back, bloodied knuckles and all. You sniff, the rueful look on your face taking a moment to dissipate as you replace it with civility.

You are a human being.

You don't look at Coryo’s face. You know it's covered with anger and disappointment. It's worse if he's stone cold. You can salvage this…

The woman rolls over onto her side, holding her nose delicately as she struggles to her feet. Tiny gasps and painful moans slip from her lips. She got what she deserves.

“Sorry, sir,” you say, obviously lying.

Suddenly, you feel like you should have punched her one more time. Because she begins to laugh. It's a bubbling laugh that you're sure is hurting her.

You can't do anything now. Not while Snow is here.

She shakes her head, licking her split lip and wincing through her laugh. Snow finds that more offensive than your empty apology, more offensive than even your savage display of violence.

“What's your name?” he demands.

She straightens up just a bit more. She also doesn't seem to understand the situation because she has a snarky grin on her face that says that she believes she's coming out of here on top. But those odds are not in her favor.

“Ellyn Halper,” she says.

“Ms. Halper.” He watches her, looking her up and down, his eyes strict and cold. He makes her squirm, even as she looks confidently at him. “You're fired.”

The news hits her like a train. She steps back, faltering, the horror crossing her face. “What?” She scoffs, glancing between the two of you as she shakes her head. “She attacked me!”

“And she wouldn't have attacked someone unprovoked,” he raises a brow. You try not to smile at him taking your side—and it's easy, because they talk about you like a misbehaved pet. “She must have had good reason. Clean out your desk and get out of my sight.”

She lingers, disbelief painting her features and mixing with her anger. When she doesn't move, Snow tilts his chin down and glares.

“Now.”

It's here that her rage outweighs her sense. She loses it. “You're going to protect this animal over Capitol?” she yells, pointing at you.

Still riding the high of your violence, you bare your teeth. “I'm not–”

“Quiet,” Snow snaps.

You shut your mouth.

Ellyn shakes her head, her lips twitching. She looks straight at you, sighing. She steps forward, stopped by Snow's warning hand. She leans in, “You're a disgrace.”

Snow can't have such blatant disrespect.

“Pack your bags, Ms. Halper,” he says. “I'm sending you to the districts.” Her horror is palpable. “We'll see who the animal is. I'm sure they would love to get their hands on Capitol.”

Snow doesn't give her any more attention. He turns and walks away, your impending punishment terrifying as you listen to his steps. You huff gently at her, slowly allowing your lips to split into your triumphant grin.

Snow calls your name. Your lips fall. You turn.

“Lap dog,” she spits.

Your jaw ticks. You turn again, and watch her step back. Your lips part, but before any sound can actually breach your lips, Snow calls your name again, firmer this time.

You huff, harder this time, and leave. You try to wipe the sight of that terrible smile on her bloodied face from your memory.

~

“What was that?”

He's pissed. His jaw ticks as he sets his hands on his hips.

But there's enough anger to go around.

Smacking the files on the desk, just as loudly as before as you jut your finger out towards them in accusation, you counter, “What is this?”

He dismisses you carelessly. “That's my business. Not yours.”

Before he can speak again, you cut him off, speaking quickly and concisely. “In my contract, it says I take care of your needs. It also says that I am your secretary and personal assistant. I handle your accounts, your documents, everything—so that means this is my business.” Stepping close to his desk, you lean forward toward him and lower your voice. “What is this about?”

Instead of answering you, he straightens his back and lifts his chin. With an amused scoff, he smirks lightly. “You actually read your contract.”

You don't appreciate his taunts. You read the full extent of your contract years ago, and you make sure to reread it every month to ensure you've memorized every detail. If he's got you on a tight leash, you need to know how much room you actually have to move.

“Coriolanus,” you huff. You wish you could say you won't say it again, but he'd make you repeat a million times if he felt like it. And you would have to obey. “What is it about?”

He's silent as he thinks to himself, contemplating. How does he answer your question without giving you the power and the luxury of a response?

But it's easy for him to remember that he will always have the power. He will always have the upper hand.

He breathes in, and you watch his lips curve. “The Victors.”

“I heard that,” you say. “What about them?”

His smile grows. The mischief and cunning lights up in his eyes. He places his hands in his pockets, rounding his desk as he leans back on it, crossing his ankles as he does. “This deal between you and I works pretty well, I'd say.”

You clench your jaw, unhappy with where this conversation is leading. You shake your head, “And?”

“And,” he shrugs, “there are and will be plenty more victors out there fit to do the same.”

You lose some of your bravado, your anger and confidence replaced by hesitant disbelief. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Sometimes you forget that Snow was, in truth, an evil man. Between your nights of passion and unnecessary gifts, it's easy to forget about the monster underneath his façade of fancy suits and beautiful roses.

He circles your body, like predator to prey…as always.

“I make sure people stay interested in the Games. And people like to keep up with our Victors,” he turns toward you suddenly. “I mean, they seem to take plenty of interest in you.”

You shake your head, your voice weak, “Coryo.”

He ignores you, continuing on. “These Victors are interesting. And some are considered to be quite…attractive in some senses.” He stops in front of you, smiling evilly. “A contract here and a signature there–”

“Coryo,” you try again, your voice trembling this time.

“–and these rich cats can have a Victor all to themselves.”

“Coriolanus.”

He stops, watching you expectantly as you try to wrap your head around his vile proposal.

They didn't deserve this. These Victors have already been through so much and he wants to add more grief and misery to their lives?

You were already lost the moment he stepped foot in your house, the moment you signed that contract, the moment you fell to your knees in his office and had your first taste of him. There was no hope for you now.

He'd gotten you addicted a long time ago…

“These are people,” you all but beg, clasping your hands together in hopes of persuading him away from his sadistic plans, “they're human beings. They aren't animals for you to sell.”

He makes a face, smiling wide as he leans in. “They are animals.” You expected this response, but it still hurts for him to say it so indisputably. “And they're for me to do whatever I want with.”

You clench your teeth and watch him turn away again, reclaiming the file and dropping it into a drawer he pulls open. “And besides, they won't be sold indefinitely.” He looks up at you with that sly grin of his. “The Capitol should be able to have their fill…”

You scoff. “Oh, so they're not just your slaves, they're your prostitutes.” You can't believe him, though you know you should.

He’d done it to you. What was stopping him from doing it to the rest?

Hopefully, you.

“They're my pets,” he counters. He leans forward onto his desk. And he's so tall, that he manages to lean in so much that he can see each little fleck of your irises as you stare unblinkingly at him. “Just like you.”

You nod, pursing your lips. “Okay, then I'm your pet.” You lean in as well, this time. You lean in so close that he has no choice but to shift away from you. “Not them.” You lick your lip and round the desk, wanting so desperately for him to hear your voice for once.

You plead, because it's the only thing you can do. Your voice is quiet, desperate, weak. Just the way he likes it.

“Let them go. You do enough to them, they don't deserve this.”

He doesn't hear you. He doesn't care.

“They deserve whatever I decide.”

Your jaw tenses, your thoughts scrambling to figure out a solution. Any solution. You just need to persuade him, to change his mind. This doesn't need to happen.

But his eyes are so cold, so stoney, so lying. There's no sympathy there and there will never be sympathy there. So you try to sway him in the way you know best.

You drop to your knees, skilled and shaky hands grasping his belt as you begin to undo it quickly. “What are you doing?”

The metal clinks as you work at it, pulling it free from the first loop as you begin to take the latch from its adjusted position. “Changing your mind,” you answer plainly. As you loosen the belt, tugging on it to remove it from the loops of his pants. “This is what you want, isn't it? You're just trying to rile me up to get me to do what you want. I'll do it–”

“Get the fuck off me.”

He pushes you away, shoving you onto the floor like you're nothing. And to him, you are. Nothing.

He doesn't seem angry, just annoyed at your audacity… And then he seems amused. His face lifts and he begins to smile. His smile turns to a chuckle, and he shakes his head as he looks down at you, purely amused by your attempt at persuasion.

“Oh, I get it,” he laughs, walking toward you to properly tower over your meek body. “You think that because I fuck you that I actually care about what you want.” He pronounces the F to hurt, punching it while also saying it with such disregard that it truly shows how little it means to him… Nothing.

He kneels down, resting his arm on his knee and watching you with those taunting eyes. “This isn't about you,” he whispers. Though his voice is soft, it cuts like a knife. Your hands tremble as they lift you up.

He spews his poison without restraint. “You are an animal. And yes, you are my lap dog.”

He feigns sympathy and remorse that he isn't capable of. “You think I swooped in earlier and punished that stupid girl because she talked down to you? I punished her because you're mine, and if I let someone get away with disrespecting my things, no one will respect me.”

He spews all his hatred, and you take it all. “I couldn't care less that she called you an animal or a whore or whatever the fuck else because you are.” It's a slap in the face each time as his voice becomes more and more hateful. “You're my pet, and you're my whore. You belong to me.”

So far beyond difficult to resist another gulp.

You stare at him, your face fallen as you seem to learn your lesson for the thousandth time. You're nothing to him. You're just property, and you mean nothing.

He smirks, standing to his full height once more as you remain tossed to the floor. You stare at him, your fight diminished.

“Speak.”

Like a dog.

“Yes, Coryo.”

Obedient.

“Smile.”

It looks like a sneer.

“Yes, Coryo.”

Well-trained.

Your lips part as you open your mouth, dropping your jaw as you've been doing for years.

And though that satisfies him beyond all belief, that satisfaction is all he needs. “Close your mouth.”

Nothing.

“Yes, Coryo.”

Your monotonous tone falls silent as you await his next command, a dog waiting for orders from her master.

He bends down, grasping the front of your shirt in his fist and pulling close. His face is inches from his. You don't fight him, you don't resist in any way. You let him move you as he pleases, staring blankly at him.

He looks about the length of your face. His smile is wholly evil. “Don't forget what you are.”

Quiet, broken, weak is your voice. Just the way he likes it.

“Yes, Coryo.”

He hums, letting you go. “Good girl.”

~

PART SIX: Addiction

You hear the footsteps coming down the hall and ignore them all the same. Flipping the next page in your book, you sigh gently and pull your legs closer toward you. Just a couple more sentences is all you ask…

Your door opens without a knock, and you aren't surprised. This is his home, you are his pet. Why ask permission for something which belongs to him?

You force yourself to meet Coryo’s gaze, the exhaustion in your eyes clear. He's in the same clothes as before, though his hair is more relaxed and his shirt is looser, the top few buttons undone to let his chest peek from its hiding spot. With one last sigh, you close your book.

You slip off the bed, easing down to your knees. Letting your hands rest in your lap, you allow your jaw to drop open wide, ready to receive him as you push your tongue out over your bottom teeth.

He smirks lightly, his chuckle even lighter. “Down girl.” You close your mouth.

“How do you want me?”

He sighs gently, closing the door behind him and slowly walking inside. “Believe it or not,” he says, his voice gentle, “I'm not here for me, I'm here for you.”

You raise a brow, unimpressed and suspicious. “Why?”

Your attitude amuses him. He shrugs, taking a seat at the edge of your bed and looking down at you. It doesn't feel as condescending as it usually does. “Making up.”

Foolish hope sparks in your chest, but you don't let it show. “So you're not going through with it.”

“No, I am.” He hums, “But I can't have my pet neglected, now can I?”

You sigh, turning away from him. You don't know why you asked.

He pats the spot next to him. “Get back on the bed, my flower.”

You look down at your hands as you rub at your pinky. “Yes, Coryo.”

As you sit up, taking the spot next to him, he tuts gently. “Now, now. No need for that tonight,” he says, closing the gap between the both of you.

You look up at him, your attitude fully present still. “Yes, Coryo.”

He sighs. Coryo sets a hand on your knee, turning toward you. “You're upset,” he says. You scoff. “That's understandable. I upset you.”

You want to say something snarky, but you're on thin ice from today, and you don't need to make it thinner. You turn away, but he catches your gaze as he takes your chin with his crooked finger and turns you to face him again.

And you hate yourself for feeling cared for.

“Let me make it up to you.”

You hate the way you nearly melt. “You can make it up to me by letting them go.”

He hums, shrugging. “Or I can eat you out.” You feel like you might shake at the idea. When you don't speak, he raises his brows. “Unless you just want me to leave…”

He's manipulating you. You know he is. He's been doing it since the beginning. You'd think you had some sort of defense against him at this point, but he's had years of practice in bending you to his will, in getting you hooked on him.

He knows. He knows what you are.

You're feeding me poison.

And you give in. Because you've never been strong against him, not even for a moment. You give in because you're so addicted to him that you'd die without the taste of him on your tongue…

With a long sigh, you lay back against your pillows and spread your legs. His smile spread across his face in such a wicked way, self-satisfied and fully amused.

He sets a hand on your knee and shifts himself to kneel in front of you. He slowly pulls your panties down your legs and pushes your nightgown away, teasing you and increasing your still-there frustrations.

Yes, you've lost the ability to resist this man and his sexual prowess, but that doesn't mean you want to draw this out. It's shameful enough…

He knows this. That's why he does it.

His lips press to the inside of your knee, then further down your thigh, and then right back up. You huff silently, annoyed with his antics.

He gives you a disarming smile. “Come now, my flower,” he tuts. “I may be spoiling you but that doesn't mean we don't still have our manners.”

You lay your head back, sighing as you let your eyes shut. You lick your bottom lip. “Please, Coryo.”

He hums. “I am sure you can do far better than that.”

Maybe you should cry. Maybe if you cry, he'll think you're ugly and leave you to live back in your lonely home at Seven. He'll think you're too worthless to go back into the Games. You could sober up the hard way… He'll leave you be.

But you know Coriolanus, which means you know that would never happen. He'd tsk, tsk, tsk and tell you how perfect you look crying. He'd hold you down and fuck you and tell you to be a good girl and keep crying for him. And you would. You know would.

Besides, if he did cast you out, he would just choose someone else to take your place. Then he would do this to them.

Better you than someone else.

You look up at him, screwing your face into a self-pitying expression. Your voice is small and meek when you open your mouth.

“Please, Coryo,” you whisper, “I'm yours.”

Just the way he likes it.

Pleased, he presses another kiss to the inside of your thigh, and then lets the flat of his tongue lick along the seam of your pussy. A whimper slips from your lips at the feeling, and you let yourself fade into the pleasure.

You forget that this man is your captor, your master. You forget that he's the reason for your nightmares. You forget that he's dark, cruel, sadistic, that he does not truly care for you.

You lose yourself in the fantasy that he is a loving man who only wants to see you happy.

“Coryo,” you moan as he suckles eagerly at your clit, a man starved of his sweet wine. Coryo. Not Coriolanus. Not Snow. Your Coryo. Your gentle, loving Coryo. The man who held you when he wasn't forcing you to your knees and bidding you to be his good girl.

His fingers stroke inside of you, two long fingers curling with you as his tongue flicks at your clit. The stretch of his fingers is welcome, and you look down at his head nestled between your thighs. You whine at the feeling of his tongue, hungry and searching.

His dull nails dig into the flesh of your thigh. As his tongue delves inside of you with his lips suckling around you, you feel his nose press deliciously against the sensitive bundle of nerves, which aches for release.

Circling his head, your legs wrap around him and squeeze, the tension tightening in your belly as he works eagerly at your pleasure. You're helpless to him as sounds rise from your throat like a gentle hum. Again, you whisper his name, lost to the feeling of him. He grunts into you, your body warm with the vibration, with the warmth of his mouth, with the warmth of his hands on your thighs.

“Coryo,” you whimper as you feel your pleasure rising within you, tingling in your legs and in your toes. Your open-mouthed breaths make your throat dry, but it’s hard to focus on that when each breath you take fills your chest with more and more desire. “I’m so close,” you gasp. “Please, can I cum?”

Instead of answering, he just sucks harder on your clit, prying your thighs further apart as he licks you up. As that coil tightens in your belly, your legs tremble and almost fight against his grip keeping them apart. You grind your hips up to meet his face, he holds you down.

You know how he likes it—the grinding, the moaning, the pleading, the strength. And when the pleasure crashes down on you, your clit pulsing against each lick of his tongue as he continues to work you, you shut your eyes and let out the breathy moans he loves so much. Your chest is full of warmth.

I’m choking on this feeling I can’t help but swallow up.

“C-Coryo,” you mutter, the sensitivity becoming too much as your legs continue to tremble. You arch away from him, but he holds you tight and pulls you closer. He forces your legs apart still, not quite finished as he continues to suckle around your sensitive bud.

You gasp when he finally pulls away, satisfied with the taste of you. “What a good girl you are,” he murmurs, smiling almost wickedly—though you replace it with one full of love and care. One can only dream.

He crawls up your body, stalking like a predator as he leans in, his face inches from yours. You bring your hands up to his cheeks and pull him down to meet your lips, kissing him with all the passion you can muster. He cares, he cares, he cares.

He cares as he traces his tongue along the seam of your lips. He cares as he smooths his hand along your soft thigh. He cares as he brings your leg up against his side and grinds his hips against you. He cares as he digs his dull nails into your flesh like the claws of a lion. He cares as he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip like the fangs of a wolf.

He definitely cares as he brings a strong hand to your hair and tangles his fingers there with every intention of tugging you back to see your face. You whimper lightly, sinking into it and pretending the burn of your scalp is just the heat of your desire.

I made my choice and every night I’m wasted like there’s no tomorrow.

“You’re so pretty,” he smiles, and you fully understand the unspoken “like this” that follows his words but you choose to ignore it.

He kisses you again, this primal, devouring kiss you gladly mistake for ardor. He takes the bottom of your nightgown in his hand and pulls it up and over your head. You let him take it off of you. You let him strip you bare as his greedy hands smooth along the length of your body. Tentatively, not fully committed (you would be perfectly content with his lips on yours, kissing him forever under the illusion of simple intimacy), you pull at his belt. He undoes it and pulls it off entirely. You think he’ll toss it away, but it doesn’t.

“Open your mouth.”

Obediently, you do. He wraps the belt around your head, fitting it in your mouth as he loops it behind and pulls it tight. You nearly wince at the feeling, but he’s done worse. He unbuttons his pants, leaning down as he presses his lips to your neck. He kisses and sucks and nips at your throat, and you both let out deep moans that rumble in your chest when he presses inside of you.

You lean your head back, giving him more space to paint your neck in his claim. The taste of leather is strong on your tongue. Each breath you take is full of the earthy scent of his belt. You set your hands on his waist as he braces his fists on either side of your head. His thrusts are deep and rough. You feel his hips as he moves, his slender waist fits perfectly between your legs.

Your moans are muffled by his belt. As you dig your heels into his back, encouraging each thrust as he gives them, he grunts at the way you tighten around his cock. His hips snap into you with a greed that makes you crazy, that drives him wild. Taken by the pleasure, he grabbed the belt behind your head and pulled it in a way that made you look up at him.

His lips are plump from kissing you so roughly, his hair is loose and falling in delicate locks across his forehead, his breath fans gently across your own face. He looks pretty like this. Even with the predatory gaze in his eyes, he looks pretty. You want to kiss him but you don’t. You can’t.

He breath stutters in his throat after a particular thrust, and your eyes flutter shut as you moan at the feeling. He continues to fuck into you, like it’s the last time. There’s nothing gentle about it, nothing sweet or nice or careful. He fucks you to his own need, but knows you well enough that it would fill you with so much pleasure that it doesn’t matter if he does it for him.

And he knows you well enough that the lack of care he has in his thrusts fills you with so much longing that he doesn’t need physical pain to be sadistic.

He pulls out of you suddenly, his breath coming out in hot puffs as he leans back on his haunches. “Turn around,” he orders, though his voice is quieter—there’s no real need to bark with you.

Anyway you want me, baby, that’s the way you got me.

You do as you’re told, ignoring the discomfort in the loss of him inside of you as you sit up and move as quickly as you can with the sluggish nature of your desire for him mixing with your depletion. As soon as you’ve turned around, he doesn’t care to give you time to adjust to the new position before he’s grabbing the belt again, wrapping it around his fist, and taking your hip in his other hand as he shoves his cock into you once again.

You go to hang your head, the feeling too great, but you’re stopped by his grip of the belt. Setting the quickened pace at the beginning, he fucks into you fast and rough. The sound of his skin smacking against yours fills the room. A light sheen of sweat coats your body as the heat fills you inside and out. His name is muffled on your lips, but his grunts are clear in the air.

His hand on your waist circles around as he presses his fingers to your still-sensitive clit. He rubs fast circles against it, building you up, up, up. You can’t help but whine, you can’t help but feed his hunger as he fills you with pleasure. Your legs tremble, and with his skill, it isn’t long until he hurls you into your second orgasm.

You throw your head back and moan, the sound rough with your desperation. But he doesn’t stop. He isn’t finished. He fucks your sensitive cunt. His eyes flutter at the tightening of your cunt.

You feel so weak, tired from the exertion but not fully satisfied until you’ve given him all that he needs. You’ve been with this man for years and the conditioning settled in a long time ago.

I’ll be yours.

So, yes, he keeps going and keeps going and keeps going. He takes you on your back, he takes you on your hands and knees, he takes you against the wall (front and back), he takes you in his lap, and he never stops each time until you’ve come apart in his hands. Pent up with so much stress and spurred on by the fatigue in your eyes, he lasts through it all.

You don’t know how long you’ve been going by this point. All you know is the rhythm of his hips thrusting in and out and in and out as he pushes you down into the bed with your ass pulled up against his hips and your face buried in a pillow. His hands push against your back, keeping you down still. You can hear his breath, heavy with his own nearing exertion. His thrusts are beginning to lose their rhythm, becoming more and more desperate with his nearing release.

You can hardly keep your eyes open. All your breaths have been reduced to shallow whimpers, and as his finger presses against your clit again, a mewl slips from your throat as it pleads for relief and release alike. You hear him begin to curse under his breath, his thrusts rougher though not as steady. And he presses you further still as he moves closer, seeking his relief as it gets so close, he can taste it.

And, because you know him just as well as he knows you, you tip him over the edge as you let your lips part. Your voice is small and meek and whiny, a needy little cry that he hears because he craves it. “Coryo.”

“Oh, fuck,” he growls.

He fucks you hard in the first few seconds that he spills into you, his cum hot and plentiful as he moves himself farther against you as if he could go deeper still. And as his fingers flick at your clit, you accompany his needy moan with your own as you cum as well. You’re blinded by the feeling, left mewling as your eyes well with tired tears. It’s almost uncomfortable and you wince slightly when he presses a little too deep into you.

Coryo lingers there, his breath evening into a steadier rhythm as he eases off of you. You take in a full breath as he pulls out of you, closing your eyes and going limp against the sheets. Your body is so heavy, full of the exhaustion that has haunted you for years, exhaustion that comes with belonging to Coriolanus Snow. You wish you could slow down, take a breath, but whatever Snow wants, Snow gets.

My story’s gonna end with me dead from your poison.

Coryo runs a hand through his hair, letting out a long sigh. He picks your nightgown up from the floor and wipes the both of you clean with the smallest modicum of care. You feel his knuckles brush against your shoulder and you shiver as he lets it graze gently along your spine. He stops it at the dip of your back.

Coryo turns off your bedside lamp, crawling into the bed as he shifts behind you, a gentle hand falling to your side as he pulls you into his body. And you actually find comfort in his arms as he pulls you closely to his body. His head rests in the crook of your neck, your body is pulled flush against his. His warmth seeps into your skin and you let your eyes flutter shut as he pulls the covers over your bodies.

And for a moment, everything is perfect. For a moment, you trick yourself into believing that this man can be capable of love.

But you feel his arms tightening around you until your lungs are so tight that it’s nearly impossible to breathe. You feel his nails, eager and greedy, digging into your flesh, and you wince at the terrible sting of them. He pulls you closer, not just seeking your warmth, but seeking full control and possession over something that already belongs to him. You silence your whimper.

I’m drowning in poison. I keep fillin’ my glass but it’s always hollow, full of poison.

When you can get past the pain of his embrace, you manage to lull yourself to sleep. You rest in his clutch and indulge in the false security of his empty arms.

But your rest is short-lived. Because halfway through the night, he wakes. Coryo opens his eyes and loosens his hold on you. You rouse from your own sleep but you stay perfectly still with closed eyes and steady breath. He lets go of you completely, getting out of the bed and leaving the room with silent steps. He has work to do.

I’m sick of the poison.

Once the door is closed, you’re left cold and alone. You curl up in on yourself, turning your head into the pillow as you feel the dam break. And like an idiot, you cry into your pillow. Your chest stutters with all the pain and weariness and hopelessness you carry with you through the day, through the night. You let it out, but it never seems to fade. And as the fatigue takes over once more, you let it take you into a sleepless kind of sleep where your nightmare of holding love in your hands plays in your mind over and over and over again.

Wish I had something to live for tomorrow.

Coriolanus Snow taglist: @the-nerdy-goddess Tag yourself here...

[yezzns]

random thoughts about hitman!yeonjun

pairings: hitman!yeonjun x gn!reader

genre: fluff (kinda), smut, slighty angsty, non idol au, double life.

warnings: mdni, meandom!yj, brief mention of gunplay, high stamina yj, mention of guns and murder, reader dgaf about her bf killing ppl, reader is kinda naive¿ yj calls reader ‘slut’ once.

a/n: I have 2 more works ready to post 🥴, already working on my masterlist. If you love Yeonjun feel free to check out the rest of my work in here.

MDNI / not proofread, sorry in advance for any mistakes

You first met hitman!yeonjun in a seemingly ordinary setting, like a coffee shop or a bookstore. He was charming and mysterious, and you were instantly drawn to him.

He’s careful to keep his profession a secret from you at first. He’s intrigued by the kindness and light you bring to his otherwise dangerous life. But soon you notice small things about him—like the way he’s always on high alert, or the occasional bruises he tries to hide. You chalk it up to him being a bit of an enigma.

Hitman!Yeonjun is a mysterious but passionate lover. You don’t know about his family, or his location most of the time— you even question why you’re dating this guy in the first place. Until he comes knocking on your door one night, a bouquet in his hand and an apologetic expression on his face. Making love to you for hours and getting you dumb on his dick until you forget he disappeared out of nowhere for a few days.

Hitman!Yeonjun is fiercely protective of you. He makes sure you’re safe without you even realizing it, subtly steering you away from potential dangers. You often find yourselves talking late into the night. Yeonjun opens up about his past, though he leaves out the deeper details.

Hitman!Yeonjun has the stamina of an Olympic athlete. This applies to both his job and sex. Fucking you like an animal all night when his day didn’t go as planned and he has to work double now. Filling you up nicely for hours when he knows he’ll be out of town for a while (and ruining you just as good when he’s back).

Hitman!yeonjun who sends you nudes when he’s on a ‘work trip’. Going back to where he’s staying for the night after a long day of stalking and getting rid of his objective, missing the feeling of your skin and the sound of your sweet moans. You’re too focused admiring his hard cock to notice that in his exhaustion, he forgot to hide his gun in the background of the picture.

But you eventually stumble upon evidence of hitman!Yeonjun’s true profession by accident. Maybe you find a hidden weapon between his folded clothes or overhear a suspicious conversation. When you confront him, Yeonjun is torn between protecting you and being honest. He eventually confesses, fearing he might lose you. You’re shocked and scared, but also understand that his actions were driven by a desire to protect you and others.

You both work on rebuilding trust. Hitman!Yeonjun promises to keep you safe and be honest with you, while you set boundaries to ensure your own safety. Despite the risks, you become his anchor. Your support helps him navigate the moral complexities of his job.

When he’s not on a job, hitman!Yeonjun loves spending quiet moments with you. Cooking together, watching movies, and just enjoying each other’s company.

Hitman!Yeonjun whose job turned him into a discipline freak most of the time. Sucking in a sharp breath when you’ve been getting on his nerves all day, being a brat when he’s already in a sour mood. Throwing you into the bed as soon as you get home, crashing your lips in a bruising kiss and almost ripping the clothes off your body. Swatting your hand away when you try to tug on his dressing shirt, muttering a “stay still, slut” under his breath as his hand reaches to squeeze your neck just enough to make you dizzy— quickly reminding you of just how dangerous he is. Effectively shutting you up and ending the night balls deep in you, making sure you come for more times than you can count. And maybe fucking you with his gun if he’s feeling kinky.

Hitman!Yeonjun surprises you with his hidden talents, like playing the guitar or being an amazing cook. These moments remind you of the normal life you both crave. It’s not always easy, but your love for each other keeps you going.

Hitman!Yeonjun struggles with the moral implications of his actions, drowning in guilt and regret. Your perspective helps him see things differently, and he starts questioning the path he chose, the many lives he’s taken. You both dream of a future where Yeonjun can leave this behind. It’s a distant hope, but it gives you both something to strive for.

Through all the challenges, your bond with hitman!Yeonjun grows stronger. You become each other’s safe haven, navigating the complexities of love and danger together.

a/n: remember this is fictional!

[hisunshiine]

Seven Days Masterlist | JJK | complete

🗓️ pairing: nurse!jungkook x teacher!reader 🗓️ au/genre: non-idol au, brother's friend au, fwb, age-gap(reader is older), f2l, fluff, angst, smut 🗓️ series rating: M 🗓️ total wc: 34,413 🗓️ series warnings: emotionally constipated pairing, reader is older, adult worries, growing older, dating younger, time passing and not hitting milestones everyone else is, biological clock ticking woes, angsty argument, feeling like being emotionally cheated on despite being single, parents with toxic viewpoints, judgemental people, self doubt, explicit sexual content: each chapter will provide specifics, but in general, there will be sex in every part, each one showcasing jungkook and reader in various types of sexual situations including sleepy sex, oral sex (m & f receiving), light bondage sex, quickie sex with one partner not breaking off another night, drunk sex (dubious consent but neither feels taken advantage of), make up sex, and semi-public sex.    🗓️ an: please, please, please, blame @colormepurplex2 for this. It was not something I planned to do, but she talked me into it (she did not have to try hard, let’s be honest) and she is 100% right. This story needed to be told. Leah also helped me create the banners, so if you like them, it’s because of her creative input!  @downbad4yoongi also deserves blame now, but in the best way, for helping to expand the characters depth, and @heathfritillary-blog for her writing knowledge helping me find the motivators and reasons for the characters, challenging me to be a better writer. @mrsparkjimin18, @peachiilovesot7, and @abitjess, thank you for all that you do, hyping me up and helping me to piece together this story! 🗓️ an 2: reader being a teacher plays no real role in the story other than to help link the characters, it is summer break, so school is not in session! 🗓️ series summary: “Leave you with that afterglow, show you what devotion is, deeper than the ocean is…” Jungkook has been your best friend since you met him when he was still in college thanks to your younger brother, Yoongi. Despite your age gap, he easily fell into your world, your life, and your bed. Forced to confront the growing feelings as the pressure to meet adult milestones like your friends grow stronger, you struggle to be honest with yourself. “What you waiting for, better come and hit ya goals.”

Monday - wind it back, i’ll take it slow

wc: 1,741 summary: “Wind it back, I’ll take it slow, Leave you with that afterglow…” Jungkook has been your best friend since you met him when he was still in college thanks to your brother, Yoongi. Despite your age gap, he easily fell into your world, your life, and your bed… 

posted: Monday 7-24-23 @ 9 am

Tuesday - “lemme swallow your pride”

wc: 3,629 summary: “Open up say ahhh, Come here, baby, let me swallow your pride…” Jungkook comes over for an impromptu movie night that triggers some internal angst. You share a little, and he shares a lot... and your angst turns a little green. To change the topic when it gets a little too deep, you deepthroat him.

posted: Tuesday 8-1-2023 @ 12 am

Wednesday - “it’s the way that you can ride”

wc: 4,622 summary: “It’s the way that you can ride, it’s the way that you can ride…” Picking an outfit for a wedding is hard enough without your friends with benefits turning you on. Especially when he makes a tie look so sexy, you can’t help but use it to get him right where you need him to be. Ties make great reigns, and Jungkook is willing for you to be the leading lady, in more ways than one.

posted: Wednesday 8-2-2023 @ 12 am

Thursday - “so break me off another night”

wc: 3,596 + text messages summary: “So break me off another night” might be what he says, but after a day full of meddling parents, a quickie, and meddling friends, some things come to light, and there might not be another night for you to break him off...

posted: Thirstday 8-10-2023 @ 12 am

Friday - “i must be favored to know ya”

wc: 5,665 + text messages summary: “I must be favored to know ya.” Having Jungkook in your life is so much sweeter than you ever thought. It would be great if you could just tell him, but showing him is as good as it gets for now…until you slip up and let the cat out of the bag. But it turns out, you aren’t the only one who has feelings for him, and you definitely aren’t the only one who wants to ride him. When your biggest fears come to light, knowing Jungkook the way that you do might become a thing of the past. 

posted: Friday 8-18-2023 @ 12 pm

Saturday - “i kiss your waist and ease your mind”

wc: 6,323 + text message summary: “i kiss your waist and ease your mind.” The only thing that could make you feel better is the same thing that made you feel worse. You and Jungkook are both confused with your emotions, but two different stories help you both see a bit more clearly. The only problem is that when the two of you get around each other, clarity goes bye-bye. don’t let these soft lyrics fool you; make up sex doesn’t actually solve any issues if sex is the only communication that happens.  

posted: Monday 9-4-2023 @ 10:57 am

Sunday - “i'll be loving you right, seven days a week”

wc: 8,837 + text message summary: “i’ll be loving you right, seven days a week.” Yoongi's wedding has brought up a lot of feelings, but with so many things left unsaid, it's hard to know where you and Jungkook stand. Can the two of you wrap around each other and bring life to a relationship?

posted: Sunday 10-8-2023 @ 10:01 pm

↣ all rights reserved © hisunshiine 2023. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 - 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒 ❞

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!reader

summary: when he comes back from arguably most demanding races of the season, he truly wants to be cuddled up with his girlfriend especially when they haven't seen each other in two weeks.

warnings: established relationship!, mild smut (18+ MDNI), cussing. the usual. typos.

wc: 2.6k

requested: yes | no ~ this lovely request right here!

saint team radio: i wanna scream, this was supposed to be out in SEPTEMBER!!! but now it’s here 🤭. lil one shot before releasing “Break my Soul” and i hope you guys enjoy this one. plus i’m getting used to writing smut now 😧 anyways bye! love ya!

taglist: @non-stop-imagines @lorarri @thisismeracing @httpsserene @mauvecherie-writes @yeea-nah @queenshikongo3 @cherry2stems @planetmimi @alika-4466 @arshiyuh (lmk if you wanna be tagged!)

pls like, comment and reblog! 🫶🏽 (i’m watching you 🤨)

-

"I know what you are." You gasped as you watched Bella confront Edward in the forest. The morning sun was shining its rays through the large windows and sliding doors of the large house. The couch was slowly sinking you into it, the packet of cookies from your favourite bakery nestled next to your comfortable figure.

Understandably, it was quite early in the morning, 9 am to be precise, to be watching Twilight and munching on cookies but to be fair, Roscoe had woken you up for early morning snuggles. Deciding to check the time on your phone, you became distracted by your wallpaper of Lewis with you next to him with the green mountains of Bali right behind you both, flowers behind your ear to celebrate your birthday.

You truly missed him a lot, these past two weeks felt as if they dragged on and on the longer you waited to see him. Only being able to see him on your phone screen and tv, his fashion becoming a staple for you to follow almost every week. When his face appeared on screen for a post race interview, you would find yourself admiring him and completely closing off to whatever he was saying into the mics. Even seeing his car drive around gave you butterflies, just hearing his name would make you stop in your tracks every single time.

Lewis' face quickly invaded your mind, no longer focusing on the movie before you. Although you had tried to distract yourself with giving yourself tasks to do along with completing some work you probably missed, doing those things were just always better with your boyfriend around. Physically being on each other's space was something you needed desperately, a true connection when realising that you both had the love language of physical touch.

During these two week, you would resist the urge to touch yourself in thought of Lewis, deeming him to be the only one who could find your sweet spots so much better than you could. Embarrassingly enough, you had resorted to watching fan edits of him just for you to feel something. All you did was like a single video on your feed then you fell into the rabbit hole of his fans being extremely talented and feeling the way you felt but you would sleep better knowing that you had him all to yourself at the end of the day.

Snapping you out of your daily daydream about your boyfriend, your phone buzzed with a notification from the front gate of the house to say that a car has entered the driveway and you immediately jumped up in excitement, alerting Roscoe. "Come on boy, Dads is home." You smiled to the energetic dog who was eagerly waiting for you to put your slides on.

Opening the front door wide enough, Roscoe ran right past you to greet Lewis as the man was taking his luggage out of the trunk, giving his affection to his dog before standing up straight (with a bit of caution) to look at you standing just a few feet away. He studied you from head to toe, the Nike pro shorts were barely visible underneath the +44 sweater that you helped design. Your braids were fresh, nails done and from what he saw, a small but new tattoo on your hand and he swore his stomach flipped at the sight of you.

"Hey baby!" You expressed as you threw your arms around his neck, his head buried itself into your neck and your scent filled up his nostrils. "Hi." The tired voice vibrated through your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His large hands were resting on your lower back moving ever so slowly, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. Moving your heads back, you gave him a sweet peck as he looked into your eyes afterwards. Studying his face a little, his eyes were a little droopy and his face wasn't as bright as you saw it on facetime hours ago. Letting go of the hug, you moved to help him with his suitcases but noticed that he seemed to walk a little funny as he walked into the house.

Finding him in the kitchen drinking a glass of water, you chose to lean back into the counter next to him. "Knowing you, I can tell you didn't eat so how about you go shower and i'll make breakfast?"  You suggested and all the man could do was smile and lean in to kiss you, tasting your strawberry chapstick before going upstairs with his hand on his back.

-

A hearty breakfast and him talking about how the race went in terms of strategy then a few discussions of random stuff, you both opted for chilling on the couch to catch up on a bit of TV. Lunch was ordered and you two spent the afternoon just being in each other's presence. You then decided to showcase the clothes you had bought during the two weeks he had been gone, each dress and skirt getting shorter than the last with his exhaustion preventing him from wanting to take you right then and there.

Changing back into the original outfit you had on, he quickly changed into his gym wear to work out in the home gym he had built in before you had moved in. "Will you be okay to workout, Lew?" You asked, filling the glass with small heart shaped ice cubes, ironically matching the tennis bracelet you were wearing. "I'm fine sweetie, I promise." He muttered as his eyes trailed down to your chest, the +44 sweater long gone as the day became hotter. "Eyes up here, babe." You giggled as he didn't even seem to hear you say anything.

"What?" He snapped out of it, making you laugh a little harder. "Go do your workout stuff, you dork. When you come back, we can do some skin care." You smiled as he held your hips with his grip tightened. "I can think of something else-"

"Lewis, I'm gonna bite you. Go." You narrowed your eyes at the man who walked away giggling as if he heard the funniest joke.

Nighttime was slowly approaching and dinner was already prepared, finding pesto really easy to make. Lewis was still in the home gym, your phone buzzing with instagram telling you that he posted on his story. Clicking on it, you saw how your boyfriend took a full body mirror picture with his shirt completely off and he looked a bit breathless. The lights glistened on his abs and tattoos, accentuating his tan even more. The v line was showing as his shorts sat quite low on his waist and you were left speechless, gripping the blanket so much that you could barely feel your hand anymore. Rubbing your thighs together, you tried to relax your thoughts by reminding yourself that he still has what seemed like an injury on his back.

But to be fair, nothing could stop him, not even an injury.

You tried distracting yourself from the instagram story by playing some music and doing some online shopping. Hearing his heavy footsteps enter the room, his sweaty self looked at you with a look you knew all too well but you decided to not do the deed tonight because you thought he needed to be well rested for this.

"You gonna go shower?" You stopped what you were doing and faced him with crossed arm with a little smile on your face. He came a bit closer and you backed up. "Lew, get away. You're sweaty." Your cheeks started to hurt from the smiling and all he did was open his arms as he came closer to you. "Lewis, I'm so serious. Babe wai-" You didn't even finish your sentence before you bolted, heading up to your shared bedroom and he chased after you with both your giggles filling the air.

"Baby, stop moving. I can't put on the under eye mask." You pouted, holding the cold cucumber scented applicator in your hand. "It's just cold." He muttered, holding the back of your legs as you stood between his legs. "C'mon gramps, it'll take like 5 minutes then you'll forget it's there." Knowing how he'd react to the nickname, you received the nastiest side eye you've gotten from him. Doubling down in laughter, you held onto the bathroom sink counter for dear life as you continued to laugh with him.

As the laughter died down, you fixed your braids into a bun and put your hand out for him to give up his hair tie that he has had on the whole day. "I like your earrings, love. When'd you get them?" He asked, now standing behind you as you made eye contact in the mirror. His eyes still had the same look as when he came out of the gym. "Remember that one bracelet you brought back from Milan last month? They opened a store in Central london so I think it was Thursday." You nodded as you told him, removing both your under eye masks to then fully wash and moisturise your faces.

Lewis opted to watch you complete your routine as you did like to take your time with it, the scented candles creating the perfect atmosphere. His left hand came around your waist, his other hand holding onto your hip and his head dropping into your neck with small butterfly-like kisses peppering your skin. You stopped everything you were doing to feel exactly what Lewis was doing to you, his large hands lowering down your body with each kiss.

"Lew, baby. You need to rest." You whispered, unable to speak from his soft kisses. "Missed you so much, just wanna feel you.” He whined into your neck. As he picked up his head to kiss even further, you already turned your head to look at him, your face filled with worry.

“Can you not make that face?” You slightly jutted your lip out, his face sending a completely different message. “Is it working?”

“No.” You tried your best to hide the smile from your face, your boyfriend’s face dropping at the answer. Backing away from his embrace, you walked into the bedroom, fully aware that he was following right after you.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you watched as Lewis stood in front of you then locked eyes with you. “Love, can I at least eat you out?” His whiny voice sounded out and you were fully taken by surprise. You had yet to experience this side of him in the bedroom but if it meant hearing that voice all over again, you were all in.

Not even waiting for your words, the man dropped down onto his knees, holding your thighs as balance as he maintained the eye contact with you. “Please, please baby. I’ll be so good, I promise. Won’t tease you, I’m starving. Just wanna taste you.” He rambles, his eyes slightly closed as his voice drops the closer his face gets to your thighs.

You couldn’t believe what was actually happening, so much so that it took you a few seconds to even think of a response. His chocolate eyes looked up at you with such anticipation, eagerly waiting for you to say something, anything. All you could do was nod and within seconds, he began kissing up your thighs, silently thanking the universe for bringing the two of you together.

Between her slight panting, you remembered that his back was in pain from earlier in the day, giving you an idea. “Lew.” You called out, his head rising to stare at you once more. “Lie on your back, don’t need you to hurt it more than it already is.” You said, slowly guiding him to stand up with you then push him down onto the bed by his chest. He huffed out a slight chuckle at your eagerness.

Once the clothes were off, you crawled up to straddle him but catching him by surprise, your lower body was closer to his face than he thought. Your legs were on each side of his head, your dripping core was hovering right above his mouth, he could’ve sworn he was in heaven. Gently holding onto his braids, you lowered yourself slightly yet not fully sitting, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to breathe.

“Y/n baby. Sit on my face, please.” Lewis groaned from underneath you, his breath hitting your core making you slightly shiver. His large hands creeped up onto your ass, bringing you down onto his face with a grip. Once you had gotten used to him devouring you like a touch starved man, you eventually found your rhythm and began moving in perfect harmony with his tongue, slightly pulling his braids when you felt the all too familiar knot into your stomach .

Your orgasm ripped through you, your moans bouncing off the walls of your shared bedroom. When wanting to lift yourself off of him, he continued to lick and suck on your sensitive clit, overstimulating you quite a bit. Your moans grew into whimpers and that’s when Lewis knew that you were beginning to feel tired, your body slightly shaking from the intense sensation of your release.

Now having a bit more energy, you actually lifted yourself up from his mouth and wanted to go down on him as you craved to have something that would give him the same sensation that he gave you. Before you could even reach his hard on, he held onto one of your hands. Kissing your palm, he spoke up. “Can you please just fuck me? I need to feel you around me, sweetie.” Lewis asked, the same look from before wooing you so easily.

You continued making your way down on him until he suddenly flipped the both of you. “Lew! Warn a girl next time!” You wanted to roll your eyes at him but he just smiled and leaned down to give you a breathtaking kiss, feeling butterflies in your stomach once more.

“I’ve got you, baby. Just let me make you feel good.” He smirked, holding your legs to go around his waist. Once entering you, it truly felt like this should go on forever, have this night replay in your mind like a broken record. His hips snapping against yours would bring you back to reality, seeing stars once the familiar knot returned to taunt you. With the way he was pounding into you, you would’ve never thought he had back pain the whole time.

You screamed upon your 4th release, your body flopping against the sheets as you tried to catch your breath. Lewis emerged from the bathroom with a warm and slightly wet towel to gently wipe your pussy, you sucked in a breath as your sensitive clit felt the material against you.

Once fully done with aftercare for you and himself, you looked up at the man as you layed on your front to look at him laying next to you. “I truly love you, Y/n. Couldn’t thank the stars enough for you.” He expressed, the look in his eyes sending a deeper message into your soul.

“I love you so much, Lewis.” You responded and you could feel the love radiating off of each other.

This was love and you could forever drown in this feeling with Lewis right by your side.

[hwanchaesong]

━⁠☞🍽️ Seventh Course: Picture perfect revenge, the definition of the burnt dessert that is brewing inside your unhinged mind. Well, he deserves it though. 🥢

🎧: Olivia Rodrigo - Jealousy, Jealousy

wc: 816

genre & warnings: angst, non-idol au, cheating, hints of insecurity, reader drinking wine, cursing, lovers to exes, etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The Sour Restaurant series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

You scroll through your phone, sipping on your red wine and laughing to yourself. Giggling like a maniac because the ridiculousness of the situation is truly astounding.

It was a magnificent occasion, one that would normally make people cry but not you.

No, you are built differently.

The discovery that you dug made you so happy you think you're about to burst in excitement.

Because finally, fucking finally! Freedom is nigh and clean air will finally clear your black lungs.

You gaze at the clock, the man that you are waiting for will be home soon, and you are so fucking ready for a confrontation.

Soon enough, your boyfriend enters your shared apartment, jumping a little when he sees your figure in the shadows, indifferently sitting there with a menacing expression.

"Are you okay? Is something wrong?" he frowned when you replied with a scoff, slowly walking in your direction.

The entire living room is dark, the only source of light is the one from the hallway near your bedroom. It gives an ominous vibe in the atmosphere, exactly what you want to exude.

"Y/N, seriously, I don't have time for this. I j-"

You rolled your eyes at his audacity, shoving your phone in his face so he can gawk at the evidence of his betrayal.

He is nothing but a mere asshole in the entirety of this relationship, so thank the heavens for giving you a reason to leave.

Ever since he entered your life, his presence always gave you the sinking feeling of insecurity.

Paranoia at its finest, you could say.

It was all good at first. You can even say with confidence that he was the perfect boyfriend. He makes you feel like you're on top of the world, the only girl that he loves, the happiest person on earth.

But who knows what will happen, right?

His sublime image is merely a performance for you to enjoy and hate later on, especially when you start seeing the signs.

Going home to you smelling like a girl's perfume. Lipstick stain on the collar of his polo shirt. Being secretive on whatever is in his phone.

"Must be your imagination, baby."

"Oh this? This is nothing. I'll wash it later."

"Listen, privacy is also an important aspect of a relationship."

Fuck that privacy. You merely wanted to play games on his phone because waiting in line in his favorite restaurant bore you to death. Must he be so stingy?

Stingy because the shit excuse of a man was hiding something.

You have been tolerating his bland show for a while now, might as well give him a tip for giving you entertainment despite it not being worth your time.

"Tell me I'm crazy now." you smirk, victorious in the battle where you have been wounded far too many times to the point that you can't even bear to look in the mirror without wanting to vomit.

You've had enough comparing yourself to the girls that he hangs out with.

Girls that are way skinnier, comfortable in showing too much skin, wear make up like it's an extension of their body.

Then you saw this very suspicious lady that seemed to be a bit closer to your boyfriend than the others.

You can't help but be jealous of her pretty face, lavish lifestyle, and it seems like her friends love her so much.

But hey, you may be a tad bit insecure but you ain't a raging loser, you are ready to let your inner sherlock holmes out and prove a point.

"What was it again? You are not cheating and it's just all in my head?" here you are, showing him the proof of your hard work and catching him red handed.

Did he really think that you won't see him and that girl making-out in a photo that was posted by his friend a week ago.

No matter how pixelated it was or even if your eyesight is bad, you will definitely see it.

"Y/N, that is not what you think." he tried to explain, and you do not understand the reason for his panic as you confidently push him out of the flat.

"Wooyoung, I've seen, heard and smelled enough. I think it's time for you to shut the fuck up." you give him a fake smile, finally giving him a harsh strike on his chest that got him stumbling in the front of the apartment.

"Please, hear me out." he begs but no, your heart is not made out of cotton to listen to him.

Whatever befalls him, he deserves it.

"Go spend the night with your bitch and come back here tomorrow to gather your belongings while I'm at work. Goodbye."

You shut the door in his face, not paying attention to his knocks and pleas.

Finally, some peace and quiet in your mind, heart and soul.

taglist:

@acciocriativity @iarayara @stolasisyourparent @xdannix @nsixns @heartssol @vixensss @shakalakaboomboo

[realbubonicsword]

An Analysis of Shelly

I know what you're thinking. "But Toffee, you only ever post Goob-related content! What's with this sudden Shelly craze?"

Now, my one and only favorite character is and always will be Goob, but I have started to take an interest in Shelly's character lately. And hoooo boy, it has been one HELL of a rabbit hole. Plus, I haven't seen anyone else actively point this out, so I'm doing it myself.

Are you ready?

Let's begin.

(analysis below cut)

The first thing about Shelly that struck me as odd in the new update was her design.

Now, there is absolutely nothing bad about her design-I find it very good, actually!-but when I saw that she was a MAIN CHARACTER TOON (I wasn't keeping up with update news), I was shocked. Everything about her design, from the clothing she wears to the colors made her look like a more...out of the way character. A character meant to have one singular purpose, and then be brushed aside and forgotten. The fact that she was one of the main toons was....strange.

I mean, look at her compared to Teagan!

If you knew about Dandy's World, but didn't know about the update, which one would you guess was the main toon?

I found this...interesting.

Then, I looked into her dialogue on the wiki.

Average stuff, for the most part. She didn't really have anything that jumped out at me. In fact, she didn't show too much unique personality at all. The only thing she was really doing was helping others, or occasionally asking for things from others. Nothing else, really.

Although, there was one strange piece of dialogue that caught my eye, that actually showed a hint of what kind of person Shelly is.

Odd, but ok...

And then, I read the description for her twisted form after finally getting 50%....

And it all made sense.

See it yet?

Let me highlight it for you.

"The blatant ignorance of her existence by everyone around her has enraged her."

At first I thought that this had to be an exaggeration. Surely this friendly and helpful toon couldn't just be ignored like tha-

Oh.

They're right.

Every single bit of dialogue she has is either her helping someone or her asking for something. It's sort of like that person at a job you like being around, but you never really get to know. That's Shelly with basically EVERYONE.

Seriously, name ONE genuine friend that she has currently IN THE GAME (not counting Sprout) that she has had an actual conversation with where they bond and get to know each other as people.

The only time she had some sort of conversation was with Teagan, when she mentioned she was doing ok..."sorta-ish". That line in itself is interesting as well, as it shows how she feels about all of this. But still, they don't really seem to be friends.

We're dipping into a bit of headcanon territory here, but I believe it's rooted enough into Canon to include.

Shelly is someone who craves human (or in this case, toon) connection. She wants to be dependable, to be the one people can fall back on when they're feeling down, to be the one people rely on, and she has that, in a sense. However, no matter how much she does for others, no matter how much she helps them and supports them...

People only see her as..someone to ask for help on occasion. Uh oh, I dropped something, better get that fossil girl to help, since she's always so useful. And that is a part of what Shelly wants!

But that's it.

Useful.

A tool to use and then toss aside for the next person until they need her again.

That's all there is to almost every relationship she has.

And part of it is her fault.

You see, Shelly is so focused on helping people that she forgets to take that next step to forge true friendships, and unfortunately, nobody seems to ever catch on that she wants to take that step to forge genuine bonds with others.

She's non-confrontational by nature, and she doesn't want to ruin her perception of being useful, because then people might forget about her entirely, so she waits and hopes that someone will hear something that she will never say herself.

A good example of this is the strange dialogue I mentioned earlier between Shelly and Vee.

Vee asks if she's busy after they're done with going down the elevator. Shelly initially doesn't believe that anyone would ever ask HER of all people to...possibly hang out...and talk..like friends...

So she gets excited. She asks what they're going to do together (although notably phrasing it in a way so it seems like she is offering to help), and...

It was...just moving some supplies. More work. More reasons to be useful. This isn't a bad thing! It means that people care about her! That they have need for her, so they'll never forget about her! It's not like she hoped that someone actually wanted to take time out of their day to hang out with her, nope! She'd never tell Vee any of that! And besides, she's totally fine with this!

So why does it hurt so badly?

Shelly's greatest fear has been happening to her for years, and she refuses to agknowledge it. To her, it could be so much worse if she stopped helping people. As long as she's useful, people will like her. They would never even think to toss her aside and forget about her, right?

Except they have been for a long time now.

When people talk to her, she either has to initiate by asking for something, or they initiate only because they need something from her. She wants to tell them so badly, to ask them why they never seen to pay any attention to her, or attempt to even have a real conversation with her, but she will never be that bold.

Even with the cardboard cutouts on one of the maps, she's hidden in the back-present, but barely noticed by those around her. (this is more obvious in game)

No matter how much she tries, no matter how friendly or helpful or dependable she is, people never seem to see her as a person. Why don't they see her?! She's right here! She's here and she's endlessly waiting for connections that will never come to pass! It's fine though, really!

Keep being friendly, and people will like you more.

Keep being helpful, and people will have a reason to talk to you.

Keep being dependable, and people will have a reason to come back. They won't ever leave you alone. Right..?

Keep being friendly.

Keep being helpful.

Keep being dependable.

(That's all you'll ever be.)

Ironic that a fossils greatest fear is being forgotten.

[silverwhittlingknife]

OKAY SO i have been rereading dustorange's wonderful post here about Dick in an UtRH-esque scenario where he dies & then comes back to life

AND I HAVE INCOHERENT BRAINSTORMING THOUGHTS:

so first, i think Robin!Dick would be just as hurt by the discovery that Bruce has a new Robin, and brood about it - but i think the shame of having died would stop him from confronting Bruce about it the way Nightwing!Dick does in canon.

and I do NOT think that he would expect Bruce to kill anyone for him (or even be upset that he doesn't? I just don't think this would be a consideration for Dick. he's gonna be fixated on "I failed." so he'll be upset about being replaced but not about the lack of revenge. and if Bruce did take revenge, i think he'd actually feel angry and betrayed about that because it'd feel like the choice was taken away from him, a la how upset he gets when he thinks Bruce has arranged to have Zucco killed - even if he intellectually knows that Bruce wasn't deliberately undermining himbecause he didn't know Dick was gonna come back to life.)

anyway so what WOULD he do??

what comes to mind is something along the lines of "Dick obsessively keeps an eye on Batman & Robin even while telling himself that he's not"

and then - say - if it's Robin!Tim (i feel like this has to be Tim because in the world where Dick dies there is no way that Bruce is voluntarily picking a new Robin), then maybe the moment when Dick steps in is when Bruce is in danger & he's furious / critical of Tim for not protecting Bruce well enough

and i feel like that's how he'd channel the hurt feelings - it'd all be deflected under shame and obligation, and then translated into the anger of "you replaced me & yet you're failing to do the job that you're supposed to do" (which is actually about projection/self-hatred because Dick would actually be mad at himself for having died & not doing that job anymore)

and Dick wouldn't want to see Bruce at all because of the shame over dying & subconscious fear that Bruce doesn't want him back, plus every little thing that Tim does differently would drive him NUTS because it implies that maybe the way Dick did things wasn't good enough for Bruce

i'm actually kind of fascinated by this now. because i am me and i have (1) obsession i am mostly invested in the dick & tim side of it sdfsdfds

so i'm picturing Tim very stung by whatever critical things Dick said to him & tracking this mysterious vigilante down, and then Dick doesn't want to spend ANY time with him BUT he's also subconsciously desperate for news of Bruce!!! so then something something Dick starts sorta training him a la Tim's various contacts with edgy non-batman-aligned vigilantes, and Tim's very defensive about how he IS a good robin so THERE but of course he's also defensive because he's secretly worried he's not good enough.

normally i would have tim Recognize dick since recognizing dick is tim's most basic skill HOWEVER i think it would be much more fun if tim doesn't recognize him so he can give dick a speech about legacy & the first robin: "i do x and such because that's how the first robin did it so it is Objectively Correct." which Dick will find incredibly infuriating but will be unable to counter since he cannot counter with 'the 1st robin was ME'

…hmmm i do think Dick ought to be angry about SOMETHING about batman's methods/attitude just because that's more dynamic? I feel like in order to make the adaptation work, there ought to be SOME kind of argument with Bruce right before he dies that he can still be mad about, a la the garzonas fight for Jason and Bruce. unsure what though?

okay let's see: I feel like Dick's main arguments with Bruce aren't about vigilante issues per se so much as they're about working in a team - so e.g.

1) Bruce being controlling/demanding, and 2) Bruce being secretive and doing stuff behind Dick's back, and 3) Bruce not allowing Dick enough autonomy, 4) just generally a perceived lack of trust.

SO maybe whatever The Frustrating Thing that bruce was doing when dick died is a thing he's STILL doing with this new robin, and dick is getting frustrated all over again sorta on tim's behalf but mostly on his own behalf because he never got to resolve this with bruce

but anyway that way when Bruce finally spots disguised!Dick, then they can have the fight again before Bruce realizes who he is <3

[httpscomexe]

Runaway 5

Summary: Logan reaches his breaking point when he finds out Scott touched you

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett x Hybrid!Reader

Warnings: (Individual warnings per chapter) This is a dark chapter. Language, blood, violence. This will be a non-con fic starting in future chapters.

Word Count: 4419 (Find all chapters here) CH6

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

P.P.S I mean it, this is going to be very violent.

“Good Morning sugar glider.”

“Wade, that is a completely different animal.” You giggle, pouring yourself a glass of lemonade that Logan had bought from the store for you, who, by the way, was currently snoring like a pig on Wade's couch, a fluffy pinkie pie blanket laying over him.

“Still cute…” He mumbles, one side of his lips quirking up as he stays quiet enough so even Logan's dreams can’t hear him speaking to you.

“Wade hush, you know Logan doesn’t like it when you flirt…” You whisper, taking a big sip from your glass and scrunching your nose at the sour taste.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Then it shouldn’t bother him.”

“Wade, he just cares…” You mumble, and Logan stretches on the couch, sitting up, and immediately looking down at his body, searching for you, but looking behind him when he can’t find you.

“Bambi?” He groans as he sits up, his age showing. You skip over to him like an excited child waiting for their birthday present, grabbing your hairbrush from the table.

“Goodmornin Logan!” You say excitedly, sitting on your knees and heels next to him on the couch.

“Good morning Bambi…” He yawns a little, draping his arms over the back of the couch as you wiggle the hairbrush in front of him.

“Well.” Wade says from the kitchen, making your ear twitch as you look back at him. “I have some important business to tend to…” You watch as he shoves a cupcake from God knows where into his mouth. “So, you and your guard dog get to watch the house. I’d say Al could, but you know. She isn’t the best at watching.”

“I can hear you, you fucking asshole!”

“She does a great job at listening though.”

“Where are you going?” You wonder, and you feel Logan's hand suddenly resting on your thigh.

“Just some uh… unfinished business. I’ll be back tonight.” He nods at Logan, sort of in a ‘calm the fuck down’ way. You turn back around to look at Logan, and his eyes drift down to you, his mouth closing as if mid sentence, and you grip the hair brush a little tighter in your palm.

“Okay…” You look back at Wade, who’s patting himself for something. “Well we’ll see you later then… Bye Wade…” You curl up a little against Logan, and he tries to take the hairbrush from you, but you snatch your hand away and give him an angry look, making his eyebrows quirk, a smirk rising to his face that tells you he’s unimpressed.

“Bye you two…” He passes by you two on the couch and makes his way for the door, swinging it open before closing it behind him.

“Let me see the brush honey.”

“No.” You shoot back almost immediately and you watch as his chest moves up and down with a deep breath. “Why’re you so mean to Wade?”

“I’m anasshole to everyone, Bambi.”

“Especially Wade.”

“Just hand me the brush, we can talk about this later.” He holds his hand out again, and you hand it to him, a frown on your face. “Come on, down.” He points at the floor between his legs, and you get down between them, his hands automatically moving over your hair with the brush gliding through your tangles.

“Why can’t we just talk about it now?”

“Baby, I just woke up.” You hear a growl come from the back of his throat.

“So did I, but I wanna hear about it.”

“Well that’s just too bad.”

“Logan-”

“No.”

“Logan I- Ow!” His hand suddenly grips onto a bundle of your hair and he pulls it, making you follow the pain to sit up more on your knees, your back leaning further against the couch between his legs and you look at him as he leans forward.

“I said no. Did you forget what no means?” He growls, gripping your hair tighter when you don’t answer. “I asked a fucking question.”

“Yes… Wait. No.” You whimper, tears brimming your eyes as your fingers wrap around his wrist, trying to urge him to let go.

“Then what part of it do you not understand?” He moves his hand to wrap more around your hair, pulling even harder, and it felt like your scalp would be bleeding.

“I’m sorry-” Your voice shakes, fingers now clawing at his wrist. “Please, I won’t ask again…” You start to cry, hiccuping a little.

“If you ask again, I’m going to do much worse than this…” He warns, letting you back down, and loosening his grip on your hair, but he keeps holding it, knowing you would try to crawl away.

“M’sorry…” You whisper, and you feel the brush move through your hair again, his hand moving away from your re-tangled locks, some tears running down your cheeks.

“Don’t do it again…” He growls quietly, and Wade's bedroom door opens before Althea comes out and heads straight for the kitchen fridge, feeling around in the back of it.

“Where the fuck are my cupcakes? I bought two…”

You were lucky. Getting out of the house to hang out with Ororo. She had stopped by the house and knocked on the door just before Logan went to the bathroom to take a shower, and she wondered if you’d be able to hang out, just you and her since Jean canceled on her, which she had apparently expected.

“I mean yea, if it’s just you.” Logan told her, looking back at you with a nod of approval, followed by you quickly tying on your shoes and springing to your feet with a big smile on your face to move next to Ororo.

“I’ll have her back around when the mall closes.” She promised, and you gave Logan a big hug before following her to her car, hopping in the passenger seat, then you watched cars fly by on the way to the mall.

“Alright, see anything you liked?” Ororo comes up to you, some sweaters in her hands that she planned on buying as she watches you look at some clothes.

“No…”

“You’re being quiet.” She chuckles, gently flicking your nose.

“Sorry, usually Logan goes shopping for me, I’m not used to it.”

“Well, are there any clothes you’ve been wanting that Logan won’t get for you?” She walks backwards for a moment, urging you to follow her before turning around to walk straight to the counter and buy her arms full of clothing.

“No… I haven’t been here.”

“Jesus, that asshole keeps you locked up like a puppy in kennel training.” She mumbles, smiling at the cashier as he rings up her items.

“He’s not an asshole…”

“Oh yes he is Bambi.” She takes out her wallet to pay. “Are you hungry?” She turns to look at you as she hands her card to the man behind the counter.

“A little.” She takes her card back as the machine beeps, and she takes her bags.

“Well, let's go find the food court.” She walks ahead of you, and you do a little jog to make it back to her side, your eyes scanning the different people in the mall.

It made you a little self conscious, maybe even a little uncomfortable. The looks you got from normal people. Looking down on you for the big deer ears on the sides of your head and the tip of the deer tail that was peeking out of the sweater you’d stolen from Logan's clothes.

You were getting weird looks from children for fucks sake, and it only made you feel worse as you stayed close to Ororos side.

“Hey, you alright Bambi?” She wonders,wrapping her arm around your shoulder, and she follows your awkward gaze, your arms crossed embarrassingly over your stomach.

“I don’t like being here.”

“Hey, this isn’t a mutant free space, it says mutants are allowed here.”

“Yea, but everyone still stares…”

“I’d stare too.” She pauses, and you look up at her. “You’re unique. It’s not often you see a hybrid in public.” She tells you, holding you closer. “Especially one that's considered a mammal. Plus, you’re with me, so people know you’re not a bad one. Also did I mention.” She leads you into the food court, the smell of pretzels and pizza smacking you in the face. “Hybrids, they aren’t nearly as hated as mutants.” She shrugs, leading you to one of the little sandwich stands. “And that’s because they’re cute.” She boops your nose, letting go of your shoulders, and you both stand in the line.

“They are very cute.” Your ear twitches at the familiar voice, and her arm wraps around your shoulder. “Didn’t know you’d be here.” Jean smiles down at you.

“You canceled?” Ororo looks over at her.

“Yea, then I canceled what I canceled for and your location said you were here anyways. Guess you replaced me pretty easily, huh?” She jokes, and you look down at her other hand to see she was attached to Scott, and he nods at you as a hi.

“Did I hurt your feelings? I hope I did.” Ororo teases, and Jean lets go of both you and Scott to stand on the other side of Ororo, Scott moving a little closer to you, and the line only moves forward by a few people. Why was it so busy in the sandwich line of all lines?

“Never thought I’d see you away from Logan.” Scott tells you, quiet enough so the other two girls couldn’t hear your conversation.

“Well, we're not glued together.”

“Oh I know, he just likes to keep you in his pocket is all…” You open your mouth to argue back, but he was right. “Mhm, that’s what I thought.” His hand reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’m not arguing with that…”

“On my side? Or his side.”

“I’m definitely not taking sides.” You chuckle a little, and he shrugs, a smile forming on his lips.

“Scared to take mine?”

“Scared to leave his…” You admit, and he tilts his head.

“Are you okay…?”

“What do you guys think?” Jean suddenly interrupts, looking over Ororo to find both of your eyes. “Or were you not listening?”

“We weren’t listening.” You both say at once.

“Do you guys wanna go to the spa? Cause if not you can both go look around the mall and hang out while me and Ororo do.” She asks, and Ororo nudges her a little.

“Yea I don’t wanna go to a spa.” Your tail tucks a little, the last thing you wanted was some random person touching you.

“And obviously I don’t” Scott shrugs, and you all finally make it to the front of the line.

“What can I get for you four?” Some teenager asks, looking at Jean first.

“Can I get the turkey special?”

“And for me the ham special.”

“I'll take a chicken.” Scott answers last, and you don’t say anything.

“Bambi, what do you like?” Jean asks you, and you stare at the menu.

“She’ll have a Cubano, I think she’d love that.” Scott tells the kid, and you internally thank him.

“Alright, that's one turkey special, one ham special, a chicken, and then one Cubano?” Ororo nods, and she takes out her wallet again, sticking the card in the paying machine and taking it back out when it beeps, then she hands the card to you.

“Here, you and Scott go have some fun and explore while Jean and I go to the spa once we get the sandwiches.” You take the card, mouthing a thank you before putting it in the back of your phone and the four of you step aside.

Once the sandwiches are ready, Jean and Ororo say bye before heading to the spa, Scott leading you in a different direction. You knew Logan wouldn’t be happy if he knew Scott was there, that he would be absolutely pissed if he knew. But you also didn’t want the three of them to know that. They were already worried about his possessiveness as is, and the last thing you wanted was him keeping you from hanging out with them at all. He’d be mad at Ororo too, thinking that she lied to him.

Again…

“So, what do you wanna check out first?” Scott wonders, making it his turn to wrap his arm around your shoulders.

“Um… I don’t know what there is.”

“Well, I could show you one of the dress stores, maybe you could try some on for me?” He offers, bringing his hand down to take yours after looking back to make sure Jean was gone. You look down at your hands, and your heart skips a beat. It felt as if Logan was watching you, like the second your hands touched, some invisible fucking flame just went through your body and told you to fucking sock Scott in the face. But you liked Scott, he was trying to include you, trying to make you feel special.

“Sure!” You try to smile, trying to seem excited and not at all cracked out nervous.

“Awesome, I’m just gonna head to the restroom, then I’ll get back to you, okay?” He lets go of your hand as you nod, and he walks into one of the restrooms that come up. Another man enters almost immediately after him with a covering of his head, and your ears twitch.

He smelled familiar.

Of course he wasn’t gonna let you go to the mall with Ororo without some sort of protection. Aka, him watching over you.

“Now where are you going? You’re supposed to be helping with this.” Althea waves over at the half finished desk, some screws in the wrong holes.

“I know.” He growls out, and Althea ‘looks’ at him (the wall) through her blind glasses at his tone. “I just want to check on Bambi.”

“Let the damned girl enjoy herself for once damnit.” She talks to the wall as Logan throws on his thick flannel, grabbing his truck's keys from the coffee table.

“She won’t even know I’m there Althea.” He growls again, then tosses the door open to leave, the sound of some wood falling to the floor the last he hears as Althea calls out ‘motherfucker.’

He was watching you. A hat pulled low over his head. Yea, he was a little pissed when Jean and Scott suddenly showed up, but he calmed down as he heard the surprise in Ororos voice. She didn’t expect Jean to still suddenly show up. And she definitely didn’t expect Scott.

He watched as Scott ordered for you, a smile being brought on your face that made him want to strangle you both at the same time. You shouldn’t be able to smile at anyone that way except him. Then he stood up as you all separated, you moving with Scott.

Then he touched you.

He put his fucking arm around you, and Logan felt his rage run through him like a freight train, his fists clenching at his sides, claws coming out just a little before going back into his skin. If he had stared any harder, his veins would be popping out of his neck.

He fucking touched you.

And it wasn’t just his arm around your shoulders. No.

He fucking grabbed your hand.

And you didn’t do anything about it.

He was fucking pissed.

He walks past you, making sure the hat stays covering his face to stay unrecognized as he swings open the bathroom door, letting it close behind him as he moves to the side, letting another man leave the bathroom. Leaving the two of them alone…

The clink of metal and the sound of the AC is the only thing that can be heard in the bathroom as Logan waits for Scott to leave the stall. And once he does, he immediately freezes, watching as Logan takes the hat off his head, setting it down on a sink.

“Howlett?” Scotts voice shakes a little. Logan hadn’t even done anything yet, but just him being there was enough to send waves of fear through his body for some reason, prickles of goosebumps shooting through his arms. If he was a dog, he was sure the hair on the back of his neck would be standing up.

“Scott…” He growls, slowly stalking towards him, and Scott only takes steps back, his hands instinctively being thrown up in defense.

“Wanna fucking explain that shit?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me…” His claws suddenly shoot out, his fists clenching tight as his nails dig into his skin.

“I didn’t-”

Logan lunges forward, his claws pointing out in front of him, but they just stab into the wood of the thin stall doors. Scott was fast enough to close it and lock it.

“Open the fucking door!” He growls out, ripping the metal extensions out of the stall before banging the side of his fist on the flat surface, the entire wall of stalls shaking with the force.

“Calm the fuck down!”

“Don’t you fucking tell me to calm down!” He growls back, kicking at the stall and the hinges creak a little, the wall vibrating again, threatening to fall over.

Meanwhile, you were outside, your ears perking up at the sound of yelling and banging, frozen in place as you debated running in there.

“Open this fucking stall door RIGHT now!” Logan's fist clenched back down at his sides. “Or I swear on your motherfucking life I will tear this cheap piece of shit of it’s hinges and my fucking claws will find their way into your fucking throat…-” He growls out, some spit coming out of his mouth and landing on the door in front of him.

“I’m not fucking coming out after you just-”

That was all he needed to say. Logan suddenly punches the door, hard, pounding a hole through the cheap wood before punching the other side as well, making two holes big enough for him to reach through them and tear at the door, Scott taking the time he’s distracted to hop over the stall, using the urinal as a ladder to get over the side of it.

Logan grips the sides of the stall with his fists, using barely a little of his fueled up adrenaline to rip the door off more than just the hinges, the wood stuck in the tile floor ripping out a little. He looks inside of the stall after throwing the door aside, watching as it crumples off parts of the tile wall and they clatter to the ground.

Scott knew it would be pointless to fight back, considering Logan would just heal right back up.

“Where the fuck did you go you fucking pussy?” Logan moves one stall to the right, Scott being quiet as he locks the stall to the left of the destroyed one, before crawling over the wall again, slowly making his way further and further to the right. But all he was doing was pumping Logan full of more anger. He was sure to do more than just hurt Scott at this point.

He swings open all of the stalls to the left, some of them flying off their hinges as he kicks them open before he storms over to the ones on the right.

“I’m not playing these fucking games…” He mumbles, going into one of the stalls with a door and closing it, locking it behind him.

Then he kicks at the wall itself, next to the door. And Scott freezes up in the corner of the handicap stall he was cowering away in.

He kicks it again, and the entire wall of stalls seems to creak as they all threaten to fall. But he kicks it again, and this time he hears the wall holding it up crack as the bars come loose.

Then he kicks it again.

The loud crash was enough for you to make up your mind. A few heads turning and walking towards the bathroom but you’re faster as you swing the door open and force it shut and locked behind you, just in time to see Scott be thrown from one side of the bathroom to another, the force throwing him unseen by you as a wall blocks your sight. Scotts back crashing into the wall and you hear his bones crack as he comes in contact with the wall, and pained groan leaving his lips as your feet move on their own to run up to him, but a large hand grabs your shoulder and throws you to the side, your own back hitting a different wall.

“Get the fuck out…” Logan's voice growls, and the fear you were feeling before suddenly clicks in your mind, but you don’t move as you watch him crouch down, grabbing the collar of Scotts shirt before picking him up to his feet and slamming him against the wall.

“Bambi-” Scott groans out, trying to make you leave, but Logan's entire hand suddenly grabs Scotts’ face, lifting his head off the wall before harshly slamming it back against the wall, some blood spurting around the white tile, and your eyes widen in fear.

“Get the FUCK out!” Logan looks down at you, and you flinch at his tone, still unmoving. Then he lets go of Scott, dropping him to the floor before approaching you now. He bends down, his hand gripping around your ear, but just as he’s about to pick you up, he growls and lets go, suddenly tumbling to the floor and Scott grabs your hand, lifting you up quickly and you lose your balance for a moment before catching yourself.

“Get out…” Scott tells you, and he screams, turning back towards Logan as three claws are suddenly poking through the flesh of his arm, high enough so you can see the outline of the three tendrils through Scotts skin. “AH!” He screams louder, and Logan throws him again, pulling his claws out of Scotts skin and blood drips and spurts from his arm, spilling onto the floor. “GET OUT!” Scott screams again, but he’s met with Logan grabbing his shirt, slamming him against the exit, his fist colliding with Scott's face a few times before he grabs his shirt and slams him against it again, then he backs up and kicks his stomach, Scott hurling up blood as it drips down his skin and the door suddenly flies open, sending Scott flying to the middle of the open mall, some people screaming as they quickly move out of the way and watch in terror as Logan stalks back over to Scott, you peeking from inside of the bathroom still.

You stare down at Scott who’s curled up in pain on the floor, the meat on his jaw torn open from the force of Logan’s punches, the crack in his bone visible as his jaw hangs slack, his lips apart, some teeth obviously missing and fallen to the floor; covered in blood and coating his face with a mixture of spit and his vitals.

“Bambi what the fuck-!” Ororo grabs you and pulls you back a little, standing in front of you like a shield suddenly.

You keep staring over her shoulder, watching as Logan digs his claws into Scotts side.

He didn’t have enough strength now in his body to bother moving. The pain in his jaw was unbearable, like someone had stuck a thousand needles into his throbbing muscles before punching his mandible and breaking each pinpoint, spreading the little pins throughout his face. It was already bruising, swelling red and visibility throbbing, and he screams in agony as he tries to close his teeth, biting down on the numbness of his cheek, but the scream only brings him more pain, the opening of his broken jaw sending fluctuating pain through his skin, and it made him feel light headed and cold.

He barely even notices it when Logan starts attacking his sides, digging his claws into his abdomen before pulling them out and stuffing them back into him over and over again.

People scream in the crowd, some people tearing their phones out of their pockets and shouting things like ‘somebody help him’ and ‘is that Wolverine?’

Oh yea…

He wasn’t brought into public yet. It wasn’t exactly easy to ask the press to make a video telling the entire world that yes, Logan is dead. But happy birthday, we got another.

Anyways.

His claws continue their assault, stabbing in and out of Scott until his flesh is torn apart and obscene noises blur out the gasps and words of stand-by-ers.

Obviously Ororo wasn’t stupid enough to help Scott. Logan would rip them both apart. She just half hopes that Jean would come around and get into the fuckers mind.

But no, they all instead watch as he tears Scott apart, piece by piece as gummy like chunks of his large intestine fly out of his body on Logan's claws and land somewhere else on the tile. It wasn’t even just murder anymore, it was full fledged hatred.

Scott was already dead, he was lying under Logan, twitching as parts of his organs are strewn about, Logan still savagely tearing into his stomach now and parts of his chicken sandwich are ripped from his stomach, leaking and coated with blood down what’s left of his skin.

“Logan!” You cry out, fearful eyes of innocent people landing on you, Ororos hand holding you back as Logan's claw digs into Scotts chest. “LOGAN!” You scream again, this time pushing past Ororo who tries to grab at you, missing by just an inch as you run to Logan's side, but just as you’re about to grab his arm just before it plunges back into Scotts chest…

Jeans finally shows up, hurling herself at you before you can touch the feral animal ripping into poor Scott like an actual wolverine would rip into a rabbit, easily tearing flesh and ripping through bone.

His hand leaves Scotts chest again and he stands up, looking down at you and Jean, Jean lying on top of you protectively, something pulsating in his hands.

“Logan-” He squeezes, blood exploding and spattering Jeans face and part of your face in Scotts red blood. Then his eyes roll a little, as if dizzy, and you look over to see Jean concentrating, relaxing only a little when Logan falls to the floor with a thump…

🏷️: @shybluebirdninja @atomicheartbroken @hazydespair @kindazombie @themaidenofdarkness @rebeccawinters

[usercelestial]

the whole queer eddie being included in a queer characters posts reminds me of like when people were wishing the bucktommy date scene got cut instead of the eddie and buck in Bobby’s room and eddie praying …when there is that whole random ass scene with no real adherence to the plot or the characters with polly the neighbour right there as an option for them to cut..but no they wanna cut the scene with the mlm queer couple (that many mlm queer men in this fandom love) all because they hate tommy, can’t handle a daddy issues joke, and the fact that it’s not eddie with buck

yeah ultimately a lot of their cries for activism and queer rep are performative. they do not truly care about queer characters or queer representation and i think most people could smell that from a mile away. these people have always been way more concerned with their own ship than with anything else. they like to pretend that if you don't ship The Thing or if you don't hate bucktommy then you must not want eddie to be queer or even like his character and that's. a thought lol. but i think it's really interesting why they've come to that conclusion.

like for me, i love eddie enough that i don't have to change his character to make him something that i like. i love eddie enough to allow him to be his own character outside of my own interpretation of his queerness and outside of his relationship with buck. but at the same time i also love eddie enough to see myself in him and create theories about his identity. these two things co-exist: seeing the character for what the canon shows me he is AND seeing the character for what i'd like him to be. i think most people are able to find the balance and be pretty normal about it. i think these people are genuinely so far deep into whatever they want the story to be that they have to rewrite canon to fit that perception of the character and feel threatened when that gets pointed out.

which again, like i truly do not give a shit if you do cherry pick canon, just don't come for people who are like hey you know that's just your headcanon right? like don't act like your own interpretation is better than anyone else's. it's not, it's still just an interpretation. i do read eddie as queer while still acknowledging that within the canon universe, he is identified as a straight man by canon. which makes my reading of him just a headcanon (aka canon in your head but not anywhere else), no less valid and important but still not the story they may be trying to tell.

i've talked about this a little bit before but i think a lot of the issue here is the idea of playing nice and remembering that this is all pretend which i don't think they've really had to deal with before. a lot of these people have never been confronted with another big kid on the block. their ship has kind of held precedent for a really long time, along with their headcanons and their ideas of what these characters are. so now that buck actually is bisexual and is dating a man, who isn't eddie, suddenly their entire worldview of canon breaks down.

now there's canon gay representation. now you don't have a moral argument to justify your ship bc that thing you've been begging for, "canon bi buck/more canon queer characters" does exist. so now what are you arguing for? just a preferred ship? no that can't be, it must be more than, we must be fighting for something bigger.

but now you're forced to confront that it's all just headcanons and vibes and theories that have ran unchallenged for years and years. so now you have a group of people who do not know how to grapple with the reality they are being shown vs the reality they've created in their heads clashing against people who are fans of the same reality the show lives in and don't really care about the non-canon anymore. which, if that's your prerogative, if you prefer non-canon stuff, then go for it, that's what fandom is for, but the issue here is that they view this as genuinely a threat. they don't want any other interpretation. it doesn't just feel like a threat to their ship, it feels like a threat to the canon world they've created about these characters. they see other people coming in excited for something that isn't their thing, and now feel like we're taking something away from them. they don't want to see canon anymore, even if it's something they used to claim they want. they don't want queer rep, they want to be proven right.

[nevernonline]

✧.* grow as we go; svt smau.

entry #22 end it all.

synopsis: over the past ten years you’ve fallen in love many times. one day someone happens to stumble across your journal sitting out on your nightstand and started posting your entries online. after all of your secrets are leaked it’s clear things would ever be the same again.

𐦍 paring: svt members x afab! reader.

𐦍 feat: non-idol! svt

𐦍 genre/s: reader is super angsty low-key, fluffy, sexual themes.

𐦍 content: swearing, bullying, crazy ex’s, mentions of sexual relations, some drinking& mary jane 🍃

word count: 5.7k (some texts in between writing as well)

masterlist ▸ 021 we're so back.  ▸ 023 signing off for now. (coming soon)

Y/N sat waiting for this moment for the past 24 hours, sitting around on Mingaho’s couch, his carpet in the living room, the floor of the shower, literally any spot you can name when he wasn’t at work or out with their friends. Which was a luxury she couldn't afford as of yet. 

Mimi hurt her deep and it wasn’t just her she was hurting anymore. It was everyone around her. Somehow y/n didn’t even care enough about her own wellbeing to do anything prior to the incidents with Minnie and her further threats towards her male counterparts. It hurt her to see the people she loved despite some bumps in the road hurting more than she was. 

Even though Mimi had single handedly been the issue in her life for many years she still couldn't figure out a way to hurt her back. Of course she could publicly embarrass her, call her family, fall in love with a boy that Mimi once wanted for herself, but it wouldn’t be enough, nothing would ever feel enough to get rid of her. Well, other than murder and y/n wasn’t ready to give up one weird fucked up version of prison to get the real one. Some part of her even wanted to just say fuck it and give Mimi friendship in hopes of all of this fading away even though she knew it none of it would be enough. 

Laying her forehead on the clean glass of Minghao’s coffee table, she took in a big ass sigh just waiting for the clock to hit 5:00pm when she’d finally be in her confrontational mode. Nipping (hopefully) all of this shit in the bud. 

“y/n?”

Mingaho walked through the arched threshold of his house, the secret house apparently nobody had been too other than her. Standing in front of her staining his coffee table momentarily with her makeup, just looking at her with his concerned eyes, somehow still as statuesque as ever. 

“Yes?” 

All she could come up with was a simple response, wiping her stain not so secretly with the sleeve of her gray sweatshirt. 

“I got you some food, come on.” 

“Does this food happen to start with a “W” and end with a ‘INE?’ Or anything involving a content higher than zero?” 

“Do the letters THC sound okay?” 

“Wow, yes three of my favorites.” 

Minghao led her into the kitchen, still holding a grip on her arm from his helping her off the floor. Sitting her down at his overly modern kitchen table, where he set her lunch complete with a napkin that had a knife, fork, and rolled up joint sitting on it like it was meant to be used for her to shovel the various dishes into her mouth. 

“A real Ramsay.” 

“I do take pride in my plating and table setting.” 

“Did you roll it yourself?” 

Minghao waved his fingers to her, catching a slight smile from the girl as she beamed at the hello kitty themed rolling paper he had ordered online. 

“Feeling okay?” 

“Despite everything, yeah. I’m just ready to get rid of her at least for a while.” 

“Still not going to tell me what you planned or?” 

“No, sir. Out of the question.” 

“Ah, come on, I can keep a secret.” 

“I used to think that, but you’re friends with Jun now, he’d still find out.” 

“No way.” 

“How do you think I knew you had a garden in the back of your place, he stalked you. He’s impressive.” 

“And not scary at all.” 

“He’s harmless.” 

The pair ate the rest of their meal in silence not knowing how to continue the conversations they had been having recently, both in the same frame of mind and their end goal in sight. Minghao couldn’t lie that Y/n keeping him in the dark about what her plan was wasn’t making him nervous, he had built up a protectiveness to her, something he’d never experienced with any of his other friends. He knew that she could handle herself, but it still didn’t ease his anxiety further. 

“Hey, what time is it?” 

Mingaho just looked up at her, unaware she had been trying to ask him a question as he was in his own head. 

“Oh, uh. 4:30.” 

“Alright. Hand me your lighter and let me get a hit in before I have to dress for revenge.” 

Mingaho just laughed, handing over the black electric lighter to her across the table, being careful to not touch her fingers and go back into his trance. 

He had been doing good the past few days, not intruding on her space with his feelings to much, keeping it just how she wanted it, just friends. Hopefully, for him that just meant until she got the whole Mimi thing handled. 

Y/n took a deep exhale and blew the smoke behind her to not get it into Minghao’s space. The pair's phones  lit up at the same time, letting them know it was time to meet up for hopefully the finale. 

Minnie and Y/n stepped outside of Mingyu’s black car, weirdly the perfect car for their bondess actions, not quite matching their casual outfits to their gut feelings. Minnie linked arms with y/n as they walked up to Mimi’s apartment, waiting for their meeting of the devil they both know. 

“Honestly, I’m surprised she lives here? I thought she had a good job?” 

“Last I heard she did? Some sort of social management or something?” 

“Perfect for her huh? Managing other people's lives.” 

“Yeah, but this.. Don't tell that truth.” 

“Maybe she was lying?” 

“Or y/n, maybe it’s a set up?” 

“No. I don’t think so. Her name is on the call box.” 

“This is becoming even more bizarre than I would’ve thought in the first place, ring the buzzer.” 

“Minnie, you ring the buzzer.” 

“Why would I ring the buzzer? You have longer fingers than me, less chance of being electrocuted or something, plus you have long sleeves you can wrap your hand in. They must protect you from that stuff too, right?”

“I don’t know? I’m scared to ring the buzzer. What if she puts some sort of magic powder on it and it turns me into a frog or something, I hate frogs.” 

“Why don’t we both ring the buzzer at the same time and then if there's a chance that she is some weird witch then we both turn into preferably not frogs but maybe cats or something?” 

“Well the witch thing is true. Okay, together.. Uh, ready?” 

“Sure.” 

Minnie and Y/n reached their pointer fingers together closer to the buzzer of apartment 4C that apparently belonged to their mutual enemy. When they made contact with the sticky silver knob they both jumped as the door unlocked, Mimi must have been waiting for their arrival right next to her intercom. 

“Okay.. Call me a snob or whatever y/n but this place is, uh-” 

“Not what you were expecting?” 

“Right.” 

“Me either.” 

The girls walked through the courtyard following the signs on the side of the bricks that would lead them to the staircase up to the fourth floor to find Mimi standing outside with her door cracked, watching them timidly walk towards her. 

“I see you guys have no respect for other people's time still, you’re ten minutes late.” 

Y/n looked down at her watch. 

“Actually, we’re right on time, see?” 

She shoved her electronic apple watch screen with the exact time running across. 

“My mistake, I guess. Want to come in or are we just going to talk out here? Maybe the best idea considering you guys probably have some insane plan to tie me up and poison me or something.” 

“Why would we waste prison time on you exactly?” 

“Touche, Minnie. Come on, let’s get this over with.” 

Minnie and Y/n gave each other a look of disbelief as they walked into her apartment, clothes strung around everywhere, a board with thumbtacks of documents, pictures of her dog, some weird excerpts from fashion magazines.  Her laptop plugged into a wall socket paused on a scene from 13 going on 30, dirty coffee mugs staining on her side table. Definitely not the place she assumed Mimi was living, especially since Y/n knew her parents were unbelievably well off. 

“You guys can just sit on the couch or at the desk, it doesn't matter. Just throw the clothes on the floor. They should be clean, but I’m not sure.” 

“Is this your apartment? Like, full time or?” 

“Yes, y/n. Laugh all you want, but this is my apartment.” 

“What happened to-” 

“To the luxury one? Well after my parents found out about some of the things I’ve done, they cut me off. Luckily my job had a way for me to find vacant places I could actually afford considering I spent all my money on clothes the entire time I was working for my dad, so I had no savings. That’s how.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Sorry? That’s all you guys can say is sorry? After you basically ruined my life? You’re both part of the reason I’m here right now.” 

“What the fuck? How are we responsible for this exactly?” 

“Well, Minnie. Since you so kindly asked. You know exactly why. Your parents told mine that I am a quote bully unquote to poor sad Y/n who gets everything she wants, so I blame you for that.” 

“You blame us for the way you obsessively have been trying to ruin y/n’s life for years?” 

“Ruin her life? Please, what life?” 

“What life? Are you like.. Doing well? On drugs? Hitting your vape pen a little too much and losing all your brain cells or?” 

“Come on, Minnie. Don’t tell me you actually think her leeching off other people and making them feel sorry for her to get them to hangout with her is actually having a life? Half of you guys are just her barking dogs because she’s too much of a pussy to call people out herself. Even now, you’re here with her fighting with me over a comment I made about y/n. Barking little dog. Seokmin too, just absolutely blind to the fact that she’s a shitty friend to him while he’s picking up all her broken pieces over and over again. She can’t even get a fucking boyfriend, all the boys she’s ever loved have fallen for her best friends over her, Me and Joshua, now you and Mingyu, I wonder who’s going to come and scoop Minghao up from under her considering she’s never going to give him wha-” 

“God can you stop being a fucking cunt for one second? What the fuck have I EVER done to you to make you say this shit about me? What? Tell your parents that you were recklessly drunk driving? You almost killed my father? You paralyzed a woman from the waist down? But, you left completely unscathed, no injuries aside from a little vomit and a paper cut sized gash on your hand because your vodka bottle shattered into the steering wheel as you drove into oncoming traffic? Tried for years to get Joshua to see that the type of person you are isn’t who he sees, that you were brainwashing him? Fuck. I even left and signed your stupid fucking note claiming I was doing all of this for attention, left my life, my friends, took time off of work, just because I needed you to stop trying to take it over and just wanted to give it to you so I never had to see you ever again. You think I actually want to sit here and look at how you’re living just so I can feel good about myself? No, it doesn’t make me feel good, Mimi. I don’t think this would make anyone feel good. But, unfortunately it’s karma. Karma for all those goddamn years of you poking and prodding and sticking daggers in my back until I finally bleed out completely and give you what you want. Well it’s fucking done, it’s over.” 

“What’s over, y/n? Huh. You think you’re actually going to win? Over me?” 

“Hah. I don’t care. Don’t you see that? I don’t fucking care anymore. I want you to get the fuck and stay the fuck away from me for a good long time. If you ever pull any of this shit again, you won’t just have a shitty apartment, you’ll have a shitty jail cell.” 

Y/n stood up now itching in closer to where Mimi was standing, leaving Minnie sitting with a shocked look on her face, almost proud. 

“What? Coming close to me so you can punch me or something?” 

“No. But, thanks for the idea.” 

Y/n took one last look into Mimi’s face before taking a deep breath in. 

“Stay the fuck out of my life. Leave my friends alone. Get a different hobby or you’ll get a very unfriendly visit from me accompanied by a few police officers coming to search your apartment and I’m sure you’ll love the new pretty set of silver jewelry they put on your wrists, matching cuffs are super in right now.” 

Y/n then pulled a twenty dollar bill out of her purse, walking away from standing in Mimi’s face, placing it under a thumbtack on her board. 

“Should get you a couple more trips to the laundry room, you could use it. Let’s go Minnie. Thanks for having us, Mimi. Your place is delightful.” 

Minnie got off the couch turning to follow y/n out, but turning back around just as quickly to look at Mimi feeling her rage build in her stomach. 

“Wait, I think I forgot something.” 

“What’s that?” 

Minnie lifted her right hand and laid a slap that could’ve been heard across town on Mimi’s cheek, making her gasp in pain. 

“Have a nice life, bitch.” 

Y/n and Minnie stayed nearly silent, running down the staircase from Mimi’s apartment and all through the courtyard back through the front doors and into Mingyu’s car. 

He wasn’t sure what they were thinking or even what they did, he just drove away without a word until the two girls made eye contact and started hysterically laughing, talking so loud in between their laughing breaths he couldn’t even make out a coherent sentence. 

“I cannot believe you did that, the delivery was SO good.” 

“What about you y/n? That speech, I mean that was cinema worthy, what the hell. I feel so proud of you after I finish laughing I might just cry? Also you tacking down the twenty dollars on the cork board was such a slap in the face.” 

“Oh my god, nothing like your actual slap in the face? I have so much adrenaline right now I feel like I could run a fucking marathon.” 

“Ew, no don’t do that. Let’s go get a drink at my place. Come on.” 

“Mingyu? Drink?” 

“Yes, of course. And I’ll need a full run down once the two of you stop laughing like two little girls, please.” 

“Shut up, you love us.” 

“Right.” 

Mingyu smiled at the pair just laughing and giggling in the rearview mirror. Pulling his car into the parking lot of Minnie’s apartment, very different scenery than the one they just were at. 

“Wow, you know I just realized I’ve never seen your new place yet?” 

“Oh my god, I totally forgot about that, it's really cute. I’m trying to convince this tall bitch to move in with me.” 

“And what’s holding you back, Gyu?” 

“Nothing actually, I was going to tell her yes, might as well do it now while you guys are still on your high.” 

Y/n stopped in her tracks and held Minnie's arm, prompting them to jump up and down and scream slightly. 

“Wow, who would’ve thought THE Minnie Pinnie would have a MAN living with her. And her boyfriend at that, so adult.” 

“Hate to break it to you y/n, but we are adults.” 

“Psh, I know. “ 

“Okay, so let’s go up to my apartment first, I can lend you some clothes especially since you literally just sat on Mimi’s dirty laundry and weirdly stained couch, and we can wash yours.” 

“Sounds good to me, thank you my princess.” 

“Anytime, King Y/n.” 

“King? Excuse.” 

“It just came to me. Mingyu, do you mind grabbing the ice bucket and some wine and bringing it up to the roof? We’ll come in a few minutes.” 

“On it.” 

Minnie dragged y/n through her apartment, room by room, showing her all the new things she acquired to decorate, even though some of them are partially out of boxes waiting for their time to be hung up on the newly painted white walls. 

“Here, this was actually meant to be your birthday gift, but obviously we got distracted. Open it, open it, open it.” 

“You didn’t have to get me anything?” 

“Are you kidding me? Of course I did, I haven’t missed an y/n gift giving experience in a decade, come on.” 

“If anything I should be the one buying you a gift.” 

“My gift was slapping that bitch, hard, hurry please, I have to pee.” 

“Okay, okay.” 

Y/n tore through the tissue paper inside the pink bag, grabbing a hold of a garment inside and pulling it out, a silk black mid length dress with a matching black knit shawl on top. Something she remembers pointing out to Minnie through a car window months ago. Months before Mimi had entered their life again. 

“Oh my god, you didn’t.” 

“Hello? Of course I did, have you met me? Try it on while I pee, be right back.” 

Y/n took this silk fabric between her fingers and placed it carefully on the back of Minnies desk chair, sliding out of her jeans and t shirt and into the soft buttery fabric of her new dress, pulling the shrug over her arms and shoulders twirling a little, already wishing for somewhere to wear it. 

“Oh wow, y/n” 

Y/n walked over to Minnie with outstretched arms, hugging her tightly as another thank you and confirmation that she loved her gift. 

“I’m sorry we fought, I’m really sorry for everything, especially that you got hurt. I love you, Min.” 

“I’m sorry too, but it's over now, we’re perfect. Can I do your hair just so we can see how it’ll look with the dress?” 

“Yeah, sure. What about, Gyu?” 

“Ah, he’s fine, he has beer and a phone he can entertain himself well for ten more minutes, sit down.” 

Y/n obliged and sat down at the desk once again, letting Minnie brush her hair into a ponytail, slipping bobby pins in it, she was totally blind to what had been happening to the back of her head, Minnie came to her side brushing her bangs back and pinning them too into a perfect slicked back bun, topped off with a large black scrunchie as a hair accessory. 

“Okay, go look.” 

Y/n stood in the mirror, taking a long look at herself, some sort of light came back into her eyes, she looked almost happy. 

“You made me look good, now please sweatpants.” 

“No, you’re wearing this, I just put in all that work.” 

“But, you’re in sweats?” 

“I’ll change too, like a cute cheers to us killing a vampire.” 

Y/n smiled as Minnie very pixie floated around her room and grabbed a cute outfit to toss on very quickly all the while handing Y/n a few lip glosses and eyeshadow pallets touch her makeup up, and in five minutes she came out looking like an angel. 

“Drink time?” 

“Please.” 

Minnie and Y/n walked back out the front door and up the single flight of stairs to the rooftop, little did y/n know lying behind the door to the sunset were the rest of her friends, here to makeup for her birthday one last time. 

“Can we be up here? Sounds like someone is having a party?” 

“Yes, y/n. You are.” 

“I am? I am what?” 

“Having a party stupid.” 

“You didn’t” 

“Like I said before, of course I did. Let’s celebrate, come on.” 

The two of them pushed open the door to a cheer of people, Mingyu smiling holding his glass of beer next to Wonwoo and Vernon who clapped as Y/n and Minnie ran through the door, Minghao sitting next to Jun, trying to push off his affectionate hug, Joshua, Jeonghan, and Seokmin huddling around each other next to the snacks cheersing the two girls who came outside. A few of y/n’s other various friends are smiling and taking sips of their cocktails.

“I must be really dense? You had this all planned?” 

“Duh. I can’t believe you didn’t catch on. Now go, my beautiful friend. Have some drinks, I’ll catch up with you in a bit.” 

“Fine.” 

Y/n was waved off as Minnie made her way over to Mingyu, jumping into his arms, waving to the boys he was sitting with. Y/n couldn’t help but smile seeing her friends so happy, she walked on her own looking over the city to the bar on the corner of the roof and grabbed the first clear cocktail she could get a hold of before turning around to find Seokmin smiling at her like a lost puppy. 

“Hi.” 

“Hello, lovely lady. How did it go with Mimi?” 

“Seokmin.” 

“Noo, no Seokmin, it’s over now I get to know what happened, that's the rule.” 

“Then can we make a deal? Let me finish at least three cocktails and THEN we can talk about Mimi, but a hint that it went perfectly.” 

“Good, come sit with us.” 

Seokmin picked up two more drinks and led Y/n over to a spot to sit in between himself and Jeonghan, she gladly nuzzled in between them, Joshua sitting across from her just smiling shyly, clearly not knowing how to insert himself again into a conversation after the one they had at her house, the tension was obvious but hopefully with the help of her friends he would get comfortable around her again while she made up her mind. 

“Happy Late Birthday, y/n. I missed you.” 

“Thank you, Hannie. I missed you too.” 

y/n wrapped her arm around him tightly after their hug letting it still rest around his shoulders, drinking away as he and Seokmin explained their crazy night out that somehow involved jumping off the pier after losing a bet with some girls at a bar. 

Y/n couldn’t help herself looking between Joshua and Minghao all night, almost like she was trying to force her eyes into making the decision for her. She knew in her gut what she actually wanted, but also wasn’t ready to hurt someone in the process. 

But, something about standing up for herself today made her realize a part of what Mimi was saying was true, maybe she did use people to make choices for her, maybe she was always too scared to admit how she felt because she was scared of the rejection that came with it, that’s why she chose to hide it away with pen and paper, obviously never thinking those things would come out. 

Her feelings for Joshua were nearly life long, she remembered when he didn’t feel like her friend anymore and moved himself into the painful crush category. Ever since fifth grade she couldn’t stop having feelings for him, all through high school, his stint with Mimi, even after he said and did terrible things to her, she did  them back so it was an even playing field. When she first lost her virginity, when she was seeing Mingyu, and even now. Joshua was so evident in her DNA from her childhood, it wasn’t really easy to shake him from her mind. 

Only one person had done it, Minghao. She didn’t always trust him or his intentions, which turned out to make sense once he had come clean, but she knew from the night he spent at her apartment, when he asked about her life, her photos. Even the simple things about him made her like him more, the way he’s always so engaged in her stories, never looking away from her eyes or her lips as she spoke, never using his phone when he’s with her only to take photos or show her a song that reminded him of her, writing down the movies she suggests just so he can understand her weird references she makes. He was a caretaker, someone who never questioned her, never made her feel less than, he always knew how to make her happy when she didn’t want to be. He fought for her, the same way she did for her friends. 

After her two drinks dried up and much of her conversations were lost on her picking her brain of how to make a choice between two worthy candidates, she got up to use the restroom, heading back down to Minnie’s place, on the way back out she ran into Minghao coming into the front door to pick up another case of beer to bring upstairs, he put it down and let her pass by, giving her hand a small squeeze and a smile without saying anything. Subtle but effective, he let her know he’d be right behind her on the way up. 

“Those are all for you I assume?” 

“No, you know I don’t drink beer. Mingyu is a little drunk so I offered to come down and grab it for him, I didn’t want him to get hurt.” 

“How very chivalrous of you.” 

Minghao put the case down and pulled a few out to pop into the cooler, grabbing a bottle of wine and an opener, waving y/n along to the otherside of the roof where only a few people were sitting and smoking. 

“Let’s share that birthday drink I owed you last time.” 

“Sounds perfect. I’m going to steal this blanket, hold on.” 

Y/n walked over to a couple sitting at a small table smoking a joint, holding hands lovingly watching the sunset. Minghao noticed her bright smile as she talked and waved to them while stealing the stray gray blanket from the open chair and skipping back over to Minghao covering them both up as she saw on the plush floor cushion. 

“That’s Mark, the guy I work for. I think I told you about him before. He’s super nice, he’s planning on proposing to her tonight. Maybe we’ll see it happen.” 

“That would be cute.” 

Minghao smiled at y/n’s eyes, lighting up talking about their proposal. He noticed they did that alot when she would talk about people being happy. It was one of the things he liked the most about her. 

“So, Swan.” 

“Yes, Mungbean?” 

“How was she?” 

“Ah, the subtle approach, I love it.” 

“Well, the place she's living in was sort of alarming at first. It’s totally fine, but not what I had expected, especially since last time I saw her she said she was living in some highrise just a few blocks over from here, actually. I guess it’s all she can afford because her parents cut her off for what she’s doing, she tried to blame me and Minnie, but we didn’t even say anything to them this time? Obviously, someone did.. Maybe Joshua or his mom? Not sure.” 

“Well, that’d be kind of silly for you guys to tattle on her like she's a child.” 

“Right. That’s exactly what I thought. Even if she does act like a child sometimes.” 

“What else happened? You guys just talked?” 

“I wouldn’t say it was talking, it was more of a shouting match at first. But it felt good to finally stick up for myself and not let someone else do it for me.” 

“So, she’s fine with it? Going to leave you alone?” 

“I threatened her with handcuffs.” 

“Kinky.” 

“No, the police kind. I said if she ever tried any shit ever again I would come over and her small world would become a small jail cell, something like that.” 

Minghao laughed, picturing y/n upset, yelling at the girl who made her life hell as he poured them both another glass of wine, halfway through their bottle and moment alone already. 

“Surprised she didn’t try to rip your hair out or something. So you guys really just went over to talk?” 

“ No, not exactly, we did have more of an elaborate plan, but we got side tracked. Oh! And I tacked a twenty dollar bill to her board and said she needs to use it to do laundry which turned her face so red I thought she was about to, but Minnie slapped her instead and we ran off.” 

“What?” 

“What?” 

“The last part again?” 

“I know, I was so shocked I knew Minnie was a feisty bitch but I did NOT expect the slap it was so perfect. We laughed the entire way back here about it.” 

Minghao laughed, picturing the two girls running away childlike after Minnie finally let their bully have it. It seemed like the type of thing he wished they had gotten on camera. 

“But, yeah, nothing more than that. Just a bunch of girls fighting and slapping each other, something weird people on the internet would pay a lot of money for I think.” 

“Too bad you wasted your twenty on her.” 

“I can spare it, I think. Plus, she did have a lot of dirty laundry.” 

“Do you feel better now? I mean, less stressed about it? Because I was worried about you today, you looked like you were going to scream at any second.” 

“Yes, so much better. Thank you for this and for dinner and for letting me stay at your place, it was so nice seeing where you actually live, I was beginning to think you were some type of woodland creature at night or something.” 

“A woodland creature?” 

“Yeah, just you never showed anyone where you lived before. I don’t know? It’s really beautiful though, you should have people over more often, it's so cozy.” 

“You could move in.” 

“What?” 

“No, I just mean. I know you were afraid in your apartment alone after a while and I have the space, I mean you could have an office and a bedroom all to yourself, I don’t mean like-” 

“Are you ever going to ask me out?” 

“What? I-” 

“No. I mean. I’d like to go out with you, I’d say yes. We’ve moved faster in all the other steps and we’ve never really been on an actual date, so.” 

“I didn’t think you wanted me to ask you out?” 

“I thought I was the oblivious one.” 

“Oh, I-” 

“I mean at my parents house when we went outside, I thought you almost did. But, you never actually said anything. And I like spending time with you, just alone. It doesn’t have to be anything amazing or special, just us hanging out, unless you want to do something fancy? You’re kind of fancy. I like that. We kind of were getting to the maybe dating part before your art show, but that went to shit and I was dumb and went on a date with Joshua, which I’m sorry about by the way, that's complicated, but I don’t have feelings for him anymore like that, I have feelings for you. So? I’m talking too much, right?” 

“You’re not no.” 

“So? Yes? Unless you don’t have feelings for me which then makes this incredibly weird and we can just be friends. At least think about it. I-” 

“Y/n.” 

“No, really just give it a few days. I’ve never asked anyone out before so this is weird, plus someone who’s my friends and friends with my friends, so.” 

Minghao took his hand and covered y/n’s mouth for a second just to get her attention back to him and stop her rambling so he can finally get a word in through her rant. 

“Hey.” 

“Y/n, I do like you. I thought that was obvious. I thought you just wanted to be friends.” 

“I thought you just wanted to be friends.” 

“I mean I like being your friend, but I’d like to go out with you. Thinking about staying your friend while I’ve liked you all this time and then watching you date someone else would probably kill me a little. So, yes I’d love to go on a date with you.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, please.” 

MInghao took y/n's hand, holding it tightly while he set their glasses of wine down in front of them and pulled her in for a small kiss on her stained lips. 

“The music started, should we go dancing?” 

“Shouldn’t we plan our date?” 

“That’s up to you, Mr. Minghao. I expect it to be nothing less than fabulous.” 

“Wait, but you asked me out, shouldn't you be planning it?” 

“Is that how it works?” 

“Normally.”

“Okay, I will.” 

“Really, y/n. No, I can plan it.” 

“No. I’m planning. Now come on, let’s dance please.” 

Y/n pulled Minghao up from the ground, running with him to find the rest of their friends on the dance floor, never letting his hand fall from hers almost like a claim. 

Y/n and her friends spent the rest of the night, talking and laughing. Minnie told the story about the slap heard around the world to every separate group of people she talked to. 

When it was finally time to leave, y/n and Minghao hopped in a cab to his place. A place that someday, if things go right could be theirs together. 

When they finally shut the outside world away and got ready for bed, y/n glanced at the various mentions online from her friends, pictures, tweets, instagram posts, and some texts. But, one of them stuck out the most, a text from someone, an anonymous number she never had contacted before something that made her hair stand up on the nape of her neck. 

note: hi! hope u enjoy this final written chapter, the next (two?) lil insert(s) will just to be finishing up this story and then we will be onto the next which I hope you'll all enjoy just as much!! have a good weekend my angel bb's :')

taglist:@sun-daddy-yoriichi@hipsdofangirl@kissesfrmwonwoo@minhui896@wonwooz1@porridgesblog@jasssy051@soonyoungblr@saucegirlreads@musingsofananxiouspotato@young-adult-summer@punkhazardlaw@bibs-world@the-swageyama-tobiyolo@wonuulvr@woozixo@k-drama-adict@90s-belladonna@blaycke@dnylwoo@to-mi-yo, @nonononranghaee@bee-the-loser@mxnhoeuwu

[captain-dallas]

перезагрузить (reset) | marvel | bucky barnes x fem!oc

initially posted on my ao3 mdni banner by @/cafekitsune cw: dead dove do not eat, rape/non-con, mutual non-con (neither of them want it/consent), unprotected piv sex, piv fingering, rough sex, finger sucking, choking, creampie, naked female clothed male, manipulation from zemo, there is zero comfort here, winter soldier bucky barnes

Alexia’s fingers flex as she sits on the couch, an anxious motion as they all listen to Sharon talk. She doesn’t like the other woman, she never has, and the way that Sharon is blaming Sam for everything bad that happened to her just rubs Alexia the wrong way.

Bucky’s hand lands on her thigh, squeezing slightly in an attempt to get her to calm down but it doesn’t particularly work, the air immediately around her dropping a few degrees, a thin sheen of frost forming on her fingers and slowly creeping its way up her hands towards her wrists.

She looks up and her eyes meet Zemo’s, who simply tips his head at her and smiles in a way that feels mocking, causing her powers to spiral a little bit more, the temperature around her decreasing even more.

“Lex.” Bucky says softly and she turns her head to look at him. The hand on her thigh moves to grab one of her hands and she winces, knowing that it doesn’t feel pleasant to touch her right now.

“Buck.” She murmurs back at him, trying to calm herself down. His hand squeezes hers and she lets out a sigh, her shoulders drooping as she leans back against the couch.

Bucky turns his head to press a kiss to her temple, a rare display of public affection, and it brings a small smile to her face. “Sap.” She says quietly, but she appreciates the gesture. It does something to calm her.

Their moment is interrupted when Sharon loudly declares that they need to get changed because the party downstairs is starting and they need to go mingle and look for their target. Alexia pushes herself up off the couch and makes her way over to the rack of clothes by the wall, rifling through it until she finds something serviceable.

Pulling a deep, vivid red dress from the rack, she makes her way over to where Sharon had shown her she could change earlier, stopping to snag a pair of high heels that went well enough with the outfit.

Alexia’s nose turns up at the fancy bedroom that she is now in. Bold of Sharon to complain about being banished from the US when she has a fancy apartment and art gallery like this now.

She strips down to her underwear, wishing that she could shower away the grime of Madripoor, and sets her clothes aside for later, for when they’ve found the man that they’re after.

The door opens behind her and she whips around, ready to confront the intruder, but she relaxes when she sees Bucky. He walks right up to her, his hand grabbing her hip roughly, causing her to flinch.

“Okay, calm down Mister Super Soldier.” She rolls her eyes, her hands coming up to plant themselves on his chest, keeping some amount of space between them.

He doesn’t relent, his other (metal) hand grabbing her throat and causing her eyes to widen. “Hey,” she protests, “I don’t have a problem with you coming in here but you need to slow down.”

The silence is unnerving, usually he’s at least a little vocal, and Alexia feels fear prickle at the base of her spine for the first time since they’ve officially been together. The whole thing just feels off, alarm bells ringing in the back of her mind.

With the hand around her throat, Bucky forces her back against the wall and the impact winds her a little. Now, under the soft light of the sconce, she can see the blank look on his face, the deadness in his eyes, and her heart drops into her stomach.

The Winter Soldier is back.

Panic sets in and she brings her hands up to wrap around the wrist of the hand squeezing her throat, intending on using her abilities but the ice radiating from her fingers doesn’t seem to do anything to the metal of his arm, not even freezing it over or impeding his ability to choke her.

“Buck-” She manages to get out past the hand constricting her airways, his name a desperate plea. It does nothing to stop the man in front of her - does he count as a man right now? she thinks - who simply squeezes harder.

She stops her protests immediately at that, knowing that she can’t reason with him right now. Whatever triggered him, sent him back to this state of mind, is stopping him from being how he usually is with her and it is terrifying.

She is rewarded by the hand around her throat loosening just a little but she knows she’s still going to have bruises tomorrow, reminders of the fact that no matter how hard the Dora Milaje had tried, a small thread of the Winter Soldier still lurks in the back of Bucky’s mind.

Alexia stares into Bucky’s blank, half-lidded eyes, trying to make some sort of contact with the man that she loves, any trace of the Bucky that she knows. When his mouth opens and he utters the words, “Turn around,” her heart drops again, clenching painfully and fearfully in her chest.

“Wait-” She begins but the hand on her throat tightens again and she quickly backs down, “Okay! Okay, just- stop choking me, please-”

He lets go of her throat and she sucks in a deep breath, and even the simple act of breathing hurts now with her bruised neck. The hand on her hip lets go too and she hesitates for a moment before turning around and bracing her hands against the wall. Her eyes settle on the garish wallpaper and her face contorts into a sneer. This was happening to her, here, in Sharon’s shitty, rich girl apartment.

Bucky’s body pressed against her back, something that usually would send heat down between her legs but today only makes her want to recoil in disgust. His arm comes to rest heavily around her waist, a firm hand holding her in place.

The sound of a zipper being undone lets her know what his other hand is up to, his pants shoved down just enough to push down the waistband of his boxers. Once that’s done, his hand comes up to her mouth and two fingers shove their way past her lips, causing her to gag, her eyes stinging with tears.

“Suck.” He commands her, and she shakes her head to try and protest, but Bucky simply shoves his fingers more roughly into the back of her mouth, making Alexia gag and splutter even more, drool running down her chin while tears run down her face.

He practically pets her tongue, ignoring the way she is gagging, stroking two metal fingers across the muscle until he’s satisfied. Before she has the chance to figure out his next planned move, he brings the saliva-covered digits down to the apex of her thighs, pushing aside her underwear and thrusting them inside her.

Alexia lets out a gasp at the intrusion, her eyes screwing shut and her jaw gritting at the lack of finesse. It hurts. There’s no getting around that, but she knows that it’s going to be necessary for what is coming next.

A shudder runs down her spine at that. But it’s not like she can stop him.

She’s brought out of her thoughts when Bucky’s fingers crook up, rubbing against that spongy spot inside of her that causes her to clench around him, muscles contracting at the stimulation.

Despite how much she wants to hate it, her body is responding to his actions, gradually getting wetter and more pliant for him, making it easier for Bucky to manipulate her to his whims. A third finger joins the two probing around inside of her, stretching her out even more, getting her even more ready.

It’s unnerving how quiet Bucky is being, the air devoid of the usual murmurs and grunts she’d grown to love hearing during sex, the way that he would lose his stoic facade. All of that was absent now, no praise or soft noises leaving Bucky’s lips, telling her she was being good or that she could take it. It’s just the sounds of rustling fabric, quiet breathing, Alexia’s soft whimpers and the squelching sound of Bucky’s fingers moving in and out of her pussy.

At some point he must have decided that she was ready because Bucky pulls his fingers out of her, leaving her clenching around thin air and empty.

It doesn’t last for long, however, as he grinds his cock against the crack of her ass, hot and heavy and something that usually has her begging and pushing back against him. As he holds his cock in his hand and notches it at her entrance, the head just barely breaching her entrance, he stills in his movements.

Alexia latches onto this immediately. “Bucky, baby, come on, I know you’re in there, this isn’t you-”

She cuts off as he pushes himself inside her, the hand that was on his cock now quickly covering her mouth as she almost screams. She wasn’t wet enough for this kind of treatment, he’d not spent nearly enough time preparing her and the stretch burns and not in the fun kind of way it usually does.

She’s crying behind the hand over her mouth now, sobbing mutedly, her arms shaking as she tries to hold herself up but she falters and collapses against the wall, her face pressed against the wallpaper, Bucky being the only thing holding her upright now.

He sets a feverish pace, faster than should be possible but her brain idly reminds her that he is a super soldier after all, of course he can fuck this fast.

It isn’t a reassuring thought.

The grip on her hip tightens and she knows that will bruise as well, that she’ll have purple finger shaped marks adorning her skin. A brutal reminder of this encounter, colouring her flesh long after they would be done here.

A snap of Bucky’s hips has her dragged back to the present situation she is in, a choked noise leaving her lips and dying against his palm as he continues to piston his cock in and out of her, carving out a space deep inside of her. Alexia’s eyes slide closed, tears rolling down her cheeks and running rivulets over his fingers, staining his skin salty.

It is a dull kind of ache now instead of a burn, and her body traitorously responds again, creaming around the cock plunging into her depths, clenching as she gets closer and closer to an orgasm she doesn’t want, a sensation she despises now, heat building in her lower stomach.

There’s a grunt in her ear from Bucky, the only warning she gets before he digs his fingers even harder into the fat of her hip, the hand on her face almost crushing her nose, and he comes, spurting hot jets inside her, ripping away the orgasm that she’d had building, leaving her unfulfilled and shaking as he fills her up.

The room is silent again as he stops moving, leaning more of his weight against Alexia’s back which just presses her further against the wall, her tears now staining the horrible wallpaper.

“Lex?” Bucky murmurs, sounding disorientated and Alexia sobs even harder. It’s him, it’s her Bucky, she’s got him back but it’s too late.

He leans backwards, a frown crossing his face as he does so, taking in the frost forming on Alexia’s fingers, the lingering finger imprints on her hip, the wrecked state of her underwear. He sees the tears streaming down her face and the cum dripping down her thigh and he realises what he’s done.

Bucky curses, tucking himself back into his pants. “Lex-” He repeats and reaches for her but Alexia flinches away from him, turning so that her back is against the wall now and he can see how red and puffy her eyes are.

“Baby,” he tries instead and Alexia shakes her head.

“Out.” She manages to say, her voice choked and broken. “Out, James!”

He doesn’t argue, simply turns to leave, tears pricking in his own eyes that she doesn’t see after he turns his back. The door practically slams behind him and Alexia can hear the sounds of people talking outside. She doesn’t know what they’re saying, what Bucky is telling them, but she collapses to the ground, sliding down the wall and curling in on herself.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been crying to herself but the door opens eventually and Zemo walks in, shutting it behind him. He doesn’t speak at first, just crosses over to the bed and grabs the comforter, moving over to Alexia and draping it around her shoulders with a sympathetic expression.

“You poor thing.” He murmurs, stroking some hair from her face. “He really did a number on you.” Alexia flinches from the touch but it doesn’t seem to deter him, and Zemo simply tuts as he kneels down in front of her.

“It is okay.” He coos, like he is talking to a child. “You stay with me for the rest of the night. I will take such good care of you.”

Zemo's eyes are nowhere near as soft as his words but Alexia doesn't care. He's offering the comfort she so dearly needs right now, and she leans into the hand that moves from her hair to caress her cheek.

"Sweet thing." He smiles. "You are far too good for this kind of treatment, my dear." He lowers his voice, soft and almost sultry as he talks next. "Best you stay away from him. You never can trust a man like that."

[nightwngz]

im still thinking about those Hal and Kyle fics you wrote....changed my life fr 🤞🏽omg tho I had such a romantic and lovely dream about Kyle last night so I'm feeling extra fuzzy over him rn...what would non hate sex with Kyle be like? 🙈 (as much as I also love mean Kyle 🤷🏽‍♀️) i need your thoughts...

I hope you're doing well 🥰 xoxo - nightjarwings

MISSED ME, BABE?

kyle rayner x fem!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀… fluff and smut. porn without plot. dirty talk. oral sex.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲. . . Aside from my fantasies about Kyle being mean, he is such a sweetheart! So I feel like he would be super dedicated to making you feel comfortable. I hope you like what I've written. <3

Since your boyfriend confessed he was a Green Lantern, the first thing you asked was: which one of them? And you didn't ask because you thought Kyle might be that beautiful alien girl with lovely blonde hair, but because you hoped he would be that handsome dark-haired man in the distinctive white and black suit different from the others. You were right.

Because of his job, Kyle wasn't often at home, which made you suspect possible infidelity. What kind of artist would suddenly leave his home for days, even weeks, without even telling his partner? His actions made you suspicious, so when he returned, you confronted him, and he eventually confessed.

Fortunately for him, you felt relieved for a moment understanding that if he wasn't home, it was precisely because he was serving as an intergalactic law enforcement, which reassured you. However, as the weeks passed and the days without Kyle accumulated, you began to wonder why a large part of the universe had your boyfriend serving, while you waited for him at home with food ready in the fridge in case he decided to return. It was unfair.

Were you being selfish because you wished that he wouldn't save the world for just one day, but that he would lie down with you and hold you in bed instead?

What you wanted most at that moment was to be accompanied, as you sat bored with a bowl of soup in front of the TV, about to fall asleep. When people entered your apartment, they noticed pictures of you and Kyle everywhere, which forced you to face questions about why you live alone or if your boyfriend is even still alive, since he's never around the neighborhood like you are.

Just as your eyes are about to close, they quickly snap open as you hear the sound of keys turning in the door lock. Your heart begins to beat wildly, unable to believe that he has finally returned.

— Baby, I'm home... — You don't let him finish as you jump into his arms, kissing him as deeply as if millennia had passed since you last saw each other's faces. — Hey, hey, I missed you too, sweetheart.

— No 'I missed you, sweetheart' — you warn. — Fuck me now.

Kyle laughs. If he had seen how desperate you were, he would have come back much sooner. Still, he doesn't object to your request and blindly walks with you on top until he manages to place you on the table.

He is gentle when he kisses you, probably because he hasn't done it for a long time since he left. However, you apply pressure and surrender to his lips with devotion, enough for both of you to enjoy.

— I saw you on the news. — You gasp under your breath. — You have no idea what it's like to masturbate to a fucking picture on TV, a real horror movie.

Devouring your neck, his lips awaken sensations. His warm, calloused hand slides over your body, parting your thighs without removing any clothing, except your panties, of course. No matter how much time the two of you had together, it might never be enough until Kyle was needed for another mission.

— Do you want to talk about horrifying things? — he asked, tugging at your underwear. — Imagine me touching myself on an unknown planet with only a picture of you in my head. You have no idea how much I missed you, sweetheart; I was going crazy.

You melted under his touch, his kisses and his compliments. He kissed and caressed you as if it were the last time, in the warmest way anyone had ever bothered to do. It was even adorable how he took the time to lovingly caress your body while you could only think of reciprocating after such a long time.

His fingers entered your pussy. He looked at you in surprise, he had never felt you so wet before; you had practically soaked his entire hand. But he just smiled and decided to take responsibility for it.

— Baby, damn, you're dripping. Did you miss me that much, babe?

He lifted one of your legs and brought it up to his shoulder to get better access to your pussy. His thumb applied gentle pressure to your clit, first stimulating it, then circling around it, just as he knew you liked.

You groaned out loud, dropping your body onto the table. You couldn't see what Kyle was doing, but from how it felt, you were sure he was doing it right.

— Do you want me to eat you? — He asked, coming up for a kiss.

You nodded repeatedly, biting your lips to keep from making a loud noise. You're aware that your apartment is too small and that any neighbor could easily hear you.

Kyle pressed his lips against your folds, slowly sliding his tongue in and giving little licks so you could get used to the texture of his tongue again. You almost cried when you remembered that it had been long enough that you had forgotten how his tongue felt inside you.

But you pushed all thoughts aside and tried to enjoy the moment. Just as you bit down hard on your lip to stifle a moan, you nearly bled. Kyle was exploring a sensitive area of your body with his tongue and making gentle sucks with his lips.

Your hands intertwined with every strand of his black hair, gently pulling his head toward you. You looked at him with his mouth completely submerged between your legs, and the sight seemed glorious.

— Kyle, Kyle... — You sobbed softly with pleasure. — Don't stop, it feels amazing.

You could feel his lips curl into a smile over your pussy. Blood rushed to your cheeks, something that used to happen to you when you were close to orgasm, and he loved it so much that he couldn't think of anything else to do but kiss you all over.

A few minutes passed, but it felt like an instant. You filled Kyle's mouth with fluids and let out a moan that you couldn't contain and that the whole neighborhood probably heard. Still, he didn't stop until you were completely clean.

— I love you so much, sweetheart. I want to be as close to you as possible.

[itsabouttimex2]

Plot Idea: Azure Lion unknowingly had a child with his lover before his defeat and death at the hands of Sun Wukong. Subsequently leaving his lover (and future Cub) to live on without him. Maybe their mother passes away during their birth? The kid long out lives their human family and their friends and their village.

Alone, sad and bored they go off on their own to explore the city that they’ve heard traveler’s passing through their village speak off. Megapolis is a bit overwhelming for them at first but they come across Pigsy’s Noodles. Pigsy seeing this borderline feral kid looking in his shop hesitated on shooing them away and offers them some food, a few years later MK arrives and the rest is history…

They finally meet Azure with MK and Mei trying to get the scroll. The kid has no idea that he’s their dad and Azure is just shocked to see them. He sees both himself and his old lover in their features.

His kid feels extra betrayed and he can see it in their eyes when the group confronts the now reunited brotherhood. They are 100% on MK’s side and don’t hesitate to fight with the group.

Maybe they land some heavy enough hits the Azure has to leave them behind or maybe he’s able to capture them and force them to come along with him and his brothers. Though with their rather vicious stubbornness they might be more of a hinderance to his quest than he’d like. Maybe he traps them in the scroll and keeps them on his waist like he does with Wukong?

I’d love to hear your thoughts about this idea 💖

Leonine Love

This is a really fun (and kinda sad) idea! I’m a big fan, actually! I loved this so much that I wrote a little (admittedly, non-yandere) intro because this is such a creative and interesting story idea.

Just… Lion!Y/N being pried from the arms of their dead mother, taken in by humans who recall Azure not as a delusional tyrant but a hero, recalling his mighty blade and fondness for mortals. How he knelt to level with children, how he stopped to help with the harvest. Feeling as though they owe him, the village takes you in and raises your as their own, watching in awe as your leonine ears and tail come in, marveling at the cyan growths.

Through a few generations you grow from infant to child, just in time for the legends of your father’s exploits to be consigned from legend to rumor, and now all the love you were lavished with has turned to dust.

To these new folk you are more fixture than family, an ever-present individual that they merely accustom to.

No more praise or warm embraces, no further tales of your ‘heroic papa’. All that you know about him is written on an old scroll that none are allowed to touch. Each story has been carefully penned, allowing you to preserve the legacy of a father you’ve never met.

With that scroll, a notable stash of pilfered money, and the clothes on your back… you bid farewell to a village that is no longer home, trudging out to find somewhere new.

And what name do you hear again and again?

Megapolis.

A few kind strangers help you along the way, hikers and hermits pointing you to the illustrious city and sharing supplies with what they take as a hapless child.

It feels too much like how you were treated by the original villagers, a communal child to be cherished and loved. Still, you thank them and leave, still intent on seeing this city with your own two eyes.

Of course, you’ve spent all your life in a slow and quiet village, so nothing has prepared you for even a single neon billboard, much less an entire futuristic city of light and noise, electric sugar for the eyes and ears.

The photonic onslaught of blinding light sears your eyes, leaving you disoriented and dizzy. Your stomach turns in circles, empty and begging for food. A strange black post that reaches to the sky blares with sound, causing you to scatter into the back alleys.

Any note of wonder at the electric rainbows and thrumming music is dashed by now, leaving you to curl up and sob, paws clamped tightly over your ears. There’s no one to wipe your tears or ask you not to cry, no one to tell you to be strong and brave. All you can do is crawl into the nearest discarded cardboard box, feeling like a coward and an outcast as you weep yourself to sleep.

And you wake up in a cozy little store, wrapped up tight in a two-tone changpao. A scholar argues at the front counter, the porcine demon behind it looking at you cautiously.

“They’re starving, Pigsy! You can see their ribs poking out, can’t you?!”

“I can see that! I’m just not sure about feeding a demon, Tang…”

“You’re a demon! A pig demon!”

“No, that’s different! I am a perfectly respectable noodle-chef! Not some damn ‘pig demon’!”

Hic. Sniff.

The little pitiful noises draw their attention, looking upon your quivering form with split reactions.

The scholar is worried, clearly. There’s a kindness in his eyes that looks almost ancient, like it’s been passed from generation to generation. He nudges his… friend? Rival?

You can’t tell what their relationship is, really.

The pig isn’t unkind with his gaze or words- cautious, maybe a little nervous. But he grumbles to himself at the sight of tears, stomping off to his kitchen and turning on the stove.

“You better be right about this kid, Tang…”

The scholar- Tang, then, comes to you and ushers your shivering and scrawny form onto a chair, pulling the changpao tighter around you.

“It’s alright, dear,” his soft voice promises. “Just sit down and try to relax. We’ll get a nice bowl of noodles ready for you-“

“There’s no ‘we’ about this, Tang!” Calls Pigsy, his voice booming above the clatter of metal and the sizzle of oil.

Actually, they do remind you of something- the old couples in your village who had been together a little too long and thus grown sick of one another.

But those were always men and women, weren’t they?

Tentatively, you wipe your eyes and ask:

“Are you two married?”

———————————————————————-

“That’s how we met Y/N,” Tang cheerfully explains, patting your head as you fixate your eyes on the ground.

The child (or is he a toddler?) -MK, as your fathers are calling him, looks up at you, stumbling over to your slowly swishing tail. “Kitty,” he says, a new animal he’s learned from the children’s books that you gave him. Tang had gifted them to you not long after he had convinced Pigsy to take you in, and now you had given them to the new kid.

New. Younger. Cuter. No demonic features. No fangs or sharp pupils or sheathed claws.

Are you being replaced?

“Kitty,” the little one repeats, tugging on the cyan fur of your tail. “Meow.” The babbling of a toddler or at least a very young child, stilted and happy. “Kitty.”

“Very good,” Tang praises, clapping his hands to provide encouragement. “What other animals do you like, MK?”

You step out of the room just as the adorable little thing starts to make loud oinking noises.

The storage room is tiny, just big enough to fit a few people and a cleaning cart. It’s fortified in case of emergencies, serving as a tornado shelter. You’ve spent a few prospective storms in here, clinging to Pigsy and sniffling at the sound of blaring sirens. Thankfully, nothing bad had ever even come close to happening, and eventually you shifted to viewing it as almost a break from the world. Just you and your…

Guardian. Boss. Caretaker.

You want to add father to that list. But taking that first step is a terrifying ordeal, and would involve putting yourself through a potential rejection.

You don’t think you could recover from that.

Another person enters the storage room, one hand on your shoulder. It’s not rough or big enough to be Pigsy. Not warm enough, either.

“Y/N? Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine, Mister Tang.” Too fast. The words slur together, a falsity even by the first second you speak.

The freeloader sighs, lightly moving to tilt your chin up, meeting you eye-to-eye.

“You don’t come to hide in here when things are ‘fine’, dear. And you don’t slur your words like that, either. Why not tell me what’s wrong?”

“…do you think Pigsy likes MK better than me?”

“Wh-what? Y/N, why would you- dear, what’s going on?”

“…MK is a normal kid, isn’t he? He’s not some half-breed freak like me, and-“

“Y/N. I know you’ve been through a lot, but I don’t ever want to hear you say that again.”

A scholarly man with the build to match, Tang is far from strong. But he’s got just enough strength to pull you into his arms, letting you bury your head into the cloth covering his shoulder.

“Please, Y/N. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m scared that he doesn’t see me as his child,” you gasp out, clinging to Tang. “I’m not just his sous chef, tell me I’m not just his sous chef! Dad, please-“

“Dad?”

You break down a little further, legs giving out as your body struggles with the fearful anticipation of potential disappointment. You wait there against his chest, weeping.

“I don’t mind if you see me as a father figure, dear. If anything, I’m actually flattered. You don’t need to be worried about that.”

“Not mad?” You manage to spit out, face thoroughly drenched in your own tears.

“Not mad,” he confirms, patting your head. “Now, let’s dry those tears and get you something to eat. I talked Pigsy into making grilled cheese dumplings with canned tomato soup.”

A moment to compose yourself is taken, wiping your puffy eyes.

“Pigsy hates using canned food, though. He always says: “It’s a disgrace to my profession, using canned ingredients! There’s no alternative to fresh!” and then he’ll throw a spoon at whoever asked.”

“Well, MK loves them. And you know that Pigsy can’t say no to kids.”

And Tang was the only one who got spoons thrown at him, but he left that little bit out.

“Now, come on. Let’s get you to the bathroom to clean your face up. If Pigsy asks you can just say you got peppercorn dust in your eyes and needed a moment.”

The door opens, and you see the other half of this family, Pigsy and MK.

Family.

A real one, this time. Flaws and cons and stumbles thorned all along interwoven vines of love and adoration.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it was yours.

[coffin-ramblings]

The Coffin of Andrew and Renee Review Part 1: A Reused Resplendent Shroud Covering a Splintered Box

I played the Coffin of Andrew and Renee mod, and I have a lot of thoughts about it. It will be more critical than what you see so far and its breadth got so big, I have to make it into two posts. The first one will be focused on the plot beats, Andrew's and Renee’s relationship and characterization, and how the mod compares to canon. The second post will focus on my prediction for the identity of the “Homewrecker”, and how Andrew’s and Renee’s relationship here is (most likely unintentionally) written as non-physical sexual abuse.

Here is the link to part 2.

The game starts off with a hint to a flashback about Nina and Renee apparently caring about being a proper role model. Even though she casually cusses in front of her kids in canon and tells Ashley to “Cry about it” after being confronted for not helping them when she and her brother were starving for three months. Which was very jarring, but I went along anyway. It had some very funny moments, ones that have been posted all over so I won’t repeat them. Then Renee finds the can of tomatoes where she shows it to Andrew. I expected a more intense fight, but instead, Andrew just blatantly lies about why it’s in the trash, tries to gaslight his way out of it, and…compromises with her? I would’ve thought Renee would start lecturing him about lying to her, especially since it’s against their best interests and it’d be easy to portray her as being so domineering, she can make Andrew the “doormat” listen to her whenever she wants. But instead, it just shows that Andrew really isn’t that much of a doormat, even though that is his consistent personality trait in canon.

The hiding the can of tomatoes in general also makes no sense here because Ashley is impulsive enough to make it a meal quickly, while both Andrew and Renee here are strategic enough to ration it out. It feels like a copy and paste of the game that was executed with not much thought. In the original game, it immediately establishes the first impression that Ashley will ask Andrew for permission for things, Andrew will use trickery to try to keep her from getting what she wants, and while they’d fight over that, ultimately he will give in to her, seemingly because he’s a doormat. Here it gives the impression that Andrew is a liar just because and can be proactive, and Renee will not press him about any problems she sees unlike Ashley. This would have worked much better if Renee is depicted as someone who wants to do whatever she wants without a care for anything, which is somewhat her vibe in canon. However unlike Ashley, she can be persuaded to have self-restraint. 

Andrew is also weirdly way more rude and unappreciative about the meal than he was in the original game. He doesn’t act this rude in other low stress situations, and he’s not a picky eater either. He grew up poor and malnourished, he can’t be picky. He’s also way nicer to Ashley about the meal, and it serves as one of the hints that he is truly fond of her. I also expected Renee to start guilt-tripping by going “Oh it was so hard to cook this meal when I’m literally a walking skeleton!”, but she just tells him to stop playing with his food and eat it. There is no purpose to making him this rude as a first impression if he doesn’t act like this again. There’s no explanation to why he’s rude or even him apologizing for being rude to highlight how the quarantine is making the usually calm Andrew be more irritable. Ideally every character interaction should have some kind of purpose, but this doesn’t. 

It was also strange that right after, it’s revealed Renee has the balcony key, because when I inspected the balcony door before talking with Andrew, it just said that it was locked. It doesn’t give any justification for why Renee locked it or why she doesn’t want to go out right now. Sure it’s a minor detail, but it would add more reasoning or characterization to why it’s locked. The balcony key in canon is a hint of how Andrew actually has the final say on things Ashley wants to do with him, and he usually goes along because it’s what he wants, he just doesn’t want to admit it. Here, Renee with the balcony key shows she’s the one in charge at all times, which is expected, she’s the mother, but that makes her relationship with Andrew more unequal than what is intended. Maybe there’s more to it later that I haven’t thought of or haven’t seen, but who knows.

When the two want to cross to the other balcony by getting the broken shelf, Renee calls her husband “useless”, and before that, she calls him “good-for-nothing” when looking at the phone. These are all very OOC when she loves him very much and tries to assure him when he loses his job by saying “You’re too good for it anyway!”. I’d expect that even if they have some major falling out, Renee would be more bittersweet about it, like “My husband/your father is too scatterbrained. A shame since DIY building was his passion then”.

Though that scene is a relatively smaller issue than how she deals with the neighbor. She immediately starts threatening to kill him, which is very much the opposite of her trying to be normal in canon.

Why can’t she just knock on the door, yell at him to keep the music down, then threaten to call the wardens if he starts threatening her? She is not canonically that hot-headed. It feels like they made her more similar to Ashley just to balance out Andrew’s calmness, which makes no sense when Andrew takes a lot from her in personality in canon. 

We then had them watch TV. I decided to get the batteries and then turn on the TV manually, which was very funny. They hear the shitty news, and then they go to sleep. The flashback with the phone call with Julia shows Andrew seems to be actually happy with Julia, which has some possibly unintentional but still unfortunate implications on Andrew’s and Renee’s relationship. 

Or it could be Renee imagining it from her POV, which is what Andrew not saying “I love you” back to Julia suggests. But he also seems to slightly care about her more than in canon here, which also has unfortunate implications on his relationship with Renee, which will be discussed in the other post

This flashback also has a great set-up to her breaking up with Andrew because neglectful boyfriends are bad and potential shitty mother in laws are the worst, but then later…

No break-up happens. This is very unfortunate, especially with the common mindset that women have to tolerate their male partners’ mothers’ shitty behavior. The breakup also could highlight the toxicity of Andrew’s and Renee’s relationship, just like it did for Ashley and Andrew in canon. But apparently, Andrew is still with Julia, who is okay with him being apparently too busy for her and willing to commit to the long-term of dealing with his awful mother. This makes Andrew and Renee feel much softer in destructiveness than canon Andrew and Ashley, which is a compelling point of their relationship. This not happening makes Andrew and Renee less unique in comparison. 

Then the flashbacks show Renee talking with the ‘Homewrecker”. I will not talk about her here. She’s her own airtight can of suffocating worms.  

Anyway, the next day, Renee cleans up the house and passes out. I do appreciate the detail that there’s no dirt stains on the floor because she's cleaner than her kids, but what’s the point of being able to pick up the mop despite not needing it? And right after she cleans up, she passes out, but then the CG where she wakes up has her…sitting next to Andrew?

She was unconscious, why was she not lying down on his lap or the couch? Their eyes look off, Andrew looks way thinner than in other CGS, and the varying art styles of the CGs throughout the game is rather distracting, which makes me wonder how they coordinated all of the art.

And then, we get the call with Mr. Graves. He is barely even a character in canon, so it’s quite impressive how his few traits present were completely thrown out of the window here. He is very devoted and loving to Renee and he tries hard to hold down a job to support her and their children despite his own personal issues. Yet here he runs away from her, either complicit to or actively sold out her and Andrew, and apparently started a new relationship with another woman. He’s not even himself at this point, he’s just the mod’s OC wearing his skin. I’d say that is the writers’ most impressive achievement of this mod were it not easy to do. Sure it’s nice to see Renee’s insecurities out but it’s so forced by Mr. Graves being so out of character, and we could have gotten Julia breaking up with Andrew. 

Anyway we have the balcony scene, the first of several uncomfortable sexual moments throughout this mod, but much less titillating than the original because Andrew very much does not like hearing Renee talk about her sexuality and he is still grieving for Ashley. Renee thinking “Why is he still hung up over that?” is such a great moment though, props to that. 

I really have nothing much to say about lying on the floor scene in this post, so I’ll just focus on the successful demon summoning. That one was very weird for me, as Renee somehow decides that “Fuck it, time to unnecessarily commit a crime” and breaks into the apartment before the cultist dies. The demon sees her and asks who she offers, to which she offers up the cultist and after that…nothing happens. No trinket, no other reward, no Renee angsting over knowing she has a tar soul despite wanting to appear normal, no Andrew or Renee ever mentioning that she directly caused his demise. This feels like a moment to make it distinct from canon, but it falls very flat when it gets unaddressed and makes the warden sacrifice lose its impact compared to canon where he is the very first sacrifice by Ashley. 

The actions of Renee to their neighbor makes her have no care for appearing normal here, even though that is a core part of her character in Coffin and where Andrew gets his obsession to be so normal from. Her interactions with the neighbor create a huge plot hole of: if Renee is not the one insisting to appear normal, who does Andrew get his obsession from? 

But after that very weird scene, we see them chop up the cultist to eat, where the dinner was also…not very tense? Even if Renee is a better chef than Ashley, Andrew was still very nauseous at eating his body. It’d be more impactful if Renee physically forces Andrew to swallow it down like Ashley did, to show how at odds they are with each other about this. 

Versus

Horror is best emphasized when in contrast to the “normal”, which makes this scene in canon much more engaging. Ashley is very nonchalant about the cannibalism and forcefully insistent that Andrew must partake in it, even though he's reluctant about this despite it being for survival. This makes her more, well, horrifying to us and Andrew. It also is a building block to the eventual explosion of their simmering tensions, one we want to see. For Andrew and Renee, it feels more boring and not horrifying at all. In fact, it was very weird that Andrew is way nicer here than with the tomato sauce meal. That was kinda the opposite in canon. 

Versus

Why is Andrew suddenly all accepting and happy about this in the mod? Not even in Chapter 2 Burial, where he has fully decided to not give a shit about normalcy, was he happy with eating his parents. He was just being nice to humor Ashley. Now I was pretty disappointed about this, but when I decided to talk with Andrew after dinner…

My suspension of disbelief was surprisingly enduring for the past hour and fifteen minutes despite all the constant OOC-ness that drives this plot, but somehow, Andrew saying that broke it for me. At that moment, it was obvious that character consistency was not a goal for the mod. They do whatever the writers fit their fancies at the moment. Even though later Renee insists Andrew is “normal” because she’s “normal” was a nice in character moment for her and so was the Harekin story, it was too late. I just could not be that engaged with the mod anymore, knowing that what made them appealing to me can be thrown out at any moment.

I powered through the rest of the game, desperate to finish it. I was very annoyed at the major oversight of Renee waking up in Andrew’s room (despite sleeping in her own room in the scene before) and going down to the balcony to have Renee somehow know Andrew was next door cleaning up. And apparently, she knows this because he left a note on her bed saying that’s where he was, which I did not read at all, so I had to reload and find out what was happening. While I liked and was depressed at Renee seducing the warden to distract him in her home, it was annoying to go back and forth between the apartments to get blood from the warden to do the ritual. 

i also didn't like how Renee's immediate thought getting the gun was to smile and think about threatening Andrew with chores. The closest thing to Ashley doing that is yelling “YOU’RE LUCKY I LOVE YOU TOO MUCH TO NOT SHOOT!”, which was more funny because it’s in a stupid argument, siblings threaten each other without following through a lot of the time, and she actually didn’t try to get out of being choked by Andrew with the gun, so we know that she is truthful about that. I’m not sure if that was meant to be a joke or not, but it’s very much not funny. 

But the argument at the end definitely was a bad end to a pretty okay start to the mod. I have more problems with it that I’ll discuss in the next post, but for now, I’ll just do a comparison between canon. When I saw this Renee say “You let your sister take the fall of [Nina’s] death”, I expected that he’s going to start choking her immediately, and if not, soon. Soon after, Renee slaps Andrew, and I expected it to escalate to that…

…but it didn’t. It felt very anticlimactic with the lack of dynamism, thus, an explosion of the tension in the art. Compare with canon:

Andrew choking Ashley is horrifying because we realize that he can snap. That this seemingly normal and apathetic guy has his limits, and those limits can mean murdering his own sister. There is no horror to Andrew verbally threatening Renee and backing her into the corner, it feels more like he’s bluffing than actually willing to commit to matricide to evade the consequences of his crimes. It is a lot more boring and makes Renee appear more abusive to him as a result as she cowed him enough to not dare to use that against her. Andrew choking Ashley actually is a big tell that he also has power in the relationship, but he doesn’t want to show it often.

Also, him mentioning bitterly that Ashley is gone doesn’t get any major follow-up here other than Andrew going ‘You finally got rid of your daughter you always hated” and “Here lies Renee Graves, she should have had two abortions”. I would have expected him to choke her after she yells that she could have let him get sent away and tells her, “I raised Ashley because you made me. She was like a child of mine, and you let them take her away from me. I suppose it’s right for parents to avenge their kids, right?”. This would have fully established the tension between the two that it’s not Nina that made Andrew resent Renee, but Ashley. 

And what resolved the situation was...Renee saying she loved Andrew too much? Anyone who has been in a regular tense argument with a parent can tell you, saying “I love you too much” does not solve anything. It’s just overbearing and guilt-trippy and makes you even more mad. It especially is more useless to say here, because Renee here is being possessive of Andrew and he hates that. But the writers have to stick with Renee being an incredibly devoted mom even if it would not work in that situation. In fact, saying she loves him too much does not work at all when Andrew isn’t physically threatening her to gauge her desires.

It works better in canon because Andrew was choking Ashley as a calculated threat to both control her and gauge her desires. Her telling him that she doesn’t care if she dies if he wants to leave without her would have more of an impact on Andrew because he also can’t live without her and killing her will mean that is another crime he has to avoid the consequences of. Even outside of the siblings’ particular context, it would be very shocking for anyone to have their victim go “Well I don’t care about dying. If I don’t get to live with you, life is not worth living”. This makes both of them so much more fascinating. Ashley literally stakes her entire life on one person and we then don’t fully  understand why, but we want to know more. Andrew, despite his violent resentment of Ashley, seems to appreciate that, and we also want to know his perspective on it. They are very good hooks, both to learn more about their characters and see how much things can get worse. How the mod handles it does not give us hooks of its own. We just wonder what happens when they’re on the run and have Andrew’s word that he doesn’t trust Renee but he doesn’t show it, so it’s not as engaging.

After that, they go ride off with a cute bunny CG. Which was nice I guess. 

So do I like anything about the mod? Well some. I like Andrew’s literature major nerd moments. The jokes in the beginning were funny. Renee has her own distinct voice, her insecurities, and cynicism of being a woman in a very patriarchal society. However, I wished it was shown more outside of a few moments, that it is such a constant part of her that you can’t avoid. 

Despite the flashback with burying Nina happening after I started getting disengaged with the mod, it was well-done with its horror and Renee's manipulation that it kept my engagement for a while. I wished I can post the art here but I'm at the image max for this post.

However, it is soured that it feels so disjointed from the present, of how much better the mod can be. Apparently this is the moment where Renee resolves to be a better mother for Andrew, but she canonically did not give a shit about the murder, even though she knew that they were responsible for it. It’d make more sense if she’s like “Finally, I can finally get rid of that nasty girl and have Andrew, my reliable son who has so much potential to raise our socioeconomic status up, be all alone without her influence. I’m going to pay extra attention to him now.” This would make her constantly more manipulative, controlling, and guilt-tripping him, which with her high expectations, quarantine, and their crimes makes him eventually turn against her. 

So I guess I can say without any caveats and ignoring the small details, I really don’t like this mod. It had so much potential, and I played it to see how it’ll unfold with the characters I know. Instead, I got what feels like a beginner writer who just got into a new thing they like so much that they wrote a fanfic about it. The characters feel so disjointed, a critical character is written out due to the author’s preference or plot convenience, there’s meaningless changes, the conflicts are minimal between the MCs, and we have a contrived cheating cliche that serves to make at least one character look worse and another look much better. 

I see a lot of justification that it’s OOC because it’s an AU, but as this review showed, this is not a “oh the situation changed so they acted differently”. There is absolutely no rhyme or reason behind many of their actions other than it drives the plot. In fact, the mod is maddeningly boring for me because no real risks were taken to make its own identity while still being a The Coffin of Andy and Leyley game. 

The first sign of that is its title. What is the “coffin” in this game? The apartment is only relevant in the first episode, and it certainly doesn’t feel like Nina’s with how nice Renee is to Andrew (even if it should be). The major known meaning of the original game’s title is Andrew’s desire for him and Ashley to grow up from “Andy” and “Leyley” and become full-fledged adults. Why is it called “The Coffin of Andrew and Renee” here? Does that mean they’re going to die? If not physically, what is their goal that requires a part of themselves to die?

Furthermore, TCOAAL is at its core a horror game. The mod does not do anything to build upon that or make its own horror outside of the flashback, which was heavily based on what happened in canon. While this can be attributed to a majority of the fan content being smutty or shippy, if you want to make an adaptation of the game’s plot, you still need to have horror in it. It’s unavoidable as a social commentary and examination of what creates “bad” people. But Renee and Andrew are barely horrible to each other, which is a major part of the horror in the original game between the two siblings. This is a genre that ideally demands the creators be bold and daring in its entry to the world of fears and taboos, which the writers are clearly not outside of one scene.

And the final core issue of its lack of identity is that Renee is an Ashley with a different voice, one that creates more problems for Andrew’s characterization and makes her more abusive than Ashley ever was. Renee is Andrew’s mother, how she is has more of an effect on how he is and the mod forgets that. This is best seen with Renee readily charging into crimes without any good reason like Ashley did in Episode 1, Andrew somehow willing enough to admit he’s not normal, and him not really standing up to her when she slaps him at the end of the episode. This particular interaction and Renee’s role in Andrew’s life overall means she has more authority than him, which makes their relationship much more unequal than what Andrew and Ashley are in canon. Furthermore, Andrew can’t easily leave her as he can with Ashley, because she can stalk him and no one will really take it seriously because they would have more sympathy for her. If Ashley were to do that, most people would be more sympathetic to Andrew, especially since no one really likes Ashley, while Renee apparently can be popular. These problems are a reflection of the popular fanon misconceptions of Ashley as the sole abuser of Andrew in their relationship, and Andrew purely being her victim. This will be discussed in the next post.