#but how likely is it that Andrew would just shut them out anyways after that?

[quiescentdestiny]

thinking about the fact that if Neil had died in Baltimore, literally none of Andrew's family would even know he was broken as much as he was by it. Like they saw him choke Kevin, but even after Baltimore, Nicky assumed it was just a fling.

[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 fa��ade 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...

[seasirengirl]

LEO VALDEZ DATING HCS

pairing: leo valdez x reader (godly parent not specified)

a/n: sorry for the super duper slow updates, my life has been a mess🫶🏼

ೀ friends to lovers is a trope owned by leo valdez and no one can change my mind

ೀ he’s such a shameless flirt

ೀ nicknames in spanish.

ೀ i repeat

ೀ nicknames in spanish.

ೀ he’s such a fun person to be around

ೀ always cracking jokes and all that

ೀ but

ೀ hold up

ೀ he doesn’t crack jokes at times when you don’t feel like hearing them, even though he’s known for doing that to others, you’re his exception

ೀ you two went everywhere together

ೀ quest? together

ೀ spending nights at bunker 9? not without you

ೀ he felt guilty for making you stay there though

ೀ but then you started ranting about how much you loved staying there

ೀ and he just couldn’t say no to you

ೀ or your pretty face

ೀ but we all know that you didn’t really think bunker 9 was the most comfortable place to sleep in

ೀ you just wanted to stay with your repair boy

ೀ after being two idiots who were very much in love but would never admit it

ೀ your friends got sick of it

ೀ y’know what that meaaannssss

ೀ at first percy and annabeth started talking about it

ೀ apparently piper and jason also had discussed it before (mostly piper)

ೀ frank and hazel are just there yknow

ೀ chilling

ೀ with no clue about what’s going on

ೀ anyway

ೀ doing very couple-ish things all together

ೀ there were eight of you.

ೀ obviously meaning that

ೀ you and leo had to be dragged into all of that

ೀ which neither of you complained about

ೀ but you wouldn’t say it

ೀ going on carnival dates <3

ೀ well they weren’t technically dates for you and leo

ೀ but they felt like dates

ೀ the other six ditched you every second

ೀ and you two still managed to be clueless

ೀ smh

ೀ honestly thank the gods for piper

ೀ when you AND leo both found out about your feelings at the same time

ೀ you were both ranting to her

ೀ cause she’s the daughter of aphrodite

ೀ ykyk

ೀ and also a great friend

ೀ but she needed a break atp

ೀ hearing both of you yap about each other not knowing that the other feels the same

ೀ until one day she had ENOUGH

ೀ bro was tired fr

ೀ so she decided to make both of you a bit jelly

ೀ not a bit tbh, a lot

ೀ yk, telling leo that the new guy from cabin 7 was talking about asking you out

ೀ or telling you that one of her sisters were going to make a move on leo at the bonfire tonight

ೀ leo couldn’t let some guy try to make a move on his girl

ೀ and you couldn’t either

ೀ so

ೀ both of you decided to confess at the same time

ೀ leo walked up to you just as you were about to find him

ೀ “can we go somewhere private?”

ೀ such a simple sentence left you speechless, only managing a nod

ೀ “i don’t want you to go out with him” leo blurted out

ೀ “with who?” you asked, did you have a date you forgot about?

ೀ “andrew, the new guy from 7?”

ೀ “i’m not going on a date with him, oh wait- piper...”

ೀ silence. total silence.

ೀ “i have something to-“

ೀ “i have to tell y-“

ೀ you couldn’t help but laugh at that, “go ahead.”

ೀ“i would say ‘ladies first’, but i have to say this, ever since i stepped a foot in camp, i’ve had a crush on you, so will you do the honors of being my girl?”

ೀ “i’d love to.”

ೀ “so would it be okay if i-“

ೀ “shut up, valdez”

ೀ and he did shut up, because his tongue was too busy being down your throat

ೀ ok what.

ೀ anyway

ೀ after that night, your friends wished they never set you two up

ೀ they were just jealous that you two were a better couple than them

ೀ or that’s what you thought

ೀ leo was actually the best boyfriend you could ask for

ೀ he would make you the coolest gifts ever

ೀ any kind of jewellery a girl could dream of

ೀ he made it

ೀ flowers that never die, all yours

ೀ honestly you can’t recall a night that you haven’t slept without leo in winter

ೀ slept.

ೀ he kept you so warm when it was cold out

ೀ cause he’s your fireboy

ೀ he’s so touchy and always has to have his arm around you somehow

ೀ but he wouldn’t be much of a pda guy

ೀ especially it it makes you uncomfortable.

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 44

PREV

The flight up to New York is a pleasant one.

The time in the airport itself had been less pleasant. Matt, as it turns out, is a firm believer in arriving with just enough time to check a bag, get through security, and get to the gate. He had claimed up, down, left, and right that he had it down to a science.

No matter how many times Smith had wondered about the scientific rigor of this 'science' he still kept it to himself. There was no need for Smith to voice his uncertainty with this plan because Kevin well and truly had it covered.

"You're giving us only an hour to check bags, get through security, and get to our gate?!" Kevin demands.

"Kevin, if you wanted to be there earlier then you could have asked Andrew to give yo a ride." Matt says. "We'll be fine."

"You know what Neil and Andrew get like when they have a long roadtrip ahead of them." Kevin argues.

"All lovey-dovey?" Nicky asks as Aaron makes a gagging sound.

"No, well yes, but no they always stop and buy all of the worst food too." Kevin reminds. "I'm just concerned about us missing our flight! We have barely enough time!" Kevin huffs crossing his arms.

"You're wrong anyways." Aaron says idly as he continues to text with Katelyn.

"How am I wrong?!" Kevin demands.

"We also have to park within that hour that Matt has left us with." Aaron says looking up from his phone.

"Matt!" Kevin squawks.

"It'll be fine." Matt reassures for the 2nd time.

"We all have checked bags!" Kevin exclaims, "What if we miss our flight?!" he wails.

"It'll be fine!" Matt repeats.

"No it won't!" Kevin exclaims.

---

It was fine.

The only real delays they met were at security.

Smith prided himself on being efficient in the security line. He has his watch off, his phone and ID secured in a zipped jacket pocket, his backpack and electronics in separate trays, and his shoes ready to be slipped off.

So he was shamed to have been the cause of the first delay when the TSA agent wouldn't wave Smith through the metal detector since she didn't realize he was there. That had been a whole anxiety attack and a half as the line had formed up behind him all wondering what the hold-up was.

Finally she seemed to startle as she realized that Smith had been standing there waiting and waved him through.

The other delay was that Kevin got patted down after he had forgotten to empty his 'emergency' water bottle.

It was probably for the best that they didn't have to be in the airport for that long. Every announcement that it was very important to not leave your bag unattended made him worry that with every blink somehow someone had slipped a bomb into his backpack.

While it was on his back.

As he was running with the rest of his friends to their gate.

"It just had to be the gate on the other end of the terminal." Aaron huffs.

"It would have been 100% perfect if someone hadn't left their water bottle in their bag despite the, let me check, 3,820 signs that said remove all liquids from your carry-ons!" Matt says as they continues to run.

"I said I forgot!" Kevin yells back from his spot at the front of the pack. Smith was under the distinct impression that Kevin was keeping pace with them since he had seen the Striker move much faster on the court and during warm-ups.

"We could have forgiven that!" Nicky pants, "Why did you have to slam the whole thing to prove that it was 'just water'?" he asks.

"Because I wanted to prove I wasn't a national security threat!" Kevin says. "I'll be going to the Olympics in a couple years and I can't have that on my record." he continues as he rounds a corner.

"What record?!" Smith asks suddenly worried that there was a record.

"Smithy, there's no record Kevin's just an idiot. An idiot who got patted down, tested for explosives, and had his carry-on searched." Nicky huffs.

"You don't know that there's not a record! The record everything nowadays!" Kevin huffs and their gate is in sight.

"Kevin, just shut up!" Aaron exclaims as they reach the line for their flight.

"Wait why aren't any of you getting shitty with Smiths?!" Kevin asks.

"His delay was like a minute and more importantly NOT HIS FAULT!" Nicky defends.

"He should have just walked through!" Kevin argues.

"Oh it's fine if he gets a record but not you?!" Aaron asks.

"So there is a record?!" Smith asks again.

They reach the line and the largely empty area around their gate is more than enough evidence that this was the final boarding. Smith breathed a sigh of relief as he took his place in line behind Nicky.

"The lines pretty slow, I'm going to go get a water." Kevin says and before any of them can say anything he is off towards a busy looking Newsweek store.

"I cannot believe him." Aaron huffs.

"All that water he just drank and is about to drink? He has lost window seat privileges." Matt pants wiping sweat from his brow.

"Agreed." Nicky says.

Smith laughed between panting breaths. His stomach hurt a bit from the stress of running but it was fine.

They get on the plane without Kevin and head to their seats. Most of the overhead storage is taken up at this point but Smith slides his bag under the middle seat in front of him after Matt

In the end, Kevin barely made it onto the plane in time since he got caught up in deciding on water. "You're in my seat." Kevin says as the only man not yet seated.

"I am not about to spend this flight getting up every 2 minutes because you have to pee." Matt says, "Abby didn't used to need to take all those pitstops when we're on the bus." Matt adds.

"I hate the aisle, the cart could hit my legs." Kevin argues.

"Then you can sit in the middle if Smith's willing to move." Matt says.

"You can have the middle Kevin." Smith offers actually preferring the aisle seat since then he doesn't have to ask anyone to move for him.

"I hate the middle seat, there is no room." Kevin crosses his arms.

"Smith is like only 3 inches shorter than you and he's not complaining." Matt continues.

"It's an important 3 inches."

"I bet it is."

"Nicky, are you serious?"

"What?!"

"There is an uninvolved member of the public, right there."

"He's wearing headphones it's fine!"

---

It's fine.

Eventually Kevin takes the middle seat if for no other reason than Matt stubbornly pretends to go to sleep but absolutely does not want the aisle seat either.

Smith gives it up and ends up with his own preferred seat while Kevin pointedly takes both of the arm rests, as is his right. The plane ride progresses smoothly from there. Smith has always liked flying. There is always a sense that the second that he gets onto the plane and the door closes he has absolutely zero control over what happens afterwards.

That is a nice comfort.

He pays attention to the safety briefing, finds his nearest exit, and that he should secure the bag over his own face before securing it on Kevin's.

He puts his headphones on and tries not to think about the anxiety of meeting the 'girls'.

He has heard much about the 'girls'.

Allison Reynolds. Allison was someone who's legacy existed even outside of the team. Smith didn't know much about fashion but a Reynolds bet remained a solid practice within Palmetto. She was, undeniably, absolutely gorgeous and if Kevin was to be believed 'kind of a bitch'. Nicky had swatted his arm but had said that it was not entirely inaccurate but like 'in the best way'.

Dan Wilds. He met Dan. Dan was nice. Also, if Matt was to be believed, the best human to ever walk the planet earth. The reason the sun rose in the east and set in the west. The gravitational pull that held the universe together. If Andrew is to be believed, she's fine.

Renee Walker. Renee was the one who taught Andrew how to use knives. His friend has talked warmly of her, in the way that Andrew talks warmly about anyone which is mentioning them at all. She was the one that Smith was the most anxious about meeting.

Kevin turns his nose up at the ginger ale that Smith gets but he's allowed these now per his actual doctors orders.

1 hour left until arriving at JFK.

He hopes this ginger ale is enough to calm his stomach since he's still not allowed Pepto.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

[shiberamune]

some personal breakfast club hcs because im feeling sad and this movie is my comfort rn :) <3

-john pierced his ears himself, it is miraculous how they arent infected

-claire secretly likes weird-ish stuff like allison, she wants a pet leopard gecko and she likes snakes too

-they all let each other bunk at each other's houses if they need to, like brian will let john stay at his house if his dad's being a prick, or andrew lets allison spend the night if she just wants to get out of her house

-my personal hc of their lives afterwards? they all live together and help each other get over the familial trauma/problems they experienced

-brian is a pokemon fan. i know pokemon didnt exist yet in the 80s but i know he would be one. and he always picks grass starters

-allison steals stuff for the others 24/7. claire wants a necklace? it's in alli's purse. john sees a cool switchblade he wants? alli's in the process of shoving it in her shoe

-andrew one time wore a dress from claire's closet to see what it would be like and john caught him. john, of course, never shuts up abt it

-andrew is the mom friend. i just feel this in my bones.

-and john is the most protective. he will find someone's house if they pick on allison or brian. only he can do that

-they all played spin the bottle one time, and this led to andrew and john having to kiss

-they liked it. they never told the others.

-brian will help the others study. he saved john's ass from flunking school as a whole

-they're all very physical with each other. always giving each other hugs or little affectionate touches. john and allison are weird about it at first, so the others take their time with them

-andrew has a guy purse

-since the movies take place in the same universe/school, i like to believe brian and cameron from ferris bueller's day off are friends

-same for ferris and andrew, or claire and sloane

-allison likes to blurt out weird/grim/niche facts she somehow knows from time to time and the others are just like "neat, thanks queen"

-john likes system of a down. again, not from the 80s, but im projecting here

-every friend group needs 1 dr pepper obsessed friend, and that is allison

-claire somehow convinced john to let her do makeup on him. he said he'd only do it if she bought him beer or cigarettes after

-john and andy are brian's wingmen. if he thinks a girl is cute, john and andrew are already plotting how they'll get brian to talk to her

anyway, that was a lot sorry 💖 idrc if not a lot of people see these, this was mostly just to make me feel better. but also i like providing for this somewhat small fandom :)

[lemon-idol]

✰ booth seat | andrew kreiss

NSFW, afab! reader, you/your pronouns, wc: 4.7K, fast paced (i just wanna fuck him bro) In which the stoic and gruff Train Conductor and the Agent (you) use their time alone wisely. third POV (them/themself) on ao3 !! Train Conductor is described to be smug and cocky ehe get it

BTW I’M FIXING THE FORMAT I KNOW IT LOOKS WEIRD 😭😭

The rattling of the infinite train brings Andrew out of his thoughts.

There was a new addition to the train that had been plaguing his mind as of late.

He knew that you knew that he has been suspecting you. Which is probably why he finds himself always lingering near you throughout the endless night. He could feel your burning gaze everytime he strolled past the quarters you were staying in- not that he minded the attention. Which leads us to his current position. With the yearn for your gaze again, Andrew finds himself walking down the familiar hallway where your room was stationed.

Though on the side eyeing the designated window, he doesn’t find you in your compartment this time, which causes him to lift an eyebrow. As if his mind were an open book, it’s slammed closed after he feels a tap on his shoulder. Turning, his eyes land on the lanky figure of the Sheriff before him. The blonde’s permanent smile didn’t waver nor did it grow as he raised three fingers and motioned with his other hand to the door behind Andrew. Grateful, yet slightly embarrassed at being found out, the gruff man huffs through his nose and leads the way towards the following car.

He nods to you, the Agent, as he passes by and sits at the dining table behind them.

How the Sheriff was suspicious of you, but not Andrew yet leaves him a little puzzled. He knew Grantz would attempt to ask about the Agent’s mission and the lead up on how they appeared on the train, so he knew his interest as Conductor would not seem odd.

Although before he can lean back comfortably, he notices the fidgeting before Victor could even begin to pry out any information. This causes Andrew to clear his throat before standing up. The booth cushions squeak as they rise again for his company. “If you are too uncomfortable with talking to them, I’ll do it for you. Don’t rush your work, Mr. Grantz,” he clarifies, taking his coat off to place it on the back of the booth.

The blonde bows his head in return, mumbling out “Thank you, sorry”. Despite being a Conductor, Victor is aware of the albino’s experience. He is a quiet man but he can keep conversation when it comes to interrogations. Knowing that he has all the time in the world on the train, Grantz easily surrenders to sharing his work.

The blonde’s head snaps back up as if he had a lightbulb spark above his head, “That reminds me, a child was accompanying them too, right? Is it alright if I go speak with him while you interrogate (L-Name)?”. The broad man nods, “I do not mind- in fact, I prefer working alone in these situations.” Victor nods in return, relieved for his senior’s understanding of his well-being.

He bends down near the table in the narrow row to gather his dark leather case and give Wick a small rub on the nose.

Patting the back of his uniform as he heads to the door, he stops to bid farewell at the Conductor. The albino interrupts before he can speak, however, “Oh, I would like to mention, you do not need to come back here. I am sure that I will wrap this all up in a bit so you can head back to the first car after speaking to the child”.

The Sheriff's smile seems to widen in admiration at his confidence, “Alright, good luck and goodnight”. He nods to you and you respond back with a polite smile as he inserts his fingers into the opening once again and descends into the lit hallway after sliding the door shut.

Andrew waits a moment before walking towards the door. His uniform crinkles as he reaches up to the clips holding the curtains and releases them. Now, there will be no onlookers peering into the dining car as it was reserved for the very few staff anyway. Setting the clips aside, he walks back to where you are sitting, crossing his arms and leans against the clothed table.

Moments pass and you two are still gazing at each other, waiting for the other to speak up.

You sigh and rest your head on your hands, “So, what is it that you need out of me?”

Removing his gloves slowly, Andrew’s expression stayed the same, although the bottom of his eyes seemed to curl up just a bit to indicate the ghost of a smile. You raise an eyebrow as the Conductor strides to the booth seat, abandoning the silk white gloves onto the table before you and places a single hand on your jaw. He places a knee onto the booth seat before leaning down so there was only a bit of room left between your faces. Andrew runs his thumb back and forth on your cheek and you suppress a shiver at the feel of the gentle and cold cradle.

“Depends on how much I can get out of you.”

At that statement, you tilt your head up further to respond, “However much you need.”

Well, it seemed like he needed your cum out of you by the way you found yourself on top of him not long after.

You straddle the man’s lap, your plush thighs resting on either side of his.

It didn’t take long for you to give into his charm, but the other way goes around too. Hell, he even turned away their best (and only) officer just for the opportunity to get you two alone.

“Is this alright?”

“Kind of too late to ask now.” he scoffed, though the grip he had on your hips opposed the tone of his statement, relieved that you took the step forward.

“Hm,” your lips quirk up a bit before leaning in closer, your noses right by each other as you whispered, “Don’t act like you didn’t start this.” Preferring to get his dick wet rather than talking, Andrew closes the last bit of space and indulges in the tightened grip that was at the base of his neck. Your lips move against each other in a desperate cling, tongues slightly brushing the other’s lips but never fully entering. His lips leeching onto your bottom lip almost fooled you into thinking it was that of a lover’s embrace.

You felt the vibration of his groan on your lips when you ground your hips against his in search of slight friction, though it was hard to seek due to his uniform. His chapped lips collided with yours wonderfully, your tongue providing the nourishment he needed. With each move of his lips, his goal was seemingly to rid of the air in your lungs as you felt them begin to burn a bit. Hearing you inhale sharply through your nose had him pushing his head further into you, tongue sneaking out to pry your mouth open

You move back and smile a bit as he chases your lips, slightly annoyed that you ended the session so early. You tug at both of your guys’ collars to indicate that you want the hindrances gone. He rolls his crimson eyes but complies with your request seeing at how hard you were panting; seriously, you’re an Agent but your lungs couldn’t last that long? He begins to wonder if you were a behind the scenes agent rather than on the field. Yet he can’t help but bring his lips to yours again, purposely creating a small smack and letting his lips linger after separating.

Andrew took his time before his hands reached for your collar. Andrew did not indulge in the idea of him and his partner being fully unclothed; it felt too vulnerable, too exposed. Though he does have an exception if they’re in bed where they’re both covered with a blanket. He believed that clothes are what makes beauty stand out more, that they are simply displayed to frame people’s bodies. Similar to a red curtain unveiling the wonders, joy, and surprises of a play.

He leans forward to capture your lips again, occupying his hands by unbuttoning the mahogany shirt you were wearing. You jolted here and there whenever his bare, cold hands would caress your stomach as he moved down. He removes a hand to gently lay it onto your burning back and leans you over the edge of the table.

With you spread out and disposed to him, he can finally indulge into his fantasies. He grips the sides of your covered chest and presses them together as if he were a cat making metaphorical biscuits. He lays small pecks on your neck and trails down to the skin that your undergarment failed to cover; as much as he wanted to feed on you, it was far too cold to let them out. He opens his mouth and closes it all around the top of the chest as your skin sunk into his mouth, he is mimicking making out with the soft bosom. His thumbs make lazy circles around the nipples through the garment and you let out small sighs to encourage his ministrations. His teeth graze the skin each time, always on the verge of leaving a mark. But Andrew knew how dangerous it was to claim something on this train, something he has dreaded ever since his gaze landed on the ethereal being before him.

You let him play around a bit more before tapping and letting out an airy giggle at the furrow of his eyebrow. He gives himself a few more love bites and licks before he lifts his head from in between your breasts. He lets his chin rest in the valley of them, looking at you quizzically through one half lidded eye. You smile a little as you pet his head before speaking, “It’s a little unfair that I’m the only one semi-uncovered, don’t you think?”

The Conductor pretends to ponder for a moment before sighing, clicking his teeth three times to mimic a “tsk” sound. “It’s not unfair, I am simply doing my duty of revealing your secrets as part of the interrogation,” he replies, before continuing his doting on your chest. You let out a huff of amusement before you lift yourself up from the table and cradle his head as he refuses to move from your chest and slide onto his lap again, “You know, maybe they should interrogate you too.”

You glide your hand along his jawline before dipping under his chin to peck his neck. You move your face back up to his where his defined milky face waits and lightly grip his hollow cheeks together. “You’re not exactly truthful to your staff either,” you whisper as his uncovered eye narrows at the implication.

Placing his hands under your thighs, he made a motion to move you up to strip you of the dress pants and undergarments you were wearing. However, the liminal space only allows the clothing to get to their knees.

You’re not as bothered about this as Andrew is but he lets it slide as he indulges in your addictive lips once again. He moves one of his hands from your hips to in between your legs and runs two of his fingers up and down your slick to gather some up. You shudder at the ghost of his touch before wrapping your arms around his neck and giving his head a small squeeze to get him to stop teasing. He slowly departs from the kiss and instead moves to smooth lingering kisses around your mouth. He does it as an attempt to comfort you as he finally inserts the two fingers into you.

He’s patient with it, though he’s having a hard time controlling himself as it practically sucks him in with little resistance.

“I don’t even have to do much, hm?”

“Yeah...hah. I put in a bit of effort and made it easier for you,” you retaliated as he continued to softly press kisses on your jaw before snapping down to your collarbone and digging his teeth into your skin, his tongue then leaving a streak to soothe the sudden attack. Andrew proceeded to curl the fingers that were inside of you. He repeated the process at an agonizing pace, but the sudden force when he reached deep was enough to make you sigh in pleasure into the crown of his head. The arm that was wrapped around you tightened in an attempt to bring you even closer.

With his large hand practically cupping your crotch at this point, he uses his thumb to move one of the folds to reveal your clit. He moved the hand that was on your waist down to your lower back to push your hips forward. He pressed the heel of his other hand onto your crotch, followed by circular motions as his fingers paused inside of them. The addition of his callous hands on where you truly wanted it made you gasp and grasp his shoulders as your forehead fell onto his. Andrew stared at your flushed expression; the slight twitch of your flaming cheekbones, the open mouth where your tongue almost came out, and the disorientation of your eyes had him gaping. He almost stopped altogether to just simply cherish a view he didn’t think he’d get tonight.

You slightly grit your teeth and let out a whimper to signal the lack of coordination in his movements. He heard your dejected whine and he attempted to move, however he found it hard to do so in the cramped booth. He clicks his teeth as he settles to focusing on stimulating your clit; it had you jolting your hips and your breath quickened at the same time as he sped up. The contact of the burning moans on his ear had shivers travel down his spine and he found himself squirming a bit as well. His pants couldn’t hold much longer either, it was getting painful for him.

As you kept letting out broken moans above him, he felt your thighs enclosing around him which gave him the hint that you were about to cum. Andrew let the two fingers go in till the knuckle where he moved them in opposite directions, attempting to open you for him. He felt you open your mouth once again as if to speak, to warn him of what was coming, but he paused his motions. He tossed you an apologetic gaze the moment you slumped against him in disappointment of not receiving your climax when you were so close to it.

“As much as I’d love to see your expression, it might be easier and less tiring for you to move the other way,” he grumbles into your cheek. His arm lets go of its steel grip and he removes his hand from where it belonged, leaning back to give you space to turn around. You give him an unimpressed look as you try to catch your breath and lift yourself with shaky legs. Without shame, Andrew watched the display of your ass before you settled down into his lap again after turning around. Andrew notices the imprints on your skin where his touch was, his gaping mouth twitching upwards at the corner before placing his hands onto your sides once more.

With your loosened button down, he takes the opportunity to move it down to your forearms, kissing the skin that the shirt slowly revealed. He moves his mouth back up to your nape to nibble here and there, causing you to chuckle and cup the side of his head. He tightens his arms around you in a hug, his broad build encasing you from the biting cold that lingers in the car.

“You ready?” he mumbles into your flaming ear; you hum and eagerly nod. He pinches your thigh and moves his other hand up to cup your jaw, “Nuh-uh, I need a verbal confirmation.” You roll your eyes despite your heart fluttering at his demand for assurance and turn your head to the side to make eye contact with that gleaming ruby of his, “Yes, sir, I am ready to have my insides annihilated by you.”

Andrew holds back from barking a laugh, “You’re lucky you’re cute, that phrase was a little cringy.” You turn your head back to face forward, to avoid having a sore neck (though those “soft bites” were starting to make themselves known), and replied with “I know you’d love to, and maybe even more.”

“Hm, you got me there”, and wasting no more time, Andrew grips your hips once again and pushes them up so they hover just above his tip so he can use his other hand to grip his dick. The hand on the grip smooths over the hipbone when he feels your legs wobble a little. Knowing he was on the bigger side, Andrew attempted his best at inserting slowly but your anticipation rattled throughout your entire body. Your mouth began to open little by little from the pressure of being spread, your expression twitching in frustration of his size. Yet in the brief moment of numbness, you are still able to register the guttural groan that escapes Andrew.

Suddenly, you can feel Andrew further stiffen due to realizing too late that there were footsteps outside. Both of you were too caught up in the moment and it causes you to move in shock as you hear the farthest door on the other end of the car slide open.

“Shit-”

“Ah!”

In a frantic and panicked motion, you slam down onto him, both of your guys’ hips slotting into each other which creates an unwanted “slap!”. Andrew shoves his face into your upper back in an attempt to not let out a noise. Your thighs trembled at the uncomfortable stretch, wanting to have gone slowly, but the Sheriff’s entrance made you both lose whatever composure you were clinging to. Andrew let out a low groan into your neck before scrambling to get both his coat and a notepad out onto the table to set up a scene. He draped his navy coat over your laps and struggled to keep the pen still.

Victor waddled up to the booth you were both sitting at, holding his own trusty notepad. Andrew straightened up the closer the Sheriff got, pulling back the coat enough that it wrapped around his own hips. Despite your strange position, the Sheriff gave a light smile nonetheless before flipping over the notepad in his hands- maybe the temperature in this car was lower than in the others?

The Conductor eyed the writing and the notepad, ignoring the burning side eye you were giving him at his lackluster response in driving the Sheriff away. You hate how composed he seems, while you were here holding your breath, anticipating for any friction. In your frustration, you subconsciously tightened your insides which caused Andrew to stutter as he began to respond to the Sheriff’s writing.

Feeling the throb of his dick in you had you smirking behind your hand before it was your turn to stiffen up again when you feel a slight graze on your clit- a silent threat to get you to stay still.

Despite being able to respond to all of Victor’s written questions, the Conductor’s mind was elsewhere; he thought about how warm the person on top of him was, how soft they were on top yet rough below, the stretch marks on the insides of their thighs worth memorizing. Ah, thank whatever God was out there that he had experience on how to keep his composure due to his job, but it was hanging on by a thread at this point.

Most of what Victor was saying came in one ear and left the other, his mind too preoccupied with his current sensitivity.

He shows Andrew the notepad again with what was conversed with the child. But upon noticing the half-hearted nods and “Got it”s from Andrew, the Sheriff grows quiet. Victor concludes what he needed to say and bows his head as a silent farewell. Relieved about the possibility of getting into action again, Andrew tries to give him an apologetic smile, knowing he is not the best with words (but neither with expressions…).

Andrew shuffles forward to hand the blonde the notepad, the friction having your thighs close and meet each other. The moment Victor turns away, you shuffle your hips in a seesaw motion, similar to a runway walk, unable to resist the irritation growing inside of you. Andrew’s lips pull back, revealing slight fangs as his hand traveled up your front, fingers spread out as he used his palm to push against your abdomen, driving you further back into him. You stifle the groan that threatened to come out from your throat. Victor’s honey but sharp eyes glance over at you, finally noting your low but consistent sounds.

Your eyes crinkle while trying to maintain a wobbly smile in order to mask the turmoil your body was in to just be railed properly. About to write his concern, Grantz finally caught a glimpse of your attempt to hide the cleavage that was revealed from the open shirt. His body perks up as straight as an exclamation point before he scrambles out of the car faster than before, blood draining from his face but rushing to his ears.

Andrew’s attentive ears focused on Victor’s retreating footsteps; the car was silent aside from the rattling of the windows as the train blasted through the snowstorm. Confirming that there was no other noise besides that, he leans back, his hands reclaiming their throne on your hips as he lifts you and pulls back his hips as far as the seat allows him, observing his dick leaving your pussy halfway. Ha, it seems that staying in the still position is best to mold you into his shape now that your body begs for what he has to give.

He stays still for a moment and your coming protest is replaced by a low “ah” as he pushes himself back in. He repeats the motion, causing you to move your hips to begin bouncing each time your hips collide. Gripping the table to use as a stabilizer, you can’t help but crumble over the edge of it, that growing itch inside of you finally starting to relinquish. Being so full while hearing the low grunts of the man behind you has your insides twisting. You would be lying if you were to say that that itch didn’t begin growing once you saw more and more of him the past week you arrived. Though there was another catalyst to your neediness.

Having no one else to relieve the growing tension might also be the cause of why Andrew couldn’t help but grip tighter around your body. He wraps his arm below your breasts, his muscles flexing under his button up. The regret of not completely taking off your clothes seeps in for a second before it leaves again when a low moan leaves you. A burst of feeling broke in him, but it was soon muffled by the intensity of lust. His lips attached themselves to your skin in an attempt to memorize your taste, to maybe become one. The overwhelming crave for intimacy was what brought you two together in the first place and honestly? He wouldn’t have it any other way. Which is why he cared a little less about potentially being caught and let the dam break.

Such paced and shallow movements left all proper sentences to dissolve into the frigid air.

Drowning in your own bliss, you’re a little surprised at the sudden noises that emerged from Andrew’s throat. His rapid breathing and the drum of his heart could be felt throughout your entire body. You respond to his passion with your own airy groans and whines, rolling your hips to meet him the more you became lost in each other’s heat. Despite being so talkative earlier, the Conductor lost the ability to say anything, only mumbling out small praises and sighs.

“Almost…”

Was all you needed to know as Andrew’s gaping mouth made its home where your ear meets your jaw. You couldn’t help the ego boost that ran through your body knowing you reduced such a rigorous man to a grunting mess. Yet it passed when you felt the crawling sensation that went through your lower parts and braced for the impact of that euphoria.

Your body processed the climax before your brain could; your body jolted and tightened in an attempt to be replenished and the man behind you slammed his hips two more times before going stiff as well. Your eyes fluttered as you felt his cum spurt along your insides, the odd sensation made your hips move a bit as if to rub it properly in you. Your legs twitch in sync with his own small thrusts as he accidentally stimulates both of you even further.

Then you two stay still, your bodies adjusting and remembering the pulse and sensation of one another. Chests move up and down, minds recovering from the epitome of bliss.

With your mind still a bit frazzled, you mumbled, “Next time I should be quieter…”. Upon hearing this, Andrew leaned forward to peck your ear; you shiver as his hot breath travels down your neck, “Oh? So there will be a next time. We can go for a proper round right now if you’re that desperate for more.”

You ponder for a moment before your mind flashes back to the quiet officer that stumbled on you two earlier. “This might not be the best place to continue, even if I wouldn’t mind having an audience,” you sighed as you leaned forward to remove the soft member inside of you, despite wanting it to stay there. Andrew raises an eyebrow at the end of your statement before moving up as well and reaching over to the middle of the table where there’s a canister of napkins. He grabs a couple in between each finger before settling back into the seat and gripping the ass of you who is still bent over. “Stay still,” he whispers out before dragging one of the napkins up your crotch to soak up your slick. You jump at the caress as you feel your pussy still tingling. He continues to wipe your folds and clean any evidence of his cum, much to his displeasure.

Forgetting that he didn’t reply to your sentence earlier, the Conductor says in a sultry tone, “But you know…that is a good idea”. You didn’t even need to turn to see the faint mischievous smile on his face.

Once he finishes with wiping you clean, he graciously pulls up your underwear and dressing pants before giving your ass a smack and reveling in the recoil. Your brow twitches before you step sideways to get out of the booth, putting most of your weight on the table. The Conductor follows you and gathers his items before placing them back into the slightly damp coat that had fallen victim to his sweat. Placing it in his shoulders again, he places a hand on your lower back and turns to you to stare down at your flustered state.

Not being able to resist the man’s quiet antics any further, you reach out your hand to cup his hollow cheek. He gets the message and leans down, your lips meeting once more in a soft press. No rush, no tongue running past their teeth, just a simple lock that lasts a few seconds before you both gradually pull away.

With the final kiss of the night, you step back away from each other, still feeling the lingering warmth Andrew had on your skin. You both walk forward and past each other; him towards the front car and you to your sleeping quarters. Neither of you needed to look back because you knew that you would see each other again; it is the inevitable fate on this forever running train.

[adm-starblitzsteel-4305]

Based on your post @sassyassblog 😁:

P.S. I'm using the MonsterVerse Kaijus as humans since this is also from my GenAU MV Edition. So no worries.

Here's the scenario:

"Man..." thought Godzilla as he walked tiredly towards his mansion, "I need a quick nap..."

Turning around making sure no one was sneaking at him, he knelt down to the front door and snag a key he secretly kept from a carpet. He opened the door and enter before closing it shut.

The man took off his shoes and socks before putting it on a casket beside the door. His darkish black to navy blue hair is in mess due to the extreme heat back from where he work at a city and also in due course of his job. As usual, he often comes late at home since his wife, Mothra, usually is first to arrived home shortly before himself.

Still, she's not here, so maybe Godzilla need an extra free range of their cozy house. Once his wife arrived home, he smirked at the deal that he told her a few days ago.

He needs to arrange a few things.

It was already 5:15 PM, Godzilla thought about his best friends. Most likely, Rodan, Anguirus and Kong were sometimes having a sleepover with him (which Mothra denies it for their unruly manners, something that Godzilla feared for her anger), only for 2 days. Or even a week if there's an activity going around the mansion he and Mothra owned. Currently, Rodan had finally found a job as a chef from a local restaurant, Anguirus deliberately needed to pass an exam to be a history teacher, and Kong...well...he's still a policeman and work tirelessly to earn some savings for his adoptive deaf daughter Jia and her adoptive mother Ilene Andrews.

Success earns hardwork and support, that's something Mothra - yes, she is a science and art teacher - reminded them for their lives.

Anyway, just as Godzilla was about to head upstairs...

"LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOKK AT ME~"

He jumped from a sudden breakout of a familiar voice that scared the shit of his pants. Well, whoever broke in to his home without permission shall get the beat out of their shit in no mercy, he swore it.

Instantly, the man heard a sound of a running water coming across the bathroom (the door was practically open slightly). Carefully not to make any noise, Godzilla tiptoed from the source, only for his eyes scanned from something he just ever seen in the entire motherfucking world.

"WHAT THE FU-"

"TELL ME WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATT YOU SEE~"

Standing in the middle of a shower is none other than RODAN!

By the looks of it, his back was on a curtains, showering by himself, and practically naked (well, half naked to be exact). The fiery red haired Mexican man didn't seem to bother that Godzilla was there peeping. In his hand was a brush used to scrub on a skin, preferrably the ones that Mothra used it.

Damn, of all places...

"AM I GOOOOOOOOOOOOOODD OR BAD~"

Godzilla had never been slack-jawed of how fucking awesome Rodan's singing voice is. I mean, he had seen Rodan singing crazily after drinking a shot too much back from their old times sake, which he and even Kong dragged him all because of his violent manner after having a fight with some unwanted men from a bar. But this one...

"Woah..." Godzilla breathed, "Rody's not so bad with that voice, I bet some girls would swoon over him if he was a celebrity."

"DON'T YOU JUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDGGEE SO FAST~"

But as Rodan twirled around...

"Hey, hey, hey-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

Rodan let out a mightiest girlish scream of the entire mansion, almost shook off the ass out of his confidence. His eyes wide as dinner plates when he saw Godzilla on the door peeping, who was indeed startled by the redhaired man's scream.

Knowing he is caught red-handed, and indeed naked, he covered himself with his arms and hands, purposely snagged a towel beside the sink and wrapped it around his waist, before marching towards Godzilla and slammed the door shut.

"What was that for, Rodan?!" Godzilla growled.

"Like indeed you are peeping me without knocking!" Rodan bites back.

"Oh really? Then you should've closed it before your bird-brain of yours!"

"You just entered my-our own house without texting me?!" Godzilla said angrily, "You know what happens when Mothra finds out just like what happened to you and Ghidorah!"

"That's in the past now, we'll never do it again! I promised!"

"Then what are you fucking doing here?!"

Rodan slowly opens the door with a dull expression...

"...I'm running out of water back from my apartment and I haven't pay a rent so..." He gave him a puppy eyes.

Oh great. Just fucking great.

Rodan had barely payed a rent just to avoid himself kicked out by the landowner. Many times, he would got himself into trouble, and Godzilla and Kong even needed to bail him out because of that.

Godzilla sighed heavily, massaging his temples just to avoid 10 times headache and all.

"Okay, fine! I'll gave you a cash."

Rodan beamed.

"But! I'm not taking any chances! You need to worked harder, and you're already hired as a chef. I'm counting on you, Rody."

"Gracias mi mejor amigo."

"Now hurry up before Mothra finds out and gonna beat you out of your daylights."

"Okay!"

"BTW, Rodan..." Godzilla leaned over the wall, "I didn't know you have a wonderful singing voice."

"R-Really?"

"Yeah, good thing nobody would notice your quite voice and good looks..."

"And that you are indeed a good singer."

Godzilla and Rodan are startled by another voice, because that voice was no other than Godzilla's wife and His Queen, Mothra.

Sweat trickled down their foreheads, seeing the expression of the white-haired woman...

"Now..."

Oh boy.....

Outside, infinite babblings and pleading were heard followed by a loud smack as Godzilla and Rodan are deserved to be punished.

But at the same time, Mothra quitely likes the singing voice of the red-haired man, but hated the fact that Rodan dared to enter their house without permission.

Lesson learned, Rodan, the Fire Demon.

~✦~

From @adm-starblitzsteel-4305

Also, the song Rodan sang in the bathroom was titled "Good Tonight" by Daniel Pemberton and Anthony Ramos from the movie The Bad Guys.

Also, my MV Rodan's voice actor is Anthony Ramos. I thought that would be fun since Ramos voiced Mr. Piranha. 😁

And I am still looking for MV Mothra's voice actress while my MV Godzilla's voice actor is Keith David.

Well anyway, have fun reading it!

😉

[spaceyaceface]

How do you think would Ominis Gaunt or Sebastian Sallow ask their favorite person to the Yule Ball?

(I'm salty that we didn't have an option to romance anyone, having the Yule Ball would have been a freaking fantastic way to introduce romance options 😂)

*slams hand down on table* WELL ANON LET ME TELL YOU I HAVE THOUGHTS.

The first is you’re so very right, we were robbed, and I’ll never forgive it.

Let’s start out with our dear Sebastian Sallow:

The boy likes to think he’s confident. And he is—in most aspects.

One of the ones he’s not so confident in is asking you to the Yule Ball.

That doesn’t stop him from pretending he is, though. Back in their dorm, he talks it up to Ominis, telling him, “Yeah, I’ll just ask them in Herbology, we’re next to each other anyways,” or “Tonight after dinner. A bit more private, after everyone else has cleared out.”

And he walks into each of those situations with the fullest intention of following through with his plans. But then he sees you and he can’t help thinking how daft he is for thinking you’d say yes. He still tries, though. He opens his mouth. He begins to speak. He even asks you something—it’s just never what he really wanted to ask.

Instead, what comes out is something like, “Want to play Gobstones in the Undercroft later?” Or “Think you could help me with my Potions essay?” And you say yes to that, so he’ll have to count that as enough for now.

Every time he goes back to his dorm knowing he’ll have to face Ominis’s exasperated sighs.

“Did you ask them?”

“Shut up.”

Again and again and again as the weeks melt away into days before the ball.

It’s when he hears someone else is planning on asking you that any inhibition vanishes in an instant. One second, his heart drops when Ominis tells him that Andrew Larson of all people is going to ask you, and the next he’s storming through the halls to find you. It doesn’t take long—you’re in a courtyard, chatting away to some other friends. He doesn’t even take the time to look around him.

“You’re going to the ball with me.”

Sebastian doesn’t even ask. He states it, eyes staring directly into yours.

You raise your eyebrow. “Since when?”

“Since I asked you.”

“And when did that happen?”

He has to think for a moment, realizing that technically, it still hasn’t, but this time, he’s quick to fix it.

“Will you do me the luxurious honor of going to the ball with me?” he finally asks, grinning.

You smile. “Yes, Sebastian. It’s about time you asked.”

When anyone asks him about it later, he’ll tell them it was a piece of cake. No big deal. Ominis will always roll his eyes at this, knowing full well that without his lie about Andrew Larson, it never would have happened.

As far as Ominis Gaunt goes:

He’s told everyone, including himself, that he doesn’t plan to go to the ball. He doesn’t want to, he claims. It’s not his thing.

Truth is, he just doesn’t want to go with anyone other than you. And he knows full well that won’t happen, as he has no intention of asking you.

You see, he doesn’t want you to feel obliged—that because he’s your friend, you have to say yes to the unpopular blind boy. He knows there are plenty other people who will ask you, so he decides to just leave it be.

Sebastian sees right through him, though, and does everything in his power to pester him until he changes his mind. It’s exhausting—which is saying a lot, because Sebastian is tiring enough on a normal day. Still, he refuses. But as the ball comes closer, he starts to feel small pangs of regret at his decision.

People talk about buying robes and dresses. Practicing dancing. There’s a contagious excitement in the air and he can’t help but get caught in it.

But he still convinced himself it’s for the best. It’s amazing you haven’t been asked yet—until suddenly, you have.

And you turned it down.

He’s shocked with Sebastian tells him, hearing the sky smirk in his voice. Garreth Weasley had asked you, and you’d said no.

It isn’t long until he goes off to find you, and soon he brings it up, his curiosity and maybe a little bit of hope getting to him.

“You said no to Garreth?” He asks.

You confirm this, and he’s baffled.

“The ball is only days away, what if you don’t get asked again?”

He’s shocked by the unworried tone in your voice when you respond. “There’s only one person I’d say yes to. Otherwise, I’m fine not going.”

Only one person… he can’t help bit frown, wishing he was the one who had captured your heart. “I suppose it’s for the best I don’t ask you and save you the trouble of rejecting someone else.”

He expects you to agree. To say sorry, but he was right. Maybe even to laugh at the mere idea.

What he doesn’t expect is for you to pause, voice going low when you finally say, “You’ll never know unless you ask.”

And it hits him that you want him to ask. That he is the one you were waiting for.

And when you say yes, he couldn’t be more overjoyed.

[coff-in]

heyhey!! may i req ashley with a fem reader? i may ramble here so please bear with me (reader and ashley are the same age)

reader and ashley were basically childhood friends, reader being the only person to actually give ashley a chance to actually be her friend rather than befriend her to try to get to andrew (which ashley was very wary of reader right from the get-go)

reader is basically known for being perfect and even "pure" by her peers back in highschool (and being a part of student council is no help) mostly due to her mother forcing her to excel and reader never really having much of an identity because of it

so it would be pretty scandalous for rumors of reader and ashley dating to go out, right? well, ashley fuels those rumors meanwhile reader tries to shut them down because reader isn't even out when it comes to liking girls

reader's mother is pretty disapproving of reader's and ashley's friend/relationship but the two usually sneak around to hang out anyways, mostly ashley

in the current game setting, reader is quarantined with the graves siblings since at that point, her mother stopped caring and viewed her daughter as a lost cause and is practically an accomplice in everything that happened

of course, with the quarantine, ashley and reader have gotten closer than ever before to the point that reader is questioning herself and her attraction to ashley

the relationship will be relatively toxic especially with reader likely being more of a doormat than andrew (somehow) and ashley's nature in isolating reader from friends and even her peers in general

notes from coff-in: this is actually such a cool idea, 'nonnie! i don't know to like, add on to this because it's just... it's so fucking good. you really cooked here :D still i tried my best, please enjoy!

[fem] reader-insert, homophobia(?)

holy shit, i think leyley would actually be so happy if [reader] actually came over to celebrate her birthday. even if [reader] wasn't able to bring her a gift, just her showing up to say "happy birthday, leyley!" would cause leyley to break out into a huge adorable smile!! the fact that [reader] actually takes the time and makes the effort to be there for leyley would make her like [reader]. [reader] is there for her, she likes to be friends with her. even having her sneak out of the house to hang out with ashley is so heart touching to her and enforces the idea that [reader] likes her. it also builds up that attachment to [reader] in ashley character.

i'm not too entirely sure how people in the neighborhood the graves' lived at react to gay people but... i'm sure it would be some sort of struggle being "outed" as gay when you yourself aren't even sure if you're gay or not. [reader] would definitely panic when ashley teases her about the rumors. "didn't you hear about them? everyone's talking about us~ about our relationship~"

"what?! what no! ashley, they can't-- they're lying!! we're not dating-- i don't even--"

"you don't what, [reader]? you don't like me? aren't we friends?? you're MY friend!!" omg the back and fourth the two go through of ashley pushing the boundaries of their relationship and [reader] calming her down after she (purposely) misconstrues her words turning ashley down. and it's so hard trying to dispel the rumors because yeah, they always hang out with each other (because ashley gets mad when [reader] tries to hang out with other people) and yeah, [reader] doesn't have many other friends outside of ashley (because ashley doesn't like to share :3c) AND NO, SHE'S NOT JUST FRIENDS WITH ASHLEY TO GET TO ANDREW!!

and GOD ONCE [READER]'S MOTHER FINDS OUT???? ashley knows all about shitty mothers, this is just another factor that she could use to keep [reader] close. it's an aspect that they can bond over!! they're both disappointing daughters to their mothers... kinda romantic, isn't it? it's like the only other that can relate is right next to them huh? (ashley's giving her smug bedroom eyes to [reader] while [reader] is like "haha... ha yeah, so true ashley canwetalkabout somethingelse?") THIS CONFLATES OR LIKE COMBINES WHEN THE QUARANTINE HAPPENS LIKE "WOWIE YOUR MOM DOESN'T WANT SHIT TO DO WITH YOU EITHER!!! we should kiss rn"

biggest question i have is whether or not andrew would like it or not? he's used to being ashley's rock, her anchor, the only one who loves her. and now [reader] comes along and... well, not steals her but makes her less reliant on andrew. ashley's always going to andy so it's not like andrew's leaving her (not like he wants to do so either) but there must be some tension or competition between him and [reader]. especially since [reader]'s taking his spot as "doormat extraordinaire" like bro!!! what the fuck!!! honestly such a fun idea to explore.

[reader] has nothing left but ashley. ashley drove away her friends in middle/high school, her mother abandoned her due to rumors of her dating ashley, and now she's stuck with ashley (and andrew) for three months. no one is calling the phone to talk to her, no one is trying to break her out, and no one is missing her. it's only [reader] and ashley (and andrew)

fucking love this idea, come here. let me kiss that wonderful brain of yours 'nonnie. MWAH MWAH MWAH!!!

----

coff-in

[lakesbian]

ok interlude 1. everyone loves interlude 1. fun things happening in interlude 1 i.e. meeting danny hebert and meeting scion also.

you guys remember seeing that one tumblr post thats like. [in response to experiment where bees read a fake bee on a stick as a real bee] stupid bees. falling for a fake bee on a stick being a real bee. and then someone else is like. i bet eldritch beings are like that about us. stupid humans. falling for fake humans on a stick being real humans. you guys know that post? anyway that's what this interlude makes me think of.

“The golden man would reappear several more times in the coming months and years. At some point, he donned clothing. At first, a sheet worn over one shoulder and pinned at either side of the waist, then more conventional clothes. In 1999, he donned the white bodysuit he still wears today. For more than a decade, we have wondered, where did our golden man get these things? Who was he in contact with?

^ stupid humans. mistaking a fake human on a stick for a real human. i love the horror of this interlude in retrospect. people assuming he's miraculously curing cancer as the world's most heroic original parahuman when he's actually the nigh-incomprehensible alien that's the cause of the pandemic and was healing the cancerous person because they were a host for a parasitic part of the alien's own body that had been implanted in them.

“His pace increased, perhaps because he was still learning what he could do, perhaps because he was getting a greater sense of where he was needed. By the middle of the 1990s, he was traveling from crisis to crisis, flying faster than the speed of sound. In fifteen years, he has not rested.

this seeming to everyone else like him intentionally increasing the effectiveness of his heroics when he's just. life on a scale one cannot comprehend experiencing a mental health crisis It cannot comprehend. and oblivious to the fact that the coping mechanism he's trying is not fucking working.

“Just five years after Scion’s first appearance, the superheroes emerged from the cover of rumor and secrecy to show themselves to the public.  Though the villains followed soon after, it was the heroes who shattered any illusions of the parahumans being divine figures.  In 1989, attempting to quell a riot over a basketball game in Michigan, the superhero known to the public as Vikare stepped in, only to be clubbed over the head.  He died not long after of a brain embolism.  Later, he would be revealed to be Andrew Hawke. “The golden age of the parahumans was thus short lived.  They were not the deific figures they had appeared to be.  Parahumans were, after all, people with powers, and people are flawed at their core.  Government agencies took a firmer hand, and state-”

i love the implication that because scion was so obviously. Not Fucking Normal. people assumed the first parahumans to show themselves were also on some level deific or Above humanity. and eventually people did realize. oh these are just regular guys but with powers. leaving the mystery of why scion is Like That just kind of up in the air. you think that's ever uncomfortable for people? like it's normal, it's default, but if anyone ever thinks about it too hard while they're bored....it's weird, man.

anyway onto mr daniel hebert. i think it's really notable that his introduction is him watching tv about parahumans, then shutting it off and getting up to pace with this line being given:

It was three fifteen in the morning, and his daughter Taylor was not in her bedroom.

but then despite how this is Immediately preceded by a talk about how actually, capes are just normal guys, there's a conspicuously absent lack of danny...connecting that thought to taylor being out late. and, like, i explicitly do not think this is a flaw of danny at this point--there's no reason anyone would leap to assuming THEIR teenage family member that is just a normal person is secretly a cape bc they were out late once. but the juxtaposition btwn the tv program abt capes and his "huh. anyways" reaction is very much There and i think you can 100% view it as a start to a pattern of behavior he'll have where all common sense should lead him to taylor being a cape (just fucking. out adn about thriving post-leviathan randomly knowing shit about the s9 out there living an obvious double-life!) but he's just Completely Not Even Thinking About It. which is the same thing as the shit he does in this first interlude:

Danny thought about clearing his throat to let her know he was awake and available should she knock on his door, but decided against it. He was being cowardly, he thought, as if his clearing of his throat would give reality to his fears.

He was stopped by the smell of jam and toast. She had made a late night snack. It filled him with relief. He couldn’t imagine his daughter, after being mugged, tormented or humiliated, coming home to have toast with jam as a snack. Taylor was okay, or at least, okay enough to be left alone.

he keeps getting up in his own head where hes like. oh nooo i know shes being bullied but i cant do anything about it yelling at the school didnt work and i cant move her to arcadia. while being completely emotionally disengaged from taylor and also somehow managing to convince himself that they have some sort of trust/understanding from him Not Acknowledging It At All so its basically fine. he Genuinely believes that clearing his throat would magically inform her that hes awake and available if she wants to ask for help (as opposed to giving her a heart attack over being caught??) but can't even do that because he doesn't want to actually take the problems from like. a hypothetical he gets mad about in his head into a real life material thing hes supposed to support her thru. if he doesn't see it it can't hurt him. he's processing everything thru "well i guess shes okay enough to be left alone" while just wildly oblivious to the amount of pain shes in and he has genuinely convinced himself that he's doing the best thing of giving her the Dignity of suffering alone or whatever. convinced he's available to talk to and expecting her to come talk to him and increasingly mad she's not but not actually very obviously available to talk to. and it eventually boils over into taking away her autonomy to attempt Forcing her into talking! he has no conception of anything that isnt sitting there expecting her to do the work of emotional connection or going "you will emotionally connect with me. now. or else." this is just kind of a ramble because this will not be fun for me if i cleanly edit every single post into a masterpiece but im enjoying poasting my thoughts on a second go around hopefully theres something coherent i can crystallize

[otdiaftg]

Neil lifts a cup down from the cabinet and shakes his medicine out of the bag. There he stops, because he can only imagine how much it'd hurt his fingers to unscrew that child-safety cap. He looks around for something to make it easier and see's Kevin waiting in the doorway.

Kevin glances from Neil to Matt and speaks in French. "When Riko finds out what your father did to your face, he will retaliate." By now Matt is used to them jabbering away in foreign languages around him. He gives no sign he hears them or cares what they are saying but pulled coffee beans and filters down from the cabinet. Neil wars with himself, heart tripping and skipping with unjustified nerves. He studies Matt's profile until Matt cuts the grinder off, then looks past him to Kevin. "Can he do anything about it, though?" Neil asks in English. Matt freezes with the filter halfway to the coffee maker. In the doorway, Kevin tenses up in incomprehension or disapproval. Neil feels Matt's eyes on him but doesn't return the look. Just last night he'd said he is done lying to Matt. He can't expect Matt to believe him if he talks behind Matt's back today. The upperclassmen know the whole story now, anyway, so there is no reason to hide this inevitable complication. "By now Kengo knows my father's dead and I'm alive. Worse, he knows the FBI has already talked to me. He has to make a decision on me one way or the other. Will Riko risk making the first move?" Kevin flicks a cool look at Matt but obediently brings the conversation back to English. "They touched what they never should have. By erasing your tattoo they've swept him aside as insignificant. Riko won't tolerate that." Kevin lifts his left hand as a prime example of Riko's violent inferiority complex. "If he thinks he can sneak past his father to get you, he will." "Let him try," Neil says. "He knows where he can find me." "Your false bravado helps no one." "Neither does your cowardice," Neil points out. "I was only afraid of Riko because he knew who I was. What can he hold against me now that everyone knows the truth?" Neil gives Kevin a moment to digest that then said, "Andrew says the Ravens have to let this feud play out this spring, so Riko can't even come after the rest of you yet. They might kick and fuss a bit but you're safe from them for now." "You believe him?" Matt asks. Neil shrugs. "Tetsuji calmed their crazy fans down by saying the Ravens would handle us on the court. He has to deliver, so yeah, I believe Andrew. But hey, since Riko's hands are tied," Neil said, glancing back at Kevin, "now's a perfect time to take that off your face." It takes Kevin a moment to catch on, and he jerks like he's been struck. "Don't even joke like that." "I'm not joking. Allison said she'd spot me the cash to take mine off. Maybe she'll do the same for you now that I don't need her help." "No question," Matt says. "She loves a good scandal." "Stop," Kevin says. "Shut up." "You're supposed to be done being second-best," Neil says. "Prove it." Kevin makes a cutting gesture at him and storms out.

Day: Monday, March 11th / 12th* Time: 8:38 AM EST

*Due to the Leap Year, I have opted to highlight the day rather than the date to keep the events in occurrence to the 2007 year. I will continue to mark both days accordingly.

[akaakeis]

gnawing at my nails rn i miss my bf (i dont have one) how do u pick like,,, one person to selfship with bc⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️

like there r so many options ushijima i dont even know who's my favourite character rn ushijima like guys☹️⁉️⁉️

BUT I cant wait for savyaku😼😼😼😼😼 SOCUTE

goshiki is my babey though he is sososososososososo cute and i would want him irl and i bet i could even pull him irl toooo

yk what this type of starting is called! a HOOK sentence cuz u got HOOKED and now ur reading this long ass ask. WAIT FUCJ mattsun guys hear me out here ANYWAYS. HRU SAV!!!!!!!!!!!! its 4am for yew rn right!!

anyways.. its 4pm havent had lunch yet am so fucking tired but soft rice.. soft white rice.... i want to sleep but rice....... call me basic but soft white rice is the best fucking thing in the entire world right after u. teacher gave my english composition an 80 i think ill end up on the news. i just stood up abruptly and the world went 🌀🌀🌀🌀 should i be worried..!!!!

THERE WAS AN OWL ON OUR ROOF THE OTHER DAY SO COOL i almost started writing akaashi hurt comfort (???) at school today but i didnt get time and now im Too Tired :(

im reading and the mountains echoed by khaled hosseini and erm. the plot is so questionable at times like wdym the guy was in love with his chauffeur wdym she tried to kill her sister and changed her mind last second so it was only paralysis but its ok bc she killed her fr next time. wdym this one girl dated her moms ex and then married her friend's ex like guys.. guys i have Questions..

IDK IF U READ JJK MANGA BUT U SHOULD READ JJK MANGA

i cant wait for ur birthday #weirdkidthings Im So Funny Guys Im So Funny

im going to sleep so hard tonight grrgrgrhrgrg i had ice cream on the way home from school YUM and then math kid era p2 i finished this one thinf before everyone else even started and the teacher asked if i did it qt home cuz wtf. ew now i remember her using her nail to create indentations in the paper and i feel nauseous my skin is crawling

WHATEVER eRmmrmrm im sitting on the stairs rn hashtag procrastination ahahahahah ive been writing this and zoninf out for the past 7 minutes yyyyyippeeee

im so tired guys let me sleeeep

my parenrs were supposed to find baby gender today but the little shit kept its legs shut and didnt let them see (just like me frl)

correction im lying on the stairs rn ..

honestly me x goshiki would be Bomb why is he so unpopular all his fics are mid or questionable so far,,,, anyways. konoha is so beautiful i would want him excpet i have like no grip on his character so #tweaks. i hate andrew tate so fkn much. i cant wait till i turn 16 idk i feel like life will be significantly cooler then. anyways bb i take my leave gotta go eat lunch

i hope youve eaten by the time ur reading this!!! stay hydrated and safe and dm me to be silly together whenever >:]]]]] i hope u have a WONDERFUL day sav!! ily <3

look at my man hes so gorgeous btw

alina... bf... :D alright then! umumumummm honestly there were many characters that i wanted to do a selfship with but i didnt want to be self shipping with the same character that someone im following consistently self ships with LMAO cause i feel like it gets weird for me at that point cause all the hcs in my head get mixed up? ANYWAY i just think of selfships with any character im hyperfixating on at that very moment... in fact my selfship very well may change!!!

anyway since im replying after you decided on yuulina... NOYA AGHHH U GUYS WILL BE SO CUTE TOGETHER!!! IM UR NO 1 SUPPORTER THIS IS YUULINA SUPPORT CENTRAL‼️‼️‼️

savyaku sounds so funny i need to thank of something that sounds better stop rn 💔 BUT I LOVE HIM SO SO SO SO SO MUCH IM SUPER EXCITED TO DO SOME SELFSHIP STUFF :))

u would so pull goshiki irl 🙂‍↕️

HELP thanks for the english lesson lina 😭 those terms always make me shudder because they were drilled into my head in my college comp class it was horrifying. and NO not mattsun i do NOT approve of that at this point in time!!!! AND IM OKAY!! tired as hell and i have 3 projects to work on <3 (i stacked my classes this year, im not proud.) IT IS NOW 3 PM AS I ANSWER THIS ASK SO SORRY IT TOOK ME LIKE 12 HOURS WOAH

honestly u were probably tired because you didn't eat but i digress... AND SOFT WHITE RICE HAS MY HEART IT MAY BE AN ASIAN THING?? and awh stawp😋 ARE WE TALKING ABOUT THE ENGLISH TEACHER THAT YOU CORRECTED IN CLASS? THE ONE THAT CANT SPEAK AS WELL AS YOU?? insanity 😨 i may end up on the news as well. AND YOURE PROBABLY HUNGRY AND DEHYDRATED GO EAT AND DRINK WATER IF YOU HAVENT ALREADY WHAT??? PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF!!

WHAT AN OWL ON THE ROOF THATS SUPER COOL!! bro i love owls :( and ugh i get what u mean i feel like sometimes the time just slips away... but its okay! you'll have time at some later date <3 make sure you rest enough!!

guys what my jaw just dropped?? THOSE WERE THE MOST RANDOM PLOT POINTS YOU COULDVE LEFT ME WITH. NOW IM JUST CONFUSED? KINDA WANNA READ IT NOW (my readlist has 100+ books on it)...

AND IVE READ SOME OF IT BUT IM NOT UP TO DATE RN I HAVENT HAD MUCH TIME TO CATCH UP RECENTLY

im excited for your bday too!! im trying to math away the time differences in my head so like i would dm at 12 pm the day before your bday so i would catch u at midnight i THINK.

i hope u are having an AMAZING sleep rn alina!!! and u are so smart <3 barf ur teacher needs to stop doing that thats lowk unsanitary? in my book

HELP ME NOT THE JS LIKE ME FR 😭😭 hopefully u guys are able to figure out the gender soon!! im so excited for you guys <33

goshiki is under appreciated as a character honestly and i think its cause of his fuckass haircut 😭 NO OFFENSE TO YOU WHATSOEVER IM SORRY!! HES CUTE BUT THE HAIR IS NOT FOR ME. when i saw him shirabu AND tendou i was like "what the HELL is wrong with shiratorizawa they are all fucked" no they werent they had semi and ushijima BUT THAT WAS FIRST IMPRESSION ANYWAY also konoha UGRHSHSBNDMSJABD hes so!!! so!!! yeah!!! i love him sm... also how did we get on the topic of andrew tate hes such a weird guy i dont like him 💀 AND SO REAL im excited to be 16 <3

AND I HAVE!! make sure u eat something nutritious before school! and drink some water!! i hope your day is lovely <3 ily!!

[mywrittingwonderland]

5. Everything means nothing if I don’t have you

Some more fluffiness of my favorite couple.

Is someone even reading this? LOL!

Have fun! And I apologize for the mistakes in advance.

- - - -

June

Sophia hadn’t really left Shawn’s house much since they became official. They were unofficially living together, after the first week she had her own key, her own drawer and even her own working spot close to him. The first time they were apart was when Shawn had to go on a day trip for press, and neither of them were able to sleep that well that night. He was so used to her using him as her own personal pillow that he missed the way her head would always be laying on his chest, right above his heart. No matter how they would go to sleep without fail that’s how they would wake up. He felt unease and regret for not catching the 1a.m. flight after the red carpet and getting back to her sooner, he thought about calling her but he also didn’t want to risk waking her up. Just when he was about to give up and go read a book instead of sleeping he felt his phone vibrating.

“Hi Baby, I thought you were in dreamland when we hanged up” He said, remembering how he stayed on the phone with her to make sure she would sleep.

“Shawn” Her voice sounded trembly and he did not like that for one second.

“What’s up, Honey?” he asked switching the call so he could see her and make sure she was okay.

“I miss you”

“I miss you too, I will be home later today”. He said bitting on his lip and wishing he could hug her out of whatever was bothering her. “Did something happen?” 

“I had a nightmare” 

“You had a nightmare? Oh, I am so sorry, Lovey. Do you wanna talk about it?”

“You were coming back from the red carpet and someone shot you right before you entered the house. And then- then…” 

“Hey, I am okay. No bullets, I promise.” He said trying to calm her down. He also looked up the next flight he could take, since he had no hopes of getting back to sleep. “Baby I am changing my flight, I will be home in 3hs”.

“Wait, no Shawn, you should get some sleep. I shouldn’t have called you.” She said instantly getting worried.

“No, Honey, I couldn’t get to sleep without you anyways, don’t worry. We can sleep the whole day together with no nightmares.” He said, texting Andrew to let him know he was going home sooner, and getting up to get dressed and leave. 

- - - - - -

July

“So, are you officially living together or what?” Brian asked after crashing the couple’s breakfast for the 2nd time that week. Sophia had just left to go to the toilet so he jumped the question.

“Hm, I mean, no, not really”. Shawn replied, sounding a bit unsure. They hadn’t really discussed much about their living situation, although Sophia was not going to her house that much. Brian looked at him silently asking if he was sure about that. “She has her place with Connor remember?” 

“Do you remember?” He asked.

“Oh shut up”.

“Shawn, seriously, are you sure you two are not going way too fast? Don’t get me wrong, I know you haven’t been this happy since I have known you, but tour stats in a few months and I am just worried you might lose your sense of personal space or something” 

“Brian what are you talking about?”. He asked, really not understanding what Brian was up to.

“All I am saying is, it might be harder for you when you go away. I just don’t want you to have one more thing to be anxious over, that’s all.” He said, but before Shawn could think of a reply on how crazy Brian was sounding Sophia got back to the table and they dropped the topic. 

Sophia half heard the conversation and got a little self conscious, she thought she might be imposing her presence too much in Shawn’s space and she got worried about what Brian was saying. If he got back to touring and he was more anxious because of her she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself, so she made a personal note to go sleep home that night. Once Shawn was gone for the studio she made him a fresh batch of cookies, because he happened to mention he was craving cookies that morning, and then she got her book in the nightstand and her working equipment before driving for her house. 

“Hellooo”. She said as soon as she got inside, expecting Connor to be there. But then she remembered he would definitely be with Shawn in the studio, so she just ended up in her kitchen making herself some tea and getting back to writing. 

Shawn on the other hand finally got to finish his talk with Brian, this time with Connor also present while they were on their lunch break with takeout pizza, since Shawn didn’t wanna leave the studio and find a restaurant without paps.

“Connor, do you also think Sophia and Shawn are just going too fast?”. Brian blunted out making Shawn drop his pizza slice and look at him as of saying: not this again.

“As long as he has no intentions of breaking by best friend’s heart I think they are doing okay, you tell us Shawn”.

“I think Brian is way too invested in my love life all of a sudden”. Shawn said, getting a bit annoyed.

“Bro, I am honestly just worried about you”. He said putting up his arms in surrender.

“I thought about what you said this morning, and perhaps it was my mistake to not ask her to move in already. I know it might seem like we are going too fast, but I just really love her so much, and I wanna spend every single minute I can with her before we actually have to be apart for tour.” He explained. “And Connor I have no intention of breaking my soulmate’s heart, ever.” 

The boys continued to talk for a little bit before Shawn had to get back to rehearsals. Shawn was relieved when his day was over, he missed Sophia, and she hadn’t texted him the entire day, which was making him worry something was up. When he entered the house he immediately felt the smell of cookies in the air, it looked like she had just pulled them out of the over some minutes ago. 

“Babyyy, where are you? These are so good.” He said grabbing a cookie and going searching for her around the condo. He quickly noticed she wasn’t in any of her spots and her book and computer were also not in the house, so he grabbed the phone and called her.

Sophia completely forgot about her phone, she used to do that a lot whenever she would get lost in a book.

“Wait Shawn, I literally just got home. Phi, are you home?” Connor asked giggling between his keys, phone and camera bag. She wasn’t in the kitchen anymore, Connor went to look at her tiny library and found her very deep into reading. “Yeah she is here. Okay sure, I will let her know” 

“Oh hey Con, I swear I didn’t see you there”

“Yeah I noticed. Shawn is coming over by the way.” Connor said making his way to sit beside his friend. “He was super worried when he got home and your cookies were there but you weren’t” 

“Oh, that wasn’t my intention, I mean he did want cookies this morning, but I didn’t want to make him worried, I just thought I might give him some space today. Just in case. I have been over his house way too much”. She said, sounding a bit insecure.

“I personally don’t think he minds, but you can talk once he gets here”. He said giving her a kiss on the forehead and leaving her to get back to reading. Shawn was there in less than 15 minutes, and Connor opened up for him.

“She is reading”

Shawn walked inside and went straight to her library, he leaned on the door for a bit observing how focused she was in her book. Until she notice his presence and smiled at him making him instantly smiling back and getting close to her for a kiss.

“You got me worried, Missy” He said waiting for her to mark up her book before engulfing her in a tight hug.

“I am sorry, I just thought I might be way too much in your space, I don’t want to suffocate you”. She said making him frown. “I head a bit of what Brian was saying this morning.” She explained making him understand where she was coming from. 

“I am totally killing Brian tomorrow” He said making her laugh. “Baby you don’t suffocate me”.

“Are you sure? I mean I have been over a lot, and I know it’s not my house, and I don’t-” He interrupted her rambling by kissing her gently.

“I am sure. You could never suffocate me. And about that, I wanted to ask you something”. He said and she waited for him to continue. “Do you wanna just stay over indefinitely? Because, it’s no longer home without you.” 

“Really?”

“Mhm, oh and you can change whatever you want, let’s make it ours?” He said with a big smile on.

“Okay I think I would love that” 

- - - - - - 

August 

“Sweetie, I am sure my parents will love you, in fact I am sure they already love you.” Shawn said trying to reassure his girlfriend.

“Still, Shawn we have to make sure to welcome them properly, so please help me out with what I should cook for them”. She said, half ignoring what he was saying and coming back into what Connor would call the wonder hostess mode.

“Phi, are you sure you don’t want to just order take out? I don’t want you to stress too much about this.” He said, worried that she was overdoing it.

“No, that would make me a very bad hostess. I am not having that. You know that.” She said looking up from the list she was making to make sure he understood what she was saying.

“Okay, fine. I think that your Ravioli al Pesto will make everyone happy”. He gave in, receiving a smile back from her. 

“How about Tiramisu for dessert?”

“That’s perfect, Love.” He kissed her forehead. “My only condition is that you let me help you cook, it will make me feel better”

“But Shawn, you don’t really know how to cook”

“Teach me, please?”

And teach him she would, over the months Shawn learned probable more about cooking than he had his entire life, and he really was up to making the extra effort because she was constantly making him small things, brownies because he seemed sad, blue cookies because she was re-reading Percy Jackson, and many other instances in which she would learn his favorite treats and home made them. He wanted to be able to do the same for her, so he took it very serious.

There was something he was right about though, his family loved her, in fact he thought they might love her even more than he loved her, if that was even possible.

“Phi, you have to come to my Hockey game on Friday, I wanna talk more to you before my brother’s birthday when we have to be with everyone.” Aaliyah said by end of dinner, while helping Sophia with getting dessert.

“Really? I would love to come!” She said getting excited while finishing to cut the tiramisu pieces.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Yes, go for it” 

“Is my Brother treating you right? Because I swear if he isn’t I will beat him up for you”. Sophia have out a loud laugh at that which made Shawn join the girls in the kitchen.

“What’s up?” 

“I am just checking with her that you are being a gentlemen since she is just way too good, I won’t allow you to break her heart.” Sophia blushed at Aaliyah’s statement and all of a sudden she was a bit overwhelmed by the attention and love the new Mendes was giving her.

“Never, but I appreciate you also taking care of my Angel”. Shawn said grabbing Sophia’s hand for a kiss on her forehead. “Isn’t she cute?” He asked his sister while Sophia conveniently hid her red face in his chest for a second.

“Shawn she might just be my favorite sister, sorry”. Shawn smiled and hugged his girlfriend while still paying attention to Aaliyah.

“I am okay with that”. Shawn said looking at his girlfriend and noticing how her eyes were full of tears.

“You guys are making me cry”. Sophia said, not knowing how to handle the love she was getting. “Come here”. She said hugging Aaliyah. “Thank you, I also can’t wait to have a sister”.

- - - - - - 

September

“So what’s your plan for today”. Connor asked Shawn, and he gave him a clueless look.

“Well, rehearsals? And probably call mom and dad tonight, why?”He questioned the blonde’s sudden interest for his day.

“Shawn you do know what day is today right?” Connor asked, and Shawn quickly revised his brain for something he might have missed, but nothing did come to mind.

“I have no idea what you are talking about Connor, where we supposed to do some external shooting for the doc and I am forgetting it?” Connor eyes widened in surprise for his answer.

“Dude, you are so screwed” 

“What? What did I do?” 

“Phi didn’t happen to mention today is her birthday, right? Why am I not surprised? She  never loved her own birthdays.” He said tapping his friend’s back in comfort.

“Connor, are you serious? Please tell me this is a prank?”Shawn asked fully entering panic mode when he realised he actually never asked his girlfriend when was her birthday, and it happened to be conveniently exactly a month after his, September 8th.

“I would never, here I sent her happy birthday this morning”. He said showing Shawn the text and Sophia’s thank you response.

“Holy shit, I need to go”. Shawn said, quickly looking around and gathering his things and his keys. “Can you smooth things with Andrew for today? I will talk to him later, and thank you, you are the best friend ever” He quickly said running out of the studio and into his car. 

He felt very bad, he never actually asked her when it was, and this week was very crazy with all the final preparations for the Global Citizen’s festival, and also Niall’s birthday coming up. 

“Fuck me, all week talking to her about Niall’s birthday and the festival”. He said gripping on the wheel, he remembered what she did for him on his birthday, she actually organised all the tiny details and baked his cake, he didn’t want anything big, so they all went with his family and the crew to a small retreat in her family’s countryside in London. She also had an amazing gift for him.

“Well, I know that you are allergic to dogs, so I thought maybe I could get you some other kind of best friend, plus Pinky was a bit lonely.” He replayed her words in his head and this new horse that was currently being taken care by her grandparent’s in their farm, and of course he was Pinky’s best friend. He remembered that she also explained to him that she had done a lot of research on anxiety after she was diagnosed soem years ago, and that Pinky helped her a lot, and that she wanted Shawn to also have that new kind of support whenever he had a break and things got too much. 

He quickly stopped at Sophia’s favorite flower shop on the way home. It was this very tiny shop owned by an Italian old lady, and he dropped by every week to pick her something, every time the previous flower was dying he would give her a new one. It was a nice tradition he started after hearing one of Sophia’s grandma story on how she fell in love with her grandpa because he would always bring her a flower, no matter if it was sunny or raining, everyday since they met he would give her a flower. He ended up getting a mixture of her favorites, little delicate white and purple daisies, scorpion grasses and lavender, wrapped with a classic white lace.

When he opened the door of their home it was already 17:00, so he was relieved to see music playing and the lights on. “Hi Baby, I am home”.

“In the kitchen”. She sounded happy, which was a bit of a relief to Shawn. He caught her finishing up the cake she had started the day before, lemon and rose flavoured, he remembered her saying when she asked him to test the filling. It didn’t crossed his mind that she was baking herself a cake, she was constantly baking so he really didn’t think anything different. “What do you think?” She asked, referring to her little cake, decorated with light pink frosting and some rose petals on the top.

“It’s very cute”. He said making his way to her and giving her a kiss. 

“Are these for me?” She asked noticing the bouquet with her favorite flowers on his hand.

“Yes”. He smiled back at her still amazed by the fact that she didn’t seem even the slightest mad at him.

“They are so pretty, thank you.” She hugged him and went to her vase to change her flowers.

“Your welcome, Baby.” He replied observing her untangling the flowers from the lace, taking the old ones, choosing a dying flower and putting inside her book, and then throwing the rest of them out. Without failure she would do that every week.

“Why did you get so many today?” She asked, noticing he got her way more flowers than he usually does. And he looked at her thinking that it wouldn’t surprise him if she forgot her own birthday, she was so worried about everything around her sometimes every so often she would need reminders that she was also important.

“Connor might have let it slip that today is someone’s birthday”. He said getting close to her and pulling the string of hair that escaped her braid out of her face. 

“Oh”. She looked guilty back at him.

“Yeah”. He smiled and gave her a slow kiss followed by a peck on her nose.

“I promise I was gonna tell you.” He giggled and hugged her.

“Happy Birthday, Baby. I love you.” He said kissing her one more time. “What happened that you didn’t tell me?” He asked softly keeping his hands on her back and his forehead on hers.

“After we came back from London, things were just so crazy, there was the iHeartRadio MuchMusic Video Awards, and then and you were so anxious about having to fly to Ireland and doing the festival in New York in a very short span of time, and also the finishing things for tour that have to be settled this until next month. I just didn’t want to bring up one more thing to make it even crazier.” She said explaining the reasoning behind her actions. Shawn immediately felt like she had somehow made him fall even more in love with her. “Also I am not the biggest on my birthdays, I much prefer other’s birthdays”. She bit her lip, nervously looking at him. “I am sorry”. She said, making his heart melt.

“I love you, you know that?” He said, giving her a big smile. “You truly are the kindest person I know”. He kissed her one more time. “Baby, none of these things are even a tiny fraction more important than you… -”

“Shawn… -”

“Wait, let me finish please?” She nodded. “I know things sometimes do get crazy in my life, and I really do appreciate every single thing you have done to support me these past weeks, I don’t think I could have done it without you. In fact I am sure I wouldn’t have managed it, at least not sanely.” He chuckled. “But I really don’t want you to think that you don’t have space to also share your important things, because I want to hear all of them, and I want to also help you get through all of them. You are as much important as I am in this relationship. And honestly, all of this, everything, it means nothing if I don’t have you. All of you.”

- - - - - - 

Taglists: Shawn x Sophia Taglist: @shawn-youth  General Taglist: @arypesanchez @turtoix @ivegotparticulartaste @lanallaa   @pammyloumendkens

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[therealdisneyfan2319]

One Special Night | Wanda Maximoff

Summary: A blizzard leaves you and a stranger stranded on Thanksgiving

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Language, angsty fluff? fluffy angst?, death

Word Count: 6.9K

Masterlist

A/N: This was requested by @joewatt111 on Wattpad.  It’s based on the movie One Special Night starring Julie Andrews and James Garner (it’s one of my favorite Christmas movies!)  

So sorry for the delay in getting requests out.  I’ve been struggling through some writer’s block ever since I finished writing “Can’t Help Falling In Love.”  But I’m working through it and I’m hoping to get caught up before the holidays.  

Thanksgiving, 5:03 PM

“Any plans for Thanksgiving, Doc?”

“Oh you know, the usual,” you replied.  “Get togethers with family you don’t really like, avoiding conversations that’ll spark arguments, and eating too many casseroles of who knows what.”  You didn’t really like Thanksgiving.  It held too many memories you’d rather forget: the years of being shuffled from house to house to spend time with your divorced parents, the subsequent arguments that you’d hear between your drunk father and sobbing mother as you buried your head under the covers in a feeble attempt to drown out the screams, endless holiday dinners ruined by shifts in the emergency room treating deep fryer burn victims, people slicing their hands while attempting to carve a turkey, and sprains, bumps, and bruises from people slipping on ice or grease, and, of course, the one Thanksgiving where your fiance dumped you before the heavy cream could even be whipped.  Needless to say it wasn’t your favorite day of the year.  So instead of subjecting yourself to the horrors of dinner conversation, you volunteered to work the holiday, collect the overtime, and treat yourself to your favorite Chinese takeout and watch whatever football game was on.  Most people didn’t understand your disinterest in the holiday, so you fibbed and said you had plans.  It’s not like anyone would figure it out anyways.

“But that’s the fun isn’t it?  It only comes around once a year,” the tech posed.

You shook your head as you pulled on your coat.  “Yeah, fun.  There are lots of things you can classify as fun.  I’m not sure this is one of them.”  Slamming your locker shut, you grabbed your bag and headed for the door of the locker room.

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” the younger man responded.  “But anyways, get home safe, Doc.  The news was saying that we’re supposed to get one heluva of a storm today.”

“All the more reason to not go out,” you winked.  You pushed the door open and trudged down the hall, backpack slung over one shoulder as you ambled down the corridor and towards the main entrance of the hospital.

“Dr. L/N?” you heard a voice call from behind you as you passed the emergency room’s front desk.  You turned around to see who the voice belonged to and found Janelle, your intern, running towards you.

“Yeah?” you answered, cocking an eyebrow.

“You forgot to sign off on the papers for Mrs. Levin.”  She handed you a clipboard with a pen clipped to it.  You took it from her, scribbled on the appropriate line, and handed it back to her without much thought to what you were doing.  “Thank you, doctor.  And Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah, same,” you responded.  All you could think about after your ten hour shift was your steamed dumplings and lo mein, not some last-minute paperwork.  But as you passed by the desk again something out of the corner of your eye caught your attention.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?  What do you mean there’s no tow trucks available?” You saw a fiery redhead who was red in more than just her hair.  She was leaning up against the front desk, yelling into her cellphone, a backpack sitting by her side.  You watched as she rolled her eyes at whatever response she was receiving.  “Well fine, I’ll just call a cab if you-what do you MEAN they aren’t running the cabs?  How the hell am I supposed to get home?”

You eavesdropped on her conversation as you walked by, trying to make sure it wasn’t apparent that you were listening in.“Please, isn’t there something you can do?  I’ve been at the hospital with my father all day and I need to get home.”  You could hear the desperation in her voice as she pleaded with the voice on the other end.  You felt bad for the stranger, but it wasn’t your responsibility to make sure she got home.  You had no obligation whatsoever to be her taxi driver.  But as you neared the door you felt a nagging in the pit of your stomach telling you to do something.

No, don’t get involved, you told yourself.  You don’t want to do this.  But you felt yourself turning around before you got to the front door, your legs carrying yourself over to the frustrated woman who had been placed on hold by the towing company.

“Excuse me,” you interrupted.  She ignored you as she continued to tap her foot impatiently as she waited to be taken off hold.  “Excuse me,” you tried again.  Still nothing.  She looked even more impatient as you attempted to interrupt her again.  “Hey!” you yelled a tad more aggressively than you’d anticipated.  She shot daggers through you as she glared into your soul.

“What?” she snapped, pulling the phone down to her chest.

“Do you want a ride?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you want a ride home?  Look, the weather is shitty, it’ll be difficult trying to find a cab, and good luck trying to find an uber on Thanksgiving.  I’ve got a truck with all wheel drive, I can get you back to wherever you need to be.”  You had no idea why you were offering this complete stranger a ride back to wherever she came from.  Maybe it was the spirit of the season warming your heart.  “It’s okay, I’m a doctor here,” you added quickly, flashing your ID.

She looked at you with a combination of relief and apprehension.  You were a complete stranger offering her a ride in the middle of a snowstorm out of the emergency room.  “You’re offering me a ride?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Wow, okay then,” she said, hanging up her phone and grabbing her backpack.  She followed you down the hallway.  You could see the blizzard raging outside illuminated by the parking lot floodlights.  It was going to be a challenge to drive in these conditions.

“It’s that one,” you said, pointing to the red truck parked down near the end of the lot.  You zipped your coat up a little higher as you struggled across the uncleared sidewalk, grabbing your keys and unlocking the door so the two of you could hop right in.You pulled off your snow covered hat as soon as you sat in the driver’s seat after cleaning off the front of your car.  The redhead was on her phone furiously texting someone.  “Where do you live?” you asked.

“159 Collard Road,” she replied without looking up from her phone.  You groaned to yourself; it was the completely opposite side of town, basically out in the sticks.  It took you twenty minutes to drive out that way in good weather so you knew you were in for a long drive.

“Alright.  Let me know when we’re getting close.”  You started the car and looked over your shoulder as you carefully backed out of your spot.  The radio kicked on, your favorite local Y/F/M station coming on as you turned left out of the parking lot.

“Y/F/M?” she scoffed, shooting you a look.“Is there a problem?” you asked.  You should’ve left her at the hospital.“No, it’s your car, you control the radio.”“And what do you prefer?”  You couldn’t hide the sarcasm oozing from your voice.

“Y/L/F/M.”  You nodded, gripping onto the wheel tightly.  There was no way in hell you were going to change the station for her, so you decided to turn it off.  The two of you sat in silence as you continued to drive.  The roads were absolutely awful.  You were used to driving in nasty weather, but this was particularly bad.  It was night, too, and you were having to drive without using your brights because of the reflection of the snow.  

Halfway there, you thought to yourself.  Just a little while longer and I can go back home.  Why am I even doing this in the first pl-

Your internal musings were interrupted by a patch of black ice.  The truck fishtailed into the oncoming lane as you pumped the brakes.  Hard as you tried to correct the slippage, you ended up overcorrecting and swerving the other way right into a snowbank on the side of the road.

5:48 PM

“What the hell was that?” the redhead shouted.  You threw the truck in reverse and tried to back out of the bank but it was no use: you were stuck.

“Black ice.  We’re stuck.  Damn it!” You slammed on the steering wheel, angry at yourself for getting distracted.  It was not a good situation: you were stranded in a snowbank in the middle of nowhere on Thanksgiving night in a blizzard with a complete stranger who was getting angrier at you by the second.

“Great,” she sighed, pulling out her phone.  “No service.”  She slammed the phone on her bag, visibly frustrated at the situation as well.

You pulled out your phone, hoping you might be able to call your insurance company to come tow you out.  Much to your dismay you didn’t have a signal.  “Damnit,” you whispered.

“I literally just said there’s no service,” she huffed.  

“Alright then, do you have a better idea?  Because that’s all I’ve got.”

“I’m going to go look for help.  There’s a gas station about two miles away from here.”  She pushed the door open into the bank, the wind howling against the door as snow blew inside.  

“Are you kidding?  You’ll freeze to death out there.  It’s pitch black, we are in the middle of nowhere, and you want to go outside?!”  She must be crazy, that’s the only explanation you could think of.  

“And what’s the alternative then, stay here all night?” she snapped back. “Yes!  We stay here, run the heater periodically, and wait until either the snow stops or it’s daylight and then we should be able to either get out of here or get someone to come tow us out!” You were exasperated.  Sure, spending all night cooped up in your truck with this crazy woman wasn’t the way you wanted to spend Thanksgiving, but it was better than becoming a human popsicle on this stretch of country backroad.

“Right, mmhmm, good idea there, doc.  You stay here and do that, I’ll go and look for a way home.”  She jumped down from the truck, sinking into the deep drift.  You watched as she pulled one leg from the drift, trudging her way back to the road.  You groaned, frustrated at the fact this woman was about to wander about in the middle of the night and that you were probably going to have to follow her against your better judgment.

“Hey wait!  Wait a minute!” You unbuckled your seatbelt, sighing as you opened the door.  Wind whipped against your face as snow fell through the air.  It was an absolutely miserable night made worse by your miserable disposition.  The stranger looked back at you.  Her small figure looked even smaller as she hugged her coat against her chest.  The snow was falling hard enough that it was difficult to make her out against her phone’s flashlight.  

“Are you coming?” she shouted.“Only because I’m not going to let you wander around the woods in the middle of the night.”  The wind was rushing against your ears, freezing your words as they left your mouth.

“I don’t need you to protect me if that’s what you’re thinking.”  The look on her face, from what you could see, was one of disgust.

“Oh, I don’t care about protecting you.  I’m only here to-” Before you could get your next thought out you found yourself flat on your face in the snow.  The cold seeped through your clothes and chilled you to the bone.  As you pushed yourself up and sputtered the powder out of your mouth, you heard a slight giggle coming from ahead of you.  You looked up to see the redhead turning away from you.  “Is there something you want to share with the rest of the class?” the sarcasm dripped from your mouth.

“Not at the moment, but I’ll let you know.” Her hidden glance revealed a smirk forming over her lips as she pressed on, not letting you see how amused she was by your current predicament.

Groaning, you attempted to jog through the knee deep drift to keep up with her.  She had made her way over to the side of the road and was walking in what she hoped was the direction of the gas station.  You fought the blizzard every step of the way, trudging through molasses as your eyes strained to follow the dim light.  Your frustration built in your chest, causing one singular thought to race through your mind:

If we make it through this alive, I’m going to kill her.

6:11 PM

“Look, a mailbox!” The flashlight illuminated a snow-covered mailbox a few feet ahead of you.

“Let’s go ask for help.”  The storm had intensified dramatically in the short time the two of you had been walking.  The biting wind nipped at your red hands and ears.  In that time you made a mental note to never leave home without a hat and gloves again.  You scoured the area in front of you for a sign of a driveway, but any indication of one had been blocked by thigh-high drifts.

You watched the redhead struggle to carve a path through the snow only to befall the same fate you had earlier when you left your truck.  As she face-planted into the mound in front of her, you let out a small chuckle.  It was a sight to see: she flapped and struggled her way up like a goose in a most ungraceful fashion.  A part of you thought you should make sure she was okay.  “Are you okay?” you asked as you managed to push yourself over the drift.

“I’m perfectly capable, thank you.”  She flipped her scarf around her neck as she pushed herself to her feet in the ankle deep snow that covered the long driveway.  “I’m sure you are,” you mumbled under your breath.  You followed her straight into the snow-covered woods, spotting what looked to be a small cabin nestled beneath a group of tall pine trees.

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s home,” she said.  

“I’ll go take a look,” you shrugged as you eyed the enclosed porch.

“Wait!”  You turned to see the woman clutching at her chest.  “My necklace!  I have to go back and find it!”

“You can come back after the spring thaw and look for it then.  There’s no way you’ll find it now.”  You couldn’t believe the ignorance of this woman…first getting out of your warm truck and now this.  You turned back, reaching for the rickety screen door.

“It was a gift from my dad.  I have to have it!”  She walked like a goblin, crouching in an unflattering position as she combed the ground for a glimmer of the silver chain.

“Well I’m sure he can buy you another one.  Come on, I’m going inside.”

She stood quickly, tilting her head as she stared at you angrily.  “He’s dying,” she stated matter-of-factly.  You fidgeted in place as she stared at you, eyes boring into your soul as she huffed by.  Her frustration played out as she rattled the knob on the front door, slamming it down in dismay as it refused to open.  “It’s locked.”

Your eyes wandered around the small room, scanning the dark corners for something to break you in.  A pile of bricks caught your attention.  You picked one up, feeling its cold weight in your hand as you turned toward the door.  “Stand back,” you told her, pushing her back with your free arm.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.  You’re going to-”

Crash!  The window cracked as glass tinkled to the floor.  You reached in, feeling your way down the door to unlock it and push it open.  “After you,” you bowed mockingly, extending your hand.  She rolled her eyes, pulling off her hat as she stepped inside the dark foyer.

You felt up the wall for a light switch, flicking it on but the room remained dark.  “Power’s out.  Storm must’ve knocked it out.”  A sharp crack and a small flicker of light lit up the table in front of you.  The stranger found a pair of candles on the sole kitchen table.  Her face was illuminated by their dim glow as you watched her emerald eyes take in her new surroundings.

“There’s a fireplace right there.  I think I saw a pile of logs outside the cabin.  Why don’t you go get some and I’ll look for more candles?”  She rubbed her hands together over the small flame.

You managed to find some snow covered cords stacked against the side of the cabin and subsequently slipped on the ice covering the gravel drive.  Rubbing the bruise on your hip, you regathered the logs and cursed the woman inside as you stumbled through the door.  You were hit with an immediate warmth upon entering, the smell of smoke and crackling of fire creating an indelible sense of home.  The redhead was crouched by the fireplace, a metal poker in her hand.  You cocked your head at her quizzically.  “How’d you get that started?”  Grinning smugly she reached to the side to reveal a cabinet loaded with logs.  “A heads up would’ve been nice.”

“What, and deny you the chance to prove your manhood?”

“Touché,” you nodded as you set the wood down.  As you removed your sopping outerwear, you took a moment to take in your new surroundings.  The cabin was small, only one main room.  On one side was a small kitchen complete with an oven, sink, and refrigerator.  A round table sat in the middle of the room, a chair placed on opposite sides.  There was a sofa directly in front of the fireplace.  Two end tables sat on either side, and a coffee table sat directly in front.  There were two doors on either side of the fireplace: one led to the bedroom and the other to the bathroom.  A chill ran down your spine as you blew into your hands.  “Alrighty then, how about I try to find something to eat?  You should go see if they have any clothes for you to borrow, you’re absolutely soaked.  Maybe jump in the shower, too”

“Right, a cold shower and a stranger’s clothes.  That’s the way I want to spend my Thanksgiving,” she rolled her eyes at your remark.

“It’s gas, the water should be hot.”  

“Really?” Her eyes widened at the revelation.

“Mmhmm,” you nodded.  “And if we’re going to be sleeping together tonight, I should probably introduce myself.  I’m Y/N.”

“Wanda,” she replied as she opened the bathroom door.

“Did you ever watch the movie Psycho?” you posed. 

“Yeah.  Why?”

“No reason,” you grinned.  The door slammed shut.

7:20 PM

“Hi,” a quiet voice said.  It was Wanda.  She was wrapped in a fluffy red plaid housecoat, her damp hair hanging limply behind her.  “What’d you find?”

“You’re in luck.  They happened to have half a box of spaghetti and a jar of sauce in the cupboard.”  You weren’t a cook by any stretch of the imagination, but pasta was manageable.  “And there’s a bottle of wine on the table.”

“And you managed to set the table.  I’m impressed,” she joked as she observed your feeble attempt at making the sparse setting look nice.

“I am a man of many talents.”  You carried the pot over to your table, spooning some pasta onto both of your plates as Wanda sat down.  

“Well, it is edible.  Barely,” Wanda informed you as she took a bite.  “Please tell me you have someone else who cooks for you because otherwise this is just sad.”

“I eat out a lot,” you laughed.  “That’s the whole reason I became a doctor…it’s easier than trying to learn how to cook.”

“So you work in the emergency room then?” She took a sip of the red wine she had poured for the two of you.  You nodded, your mouth full of the overcooked spaghetti.

“Yeah.  It’s crazy, but you’re always on your toes.  That’s why I like it.  You’ll never have the same day twice.  There’s always something new, you’re constantly calling on everything you learned in med school, and I like the adrenaline rush.”  She looked at you curiously.  You couldn’t tell what exactly she was thinking or what she wanted to say.  

“I don’t ever want to spend time in an emergency room again.  I don’t know how you can do it day after day.”  Her voice softened as her head dropped down to stare at the pasta she spun on her fork.  

“You were in there with your dad, right?”

She sniffled, rubbing her nose with the sleeve of her housecoat.  “Yeah.  He’s got cancer.  Stage four.  I’ve been taking care of him for the last few weeks.  But today he had a stroke.  So they admitted him and told me that he doesn’t have much time left.  The doctor said she’d be surprised if he made it through tonight.  So I was trying to get home to get him the picture of our family that sits by his bed, but my car wouldn’t start.  I tried to get a tow truck but all of them were busy with the storm.”

You felt your heart sink.  “I’m sorry,” you murmured.  

“I just don’t know what I’m going to do when he goes,” she sighed.  “He’s all I have left.  My mom died ten years ago and my brother was killed in a car accident last spring.  I quit my job and gave up my apartment to move out here to take care of him.  When he’s gone…” Her eyes filled with tears as she trailed off, staring across the room to the window on the other side.  “Sorry,  I don’t even know why I’m telling you any of this.”  She shook her head, immediately redirecting her attention to her dinner.

“No, it’s okay.  It sucks, cancer sucks, and I’m sorry that this is what you’re dealing with right now.  I see it every day and it doesn’t get easier, believe me.”  Images of your worst trauma cases flashed through your mind.  You physically recoiled at the gruesome scenes.  “Look, I promise that once we get out of this mess I will get you back to that hospital as fast as I can so you can be with him, okay?  And I’ll make sure to come up and check in on him, too.”  You reached out to grab her hand.  Her skin was soft and warm.  You felt your heart skip a beat as you grasped it, which surprised you.  A soft smile spread over her face as she felt your hand in hers.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

10:43 PM

“And that is check, I believe,” Wanda boasted as her rook took your knight.

“Again?!  Are you kidding me?  What the hell, Wanda?”  You threw your hands in the air.  This was the fourth game she was beating you at.  You weren’t a chess champion by any means but Wanda was on a completely different level.

“It’s just check, Y/N.  You can still win,” she giggled.  

“Yeah, right.  Why don’t I just hand the game to you now and we’ll call it a night?” 

“Oh you’re no fun,” she pouted, putting away the pieces.  After dinner, she had found the cabinet where the owners hid their collection of board games.  The two of you had finally settled on chess.  It was one of her favorite games.  Her father had taught it to her and her brother, who you learned was named Pietro, when they were kids.  She had played on the chess team in high school, which you thought made her a bigger nerd than you and your middle school quiz bowl team.

“I know, I’m a party pooper.”  You stood up and yawned, stretching your stiff limbs.  “I don’t know about you but I’m ready for bed.  You go take the bedroom, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No, I’ll take the couch, it’s okay.”

“Wanda, I’m a doctor.  I’ve slept on countless gurneys and on-call beds before.  I’m used to it.  Take the bed.”  She didn’t move, curling herself into a tighter ball where she sat instead.

“Fine.  Give me a minute.  I’m just resting my eyes,” she mumbled.  She shut her eyes as she crossed her arms and snuggled into the back of the couch.  You chuckled, pulling the blanket off your lap and placing it over her.  As she drifted off to sleep her light snores echoed through the small room.  You positioned yourself on the other side of the couch, watching as her breathing slowed and her face relaxed.  Hopefully sleep would be kind to her, relieving her of the horrible reality she would face in the waking world.

Friday, 7:03 AM

You woke to the peculiar sensation of being squeezed.  Looking down, you noticed that Wanda had made her way to your side of the couch and had wrapped her arms around your chest, resting her head in the crook of your shoulder.  The sight startled you at first, but you quickly found it endearing.  You were holding her with one arm wrapped around her.  Your other hand was running your fingers through her soft red hair, teasing each strand as you traversed its length.  Her eyes fluttered open at the tickling sensation, which quickly turned into a look of horror.

“Oh god I’m sorry.”  She recoiled as soon as she released the compromising position she was in.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” you reassured.  The truth was you really hadn’t minded it.  You liked the feeling of comfort her body provided as it wrapped around yours.  

She sat back on her knees, looking out the window.  “Looks like the storm stopped,” she noted as the sun streaked through the window.

“I’ll try calling a tow truck again, see if they can get us out of here.”

An hour later the two of you were in the cab of a tow truck headed back into town.  You’d left a note and some money for the owners to explain why you broke into their apartment and ate their food.  Once you got your truck back, you dropped Wanda off at the hospital before driving back to your apartment to grab a quick shower before heading back for your own shift.  While holidays were normally busy in the ER, you were hoping that today might be relatively quiet.  It wasn’t so much about not having to rush from bay to bay dealing with patients as much as it was being able to slip away to check on Wanda and her father.  Your palms began to sweat as you gripped the steering wheel, pulse quickening at the thought of seeing Wanda later in the day.  You shook your head to clear the images of the redhead from your mind.  After all, you were only concerned about how her father was doing, right?    

6:22 PM

You collapsed onto a gurney in the trauma bay, groaning as you rubbed your throbbing temples.  All you wanted was a beer and the chance to rip your shoes off.  You hadn’t stopped moving since you stepped foot in the hospital almost ten hours ago, even forgoing your lunch to help the ortho attending reset an elderly lady’s dislocated hip.  It was also the first time all day you’d allowed your mind to wander back onto the woman who was in the forefront of your mind.  Glancing at your phone, you panicked slightly as you jumped off the gurney and raced to the elevator.  Your heart was pounding with anticipation as you pushed the down arrow.  You bounced your knee up and down in the agonizing moments it took for the elevator to pull up to your floor.  When the doors opened you rushed in and pressed the button for the ICU.

“Come on, come on,” you muttered, slamming the button as fast as you could.  The doors didn’t close quick enough for your liking, and you spent the entire ride pacing around.  You were on a tear down the hall as soon as the doors opened, vaguely remembering a conversation you and Wanda had earlier in the day about the room her father was in.  You mumbled numbers to yourself as you jogged down the hall until you found the right one a few yards ahead of you.  Slowing down to a walk, you tugged on the lapels of your white coat and attempted to smooth out your scrubs before you turned into the room.

It was empty.

Your heart sank as you realized what it meant: he was gone and Wanda was all alone.  The cold emptiness of the room enveloped you, creeping into your very soul as an overwhelming sense of sorrow invaded your heart.  You felt a lump in your throat as you thought of her alone, trying to pick up the pieces of her life.  You threw your hands in your pocket, shuffling out of the room as you wondered how helpless she must feel.  All you wanted to do was find her and hold her until she realized that you weren’t going to let her world end.  But you had no idea where she even was.  Besides, why would she want to see you at the worst moment of her life?

Sunday, 11:19 AM

Taking a bite out of your bagel, you thumbed through the pages of the local Sunday Times.  You scoured the headlines for the one you were looking for: obituaries.  It had already been two days since Wanda’s father had passed, more than enough time to write a simple summary of his life.  More than once you’d wondered whether or not you should drive to her father’s house to check in on her, but your nerves got the better of you.  As you sipped your coffee, your eyes settled on the word you’d been looking for: Wanda.  You quickly skimmed the obit, looking for the information you wanted.

There will be no services as per the deceased’s wishes.

You sighed, throwing the paper down.  The funeral would’ve been the perfect excuse for you to check in on her.  Your stomach churned with  feeling that you should’ve been there for her that day.  You paced around the room furiously, mind racing a thousand miles a minute with different ideas, excuses to see her and make sure she was okay.  But the more you thought about it, the more you realized that the only real option you had was to go and see her.

2:49 PM

Carrying a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bag of Chinese takeout in the other, you shifted your weight from one foot to the other as you stood outside the front door.  The way your stomach twisted up in knots surprised you.  You could stay completely calm in the most stressful of work situations, but the thought of facing her again made you want to run away screaming.  The deep breaths you took did little to quell the churning feeling growing inside you as you raised a shaky hand to knock on the frosted window.

The moments between you rapping on the door and Wanda answering felt like eternity.  Time came to a screeching halt as your mind raced through different what if scenarios.  The bag started to slip from your grasp as your palms moistened with anticipation.  It was far too late to turn around by now.

The door opened slightly at first, a single eye peering out from the crack.  You gave a halfhearted smile as you saw the outline of Wanda’s face in the dark room.  Her eye widened as she realized it was you, opening the door fully as she stared at you in amazement.

“Y/N?” she asked incredulously.  In a moment her world turned upside down again.  A small part of her hoped that you would show up at the hospital before her father died and she was hurt when you hadn’t.  

“Hey,” you said weakly.  When she opened the door fully you saw how much of a mess she was.  Her eyes were sunken and hollow, highlighted by deep bags.  Her hair was falling out of a messy bun on top of her head.  She wore pajama pants and an oversized hoodie, both of them wrinkled by hours spent curled on the couch.  “I, umm…can I come in?”  She nodded as she stepped back to give you space to come in.

Wanda shut the door behind you as you stepped in, slipping off your sneakers and placing them off to the side.  The house was chaotic.  Boxes and garbage bags were piled all around, the remnants of a life complete tossed carelessly inside.  Unopened cards were scattered around the table between drying bouquets of flowers.  Dirty pots and plates were stacked high in the sink while a half-empty pizza box sat on the counter.  

“What are you doing here?” Her meek voice broke your train of thought.  The redhead stood before you, looking like a shell of the woman she was three days ago.

“Well, for starters I brought Chinese food to make up for that pitiful Thanksgiving dinner I made the other night,” you stated while holding up the bag.  “Orange chicken, steamed dumplings, and veggie fried rice.”  Wanda stared at the bag.  You couldn’t read the vacant expression on her face that made her very soul look hollow.  “And I wanted to express my condolences about your father.” 

A spark brightened her eyes as you handed her the flowers.  She grabbed them from your outstretched hands, holding them tenderly and examining them carefully as if she’d never seen something so beautiful before.  She inhaled deeply, basking in their sweet scent as she pulled them to her chest.  “Thank you,” she murmured.  She didn’t make eye contact with you as she spoke.  

“Do you want to eat?” She nodded.  “I’ll go grab some bowls.”

“No it’s okay.  I’ve got it.  Why don’t you go sit in the living room?”  

You wandered your way through the darkened house, the living room illuminated by the glow of the TV.  You cleared some papers from the couch, stacking them off on the coffee table as Wanda rejoined you with two bowls and two sodas.  The two of you sat in silence as you watched her scoop some rice into her bowl with her chopsticks.  Her eyes were glued to the television as you ate.  You sensed she wanted to avoid conversation as the energy of the room shifted.  She became cold and withdrawn, oblivious to the world outside of the flickering screen.  But you didn’t want to interrupt her.  If she wanted to drown her grief in old sitcom reruns then so be it.

You watched The Dick Van Dyke Show for a couple hours, her occasionally chuckles interrupting the program.  As much as you wanted to talk you didn’t mind just existing in the same room as her.  It was comfortable and familiar.  But after five or so episodes, Wanda was the one to break the silence.

“I hoped you’d come up to see him before he died.”

You sat in stunned silence, unsure of how to respond to her confession.  Friday night was still eating away at you, the fact you hadn’t been able to make it up to the ICU in time.

“I tried to.  I saw patients for over ten hours straight that day and I didn’t have the chance to sneak away all day”  It felt like a pathetic excuse, but it was the truth.  

“I understand.”  She turned her head away from you slightly.  It did nothing to hide her sniffles as she started to cry again.

“But the first chance I had I ran up there as fast as I could.  He was already gone by then.”

Wanda turned back to you, her face streaked with fresh tears.  “I waited all day for you, you know?  I kept hoping and praying that maybe, just maybe, you’d show up.  It was stupid of me to think this random guy I just met would show up for my dying dad.  Because you didn’t show up so now on top of being sad that my dad just died I’m upset that a complete stranger wasn’t there, too.”  She wiped her face with her sleeve as she choked out her words through strangled sobs.

“Oh Wanda,” you sighed.  “Come here.”  You opened your arms and reached out for her.  She crawled into your chest as you pulled her close, her chest heaving as she sobbed into your shirt.  You wrapped your arms tightly around her.  Her cries were muffled against your body.  You traced your fingers up and down her back as you held her, rocking ever so slightly back and forth in an attempt to soothe her.  All you wanted to do was take her pain away.  It was odd how much you found yourself caring for this stranger.  In that moment she was the most important thing in your life. That terrified you.  “I’ve got you,” you soothed, drawing your hand up her back and pulling her head closer to her chest, as if your enveloping touch would heal her wounds.

“I miss him so much,” she gasped between sobs.  

“I know.”  

“They’re all gone.  My entire family is gone and I don’t know what to do,” she sniffled.  She was living her own worst nightmare, completely alone for the rest of her life.  No parents to bring a boyfriend home to, no brother to help take care of aging parents, no core group to celebrate the small things with.  She had friends, of course, but that didn’t erase the trauma of losing one’s entire family at such a young age.

You wracked your brain trying to find the right thing to say.  Wanda was deep in the throes of grief and you wanted to help steady her.  But what could you say?  You’d never lost a parent before.  “Wanda I- '' You swallowed the lump in your throat, leaning your head down to rest next to hers.  The world stood still as your heart pounded in your ears.  “You’re not alone,” you whispered in her ear.

She pulled away from you, her bloodshot eyes widening as she studied your face.  They darted back and forth searching for anything that might reveal the hidden secret of your words.  

“The truth is I don’t want to leave,” you sighed.  “I can’t stop thinking about Friday and I’m so, so sorry I wasn’t there for you.  I wanted to come see you sooner, but I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

“Why would you think I wouldn’t want to see you?”  She grabbed your face and pulled you in until your lips were millimeters apart.

“I don’t know.  I guess I kept trying to tell myself that you didn’t want to see me so I could convince myself that I didn’t want to see you,” you admitted.  It was hard to swallow your pride in front of her, but you couldn’t deny how she’d absolutely captivated you in the short time you’d known each other.  “I’m sorry, Wanda.  I should’ve been there sooner.”

No sooner had the words left your mouth did Wanda close the gap between the two of you.  The tender brush of her lips against yours was absolute bliss.  They were soft as you kissed her back, losing yourself in the remnants of her cherry chapstick.  You felt your heart pounding as her hands started to tangle in your hair, causing you to smile against her lips.  You felt her smile back when you hugged her closer to you.

She was the one to break away from the kiss first.  You watched as her face lit up for the first time all day.  All of her worries had seemingly melted away.  “And here I was thinking that what happened between us was just one special night,” she smiled.  It made your heart skip a beat.

“As much as I enjoyed it, Wanda, I could do without the whole getting stranded in a blizzard thing again,” you joked.  Wanda giggled as she rubbed the back of your neck, her touch sending shivers up your spine.

“Why don’t you stay tonight so we can try again?” she teased.“Are you sure?”  You brushed your thumb over her chin as you looked at her with concern.

“Please.  Stay with me.”

You sighed as you looked into her eyes.  They were pleading with you to stay.  Your brain was telling you that staying might not be the best idea, but your heart wouldn’t let you leave.  You had to stay with her: there was no other option.  So you wrapped her close again, pulling her close enough that she could feel the way she made your heart pound against the confines of your chest.  “Okay, I’ll stay,” you murmured against her head, giving her a quick peck as the two of you sat on the couch.  “We’ll get you through this, I promise.”  

[forhappysake]

What Lurks Within, Pt. 3

Author's Note: I know this is only my first series, but I'm having soooo much fun with it. This section offers some more background on Y/N's past with the team. If you love lore, this is for you!

Content: When the team gets a lead from the local department's tech analyst, they're forced to look into a questionable detective with a long history of complaints against him. Before they can talk to him, they've got to get him to the precinct, triggering some hard memories from the past as old fears reemerge.

Warnings: Mentions of harassment/sexism in the workplace, brief mentions of Cat Adams and Scratch, mentions of past trauma, established relationship... I think that's pretty much it!

After the detective stormed out of the precinct, the team slowly shuffled out of the conference room into the main bullpen. The young tech worker, evidently named Richie, bent over his shattered monitor. “My poor screen,” he mumbled, bending down to pick up a shard of glass on the floor. 

“Richie,” I said, “I’m Agent L/N with the BAU. I’d like to know what all that was about.” I feigned ignorance. I wanted to hear it from Richie’s perspective, and I didn’t want him to know Whittenden had already discussed the matter with Spencer and I. 

Richie sighed, standing up straight and rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “You see, when I get files from my bosses, I don’t read them, let alone open them. I just sent them on to whatever department they’re meant for.” I nodded in response, and Richie continued. “The detective thinks I messed with his files, but I didn’t! I swear! I have no reason to…” Richie trailed off, getting distracted by his broken monitor littered over the office carpet. “I can’t believe he did that.” 

“Do you know anyone who would have a reason to alter Whittendon’s files?” Emily asked, making her way to the front of the group standing in the conference room doorway. 

Richie shook his head. “Look, I’m just the tech guy. I send emails and fix computers. I don’t get involved in all the office drama and crime stuff.” Emily and I made brief eye contact. How can you avoid the “crime stuff” while working in a police department?

“Anyway, I have a hell of a mess to clean up now… If you’ll excuse me…” Richie bent down to the floor, picking up shards of shattered monitor and trying to find any missing pieces that had gone askew on the floor. I sighed at the next dead lead. I made my way back to the team, and just as I started to rejoin the team in the conference room, Richie’s voice came from behind me. “Agent L/N?”

“Yeah, Richie?” I asked, turning around to face him. 

“You didn’t hear this from me, but I know Detective Andrews has been after Whittenson’s job for months,” Richie shifted nervously on his feet, looking around the office with paranoia evident in his eyes. 

I narrowed my eyes, and nodded. “Thank you, Richie. We’ll look into that.” So much for never partaking in water-cooler gossip. The young man nodded, continuing to pick up pieces of the monitor scattered on the floor.  

I rejoined the team in the conference room, shutting the door behind me once again. “Did you guys hear that?” I asked. 

“I did,” said Emily, “I’m getting Garcia on the phone right now.” Clicking her contact and turning her phone on speaker, Emily set her phone in the middle of the table. After two rings, a bubbly voice came over the other line. 

“Hello, my pretties. How is Denver?” Penelope said. I could almost hear the smile on her lips, and I felt a small smile cross my own face. 

“It’s okay, Garcia. We need your help,” Emily answered. 

There was a moment of silence as I heard Garcia click around on her computer before she spoke again, “I am at your service, my fine-feathered FBI friends. Tell me what you need to do.”

Emily spoke again, “We need details on a Detective Andrews at the Denver Police Department, preferably anything to do with a recent promotion that he may have missed out on.” I heard Penelope clicking away on her computer. 

“Uh-huh… anything else?” Penelope asked. 

“Not for now. Have you found anything off the bat?” Emily questioned. She crossed her arms in front of her, staring intently at the cell phone. Spencer sat at the head of the table, leg tapping in anticipation. 

“Sending it to your tablets now,” Penelope said. We all heard our tablets buzz from their respective positions on the conference room’s large table. Reaching forward, I opened the file Penelope had sent. A headline caught my attention first: “Detective Ryan Whittendon named Head Homicide Detective for Denver P.D.” I scanned the article quickly, looking for anything about Detective Andrews, when a line of text caught my eye: 

“The decision for who would take over as Head Detective was a struggle. The Department was forced to choose between Whittendon, who has served with the Department for 3 years, and Jason Andrews, who has been with the Department for nearly 15 years. The Department made its decision based on success rates of case-closed and input from other office employees.”

“Yikes,” I heard Spencer mumble. He set his tablet down, scanning the faces of our other team members. 

“No kidding,” said Rossi, “working here for 15 years and getting passed over for the newbie… I bet that didn’t go over well.”

“So what does this mean?” Luke asked, “Is this guy our unsub?” 

“I don’t know about that,” I piped up. “With over fifteen years in law enforcement, becoming a serial killer would require a major personality change.” Matt and Spencer nodded in agreement. 

I saw Rossi shrug. “You’d be surprised what people would do when they feel unappreciated. They feel unseen, and they lash out in any way they can to be seen,” he said. 

“Regardless,” Emily stepped in, “we need to meet with Jason Andrews immediately. Garcia, do you have his home address available?”

“Sending it to you now,” Penelope said again. “Be safe, my friends.” With that, Penelope’s end of the line went dead. Our tablets buzzed once again, this time with Andrews’ address. 

“Okay, here’s how we’re going to do this.” Emily paced around the room, formulating a plan. “Luke and Matt, you’re going to go pick up Jason Andrews. Bring him here and get him situated in an interview room. Spencer and Y/N, I want you to follow behind them as a back up team in case things get ugly when they try to bring Andrews in.” “You’ve got it, boss,” Luke said. He rose to his feet, as Matt followed suit. The two of them headed out the conference room door and exited the precinct. Spencer backed his seat away from the table, standing up and heading for the conference room door. 

“Y/N,” he said, “are you coming?” I stared straight ahead of me, not quite making out what he said. I had an uneasy feeling growing in my stomach. I was never one to be overly superstitious, but I did believe in my instinct, and I was almost never wrong. 

“I don’t know about this, Emily,” I said. She furrowed her brow, looking at me with concern. I was never one to question her decisions or turn down the chance to chase after a bad guy. 

“What’s wrong, L/N?” she asked, coming to rest a hand on my shoulder. 

“I just… I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling.” I felt Emily’s eyes rake over me before she looked at Spencer. The two made eye contact before they both looked back at me. “Y/N,” Spencer said again, leaning down so that we were eye level. “Nothing bad is going to happen. We’re just going to pick this guy up and bring him back here so we can talk to him.” The logical part of my brain knew he was right. The guy was a current police detective, surely there was no danger in that. 

“I- I’m sorry,” I said, “I don’t know what’s come over me.” I stood from my seat. “Excuse me, I’m going to use the restroom before we go.” I exited the conference room without waiting for either of them to reply, brushing past Spencer and making quick work of the long hallway to the bathroom. I slipped in the door, and found myself staring deep into my own eyes. The reflection in the mirror seemed so foreign, so distant. 

I took deep breaths, collecting myself and drying my eyes with a paper towel before tears started to drip out of my eyes. After a couple more seconds of solitude, I left the bathroom, walking slowly back towards the conference room. The door was still cracked open, and I could hear muffled voices inside.

“I’m just worried about her. You know she isn’t fully over everything that happened, Spencer,” Emily’s voice spoke in a hushed volume. I creased my brow. Were they talking about me?

I heard Spencer sigh, followed by a long silence before he replied. “The whole thing messed us all up pretty bad. She’s better, just like we’re all doing better,” he said. The whole thing… Cat… Scratch… part of my life that felt like a pure hell. 

Emily spoke again, interrupting my thoughts, “I know, Spencer. You went through a lot, I went through a lot, but you have to acknowledge that she went through her own unique trauma as well.” You mean being psychologically tortured by a maniac before going through the physical trauma of a life-altering car accident? What’s unique about that?

“She’d only been a team member for six months when the two of you started dating. She’d only been here for a year when Cat forced her into that interrogation room and made her endure the whole night with you. Within hours of that, she was in that awful car crash with the rest of us…” Silence took over once more. “All I’m saying is, I know it’s been a few months since then, but those invisible wounds don’t heal in a few months. You should know that better than anyone.”

A long pause filled the room. I held my breath and kept silent outside the door, waiting for what would be spoken next. “Look,” Spencer broke the silence, “I know what she went through was horrendous and unfair. I think about it every day-” I heard his voice break a bit, bringing tears to my eyes once again. I heard him draw in a shaky breath before continuing, “But she is strong, and sidelining her is not going to make it any better. That’s what I do know.” 

I decided it was time to stop eavesdropping and to stop letting other people decide my fate. I stepped forward, pushing open the door. I took in Spencer’s glassy eyes, and Emily’s grip on the back of a conference room chair before he spoke. “Y/N, how long have you been out there?” he asked. 

“Long enough,” I gave a shy smile, a result of my embarrassment for having admitted to the eavesdropping. “Look guys,” I said, swapping my gaze back and forth between the two of them, “none of this is ever going to be easy for me. This past year has been a lot, but I’m moving forward. We all are, like Spencer said.” 

Emily let out an audible breath. “What I’m saying,” I started again, “is that Spencer is right. Sidelining me isn’t going to help me get any better. I know I have my weak moments, but I always come back. I just did, you see.” I gestured to the bathroom before gesturing to the conference room, “I always come back.” 

Spencer moved over to my side of the table. He reached out his hand, taking mine and offering a gentle squeeze as his show of support. “Now,” he said, “are we ready to go?” He asked it so quietly, as if he was afraid any force in his voice would break me to pieces. “I’m ready,” I said quietly, “it’s going to be fine.” 

“It’s going to be fine,” he echoed. I held his hand all the way out of the precinct to where Matt and Luke sat in their running SUV. 

“Where have you two lovebirds been?” Matt asked from the driver’s seat after rolling down his window.

“I had to use the bathroom, my bad!” I shouted back while jogging over to the passenger side of the second SUV. Spencer climbed in the driver’s seat while I slid into the passenger seat. Buckling our seatbelts, Spencer gave Matt a thumbs-up. Matt drove off, and we followed close behind. 

The ride was quiet for the first minute or so, but I could see Spencer shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “What’s wrong, Spence?” I asked, examining the way his hands fidgeted on the wheel.

He sighed. “I’m sorry if anything I said to Emily upset you,” he said apologetically. “I know we don’t like to talk about the things that happened. I just didn’t want her to bring it up in front of you and make you feel-”

You held a hand up, stopping him from saying more. “You’re right, Spencer. We don’t like to talk about it. Maybe someday we will, but for now, let’s just keep doing what we’re doing.” You offered him a small smile, a way of letting him know that you were okay. He didn’t say anything else, he just nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. You could tell that something else was bothering him, but you decided not to push the subject more. One of these days we’ll get there. 

The next ten minutes passed quickly as you pulled on to a quiet suburban street, Matt and Luke in the lead. Your pager buzzed and Matt’s voice echoed throughout the SUV. “Matt to Y/N, do you copy?”

“Copy, we’ve got you,” I replied. Matt and Luke brought the car to a stop in front of Andrews’ house. Spencer and I stayed parked a few houses back, watching to see if any back up would be needed. Luke jumped out of the car first, cautiously approaching the front step of the large brick house. They had no reason to believe Andrews was a real threat, but it was better to be safe than sorry. 

Matt followed a few steps behind, quickly hopping up the porch’s front steps, keeping a hand on his holstered weapon. It was nearing six in the morning as Luke knocked on the door, “Jason Andrews, FBI!”

Spencer and I watched in anticipation as to what would happen next. I froze as Luke knocked again. I listened over my radio as Luke’s voice rang out again, “Jason Andrews, we need to talk to you!” Suddenly, the front door swung open. A forty-something year old man in a robe stepped out on the front step with a cup of coffee in his hand. 

“Who the hell are you, and why are you on my porch at six in the morning?” Andrews asked, voice low and eyebrows raised in confusion. “My wife and kid are upstairs, keep it down.” I saw Matt and Luke’s shoulders release their tension. 

“We need you to come with us to the precinct to talk. It’s urgent.” Matt said. 

“That’s fine, just let me get dressed first,” Andrews turned back into the house as Luke and Matt waited on the porch. I let out a sigh of relief. 

“Oh, thank God,” I said. That wasn’t nearly as painful as I thought it was going to be. 

Spencer let out a quiet chuckle as Andrews stepped back out onto the porch in a full suit, climbing in the SUV with Matt and Luke. “See,” he said, “I told you there wasn’t anything to worry about this time.” 

This time… The words echoed in my mind, sending the same sickening feeling to my stomach. I didn’t respond as Spencer pulled away from the curb, following Matt and Luke back to the precinct

*  *  *

We returned to the local police department, where Luke and Matt left Andrews in an interrogation room before coming to join the rest of the team. We all sat in the conference room once again, blinds shut and door locked, contemplating our next move. 

“Okay,” Emily said, “I need your thoughts here, team. Who's going to interview him?” We all exchanged glances. 

Matt cleared his throat, “Seeing as how he did pretty well with Luke and I picking him up, I just figured we’d be on it.” Luke shrugged in response, taking a sip of his coffee. 

“I originally thought that, too,” Emily said, standing up from her spot at the table and reaching for a file she’d discarded on a shelf nearby. “That was until I read Andrews’ file.” I felt my eyebrows raise involuntarily. Reading someone’s file was a dangerous game to play, you never knew what you might find. 

“I wondered why Andrews didn’t win the popularity contest that went into becoming Head Homicide Detective,” Emily explained, as she flipped through pages, “but then I read this.” She sat a piece of paper in front of JJ, who began to read out loud. 

“Complaints of harassment against women: twenty-seven,” JJ cringed. “Good lord, how does this guy still work here?”

“So, Andrews is a raging sexist,” Luke said. 

Emily nodded. “Exactly, which is why we need a woman in the interrogation room.” JJ and I exchanged looks, as if to say ‘not it.’ “It will throw him off his game. He won’t be able to focus on lying if he’s focused on being a-”

“A douchebag?” Rossi finished for her. Emily nodded quickly. “Well,” Rossi started again, “who's it going to be?”

Matt chimed in again, “Why not send Y/N in? She’s quite a bit younger, I bet he’ll notice that too.” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I often forgot about my age in relation to this group. Sure, I was only twenty-five and Matt had a point, but that didn’t make me love the idea any more. 

Spencer noticed my discomfort, “Why Y/N? JJ is more than capable.” I felt JJ’s eyes on me, as well as Rossi’s and Emily’s. I did not want to let anyone down, especially after the conversation I’d overheard between Spencer and Emily earlier in the morning. 

“No, Spence,” I said, rising from my seat and moving behind his chair. “I’m okay with it. I’ll go in with Luke, we can handle it together.” I tried to reassure him by placing my hands on his shoulders, but Spencer did not seem to relax under my touch. 

“Great,” Emily said, “I’m glad to hear it.” She handed Luke the file on Andrews to flip through before turning to me. “Don’t let him get the better of you. He’s going to be a jerk and I want you play along with him. Each time you do, you’ll be loosening his lips even more.”

She gave me a reassuring smile. I nodded, understanding what she wanted from me. Besides, I’ve been locked in interrogation rooms with worse people before.

To be continued!

[cookiehusky799]

This takes place in Rapunzel’s Return after “We need him.” before stopping the Saporians. Hope you enjoy! (Updated)

                                Trust and a Quick Snack

              Varian walked with Rapunzel who was holding his hand. He was so happy their friends again. So happy that if he were a dog, his tail would be wagging like crazy. The alchemist realize how much he missed her cheerful fiery personality. Rapunzel gave him a second chance. Eugene, Lance and Maximus….not so much yet. Varian can feel them glaring skeptically as they made their way through one of the castle halls to stop the Saporians.

No one appears to be in the castle, not even the maids. Varian knows their probably hiding from him and the Saporians, but he was not on their side anymore. Varian chose to go back on the right side of history.

And very glad he did. He just hoped everyone in Corona will learn to trust him again.

Suddenly, a loud growling noise broke the silence. It echoed throughout the hall. Everyone jolted at the noise. Max let out an alarmed neigh and Pascal hid in Rapunzel’s hair. Varian gasped, clutching his stomach. He hadn’t been eating ever since him and the Saporians took over the kingdom. The regret and guilt was tearing him apart so much that he stopped eating. Why did his stomach chose this moment to make noise? Rapunzel looked at him confused to which Varian grinned sheepishly at her. She glanced down at the alchemist’s hands on his stomach.

“Was that your stomach growling?” The princess whispered to him.

“Y-yeah.” Varian whispered back, blushing.

“Whoa!” Lance said, glancing around the hall. “What’s that?”

Eugene rolled his eyes. “You.” he said like it’s obvious.

“That wasn’t me!”

Rapunzel spoke up. “He’s right. It wasn’t him.”

The two ex thieves plus horse turned their attention to her.

She placed her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It was Varian’s stomach.” she told them.

The trio looked like they didn’t believe her. As if to prove it, his stomach rumbled again. The alchemist ducked his head down in embarrassment. “Sorry.” Pascal came out, giving a relieved sigh.

Eugene stared at Varian confusion written on his face. “Oh…are you hungry, kid?” The alchemist averted his gaze. “Yeah.” he sighed. “I uh, haven’t been eating much lately.”

That surprised everyone.

Rapunzel gasped. “Really? Why?”

“I don’t know. I-I was so shut down. Didn’t have much of an appetite anyway.”

The princess felt very sorry for him. She wanted to do something to make him feel better. While there’s still time. “Varian,” Rapunzel gave a warm smile. “I’m getting you something to eat.”

The alchemist looked at her surprised. “Now? But we don’t have time! Besides, I-I can wait.”

“It won’t take long.” insisted Rapunzel.

“Yeah, I have to agree with Hairstripe on this one, Sunshine.” Eugene said.

The princess glanced at him sadly before returning back to Varian. “Please, Varian. Your starving.” The alchemist hesitated. He couldn’t understand why Rapunzel wanted to get some food for him when they needed to stop the Saporians from destroying the city. But then he remembered Andrew saying about they need to get the Quirineon on the ship. Hunger clawed his stomach. Yeah, he really needs to eat something.

Varian sighed again, giving her a thankful smile. “Okay.”

Rapunzel made to leave, but felt the alchemist grab her arm. Varian didn’t say anything, only gave a pleading look. He doesn’t want to be left alone with…..

Rapunzel got the message. “Pascal,” she turned to the chameleon on her shoulder. “Can you stay with Varian while I go get a quick snack for him?”

Pascal chirped. He crawled from Rapunzel to Varian. The alchemist let out a tiny squeak of surprise before calming back down. The chameleon sat on his right shoulder then patted his face gently with a claw. Varian smiled at him.

He missed Ruddiger very much.

The princess went off to the royal kitchen. The alchemist suddenly felt eyes staring at him. He knew Eugene, Lance and Maximus still don’t trust him. Varian gulped, turning to face them. They seem to loom over him and never felt so small.

Eugene stepped forward. Suddenly, the ex-thief grabbed him by the shoulders, startling both Varian and Pascal. Eugene was glaring at him with distrust. Varian felt himself beginning to panic.

He gulped again. What’s he going to do? Is this man who was once his idol gonna hurt him? He opened his mouth but was cut off by Varian.

“Look, I’m not up to something, I swear!” he cried, raising his hands up defensively.  

Eugene lets go of the alchemist, alarmed.The two ex thieves exchanged surprised looks. Max huffed, raising an eyebrow. Eugene hadn’t meant to scare him, he was just going to give him a stern warning.

“Relax, kid. We’re not gonna hurt you.” Eugene told him.

Lance added, “But your right about us thinking that.”

The alchemist felt tears welling up his eyes. He looked away, his hand rubbing his left arm. This is too much to handle. “I’m n-not. Really.“ Don’t cry, Varian. Don’t cry.

“Are you sure?” Eugene asked, narrowing his eyes.

The alchemist let out a choked sob, causing Eugene and Lance to reel back caught off guard. Even the horse is startled.

Varian looked up at them, tears rolled down his cheeks. “DOES IT LOOK LIKE I’M LYING?!”With that, collapsed on his knees, sobbing. Pascal comfort him the same way he did to Rapunzel.

As he was doing it, he glared up at Eugene and Lance. The two ex thieves plus horse glanced at one another. Eugene trusted Rapunzel and her decisions. So if she can trust Varian, then he’ll trust him as well. He reminded himself that Varian is still a child.

Eugene got down on one knee. He gently put his hand on Varian’s shoulder. “Hey…Varian?” The alchemist flinched slightly when he felt Eugene touching him. “It’s okay. We’re sorry for being too hard on you.” he said.

Varian gasped. Did he just apologized to him? The alchemist wipes his eyes. “H-huh? But….you have every right to not trust me.”

“That is true, but me and my friend here also did bad things. It all started when we was about your age.” Varian didn’t get what Eugene was implying. “You stealing doesn’t compare to what I’ve done.” he countered.

Eugene gave a warm smile. “What we have is a fresh start. To become a better person.” He looked into the alchemist’s blue eyes. “And you choose to redeem yourself.” Varian glanced at Lance and Max who nodded, smiling at him. He shift his gaze over to Pascal. The chameleon squeaked in approval. With a small smile, Varian looked at Eugene and said, “Thanks.”

Eugene helped him up. The alchemist stared at the large man. He never seen him before. Varian cocked his head at Lance.

“Um. I-I don’t think we met…before.” Lance puffed himself up with pride. “I’m Lance Strongbow!” he said, rolling the “r” in Strongbow. Max shakes his head in annoyance.

“Oh, like from the Flynn Rider books! Uh, n-nice to meet you. Heh, you already know my name.” Varian responded nervously.

Lance chuckled. “Yeah, Eugene told me about you.” Eugene clears his throat to get his attention. “I-I mean the good things about you.” Lance rephrased.

Varian didn’t get upset this time. He knew the large man didn’t mean any harm since they hadn’t met. He then turned to Maximus. “I’m sorry for blinding you with my light bomb by the way.” he apologized to the horse. Varian lift his hand up silently asking Max to pet him to which the horse accepted, lowering his head for the alchemist. Varian petted Maximus with a calm smile on his face. He was starting to feel less nervous around them now.

His stomach growled, Varian abruptly stopped petting Maximus to clutch his belly.

"Ohhhh, there it goes again.” he moaned.

Lance noticed how upset he is. “Hang in there, Varian. I’m sure Rapunzel has gotten something to settle your stomach.” The alchemist suddenly felt a strong twinge of hunger growing in his middle. He froze, his eyes going wide.

“Uh, Var-“

*GROOOWWWLLL*

The alchemist winced. His legs almost buckled under him of how painful his stomach hurts but luckily Eugene was able to steady him. “Whoa! Kid, are you alright?” he asked as Pascal looked at the boy with concern.

Lance turned to Max, visibly startled. “That is one empty tummy.” The horse nodded.

Varian glanced at Eugene, his face full of discomfort. “Man, I’m starving. I think my stomach is getting impatient.”

“I can tell! That was loud! Have the guards been feeding you? Or the Saporians?”

The alchemist swallowed nervously, fiddling with his bandana. “Um….I-I’d rather not go into detail right now, Eugene.” he said.

Eugene was taken aback when he called him by his name and not Flynn Rider. He wondered what was the cause. Eugene can think about that later, but for now he’s concerned about the alchemist’s state. He exchanged looks with Lance, who’s really worried about the boy.

Varian’s stomach broke the tense silence.

The alchemist let out a nervous laugh before frantically trying to quiet his belly.

“Ok, ok, ok! I-I know you’re hungry, but you have to be patient so settle down!”

Varian rubbed his stomach slightly, an effort to make the hunger pangs go away. He listened to it rumble, basically his stomach realizing that it’s getting food. Another sudden loud growl caused the boy to whimper. Pascal on his shoulder squeaked.

“I’m ok, Pascal. Oh, I’m so hungry, I could eat a….a-a horse!” the alchemist said. Max whinnies in shock. Realizing what he said, Varian chuckled sheepishly. “Heh. No offense, Max.”

He jolted as his stomach growled loudly for the umpteenth time. My stomach’s so loud. I’m surprised no one came out to see what it is.

Then Varian realized something. He looked up at the two men.

“Varian?” Lance said.

“You know, if-if we sneak up on the Saporians now, I’ll give us away. S-so yeah, better to eat first, heh!” Varian grinned nervously. “A-and all that villain stuff sure made me hungry.” He hoped the joke would deflect the situation.

“Yeah, you’re right about that!” Lance laughed.

Pascal and Max noticed Eugene wasn’t laughing. They can sense he suspects that something happened with Varian while the team was away.

Eugene saw Rapunzel walking back to them carrying something. “She’s back, Varian.”

Varian turned around to see her, relieved. Great. The alchemist is starved.

He couldn’t make out what she had so he squinted. When she got closer, Varian can see what she has:

A ham sandwich.

The alchemist’s eyes widened. He didn’t expect her to make his favorite food. What a coincidence!

Varian felt his belly churning angrily. “Oh…my.” he breathed out, holding his stomach tightly.

“What’s wrong, Varian? Is it the food?” Rapunzel asked when she made it to him. “No, it’s just…well, heh.” Varian rubbed the back of his head. “Ham sandwiches are my favorite.”

Rapunzel smirked, amused. “Well, I’m glad I made it for you.” She handed Varian the sandwich. “Eat up. We don’t have much time.”

Varian licked his lips as he was about to eat but stopped, hearing his stomach growling again. The alchemist huffed, raised an eyebrow. “Alright, alright. Quiet down. I’m eating, ok?” Varian said to it.

Rapunzel giggled.

Eugene walked over to her. “What took so long?” he asked as Varian eat his sandwich and pulling her aside. Rapunzel chuckled sheepishly. “I did say it won’t take long and….uh. Let’s just say there wasn’t any choices in the kitchen so I went with a sandwich.” she explained.

Eugene smiled at her. “So what happened while I was gone?” Rapunzel asked.

Eugene paused. He didn’t know whatever it was a good time to bring up Varian’s hunger situation or not. He can tell her later or maybe Varian himself when this is all over.

“Oh. We….decided we’re going to trust Varian.” he told her. The princess hugged him. “Thank you, Eugene.”

Just then, they heard Varian groan. “Are you ok, Varian?” Rapunzel asked as her and Eugene turned around.

The alchemist had finished the sandwich and was now clutching his stomach.

“I-I feel something coming up, I don’t know what-” Varian cut off, letting out a burp. Pascal tried to suppressed his laughter behind his claws.

Rapunzel laughed. “Good sandwich?”

Lance chuckled at Varian who blushed. “Nice one, little man!”

The alchemist covered his mouth. “ Excuse me. I-I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s ok, kid. We understand.” The large man reassured.

Rapunzel went back to the alchemist. “Do you feel better?”

Varian nodded. “Much.” He then patted his belly sheepishly, making Rapunzel giggle.

The princess smiled. “Good. I’m glad.” Pascal returned back to Rapunzel. She took a deep breath, putting on an determined expression.

“Alright. Now let’s stop the Saporians and save the kingdom!” And with that, they moved out.