#mild discussion of murder?

[daenysthedreamersblog]

ONLY ANGEL

she's gonna be an angel, just you wait and see

when it turns out she's a devil in between the sheets

and there's nothing she can do about it

summary: you've been 'betrothed' to felix ravinstill since before he could remember, and as that official engagement day draws closer coriolanus is tired of pretending you don't belong to him

parings: academy!coriolanus snow x academy!reader

warnings: MDNI! swearing, mild violence, infidelity, smut, thigh riding, fingering, oral sex, p in v sex, lil exhibitionist kink, mild daddy kink, breeding kink, discussion of murder, reader is a huge slut for coryo, coryo is also a slut for reader, idk probs some more that i forgot

notes: this one was fun :) hope u enjoy!!!

Felix Ravinstill was his natural born enemy. He remembers deciding it when he was younger watching your small hand hold Felix's even though neither of you knew what it meant, he remembers it settling into his bones that very first day at the Academy when Felix had his arm around your waist and you had turned to look at Coriolanus, a small smile on your lips, a cherry sucker in your teeth as you spoke with the voice of a candy coated temptress, "Hi Coryo."

He hated Felix Ravinstill for having you, always had, always will. Today, he especially hated him. It was an ordinary day, most of the students crammed in the academy library to work on their most recent assignments. That's why he was there, stack of books next to him, mindlessly staring at a blank sheet of paper. He could hear the rest of his table too loudly to focus, hear as Festus made some crude joke, listen to how Arachne told him off, as Felix's hand was making its way over to you.

You.

Sweet, pretty thing you. He didn't understand what you saw in Felix enough to let him touch you, nor anyone at that table. But that was the only reason he truly hung around that crowd of elite children, so he could slither in closer to you.

You.

With your cherry sucker rolling between your lips, Felix's hand around the back of your chair as you leaned back the top buttons of your uniform shirt undone, sweat glistening slightly along your chest. It was a hotter fall day, the AC not working in the library, but he didn't mind, not with how revealed it made you. He glanced down, his pants uncomfortably tight as he imagined what your sweat would taste like. He sighed readjusting himself glancing up to see you looking at him. Felix was looking down at a book Festus was showing him as Arachne scribbled something down on a sheet of paper.

You pushed it into your cheek, tongue peeking out at the movement, your fingers dancing on the edge of the white stick. His eyes darkened as the wicked smile played on your lips, he knew you did things like this on purpose; sweetest torture one could bear. He palmed his hard cock, eyes quivering with the little bit of relief it gave him and all he wanted was it to be your hand rubbing him. He wanted to drag you by your hair and slam you on this very table in front of everyone and shove his co-!

"Coriolanus." Arachne Crane drawled .

He blinked up at her, the whole table now looking at him. "Yes?"

"Are you coming to the orientation event tonight?"

The event. The first event of the school year where the Academy stuffed all its students in a room to kick off the start of the year. "Of course." He nodded. "I have to give a speech for the underclassmen." And there would be food, and probably you.

His eyes met yours for a moment as your cheeks sucked in to roll the sucker back the other way. "Always the overachiever Coriolanus." Felix joked his fingers toying with the collar of your shirt and he fought the urge to snap his wrist.

He watched as you popped the sucker out of your mouth, lips a shade redder from it, and he knew if he licked into your mouth he would taste the cherry.

Felix Ravinstill's days were limited.

He knew it would go well, his speech, it was never what he was worried about, he was top of the class for a reason, he knew most of the students didn't care for being spoken to, but he knew once he saw you it would be over for him. He knew you were out there somewhere, maybe listening to him, maybe with your stupid boyfriend's hand around your waist.

And you were, staring him down while your lips wrapped around a strawberry.

He hid his throbbing erection behind the podium.

He wanted to wrangle your neck sometimes, wanted to curse the blood pounding in his cock as he watched you drop the fruit carcass onto your plate and lick your lips. He cleared his throat, his skin too hot, trying to avoid looking to see you pick up another one.

The words felt useless and he forced himself through it letting your eyes bore into his, letting himself press his cock against the podium just to ease the pressure.

You picked up another, taking another bite a little bit of juice sliding down your chin and he fought the urge to run off this stage and lick it off, to suck your chewed up fruit into his mouth. You took your hand, wiping it off your jaw, and sucked it off your own fingers.

He wondered how your mouth would feel around his cock, how warm and soft your tongue would be against him. He wanted to fuck his cock deep down your throat until you gagged, drowning in his cum.

He cut his speech short, getting to the point to get off the stage. He busied himself with food to avoid thinking of you even though that was impossible. He would stay for an hour, eat, drink a glass of posca, and then head home before he shoved a plastic knife into Felix's throat.

You all knew each other, grown up together, and it was always set in stone that you would marry Felix. It was something older families had set up before either of you could talk. You two were always together after that, and he kept you on his arm like a pretty accessory. Coriolanus figured you probably felt indifferent about the whole thing, he had never been able to really ask you about it, and you never gave him straightforward answers if you didn't want to.

He turned finally seeing you across the room. It was cruel of you really to wear a skirt that short in front of him and have Felix's greasy fingers pawing you. A skirt he wished he could push up and bend you over in front of your stupid boyfriend. You would let him too, he knew you would, it's what bothered him the most.

Your eyes met his and held them as you took a sip from your glass eyes burning into his over the rim. You turned, whispering something to Felix, motioning to your cup, and peeling off of him walking straight for Coriolanus.

"Hi Coryo." You smiled brushing past him to where all the food was being kept along the table setting your half eaten fruit down. He loved the way you said his name, how it rolled off your tongue like golden honey.

"Hey." He sipped on his drink.

You refilled your cup, "Your speech was nice."

"Not too boring?" He joked as your body turned to face his.

You smirked against the rim. "I don't think your boring." Your lips were still red from the strawberry and Coriolanus wanted to taste that sweetness, you're so close he can smell it off of you. He clenched his fist instead. "You're the most interesting man I know."

Man. You had said man as if your loser boyfriend wasn't 20 feet away no doubt watching this whole encounter. Coryo leaned down a little closer, "I don't think Felix would like to hear you say that."

You fucking shrugged, "Then he won't." You turned your hair brushing his chest at the movement. "Bye Coryo."

This was the game the two of you played, you would make your eyes, say little comments, accident brush into him, and then you were gone leaving him achingly hard.

You were walking away hip swaying as you walked. You were trouble.

You were his trouble.

Sweet, irresistible you who was forced to leave ten minutes later by your boyfriend leaving Coriolanus to steal your plate of half eat fruit simply to taste your leftover spit and take a long walk home alone to go over what needed to be done.

"Trouble in paradise it seems." Clemensia slid down into the seat across from Coriolanus motioning to you and Felix, upset expression's on both of your faces. "Daddy must have picked out the wrong ring."

Coryo furrowed his brow, "Ring?" He knew it was coming soon, but he'd thought he'd have time to climb his own ladder to take you from Felix by right.

“Oh you haven’t head the news?” Clemmie cocked an eyebrow a sly smile on her face. “They’ve been ring shopping, or their parents have been. They'll be engaged by the end of the year.” She chuckled peering over at the two of you. “He’ll head off to University and she’ll be at home getting fat with his child.”

The food on his plate went sour. “What?”

Clemmie rolled her eyes, “Her father is pushing hard to set the marriage in place. He wants his daughter to be First Lady of Panem, and he is President’s Ravenstill’s direct heir.”

Coriolanus Snow, future President of Panem, I salute you.

Well if your father wanted you to marry the president, he was selling you to the wrong son.

He pushed his food around watching you storm away from Felix. And because he didn't like to waste food, nor look that suspicious he finished his lunch. He waited a few minutes, excused himself, and he was on his feet following where you ran off too.

He looked for a while finding you deserted at a lone table in the library.

"Hey." He said softly to not spook you.

He watched you slowly look at him expecting red eyes and tears, but instead your expression was blank another sucker in your mouth. "Hi Coryo." You still said his name so sweetly like the sugar from your candy laced your vocal cords.

"You alright?" He stopped in front of you.

"Yeah." You sighed rolling it along your teeth. He wanted to ask why you were arguing with Felix, if you truly enjoyed his company, or was this one big farce to appease your family. Instead he stared at you waiting for you to fill in the gaps themselves. You wouldn't, you never did, you never liked to reveal your cards, and he could only assume the argument had everything to do with postponing the engagement and nothing about a ring. You only cocked your head to the side hair falling over your shoulder. "Did you need something?"

He did, desperately. And he was tired of denying it to himself.

He walked over, pushed your chair back and settled his hands on either side of the chair's arms, towering over you. "Where do you get all those?" He asked finger bouncing off the stick.

You smirked up at him your knees sliding between his thighs, "My daddy." He was hard. He felt his pants fighting with his cock as he stared into your eyes. "Do you want one?"

He was sick of this game you played, and he was running out of time.

He didn't answer, but his lips parted as he reached forward and pulled the one from your mouth. He thought you were sick of the game too because you let him, let him slide it off your tongue, watching the trail of spit still attached, and into his own mouth. He pushed it past his lips feeling his cock twitch as he finally tasted that sticky sweet sucker you always had on you. "Cherry."

"Hmm." You had a smug smile on your lips as you stared up at him and slowly he felt your legs begin to part between his own. He glanced down, glanced down as your uniform skirt began to ride up bare thighs. He wondered if he reached his hand under there if he would find you naked and drenched. He thinks knows he would.

"Your boyfriend will be upset if he finds you like this." He says leaning down a little closer to you.

You feign innocence. "I'm not doing anything."

You settle into the chair more you shirt collar widening as he views the dainty gold necklace around your neck with the letter 'F' on it. His fingers go to it, tracing the letter, then he's trailing up your neck tilting your face up more by your chin. He wants to strangle you with it. "Do you enjoy teasing me angel?"

"Do you enjoy getting hard by it?" You ask back and he shoves your sucker deep into his cheek to grid his teeth. Your eyes go to the bulge in his pants.

His hand tightens on your jaw, "Let me come over."

"My daddy won't like that." You shake your head.

His cock throbs. "I don't care."

Your hand splayed against his chest as you sit up more, "Why do you want to come over so badly?"

"You know why," His fingers dig into your skin fighting the urge, forcing restraint into his body.

You move forward more your face inches from him, "Do I?"

"Because you want me to." His eyes flicker around your face. "That's why your always making those eyes at me hmm? Rubbing against me like a bitch in heat?"

Your hand goes to his wrist to pull it from your face, and then your dragging it down between your legs. He can't look away from your face, not as you trail his hand up your thighs to brush his fingers against your soaked pussy. He was right, you weren't wearing anything under your skirt and he knew it was just for him, and him alone. "I can't help it." You pout rubbing his knuckles against your folds. "You make me so wet all the time Coryo."

He curses as you shutter when his fingers bump against your throbbing clit and he losing the battle of self control. He wants Felix to find you like this, find you screaming out for Coriolanus as you cum. Instead he runs his hand along your arousal one last time and straightens up, "Let me walk you to class."

You watch with a flush on your face as he sucks your wetness off his fingers, letting it mingle with the tart cherry of your sucker still on his tongue. He's surprised you don't force him to give it back before Felix's sees. "Okay." You say standing up and he sees your own wetness sliding down your thigh. You let him tuck your hand into his arm so he could walk you out and back towards class. "I think I'll sit with you today if you don't mind." You tell him as you cross the classroom's threshold together. He's not surprised after the earlier argument you seemed to be reeling from.

You take the seat on his left when you usually sit a row down with your stupid boyfriend. And when said stupid boyfriend walks in later a glare settles in his gaze watching him look between you and Coriolanus who still sucked on your candy. Felix grumbles, but sits down anyways with no more fuss, Coriolanus chuckled silently to himself. You don't speak much more to Coryo, just mindlessly doodle on some paper with you head resting on your hand.

But then class starts, and your knee knocks into his.

At first he thinks it's an accident, but a couple minutes later you do it again leaving your leg to rest against his. He wants to reach out, rub his hand up you thigh to bury in your cunt. He wants to watch you squirm and fight the noises he was pulling from you. He wants to make you cum a row behind your boyfriend, and you would let him.

He knew why Felix kept such a tight leash around you, if this was how you behaved off of it.

By some form of grace or luck of whatever watched over Coriolanus Snow, the class assignment required partners. He usually would partner with Clemensia, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up as he turned to look at you, an expecting glint in your eye, "I'll come over tomorrow night?"

You only laughed a little, but you didn't say no. And he watched as Felix came stumbling up from his chair to grip his hands against the edge of the table where you sat like the desperate swine he was, struggling for scraps. "Come over, we can work on it together."

You frowned sweetly, almost looking truly apologetic. "Oh I'm sorry. Coryo already asked me to be his partner."

Felix's angry eyes burned into Coriolanus, "We're always partners though." He leaned forward to whisper. "If this is about our argument earlier I can just..."

"No." You patted his shoulder. "Of course not, but really I can't say no to Coryo now that would be awfully rude."

"I'm sure Clemensia needs a partner." Coriolanus added. "Sorry Felix."

Felix only motioned for you to get up so he can take you home. You stood up and smiled down at Coriolanus, "Bye Coryo."

He watched you walk away wetness still glistening on your legs, the taste of it still on his tongue.

He arrived five minutes sooner than he was supposed to. He knew your parents were home, and wanted to impress them, wanted your father to realize how much better than Felix he was, it wouldn't be a hard task. He knocked, his hand lying limp at his side waiting for someone to answer.

It was your father.

He was a wealthy man, not as wealthy as Strabo Plinth, but enough. It was all about where he had put his money during the war, investing in the right places, unlike the Snows. You kept up with the league of elite children in school, you belonged there in the thick of it all. Snow did too, but he had to work harder to keep that image and he hated that that was the only thing keeping him from you.

He reached a hand out to shake your father's hand, “Coriolanus Snow.” He introduced.

“I know.” He offered a tight smile as he shook Coriolanus’s hand. “She told me you were stopping by to help with some…assignment.”

He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

But your father never moved as he took back his hand, never invited him inside leaving Coriolanus to stand awkwardly in the door frame. “Daddy.” Your sweet voice piped in shoving past his tall frame to open the door more. “Stop scaring him.”

Daddy. It sent a cool chill down his spine as you stared up at your father. “I’m not.” He held up his hands, “ Just wondering why you need help in school in the first place.”

“It’s a group assignment.” Coriolanus added as your eyes flitted up to him. “We got paired together.”

“Oh,” You father relaxed stepping away from the door. “You can work a the table then.” He motioned to your dining room table.

You walked away from him leaving him to follow you into your home and close the door. “We were actually goi-!”

“No bedroom.” You father shot at you without even looking as he disappeared into your home.

You sighed finally turning around, you motioned to the table, “You can set your stuff down here.” You instructed. “I’ll be right back.” You left, no doubt going to gather all your school work from your room. “Are you hungry?” You asked once you returned with your piles of books and papers. You were wearing one of you cute little plaid tweed mini skirts that hugged your thighs and he knew you weren't wearing anything under it.

“I ate before I left.” He lied.

“You can stay for dinner if you want.” You sat down next to him your leg sliding against his. He knew you did things like that on purpose just to touch him, just to drive him insane as your perfume wafted into his nose. He began to protest, he wanted to stay, if only to convince your father he was the better man. “Stay, please.” You set your hand on his wrist as you smiled.

He nodded. “Okay.”

The two of you did get to work after that as he educated you through what was needed for the assignment, your shoulder against his as you watched what he wrote down. Sometimes he truly thought you never payed attention, maybe you thought you were too pretty for school and it wasn’t needed. You were too pretty for it. You didn’t need it. He knew your father had set you up with someone wealthy to ensure you have a long profitable life without having to work for it. Yet, here you were working towards it anyways. He admired it for a moment, but your hand fell on his thigh and he knew he would end up having to do the whole assignment by himself.

He didn't mind as he listened to the quietness of your house. You glanced up at him, and he met your eyes realizing how close your face was, and he knew what you wanted as you bit your lip. "Does your daddy know what a little slut you are?" He whispered.

"No." You breathed slinging your leg over his thigh to straddle it.

His hands went your thighs, "Then you better be quiet angel." He glanced down as your skirt rode up your thighs your bare cunt pressed against the meat of his leg, he felt your wetness seeping through. He leaned back, watching as you rocked your hips against his thigh. He took a second, just one second, to enjoy the feeling of your body against his, enjoy the fact you were riding him, getting off to him, then he was sliding his hands up your bare thighs to wrap around your body. You were so soft under his touch like you had bathed in rose petals. His fingers dug into your waist forcing them to roll against him harder and you made a small noise from the back of your throat.

"Felix can't get you off can he?" You whine as your clit rubs against him, the sweet friction of it all making your head fall back slightly, "No he doesn't know how to handle you does he?" He stared up at you, at your open mouth, and he runs his hand down your hair. "That's why you came crawling after me." You grind against him faster chasing your own high as your hand goes to his pants palming his hard cock through his pants.

You're such a whore, he knows that about you, he knows you hide it so fucking well and yet here you were, fucking his thigh, hand halfway down his pants when your father could come find you any second. It makes him want to slam you back on the table and sink his cock into your wet heat just for him to see, just to prove he was the man of this house, of you. "Coryo." You moan out quietly and he thinks its the sweetest way you'll ever say his name. You slid your hand down his cock. He groans out taking in the sight of your hand working him, swirling your hand around the shaft pre-cum leaking out of the tip.

He wants to bury his face into your mouth, your neck, your breast, but he can only watch you, watch you get yourself off on top of him. He flexes his thighs the same time you tilt yourself forward and your grip tightens on him. He stares up at your face, eyes glazed over as you grind your pussy down hard against him, lip tugged between your teeth pumping his cock at the same rhythm as your body. He feels you clench your thighs and soon enough you cum, drenching his pants with your pleasure. He wraps his hand around yours to fuck your hand faster, harder, and then he's planting it against your soaked thigh to cum against you, hot white ropes of it splashing across your skin. You don't move off of him, you both sit there for a while breathing heavily against each other until you straighten up to stare down at him.

"I don't let Felix touch me." You say hands coming up to toy with the ends of his curling hair.

"Why?"

You only smile and he's never thought you looked more beautiful, sweat on your hairline, red cheeks, and his cum on your body. You glance down at the clumps of white covering your skin, and then you run two fingers through it, gathering it on your fingers, and shoving them in your mouth sucking his cum off. He's mesmerized as you groan gently popping your fingers out and licking your lips. You climb off his body to settle back into your own chair glancing down at the wetness staining Coriolanus's pants seeping down onto his skin a satisfied feline grin on your face.

Your mother came through the next second, “I’ll set the table for four?”

You smiled up at her, “Yes ma’am.”

He dined with your family, a deliciously huge meal, one he hadn’t had in a while and he wondered if your parents could smell your actions in the air. “She didn’t give you too much trouble son?”

Your father’s voice made him look up as he asked, “No sir.”

He turned to you, “Why wasn’t Felix your partner?”

“He went with someone else.” You shrugged pushing your food around.

“I’ll speak with him.” Your father said.

“Daddy no.” Coriolanus shifted in his seat at the whine. “Please don’t.”

Coriolanus cleared his throat watching both eyes snap up to him. “I asked to be your daughter's partner for this assignment, and she was too kind to tell me no.”

Your father relaxed as Coriolanus had saved you from some lecture. You gave him a sly smile as your mother chimed in, “I made apple pie.”

After desert, and a minor interrogation from your father about his plans after The Academy, you walked him to the door. He didn’t like that your father felt the need to exert his power over him. In all honestly he didn't trust your father's intelligence if he thought Felix was a good option for you. You stepped outside with him closing the door behind you. You leaned against it staring up at him biting your bottom lip. He planted his hand next to your head towering over you.

"Are you gunna kiss me goodnight Coryo?" You tilted your face up for him.

"I don't think Daddy would like that very much." His hand comes up to your chin.

You smirk, going onto your toes to brush your lips against his. "Oh I think Daddy will."

He attacks your mouth tasting the sticky sweetness that was you, always would be you. The taste of apple is still on your tongue from your mothers pie, apples and cinnamon everything that was nice layered your lips as he licked along it feeling you part your mouth for him to slip inside. His hands were in your hair pulling you closer as you braced your hands on his chest melding your lips against his. He swept his tongue into your mouth meshing it with yours. He yanked your head back to stick his tongue down your throat feeling your back arch so your breast press against him, and the salty remnants of his cum lace your molars. He nips at your bottom lips your moan vibrating through him as he sucks and tugs on it until he knows it will bruise. Then he pulls back, "Are you going to let me fuck you angel?"

You give him a breathy laugh, "See ya, Coryo." Then you disappear back into your home.

By the time next week hit you were back in your normal spot next to your boyfriend. It shouldn't have surprised Coriolanus, he knew you were just rebelling against the mold your family had forced you into, and he just happen to enjoy letting you use him.

But you turned around, that cherry sucker that tasted so good between your lush lips, and you would smile.

"Hi Coryo." You said it like you had a secret only he knew and he was sometimes forced to jack off in the men's bathroom just to take the edge off. Just to avoid wanting to fuck you right then and there in front of the whole class, and he knows you're waiting for the day he finally does it.

As he tucked himself back into his pants exiting the bathroom you were standing there, back against the opposite wall watching him. Your eyes met and he only leans his shoulder against the door frame of the bathroom. "Felix is mad at me."

He looks you up and down, "Why?"

"Because I told him you were coming over tonight." He chuckles to himself, your eyes studying him as he walks over to you.

"I am?" He asked as you trail your fingers up the buttons on his shirt.

You frown, "I'm needy."

He scoffs, "I hope that isn't the reason you gave him."

"Please," You whine your hand running down his arm to guide it to the middle of your skirt and he can't help himself, even your begging is sweet.

He guides his hand up your bare thighs, your soaked cunt greeting him like it had missed him too. "You need me that bad hmm?" He runs a hand up your center watching you tug your bottom lip between your teeth. He leans his head down taking your lip between his own teeth and sucking on it tasting that lingering cherry sugar as he pushes two fingers into you. Your mouth parts in a gasp as you part your legs more for him. "Does your boyfriend know his girlfriend is a dirty whore? Fucking soaked for me all the time?" You tilt yourself forward sucking in his hand deeper as he curls up against a sweet spot your quiet moan echoing around the empty hall. "You want someone to find us don't you, you want them to see what a fucking slut you are for me."

"Coryo." You whimper nails digging into his shoulders and he hopes you mark his skin forever. He presses his forehead to yours feeling you pant against his face as he presses his palm to your clit.

"That's right." He grazes his teeth along your jaw as he fucks you faster with his hand. "Call out my name when you cum angel." He growls out, "My angel." Because you were, his, he knew that long ago, remembering glaring at Felix when you all were children and he had his arm around you when it should have been Coriolanus. His tongue lolls against your damp skin of your neck and your hand twist in his hair as he pulls your leg up more around his waist.

It's a test of restraint to not wrap your legs completely around his waist and sink into you, to take what is so rightfully his. Instead he shifts his hand, thumb pressing into your clit to listen to your mewls, to the sound of his wet fingers dipping in and out of you at a brutal pace. He sinks his teeth into your neck rolling his tongue along the mark he knew he was giving you, and you love that it will be there.

He feels you clenching around his hand as you moaned out his name cumming against him. Your chest hits his with every panting breath as he slowly lifts his head to gaze down at you, hair slightly disheveled, cheeks flushed, blissfully dazed out from the orgasm he gave you. "I'm making cookies."

Of course you were, he groans as he presses his face into yours capturing your lips with his own hand still buried inside of you. "What kind?"

"Chocolate chip." You smirk against his lips. "I'll let you lick the spoon."

You opened the door for him this time and he wanted to yank you from the frame to run away with you forever. You wear wearing a pretty black minidress with a white long sleeve underneath it, an apron covering you, flour splattered across your cheek, and a pink ribbon tied your hair at the base of your ponytail. It's like you worked so hard to persevere girlhood and innocence to hide the adultery lurking under your skin.

"Hi Coryo." You batted your eyelashes at him as you opened the door for him more to come inside.

He did love the sound of you closing and locking the door for him, "Where's you father?" He asked watching you walk in front of him.

"Working late." You replied leading him towards your kitchen waving a hand around. "My mother is off doing something unproductive."

He leaned against your marble island watching you throw a cup of sugar into the large bowl, "They left you in here all alone?"

You chuckled, "I'm not alone, you're here with me." You cracked an egg your eyes glancing over towards his, "Do you think your parents would have liked me?"

Coriolanus looks you up and down. He thinks they would and maybe in a perfect world where he wasn't an orphan your father would have wed you to Coriolanus. "I could never take you home to mother in a dress that short." He smirks as you slowly begin to stir the batter. He sometimes was surprised Felix let you leave the house if this is how you acted, how you dressed.

"Oh yeah?" You pop your hip out a little.

He straightens up stalking over to you until your back was pressed to his chest, nose buried in your floral scented hair. "She would disown me for bringing home such a brazen slut."

"But her son loves when I dress like this." His hands find the hem of your dress as his fingers trace with the curve of your ass.

He plants his mouth against your neck, "Does he now?"

You push your ass back into his hard cock. "Oh I think he adores how I dress for him." His hand splays across your backside as his teeth graze the flesh of your jugular and he wants to sink his teeth in to stake his claim. "How I never wear any panties for him."

His nails dig into you because he fucking knew it. "All for me." He repeats sucking on your skin until you wince away hoping the mark is deep and purple and Felix knows it's from him.

You turn suddenly eyes flickering up to his face, "The trick is a little extra vanilla.” You motioned to the dough sitting on top of two fingers. "Try some." He wraps his hand around your delicate wrist and brings it to his mouth. He sucked in your fingers eyes never leaving yours as your mouth parted slightly the blush forming on your cheeks as his tongue swirled around your flesh. It tasted delicious, but your skin tasted better like sugar had ingrained itself into every pore. He let your fingers glide deeper on his tongue before he popped them out of his mouth.

"Hmm." He ran his tongue up the sides until all that was left on them was his spit.

You breath. "All for you." He's kissing you then, consuming your validation that you knew what he knew, you belonged to him. He taste the scoops of dough you had stolen, the chocolate and brown sugar mingling on your tongue and he adores that extra teaspoon of vanilla you added. He licks it off the roof of your mouth sucking on your tongue, and then your arching into him on your toes as his hands trail down your body cupping your ass as your dress rides up.

He reaches his other hand back pushing aside your large bowl of batter and then he's lifting you onto the counter loving the way he fits in between your legs. You were made for him, he knew that long ago, cut perfectly from that juicy forbidden fruit Eve ate. His hand goes to your chest kneading your breast over fabric as he slowly lowers you to the countertop spreading your legs open for him. He breaks the kiss descending down your body to peer at you decadent wet cunt. He knows you'll taste sweet down here too, his mouth waters taking in the sight.

"Oh she's pretty."

He can't help but moan into you as he licks up the center prodding your clit with the tip of his tongue feeling your hand find his blonde curls. Your feet come up around his shoulders as he passes over it gently at first savoring the taste of your arousal and knowing he would never taste anything better than you. He traces circles around it slowly feeling you squirm under his touch, hearing your pretty whines, nails scraping against his skull. He dares a glance up at you, at your agape mouth, your eyes squeezed shut as he begins to move his tongue faster.

He decides then he won't wash his mouth out tonight. He wants you stuck between his teeth forever and when tomorrow comes he hopes Felix will smell your cunt on his breath.

He tilts your hips up wrapping his lips around your clit pressing down on it with his tongue as you breath heavily beneath him. He's slithering his arm up your body squeezing your breast. "Coryo." You moan out pushing your pussy into his face more, grinding it against him. He's moving his tongue side to side, hard pressed rhythmic motions that have you a mess in his hands. Your thighs clench around him as you whimper one last time before you cum against his face. He drinks you up, everything you have to offer, lapping up what you give him as his tongue pushes into you for a moment feeling your walls spasming from your orgasm.

You yank his head up by his hair and you shoot up encasing his mouth with your own tasting yourself on his tongue as you sweep into his mouth and he groans pressing his groin into your island.

"Tell me how you like it." You pant out into his mouth teeth knocking against each other.

Coriolanus takes your expression in and he realizes, yes you never let Felix touch you, but you never touched him either. You have never touched another man besides him, saving yourself for him, and it makes him want to shove his cock down your throat even harder. He helps you off the counter onto shaky legs and your going down onto your knees in front of him. He lets you unbutton his pants and unsheathe his hard length running your hand along it.

"Put your mouth around it." He tells you as you bring it up to your lips, and you fucking lick the tip like it's one of your cherry suckers.

Then you open your mouth and wrap your lips around him sliding him inside. He always imagined what your mouth would feel like after so many times of seeing you suck on that hard little candy. It's even better than he thought. He hisses as his hips buck forward a little letting him hit the back of your throat. You bob along his cock once, twice, three times before you pop off blinking up at him with that coy little act, "You're so big Coryo."

He shoves himself back in your mouth, "Wrap your hand around it." That was all you needed to know as you worked his cock, taking him deeper, hand swirling around the shaft tongue lolling against the head. You work him faster, grip hardening around him, sucking in your cheeks as you look up at him with big doe eyes. "Fuck." He gritted out hand tangling in your ponytail to move your head against him, force his cock deeper watching the water well in your eyes, but you never stopped. "You like my cock in your mouth don't you angel? Want my cum down your throat yeah?"

You moan against him in response teeth gently grazing his skin. Your mouth too soft, too hot, hands gripping him so tightly, his hand in your hair holds harder as his thighs tighten. Your tongue sweeps out along his shaft and he's cumming, hot ropes of it shooting down your throat shoving his cock deeper to make sure you took it all.

And you did, greedily, your hand still softly gliding along him as he thrust one final time into your mouth. He wraps his finger around the ribbon in your hair and tugs it out slipping it into his pocket. You popped off, wiped your lips with your finger, and sucked it clean keeping your eyes locked with him.

His hands come around your face as you stand up. "Break up with Felix." He whispers out thumb tracing your puffy lips. He's sick of seeing you with him, not being the able to claim you in front of everyone like he wanted to.

"I have to preheat the oven." Is all you say back stepping out of his hold to go over the the oven.

He clenches his jaw, "I want Felix to know."

You shrug, your back still to him, "Then tell him." You turn after turning on your oven. "It won't change anything." You walk towards him a hand coming up to push his curls away from his face, "Unless..." You peered up at him manipulative innocence in your eyes. "You were the President of Panem."

Coriolanus couldn't get enough of you at that point, he had become addicted to your sugar sweet taste and once was never enough for him.

All it took was one little smile while you licked up the red ball of your cherry sucker, and he was pouncing on you, meeting you in the hallway every time.

In between classes he would shove you into random closets to force his cock down your throat. You two would time bathroom breaks unsuspectingly and he would have you up against the stall wall fucking you with his hand.

His favorite moments were when he hunted you down in the library pretending to read a book. You would look up with a little shy smile. "Hi Coryo." You'd purr and soon he'd have you sprawled out on the table like his own personal meal drinking your pleasure like it was nectar from the Gods.

He came over occasionally too, lying about some assignment or help with a test. Your mother always invited him to stay for dinner, and he would, of course, shove his hand inside you under the table until you came while he spoke to your father.

Felix was suspicious. It wasn't hard to be when you showed up with marks on your neck, the same neck still wearing that ugly 'F' necklace, and the pretty ribbon from your hair wrapped around Coriolanus's wrist. He would only glance back at Coriolanus, and Coriolanus would smirk back at him, but he never said anything.

Everything was wonderful.

Then one day things began to change.

"Let me fuck you." Coriolanus told you kissing your open mouth as you came down hard on his hand. He wanted to be inside you, wanted to trap you to him forever. You would let him.

Your head falls back against the wall, "No Coryo."

"Let me fuck you." He kissed you again. "Come on baby girl, I know you want to."

"I'm waiting until marriage Coryo." You unravel yourself from him fixing your skirt. He knows you're lying, "I'm a good girl."

He scoffed, "Yeah a real angel."

You sighed running a hand over your face. “My father is having Felix and his uncle over tonight.”

“President Ravinstill?” You cringed when he said it. "Why?"

"Because Felix thinks you're up to something and wants to speed things along." His jaw clenched, he was going to murder Felix and his stupid uncle. You flash him a smirk, "He thinks you're trying to corrupt me."

Coriolanus chuckled, "I don't play well with others."

You came closer, hand dipping under his shirt to rest against his bare chest. You kissed his jaw, "You play well with me, Coryo."

He waited outside your home watching through your windows as you ate dinner. You sat next to Felix, fake laughing, hand sometimes brushing his wrist with affection. It boiled his blood and he curses his father for dying, for investing in District 13 to make him poor. You were his. He should be sitting at that table with you planning your engagement.

He knew the only way he would take you from Felix was winning the Plinth Prize at the end of the year, going to University, and stealing that Presidency out from under him.

It was the only way.

He watched you kiss Felix on the cheek as him and his uncle left. He watched you arguing with your father, storming off no doubt to your bedroom. And then he was moving, sticking to the shadows until he was around your house staring up at your bedroom window. He scaled the wall ending up on your small balcony staring into your sheer curtains.

You looked so beautiful sitting at your vanity combing through your hair still in your dress from dinner.

He pushed the balcony door open quietly, but your eyes met his through the mirror. "Surprised you didn't storm into dinner earlier." You set the brush down. He took a seat on your bed raising his eyebrow, "I always know where you are Coriolanus Snow, even if its creeping outside my windows."

"Who gave you these?" He motions to the vase of fresh flowers.

"Felix." Your smile drips in sweetness. "My boyfriend."

You turned to him, "How was dinner?"

"Boring." You sighed leaning your elbows against your vanity. "He's going to propose after graduation." Coriolanus's blood heated. "The ring was beautiful though."

His eyes followed you as you stood, "I could buy you a better one."

Your hands rested on his shoulders as you cocked your head to the side. "With what money?" He glared at you. He didn't like that people suspected he was poor, let alone you.

"Would you say no if I asked you?"

"That's not up to me." You chuckled hands toying with the end of his hair. That 'F' necklace around your throat dangling in his face.

Coriolanus narrowed in on it, "I could just...kill your father, Felix, anyone that got in my way." He reaches up and rips the necklace off your neck hearing it clatter to the floor, broken.

You leaned down, nose pressed to his cheek, the words brushing his mouth in a sweet caress, "Then do it."

His hands went around your back pulling down the zipper of your dress feeling it loosen around your body until it fell around your feet. You stood up stepping out of the dress and Coriolanus looked up your body slowly, taking in every naked inch of your body. He landed on your face, "What do you want angel?"

"Even when you were a boy, you were a man." You slid onto his lap naked body pressed against him hands running through his hair. "I want a man. I want you."

He flipped you onto your back crashing his mouth to yours engulfing your lips with his own. You were unbuttoning his shirt, peeling it off his shoulders, running your hands down his bare chest. His tongue meshes with yours mouths gliding along each other as you burst open the button on his pants. He wants his skin against yours, to feel your warm softness against every inch of him. He pushes his pants down his legs until the two of you are nothing but flesh.

You capture his lips once more as his hand travels up your side his thumb brushing the underside of your breast. You blissfully sigh. He cups your breast, hushing your mouth with a harder kiss. His thumb passed over your nipple, rolling the pad along it, feeling it perk up to his touch a low whine in your throat that he swallowed up nails scraping against his skull. He moves his mouth off of yours trailing down your neck, tasting every sweet part of you until his mouth wraps around your perked nipple lavishing it with his tongue as your back arches pushing it further into his mouth. His teeth nip down on it, licking and sucking as your squirm under him.

He feels your wetness against his thigh and he shifts to run his hand along your folds. "Did you think about me fucking you all throughout dinner?" He presses a finger slightly against your clit. "Thought about all the pretty noises your Daddy would hear down the hall."

Yours eyes darken as you gaze into his. "I wanted you to fuck me during dinner; storm through my front door and take me in front of Felix and his stupid uncle."

"You're such a little fucking whore."

You smirked, "Daddy's little fucking whore."

He shoves his fingers inside you, lips parting at the intrusion. He wants to be inside you, wants to claim everything you are as he thrust his hand in and out of you, stretching you open, the room thick with the scent of your arousal and squelching sounds of your pussy. You buck your hips into his hand to meet him as his palm presses down on your clit and he already feels your walls clenching around him.

He presses his face into your chest, your heart thumping rapidly for him. You were breathless, your legs spreading open more for him as your body tightened around him as he brought you closer to your peak. He curls his fingers against that spot he knows you love and you came undone with a soft cry, clamping down around his hand, nails digging into his scalp. He straightens up admiring you. You looked so beautiful sweat forming across your chest, cheeks red, lips parted to catch your breath as you stared up at him. You simply glanced down at his long, hard length and then back up at him. He knows you're a virgin, knows you'll take his cock like a slut.

He lined himself up with your sopping entrance and pushed into you. He can't help but groan as he closed his eyes moving slowly into you, letting your tight walls adjust to him, squeeze around him. He pauses for a moment the only sound coming from either of you were broken breaths. And then he pushes in until he fully inside you. You gasp at the feeling, the fullness, as you gazed up at him.

Your pussy fluttered around him and he rolled his hips against you pulling his dick back and slamming back into. "You take my cock so well." You arched your back as he slammed into you moaning out for him, wrapping your legs around his body to pull him deeper. His mouth was on yours, a mesh of spit and tongue, your hands rooted in his hair as he fucked into you. He was kneading your breast with one hand, pushing the other into your mattress to fuck you harder. He glanced between you, watching his cock disappear into you soaked pussy, watching how well you took each brutal thrust. "Perfect fucking pussy, made just for me." He drags his teeth along your jaw as your breast press against his chest. He pressed his hot mouth to your ear, "You're fucking mine, you understand that angel?" His hips snapped against yours heels curling into his sides as you nod against him. "Not Felix's...not your fathers...mine." He growls in your ear.

You agree tilting your pelvis up allowing him to slid against that sensitive spot.

His curls spill across your face, he wants to hear you say it. "Say it."

Your brows scrunch as he slides his hand to your clit. You moan for him, "I'm yours Coryo." His grunts fill the room as he pounds into you as you cry out for him over and over again. He hears your bed knocking against the wall, the squeaking sound of the spring as it slides against the floor, neither of you care who hears it. You clamp down around him coming all over his cock squeezing him too tight.

"Gunna cum in this tight little pussy." He hisses out his thrust growing sporadic. "Gunna make you have my heirs." Your too fucked out to care as your teeth sink into his shoulder wanton pleas falling from your lips. He's spilling into you, cumming so deep inside you feeling your walls spasming around him, drinking in every drop of his seed. He thrust it further within you as your legs slowly uncurl from around him.

He pulls back to look at you his cock twitching one last time. "You have a lot of work to do." You tell him fingers twisting the curls along his face a devious smile on your lips and he knows you've never been an angel, not a day in your life.

You were the devil in a candied disguise.

"President Coriolanus Snow."

He will win that Plinth Prize. He will take you from Felix, from your stupid father, by right or by force.

He doesn't care what he has to do or who he has to kill along the way as long as he gets to have you at the end of it all.

PART TWO HERE!!

im a whore for those blonde curls

[ratgrinders]

Never Stop Blowing Up Favorite Movies

Wendell Morris

Weird Science - 1985 science fantasy/teen comedy. "Nerdy social outcast students Gary Wallace and Wyatt Donnelly are humiliated by senior jocks Ian and Max for swooning over their cheerleader girlfriends. Humiliated and disappointed at their direction in life and wanting more, Gary is inspired by the 1931 classic Frankenstein to create a virtual woman using Wyatt's computer, infusing her with everything they can conceive to make the perfect dream woman."

The Fast and the Furious - "A media franchise centered on a series of action films that are largely concerned with street racing, heists, spies, and family."

Real Genius - 1985 science fiction/comedy. "Chris Knight, a genius in his senior year, is paired with a new student on campus, Mitch Taylor, to work on a chemical laser, only to learn it will be used for dangerous purposes."

Liv Skyler

Empire Records - 1995 coming-of-age comedy/drama. "The film follows a group of record store employees over the course of one exceptional day. The employees try to stop the store from being sold to a large chain, and learn about each other along the way."

Scarface - 1983 crime drama, and a remake of the 1932 film of the same name. "It tells the story of Cuban refugee Tony Montana, who arrives penniless in Miami during the Mariel boatlift and becomes a powerful drug lord." Additionally, "Less than two months before the film's release, Scarface was given an X rating by the MPAA for "excessive and cumulative violence and for language".

Clueless - 1995 coming-of-age teen comedy. "Considered to be one of the best teen films of all time...The plot centers on a beautiful, popular, and rich high school student who befriends a new student and decides to give her a makeover while playing matchmaker for her teachers and examining her own existence".

Usha Rao

The Horse in Motion - Published in 1878, a sequential series of 6 cabinet cards depicting the movement of a horse. Regarded as "the world's first bit of cinema", and the first film ever created.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - 1931 horror film. "An adaptation of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the 1886 Robert Louis Stevenson tale of a man who takes a potion which turns him from a mild-mannered man of science into a homicidal maniac."

102 Not Out - 2018 Indian Hindi-language comedy drama. "Dattatraya Vakharia is a lively 102-year-old who lives his life to the maximum and takes everything in a jovial way for his heart is that of a 26-year-old youngster regardless of his age. His 75-year-old son, Babulal Vakharia, is his exact opposite for he believes that he is now too old and fragile to enjoy life and lives a routine life."

Russell Feeld

American Gigolo - 1980 neo-noir crime drama. "A high-priced male escort who becomes romantically involved with a prominent politician's wife, while simultaneously becoming the prime suspect in a murder case."

La Femme Nikita - 1990 French-language action thriller. "[Nikita] is a criminal who is convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment for murdering policemen during an armed pharmacy robbery. Her government handlers fake her death and recruit her as a professional assassin. After intense training, she starts a career as a killer, where she struggles to balance her work with her personal life."

Waking Life - 2001 animated film. "The film explores a wide range of philosophical issues, including the nature of reality, dreams and lucid dreams, consciousness, the meaning of life, free will, and existentialism. It is centered on a young man who wanders through a succession of dreamlike realities wherein he encounters a series of people who engage in insightful philosophical discussions."

Andy 'Dang' Litefoot

Suburbia - 1983 coming-of-age drama thriller. Follows "a group of suburban youths who run away from home and adopt a punk lifestyle by squatting in abandoned suburban tract homes."

Goldfinger - 1964 spy film and the third installment in the James Bond series. "The film's plot has Bond investigating gold smuggling by gold magnate Auric Goldfinger and eventually uncovering Goldfinger's plans to contaminate the United States Bullion Depository at Fort Knox."

Fire in the Sky - 1993 biographical science fiction mystery. "It is based on Travis Walton's book The Walton Experience, which describes an extraterrestrial abduction"

Paula Donvalson

Muriel's Wedding - 1994 Australian comedy-drama. "The film focuses on the socially awkward Muriel whose ambition is to have a glamorous wedding and improve her personal life by moving from her dead-end hometown, the fictional Porpoise Spit, to Sydney."

The Long Kiss Goodnight - 1996 action thriller. "The story follows an amnesiac schoolteacher who sets out to recover her identity with the help of a private detective when they discover a dark conspiracy."

Under the Tuscan Sun - 2003 romantic comedy-drama. "Based on Frances Mayes' 1996 memoir of the same name, the film is about a recently divorced writer who buys a villa in Tuscany on a whim, hoping it will lead to a change in her life."

[casualhedonists]

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter three)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

chapter: 3/? (MASTERLIST)

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, power play, oral sex, thigh riding, degradation, dirty talk, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

taglist: if you’d like to be tagged, leave a comment on the masterlist post and i’ll add you! 💌

a/n: thank you for your patience and condolences / kind messages over the past week i’ve been awol. i’m very happy to be back. very long, filthy and much awaited chapter ahead, so strap in and hope you enjoy the ride.

in the words of miss zegler herself: oh we are so back.

You weren’t sure how long he stared at you, smiling with a fire in his eyes that rivalled yours until it was eclipsed. A third and final time, you found yourself speechless, dumbstruck, and one final time, much like the others, you took a few shaky steps backwards, before turning and fleeing.

He knew. He’d known this whole time. How long had he been planning this? Exactly how much of this had been an act, with Snow puppeteering you as you slowly lost your mind?

You almost felt pity for the girl, because she was played just like you were. She was a mere pawn in his game of chess, where he’d toyed with you until you were backed into a corner, unable to make a move.

Well, not this time. Now you knew what he was playing, you were ready to up your game. This wouldn’t be another stalemate; you wanted to win, and you had a few ideas of where to start.

You were already up and dressed when you heard a knock at your door the next morning.

Dreading the worst – despite the fact that Snow had never actually been in your room before, but the rules had changed now and you weren’t sure quite how much – you paused for a second to prepare yourself, praying that he wouldn’t be there, ready to put a stop to your plans before they’d even started.

You fell lucky. It was one of Snow’s footmen, George.

“Good morning, ma’am. I, um.” He swallowed, not meeting your eye. “I have a message from Master Snow. He’d like for you to meet him for breakfast in a half hour, if you will. He says you have something… quite important to discuss.”

Typical Snow. Never liked to get his hands dirty. Too proud to knock at your door himself.

You considered.

“George, could you please tell Coriolanus that if I’ve already eaten, and that I’ll come to him when I see fit. If he isn’t satisfied,” you added, for his sake, as you knew Snow wasn’t above killing the messenger, “Say I have an urgent matter to tend to, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

You grew a lump in your throat from your refusal, fearing the consequences. But you’d set your plan into motion now and there was no going back. Once George had been sent on his way, you snuck down the stairs on the far end of the building and slipped out the door through the servants’ quarters, where you knew Snow wouldn’t see you leave. The one upside to the last few weeks was that you’d learned how to sneak around the manor unnoticed. You were certain there were at least three hallways he’d had never even set foot in.

You had Lucille call Henry – Snow’s driver – in advance so you could leave right away.

“Where are we going, ma’am?” He glanced at you over his shoulder as you slid into the black town car.

“Head into the city. I’ll explain on the way.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Henry took some convincing – and some light bribing – to finally cave and tell you what and where this gentleman’s club was. Of course, it was a risk, a roll of the dice to go there without concrete proof, but you knew Snow. You knew his little neuroses and hang-ups, and he was paranoid; in all senses, it would seem, except when it came to you. If he’d been frequenting this club for some time – some years, according to Henry – and trusted their discretion, then you highly doubted he’d play Russian roulette and pick somewhere else.

You were dropped off outside, and sent Henry to the tailor to pick up some of Snow’s things; an excuse for the outing, but a part of your plan too. He was hesitant to leave you alone in such a place, but you insisted you knew exactly how to handle yourself, and so he gave in.

You’d deliberately dressed down for what you were about to do, worn your old coat and let your hair down with a hood pulled over it. It being daytime, the place was closed for business, but you knocked on the front door expectantly.

You waited. Went over the plan, and knocked again.

This time, the door opened and a burly man now stood between you and the inside of the brothel. Your curiosity made peek over his shoulder before he cleared his throat.

“Can I help you, miss?”

“Yes. My name is Margaret, sir, I’m a maid at the, uh,” You dropped your voice to a low whisper, “Snow household. I have a message for the owner of this establishment, from my master. Is he here?”

The man cleared his throat and glanced around the nearly empty street, then beckoned you in quickly.

“Anything for Mr Snow, miss. Right this way.”

There was your proof.

The empty club was a classy one, you had to give Snow that. The bar caught your eye, silver panels lining the wall behind it in an otherwise jet-black glossy room, with dark red couches and shiny tables, booths, single chairs, a stage with shiny metal poles, and a few cordoned-off alcoves.

You took it all in, certain you’d be able to appreciate the aesthetics of it more if it wasn’t for the seething rage inside you. You were stopped at a closed door near the back, and the burly man knocked.

“Yeah.” Came a voice from inside.

“All yours. He’ll take care of you.” Your guide stepped away. You pushed at the door.

A dark-haired man sat facing a desk, poring over paperwork. He didn’t look up.

“If you’re here for a job, sweetie, it’s Tuesday after 11.”

This incensed you.

“I’m not here for work. This is official business. I was told you take care of… special clients.”

He spun around, frowning.

“I’m listening.”

“I have a message from President Snow. He has a series of requests to be carried out with no delay.”

“Ah, yes. Mr Snow. I see. And you are to him?” He prompted.

“Just a maid from the household. He sent me as a messenger.”

“Excellent. Well in that case, of course, miss. How can I be of service?”

You took a breath, hoping desperately that he didn’t see right through you.

“Firstly, the shoes your girl wore.”

“What would he like with them?” He asked.

“He’d like to keep them. He’s willing to pay, and he’s not up for a price negotiation. This should cover them.” You slipped a bill across the table, and he nodded. You learned long ago that money causes loose lips, and this man was no exception.

“Of course,” he obliged, “They’re in the lockers through that door there. I’ll bring them to you. We ordered them in specially for Veronica, he made a point for her to wear them on the first floor. Usually our girls get instructions to sneak through clients’ houses quietly, but we handle every request as thoroughly as possible.” He chuckled.

That fucker. He really had planned it all out to get in your head.

“Was there anything else I can do for you, miss?”

You swallowed thickly.

Here goes.  

“Yes, actually. As of today, he’ll no longer be needing your services, or her services. He’d like to terminate your contract, and he doesn’t wish to see her again. Ever.”

The owner blinked. His mouth moved, as if he was about to say something, but then it closed again.

“But, um,” he stammered, “It’s only been three weeks. Veronica is our best girl, and he’s her top client. She carried out his orders to the absolute best of her ability, I can assure you. Are you sure those were his words?”

You sighed.

“She’s getting off lucky with a dismissal. Take it as a warning, sir. President Snow doesn’t show mercy to thieves. If she shows her face again, I can guarantee you, he’ll have her head.”

His face turned plum-red with horror.

“She was… stealing?”

In a way, yes.

“She was caught by a maid last night.” You nodded, and the owner swallowed thickly.

“I – I understand, Miss. I am terribly sorry for this. I apologise that our services weren’t up to your master’s expectations, truly. Please, if there’s anything I can do- and I can assure you, I’ll be having some very stern words-”

You cut him off.

“There is one more thing, as a matter of fact."

"Anything." He pleaded.

"You can send word that… Veronica, is it? She’ll be paying him a visit this evening. But you are not, under any circumstances, to send her. Am I understood?”

He furrowed his brows, puzzled. But you stared back challengingly and held your ground.

A small, sheepish smile formed on his face.

“Much obliged. I can assure you your requests will be carried out with the utmost discretion.”

“Thank you.”

He brought you the heels in a shiny box, and you turned and left.

Henry was waiting outside, and you slid back into the car.

“Get what you needed, ma’am?”

“I certainly did.”

The drive home was your chance to pick up lunch, finetune your plan, and go through the suits you’d had Henry pick up from the tailor.

They looked impeccable – crisp and creaseless, the white shirts brighter than the stars, and the maroon red jackets and waistcoats deeper than blood itself. It was one of these jackets that you chose to take upstairs with you, leaving the rest to be taken up to Snow’s room later, hoping the missing item would go unnoticed.

You retraced your way up the winding stairs of the manor. Luckily, Lucille had informed you Snow had left not long after you that morning, and was expected to be gone until evening. Nonetheless, your paranoia made you glance left, right and left again before every turn. Finally, after an exhaustingly long morning, you were back in the safety of your own room.

But the work was far from finished. You ate quickly, then began getting ready for your discussion with Snow. He hadn’t sent for you again; he was too proud. You took pride in knowing he’d be positively seething at your turning him down that morning. You kept going, showering, teasing your hair, adding a little more makeup than usual – not excessive, but enough to make a difference – then finally wandered the room as you picked your wardrobe for later.

You lay out the heels – which were a little big on you, but would serve their purpose – as well as the jacket you’d stolen, taking the time to run your fingers over the smooth maroon velvet you’d felt only briefly before, when brushing against Snow at public events. You then dug through your underwear drawer, debating between a red lingerie set and a white. You picked the latter; the tones of red would blend in with the jacket and white made more of a statement.

Innocence. If only.

You checked the time. Three hours or so until Coriolanus would be expecting Veronica. You hoped that he would be back by then, and more so, that your performance with the brothel owner had been enough to hold him to his promise of sending word. But if you’d learnt anything from Snow, it was that fear commanded respect, and better yet, obedience. So your doubts were few and far between.

In all honesty, that’s what had drawn you to Snow in the first place. It wasn’t about money; your family had money, more than they knew what to do with. It was the power, the fear. Even the richest man in the world would crumble to the ground with a gun to his head. Power trumps wealth every time, and the enigmatic, newly elected President was by far the most powerful man in Panem.

It was its own kind of thrill, pursuing a man like that. The temptation to get him wrapped around your fingers, ravenous, hungry for power, hungry for him. It all blurred together at this point, the man was like a magnet. You wondered if this thirst for more, always more, was an affliction the two of you shared. Or perhaps, an affliction you’d developed a taste for because of him. And the longer you spent at his side, the louder it began to beat in your chest like a second heart. You wanted to consume it, and let it consume you.

It thrummed in your chest now, adrenaline coursing in your veins. You fidgeted as you waited for the hours to pass, your craving growing with each second. You flicked through a few books; you drafted a letter to your mother. Each tick of the clock bringing you closer to finally taking the one thing you’d wanted since the day you met Coriolanus Snow. It was almost time for your big move.

✩✩✩✩

As enough darkness crept into your room and you stood to light some candles, you heard soft footsteps pass your door.

For a change, you recognised them as Snow’s, even and deliberate. He was home. With half an hour to spare until he’d be expecting his whore.

You jumped at the opportunity to change. Slowly and carefully, you slipped out of your clothes and into the underwear set, until you were clad in crisp white lace, with a matching garter belt as a finishing touch. You slid on Snow’s jacket – which smelled like him, of his cologne – the usual fitted shape it would give Snow now hanging loose and slack around your body, falling to the tops of your thighs. You did up the first button, tracing the neckline that plunged down your chest, leaving very little to the imagination. You slipped into the heels, checked the time, and after scanning yourself over in the mirror, made for the door.

The few worries you had about being seen by the staff were short-lived; the hallway lights were dim as you wobbled in the heels, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. You weren’t sure if Snow had fallen for your plan, but what mattered was that as you turned the corner, there were lights shining from under his bedroom door. He was in there, waiting. By now, it was odd seeing it closed. You tried your best to emulate the sound of the footsteps you’d drilled into your brain, the clicks giving you a sense of power knowing Snow – apprehensive or not – would be in for at least one surprise.

Click. Click. Click.

You considered pausing before barging in, but you didn’t. When you reached the end of the hallway, seconds away from your fate, you reached out a hand, pushed Snow’s door open, and walked right inside.

Snow was there; of course he was. Facing his dresser and away from you, he didn’t flinch at the sound of your arrival. You closed the door behind you, and took a step towards him. Stared at his back, scanning his black dress pants and the white shirt he’d rolled up to his elbows, cufflinks on the table, blonde curls a little unruly as he smoothly poured himself a drink.

This, right here, was where the solid part of your plan ended. It was caution to the wind from here on out, and you could practically taste it, high off the adrenaline; off his presence. And he hadn’t even looked at you yet.

This was the moment of truth.

“Well,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “Look who finally figured it out.”

“Not who you were expecting?”

“She’d never reschedule.” he said simply, turning on his heels, eyes glinting at you. “Figured you were up to something. Drink?”

“Think I’ll pass.”

He approached you, eyes scanning your body, deliberately clad in the skimpiest underwear you owned. You figured this was as good a time as any to unbutton the jacket and let it fall open. It brushed your sides, and you watched him lower his glance, hungrily taking you in for what could quite possibly be the very first time. He wet his lips, took another sip.

There it is.

There was that power you craved, that look that you’d been aching to see in his eyes while he stared at you, and although it was fucked up, you let the pride fill your head with confidence, and stepped forward.

“Now, just where did you get that?” A slight narrowing of his eyes gave him away. At least something you’d done had made an impression.

“Borrowed it. In case I get cold.” You smiled.

“Cute. Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to take things that aren’t yours?”

“Oh, I take whatever I want, Snow.”

You raised your head in defiance. Proud of your voice for not faltering once.

“Clearly. Nice shoes. Borrow those, too?”

“Why, do they look familiar?” you quipped.

“I think we both know the answer to that, doll. Now why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

You sighed, feigning exasperation. A chill crept up your legs but you barely noticed.

“You wanted to talk to me, Coriolanus. Talk.”

“Is that really what you came here for, sweetheart? Dressed like that?” He put his drink down on the dresser, not once looking away from you.

“If this is what it takes to get your attention, Snow, then yes.”

You took another step closer, and the jacket fell further to your sides, more skin slipping out from underneath for him to feast his eyes on.

“I think you know plenty about trying to get my attention. I watched you struggle for weeks.”

“Didn’t think you cared.” You muttered.

He laughed, low, more like a scoff.

“What, your childish attempts at seduction? They were pitiful at best. I’d expect that kind of behaviour from a common whore, not a lady of your standing.”

“Thought you liked whores.” You retorted.

“They’re no fun to live with. And there you were, proving my point.”

Your eyes narrowed, and when you spoke, it was through gritted teeth.

“So what, you had to go and fuck one to prove a point? Mature.”

“Mature?” he glowered, then before you could think, he stormed towards you, grabbing both of your wrists with a hard squeeze. You gasped.

“Mature like you, with your short skirts and your fuck-me eyes, sucking your fingers off at the breakfast table?”

You squirmed. Tried to jolt yourself away but it was no use.

“I didn’t think you-”

“Oh, I noticed.” He said, moving in to corner you, grip tightening until he was walking you backwards across the room as he spoke, never once taking his eyes off you. “And it’s a real shame this couldn’t have been easier for us both, but you just had to start it. So I watched your pathetic little displays, day after day, knowing if you’d behaved better, I would’ve given you exactly what you wanted.”

You fought not to trip over yourself until your legs bumped against the ottoman at the foot of his bed and you caught your breath. His eyes bored into yours and you blinked helplessly. His grip loosened on your wrists. You tried to speak, but your mouth had gone dry.

“If you’d been good,” he continued, voice lowering, “you wouldn’t have played around like that. Good girls don’t whore themselves out to respectable men.”

Your eyes narrowed in defiance as you felt heat start to brew in your stomach.

“Respectable?” You spat, and his grip tightened again, bringing one hand up to trace your jaw, almost pitifully.

“See what I mean? You dig yourself deeper at every turn. Good girls ask nicely, and say please. It didn’t take me long to figure out you had issues with authority. It could’ve been so easy for you, sweetheart. You had plenty of chances. You could’ve asked me very nicely to fuck you, but instead you behaved like a desperate slut for weeks on end. Eventually, I knew there was only one way to shut you up.”

Your ears started to ring and you fought harder to gain composure. He’d never talked to you like this before. And now, all this, all at once, it was almost too much. Goosebumps had long covered your arms and legs, despite the heat inside you burning you up. You were vaguely aware of heat pooling uncomfortably between your legs.

Your breathing was heavy as you stared into him, his hand gripping your chin, and you couldn’t hide it if you tried. He finally backed away, letting you peel yourself from the ottoman. His hungry eyes scanned over you, suit jacket now crumpled at the wrists. You swallowed as you tried to pull yourself together.

“You knew I was watching you. The whole time. Every time. It was… for me.”

He watched you knowingly, raised his eyebrows a little. His lips grew into that smirk, that fucking smirk you knew all too well.

“We were playing the same game, sweetheart. I was just… Better.”

“A little excessive, don’t you think?” Your voice faltered and you cursed how breathy it sounded.

“Oh, on the contrary. It was very entertaining to see you struggle, but I could’ve gone further.” He mused. “I even considered fucking her on your bed.”

Shit.

A thought popped into your head, and a strange smile made its way to your face.

“Aren’t you going to ask me where I got these?” You asked, glancing down.

He frowned for a second; good. You’d thrown him off guard. But he caught up fast.

“The heels? You know, I had her walk right past your door in those so you’d follow her and see just what you were missing?”

If you weren’t so wired with adrenaline, you were pretty sure you’d be tearing up with how desperate you felt. But his words channelled it all into pure anger.

“Fuck you.” You seethed, and he smiled.

“We'll get to that. But go on, I’ll bite. What did you do to her?”

“Let’s just say she deserved much worse than what she got. Maybe you should’ve fucked her on my bed. Would’ve given me a reason to choke the life out of her.”

“You think I’d care?”

“Course not. Knowing you, it’d probably get you off.”

“Which brings us right back to now.” He stared at you, challenging. You laughed again.

“Is this you talking? You’re not very good at it.”

“No, this is me giving you a second chance. The way I see it, you made your move, I made mine. Now, if you’re a good girl, and ask me very nicely to fuck you until that pretty little head of yours gets filled with nothing but empty space, I might consider putting an end to this and giving you what you want. Maybe.” If you thought you’d survive smacking that smug look off his face, you would.

“You want me to ask nicely, Coriolanus?” You closed the gap between the two of you and glanced up at him through your lashes. He looked back at you, and no chill in the world could cool you down from the fire in his eyes.

He stepped away, paced towards the desk chair – the one he’d watched you from last night – then dragged it across the floor, spun it around, and took a seat. Once again, last night felt worlds away now. A lifetime sat between that moment and this one as he made himself comfortable, unbuttoned his collar. As if the room was now a stage, and he was the sole spectator.

“Go on. I’m waiting.”

Cocky bastard.

Another airy laugh escaped you. But you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t exactly where you wanted him. So you played into it.

“You want me to beg you? Say pretty please?” Your voice softened as you slowly stepped towards him, holding his gaze. A passing thought reminded you of your childhood, asking your mother what you’d feel when you first truly fell for someone.

Fireworks. Thousands of them, crackling, hissing, charging the air between the two of you into something heavy. Thick clouds of smoke you could almost taste as you stared into darkened eyes. You paused in front of him, fingers playing with the hem of his suit jacket that brushed against your thighs. Caught your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Take it off.” He ordered.

“Gladly.”

You slipped the jacket off your shoulders, and it fell smoothly into a pile on the floor. You kicked off the heels next, landing haphazardly to the side with a thump. His eyes never leaving you, consuming you.

“Like what you see, Snow?”

He took you in, long and hungry and shameless. Like you were simply there for his entertainment, nothing else. You wondered where along the line he’d lost all his inhibitions, at what moment in his very young life he’d decided to simply stop caring. It should scare you, but it just made you burn warmer. Maybe your wires were a little crossed, too, because it didn’t make you feel cheap.

It made you feel powerful.

You knew you looked good, too; you’d made sure of it. But he was looking at you like you were carved out of solid gold. He didn’t answer, because he didn’t need to.

“Think I like you better when you’re not acting like a dumb slut.”

You hummed, determined and unphased, moving in closer until your legs touched his knees. His words shouldn’t turn you on - nor should not knowing exactly how much he meant them – but they did.

“You like me better when I’m begging, then?” You placed your legs either side of his, straddling him, but still standing, and took his hands in yours. You ran one of them across your lips, brazenly taking a digit in your mouth, releasing it with a wet pop, then dropping your head down.

“You want me to be straightforward, Snow? Tell you exactly what I want?” you breathed, your foreheads almost touching, looking down at him from a thrilling vantage point, your hair falling either side of his face. “To beg you to rip this off me?” You guided his hands to your hips, letting them slide over the lacy fabric. “You want me to beg you to kiss every inch of skin you see and make it yours? Beg you to fuck me until I can’t think, and forget my own name?”

You ran his hands down the sides of your legs, then, inch by inch, letting him take a good long look on the way, you finally lowered yourself onto his lap. Your blown-out eyes met again, at the same level this time. You shifted your hips once, feigning getting comfortable, and hid a smile as he let out a strained sound.

You were close enough to feel his breath against yours, fast but steady, controlled. You moved closer, your head dipping cautiously under his chin to kiss his neck. He smelt clean, like fresh laundry and his cologne, and his skin tasted like salt as your tongue traced a line across it. It felt like power, having him like this. Slowly starting to grind your hips as your mouth pressed against his pulse, every shaky breath you elicited from him awakening something new in you.

“Say it, Snow.” You murmured, breath catching. “Tell me you want me to beg you, and be good for you.” Another trail of messy kisses across his jaw, and you finally heard it, ragged and coarse, words shooting through you like knives softened by the heat of his breath on your hair.

“Be a good girl, and fucking beg me.”

You hummed with satisfaction. Moved your lips to his ear, hand cupping the back of his neck, and leaned in close.

“If you wanted me to be good,” you whispered, “then you’ve picked the wrong girl.”

You felt it, his whole body tensing beneath you. But you had it now, the upper hand, and you weren’t giving it away. Your other hand came up to close over his mouth with a warning shake of the head, and you gripped the back of his neck harder with the first. Craned it backwards so he could look at you, a different kind of fire in his eyes. A fire that could burn you far worse than any other. You leaned your weight into him until you were flush, skin pressing into fabric. Tightening your legs around his so he couldn’t kick out. You felt dangerous. You felt alive.

When you spoke, your voice was a vial of vitriol.

“You thought I’d just give into you? Three weeks of torture and you call it even? No fucking way, Snow. You wanted to play? Let’s play.”

You were closer to him now than you’d ever been before, infinitely closer than when you’d held hands in front of an audience, or danced in the middle of a ballroom, or when he’d draw you in for a lingering kiss at the head of a busy table.

You were closer still because of the common denominator: you were alone, your bodies pressed together, soft and firm colliding. And your stomach ached with want, but your rage burned brighter.

When you were sure he wouldn’t move, you readjusted your position on his lap so you were sat on one thigh, your right knee pressed firmly against the chair between his legs. Slowly, you dragged your hips against it, firm muscle between your legs, shameless as you stared him down.

“I’d like to modify the terms of our agreement, as of tonight. Starting with this: I’ve made sure your little whore won’t come running back here. If I so much as hear a whisper of a rumor that you’re fucking someone else, I’m leaving. Don’t think I don’t know how to disappear. I can, and I will.”

He scowled at you, and you’d never felt power like the rush you got from seeing your hand clamped over his mouth. His own hands, now easily able to overpower you and push yours away, instead sat at your hips, digging in so hard you knew there’d be bruises for weeks. As you moved, he started to follow suit, rocking your hips on his thigh faster.

He’s allowing this.

The realisation made you pull your hand from his mouth, and yet he didn’t speak. There was a tightness in his jaw, locked down so hard it must’ve hurt as he watched you move, helped you move. It sent a shock through your core, and you ground down harder.

Who’s on top now?

This was getting to your head.

“President Snow,” you mocked. “What a title. Thinks he can take whatever’s in his sight. Thinks he has the right. Did you think I’d come crawling back to you?” Your voice lowered.

“Did you think I’d get on my knees, like she did?” You glanced down, running your now-free hand over the front of his pants, gentle at first, then pressing in firm, and he hissed.

“Did you really think, after all your little shows, that I’d just submit? Not a chance.” You spat, and his breath turned a little shaky as your hand slid up, then down.

As it evened out, and he reached for composure again, he pulled a countermove. Got in close, with words so sharp, they nearly cut through you.

“Which one was your favorite?”

You pulled your hand away. Your hold on the back of his neck tightened, and in turn, so did his grip on your hips, pulling you down harder as you got closer, panties bunching up as you became desperate.

You shook your head.

“Don’t.”

He smirked.

“I gave you plenty to go off. Tell me, was it when I sat right here while she rode me? Or when I was fucking her mouth and calling your name?”

He pulled your hips in rougher, and you gasped, barely able to think. You were sure if he kept this up, your thighs would chafe. You just couldn’t find it in you to care.

“No, I don’t think so.” He hummed. “I know which one it was. It was the second time, wasn’t it? When I was making her cum all over my tongue, wondering what you tasted like.”

You couldn’t help it – a moan slipped out of your lips. He kept up the pace, rolling your hips faster, flexing his thigh as you started losing your bearings. He laughed at the state of you.

“I knew that one would get to you. Tell me something, princess, how many times did you touch yourself after that night wishing it was me? Or did you lose count?”

You gritted your teeth, fighting the spinning room.

“Cocky much?”

He let out a breathy laugh again, as if he was losing himself as much as you were. Pulling you in harder in response.

“Look at you,” he mused, “riding my thigh like the needy slut you are. Bet you’re close, too, and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Fuck.” you panted. “Stop fucking talking, oh my god.”

“You sure about that, sweetheart? You know I can feel how wet it’s making you, right?”

Your head dropped down and you whined. Sure enough, you’d soaked through your panties and dripped an embarrassing wet patch on his dress pants. You cursed under your breath as you slowed down.

“Beg me.” He ordered.

“No.” You gasped as he pulled you back again, faster, hips bucking as your legs started to shake around his.

“Beg me,” he repeated, "or I’ll stop.”

“Fuck, no, don’t fucking stop, I can’t-”

It was so much friction it hurt, but you kept chasing it.

“Yes, you can. You want to cum? Ask nicely, sweetheart. Just ask me.”

The seam of your panties got wetter as you moved, just enough to let the pain melt into pleasure instead as it caught on your clit, and you started to ride out your high. You were right at the edge, he was keeping you there, hair stuck to your face in a hot sweat as you writhed on his lap. So fucking close.

“Fine, shit. Please. Please help me cum, oh my god. Right there, please. Fuck.”

And maybe you were more like him than you thought, because you weren’t ashamed. You rode his thigh like you’d ride him, unabashedly, while he watched you starting to fall apart. He moved faster, pulled your hips hard in as if you were riding him, as if he could feel it, breath running ragged, desperate. It only brought you closer knowing this would be sending him over the edge, holding you so near and yet so awfully far away. The look in his eyes screaming danger, and you let it swallow you whole, squeezing his shoulders like you were scared you’d float away.

"That's it. Knew you'd sound incredible, asking me all pretty like that."

His lips met your neck, teeth grazing your skin and that’s what did it, your legs squeezing his as you shook through your orgasm, crying out, falling to pieces, hearing going fuzzy. The words good girl echoing through your head so distantly, you couldn’t tell if he’d really said them or not.

You sighed, glazed eyes rolling open, coming back to yourself. Your right hand was pressed against his chest, fingers curled into the creased fabric of his shirt. As you looked closer, you noticed it had opened wider, and he was missing a button. Had you done that?

When your eyes finally met Snow’s, you couldn’t look away from them. Beautiful and blue, like an ocean frozen over, staring into yours like you were all he’d ever wanted. You could get high off this feeling, live off it.

“Get on the bed.” He breathed. “Right fucking now.”

But too much of any feeling isn’t good for you.

“No.”

He glowered, face flushing even further, and as he leaned in to make another demand, you quickly stood, trying your hardest not to let your wobbling legs give you away.

“You should understand, Snow. We’re doing things my way now. And I’m going to be doing them as I please, when I please.”

You picked his jacket up from the floor, and slipped back into it, the soft fabric cooling down your burning skin.

“You think you’re funny, sweetheart? Nobody likes a fucking tease.”

You chuckled, doing up a button and brushing your hair out of your face, damp with sweat. You walked to the dresser and took a swig from Snow’s half-empty glass, then turned. He sat there, and it took everything in you not to smirk at the mess you’d made of him. You handed him the glass when you were done drinking and turned away. You felt him stand, but you didn’t acknowledge it, still fiddling with your hair, smoothing it out.

“You said it yourself, Snow. I’m no common whore. If you want me to beg you to fuck me, you’re gonna have to work for it.” You turned, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. His face was unreadable.

“But be a doll, leave your door unlocked.” You added, stepping back. “You never know when I might change my mind.”

“You’re not going to leave. You wouldn’t dare.” He seethed, the rage in his voice only propelling you on.

“Wouldn’t I?” You smiled, giving him a once over. Dropped your eyes down pointedly, first at the ruined leg you’d ridden, then at the uncomfortable-looking tent in his pants. You met his eye again and bit your lip, really laying it on thick. “Good luck with that, sweetheart. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

He huffed, incredulous, disbelief painted across his face as you made for the door, swinging it open. You glanced over your shoulder.

“Buckle up, Snow. I’m just getting started.”

You missed the way his shocked face turned almost admiring as he watched you leave, walking barefoot down the hallway, leaving the door wide open.

Checkmate.

a/n: hope it was worth the wait 😌

taglist: @superchatnoir07 @itsrainingreid @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii @tqmqkii @not-avery @natsgf @sleepysongbirdsings @hopebaker @darknight3904 @pemberlystateofmind @bxtchopolis @real-lana-del-rey @24kmar @louweasleymalfoy @m1ndbrand @coconut-dreamz @cosmicgyral @urfavevirgoo @mk15x @theamuz @ashy-kit @violante777 @snowlandstop @badbleep88 (more tags in the comments!)

[darkmatilda]

ׂ╰┈➤ the pumpkin reaper

part 1: first day of investigation

part 2 here!

in which you and the BAU are handling the case of a murderer in a small, sleepy town

tw: decapitation, description of a crime scene etc, mention of a suicide attempt, mental illness

contents: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, solving a criminal mystery, angst, slow burn

words: 4k

“And how's school?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“It could be worse,” said Jeremy after a moment, in an indifferent tone. You sighed, wondering if, as a teenager, you also answered everything, even more serious, open questions with vague remarks, driving the person asking how you were doing to frustration.

Answering that question, no, you didn’t do that. When you were a teenager, you didn’t have anyone who cared about you. Precisely for this reason that you practically tormented your brother with phone conversations, feeling immense guilt for leaving him with your parents. The same parents with whom you ultimately decided to cut off contact. You had never faced a more difficult decision — cutting them off or continuing a relationship that tragically affected your mental health? After each interaction with them, you felt weak, defenseless, insignificant, and above all, exhausted. It wasn’t even about your mother’s illness. They were just terrible people.

Your sixteen-year-old brother didn’t have that option. He had to deal with them until he turned eighteen and moved out. You regularly made sure he was okay. However, lately, you had the impression that his voice was becoming more and more devoid of emotion. Depressed. And you couldn’t do anything about it.

Prentiss appeared right in front of you. She noticed you were on the phone, so to avoid interrupting you, she tried to convey something silently. With her thumb, she pointed toward the main deck of the jet. From the movements of her lips, you were able to read, “Hotch is calling everyone.”

“Don’t think I’m going to let this topic go,” you said again to your brother. You could imagine him rolling his green eyes. “I have to get back to work; I’ll call as soon as I have time. Don’t get into trouble and take care. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You ended the call and noticed a smile on the brunette’s face. Together, you joined the rest of the team.

“I heard part of your conversation,” she confessed. “Don’t tell me you have a kid that you’re hiding from us?”

“Who’s hiding what from whom?” Morgan chimed in as he walked in, holding two huge cups of coffee. He handed one of them to Reid.

Prentiss nodded in your direction.

“Did you know that y/n has a kid?”

You nudged her.

“I don’t have any kids. I was just talking to my brother,” you explained briefly. You didn’t like discussing your family, even with friends. In fact, you were often accused of being too secretive.

“I didn’t even know you had a brother,” Reid added, frowning. 

He, along with the rest of them, looked at you with mild surprise. You muttered something under your breath, shrugging. You felt a bit embarrassed that your family was the center of the discussion. You were saved from the awkwardness by your own boss.

“Can we start?”

JJ handed out the case files. As soon as you opened yours, you were met with an exceptionally graphic scene.

“ The bodies were discovered by someone from the forestry service, but according to the local police, anyone could have found them. It wasn’t hidden very carefully, as if someone didn’t care about it being discovered. A man and a woman, both decapitated. Before you ask, the heads were found in the same place as the rest of the bodies. Except for that, no serious injuries, just a few minor bruises and scratches. As if they were trying to defend themselves while they still could. “

No one spoke; the only sound was the turning of pages as the whole team focused intently on analyzing the photos. Your brows lowered in concentration, your entire face tense. Maybe you looked at things like this every day, but that didn’t mean it had become pleasant or that it didn’t disgust you. Sitting across from you, Reid was the first to speak.

“What do we know about the victims?”

At that same moment, as JJ spoke up again, you flipped the page and were met with two photos that looked like they’d been pulled from a social media account. Both people were alive, happy. The man was crouching next to a young boy who seemed to be pulling away, unwilling to be in the picture with his father. In the background, there was a garden, a tall white fence typical of American suburbs, and a slide. You barely stopped yourself from glancing at Hotch — he had a son around the same age, and this case might hit him particularly hard. The woman in the photo wore square glasses, with a cheerful, friendly gaze peeking out from beneath them. Round cheeks, a wide smile.

"Andrew Ward, 37 years old. He was one of the city councilors. He had a wife and one son, and he’d lived in this town his entire life. Then there's Jessica Larsen, the deputy mayor—she and her husband were both heavily involved in public life."

“A city councilor and the deputy mayor?” Prentiss repeated, thoughtfully resting her elbow on the arm of her seat. “Does anyone else feel like this could be some kind of score-settling? Revenge? Maybe from someone who was wronged by the city council over… I don’t know…”

"Higher bills," you said absentmindedly, blurting out the first thought that came to mind, immediately wincing at your own foolishness. You were still distracted by the conversation with Jeremy. You pinched your arm, trying to force yourself to focus on the case.

"Raising bills doesn’t typically drive people to murder," Reid corrected, pausing to glance at the files again. You never felt embarrassed when he pointed out your mistakes—he had a way of doing it so skillfully and politely. "Prentiss is on the right track; it could be revenge. Our UNSUB might hate authority due to some personal experience, maybe sees themselves as an anarchist, though it's hard to lean in that direction with so little information. Garcia, have you checked if the victims were connected in any way?"

The blonde woman on the laptop screen nodded.

"I’ve checked everything I could find about them, but unfortunately, I couldn’t uncover a single connection that might move the case forward."

Hotch raised a hand, stopping you from further speculation.

"That’s not all," he began, looking at each of you in turn. "Right after those two bodies were found, three more were discovered."

Morgan raised his eyebrows high.

"Five bodies? No wonder they called us in."

"And here’s where our biggest problem arises," your boss continued “Look at the photos. These three bodies were also decapitated but except for that, treated in a completely different way”

You turned the page again, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Other victims were killed with much more brutality, all covers in cuts and bruises. It was even hard to define their gender, but when you looked at the description you knew that this time, they were all women."Were two different people responsible for this?" Prentiss asked.

“Two murders cutting their victims' heads in such a small city?” spoke up Rossi, skeptically. 

"I don’t think it’s two different killers," you said hesitated, unable to look away from the photos. As you studied them, you absorbed every detail, trying to imagine the murderer inflicting these injuries. If anyone could have peered into your mind at that moment, they might have gotten serious PTSD. “Just…take a look at the wounds. There’s much more on these women and are visibly more brutal. But they look like they were inflicted by the same hand, the same person. The placement is often consistent," you noted. "How much time passed between the murders?"

“We haven’t gotten this information yet" said Hotch. "But based on my experience, I can say we’re looking at a matter of weeks."

You noticed that Reid was watching you closely. It seemed he was doing it unconsciously. When you sent him a questioning glance, he slightly blushed and immediately cleared his throat.

“I’m curious about what y/n said,” he admitted. It was clear to see the many calculations and analyses happening in his mind. This was evident in the increasing pace of his speech. “It really does look like the same person, but in different circumstances, perhaps influenced by different emotions. Maybe even with different motives. I realize the possibility of that is close to zero, but what if we’re dealing with a murderer with multiple personality disorder?”

A silence fell as everyone contemplated Reid's words. You made eye contact with him again — your tracks of thought began to overlap, your conclusions intertwining. Looking at his face, you felt, in a way, smarter and understood; it became easier to connect the fragments of ideas that had surfaced in your mind.

You shook your head.

 "No... I'm not sure. I understand what you're saying, but it seems to me that this isn't entirely true in our case. Your theory would suggest that two different personalities of our UNSUB committed these crimes, but in such cases, the crimes usually contrast more with each other. It's much harder to connect them, and here... I immediately noticed that this was the work of the same person."

Reid leaned in with interest over the table. Everyone seemed to look at you encouragingly, waiting for you to continue your theory. Yet you only took on a resigned, apologetic posture — nothing else came to mind. Any potential ideas felt too chaotic; some instincts accompanied you, but it was nothing you wanted to share out loud. You felt that they wouldn't help at all.

"We'll definitely know more after seeing the crime scene," Hotch stated, closing his files. With that, he ended the official discussion, giving you time to review the photos alone and think everything over one more time.

That’s exactly what you focused on for the rest of the meeting. You sat with one leg crossed over the other, a closed folder resting on your lap. You didn’t need to look at the photos anymore; you just needed to close your eyes and listen to your intuition. It definitely had something to say about this case. You just weren’t sure what…

Just before arriving at the scene, Hotch asked to speak with you privately. You couldn't hide it; you felt a bit anxious.

Maybe it was about your recent distraction. Of course, it was about your worry for your brother, but that shouldn’t have been an excuse; nothing should be distracting you. Or maybe he wanted to discuss something completely different, and you had just imagined this whole scenario in your mind. Knowing you and your tendency to overthink, both options seemed equally likely.

 "As I mentioned, y/n, I need to talk to you about something. It’s regarding your accommodation."

First, you breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn’t anything more serious. Then, your eyebrows raised in surprise. Accommodation?

"There have been some issues with the hotel we’re planning to stay at," Hotch continued. "We couldn’t secure separate rooms for each of you. You’ve been assigned to share a room with Reid. If that’s a problem for you, we can always look for another place, but that would mean you'd be away from the rest of the team..."

“No, it’s not a problem,” you assured him, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. You were relieved that the conversation didn’t involve any serious issues, just a trivial problem with the room. Besides, why would it bother you to share a room with Spencer? It was only for a few nights. "I was afraid you wanted to talk to me about something else," you blurted out.

“About what?” he asked suspiciously. 

“Oh, nothing,” you replied quickly and somewhat squeakily.

Hotch smiled slightly at your reaction, but his gaze seemed to analyze you closely.

 Oh you idiot, why couldn’t you just shut up? you thought to yourself as you walked away.

*

The weather decided to play a trick on you.

 As you were driving to the crime scene, the waterfall was sliding down the windshield, almost making it impossible to see anything. In any case, there wasn't much to look at. After passing the main part of the town, you were surrounded only by forest — trees shimmering in shades of orange.

The view didn’t impress you much. You definitely preferred warm, sunny weather and lounging in the sun, rather than freezing every day after stepping outside and dealing with frizzy hair from the humidity. You liked the town better. It felt small and cozy, as if it were taken straight out of Gilmore Girls.

Prentiss was behind the wheel, and you were sitting next to her in the passenger seat, while JJ was your navigator. The boys took a different car.

“So,” Emily began, turning left at the intersection with her eyes fixed on the road. “You care a lot about your brother, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, sinking deeper into your seat. Why did she have to bring this up again? It wasn't that you didn't trust them; you just didn’t like talking about your family. It wasn't even about being ashamed — why dwell on unpleasant topics? Besides, as was well known, you were private. You had to be incredibly close to someone to open up, and even then, you didn’t lay all your cards on the table.

Together with JJ, they looked at you kindly and encouragingly. You acted like you were fascinated by what was behind the glass. Soon, you arrived at the crime scene. 

That means, before you reached your destination, you had to walk quite a distance into the forest. Since it was late October, the days had grown particularly short, and you could already see the first streaks of darkness between the enormous trees that seemed to watch you with their ancient gaze.

If you hadn't had the girls with you, you would have felt a thrill on your spine. 

The location where the bodies were found had been secured very thoroughly. Local police cars gathered there, and soon the rest of your team arrived. You glanced at your muddy shoes and made a mental note to start dressing more appropriately for the weather from tomorrow on.

The rain intensified. Emily pulled her hood tighter around her head. 

“Working in these conditions...'"

Her sentence was interrupted by the appearance of an incredibly tall man, somewhat resembling a bear. Long hair protruded from under his sheriff's hat, and he seemed to be about the same age as Hotch, with whom he immediately shook hands. 

“Agent Hotchner, we're from the FBI.'"

"Sheriff Russell” he introduced himself, pressing his hand to his forehead with concern. 'I've never seen anything like this, and I've seen a lot. I can't believe anyone from this town could do something like this; I know these people and...'"

“Can we see the bodies?" you asked. It was getting dark, and you wanted to get as good a look as possible. There was something intriguing about this case that had unsettled you since the moment you first opened the file.

Without waiting for an answer, you and Emily moved toward the secured area. Despite the circumstances, the corner of her mouth twitched.

"God, I hate this chatter," she sighed in annoyance. "I know these people; they’d never do something like this," she mimicked the sheriff’s deep voice. "Neighbors of serial killers always say that. Someone can be polite in conversation and keep five bodies in their basement — it’s not mutually exclusive."

You stifled a laugh. 

"Don’t forget the how could he have done it? He always said good morning in the hallway!"

“Or about kids. Sure, he was killing small animals since he was four and had a knife collection, but deep down, he was polite! I can't believe he shot up half the school…”

Hotch appeared right next to you, so you cut her off with a firm elbow jab. You accidentally hit her in the ribs, causing her to let out a groan. This only intensified your incredibly inappropriate amusement. Your boss was standing so close, so you covered your mouth under the guise of a cough. 

In the next thirty minutes, the laughter faded away.

You began by examining the bodies of the first victims, in chronological order. These were the three brutally murdered women. The whole scene seemed to be waiting for your arrival. Not a single detail had been altered, making it easier for you to connect emotionally with the situation. Most of the profilers you knew were meticulous about keeping their feelings detached from their work. It was the only way to endure this job for more than a year without committing suicide. You applied that strategy yourself, but not entirely.

When investigating a case, you tried to imagine yourself in both the shoes of the perpetrator and the victims. Often, you would close your eyes, attempting to visualize and feel it all in vivid detail. To step away from pure theory and let intuition take over.

It was likely the reason that, for the past year since you started this work, you hadn’t imagined a day without at least one tranquilizer and a sleeping pill.

After thoroughly examining the first crime scene, you drove to inspect the next one. This time, the victims were two people connected to the city council. The previous victims had been a teacher, a former resident of the orphanage, and a social worker. When you learned this, a heavy feeling settled at the back of your mind. You were certain there was a connection between these victims.

"Let’s consider what drives the unsub to remove the victim’s head" Rossi suggested.

Before you could even define the meaning of the question, Reid rushed to answer.

"Decapitation is one of the most symbolic acts of violence. The head represents thought, intellect, and control. By removing it, the killer may be expressing a need to destroy those aspects. It could also be a form of humiliation, a metaphorical stripping of their power and authority," he explained in a slightly robotic tone, as if reciting from a Wikipedia entry.

You smiled subtly at the thought. He noticed and gave you a questioning look, which you chose to ignore.

“That would fit for the two later victims," Morgan said, resting his hands thoughtfully on his hips. "They were on the city council — the unsub might have felt he was stripping them of authority and power. But how does that apply to the others? A social worker, a teacher, and an orphanage employee?"

You fixed your gaze on your dirty shoes, Derek’s question echoing in your mind.

 What was it all about?

*

You’d forgotten your sleeping pills.

Once more, you searched your toiletries bag, where you usually kept them. Not a trace.

You pressed your lips tightly together, angry with yourself. Your sleep problems weren’t that serious — were caused mainly by overthinking and constant worry. You didn’t have the motivation to take care of yourself in that regard. It was much easier to rely on the medication, and as long as it worked. Sometimes you forgot that you were even struggling with it at all.

“Is something wrong?” Reid asked, stepping out of the bathroom. Following Hotch’s words, you were sharing a room with him. “You seem upset.”

You shook your head dismissively.

“I just forgot something.”

Only then did you look at him. He was wearing plaid pajama pants and a gray t-shirt. You realized it was the first time you’d seen him in such casual, everyday clothing. He usually wore shirts, blazers, and vests — somewhat grandpa-like, but you thought it suited him well.

You realized you had been staring at each other in silence for quite some time. To break the awkwardness, you cleared your throat and decided to return to one of the exhausting topics.

“There’s something strange about this case. You know, I’ve thought a lot about your theory regarding personality disorder, but something doesn’t sit right with me. Aside from the fact that it’s very, very rare, it’s just… my intuition doesn’t agree with it. I hope I don’t sound like a shaman. 

Spencer bursted out and sat on the edge of his bed. In your room, only the standing lamp illuminated the space, casting a dim orange light around. Despite that, you could see the thoughtful expression on his face.

“We once dealt with a case where the unsub was struggling with that very disorder. He was abused as a child and developed a separate personality, Amanda, who harmed men similar to his abuser,” he shared in a quiet, less confident tone than the one he used on the jet. He must have been tired after a long day at work, and like you, frustrated that you hadn’t found anything.

Above all, the circumstances were different. Your conversation had shifted to a more personal level, concerning two friends rather than coworkers. 

“Do you see any similarities between these two cases?” you asked, intrigued since you had never dealt with a similar case yourself.

“Not exactly,” he shook his head. “At one time, I read a lot about that disorder. There was another instance where we had an unsub who…” he trailed off, a visibly tense expression crossing his face.

“It’s okay,” you quickly reassured him. You didn’t know what was bothering him, but it was clear he regretted bringing it up at all. You had never been one to push for more; you often felt uncomfortable with certain topics, and you were incredibly grateful when someone recognized your withdrawal and changed the subject. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks” he whispered. But I think there’s something to your intuition. This whole case is exceptionally peculiar.”

““Well, you can call me a shaman now. By the way, are you planning to go to bed already?”

“And you?” he replied with a question of his own. “Actually, I’d prefer to read for a while, but I don’t want to disturb your sleep…”

Your broad smile clearly surprised him.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I wanted to spend some time with a book too”

In fact, it didn’t stem from your desires at all. You loved reading, but your brain was usually too tired for it in the evenings. However, you were aware that falling asleep would take you an unusually long time, and you preferred to make use of that time rather than stare at the ceiling.

You pulled out the only novel you had brought, Kafka on the Shore. You were about halfway through. Then you remembered you had meant to call your brother, but when you glanced at the clock, you realized that due to the time zone difference, it was already late at night for him. You sighed with a pang of guilt. You promised yourself you would do it tomorrow.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” you said when you both agreed it was finally time to go to sleep.

“Goodnight, shaman” he responded. 

You smiled in your pillow. 

part 2?

[shitposting-fox]

DANDADAN CONTENT WARNINGS

Anime (episode specific):

EP 1 - attempted SA (female), possession, non-consensual body modification, genital discussion

EP 2, 3 - Smoking, possession, genital disscussion

EP 4 - Smoking, possession, discussion of SA and murder, genital discussion

EP 5 - Smoking, bullying, genital discussion

EP 6 - genital/sexual discussions, (non-sexual) harassment and assault, vore, graphic depictions of violence

EP 7 - genital discussion, graphic depictions of violence, temporary character death, prostitution, assault, child kidnapping, suicide, death

EP 8 - Genital discussion, smoking, attempted non-consensual kissing, attempted SA, stripping, mild depictions of violence

(THESE ARE JUST PREDICTIONS)

EP 9 - genital discussion, Non-sexual nudity, graphic depictions of violence, non-fatal drowning, stripping

EP 10 - genital discussion, Non-sexual nudity, graphic depictions of violence, non-fatal drowning, public nudity, scopophobia

EP 11 - Bullying, smoking, food aggression, genital discussion, mild depictions of violence

EP 12 - Smoking, depictions of suicide

General/Upcoming from the whole manga:

- Abuse/Neglect

- Bullying

- Smoking

- Genital discussions

- Discussion of classism

- Non-sexual nudity/stripping (both male and female)

- Graphic depictions of violence

- Attempted murder

- Depictions of suicide

- repeated attempts of SA/harassment (nothing ever comes from the attempts, both male and female)

- Medical assisting equipment (severe injuries)

- Depictions of genocide

- Colonization and slavery

- Mass exploitation

- Cults and ritualistic murders

[deanscherrypie420]

🅟🅞🅚🅔🅡 🅕🅐🅒🅔

A/N: Its finally here! I know it took a while, IM SORRY. the weekend was super busy so I didn't get much writing done. If you enjoy it, please follow and like :) Xoxo! <3

Characters: Spencer Reid, Reader Y/N, Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia, David Rossi, Derek Morgan.

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Reader

Warnings: FBI, violence, descriptions of murder and assault, guns, blood, injuries, mild description of injuries, arguments, alcohol, criminal stuff, bit of angst, happy ending, sexual tension, oral fixation, praise kink, NO SMUT - IMPLIED SMUT, storyline not properly followed. (Let me know if I missed anything!)

Summary: Being a new agent on the field wasn't easy, especially because Dr.Reid was tormenting you all the time. He'd been out of prison for a year now, but you suspected that it had something to do with why he didn't like you. After confronting him, you discover a lot more than that.

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She was sitting at the round-table talking with Emily when a group of people slowly flooded in. She stood up next to Prentiss and smiled. "Everybody, this is SSA Y/L/N, she'll be joining us on our investigations as a full time agent." The woman introduced her, making Y/N smile more. She stuck out her hand and met the team, taking a specific liking to Penelope.

When she reached out to shake the last man's hand, she received only a dirty look instead. Her brows furrowed and she gave a half-amused, yet puzzled expression. "Sorry, Princess. Didn't realize you were a germophobe." She teased, pulling her chair out to sit back down.

"Didn't realize we were getting a new assistant. No offense, but you'll probably be gone within a week, Princess." The man snapped back, his hands laced together across from her. She scoffed and bit her lip, nodding slowly as she looked him up and down. This douche.

The room went silent for a moment before Garcia explained the case they were working on. Young women were being held and tortured in Sacramento, California. They were dumped in national parks and landmarks after having their throats slit. The photos were gory and she cringed, an uncomfortable expression evident on her face.

"Gross." She muttered and Reid's head popped up, "If you can't take it, that would be a shame. Maybe a different field would be ideal for you." He responded and she quirked a brow, a grin on her face.

"Trust me, I can take it. Thank you so much for your concern, but it's not necessary." She said as she stood up, collecting her file and leaving the room.

Derek whistled and laughed, rubbing the back of his head. "Well, shes a hotshot." He joked, nudging Reids arm and getting up, grabbing his file as well. Slowly, everyone made their way out, grabbing their go-bags and meeting at the jet.

Y/N was sitting next to Jennifer, Emily sitting across from her and Rossi next to Emily. They were laughing and making brief conversation, Morgan leaning against a small table next to their chairs and butting in.

Reid cleared his throat and interrupted them, "We should be discussing the case, not playing games with the newcomer." Emily's eyes widened, turning to look at him.

"We aren't playing games, we are welcoming her. If you have something to say, Spencer, please. We're all ears." Her words weren't a recommendation, they were a warning. Y/N let out a small chuckle and nodded. "Yeah, Spencey, share with the class." She cooed, and his jaw twitched.

"You're a bitch." He stated before Jennifer got up and yelled at him, pulling him into the other room. Y/N just laughed quietly and Morgan took JJ's place. "You are one interesting woman."

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"Son of a bitch!" She shouted as she tumbled to the floor, blood seeping into her shirt. Morgan and Emily ran after the Unsub, leaving Reid and her alone. She groaned as she gripped her shoulder, her head slamming down onto the concrete.

"Stop complaining." He ordered as he pulled her hand away, taking off his coat and putting an uncomfortable amount of pressure on her shoulder. "Ow! Asshole! I'm sorry, should I be celebrating the fact that I got shot?" She spat at him and he grabbed her jaw with his free hand.

"Shut up. I don't wanna hear anymore from you." She scoffed at this, shaking her head slightly. "Look, I know you have trust issues or something 'cause of prison, but don't take it out on me." Her eyes shut tight as pain pulsed through her arm, a guttural sound clawing at her throat.

He cursed, blood spilling out of her wound quicker than he anticipated. He undid her vest and removed her jacket, leaving her in a white t-shirt. He pushed the short sleeve up and tied her jacket around the crook of her arm, taking his own off and tying it around her shoulder and under her armpit.

"Gee, thanks for stripping me, Agent." Y/N hissed, tears pooling in the corner of her eyes, just like the blood pooled beneath her. He didn't respond, just kept applying pressure. He had his hands clamped around her, stopping both the entrance and exit wound from pushing out more blood.

Before she knew it, an ambulance arrived and loaded her up. Spencer insisted he stay with her on the ride, even though the team didn't think it was a good idea.

She took off her oxygen mask and glared at him, "What are you doing here. I don't like you." She choked out and he snapped his attention back to her. He grabbed her mask and shoved it back onto her face, making her cough slightly.

"Stop talking, you're hurt. We're gonna take care of you." He had a hurt look in his eyes; he looked damaged and concerned, like it was his job to keep her safe. It was such a switch from how he was acting earlier, she figured she was hallucinating because of the loss of blood.

"Take care of me?" She murmured through the mask, her head beginning to pound harder as she grew more lightheaded. He nodded slowly and carefully grasped her arm, sliding one of his hands down to enclose hers.

"Yeah, you'll be okay. I'll make sure you're okay." He promised,

"I'll take care of you."

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

She woke up in a hospital bed with Penelope by her side. Y/N smiled as she was engulfed in a hug. "Oh goodie! Thank goodness you're awake! We missed you- I missed you!" The woman exclaimed in excitement as she pulled away, standing next to Y/N with her hands on her hips.

"How long was I out for?" She asked with an amused laugh and Garcia gasped. "Only for like two days!" Y/N laughed again, wincing slightly from the pain in her shoulder. The two talked for a moment, Penelope celebrating their win.

"Wait, why are you out here? You're never on the field." Y/N questioned, but before her friend could answer, Rossi stepped into the room and cleared his throat. "Glad to see you're okay, kid." He smiled and she noticed the rest of the team quickly piling in after him.

"Oh lovely. I have fans." She teased and the group laughed quietly to themselves. The laughter was short lived, more serious expressions returning to all their faces. Y/N let out an awkward laugh and raised a brow.

"Why are you all looking at me like that?" She questioned and Emily stepped forward. "We almost lost you." Derek chimed in quickly after, walking over and squeezing her non-injured shoulder. "We're just glad you're alright." She smiled in response and then rolled her eyes dramatically.

"I'm fine alright, lets not start a sob fest. Why don't we go to Rossi's when I get out of here and celebrate." She suggested, not enjoying all the attention. The group supported the idea, all of them getting distracted by planning and talking.

Y/N noticed Reid in the corner of the room. He looked like he was zoning out, lost in thought about something. She studied him for a moment before he looked up and sneered, a distasteful look on his face. Shortly after he swiftly walked out of the room without anybody noticing.

What the hell?

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

At Rossi's house everyone was having fun. After a cooking lesson, lots of wine and liquor, and bunches of laughter, they decide to play a game of poker. Y/N excused herself before they started, making her way to the bathroom. She locked the door behind her and touched up her makeup. She ran her fingers through her hair and then fluffed it up, a small smile crossing her face.

When she opened the door to leave, she was met by Spencer. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a different room, which she quickly identified as a guest bedroom. "The fuck is your problem-?" She yelled but was quickly silenced by his hand over her mouth, his palm pressing hard onto her lips.

"We need to talk. I'm sorry I've been so rude. I was under a lot of stress and was upset with you for no reason. You didn't deserve that." He explained quickly, sounding nearly out of breath. She nodded, her hands squeezing his wrist.

His brows furrowed and his hand relaxed a little bit against her face. "Keep your voice down." He instructed before sliding his hand down. It found its place under her jaw, his fingers lightly wrapped around her throat.

"It's fine I-I guess? I'm just a little confused as to why you're telling me this now." She let out a quiet laugh, her eyes locked with his. He licked his lips and thought for a second.

"Because... Because I figured I would have to apologize first. You deserved an apology." His thumb traced the edge of her jaw as he spoke, chills sweeping over her back.

"First? What do you plan to do second?" She questioned, her breath hitching in her throat. He grinned down at her, his hand tightening slightly.

"This." He stated before leaning down and kissing her, their tongues quickly intertwining. His body pressed her flush against the wall. Her hands cupped his face and pulled him closer. His hand tightened around her neck in response, making her moan into the kiss.

He pulled away and bit his lip, both of them panting quietly. She was about to speak but he pacified her, sliding two of his fingers into her mouth. She subconsciously began to suck on them, staring up at him as her tongue slid in between his digits.

He chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead as he slid his fingers deeper. She moaned again, the sensation earning a quiet groan from Spencer.

"You're gonna go out there and have fun. Play your little game, I'll even help you if you get stuck, but..." He paused, moving his fingers deeper into her throat. She gagged and bit down on his fingers, a few tears forming around her eyes.

"I'm gonna touch you whenever the hell I want. You're gonna be a good girl for me and not let anybody know, yeah?" His tone was condescending, a fake pity-grin on his face as he watched her squirm.

She nodded and he slid his fingers out of her mouth, a string of saliva connecting them together. He licked his fingers clean and then reached under her dress, wiping his fingers dry on her panties. She whimpered and her head fell back. He leaned forward and kissed her again, this time a bit more rough.

After he pulled back he nodded to the door and she turned to leave. He gave a gentle slap to her ass as she walked out and she bit her lip to stifle a yelp. When they entered the room JJ rolled her eyes and laughed.

"Jesus, it took you forever! Spence, we're gonna play poker, I'm assuming you want to kick our asses." She said, earning a laugh from Morgan and a scoff from Emily. "Nuh uh, he can't win every time!"

Spencer just shook his head and smiled, placing his hand discreetly on the small of Y/N's back, letting her know to sit down somewhere. She sat down on the floor across from everyone at the coffee table.

"I'm just gonna help this one out. I heard she's not the best." Reid explained, purposefully trying to embarrass Y/N a bit. She bit her lip and exhaled, not wanting to cause a scene. "Yeah, yeah. Just get over here and help me." She bickered as she pulled a blanket off the couch, covering her legs with it.

"Oh, I will."

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A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed! Sorry it took a few days. This was super fun to write, even though it is a bit rushed... If you enjoyed please feel free to follow, reblog and comment! Kind comments are always appreciated <3

More criminal minds fics are coming!

xoxo

[undertheorangetree]

The Last of the Dragons

Chapter Four- Cooperation

Summary- Cregan Stark has a proposition and Aemond struggles with the lord’s arrival.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Incest. Grief. Talks of treason. Angst cuz I literally can’t stop. Semi public sex. Also private sex. There's a lot of sex. Mild breeding kink. Praise kink. Jizz?? Dry humping. Discussion of dead babies and children. And Alys cuz apparently she needs her own warning now. Cockwarming.

Author’s Note- sorry this took longer than usual it’s end of semester and I am a shell of my former self lmao. Anyway this is once again debatably too long (10.2k) and the full chapter is linked below as usual :)

series masterlist

It takes a few more days than she had hoped before she is able to speak with Cregan Stark. It seems as though the council had been saving the true work for after the coronation and now they refuse to allow a day to pass without attempting to fix one issue or another. She learns very quickly that even with a council to do the heavy lifting, Aegon had done next to nothing in his six months on the throne, the realm still in shambles from the civil war that has destroyed it.

The Riverlands burnt and all but decimated due to Aemond and Vhagar. The Ironborn raiding every village, port, and town they can reach despite more than one letter arriving in Pyke demanding an end to it. All the great houses still at odds over their differing allegiances. Cregan Stark still thirsty for blood in order to avenge her mother and fulfill his promise to his men. King’s Landing only repaired with half measures after the revolt in the city and less than a quarter of the repairs underway. The list seemed never ending and by the end of each day, she finds a headache sitting heavy behind her eyes, so deep she can’t even attempt to massage the pain away.

To his credit, Aemond takes it upon himself to begin rebuilding the Riverlands himself, taking the initiative to lead the restoration. She has Corlys send word to Alyn Velaryon and command him to sail to Pyke with some of Velaryon fleet with the hopes that conversation and some bribing will be enough to stop Dalton Greyjoy from his raids. Lord Tyland informs them of just how much of the crown’s coffers he had spirited away and begins rationing what can be spared to begin repairing the city. Lord Larys assures them that the hunt for Aegon’s murderer is still well underway, though he has little to show for it.

It is Cregan Stark that is left to her. Handsome, bloodthirsty Cregan Stark. Where he had cast a glare upon almost everyone when he had arrived for the coronation, he had smiled at her, had been friendly and chivalrous. Though Aemond had vehemently disagreed, the council had all but unanimously decided that she was to charm him and turn him toward peace or, barring that, some acceptance of who was now ruling. She does not mind the task, already having planned to speak to the man and not prepared to be usurped less than sennight on the throne, so she agrees and leaves the council chamber with Aemond staring daggers into her back.

She is even more glad for the task as she sits on a bench in the gardens, eyes closed and face tilted up toward the sun as she waits for Lord Stark’s arrival. It feels as though it has been an age since she had the chance to simply be and in this moment, the sun warm and the air sweet with the smell of flowers, she feels completely and totally at peace. It is a strange feeling to have when worry and panic have been all she seemed capable of feeling as of late, but she will take it as it comes. She would rather feel this than the latter and she plans to enjoy it for as long as she is able.

A throat clears and she opens her eyes to see Cregan Stark standing before her, a servant at his side. The girl bows her head to them both before scurrying off as quick as she came and she stands from the bench with a smile.

“Lord Stark. I apologize for the delay in finally being able to speak to one another. My council seems content to work me like an ox now that everything has become more official but I insisted they release me so that I may fulfill my promise to you.”

He smiles as he offers her his arm. “I am honoured you were able to find the time at all, your grace. I know the early days in a new role can be exhausting.”

She mimics his smile gratefully as she takes his arm, allowing him to begin leading her through the gardens. They have not received the attention they deserved as of late- the shrubbery and bushes beginning to grow a bit wild, the flowers untrimmed- but she finds she likes it this way. Being so far into spring, everything is in bloom and beautiful even if they have not been well tended to, the green brilliant and dotted with red, yellow, purple, and white. She allows the silence to fall between them for a moment as she admires it all, feeling as though it has been too long since she has been allowed to enjoy something so simplistically pretty. Whenever she is given a gown or a piece of jewelry, she cannot help but feel as though it is a piece in this great game she never asked to play. The flowers, though, nature, they do not suffer the same fate.

Eventually, she knows she cannot allow for the silence to reign much longer and turns her head to look at the young lord. “My brother told me much about you in his letters. I feel as though you and I are already acquainted.”

Read the rest here :)

Taglist- @ammo23 @bellstwd @kckt88 @aemondsbabygirl @shygardengalaxy @duds31 @at-a-rax-ia @ladymarg0t @queenofshinigamis @drakar-i @cl-0-vr @castellomargot @moonlightfoxx @ladybug0095 @marihoneywk @the-common-cowgirl @darylandbethfanforever9 @bunny24sstuff @helaenaluvr @toodlesxcuddles @eternally-passionate @herfantasyworldd @ashovertheriver @hypocritic-trash-baby @heavenly1927 @bunbunbl0gs @divxnee @seabasscevans

[youremyheaven]

The Ugliness of Venus

every planet is associated with certain key themes but being under that planetary influence means to experience its very opposite. the extremes of anything is a meeting point for its opposite.

venus is the planet associated with love, beauty, harmony etc therefore it is unsurprising that venusian influence also subjects one to cruelty, ugliness, disharmony, violence and malevolence.

TW: this post will contain mentions of sexual harassment, rape, violence, murder, massacre, genocide, death, suicide among other things so please beware!!!

in my observations I have often found that Venusian natives are often cruel, callous, ugly (i mean this to refer to their actions/behaviour and not just unconventional appearance because "beauty" is a sum of appearance and traits- what we call Venusian refinement) hurtful, jealous and utterly lacking the charisma and hospitality for which Venus is known.

it is disturbing to think of how soooo many well known and notorious sex offenders have HEAVY Venusian influence in their charts. think of any celebrity who has had a sex scandal and they usually have Venusian placements. it's intriguing that no other planet shows up as much (in my personal observations).

Why is Venus so brutal, cruel and embracing of the darkness/ugliness of humanity?

All 3 Venus nakshatras, Bharani, Purvaphalguni & Purvashada are Ugra (meaning cruel or brutal, this is a 7 category classification in vedic astrology) nakshatras.

Ugra naks are known to be action-oriented go-getters and people who are very self-motivated and determined. Any quality can manifest in good or bad ways, so the shadow aspect of this determination and motivation is often ruthlessness, callousness, selfishness and arrogance.

This is also the reason why Venusian naks suffer. Venus seeks refinement, so an individual who does not filter out their own darkness but instead indulges in it, is inviting wrath. More than any other planet, Venus punishes its natives quite harshly and publicly. So many people who have been known to be horrible people, have been exposed, shamed and punished publicly have Venus influence.

Venus energy must be handled with care. Since Venus is love, it has a quality where it loves blindly, completely and without judgement but discretion and judgement are necessary in life. It is not good to be absolutely consumed by someone or something without considering the good and evil inherent in it. This makes Venus natives prone to evil simply because they don't see it as such. They think of it as the depths of their understanding of love, beauty and harmony. Beauty in its extreme however is grotesque, its ugliness, its frightening. Think of all those IG models who have the same face, there is a blandness to their cartoonish perfection to their proportions, it fails to evoke feeling, it fails to be memorable because true beauty is distinct and flawed, its intensity, depth and exaggerated proportions because Venus is not mild or lukewarm, it like to go overboard. Think of Angelina Jolie, her big forehead, large cheekbones, strong jaw, big protruding eyes, its a face that calls attention to itself, its not simple or readily accessible, its the opposite of the IG face where beauty is reduced to ordinary everyday blandness. True beauty is individuality.

Venusian natives are often preoccupied with good and evil, the holy and demonic, heaven and hell, this emanates from a deep understanding of contradictions and the need for their existence. Opposites are an illusion, everything is one. Goodness in its extreme is evil and the extremes of evil touches upon goodness.

So now I'll discuss certain specific examples:

Mao Zedong- Purvashada Rising

He was responsible for the deaths of close to 40 million people who died due to starvation, forced labour and others executed by the state due to their opposition of its policies.

Saddam Hussein- Bharani Sun, Venus in Revati (exalted)

Him and his party used violence, killing, torture, execution, arbitrary arrest, unlawful detention, enforced disappearance, and various forms of repression to control the population. Kurdish people were systematically persecuted and massacred using tear gas.

Hussein was publicly executed for committing crimes against humanity.

Hitler- Purvashada stellium (Moon, Jupiter and Ketu), Mercury and Venus in Bharani

I need not elaborate on who Hitler was and what he did bc we're all very familiar with him but yeah he was a Venusian. He died by suicide.

Stalin- Purvashada Mercury Amatyakaraka

I do not wish to elaborate on Soviet war crimes but Stalin had millions of people die, from starvation, torture, indentured labour etc

R Kelly- Purvashada Sun & Mercury

He is a pedophile and convicted sex offender

Marilyn Manson- Purvashada Sun

He's been accused of assault and rape on more than one occasion.

Idi Amin- Purvashada Sun

Idi Amin was popularly known as "The Butcher of Uganda." Amin overthrew an elected government in Uganda with a military coup, using lessons from the British colonial army. He declared himself president and ruled ruthlessly from 1971-1979. Once in power, Amin started mass executions of the Acholi and Lango tribes. In 1972 Amin forced 80,000 Asians to leave the country, which caused the economic collapse of the country since many were business owners. It’s estimated that through his rule, Amin killed at least 300,000 civilians.

Elon Musk- Purvaphalguni Moon

Sexual misconduct charges, labour law violations, treating his employees like trash and being an insufferable asshole on Twitter among other things. Nobody makes $100 billion without exploiting 100s of millions of people.

Jimmy Saville- Purvaphalguni Moon, Mars in Bharani amatyakaraka and Ketu in Purvashada

He was a pedophile who abused numerous children over the span of 50yrs

Peter Townshend- Purvaphalguni Jupiter & Rising, Ketu in Purvashada

He was found trying to access child porn sites

Chris Brown- Bharani Sun & Moon

He's abused several women, most famously, Rihanna

Here's some examples of people who have risen to prominence by playing ruthless people.

Kathy Bates- Mars in Purvaphalguni amatyakaraka

She is best remembered for playing the psychotic nurse in Misery

Anthony Hopkins- Purvashada Sun

He is best known for playing serial killer Hannibal Lecter in Silence of the Lambs

I know this is a very polarising topic and to any Venusians reading this, I sincerely do not wish to spread hate or cause harm, I am only trying to point out some of the things I have noticed. Does this mean every other Venusian you encounter is a serial killer in disguise? No Are all Venusians bad people? Also no. I thought it would be interesting to shed some light on the darker side of Venus which is seldom addressed if at all. Please do not take any of these observations too seriously and do not use astrology as a tool to propagate hatred towards yourself or others.

[wangxianficfinder]

I'm in the mood for...

Aug 13th

~*~

1. Any wangxian fanfics with straight wei wuxian having a sexuality crisis over lan wangji?

ao3 has been erroring out for me when I try to get to my bookmarks , maybe because I have so many? but for #1 , there is a tag "straight boy wei ying" /"Wei wuxian in denial about sexuality" that will give great fics. when I can get to my bookmarks I'll add my faves

show me how you do that trick by ilip13 (E, 70k, WangXian, Modern Setting Porn with Feelings, The Porn Is the Plot, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, straight boy wwx, with an aspec twist, Sexuality Crisis, Voyeurism, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Masturbation, Anal Sex, Switching, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, Slow Burn, Except for the sex that part is on fire soooo fast, sexuality realization, Feelings Realization, Happy Ending)

The Cause Of This Fair Gift In Me Is Wanting by Alliandra (E, 47k, WangXian, LQY/QS, Modern AU, High School, College/University, Time Skips, Slow Burn, Pining, LWJ POV, LWJ Fucks, WWX dates, "Straight Boy" WWX, Homophobia, Non-Graphic Violence, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Reference, d Suicide, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Overstimulation, Light Bondage, Blow Jobs, Masturbation, Getting Together, Ableist Language, WWX Has ADHD, Autistic LWJ, Queer Themes)

I search myself (I want you to find me) by ilip13 (E, 22k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff and Smut, The Porn Is the Plot, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Self-Discovery, Adolescent Sexuality, Slight Gender Feels, Masturbation, Fantasizing, Voyeurism, (sort of), Exhibitionism, (also sort of), Lingerie, Explicit Het Content)

~*~

2. Hi! Do you have any fic recs for fic where wwx come back as someone else other than mxy? I remember seeing one where he ends up as Qin Su @fysmiin

You still sound like a song by Moominmammashandbag (M, 64k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Ghost!WWX, Mystery, LWJ plays inquiry, AU from after the Wens came to Lotus Pier, Most people lived, not everybody died, Angst with a Happy Ending, river spirit!WWX, Angst and Feels, description of murder, imminent smut, Execution, Dogs, Poisons, Discussion of Attempted Murder, BAMF WWX, Family Feels)

To Deserve So Much More by renysen (T, 19k, wangxian, getting together, one big happy family, no angst, getting engaged, family feels, female bodied WWX) ofc summons wwx to defend her family's besieged manor.

🔒Femme Fatale by coffeepie (E, 76k, WIP, WWX/WC, WWX/WRH, WWX/WZL, WWX/JGS, Porn, Smut, Possession, Crack Treated Seriously, Humor, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Penis In Vagina Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Aphrodisiacs, Rough Sex, Minor WangXian, Canon Divergence, Oral Sex, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Strangulation, Object Insertion, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Blood and Injury, Somnophilia, Belly Bulge) WIP. wwx wakes up in wlj's body before the sunshot campaign. cw lots of sex with wc.

the problem with authority by isabilightwood (M, 139k, wangxian, qingli, Canon Divergence, Sacrifice Summon, slightly dark!JYL, wq lives because i said so, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chronic Pain, Mild Sexual Content, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, manipulative relationship (background xiyao)) qs summoning jyl-centric but includes someone else summoning wwx as well

patching the road with vague intentions by loosingletters (T, 39k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Humor, Developing Friendships, WWX Resurrected By Others, Trans WWX, Case Fic, POV WWX, POV LQR, Family, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, MXY Lives) WIP. ofc lwj was arranged to marry after wwx's death summons wwx. lwj hasn't appeared yet.

The Housewife's Guide to Causing Chaos by dvasva (M, 127k, WIP, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Functionally Trans Character, Mild Sexual Content, Domestic Fluff, Love Confessions, Transphobia, Good Parents LWJ and WWX, Pining, WWX is a Tease, Grief/Mourning, Body Dysphoria, Fake Marriage, Canonical Character Death, Misunderstandings, Doting LWJ, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, WWX is not in MXY's body, Misgendering, Mild Angst, Assumptions, Comedic Elements, non-sexual nudity, Blood, Discussion of Various Bodily Functions, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, 4 years of mourning instead of 13, Méishān Yú Sect, POV Multiple, Corporal Punishment, Trans WWX, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, pregnancy mention, Timeline What Timeline, Sexual Harassment Threats) WIP. ofc lwj was arranged to marry after wwx's death summons wwx. wangxian starts early.

Friends, Sabers, and Other Essentials for Solving a Conspiracy by MeridianGrimm (T, 50k, NHS & WWX, LWJ & NHS, WangXian, Humor, Friendship, Love, Mystery, Canon Divergence, Smart NHS, WWX doesn't stay dead, LWJ gets a new friend, Happy Ending, Fix-It, To be clear the WangXian is mostly background, This fic is about friendship) NHS does a modified summoning

Karma's a Bitch (It's Me, I'm The Bitch) by loosingletters (T, 8k, SS & OC, WWX & OC, Minor Character Death, Canon Divergence, Suicidal Thoughts, Resurrection, Moling Su Sect, Cultivation Sect Politics, Body Dysphoria, WWX is NOT in MXY's Body, Unreliable Narrator, Assassination) Su sect oc summons wwx.

❤️ Beauty and the Boot by PTchan (T, 44k, wangxian, summoned by f!oc, Canon Divergence, Romantic Comedy, Genderbending, Denial, Fem!WWX, WangXian kids, Crack-ish, WIP) seemingly-abandoned WIP. OFC summons wwx.

So You Want to Start a War by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 41k, WIP, MY/QS, MY/WWX, WangXian, Reincarnation, Half-Sibling Incest Mention!, QS does the ritual instead of MXY, WWX as a woman, MY Is His Own Warning, Canon Divergence, Impersonation, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Please check the notes before reading a chapter, Timeline What Timeline, WWX Has PTSD) WIP. qs summons wwx.

sweet hay and the flowers rising by Shializaro (T, 4k, WangXian, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mentions of Violence, Alcohol, Humor) qs summons wwx.

Crowded by nirejseki (G, 1k, NHS & WWX, wangxian, LWJ/NHS/WWX, canon divergence, different body offering ritual, atypical relationship dynamics, sentient sabers) NHS does a modified summoning (short fic)

❤️ The Book’s Cover by Eudoxia (E, 50k, wangxian, canon divergence, WWX not in MXY’s body, canon retelling, humor, demisexual LWJ, genderqueer WWX, smut) OFC summons WWX. this is probably my favorite one of all these.

Everyanything by deliciousblizzardshark, lingeringdust (E, 46k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Franken-canon, Gender Identity, Gender Dysphoria, Trans WWX, Protective LWJ, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Canon-Typical Misogyny, Fluff and Angst, Vaginal Sex, Canon-Typical Major Character Death) Qin Su summons WWX.

Chapter 1-23 of The Tales of Despereaux by stiltonbasket (T, 36k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, (when applicable)) Chapters 1-23 are "What if Qin Su summoned Wei Wuxian?" A prologue is linked in the author's note.

Wei Wuxian keeps / gets his OG body / Resurrected by someone other than MXY Comp

Five People Who Never Summoned Wei Wuxian by EHyde (G, 3k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, 5+1 Things, Angst, [Podfic] Five People Who Never Summoned Wei Wuxian by sisi_rambles)

~*~

3. Hey! I have only once asked for a fic before but this is for a Itmf , can you recommend any dark lwj fic? Not just after wwx’s death but lwj protecting wwx or joining him in demonic cultivation, even better if wwx runs yiling wei sect^-^

A Matter of Time series by mrcformoso (E, 84k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, graphic depictions of violence, underage, LWJ pov, JC pov, dark LWJ, manipulation, grooming, teen body adult mind for LWJ, happy ending for wangxian, problematic consensual underage sex, blood & violence, insane LWJ, manic LWJ)

🔒 Flawed and Free by Vrishchika (E, 18k, wangxian, major character death, time travel fix-it, dark LWJ, dark LXC, dark gusu lan, temporary character death, not JC friendly, angst, hurt/comfort, WIP)

🔒 At heart by apathyinreverie (M, 36k, WangXian, WIP, Dark LWJ(Ish), Amnesia, WWX gets to be Not Okay after the BM, Hurt WWX, Recovery, Caring, Protective LWJ, Possessive LWJ, some definite manipulation, but not everything is as it seems, not nearly as dark as the tags make it sound, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Revea, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, kind of, Domestic WangXian, Fluff, WWX Goes to Gusu, Possessive WWX, WWX happily atticwifing away, Sunshot Campaign, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ)

Until The World Embraces Me Home by azri (T, 5k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ LWJ, LWJ Has No Golden Core, Role Reversal, Not LXC Friendly, Not JC Friendly, Not cultivation world friendly overall tbh, Sunshot Campaign, Friends to Lovers, Temporary Character Death, WangXian Get a Happy Ending)

Corrupted Core by The_Gourmet_Gamer (M, 16k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Grief/Mourning, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Sad with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-First Siege of the Burial Mounds)

~*~

4. Hello 👋

I'm in the mood for Twitter wangxian fic threads,i don't mind it if it's modern or not, but I don't like bottomji or switch wangxian

You might enjoy our Twitter comp

~*~

5. Hello! Thanks for your work. Are there any Wangxian fics set at the Olympics? @chalionkat (previous ask moved to FF - mod C)

Our Sports AU Compilation has a Olympics au section you can check out 😊

and so my heart beats wildly by lily_winterwood (E, 106k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, Modern Cultivation, Rivalry, Competition, Competition-Set Fic, Athletes, Multimedia, Miscommunication, frenemies to lovers, Rivals to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Seemingly One-sided But Actually Mutual Pining, Oblivious WWX, Competitive Cultivation, Anal Sex, First Time, Angst with a Happy Ending, Olympics, Inappropriate use of an Olympic gold medal, Breathplay, Rough Sex, Food Porn, Tanabata, Lily’s back on her Qixi bullshit, Switching, Bottom LWJ) this has cultivation Olympics

🔒 Dance Me to the End by venagrey (E, 35k, WangXian, Modern, Skating, 2021-2022 Figure Skating Season, No Pandemic, teammates to friends to lovers, Eventual Smut, mixed signals: on ice, Oblivious WWX, Bisexual WWX, mortifying ordeal of being known, slightly nonlinear timeline, Unreliable Narrator, gratuitous descriptions of skating, first time nudes, Accidental Phone Sex, WWX is Very Flexible, YOI homage, not actually a crossover, IRL skating homage, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a little gnc for added zest, inappropriate use of medals, Rimming, Winter Olympics)

~*~

6. Hi! This is for ITMF where WWX is a king maker/advisor/spy master or something like Foot on the brakes, screaming there's a red light by Lookingkindofdumb or Copying Scriptures by chiyukimei

Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

🔒 Half Agony, Half Hope by queenklu (T, 105k, WangXian, LXC/JGY, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, LXC/NMJ, Jane Austen Fusion, persuasion au, Pining, Broken Engagement, Secrets, Espionage, Child Injury, Terrible Parents (YZY & JFM), Past Child Neglect) maybe? Wei Ying was a spy during the war.

~*~

7. Hello!!. i need need need to know if theres any more fics like A Street Kid Named Wuxian where wwx isnt adopted by any sect and just grows up on the strrets/ poor or an orphan @yesibest

A Thousand Things by tickertape (M, 108k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiāngs, Developing Friendships, lots of OCs, miscommunication and misunderstandings (they’re idiots your honor), Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Slow Burn) fits but Wei Ying lived in Yiling until he's around 17 and then gets invited to train with the Lans for a year. It doesn't go into a lot detail about his life on the streets but he is poor throughout his childhood and into his teens.

Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending) link in #14 Not sure if this fits as while WWX does grow up on the streets without being adopted into a sect, it's down to time travel, with his soul being sent back to his child body, so he has knowledge of the future & cultivation, so he gets to cheat a little & be more than a normal street kid

~*~

8. Hello, I was wondering if you and the lovely community could help me find selkie-style creature fics? In myth, a selkie is a seal creature who can shed its fur and walk on land as a human. Whoever holds the fur has control over the selkie because they cannot transform back without it. So I am looking for similar themes in WangXian fics! I just read Burn It All Down by nekojita which suggested this would happen with Jiang Cheng holding one of Wei Wuxian’s dragon scales, but the wip hasn’t been updated to finish that portion of the story! So I come to you, looking for more “I control you as long as I hold this part of you captive” stories. Thank you for any recs you can suggest! <3

never love an anchor by tardigradeschool (T, 31k, WangXian, Selkies, No Powers, Historical, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Pining, Angst, Happy Ending, The Inherent Eroticism of the Sea, PTSD, Presumed Dead, Drowning)

💙 this river runs to you by sundiscus (T, 53k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mutual Pining, Dragons, Literal Sleeping Together, Tender wound tending) this might work? It has Dragon!LWJ whose dragon is missing. While no one actually uses it to control him in the story, the possibility that someone could is a major driver of the plot.

Lanterns To Guide You Home by cuttlefeeeeeeeeesh (T, 7k, WangXian, Mutual Pining, Mythology, Selkie AU, Fisherman LWJ, Selkie WWX, Sorta Established Relationship, Fluff, Soft (tm)) might like Lanterns to Guide You Home? It's a bit of a twist on the selkie trope, being less about captivity and more about wangxian reuniting/mutually pining years after being married, but I think it would still appeal to a reader who likes selkie stories. And it's a lovely fic!

~*~

9. Hi! For the ITMF, I was wondering if there are any fics where WWX knows a bit more about MXY when he wakes up in his body? By viewing MXYs memories maybe, or something like that? Just, I want him to be able to act like MXY better and understand his situation better. Is there anything like that? Thanks in advance! @hikato-chan

~*~

10. Hi! This is for ITMF. Is there a fic where WWX tells JYL (or someone else really) that he trust LWJ but not his clan/sect? Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

~*~

11. ITMF a fic that takes place during the Cloud Recesses study arc, in the scene where WWX gets LWJ drunk. Something goes different: a kiss? A love confession? A fist fight? @luliaka

Cartwheels In Cloud Recesses Series by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 23k, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, CSSR and WCZ Live, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans)

You Are My Euphoria by orphan_account (M, 17k, wangxian, canon divergence, fluff, making out, 5+1, pining)

it’s just (aah) a little crush (crush!) by sweetlolixo (T, 9k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Romance, Fluff, Pining LWJ, Humor, Courting Rituals, Teen Wangxian)

~*~

12. itmf some concubine wwx, following canon as mich as possible? something along the lines of the concubine mo series by enigmatree

~*~

13. Itmf:

A) some wwx realizing that he's been abused as a child (for example: Madame Yu) and having to accept that actually the adults in his life kind of suck (no Jiang Yanli bashing pls ♡)

B) wwx being raped and his recovery

Thank you 💕

13A)

🔒💙 Holding shreds by barisan (T, 5k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, No Sunshot Campaign, Body Swap, Not for sexy shenanigans, Chronic Pain, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abusive YZY, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, POV WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jiāng Family Bashing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Getting Together, Smart WWX)

🔒 in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, Cloud Recesses, LWJ & NHS Friendship, Developing Relationship, POV LWJ, Minor Injuries, Autistic LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aka the Madam Yu warning, Genius WWX, Light Angst And Hurt/Comfort, WWX Protection Squad, Gusu Lan Sect, Slow Burn, Protective LWJ, LWJ-centric)

🔒 Warming up (to him) by barisan (T, 9k, LQR & WWX, WangXian, Hypothermia, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Temporary Character Death, Medical Inaccuracies, YZY Abuses WWX, JFM Bashing, pre-wangxian, Good Uncle LQR, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort)

so i cut the shackles and changed my name by MichelleFeather (T, 9k, WangXian, LQR & LWJ, LQR & CSSR, LQR & WWX, CSSR/WCZ, WWX & The Lan Clan, WIP, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, WWX is a Lan, Good Uncle LQR, Supportive LQR, Protective LQR, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, JFM & YZY Bashing, Jiang Family Bashing, Abusive Jiang Family, Running Away, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Hurt WWX, Genius WWX, No Sunshot Campaign, Gusu Lan Sect Rules, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cultivation Sect Politics, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Canon Divergence, Protective Gusu Lan Sect, WRH isn't a power hungry tyrant, mostly)

Just go forward like you mean it by tawaen (M, 101k, WangXian, WWX & WN &WQ, WWX & JYL, NHS & WWX, Canon Divergence, WWx does not attend the Wen indoctrination, WWX saves Lotus Pier, Inventor WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, Sect Leader JYL, JC Has No Golden Core, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Not JC Friendly, but he gets a happier ending than canon so don't look here for bashing) WWX gets frustrated with how unconcerned JFM is regarding the Wens & ends up leaving. Features sect leader JYL

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious) WWX realises he's been poorly treated by the Jiangs & defects. However it could be seen as JYL bashing depending on how you define bashing. She does ignore her family's treatment of WWX & later tries to stop his wedding to LWJ, but she's portrayed as meaning well & just wanting to avoid conflict, & believing she is saving him from a forced marriage. Up to you whether that counts as bashing

13B)

🧡 Heaven Has No Rage by flipfloppandas (M, 51k, WWX & YZY, JFM/YZY,  implied wangxian, WWX/WC, WWX/others, rape/non-con, modern, hurt/comfort, protective YZY, good parent YZY, hospitals, medical procedures, vomiting, trauma) focuses more on the immediate aftermath Wei Ying being raped but does touch on the beginnings of his recovery.

feast and famine by luckymarrow (E, 49k, wangxian, rape/non-con, aftermath of gang rape, modern au, trauma, PTSD, medical procedures, rape recovery, non-consensual drug use, hurt/comfort, angst w/ happy ending, mind all the tags) Rape/recovery and the ripples across the friend group. JYL is the glue that holds everyone together. It's a gut-wrenching, amazeballs fic.

~*~

14. Hii, I'm itmf some good coming of age fanfics!

🔒 Flowers Blooming by Ilona22 (M, 35k, WangXian, Adoption, Prostitution, Family Fluff, Family Drama, Growing Up)

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 128k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, musical cultivation, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, Happy Ending, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Worldbuilding, Módào Zǔshī & The Untamed Combination, No Yīn Iron, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Artist WWX, Musician WWX, Bad Parent JFM, Bad Parent YZY, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Parent-Child Relationship, Angry WWX, Angst, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Idiots in Love)

Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending)

🔒 Life is Like a Stranger by through_shadows_falling (T, 69k, wangxian, Kid Fic, Child LWJ, Child WWX, First Meetings, Canon Divergence, Cute Kids, Orphan WWX, Autism Spectrum, Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Canon, POV LWJ, Growing Up Together, WWX raised at Cloud Recesses, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Puberty, Growing Up, Coming Out, teenage angst, Wet Dream, Pining, This fic gets a little raunchier as the kids become teens, But it won’t get too explicit, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Spanish Translation, Brief mentions/moments of WWX kissing others in chapter 22 but only on the cheek, also characters kiss WWX on the cheek in chapter 23, but his real first kiss is with LWJ, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian)

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15. Hey!!

So i was wondering if there are any fics where wangxian have a cute little couple’s argument..they make up in the end obv, i don’t really prefer heavy angst. Just a normal couple’s argument. @honestlyewww

tipping point by cherrywhiskey (M, 13k, WangXian, Established Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Married Couple, Married Life, Bickering, Idiots in Love, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Fights, Arguing, Making Up, Angry Kissing, Making Out, Modern AU, POV Alternating, Fighting)

you became my husband when i first laid my eyes on you by bunnylan (weiyingpretty) (G, 2k, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern Era, Fluff, Boyfriends, Cute, Tik Tok Challenge, Husbands, Established Relationship)

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16. IMTF wangxian or any one of the two as (a) lawyers (b) teachers trying to hide their relationship from students (c) scientists (biologist, physicist, etc.) any kind

Thank you <3

16A)

🔒 a thousand fragile and unprovable things by theLoyalRoyalGuard (G, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Trans Male Character, Trans MXY, MXY Deserves Happiness, Best Dads Wangxian, Handwaving The Legal System With The Power of LWJ, A little bit of angst, mostly soft, Happy Ending, Gender Happiness, Let LWJ Wear Skirts Agenda, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note) Lan Wangji is a lawyer

Close to the Truth by Winglesss (M, 14k, WangXian, Modern AU, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, Romantic Comedy, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Tooth-Rotting Fluff) Lan Wangji is a lawyer

Scapegoat by Anonymous (E, 216k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Trials, Lawyer LWJ, Defendant WWX, Courtroom Drama, False Accusations, Criminal Investigation, Threats of Violence, Hurt WWX, Protective LWJ, Childhood Trauma, Murder Mystery, Pining, Soft WangXian, Slow Burn, Domestic Bliss, Happy Ending, Found Family, Bad Parent YZY, neutral jc, Good Sibling JYL, neutral lxc, Bad Uncle LQR, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, POV Alternating, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Pining while fucking, Belly Bulge, Gentle Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Neck Kissing, Eventual Smut, porn in chapter 15, Praise Kink, Homophobia, chapter specific TWs will be in top notes, Power Play, Power Imbalance, Wet Dream)

16C)

🔒 at first sight of the sun by sunflowersfield (T, 3k, WangXian, Modern, Coworkers, Fluff, Neurodiversity, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Happy Ending, First Dates, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort) Lan Wangji is a researcher at a forest preserve in at first sight of the sun

A Cyborg’s Three Laws by @joshua-beeking, FairyGardenCorgis (M, 194k, WangXian, Future, Cyborgs, Science Fiction, Science Boyfriends, Romance, Slow Burn, Medical Procedures, Surgery, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, LWJ has RA, Idiot Friends to Idiot Lovers, Medical Assault, Dehumanization, obscene amounts of cuddling, Versatile wangxian)

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17. Hi! I meant to ask this, but I think I haven't yet (it would already be posted otherwise). For the ITMF, are there any fics where WWX, post canon, gets transported timewise into the 13/16 years he was dead? Preferably only for a bit until he figures out how to get back, and while hiding his identity. Thanks for the help! @hikato-chan

Less Than Two Years by wenqing (maniafic) (T, 5k, WangXian, Time Travel, Post-Canon, but also canon divergent, in an alternate universe though, Minor Angst, mostly wwx confusing the kids)

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[whiskeyghoul]

Pt.3 || She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid x Goth!reader]

Read pt1 here, previous chapter, next chapter.

A/N: Hello hello, we are finally to the unofficial first date hehe. This is a bit of a longer one because somehow I kept on writing. So once again this is not proofread. I don’t know yet how many parts this story is going to be, because I just want to continue this for as long as I can. I have some ideas for some more future angst that I want to start setting up to keep it interesting. Anyways, enjoy the read. If you do please like, reblog or comment. If you want to be added to my tag list let me know.

WC:2,5K

Tags: Fluff, sweet fluff, two idiots in love, goth!reader, alt!reader, coffee date, but is it really a date, both are flustered messes.

Warnings: Discussions of murder. Nothing worse than in criminal minds itself.

Spencer POV

Spencer stood in front of the lab door again. Hearing the music pour from the cracks, Siouxsie and the banshees again. A familiar situation. Only this time he felt even more nervous than he had before. There was a cup holder in his left hand, the two steaming beverages balanced equally. The smell of cinnamon and coffee filled his nostrils as he took a deep breath. Trying to calm down his racing heart. It had been 4 days since he first called you. 4 Days of wanting to get back to Quantico as quickly as possible so he could bring you the coffee you wanted. He called you every day, short calls at the end of the day right before he’d go to bed. He felt giddy when talking to you, and would go to sleep thinking of when he’d get back. He finally returned late last night, the office was already empty and there was no sign of you to be seen. So he had gone home, planning to get out and get coffee early in the morning. That left him here, in front of your lab. 

As Spencer stood, staring at your name plaque next to the frosted glass door, he felt like he might be going too fast. Coming on too strong perhaps. He didn’t have time to worry about it though when the door in front of him opened. The music turned louder as you came into view. Beaming at him, “Were you planning to come in, or what?” Your voice sounded so melodic to him. Sweet, warm, and slightly teasing. “You saw me?” He asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “It’s frosted glass, I knew there was someone waiting. From the height I suspected it was you.” You answered with a shrug. Spencer did notice the slight pink tinge that dusted your cheeks at those words. The way you avoided eye contact for a moment. You were embarrassed. If only just a little. “I got your coffee.” He held out the holder with the two cups, watching you perk up at the sight of the coffee. “Come in, we can sit together.” You answered him, taking the coffee cup marked with cinnamon. Spencer smiled, he quickly fixed his hair when you turned around, following into the lab. You still wore an almost completely black outfit, this time a skirt that hit just above your knee, large black platform boots made you taller than before. He had noticed this time you wore a ripped shirt, still with a logo on the front that he did not recognise. 

The music was turned down to a mild background noise. Spencer watched you place the little remote on the desk before you sat on the wooden surface. Turning the chair like an invitation for him to sit. His eyes wandered to your legs, the skirt riding up slightly exposing more of those gorgeous thighs. He quickly placed his bag on the ground, before he took his seat forcing his eyes to your face. He didn’t want to feel like a pervert staring at your thighs. The position causes Spencer to have to look slightly up at you, in turn you smiled at him after taking a sip of your drink. He turned slightly side to side in the swivel chair, a nervous energy overtaking him. His knee bumping into your leg softly. He usually was so full of words, but in your presence he was once again speechless. “How was the case?” You spoke up first, breaking the relative silence that had been over taking. Spencer's eyes wandered to his hands in his lap, where he held the cup a little awkwardly.

“Oh, it was a bit more difficult than expected.” He tried to find his voice, still feeling a little tongue tied around you. “There was a group of male bodies found in more of a ritualistic setting in a warehouse. Laid out with their heads towards each other in a cross like fashion, all dressed in white, and with myrrh found on their hands. At first we thought of ritual killings, after learning they were all members of the parish it seemed most likely…” When Spencer looked up and saw you were watching him with undivided attention he was surprised. Normally when he rambled people were either bored or cut him off quickly because it was an inconvenience to them. Yet it seemed to him you weren’t inconvenienced at all. He stopped, feeling his heartbeat pick up again. 

“But it wasn’t a ritual killing? Was it made to look like one then?” You asked him. Your interest in the story was clear to him. You were leaning slightly closer, towards him, the smell of cinnamon mingling with your perfume was a little distracting to him. “It was but not really intentionally I suppose.” He continued to explain the case. He had managed to find his voice, describing what happened, how they managed to track down the unsub, and how the killing was done by a former church member who wanted to expose the victims for their wrong doings. When you would interject with questions he had time to sip his coffee. Slowly but surely the cup grew colder, the coffee becoming less likable with each sip but he didn’t seem to mind as much. So he moved closer to the desk, in turn slotting his knees around your right calf, before placing the coffee cup on the desk. He preferred this, being close to you. Enjoyed the way you were listening to him and showing interest.

“What was it like here?” Spencer asked after he answered your last question about the myrrh, changing the subject to you. He wanted to know how you spent your time, wanted to know what you liked. The idea of learning more about your hobbies and interests had taken up residence in his head. The entire time he had been away there was just this difficulty focussing on the case. Hotch had even called him out on his lack of focus, remarking that he had been unfocused and to get some shut eye if he had a difficulty due to lack of sleep. Instead he had gone back and picked up his phone to look at your number. Debating to call, scared you wouldn’t pick up. When you did hang up the first time he felt a little defeated, his heart was beating out of his chest. However, still feeling like he needed to try again, he hit the call button again. When you did pick up that time, and your voice rang out through the speaker on his phone, relief washed over him. Starting to ramble on as he tried to find the right words to explain how he felt. His heartbeat was still a mess, his head an even worse one. That was until you had explained you had given him his number because you wanted him to call. Suddenly, he could think again.

“Oh, it was fine. When you called I was over at Pen’s place, maybe she told you about it. Other than that it was pretty normal. Currently I am still working on some tests on the stomach contents of a presumed poison victim. I did get something interesting. Do you want to see?” Your smile was infectious as you placed a now empty coffee cup next to Spencer’s discarded one. Spencer watched enamored at your shift, the excitement washing over you showing just how special this thing was. That apparently it had made your week.  "Of course." He answered, delighting in getting to know just a little of what you enjoyed. Spencer watched as you hopped off the desk, suddenly standing so close to him. He really looked up at you, taking a deep breath to take in that intoxicating perfume. You were practically straddling one of his legs as you stood there. He was scared to move, just in case he touched something he wasn't supposed to. His heart beating out of his chest, he could swear he could feel the heat from your skin through the fabric of his pants.

The moment was short lived when you moved a step back and around. Making your way to one of the many cabinets that lined the wall. Some with warning stickers only alluding to the dangers of the content. The one you walked to didn't have any of those labels on them, it was lower than most other cabinets picking up what looked like a frame. He watched you, the way your hips swayed did something to him. Spencer averted his eyes before he got off of the chair, walking over towards you. “It came in yesterday after you called. Maybe you find it a little weird so don't freak okay.” You looked back over your shoulder. Spencer's heart skipped a little, for some reason when you looked over your shoulder the light hit just right, making you glow. All he could think about was wanting to be close to you then. How wonderful you looked. More importantly, how soft your lips looked.

“I won't, I have seen a lot of weird things.” Spencer promised. Taking a few steps closer so he was a foot or 2 away from you. His face was still feeling warm as the urge to be close continued to brew. “You probably have.” you turned to face him as you spoke, still holding the box with the glass facing your body. “So, my favorite books of all time are the Hannibal books. I know… predictable. But they are wonderful books.” you turned the box and Spencer was faced with a beautiful death’s head hawk moth, pinned up against a dark blue background. He smiled a little, having you excited over a moth that was on the cover of your favorite book. He had to file that away for later. “I saw someone sell it online, and just had to have it.” You sounded a little embarrassed. He could see the small flush return to your cheeks. “It's a beautiful specimen.” He answered, “Did you know they squeak when distressed?” He added, unable to stop himself from fact sharing. “I do now.” The smile you wore made him want to lean in, want to kiss you. It was overwhelming. So he bit his lip, not wanting to do something to scare you away. This was new.

You turned away from him, placing the pinned moth back on the small cabinet. Spencer took a step even closer without even thinking. When you turned around you looked surprised, head tilting up to look him in the eyes. He took note of the little breath you took in, how your eyes lingered on his face as your surprise faded away. Just like you had done that first meeting. The mood shifted from nervous excitement to something more intimate. “Spencer?” The way you said his name made his mind go stupid, he could listen to you saying his name over and over again for all eternity. “Yeah?” He said it softly, not sure if you really wanted an answer, or if he even had the brain capacity to answer you coherently. “You’re staring.” The tease in your tone was clear as day. Yet you spoke so softly, with your cheeks dusted in pink. “So are you.” He whispered back. His heart was beating out of his chest. "Touche." You whispered back. With how close you were, the mingle of cinnamon and cherry was too much. He couldn’t think any more. His hand was itching to reach up, to cup your cheeks as he would kiss you.

Spencer’s mind wandered with the idea of how your lips would taste. Obviously the cinnamon would be there, but what else. He wanted to find out. Wanted to kiss you until the coffee was gone and he could just taste you. How his hands would course through your soft hair, or hold your head as he kissed you. Then again he wanted his hands to hold your thighs, the ones which were so enticing to him. The feeling of your soft skin under his fingers, the idea made his mouth water. So, he gently moved his hand up, his fingertips gently caressing your cheek. Your skin was as soft as he expected, maybe even slightly more so. You were warm, flushed and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Wanting to drink up every little reaction, every movement and intake of breath. “Spencer.” You breathed his name. Another eruption of butterflies in his stomach. “Is this okay?” he asked, tucking a small piece of hair behind your ear. It was as smooth as he envisioned. 

You nodded your head, eyes still transfixed on his face. It was cute, Spencer thought, the way you were suddenly the one at a loss for words. How both of you seemed to be so affected by each other. He moved his hand again, placing it where your jaw met your neck, he could feel your heartbeat racing under your skin. A smile tugged at his lips. He was about to lean in, to press his lips softly to yours, unable to resist the urge, when suddenly an alarm rang throughout the lab. Pulling him from the intimate moment. A little resentful of the equipment interrupting him. He watched you close your eyes and breathe out through your nose almost with a sigh. “I have to get that. If I don’t I might not get accurate readings on the toxicology.” You looked a little disappointed. Spencer felt just a little pleased at that. “I understand, my team is probably wondering where I am too.” He responded, taking a step back and allowing you space. He was surprised when you placed your hands on his shoulders, “lean down a little.” He did as you asked, leaning down until his face was almost level with yours. You tipped up onto your toes, the platforms making you at eye level with him.

You smiled, quickly planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He felt his cheeks flush as his brain went blank as his senses just filled with you. “There, that will have to do for now.” You spoke as you pulled away. Spencer was wide eyed but he felt his lips curve into a dopey smile. “It will, for now.” He answered. “You better wash that off before you go back to the bullpen.” You were referencing the lipstick stain on his cheek most likely. “I might want to keep it.” He knew that Derek would tease him for it. It would be a reminder of you though. Of your lips on his skin. “Hmm, don’t blame me for the relentless teasing you will undergo if you do.” You grinned before turning to head to the beeping machine. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Spencer said and you looked back over your shoulder. “See you tomorrow.” You called back before getting to work on the tox screen.

Before Spencer returned to the bullpen he made a quick stop at the mens restroom, taking out his small phone and snapping a picture of your lipstick mark on his cheek. A reminder for later. Before he washed it off with reluctance. He was already looking forward to tomorrow.

Tag list: @depressedbutartsy @sarai-ibn-la-ahad

[uninformedartist]

!Slight discussion on hazbin, spoilers!

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Thinking now about Sir Pentious's sin, that was of being a coward not reporting I assume jack the ripper or someone that represents him. The man didn't do anything "evil" like murder. He was cowardly, kept to himself, selfish really & was silent on bringing a murderer to justice.

My point being thats a sin thats kind of redeemable, atonement for being cowardly ect. I don't know and in the words of Emily "innocent people" in hell can be redeemed when they're rapists, murderers, probably nazis running around there, ect ect heinous crimes has any chance at redemption 💀.

Sir Pentious sin was rather mild to begin with and I find his backstory laughably funny cos he's literally an angel compared to whatever tf rest is in hell. Its easy to give him redemption, not for majority of hell. Vivienne put the bar that low for redemption (the sin type) but the sins of the people in hell are sky high. How tf you gonna redeem Valentino, Angel dust, two examples one is a rapist & one is a murderer and thats just naming 2 of their sins there's more.

Ya'll want to find leaks its out there, pls don't dm me on twitter I won't share anything and this is my last ever post on anything leak related.

[perseephoneee]

ask me to dance? [isaac lahey x f!reader]

request: can you do some wholesome isaac content?

warnings: pure fluff. teenagers being awkward.

a/n: me? remembering to write? shocker. literally struggled with this lol but i'm here and i'm trying to write more in order to be a productive member of society. also i'm so in love with Isaac it's not funny *cries*

↳ masterlist ↳  want to be shipped with a fic character?

It never really got cold in Beacon Hills, considering it was located in California. Still, when temperatures started to fall to a mild climate, it signaled to the teen population that winter was fast approaching. And with that came Winter Ball. Which is all you've been able to think about. 

To anyone who would ask, it wasn't that big of a deal– but you secretly thought about it. All the outfits, the decorations, the romanticism of it all. Maybe it was the hopeless romantic in you, especially as someone who has never had a date. It used to not bother you; you were happily involved in your studies or worrying about being murdered by a supernatural at any time. But then you started spending more time with a certain werewolf and thought it wouldn't be that bad to care about that stuff. 

"Do you think Scott is going to ask me?" Kira said, scaring you out of your thoughts as you closed your locker. You took in the dark-haired female beside you, her eyes questioning and fingers tapping her books. "Will I have to ask him?"

"He'll ask you," you sighed. "He trips over his shoelaces every time he walks down the hall."

"Maybe he didn't tie them well?" Kira looked down the hall as if the boy in question would show up. 

"He likes you," you sent a small smile. Kira relaxed slightly, loosening her shoulders before facing you with a questioning glance. 

"Do you have anyone to go to the dance with?" Kira inquired, plain curiosity in her eyes. You knew, though, that she wanted more info on if you liked anyone. Even with her as a good friend, you rarely discussed those feelings with anyone. Usually, you were the one everyone else confided in. 

"Might not even go," you averted your eyes as Kira slapped your arm lightly. 

"You have to go!" Kira begged. "I can't go alone if Scott asks me."

"Kira, you won't be alone if you go with Scott." She silenced you again with a sharp look. 

"You know what I mean," Kira sighed. "I just don't want you to shy away from something you might enjoy. Especially when I am certain some eligible young bachelor or bachelorette would be interested in going with you."

You pressed your back into your locker, looking down at your scuffed shoes rather than the girl beside you. You glanced up when you caught sight of Scott and Isaac in your peripheral vision. Kira grew still as she saw Scott shuffling closer to you to hide. You tried shoving her, but the kitsune was an immovable rock as Scott and Isaac got closer. You saw Scott's eyes light up as he caught sight of Kira, and you wanted to smile when Kira's cheeks deepened. You made it a point to not stare at Isaac next to him, even if you really liked the blue sweater he was wearing. It's purely observational, with no lurking feelings behind it. 

"Hey guys," Scott smiled, holding his backpack straps like a kindergartener on the first day of school. "Whatcha guys up to?"

"Talking about the dance," you answered right as Kira tried to pass your prior conversation off as nothing. She shot you an angry look, but you hid the smile on your face as Scott perked up. "Kira wants to go but worries about not having a date." The look Kira shot you could be akin to being burned in the seventh circle of Hell, but you knew that your fair-weathered friend would've spent the whole time pondering if Scott liked her rather than making a move. 

"I don't have a date either," Scott grimaced, trying to pass off as a smile. Kira visibly perked up, and you and Isaac barely hid smiles. "Maybe we can go together?" 

The glee that overtook Kira's eyes was radiant, and she nodded enthusiastically. "I would love that," Kira grinned. 

"Great," Scott beamed. "Can I walk you to class?"

Kira grabbed her books, sending you a look that said, "We'll talk later," while happily following the alpha wolf. You turned towards Isaac, feeling your heart start pitter-patter as he made eye contact with you. He gave you a shy smile, fidgeting with the books. 

"They seem happy," you sighed, trying to break whatever tension you imagined. 

"I'm glad it worked out," Isaac said, his steel blue eyes connecting to yours. "Scott was getting annoying."

"So was Kira," you slyly smiled. "What about you?" Isaac looked at you inquisitively. "Are you…going to the dance?"

"I don't think so," he mumbled, averting his eyes briefly. You felt your heart sink in disappointment. Luckily, you were spared a response with the bell ringing. 

"See you around, Lahey," you smiled jokingly, trying to brush off any lingering feelings you had. You turned on your heel and walked off towards the direction of US History. You barely paid attention in class, though, your thoughts consumed with the micro-interaction by your locker. You didn't like Isaac, right? You just were disappointed a good friend wouldn't be there at a dance you might not even be attending. Totally rational feelings. At least that was the mantra you kept repeating till the end of the school day. 

You managed to keep most Winter Ball-related thoughts at bay for the rest of the week while you helped the pack deal with whatever issue. Sometimes, it felt like you guys lived in a CW show with a villain of the week, but somehow, fighting and scheming became part of your routine. You would never admit it to anyone, but you did enjoy the research portion of your problems. Even if it was you and Stiles eating pizza in his room while staring at way too many red strings. It made you feel wanted in a way that you haven't before. By the end of the week, though, the only research you were doing was for a class project. You were already debating when you could (reasonably) quit for the night and curl up with some Netflix or Hulu. Your phone rang by the fifth academic journal, and you glanced to see Lydia's name lighting up the screen. 

"Hello," you said, setting your phone on speaker. 

"Dress shopping tomorrow. Are you in or out?" Lydia asked on the other line. 

"For what?"

"Winter Ball, obviously," Lydia scoffed, the sound of rustling clothes in the background telling you she was going through her closet. "The fact I've waited this long when it's two weeks out is actually ridiculous, but with our life, I guess it's not surprising."

"I might not even go, Lyds."

"Don't be like that," Lydia sighed on the other line. "What's holding you back?"

"Kind of lame to go to a dance without a date," you mumbled, shrinking back into your chair. Maybe if you curled up in a ball and became a turtle, no one would ever ask things of you again. 

"All of your friends will be there, and most girls will probably ditch their dates anyway," Lydia chimed. "And besides, who cares? I don't have a date either, and I'm still going."

"I thought you were going with Stiles."

"In a completely work-related situation," Lydia coughed, even as you rolled your eyes. "He knows that."

"I'm sure he'll figure it out by the tenth corsage he buys you," you snickered.

"Just come tomorrow; Kira is joining. We'll get dresses, lattes, and have a day where werewolves don't intrude." You bit the inside of your cheek, staring at your laptop screen as the words melted into mush in your brain. You could at least hang out, even if you didn't buy anything. 

"I will come," you amended, almost hearing Lydia's excitement from the phone. "I won't promise that I'll buy anything."

"Grab you at 11 a.m., be ready," Lydia chimed, hanging up the phone. You sighed and put your head in your arms, wondering what you got yourself into. 

It was a reminder that waking up by 10 a.m. was a struggle for you. You barely dragged yourself out the door as Lydia spammed your phone, pleading for your coffee as you slid into the car. Kira laughed at you as you curled up in a ball and muttered about sweet death taking you soon. Lydia drove up to the coffee place, an ivy-strewn brick building called Cafe Allegro, and you bolted out of the car and through the doors. The smell of roasting coffee beans and the whir of the espresso machines welcomed you like a blanket on a cold night, and you wondered if you could ask that when you die, it could be in a pile of coffee beans. You ordered your latte, not having to wait long to get your order as you stood off the side, inhaling the fresh scent. Having been absorbed in your calm, you didn't notice the boy standing next to you. 

"You are really into your coffee," Isaac remarked, scaring you out of your stupor. You made a pathetic yelp, grimacing as a chuckle escaped his lips. 

"It's too early."

"It's almost noon."

"Too early," you sighed, sipping the heavenly goodness in your hand. "Why are you here?" 

"Scott and Stiles dragged me to the suit rental place and told me they didn't want me left alone to wallow or something like that," Isaac laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a heather gray henley today that you were enjoying and trying your hardest not to notice. "If it's so early, why are you here?"

"Similar reason. Lydia and Kira dragged me dress shopping," you glanced up at him before looking around the shop and realizing that your comrades were hiding on the opposite side. Annoyingly leaving you with the person who gives you immense jitters. 

"Do you think you'll get a dress?" Isaac inquired. 

"Not sure why, don't have a good reason to," you mumbled, staring at your cup. Gosh, your heart was beating fast, and your stomach hurt. Maybe you should've gotten something calming like herbal tea. 

"You should get one," Isaac coughed, looking visibly uncomfortable. For a second, you worried that you were annoying him. "You would look…pretty."

"Thanks," your cheeks burned. "Then, you should get a suit." You swallowed, feeling like your head was in a whirlpool. Isaac's eyes looked at you with something akin to interest, but you passed it off as your caffeine-filled hallucinations. 

"We should go to the dance together," Isaac said quickly, tensing slightly as he awaited your reaction. Your eyes widened, and you had to remember what solid ground felt like as his words sank in. 

"I would like that very much," you breathed. Isaac's demeanor softened, relief flooding his eyes. He bit his lip to stifle his grin, which was the worst mistake he could've made as now all you were focusing on was his lips. "Gotta go," you announced, bolting from him before he could say anything else or before you jumped him at a coffee shop. You made it to Lydia and Kira and dragged them out of the door, not bothering to look back for fear of embarrassment. Lydia had mild complaints, but mostly, Kira gave you a knowing look. 

"Is there a reason for this rush?" Kira asked, eyebrows lifted in question. 

"I need a dress," you said. Lydia and Kira shared a grin and you knew there was a specific reason they left you with Isaac in the cafe. You wanted to strangle them and kiss them for it. 

The ride to the dress shop was short, but the anxiety building like a knot in your stomach persisted long after. Isaac asked you to the dance. He asked you for some unknown reason. You guys were friends and occasionally worked together. Still, you struggled to have a conversation before that didn't end with you saying something weird and making it awkward. You used to chalk it up to just not having common interests. Still, if you admitted the truth to yourself, you would know it's because you had a giant raging crush on the werewolf. Words were not in your vocabulary around him. 

Entering the dress shop (a cute place called Laura Jane's Boutique), you were suddenly reminded why you didn't really want to go in the first place. You love pretty things, but the over-glitzy dresses and jumpsuits are not your style. At least Kira looked as out of place as you. Lydia led the charge, though, immediately saying "no" to many dresses on the rack and holding up some options for you and Kira. You did love it, though, Lydia caring enough to try and find the perfect dress for her friends. It made you feel wanted. 

You wandered into one of the back sections, skipping the colors you would never wear. What was Isaac's favorite color? Maybe that's the color of dress you should go with. Your inner voice told you it shouldn't matter what color you wear. Not just because you value your independence but because Isaac would love it either way. 

You pushed some dresses aside on one of the racks, stopping at a shorter-length dress. It had bell sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. It was simple but not understated, and you loved it. 

You went home that night feeling like you were on a cloud. Except, like all good things, your crippling insecurities had to rear its ugly head and make you start questioning everything. Laying in your bed, the dress still in its tissue-wrapped bag, you stared at the ceiling, debating what had happened. What if Isaac only asked you to the dance because it was convenient? Or worse, he was asked to by someone like Scott or Lydia? He probably didn't like you at all. Why would he? You were human. Unremarkable. 

Vibrations could be felt in your head as your phone rang, and you begrudgingly grabbed at it without checking the caller ID. "Hello?" you grumbled.

"Hey," the tenor voice said from over the phone. "Can I come over?" 

"Isaac?" you asked, sitting up in your bed. "Is everything okay?" Oh my gosh, was he hurt? Or rescinding his previous offer of the dance.

"I just want to see you," he breathed. "Is this a bad time?"

"Never," you answered quickly. "You can come over."

Ten minutes later, of anxious pacing in your room, you got a text from Isaac saying he had arrived. You ran downstairs to open the door, slightly winded from the rush. Isaac's face was illuminated by your porch lights, and all you could think about was how pretty he was. 

"Hi," you spoke, looking up at him.

"Hi," Isaac smiled, "can I come in?" Nodding, you opened the door further so the golden-haired werewolf could enter. You gestured for him to follow, leading him to your room for privacy. You started to regret that decision when you realized that you had invited someone you were interested in into your bedroom. This was the plot of a bad romance novel. 

"What brings you to my humble abode?" you inquire, twirling to face him.

"I came to check on you," Isaac glanced around your bedroom, smiling faintly at your posters on the wall. You watched his eyes catch on your corkboard, where a photo of the two of you at Derek's loft is in prime display. It was after saving the day, and Stiles had bought multiple tubs of ice cream to celebrate. Derek demanded why this "celebration" had to be at his place. However, Stiles had never once listened to Derek's complaints and hosted it anyway. You loved that picture and that memory. 

"Check on me? I'm not in danger again, am I?" you smile, sitting on your bed and subconsciously grabbing one of your stuffed animals. 

"Kira was over to see Scott and mentioned you might be 'spiraling into oblivion,'" Isaac turned to you, quoting Kira's words. Sometimes, you wondered if that girl was telepathic with how well she knew you. 

"Maybe a little," you mumbled, fidgeting with your fluffy friend. Isaac hesitantly sat next to you on the bed, his weight causing you to sink closer to him. 

"Can I ask why, or should I just infer?" he chimed, grabbing another stuffed friend you have and twirling it around. It was a blue chicken from a video game you play, with a cute pink gizzard and round body. "I like this one."

"Do tell," you chuckled, watching him squish the chicken plush. 

"It's squishy," he muttered, patting it on the head before setting it carefully beside him. Your heart wanted to burst at the small interaction. 

"I was worried about the dance," you responded, answering his previous question. He gave you a sidelong glance, asking you to elaborate. "I don't know why you asked me."

"I like you."

"Like me, or like me?" you whispered, barely able to get your voice heard. Unfortunately, Isaac is sitting next to you and has a werewolf hearing, so he didn't miss a thing. He hesitantly grabbed the stuffed animal from your fidgeting hands, putting it aside before carefully holding your hand in his own. 

"I think you're amazing," he smiled, looking at you with eyes the color of a lakeshore. "So yes, I like you."

"I like you too," you breathed, a smile gripping your lips. "When did you get good at socializing?"

Isaac laughed, still holding your hand as he absentmindedly traced shapes on your knuckles. "Had lots of time to practice conversations while trapped in a freezer."

"You need therapy."

"Probably," he laughed, grinning at you before tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Your breath caught in your throat as he looked at you. "Can I kiss you?" 

You barely managed a nod, your heart thumping loudly in your chest as Isaac kissed your lips. It was soft and somewhat hesitant, like he didn't want you to run away afterward. You boldly deepened the kiss, as it felt like water filled your ears and a marching band played in your heart. The hand he wasn't holding you used to capture his face, his free hand lightly gripping the outside of your thigh. It wasn't fireworks but an ocean at high tide with waves crashing against the shore. And you didn't mind it one bit; you hated fireworks anyway. When Isaac did pull away, his breath was warm against your lips, and you had to remember to let out a shaky breath before you hyperventilate. Isaac kissed your cheek, pulling back to look at you with pure adoration on his face. 

Kissing him again was pure bliss, and you couldn't help but look at him with awe. You weren't sure how you were granted something this good when you've spent your whole life dreaming of something worth half of this. Still, you wouldn't exchange it for anything. It meant you got to spend Winter Ball with the most handsome boy on the dance floor. 

[casualhedonists]

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism (lmk if i forgot anything!) murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, oral sex, thigh riding, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here

chapter: 1/? (chapter 2 here)

MASTERLIST

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

A/N: this is what happens when i let my brain loose to do whatever tf it wants (title is from attention by doja cat as is the general theme)

Show you how to touch it Hold it like it's precious It don't need your lovin' It just needs attention

You were getting tired of this charade.

Snow was courting you, or so it would seem. In truth, it was all for show. He was seen with you on his arm at public events, just enough to make it look like you were together. Marriage was probably further down the line, but Snow was in no rush for that to happen. For now, he was pleased with the positive attention he received for appearing like a reliable, loving, doting partner.

“There’s a science behind it,” Cordelia, Snow’s preferred public relations manager - and one of the Capitol’s best - had told you in a meeting between the three of you, discussing strategy, coordinating events, and how best to make the relationship seem authentic. “The more the public see you as grounded, committed, and warm, the more respect they hold for you. The more open they are to your ideas, and any changes you make as president.”

You’d concealed your smirk well enough for it to go unnoticed upon hearing that.

Snow was a lot of things, but he was never warm. The name itself decreed it. He was cold, calculating, sharp witted, manipulative. Power hungry.

You were fine with the arrangement at first. It suited your thirst for power; despite coming from one of the richest families in the capital, Snow’s power was of a different breed. You wanted in, and so when your social circles crossed over and the proposition was made, you’d risen to the occasion.

The reality was this: it was a good arrangement. Coriolanus was adored and admired by any outsider with a pair of eyes, and you got anything you wanted. You got to live in the manor house Coriolanus occupied, eating good food while being waited on hand and foot. You got to network with powerful people in the highest of society. Even if you wanted someone executed, it would be carried out in turn, without question. Name it, and it was yours. Snow was a generous host and ally to you.

It was everything you wanted.

Almost.

Somehow, despite it all, all the custom gowns shipped in from the expensive designers, the buffet spreads and the silk sheets, the way that people had begun to stare in respect as soon as you walked into a room, there was just one thing that itched at you, one thing you knew wasn’t part of the plan.

It was Snow.

Somewhere, between the light kisses in front of expectant eyes, the gentle hand on yours at dinner, that was hurriedly removed once you were behind closed doors again, you’d grown a gnawing, incessant want towards the man that had given you almost everything you could ever hope for.

Eight months, this had been going on. Eight months since Snow suggested this business proposal. Sex was never a part of the deal. And of course, you couldn’t sleep with anyone you pleased; that would be catastrophic for both of your reputations. And so it had been eight months since anybody had touched you other than yourself, biting your pillow so nobody could hear Snow’s name on your lips as you gripped the sheets. Even if you wanted to sleep with other people, you couldn’t. Truth is though, you’d developed rather expensive taste. A taste for only him. Even if you had the choice, nobody else would do.

You wondered if he ever thought of you while he touched himself. That thought slipped into your head every so often, when your hand was between your thighs. Then it became a more frequent occurrence. Then it became a nightly one, and by then, you were pretty sure you’d started going crazy.

You weren’t a romantic - this arrangement would never have worked if you were. You were like him; power hungry, relentless, impatient. And most of all, when you wanted something, you got it. And you wanted to seduce Coriolanus Snow.

So you’d started leaving breadcrumbs. Put an extra glint in your eyes when you glanced over at him, in public, first, and then in private more and more. You’d thrown out dozens of your more conservative dresses, keeping only the shortest ones that hugged your hips and dropped tantalisingly low on the neckline. Started wearing them more around the house, pretending to drop things just so you could bend down in front of him.

You estimated this act would last for a good week or two before Snow folded.

You were wrong.

If anything, it seemed to render Snow even more indifferent to you than he’d been before you started playing your little games. And each time he ignored you, glanced unimpressed at your outfit then looked away, or full-on walked right past you out the room, you started to simmer even more.

A normal girl in a normal situation would take a hint, cut her losses. But you were no normal girl, and this was no ordinary situation.

You had to be in the same boat, surely. Snow was still just a man, after all. A man with similarly limited options, and you knew he must’ve at least found you a little attractive, else he wouldn’t have chosen you to parade around on his arm in public, in pretty dresses and expensive jewellery.

Snow’s indifference only fuelled your fire. Sure, an ordinary girl would just give up. But eight months of this torture and you were at your breaking point. Besides, it was either him, or nobody. You weren’t giving up. Not in this lifetime.

So you got more obvious. Started taking breakfast in your nightgown each morning instead of getting dressed, sitting opposite Coriolanus with several feet of the mahogany table between you, biting into grapes from the fruit bowl and letting the juice trail down your chin, wiping it off then sucking your fingers clean, humming with your digits in your mouth, glancing at him with full-blown bedroom eyes when he’d look over at you from behind his paper.

It was no use. Nearly a month had passed and he’d barely even looked at you for more than a second at a time. Your conversations were short, lacklustre and strictly business related. You’d even tried playing on his heartstrings, asking about his day and work and his family. You were lucky if you got more than blunt, one-worded answers every time.

You’d exhausted yourself with all these failed attempts, until one Thursday night you heard footsteps walking past your bedroom door. This wasn’t abnormal - Snow kept extensive household staff - except for the sound of these were different. You recognised the faint clicking of heels against the hardwood, a sound you heard all the time at galas and balls, but never in these halls, when an event was nowhere on the radar. And this was one such night.

Your curiosity led you off your bed and to the door, gently opening it to glance outside. Whoever it was had turned the corner, the clicking fading down the hallway. You carefully closed the door behind you and began to follow the sound. A chill ran up the backs of your legs as you walked; it was getting slightly colder as winter closed in, and your bedroom attire wasn’t exactly fit for the weather, given that you picked out the laciest, most impractical slips to sleep in, ready for your performance the next morning at breakfast.

You paced down the corridor, winding past the door to each room, a study, a small library (the larger one was downstairs), Snow’s office, and then finally, at the end, the door to Snow’s bedroom.

Oh.

This room was always enigmatic to you, as you’d never been inside. Your obsession with Snow had led you to wonder, day in and day out, what lay behind that door. The color of his bedsheets, what sat on his dresser, the contents of his closet, what aftershave he wore that had caused you to develop a practically pavlovian reaction anytime he got close to you.

You paused, a few feet away from the door, fearing Snow’s response if you crossed that line, if he were to walk out and find you hovering between his office and his room, clearly attempting to eavesdrop.

You heard shifting, then voices inside as you focused all your attention onto listening, trying hard to pick up on the conversation. You took another tentative step forward, practicing in your head what you would say if he stepped outside. I just wanted to ask what you wanted me to wear on Monday’s gala, I was thinking the white dress with the gold detailing. It wasn’t too late in the evening for that to be a viable excuse, if you could make it sound convincing enough.

But as you got closer you noticed something. There was a soft light spilling out from behind the door, which was in fact, just slightly ajar.

Snow usually kept the door locked at all times, you knew that from testing the handle - admittedly more than a few times - when he had been out of the house, and you were certain he wouldn’t be home for hours. This was something different. This felt dangerous, like walking a tightrope that was about to get cut, but the thrill of adrenaline pushed you forward.

You’d stopped hearing voices by then. You snuck ever closer, ears starting to ring as you found yourself drawn to the open door, taking silent steps towards it until there was no going back, and your body was practically flush to it. Holding your breath, you peeked through, pushing it ever so gently, praying that it wouldn’t creak. You had to crane your neck slightly to see any movement in the room, but it didn’t take long to see it, and when you did, you certainly didn’t feel cold anymore. Any curious whims on the color of his furniture and walls were long pushed to the side, because you couldn’t have focused on anything else in the room if you tried.

Snow was sat on a deep red velvet ottoman at the foot of his bed, shirt buttons undone and pushed behind him, leaving you with a full view of his chest. Your eyes panned down to see his usually pristine dress pants rolled carelessly down, pooling around his ankles. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows in a similarly rushed manner. One hand was behind him, propping himself up, and the other was tightly gripping a handful of blonde hair, belonging to a girl that knelt at his feet in nothing but black underwear and stiletto heels - the culprit of the footsteps - moving her head up and down as Snow roughly guided her, lips parted, head tipped back, eyes firmly shut, breathing roughly. A few strands of damp blonde hair had fallen to his temples, just enough to make him look disheveled, yet somehow still regal, like a greek god.

You stood there, frozen. A million emotions battling for dominance in your head, anger, panic, fear, raging jealousy. Desire.

That was the one that stuck with you in the moment. It was a good thing Snow’s eyes were closed and the girl’s back was facing you, because your feet were firmly planted on the ground, watching this scene unfold, and you wouldn’t be able to go anywhere even if you tried. Watching as Snow’s breathing got heavier, as his grip on the girl’s hair got tighter and more forceful. Watching as her one arm gripped his thigh, and the other moved to where her mouth was, out of your eyeshot, and the obscenity of this was made somehow worse by the fact that you couldn’t see exactly what was happening.

Firstly, because it allowed your brain to fill in the blanks as Snow hissed through his teeth and dropped his head back. Secondly, because from this angle, you couldn’t see the girl’s face, and you were able to picture yourself in her place, wet mouth wrapped around him, being the cause of his undoing.

Come to think of it, there was another reason you were glad you couldn’t see her face, and it was purely for her sake. Because if you could’ve seen her, you would’ve had no excuse not to kill the bitch then and there.

You could hear, though. You could hear her soft moans and the lewd wetness of her mouth as her head moved even faster, before Snow took full control as his hips started to jerk, holding her head in place. There was a fire in the pit of your stomach and your lips were parted, staring. Knowing that if even for a second, Snow opened his eyes just for a glance, he’d see you immediately. You’d be hanged, probably. Or worse. And yet you didn’t run; you couldn’t. Nothing on God’s earth could’ve caused your feet to turn you around and leave the room. It was like you were suspended in some dream-like state, hearing going fuzzy, head spinning.

Then Snow started groaning, breath hitching in his throat as he got closer to the edge, you could hear it. Your brain began melting, and you didn’t have time to think through what would happen after he was finished and he saw you. If you were going to be hanged for this, it would be worth it, you thought, as his hips started to jerk even faster and his groans turned into strained whispers. Fuck and that’s it and good girl, and finally, as his eyes squeezed shut even tighter, and he came into her mouth with a strangled cry, you heard a name.

Yours.

[estellan0vella]

Sunshine's Guide To Murder│Lee Minho

Chapter Thirteen: The Minho Way SS: 4 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 1.3K & 1.4K Content Warnings: Drug Use, Discussions of Addiction, Minho holds Hayun underwater Previous Next Masterlist

Minho strides up to Yeji's dingy apartment building, his mind a storm of frustration and concern. The door is weathered, the paint peeling and it’s just another detail that makes Minho’s blood boil. He bangs his fist against it, hard enough that the doorframe rattles under the force. 

"Open up!" he shouts, his voice reverberating down the narrow hallway. "I’m here for Hayun!"

There’s a muffled thud from inside and then an irritated voice calls back, "Who the fuck is it?"

Minho’s jaw tightens. "Lee Minho, Chaeryeong’s brother!"

The silence that follows is thick, but then the door creaks open. Yeji stands there, leaning lazily against the frame, dressed in a loose tank top that hangs off her shoulder, her hair a mess like she just rolled out of bed. Her eyes flicker with amusement as she takes him in.

"Well, fuck me," she says with a smirk, her tone slow and taunting. "Didn’t expect the murderess’ brother to be tight with Sunshine Hayun. What the hell do you want?"

Minho’s eyes narrow, his patience already wearing thin. "Where is she?"

Yeji’s smirk doesn’t falter as she lazily gestures behind her with a flick of her hand. "She and Ryujin are in the living room. Took oxy. They’re having a good time."

Minho pushes past her without another word, his heart pounding with anger. He storms into the cramped, dingy apartment, his eyes scanning the room until they land on Hayun and what he sees makes his stomach churn.

Hayun and Ryujin are sprawled out on a battered, stained couch. Hayun’s wearing her sunglasses inside, and her body is slack, limp, as if gravity’s winning the fight to keep her upright. Ryujin doesn’t look much better, equally out of it, eyes half-lidded and glassy.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Hayun," Minho growls, stalking over to her, his anger barely restrained. "It’s eleven in the morning. How high are you right now?"

Hayun turns her head slowly, almost dreamlike, a lazy smile spreading across her lips. "I had two oxys," she slurs, her voice thick and sluggish. "I'm just lightly buzzed."

Minho crosses his arms, staring her down with a mix of frustration and concern. "Yeah? Then why is your neck like a limp noodle?" He reaches out and gives her shoulders a light shake, her head lolling to the side, clearly unable to stay upright on her own.

Hayun just sighs, her words slow, dreamlike. "Stop being dramatic, Minho."

His eyes darken as he yanks off her sunglasses, revealing the full extent of her glazed-over, half-closed eyes. "You’re fucked up, Hayun," he mutters under his breath, staring at her in disbelief. "Jesus, you're really out of it."

She giggles softly, as if nothing's wrong, and leans back into the couch. "I feel great."

Minho’s hands tighten around her shoulders as he shakes her again, more urgently this time. "Stay awake, for fuck’s sake. You’re not passing out on me."

Hayun groans, weakly trying to bat his hands away. "Stop being mean!"

Minho’s voice drops, sarcasm biting through his frustration. "Yeah, that’s me. Big bad meanie Minho, here to take care of your drugged-up ass. Again."

"I didn’t ask you to come here," Hayun mumbles, her words barely coherent as she tries to pull away from him, though her movements are clumsy, slow.

Minho’s expression hardens, his jaw clenching. "Well, tough shit, princess. Every time you do this to yourself, I’m gonna show up. Every single time. I’m not letting you bury yourself in this mess."

From the doorway, Yeji leans against the frame, lighting a cigarette. She watches the scene unfold with mild amusement, taking a long drag before speaking. "She’s a big girl, Minho. She can make her own choices."

Minho spins around, glaring at her, his frustration barely contained. "Yeah? And you’re the one feeding her these choices, aren’t you? You and your drugs did this to her."

Yeji blows out a cloud of smoke, unbothered, her eyes half-lidded as she shrugs. "She did it to herself. I just provide what she’s looking for. I keep an eye on her when she’s here. So does Ryu." She motions to Ryujin, who is barely conscious, slumped against the arm of the couch, her eyes rolling shut every few seconds.

Minho glances at Ryujin, his fury growing. "Yeah, because Ryujin looks real capable of babysitting anyone right now."

Yeji shrugs again, flicking her cigarette ash onto the floor without a care. "There’s no point moving her now. She needs to ride it out. Just let her be, Minho."

Minho’s patience snaps. He steps closer to Yeji, his voice low and dangerous. "You’re going to stop selling to her. Right fucking now."

Yeji’s eyes gleam with amusement as she takes another slow drag, blowing the smoke directly toward him. "Why would I do that? She’s got demons, Minho. Demons to run from. I help her run. I’m the only thing keeping her sane."

Minho’s eyes flash with anger. "Sane? You think this is sane?" He motions toward Hayun, who’s barely holding her head up, her body limp against the couch.

Yeji chuckles softly, shaking her head. "First time she came to me, I said no. Told her I didn’t want to sell to some sixteen-year-old kid. But she told me what she’s been fighting since the night Yuna disappeared." Her eyes flicker toward Hayun, her expression sharpening. "I took pity on her."

Minho’s voice tightens, his frustration bubbling over. "You know what happened that night?"

Yeji leans back against the doorframe, her cigarette dangling lazily between her fingers. "I’m one of the only people who know the truth. Me, Hayun, Yuna, Lia, and Mingi. And well..." Her lips curl into a sneer. "Yuna’s dead. Good riddance. If your sister killed Yuna, she deserved a fucking medal for it."

Minho’s whole body tenses, his fists clenching as he steps closer, his voice cold and dangerous. "Chaeryeong didn’t kill Yuna. And she didn’t kill herself, either."

Yeji holds his gaze for a long moment, her expression unreadable as the cigarette burns down between her fingers. "Believe whatever helps you sleep at night, Minho. But you’re swimming in shit you don’t understand."

The room falls into a thick, uncomfortable silence. Hayun slumps further down on the couch, her head tipping forward slightly, barely aware of the tense confrontation happening around her.

Yeji takes a final drag from her cigarette, then flicks the butt onto the floor, crushing it beneath her foot with a slow, deliberate movement.

"You’re not going to fix her, you know," she says, her tone light but mocking. "She’s been broken for a long time. And you? You’re just a Band-Aid on an open wound."

Minho doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on Hayun, his mind racing. The anger is still burning under the surface, but there’s something else. Something more helpless. He can’t fix this in one day. He knows that. But there’s no way he’s letting Hayun drown in this. Not here. Not with Yeji. Not ever.

Without another word, Minho steps forward and scoops Hayun up into his arms. She’s light and limp, barely responding as he lifts her, her body slumping against him. He adjusts his grip, holding her securely as she leans her head against his chest, too out of it to fight back.

Yeji watches with a smirk, her arms crossed as she leans back against the doorframe. "You can take her, but she’ll be back. She always comes back."

Minho glares at her, his voice steady but filled with fury. "She’s not coming back here. Ever."

Yeji just laughs softly, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Oh, Minho. You don’t get it, do you? You can’t save her. No one can."

Minho doesn’t respond. He turns and walks out of the apartment, Hayun still cradled in his arms, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He casts one last glance over his shoulder at Yeji, his eyes cold.

"Watch me."

With that, he steps out into the hallway, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving Yeji’s laughter echoing through the empty apartment.

Minho grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white, his jaw clenched in a way that makes his teeth ache. The frustration in his chest is building to a boiling point, and the worst part is the worry tangled up in it.

The image of Hayun slumped over in the passenger seat, her head lolling against the headrest, makes his gut twist. Her face is pale, her lips parted slightly as she breathes slowly.

When they finally pull up to his house, Minho jerks the car to a stop, tyres screeching slightly on the pavement. Without waiting a second, he jumps out, rushing around to the passenger side. He pulls open the door, and Hayun’s body slumps further, almost falling out of the car. Minho catches her before she hits the ground, hoisting her into his arms.

"Fucking hell," he mutters, adjusting her limp form. She’s barely conscious, her head lolling against his shoulder. "Come on, stay with me."

He kicks the front door with his boot, his patience long gone. It swings open almost immediately, and Hyunjin stands there, eyes widening as he takes in the sight of Minho carrying Hayun.

"What the fuck, Minho? It’s the middle of the day. What’s wrong with her?" Hyunjin asks, stepping aside to let them in, his voice full of concern.

"She’s high," Minho snaps, pushing past him into the house. "And do not tell Jisung or Felix. Don’t tell anyone. Help me get her to the bathroom."

Hyunjin’s eyes harden, and he gives a quick nod, following Minho toward the hallway. "Shit. Yeah, okay. Let’s get her up."

They half-carry, half-drag Hayun down the narrow hallway toward the bathroom. Her feet barely touch the ground, her shoes scuffing against the floor. She’s murmuring something under her breath, her words slurred and incomprehensible.

Once they get her inside, Minho and Hyunjin hoist her into the shower, clothes and all. Minho slams the door shut behind them.

"Turn it on," Minho orders and Hyunjin twists the knob, setting it all the way to cold.

The water comes blasting down, frigid and relentless, soaking all three of them instantly. Hayun jerks slightly, her body reacting to the sudden shock of cold, but she’s still far too out of it to fully comprehend what’s happening.

Hyunjin, his wet hair plastered to his forehead, shoots Minho a grim look. "Yeji again?"

"Yeah," Minho growls, keeping his grip tight on Hayun to keep her upright.

Hyunjin’s lips tighten. "I hate her. She’s my cousin, but I don’t give a shit anymore. She’s killing people like Hayun. Slowly, but surely."

Hayun whines softly, trying to push herself away from the freezing water, her body shivering uncontrollably. "N-No... s-stop..." she murmurs, her voice weak, almost childlike.

Minho holds her firmly, his voice cold. "Suck it up, princess. You wanna get high at Yeji’s? Then you sober up the Minho way."

"The Minho way sucks," Hayun groans, her weak attempts to move away from the water doing nothing as Minho keeps her steady.

"Yeah, well," Minho mutters darkly, "you’ll hate it even more by the time we’re done."

She’s shivering so violently now that her teeth are chattering, but Minho shows no mercy. He keeps her under the freezing water, his jaw clenched as the icy spray soaks through his own clothes. He knows it’s brutal, but he doesn’t care.

"I’m not your responsibility," Hayun mutters, her words slurring together. "I never asked you for anything."

Minho’s eyes flash, his frustration mounting as he leans in closer to her face. "Yeah, well, you made yourself my responsibility when you made me care about you," he snaps. "You don’t get to self-destruct without me getting involved."

"I’m not an addict," she mumbles, her head lolling forward again as the cold water drenches her, running in rivulets down her face and body. Her lips are turning a pale blue, and her hands tremble as she tries to keep herself steady.

Hyunjin, holding her up from the other side, snorts bitterly. "Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that. You’re drowning, Hayun, and you’re pretending you’re swimming."

Minho tightens his grip on her shoulders, leaning down to speak directly in her ear, his voice low and dangerous. "You go back to Yeji’s place again without telling anyone, I swear to god, I’ll fill a bathtub with ice water and hold you under. You hear me?"

Hayun tries to bat his hands away, but her movements are weak, barely more than a half-hearted attempt. "You don’t get it," she murmurs, her head drooping forward as if she’s losing the battle to stay awake.

Minho’s voice is sharp, cutting through the roar of the water. "Then explain it to me, because right now, it looks like you’re trying to kill yourself."

"I don’t need you to save me," Hayun mutters, her voice quieter now, almost fragile. "I was fine at Yeji’s. I was happy."

Hyunjin’s jaw clenches as he glances at Minho. "You were high."

Hayun lets out a weak, bitter laugh, the sound hollow. "Same thing."

Minho’s patience snaps. "You think this is happiness?" he demands, his voice rising. "This? Lying on a couch, high out of your mind, waiting for someone like Yeji to bury your body when you take one pill too many?"

Hayun groans, barely able to keep her eyes open. "You don’t understand."

"Fine," Minho says coldly. "I’m done being nice."

Without warning, he steps away from her, leaving Hyunjin to hold her up as he moves toward the bathtub. He turns on the faucet, cranking it all the way to cold, and within moments, the tub is filling with freezing water. Hyunjin watches him, eyes wide, but doesn’t say anything as Minho leaves the room and returns with a bag of ice, dumping it into the tub without hesitation.

"Minho..." Hyunjin starts, his voice uncertain, watching the ice cubes swirl around in the frigid water.

Minho cuts him off, his voice hard. "No more cold showers. That clearly didn’t work."

Before Hayun can even register what’s happening, Minho yanks her out of the shower, her feet stumbling against the wet floor. She’s barely coherent, her head still lolling to the side as Minho lifts her into his arms once again.

"Minho, wait-" Hyunjin tries again, but Minho doesn’t listen.

With a determined, almost cold efficiency, Minho lowers Hayun into the ice bath, submerging her body in the freezing water. The shock hits her immediately. She gasps, her limbs jerking weakly, but the drugs in her system are still dulling her reactions.

"Deep breath," Minho orders, his voice steely, and Hayun barely manages to inhale before he pushes her head under the water.

One, two, three, four, five- he counts silently in his head, his jaw clenched as her body thrashes weakly under the surface. Then, he pulls her back up, water pouring off her face, her breathing ragged as she gasps for air.

Minho stares into her eyes, his gaze hard, looking for any sign of clarity. But her pupils are still blown wide, and the haze in her eyes hasn’t faded.

"Still high," he mutters, his frustration growing. "Guess you’re going under again."

Before Hayun can protest, Minho pushes her back under the water. Her body jerks again, weaker this time, as the freezing cold assaults her senses. After another five seconds, he pulls her up, and this time, she spits at him.

Minho wipes the spit from his face, his expression dark. "Cute," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But I’m going to do this every time you get high. Don’t like it? Stop popping oxy."

Hayun’s body trembles violently, her breathing shallow as she slumps against the edge of the tub. She’s still not fully sober, but the cold is starting to break through the fog, bringing her back to reality.

Hyunjin watches in silence, his arms crossed, but his face is grim. "He’s right, Hayun," he says quietly, his voice soft but firm. "This isn’t a game. You’re playing with your life."

Minho’s gaze softens just slightly as he leans down, his voice quiet but filled with determination. "I care about you, Hayun. And I’m not going to let you destroy yourself, no matter how much you try."

Hayun’s lip twitches, her eyes still glassy, but there’s something broken in her expression now. She doesn’t spit this time. She can’t. She’s too worn out, too cold, too drained.

Minho stares at her for a moment longer, then reaches into the tub, lifting her out of the icy water. Her body is trembling uncontrollably, her teeth chattering as he wraps her in a towel, holding her close.

"You’re not going back to Yeji’s," Minho says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I won’t let you."

Taglist: @hityoulikebahng @drewsandsebastianswife @fackeraccount @lily-loves-kpop @stilldontknowhoiam

@ziggy1221 @justaspoonofjam @tr-mha-fan @candycurshidkwhatthehell

[wobblesthecowgirl]

I'm No O’Driscoll!

Chapter Four: Lenny!

Tags: Arthur Morgan x Femreader, enemies to lovers, O'Driscoll reader, game plot, Arthur doesn't have tuberculosis, eventual smut, age difference, 18+, mild gore

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this longer chapter! Sorry it took a little longer to get out! They say drunk words are sober thoughts! But don't get it twisted, they still hate each other...

Chapter One Chapter Five

Y/n had gotten closer with Mary-Beth, seeing that she was the only kind member of the gang. Plus, they both had a thing for reading, so the conversation possibilities were endless.

Today was no different, the two women were sitting on a blanket under the canopy, discussing Mary-Beth's novel ideas, the dark night bringing an odd sort of comfort. An owl was hooting in the back, and small mummers of those around, when Lenny came bounding in on his horse. This was the first time Y/n had seen the boy, but luckily her new friend had gone through everybody here. He went running to Arthur and Dutch who had been previously discussing something important.

“Dutch, Arthur. They got Micah.” He panted, hopping off his horse with a small, panicked stumble. The rest of the camp were watching curiously, as Dutch, Arthur, and Molly walked over to the younger boy.

“What’s going on?” Dutch asked, trying to calm him down. Lenny continued, still not calming down, “They got MIcah. He- He’s been arrested for murder. He was in Strawberry and…”

“It’s ok, son. Breathe.” The gang’s leader soothed him, Lenny took a deep breath, leaning forward with his hands on his knees before explaining what was going on.

Mary-Beth leaned over to Y/n and murmured. “I hope he does get hanged.”

“Woah, Mary!” Y/n exclaimed, surprised at the sudden hostile sentence hushed at her new friend's mouth; she definitely wasn’t the type to throw that around with no reason. If you can piss off her, you gotta be a bad person.

“…and there’s talk of hanging him.”

Y/n turned her attention back to the scene unfolding before them. She watched Arthur’s lips turn into a playful smile, “Here’s hoping.”

“Arthur!” Dutch warned him.

“What?” He asked innocently, as if he didn’t just wish a man to be hung. She found herself giggling. Ok, that was actually a bit funny. The two continued to go back and forth as Lenny sat on a nearby table, looking distressed.

“You take that kid into town, Valentine, not Strawberry. Get him drunk.” Dutch paused and looked around until he caught eyes with Y/n. He pointed at her, “And take her with you. This is a great opportunity for what we discussed earlier.”

She quickly stood up, the pain in her leg had gotten better but still not perfect, and turned to Mary-Beth, “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to leave you quickly.” She sped-walked towards the men.

“Mr Van Der Linde,” She began, “I appreciate you being kind enough to let me stay here despite my past. However, please don’t make me hang out with Mr Morgan.”

“Yeah, why have I gotta drag her along? I’m fine with just taking the boy.” Arthur protested; a pleading look in his eye. Yet Dutch wouldn’t hear them out, and instead waved them off.

With a sigh, Arthur turned to Lenny, “Come on, son.” Before calling out to Dutch and made his way to his horse. Y/n awkwardly tailed behind him, unsure how this was going to go down. She was going to get a drink with a man who hates her, and a boy she’s never met. The men got on their horses and he turned to look at her.

“You gonna refuse my help again, princess?” Arthur looked at her, as she huffed in annoyance, grabbing the saddle and pulling herself up with a small grunt.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He said as she finally got on, before they made their way out of camp.

“So, who are you?” Lenny shouted from behind as he followed Arthur. Y/n looked over her shoulder and smiled politely.

“I’m Y/n L/n!”

“She’s an O’Driscoll!” Arthur interrupted her which caused Lenny to grimace.

Still looking at Lenny she corrected, “Don’t listen to him. If I was, do you think Dutch would let me stay?” Lenny nodded but his face told a different story. Great, there goes my chance to fit in.

The two of them continued to talk about what went down in Strawberry as the woman kept to herself, she didn’t really feel welcomed, why Dutch made her go is beyond her. They finally made it to Valentine and Y/n realised this was the first time in weeks where she had seen a proper town. It was dark, but plenty of streetlights to keep it well lit. Some drunk men stumbled around, and shops were closing for the night. The men hitched their horses outside the saloon, Y/n taking extra care when jumping off. She could feel Lenny’s stare at the back of her head while Arthur went inside.

She followed him to the bar and found herself in between them both, most likely in case she tried to do anything funny. The men put some money down and that’s when she realised. She looked down to see her tatty clothes (which thankfully she washed recently, but still had a hole on her thigh), and no satchel.

“What’s wrong?” Lenny inquired as she sighed.

“My bag was taken when I was hostage, and I haven’t asked for it back yet.” She looked at Arthur who could only shake his head and put another coin down for her. She knew she should say thank you, but she was too suborn to say thank you to him.

“Just one or two…right, Arthur?” The younger boy sounded stressed, leaning over the counter a little.

“Course, just a drink, no big drama.” He turned to the bartender, “Can we get three beers please?”

The bartender looked petrified to see him, which only made her curious as to the kind of trouble he has gotten himself into around here.

“I don’t want no trouble.” The bartender put his hands up in defensive as Arthur groaned, “And you’ll get none from me. I was defending myself.”

Y/n chuckled; she highly doubted that was the case. He gave another coin to the bartender for himself to get a drink- which was actually more likely to just shut him up- and Lenny and Arthur continued to talk about Strawberry. Y/n was beginning to feel a little left out, chugging her entire beer to pass the time.

A stranger stumbled over to them, a little too close for comfort and smelling of booze.

“I seen a lot of crazy, crazy stuffy” He mimicked Lenny. Arthur grunted, “Will you shut up?”

They went back and forth for a bit, Arthur increasingly getting angier.

The man faced Y/n, leaning in too close which made her lean away. She felt Lenny put a hand on her shoulder and snapped at the man, “Leave the lady alone.”

“Leave the lady alone.” The man mimicked again, “Ladies have been leaving me alone for the last ten years, I’m bored with being left alone. Come with me, pretty lady.”

“Get any closer to me and I’ll knock your front teeth out.” She hissed, which only made the gross man more determined.

“Don’t be like that missy. I promise I’ll show you a good time.”

Arthur piped up, irritation laced in his voice, and fully turning his body towards him.

“Listen, buddy. You’re a charming fellow. But she’s a taken woman, and me and the kid here, we’re tryin’ to talk business. So, could you possibly leave us alone? No offense intended.” He treaded carefully with his words, as the man took full offence and began to stumble away.

“Ain’t no pleasing some folk. I was just, trying to be friendly.”

The three watched him leave, before sighing.

“I think I need another drink after that.” Y/n mumbled, Arthur nodded before giving her a handful of coins, much to her surprise.

“That’s you allowance. Don’t spend it all in one go.”

She placed a coin down for another beer, “Don’t treat me like a child.” She snapped, before going quieter, “Thanks.” He grumbled in response, getting himself another drink. As the time went on, the two drinks went to three, then four. The men were outdrinking her, and unfortunately, she was doing her best to keep up despite being a lightweight. Lenny had even bought her some, warming up to her. Arthur was becoming louder, cheerier than his usual grumpy exterior.

“You gotta slow down, girlie.” Arthur chuckled as he watched her chug another glass down. Her cheeks had become rosier, and she was definitely becoming more relaxed.

“Ay, you have to stop bossing me around, old man.”

“And you hafta stop calling me old man.” He grumbled, sipping his beer.

She watched him stumble towards the piano man and laugh at his playing, complimenting him. She found the way he was acting funny, giggling as she made her way over to him. She watched as he looked towards her, a drunken smile on his face before it contorts to that of confusion.

“Lenny, where are you?” He suddenly shouts, causing the woman to cover her ears. She looked around for the younger boy, feeling guilty for not realising he had wondered off somewhere. The lights of the saloon seemed a lot brighter than before, and the music a little louder.

“Lets go find him, Mr Morgan.” She said, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him gently. They looked around, and she occasionally asked some women who shook their heads apologetically.

“Hey, you seen my friend anywhere?” Arthur asked as a man on the stairs hinted at Lenny being upstairs.

“Hey! I see him!” Y/n shook Arthur’s shoulder and pointed at Lenny who was leaning against the banister. Arthur leaned down to her eye level so that his head was near her shoulder and ear, and peered so he could see what she was seeing. She could smell him: a cheap cologne, tobacco, and a lot of beer. She gently nudged him, “Do you mind? Personal space.” He slurred out a sorry before walking over to Lenny.

“What are you doing, kid?”

Lenny was trying to balance a beer bottle on his head. Y/n stifled out a laugh before complimenting him, “That’s very impressive!”

“Hello Arthur, Y/n. You know what, I don’t know.” His concentration was broken when the bottle fell. All three of them tried to catch it but failed as it smashed on the bottom floor. The older man laughed and patted him on the back. He turned to the woman and snatched the beer bottle out her hand.

“Now you try, Princess!” He was already trying to put it on her head while she attempted to swat his muscular arm away.

“Get your manly arms away from my head, idiot!”

Arthur continued to fight her, Lenny was holding onto his stomach and laughed, “Come on, Y/n! Balance it!”

She held still as Arthur placed it on her head… and it instantly fell off and smashed. The men laughed as she kicked the shards away from her feet. The three of them were way more relaxed now, chatting away and howling with joy. Both men were even making sure she was involved.

“Well, why ain’t the two of you ever married?” Lenny asked them both; she looked to Arthur who pouted like a lost child and moped.

“No one would have me.”

She patted his back, “It’s ok tough guy.” The men looked at her, waiting for a response, which she simply shrugged, “I’m not sure. Too grumpy I guess.”

“That’s very likely!” Arthur cackled which earned a slap on the back from her as he continued, “That pretty face is wasted ‘cos you’re so sour, like a lemon!”

She grumbled some more insults as Lenny began to dance, and held a hand out to her. She took is and boogied with him while in the background, Arthur was jumping up and down. She blacked out for a second and woke up to Arthur shouting.

“Lenny? Lenny! Come on you unhelpful woman.” He rolled his eyes and dragged her back to her feet, causing her to use him as support for a minute. She then realised the position they were in and pushed him away, as he continued to call for their friend; where they found him was on top of the bar. He was swinging at a few men who were trying to grab him while the bartender cowered away.

“Hey” Y/n barked, storming (or stumbling) down the steps with a pointed finger, “You get the hell away from that boy!” They all turned towards her, some smirking and the rest confused.

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to, bitch?”

She felt a large hand hold her shoulder and pull her back as she saw Arthur come into view, “Nobody. She’s talkin’ to nobody,” One of the other men piped up.

“What did you say?”

“Get lost, buddy!” It was clear that Arthur was incredibly drunk given how badly he was slurring his words. She couldn’t help but laugh at his sorry state, like she was any better.

“What you think you laughing at?” Another man sneered at her.

“Your ugly fucking face!” She laughed harder, before blacking out again.

When she came back to her senses, both men were gone. She called out for Arthur, even getting a few random strangers confused for him. She finally got a lead by one of the women, “Was that the big guy you was with? I think he’s outside, ‘round the back.” She thanked her and wobble walked to the back door and opened it.

“Goddammit woman!” He freaked out and quickly turned his body around. She was confused at first until she saw the stream of piss coming out of him. He had turned around in time so she could only see how his belt was undone and the way he leaned back slightly with his hands holding…it.

“What are you doing! Use a god damn toilet, you animal!”

“There aint none!” He snapped back before finishing, and she realised she was still looking at him, so she too faced away until she heard his jeans being zipped up.

“Come on, lets find that boy.” He muttered as he walked past her and opened the door, herself right behind him. He stumbled around, thinking everyone was Lenny and laughing until the patron’s got annoyed with him. He looked around and saw her before laughing and coming over, grabbing both her shoulders.

“Got cha Lennnnny!”

“Arthur you dumbass. It’s me!”

He stared at her intently before making an o shape with his mouth and letting go off her. She looked over his shoulder and pointed, “There he is!”

Lenny heard her and smiled, shuffling his way to them. He grabbed the older man and asked, “Arthur, Arthur! What are you doing?”

Instead of replying, they had a slap contests, the whole bar cheering. The woman decided to get another drink while they did so, just in case they got her involved, and chugged the whiskey down. Her body heat was causing her to sweat slightly, her hair sticking to her forehead, and her eyes to go droopy and hazy.

She heard Arthur order a drink next to her.

“You gotta be by my side all the time?” She joked as he grinned at her.

“I hafta make sure the lady is behaving now, don’t I?”

“No you don’t. You’re not my boss.

He took a sip of whiskey, “I aint? Pretty sure I am, Lemon.”

“Lemon?”

“Yeah, ‘cos you’re sour.”

“Shut up.” She huffed as the man who gave them trouble when they first walked in stumbled over.

“Not you again.” Arthur shook his head but the drunk ignored him and turned his attention to Y/n, standing close to her side. He grabbed her waist and smirked, and she put her hands on his chest and shoved him. He stumbled but regained his composure and went for her thigh.

“Get off me!” She shouted, backing up into Arthur.

“You hear the lady! She don’t want you!”

The drunk groaned, “Oh come on lady. I don’t see your man anywhere. Just come home with me.” He tried to grab her again but her older companion stood in front of her so she could hide behind him.

“Listen here. If you don’t get the hint and leave my woman alone, I’m gonna drown you.” He threatened. Y/n couldn’t deny she was thankful, but a little annoyed that she was depending on him.

“She’s yours? Rent her for the night?” The drunk chortled as Arthur suddenly grabbed his ear and aggressively dragged him outside. Y/n quickly drank the rest of Arthur’s drink for him and stumbled outside. In horror, she found him trying to drown the man like he promised. She grabbed his bicep and tried to pry him off the man, which he did with reluctance. The stranger gasped for air, looking petrified and scampering away.

“Why would you do that, you fool? You trying to get arrested?” She told him off, but he didn’t look remorseful.

“Hada teach him a lesson. Not to mess with my woman!” He joked as she laughed.

“Never in a million years.”

They heard Lenny come outside shouting their names. The alcohol was really getting to them now. The men were rolling around in the mud, and this time she joined in with the rough housing, getting covered in the dirt as well. As they danced in the middle of the street with the younger boy throwing up a lot, they heard shouting. Lenny got tackled by a deputy as another two went for them, “Come here! You drunk fools!”

“Come on, Lemon!” Arthur snatched her wrist and began running behind the saloon. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion and she watched the way his back moved and the tightness of his grip.

“You’ll never take me alive!” He boasted, a unusual cheeriness in his voice which caused her to giggle.

“Turn right, Mister!” She laughed as another man cut them off. Arthur was laughing just as much as she was as he screamed, “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness!” They came across a fence so he let go of her wrist and jumped over before turning around and putting his hands under her armpits and picking her up with ease. Like I'm a ragdoll!

He moved her into a bridal hold as he ran; she wrapped her arms around his neck and screamed, though she wasn’t sure what for. The adrenaline, the drunk butterflies, the running, or the fact this man was carrying her like she weighed a couple of feathers. It was sort of comforting, so much so that she blacked out again.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

When she woke up in the morning, her throat was dry, and her eyes couldn’t fully open because of the light. She groaned before realising she was laying on something. She looked to her right and saw she had been sleeping on Arthur’s arm. The man was completely sprawled out on the grass and looked like he was dead.

“Oy. Wake up, you fool!” She slapped his face hard as he jolted awake and groaned in pain. His eyes met hers, and a confused look spread across his face.

“You? Where are we? What happened? Were we sleeping together?”

She tried to stand up but had to hold onto a near tree, scared she was about to vomit but swallowed hard.

“Don’t say it like that. We ran away from the law and passed out.” She looked around and saw they were on the outskirts of Valentine near the barn.

“Looks like we didn’t get that far. Come on, lets go bail Lenny.” She watched as the man threw up and rubbed his eyes.

“Whatever happened yesterday, that doesn’t make us friends.” He pointed a finger at her as she made a slow walk back to the town.

“We never were.” Y/n paused, “But I did have fun last night.”

She saw the corner of his mouth turn up slightly.

“Me too.”

[radioisntdead]

You know that trope of “I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy-” so on and so forth? Well, that, but it’s actually true because reader wants to help his best and closest friends at the hotel. It can be a bit of found family fluff, and include whoever you want, you got free reign here toots.

Some examples are Angel getting more time off work because reader ‘knows a guy’, Husk getting more premium alcohol because reader ‘knows a another guy’, Nifty getting better and higher grade cleaning equipment, Charlie and Vaggie getting better advertisements, Alastor getting fresh boars and Pentious getting new parts.

When directly confronted about it, reader just gets all coy and says, “I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows another guy, who knows a guys cousin, who knows a girls aunt, who knows-”

Good evening my dear! I had so much fun writing this! Lowkey based the reader off of Todd from Bojack horseman also my apologies for this being a little short.

Oh, I know a guy!

Hazbin hotel x reader,

Warnings: shenanigans! Mild ooc Also the ending is a little muddled because my brain stopped working because it's 3 am and I'm hungry.

In hell, pure unbridled and unchained loyalty was hard to gain, and genuine friendship was harder to find.

And someone like you, someone filled with simple kindness, someone who just did things for others expecting nothing in return was nearly impossible to find.

You accidentally befriended Sinners and hellborn alike, and that granted you with connections a ordinary sinner wouldn't have!

You found the Hazbin hotel after an incident where you were shot out of a circus canon and crashed through one of the walls, and you decided to stick around!

You get a free hotel room and there's a chance of redemption and to seeing the pearly gates of heaven? That's a pretty good deal in your book!

You gave no warning for when you'd use for connections to improve the hotel or to just make things better for your fellow hotel residents!

Husk complained about the horrible quality of alcohol?

The next day a shipment of high quality luxury alcohol came in, at first they thought it was a mistake but were assured that it wasn't, The imp who delivered it greeted you with joy as you addressed him by name and began to ask how he was, how his wife and kids were, etc etc.

You accidentally ran into Charlie and Vaggie during date night? You call up a guy and get them VIP seats for a sold out show they wanted to see.

One of Alastor's old radios break? And he's about to murder someone? You know a guy who can fix it right up, make it good as new!

Niffty's cleaning supplies are beginning to break? you make a phone call and suddenly industrial grade cleaning supplies are delivered to the hotel, She's filled with pure unbridled glee!

Angel dust is complaining about Valentino overworking him? No worries you know a guy! Valentino is shot dead the next day.

Sir Pentious needs a very specific, very outdated and extremely hard to find part for something? You know a guy who can get you one for dirt cheap!

Eventually after you had gotten the hotel a whole build board advertisment the residents came together to discuss what exactly you did to get them what you did, because as far as they knew you weren't an overlord or even threatening for that matter! Angel dust swears he saw you cry over accidentally killing a bug once!

Several theories were made, Niffty and some of the egg Bois stalked followed you for a time!

And you didn't even notice! Honestly they were concerned about that because the egg Bois weren't exactly... Discreet, several of them died.

Eventually they just decided to rip the bandaid off.

"Okay guys so, hear me out on clown dentists, I know some clowns that could be great dentists!" You said waltzing on into the hotel, to be greeted with the people you have begun to regard as your friends, and dare you say, family, circled around the lobby couch like they were preparing for an intervention.

You tilted your head confused and before you could open your mouth to say anything you were grabbed like you were being kidnapped by a slasher killer and thrown onto the couch.

"That's an idea but let's put a pin in that for now because we have a couple concerns about how exactly you get some stuff, like that build board for the hotel!" Charlie started up carefully before Vaggie continued,

"And the time you got us free tickets for that show, thanks again for that but those tickets are expensive."

You shrugged, "I know a guy who's sister's boyfriend's cousin's aunt's poodle is in the build board business, and it's no problem, if you wanna see another show just let me know and I can get you two more tickets! It's no biggie! I know a guy!"

An eyebrow was raised "For completely free? No tricks?"

"Or at a huge discount! And no tricks!" You innocently grinned,

"What about the luxury alcohol you got the bar?" A glance was given to the cat that ran said bar, who was drinking a bottle of said luxury alcohol,

"I know a guy who's married to a Alcohol maker's daughter's daughter in wrath! They have loads of extra alcohol just laying around!"

"What about the parts you got for Pentious?"

"I know a guy who's married to his brother's girlfriend's twice removed cousin's poodle's dog Walker's mother's-" "This is getting ridiculous," "gREAT GREAT GRAND MOTHER'S Chewbacca's queer icon nephew's unicorn who owns a shop."

Were you joking? Or were you complete serious? They genuinely couldn't tell.

"Ya' got the purple pimp killed, I owe ya' one and I don't care whatcha' do in your free time but it is a concerning because ya' know the other two Vees?'' Angel popped in.

"I know a guy who knows a girl who knows a Chicago deep dish pizza who knows a new York style pizza guy who knows a cannibal in cannibal town who knows Rosie's hat gremlin who knows another hat gremlin who knows about hat creature that had a vendetta against pimp grimace!"

"What the fuck."

"Don't question it! I don't mind using my connections for you guys! Your practically my family anywho!" You get up from the couch, "I'm gonna go put together a sinterest board for my dentist clown idea, bye!" You said before booking it up the stairs and into your room, leaving confusion, a very touched Charlie from being called family, questions technically answered and concern for what the fuck clown dentists were.

Good evening folks! I hope you enjoyed this! It became a little funky with the dialogue but that's alright, Either Mob Alastor headcanons or an angst fic is coming up next so tune on in for that! As always thank you for tuning in and goodnight!

Pssssst, you should totally join our discord server