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after-witch · 10 months

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The Driven Snow [Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Reader]

Title: The Driven Snow [Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Reader]

Synopsis: You're a District 2 school graduate who comes to the Capitol with her father before the 11th Hunger Games. You don't expect to meet anyone kind, especially not someone named Coriolanus Snow who offers you his arm, his smile, and treats in secret.

Word Count: 5270

notes: yandere, abusive relationship, non-graphic descriptions of torture and death (not against reader); uses a mixture of book and movie canon

The Capitol was not as dazzling as your father described it but then, he had seen it before the war. Though perhaps it was your own bitterness that made you ignore the signs of returning prosperity that sets it above everywhere else.

The repaired elaborate buildings, the fresh pungent smell of plaster and paint. The cars pumping exhaust fumes into the air. The low rumble of garbage trucks that pick up bright green garbage cans, some of which are actually teeming with plastic trash bags. Such waste was unheard of, even in the oh-so-loyal District 2, where only the lowest of the low find themselves starving.

Although not-starving didn’t mean that everything was plentiful.

You, though, were lucky enough to avoid the lima bean heavy diet that some of your classmates (now former--graduation was months ago) lived on. Or were you? The meat that graced your family’s dinner table, the pats of butter on toast, were all courtesy of your father’s immense talent in building creative weapons that allowed the Capitol to stamp out every last bit of rebellion in the Districts. That allowed them to regain control. That allowed them to create the Hunger Games.

Which is why you were in the Capitol now. Oh, not to participate in them. Your father’s status in District 2 had seen to that; it would be a scandal if the name of his beloved daughter were to ever be pulled.

You were there because your father had been given a lucrative contract, one that was sure to cement your family’s wealth for generations: a contract to build high-tech weapons for the Hunger Games themselves.

They would still be killing. But on a much smaller scale, you supposed, than the weapons your father designed during the war.

Still. Blood was blood. And if it had to be spilled, well, there was nothing you could do about it except hope they died quickly. Especially the ones from District 2.

Last year’s Games’ had been awful enough. Your family had watched the Games on a modest television set in the privacy of your living room, sent courtesy of the Capitol.

You wondered if you would ever get the sight of Marcus’ battered, bloated face from your mind; if you would ever unhear the way his body thumped to the ground when that girl had killed him, out of mercy. If you would ever stop imagining what it must have felt like in those last moments.

But it wasn’t all horror. You’d liked Lucy Gray well enough, even though she was from 12. She had a wild way of dressing and the singing--it was practically theatrical, compared to what you’d heard about the previous games.

Maybe that was why your father got this contract: theatrics. Maybe the games would be more dramatic from now on. Maybe they wanted tributes like Lucy Gray, who sang and spit and poisoned her way to Victory. It was strange, really, that there’d been hardly any talk of her since her win.

“Father?” You asked, quietly as you could.

Both of you were standing in the foyer of the grand university in the Capitol. The outside was still a little ravaged, but inside, it was perfectly lovely. Walls lined with books--perhaps some of them were fake--and marble floors and marble busts dotting the sight lines.

“Mm?” He replied, eyes scanning over his clipboard. He flips it, here and there.

“I was just thinking. About last year’s games. About Lucy Gray, and how the Games--”

Your father rounded on you, eyes suddenly serious and blazing.

“Quiet. Weren’t you paying attention on the way here?” Admittedly, you were not. You’d been daydreaming about what you might do now that you were done with school. There was no university in District 2, and your father hadn’t even mentioned a job. “You’re not supposed to mention--”

“Not supposed to mention whom? Ah, ah, ah. Lucy Gray Baird?” called a voice, almost in sing-song.

Your father stood up stiff, and the life seemed to drain from his face.

Both of you look towards the sound of the voice, and now it’s your turn to stiffen. The voice came from a woman standing in the doorway of the very office that your father was waiting to enter. She was wearing an elaborate jacket made of what looked like rainbow snake scales. Her hair was gray and curly. She had, you realized, two different colored eyes.

Your father swallowed, and you could see the apple of it bob up and down. It made you think, abruptly, of suckling pigs.

“Dr. Gaul,” he said, in a voice far too tight to be relaxed. “I apologize for my daughter’s insubordination, I assure you, she meant no--”

Dr. Gaul waved her hands at him and approached you.

“Did you like last year’s games?” She didn’t look angry. No, she looked delighted.

“I…” It was your turn to swallow, your turn to feel that tightness. “It-it was the first time I’ve watched them, ma’am.” You want to ask this woman: do you think I liked watching someone from my District 2 so horribly? Or any District, really? Did I like it?

Her smile grew wider.

“I’m glad. You’ll be watching them every year from now on, I hope. We have big plans.” Her eyebrows raised high. “Big changes. Thanks to men like your father.” She glanced at him and you saw disdain flicker across her gaze.

And then another door opened, and you heard the sound of polished shoes on the marble floor. Dr. Gaul’s attention dropped away from you like you were nothing at all. She turned to meet the sound of these footsteps, and you did too.

It was a young man. Probably your age, you thought, with light blonde hair and eyes that your mother would have described as “baby blue.” He didn’t look at you, or your father. But that was nothing new. You’d only been in the Capitol for 2 days, and you’d already gotten used to being treated as lesser than. Though, at least, you were not so far down on the food chain that you lost your tongue.

“Ah, my protege,” said Dr. Gaul, giving the young man a grin. The smile on her face almost looked warm, which was somehow far more terrifying than her manic smile from earlier. “Ever the earnest student. Aren’t you supposed to be enjoying the day off, Mr. Snow?”

The young man, this “Snow,” chuckled and lowered his gaze. “I couldn’t stay away once I heard you were discussing some of the new prototypes for this year’s games.”

He finally looked at your father, and then at you. But only briefly.

“Can I assume that this is…?”

Dr. Gaul nodded.

“Yes. My little designer from District 2. And his daughter.” Her voice dropped a few octaves when she referred to you. She probably didn’t want you here, you thought. You weren’t supposed to come, but your father had begged the Capitol for a pass; it would probably be your only chance to see it, he said, so you may as well take advantage of the chance.

Snow nodded to your father. It was a surprising gesture, almost respectful. But cold, too, like it was done from necessity rather than anything else.

Your father stammered a bit and nodded back, and you felt shame begin to creep into your bones. It wasn’t fair, to be lesser-than. But weren’t others lesser-than you in your own District, where you ate better food and never worried that your name would get picked, that your blood would be spilled?

Everyone

But when Snow turned to you, he smiled. It gave him dimples.

It was the first kind smile anyone in the Capitol gave you.

“My name is Coriolanus Snow. I doubt you’ve heard of me, but if Dr. Gaul’s teachings have anything to say about it, perhaps one day you’ll know me as a Gamemaker.”

You didn’t know what to say. Congratulations, one day you’ll be coordinating Games that kill people? Instead, you gave your name, voice squeakier than you meant it. But it was fitting, you supposed. Here, you were a mouse, hoping you would get a bite of cheese and make it home unpoisoned.

Dr. Gaul’s face seemed to react slowly, as if she couldn’t decide what she thought about his words or your interaction, but a small smile grew on it, eventually. “I do have high hopes for you, Mr. Snow. Now, shall we?”

She gestured for your father to follow, face once again impassive with a sprinkle of disdain, as she led the two of them into her office.

Snow gave you a smile and a nod before he left.

You waved, stupidly.

Your father didn’t even look back.

I’m dead. I’m dead. I might as well be dead.

Your heartbeat kept time with your racing thoughts as you went up and down corridors, begging your shoes to be silent, wishing your breath would catch and stop coming out in terrible pants.

You were lost. You weren’t where you were supposed to be. If someone found you, if the wrong person found you, they would think you were running, trying to get lost in the Capitol; they’d think you were a rebel. They’d shoot you.

Just when you thought you might collapse and die from your own nervous exhaustion, you heard the most wonderful sound in the world.

Your name.

It was only the moment after that you realized it didn’t come from your father’s mouth, but the lips of--what his name--Coriolanus Snow. The young man who was a Gamemaker-in-training, or so your father said. But that’s all he would say. He kept tight about anything that went on behind closed doors.

But this Coriolanus Snow smiled at you, and didn’t look at you like you were some kind of insect he might want to pin on a board, and so when you whirled around to look at him you were smiling.

Ah--for a moment. For just a moment, you saw his muscles tense. You saw the expression on his face falter in worry. Like he thought he was about to miss a step on a staircase, and corrected himself; like he thought you were a wolf and you were only somebody’s dog, off their leash.

But it wasn’t too surprising. You knew most people in the Capitol thought anyone from the Districts wanted to rip out their throats.

Well, the worry was mutual. Except in your case, you were forced to walk around with the living proof of that worry--all those “Avoxes,” they called them. Without tongues, without freedom.

But you swallow all that. Because he smiled at you. Because maybe it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend. Especially right now.

“I’m--I’m lost,” you tell him, giving a shaky smile. “I was waiting for my father, but you see, I got to thinking, and I started to wander around and now I’m… well. I don’t know where I am, actually.”

His smile wasn’t very deep, was it? It was like the gloss of paint on the outside of the Capitol buildings. Pretty to look at, but there must be more underneath.

You expected him to lead you right back to where you’re supposed to be.

Instead, he asked you something.

“What were you thinking about?

You couldn’t tell him. Could you? But something about

“About… the Games.”

You don’t tell him that you were thinking about Lucy Gray and all those snakes, and the way that Dr. Gaul’s outfit that first day made you think of them. Because your father had slapped you across the face when you got back to your lodgings that night, and told you to never, ever bring up Lucy Gray Baird or the 10th Games unless you were directly asked. And you would probably never be asked.

Coriolanus gave a little snort through his nose. You liked it. It was nice to know that even Capitol people could seem a little dorky.

“They aren’t for another 3 months. Are you that eager to see them?”

You didn’t know what expression you made, exactly. It was so instinctive and fast that you didn’t have time to control it.

You only knew that it made him shake his head and offer you a sympathetic look.

“I apologize. That was rude, wasn’t it?”

And then he did a strange thing.

He offered you his arm.

Like you were Capitol, like you were a real person, and not some visiting District wench walking on the coattails of her arms-dealing father.

“Let me walk you back to the waiting area.”

And the stranger thing?

You took it.

You and your father were quickly moved into a small apartment within the university, once it became clear that he would be staying in the Capitol through the duration of the Games. It was best, he said, because ordinary people in the Capitol didn’t really want to see new faces from the Districts mingling around unless their tongue had been cut out first. It made them nervous. The rebel bombings, and all that.

You didn’t mind, because it meant you didn’t have to be flanked by Peacekeepers on the streets.

And, well.

You got to see Coriolanus more often. Sometimes he greeted you, sometimes he didn’t. He did it less often when Dr. Gaul was there, unless she was talking to your father and it gave him an opportunity.

He asked you things, too, when he caught you walking back to your father’s little apartment. Like what you did back home. What you liked to do. Whether you went to school, and what you planned to do now that you have graduated.

This morning, he caught you drawing while you waited in a chair outside Dr. Gaul’s office. Sometimes you waited there--you would admit to no one that it was to catch a glimpse of the kindest person you’d met in the Capitol--and other times you stayed in your temporary home.

“What are you drawing?” He asked. But he had a way of speaking that you’d quickly clocked into. He can make a demand sound like a polite little question. Oh, he wasn’t mean about it, but it reminded you of the way your father talked to his underlings back in District 2. On his home turf, he was far smoother than he was here, where his voice stammered and sweat beaded on his neck.

So you handed it over, even though, to your greatest embarrassment, you’d drawn… him.

“Why me?” He had a smile on his lips. His smiles were nice. Kind. The kindest you’d seen since you came here. But they always felt like that fresh coat of paint; like you didn’t know what he really meant by them, and that was how he liked it.

“You’re… important,” is all you could come up with. You felt small, then. He would dismiss and probably never want to talk to you again. What a stupid answer from a stupid girl.

But he just smiled. It was like paint peeling a little. You could see underneath that he liked what you said, although you weren’t exactly sure why. And his expression tightened up so quickly, protecting what you’d seen, that you weren’t entirely sure if it was real or not.

“I’m just a humble student at this university. Not so important. Not yet.”

You were really going to die, now. This wasn’t some panicked imagination gone wrong, some flight of fancy that took a wrong turn.

A pair of stony-faced Peacekeepers had walked up to where you sat in the waiting area near Dr. Gaul’s office and ordered you to come with them.

You asked to talk to your father. They said no. You asked where you were going. They yanked you up.

And now they were leading you down hallways that you’d never seen before, where there weren’t even Avoxes roaming the halls with brooms and dustpans.

They didn’t even answer, just spun around and walked back the way they came. You pushed the door open reluctantly--what the hell was going to be on the other side?--and it was--it was--

It was Coriolanus. Standing there in a nice suit, eyes downcast on a book. Until the door creaked and he looked up.

“What--why did you bring me here? Did I do something wrong?” The thought went through you, that perhaps this had all been a test, to see if you were loyal to the Capitol and he’d found you wanting.

“No,” he said, simply enough. He set the book down and gestured for you to step inside. You did, because what else were you going to do, in some strange room in a Capitol University where you’d been forcibly brought by Peacekeepers.

Snow studied your face. Your eyes darted around, from him, to the room, to the door.

“I wanted to see you,” he said, a little softer. “In private.”

“Me?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “But… why?”

He smiled. “Come now, you’re a smart girl, even if you aren’t in university.”

You really didn’t know. Not at first. But then you watched the way his expression softened, and you remembered it, or glimpses of it, that he’d given you before. When he complimented your drawing. When he said your name. When he escorted you back from the maze of hallways. And his smiles, all his smiles, although you were never sure how much they meant coming from home.

He took a step closer. You didn’t dare step back. You weren’t sure if you wanted to step back, but it didn’t matter, either way.

He pressed his lips to yours and took your first kiss, in a secluded little study in the heart of the Capitol University.

Your days became routine, although the routine was strictly forbidden and could have probably gotten you executed or at best, gotten you a one-way ticket to a tasteless existence.

You wake up. You stay in your apartment. You wait for the Peacekeepers. You get summoned here and there, always private rooms, secret rooms, rooms out of the way. You meet Snow--Coriolanus, he said, call him that--and you talk (well, mostly him) and kiss and sometimes a little bit more. He gives you gifts. Trinkets, necklaces that you can only wear under your shirt. Food, flaky pastries made with mountains of sugar, sandwiches made with cream and cucumber.

But how much longer could it go on? The Games were going to start soon. As soon as they were over, you were going back to your District. There would be no more meetings, no more kisses. No more wondering how far he wanted to go or why he liked you or even if he even liked you as anything more than someone to keep him busy.

You didn’t dare talk about the Games, but you did talk about this. In the kindest way you knew how for such a sensitive subject.

“I’ll miss you,” you told Coriolanus after one meeting, when you’re both sitting on a sofa and he’s got your fingers tightly wound in his. He squeezed them tight.

“Miss me?”

“After the Games,” you clarified. “We’re being sent home right after.”

He squeezed your fingers until it hurt a little. Then he looked up at you. To see if you would say something? Or did he not know how strong he was?

“Oh, that. I can arrange for you to stay.”

Your chest began to feel sick.

“Stay? In the Capitol?” You were torn about Coriolanus, but you didn’t want to stay here. You couldn’t.

“Yes,” he said, as if it was the simplest answer in the world. “You wouldn’t be the first person from the District granted such an extreme privilege. I’m sure I could--”

“But I don’t know if I want to stay.”

His gaze narrowed and you felt your stomach clench. He looked at the necklace you’d pulled out as soon as the door was shut, at your lips where a dollop of strawberry cream still rested.

“I treat you so well, and you don’t know if you want to stay with me?”

His voice was calm, and that scared you. It would have been better if he flew off the handle.

Instead, he simply stood up and gently sent you out the door, and called the Peacekeepers to bring you back to your apartment.

Every night for the last week, you have cried yourself to sleep. Because every day for the last week, Coriolanus Snow has not sent for you. Not even once.

What if he told someone? What if you got sent back early, and your father was shamed? What if they broke his contract? Or--worse, worse, worse. There were so many worse things than merely being sent back to District 2.

And then he sent for you, and it was the longest walk of your life, though it was no farther than any of the times you’ve been escorted to your secret meetings.

This time, when you pushed open the door, Coriolanus was not alone.

There was an Avox in the room.

It was someone from District 2.

You didn’t know her. Not personally. But you saw her, before. She worked in one of the munitions factories and you watched her walk to work from your classroom window sometimes. Then she stopped showing up, and you thought perhaps she got married.

That delusion was shattered the moment you saw her, eyes downcast to the floor, wearing a simple gray tunic.

It’s not until Coriolanus tells you to hurry up and come in that you’re able to move. Even then, you weren’t sure how your body did it; how your arms managed to gain the mobility to shut the door, to twist the lock; how your legs moved, one foot in front of the other, until you were standing stiffly in front of him.

The Avox--you wish you knew her name, but she couldn’t give it to you now, even if you asked--moved seamlessly to a table set up nearby. There was tea and sweets. The sort of thing that you and Coriolanus had been enjoying together for the past few weeks. The sort of thing that you were sure would sit sour in your stomach, now.

The cup shook in your hands when she handed it to you, and your tears dripped right into the tea.

Coriolanus glanced at the Avox and waved his hand. She left obediently. She would never tell the secret she witnessed in his room, that much was certain.

And then he looked back at you.

“Don’t cry,” he said. Soft but firm. A command, not a coo. “You shouldn’t cry here, in the Capitol. You should be grateful to be here. You should be grateful that I’ve arranged all this for you.”

“I am,” you whispered.

“Then show me that you are.”

And you did.

You said what he wanted and looked to him to show you how he wanted you to act, and did just that. You didn’t argue, even to lightly banter. You kissed him and nodded along when he told you about how things would be after the Games, when he had arranged for you to stay.

All you had to do was keep him happy until the Games were over, and then you could go home.

Bitterly, all of this made you realize just how much of your father is in you; he knew how to appease the Capitol. You could do the same with Coriolanus Snow. At least until the Games were over. Just keep him happy until the Games were done and the blood was spilled, and you would go home.

They wouldn’t let him keep you here after the games. You were sure of that. You’d overheard some of Dr. Gaul’s assistants murmuring how glad they would be to send the District profiteers like your father home once the Games were over. And you? You’re just his useless daughter, an appendage he brought like an unwelcome suitcase. Why would you be allowed to stay?

The Games were over. The winner was from District 1.

You were going home any day now. Just as soon as your father finished tinkering with the designs, gave his notes on improvements that might be made for next year.

The thought gave you a delightful bounce in your step. It was like having a pat of sweet butter in your shoe on a day when you needed good luck-- District 2 superstition, although the strict rationing meant most people didn’t have even a pat to slip into their shoes anymore.

The sweetness didn’t even disappear when the Peacekeepers showed up to bring you to Snow. It was going to be a bittersweet farewell, you were sure. He might be angry. But you would kiss him and tell him that there was nothing he could do, and how sorry you were not to be able to stay, but that was how things had to be.

Except they didn’t bring you down a maze of corridors that led to a secluded room.

They brought you right into Dr. Gaul’s office.

Breakfast threatened to evacuate your stomach with every step. Not just because of nerves, but because of what you saw. Rows of experiments in glass tubes; some of them move. You walk by a room with a half-open door that showed someone strapped to a gurney, face contorted in a silent scream as they fought against restraints. You almost did lose breakfast, then.

But somehow you made it to the desk of Dr. Gaul without a dribble of vomit to show for it.

The Peacekeepers left with no fanfare and you stood there, ramrod straight. Did she know? Was she going to tell you that you were going to be strapped to one of those gurneys, now?

“I’m keenly aware,” she said, keeping her hands primly folded, “on how much you’ve enthralled my star pupil.”

Toast. That’s what will come up first, you thought . The toast.

“I don’t know what you mean, ma’am.” Your voice was so thin and tinny that you didn’t even believe yourself.

And then the prim facade cracked, and Dr. Gaul threw her head back and grinned.

“You really think I don’t know everything that goes on within these walls? I know every time one of my lab assistants runs into the bathroom to throw up after a particularly nasty experiment. I know every time one of our university professors sneaks into a closet to down a vial of morphling with a student. And I certainly know when my newest protege is having an adorable little District girl brought to him for… canoodling.”

You weren’t even embarrassed. No. You just felt terrified to the bone. You only hoped that you’d be killed, shot against a wall, instead of made into an Avox. Let there be some mercy in this world.

”He’s asked to keep you, you know.” Her voice was low, almost a drawl. She tapped her fingers on her desk rhythmically.

“My Coriolanus Snow wants a bird of his own.” Her smile turned darker. “Not a songbird, though. Oh, no. I think he’s had enough of those.”

Her gaze bored into yours, each color magnified by her intense expression. “I think if I let him have his pretty caged bird, he’ll be happy. He’s more productive if he’s happy.” She smiled. “I like productivity. It keeps the Games more interesting.”

She looked you over one more time, and then waved you away.

“I’ve granted his request. You’ll be staying here indefinitely, courtesy of one Mr. Snow. Your father has already been told.”

You were wrong.

It was not the toast that came up first, but the sweet butter you’d patted on top.

You still had your tongue, but you felt as though it was useless, stuck to the roof of your mouth, as Coriolanus fussed over your outfit. Or rather, as he directed an Avox to fuss over it for you. He could afford his own personal servant, now, he told you. He’d almost flinched after he said now, and you didn’t dare press him on it. Had he not been able to afford one before?

“We can’t walk arm-in-arm in public,” he said, walking around you, making sure the outfit was just-right. “But you can stand by me if I stop and direct you forward.” He reached over and fixed one of your buttons. “Don’t speak to anyone unless I’ve told you to, or they speak to you first. Always address someone older as ‘sir,’ or ‘ma’am.” He pointed at your hair, and the Avox began to fuss with it, eventually covering it in a colorful wrap that Coriolanus said was popular right now. “Address someone our age by the last name and Mr. or Ms.”

When he was satisfied with your appearance, he sent the Avox away. You liked it better that way, it was one last reminder of the horrors in the Capitol, even for someone “privileged” like you. You’d only been without your father for 3 days, but you felt like your nerves were continually on fire. You wanted to go home. You wanted your family. You wanted out of this place.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

For now, you were still living in the small university apartment the Capitol had given your father. Coriolanus insisted on it, until he could figure out how to move you into his own sprawling apartment that he shared with his cousin, Tigris (who, at least, genuinely sounded lovely) and his grandmother, Grandma’am. She was the sticking point, or so you were told, with a thin smile. She hated Districts, and she ought to, he said. They killed her son. His father.

She would hate you, too. Even if Coriolanus wanted you enough to make you stay with him; wanted you enough to keep you. But for how long? And would he change his mind, if you couldn’t fit in?

He said your name, and you snapped yourself out of your thoughts. He held you by your shoulders. Gently. Like one would an unruly child that hadn’t yet learned that there were such things as salad forks and dinner forks, as polite conversation and etiquette.

You got the feeling you wouldn’t have long to learn all of those things and more, to make him happy.

“Remember,” he said. “You’re District. You’re here because the Capitol has recognized that your loyalty can benefit us in some way. Be grateful.”

“I am,” you said, reflectively.

“Be happy..”

“I am,” you said again, your chest hitching.

He smiled at you. Was it real or not real?

You smiled back, regardless. And he liked that, evidently, because he leaned forward and kissed you. Then he scrutinized your face and wiped at your lips with his thumb--the kiss had smeared your lipstick.

“Good.”

He gestured towards the open doorway. This time, he didn’t take your arm. There would be too many people lingering in the university hallways, all making their way to the soiree held to celebrate the end of this year’s Games and discuss what improvements might be made for the next year.

You dutifully walked behind him, just like he said. And you would do exactly what he said in all respects. You would stay quiet unless you were spoken to, you would certainly never bring up anything confrontational or controversial, and you would make a good impression. You would be a loyal, grateful District citizen who was given the opportunity of a lifetime thanks to the graciousness of Coriolanus Snow.

Of course you would.

Your life depended on it.

#yandere coriolanus snow #yandere hunger games #yandere #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes #/slaps trunk #this baby can fit so many references to the books & movie in it.#... well not SO MANY #but enough

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copperbadge · 2 months

Note

How did you find the doctor(s) who assessed you for ADHD? Im looking into the process of getting diagnosed because (although ive suspected I might have adhd for years now) I've been struggling a lot more lately and i want to try medication to see if it helps at all. Im trying to search for psychiatrists through my health insurance portal but the the results im getting are all for child/adolescent psychiatry specialists, and I dont think that'll be much help for an adult adhd assessment? Did you have an established therapist to refer you for your assessment or were you able to find a psychiatrist independently?

I actually just kind of had to freeform it, but that does mean I have some tips to share!

I will say, I have never once used a health insurance portal to find someone to treat me for anything. Often their search engine is fucked up and the information is sometimes out of date. I almost always either ask someone who I know has had similar issues if they have a recommendation, ask my treating physician if I have one, or just google until I find someone reputable-looking; any qualified medical center or professional will list what insurance they take anyway, and you can always ask when you make the appointment.

So here's the process for how to do that!

When I was first considering it, I asked a friend who'd had an evaluation that came back not-ADHD, which I liked because it meant we knew it wasn't like, a weird Adderall pill mill or something. I really wanted to have a professional and thorough evaluation because I knew myself and knew I was capable of gaming a questionnaire. The place she had her evaluation was unfortunately having some staffing issues; part of the reason it took me so long is that I played phone tag with them for ages -- I'd call, and regardless of what time of day I called, their scheduler would be "out", so I'd leave a message and never get a call back. Ultimately I said "I really need to talk to a human, because your scheduler has not returned any of my numerous calls" and they said they could transfer me to another office outside of Chicago (in the burbs). That was not going to be accessible to me, so I told them thanks but I'll go somewhere else. Then COVID hit and I was not going to go anywhere near a medical center unless I had to for about two years.

So, when I was making my second serious run at getting evaluated, I did what might be expected of me by longtime readers of this blog: I made a spreadsheet.

I want to caveat this up top with REALLY IMPORTANT CONTEXT: I did not do all of this in a single day. The process from starting research to making an evaluation appointment took about a month, and probably would have taken longer if I wasn't getting somewhat desperate. Do not push yourself to do this as a single act. Research alone is a multi-day process; some days I looked at the open tabs and only entered one tab's worth of information. It took me quite a bit of time to write the form email I sent inquiring about an assessment. It took me time to call the clinic back when they asked me to call to book the appointment. This is a series of steps, not a single leap.

So!

I was looking for a clinic rather than an individual, in part because I'd heard a couple of horror stories about people who went to a psychiatrist and just got argued with for an hour instead of actually getting evaluated. So I googled, and here are some key terms for you, chicago adult adhd assessment. Chicago obviously for the region, but "adult adhd" (putting it in quotes will help) is the important term that will help you filter out a lot of child psych stuff. A lot of what I looked at did included family or child assessment/therapy but were clear that they also evaluated adults.

Then I went through every legit-looking search result and noted down, in my spreadsheet, the name of the clinic/company, the contact phone and email, the URL, the physical location (I needed to be able to get to it fairly easily) and whether they took my insurance. Even if they didn't take my insurance (all but one did) I still put them into the spreadsheet so that if I found them again I could check the sheet and know I didn't need to investigate further. I also tended to bump more legitimate and friendly-looking places to the top of the sheet. And if I were going to do it again I would also look for one specific thing, which is an assessment guide of some kind.

The assessment guide may be something they only give you after you speak with them, so it's not a no-go if they don't have one on their website, but it basically tells you what generally will go on during the assessment, how long it will take, and what you should bring. A full assessment like I had is estimated to take 4-6 hours and they recommended I wear layers so I wouldn't be overly cold/warm in their office, and to bring a snack. That's the kind of information you want, duration of the assessment and what they recommend for you, to ensure that you're working with people who are thorough and care about your comfort.

So, I have this spreadsheet now of places to reach out to, which I know take my insurance and do adult assessment. In the spreadsheet I also had columns for what date I contacted them and whether they'd responded. I started reaching out via email, one per day, with the form email I'd written.

The form email basically said "I'm 42 with no previous diagnosis but I have a family history of autism and dyslexia. I've been told I should get assessed for ADHD, so I'm looking for a clinic that will do the assessment and takes (my insurance). I prefer to be contacted by email but if need be, my phone number is (phone number). Please let me know if you have any open appointments and what information you will need from me to book an evaluation with you." (You can always ask for more information about the actual evaluation process once they respond.)

If I didn't get a response within 24 hours, I moved on to the next, but I only greyed out the text in that line of the spreadsheet; I didn't disqualify/remove the nonresponsive ones because again, I wanted to make sure I kept that information in case they eventually did respond. I did this with about ten clinics, because I figured I must be able to find at least one in ten who could do the eval, and I could go back and research more if necessary.

I think the third or fourth one I reached out to was the first to respond, and I ended up going with them; I had a very positive experience in the assessment itself but it was a real pain in the ass getting the documentation from them -- they took about a month to go through the evaluation data (this is not abnormal but is rather longer than usual according to my psychiatrist) and they gave me an in-person-by-zoom report once it was ready. That said, it took another four months and the threat of reporting them to the state to get them to send me the text of the eval (in part because the evaluator left the clinic unexpectedly with my formal report not yet written). But that's something that's truly impossible to know until you're working with them, and highly unusual, so don't let concerns about that deter you. If you end up in that situation come hit me up and I'll tell you how I dealt with that.

My eval recommended an executive function coach, but if I haven't been able to func it by now I never will, so I thanked them for the recommendation and went looking for a psychiatrist unaffiliated with the clinic to prescribe me meds. There, the key words you're going to be looking for are again "adult adhd" but also "adult disability" and if you want medication that's less likely to be a huge fucking hassle, "medication management". My psychiatrist and I meet every two months to reup my prescription, but he doesn't require me to take a regular drug test or meet him in person in order to get a new scrip, as some people have encountered. We meet in person once or twice a year (I can't remember, it's due to a legal requirement in Illinois) but otherwise it's over zoom.

So yeah -- it's a process, but there are ways to streamline and manage it, and a few tripwires in place to make sure you don't end up screwed by the system. Definitely feel free to ask if you have questions, either here or if you want a more indepth conversation you can email me at [email protected]. GOOD LUCK!

#sam has adhd #adhd #evaluation

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tosomeonessomeone · 7 months

Text

f*cking mine.

words・ 5.8k /pairings・ Vampire Lee know x Afab!reader / genres・ thrilling?/ warnings・ intercourse, mentions of alcoholic drinks and drugs, minors DNI.

Hello lovely ones! At last, it has arrived ✨ I might have gotten a bit carried away with the plot and added some extra spice 😅, so if you’re underaged, you know the drill. 🐈‍⬛ anon, hope you enjoy it! Ps. yes.. I did a mood board for this fic.

YN and her friends eagerly embarked on their October adventure, seeking the thrill of Halloween in the heart of an eerie forest. Nestled among the trees stood their chosen sanctuary: a rustic cabin, beckoning with promises of mystery and excitement.

As the night deepened, laughter mingled with the rustle of leaves outside. After a lot of booze and a couple joints, truth or dare became their group game of choice, fueling the evening with daring challenges and revealing confessions. Amidst the flickering candlelight, an irresistible dare emerged from the shadows.

One of YN's friends, eyes glinting mischievously, proposed the ultimate challenge: to explore the forbidden path marked by a foreboding sign that declared, "road not taken." The warning was clear, but so was the allure of the unknown.

Despite the lingering doubt, YN felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins, heightened by the warmth of intoxication.

As YN stepped cautiously along the winding trail, her friends' voices lingered in her mind, their laughter echoing through the dense foliage like a distant melody.

"I can't believe you're actually doing this, YN!" Ella’s voice chimed in her memory, tinged with a hint of disbelief.

"Yeah, this is like straight out of a horror movie," remarked Mia, her tone laced with excitement.

YN couldn't help but chuckle at the thought, her breath forming a misty cloud in the cool night air. "Well, what's life without a little adventure, right?"

"True that," came Hyo’s voice, her tone filled with encouragement. "Just don't get lost out there, okay? We don't need a real-life Blair Witch situation on our hands."

The mention of the infamous horror film elicited nervous laughter from YN, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. "Don't worry, I'll find my way back," she reassured them, her voice carrying a note of determination.

With determined steps, YN ventured into the darkness, guided by the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the dense canopy above. Each footfall echoed against the forest floor, mingling with the whispers of ancient trees and the flutter of unseen creatures.

The path stretched before her, winding deeper into the heart of the forest with every passing moment. Shadows danced on the edges of her vision, casting doubt and uncertainty upon her path.

The forest enveloped her in its embrace, shrouding her senses in a cloak of mystery and wonder. Every rustle of leaves, every creak of branches, held the promise of adventure and danger intertwined.

As she ventured further along the winding trail, the night itself seemed to hold its breath, anticipation hanging heavy in the air. Yet, despite the whispers of caution that echoed in her mind, YN pressed on, driven by an insatiable thirst for discovery.

YN ventured deeper into the forest, her footsteps echoing against the tangled undergrowth, she stumbled upon another cabin, its weathered facade a stark contrast to the one she and her friends called home for the night. The sight of the aged structure sent a shiver down her spine, its timeworn exterior whispering tales of long-forgotten secrets and untold mysteries.

Pausing at the foot of the rickety stairs, YN couldn't help but feel a surge of curiosity tugging at her senses. The door, oddly ajar, beckoned to her like a siren's call, promising a glimpse into the unknown depths of the past. For a moment, she hesitated, torn between the allure of exploration and the lingering sense of caution that gnawed at her conscience.

"Okay, YN, let's not get too carried away here," she murmured to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. "This is definitely starting to feel like something out of a horror movie."

As YN turned to leave, her heart skipped a beat as she was startled to find a man standing at the foot of the steps, his presence looming like a shadow against the fading light of dusk. In the dimness, his features were cast in obscurity, a silhouette shrouded in mystery and intrigue.

Frozen in place, YN's eyes traced the outline of the stranger's figure, noting the striking contrast of his dark hair against the pallor of his skin. His attire, adorned with chains that glinted in the fading light, spoke of a persona both enigmatic and alluring, drawing her gaze inexorably towards his face.

Caught off guard by his sudden appearance, YN struggled to find her voice amidst the silence that hung heavy between them. And as the stranger's gaze met hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine, he spoke, his voice a low murmur that echoed in the stillness of the forest.

"Can I help you?" His words, tinged with an air of mystery, hung in the air like a question waiting to be answered, his eyes searching hers for some semblance of recognition or understanding.

Summoning her courage, YN met the stranger's gaze with a steadiness born of determination. "I... I was just exploring," she replied, her voice trembling slightly with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. "I didn't mean to intrude."

As the words tumbled from her lips, YN found herself caught in the currents of a moment suspended in time, the air alive with the promise of possibility and the lingering scent of uncertainty.

"Uhh..." YN hesitated, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "I was dared to travel down the trail..." Her words faltered as she reached out to steady herself against the door frame, the weight of the man's scrutiny bearing down upon her.

As the man's gaze lingered on her, YN felt a flush of embarrassment color her cheeks, acutely aware of the disapproval etched into his features. His raised eyebrow spoke volumes, a silent accusation that hung heavy in the air between them.

"So you thought you could explore my house, huh?" The man's words cut through the silence like a knife, his tone laced with thinly veiled contempt.

YN mumbled her explanation, a quick shake of her head accompanied her apology. "No, just the trail. I apologize, I wasn’t going to enter,” she muttered, her voice quivering with a mixture of fear and apprehension.

The man stood there, his gaze piercing through her, his silence hanging heavy in the air like a looming storm. Seconds passed like eternities as YN waited, her nerves on edge, her senses heightened to the slightest movement.

"You do realize that you’re lucky to come across me here. These woods are not a safe place for a young girl like you to be wandering all alone," he murmured, his words a somber reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

YN swallowed hard, her throat dry with fear, her mind racing with a myriad of possibilities. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon her, the realization sinking in that she stood on the precipice of something far more sinister than she had ever imagined.

Then, with deliberate steps, the man began to approach her slowly, each footfall echoing ominously in the stillness of the night. YN's heart raced as she felt the weight of his presence bearing down upon her, making it difficult for her to even lift her gaze to meet his.

With each step backward, YN's heart pounded against her chest like a drumbeat of impending doom. The urge to flee surged within her, fueled by the primal instinct to escape the clutches of the unknown.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

As YN edged backward, her back hit the wall near the door, a momentary lapse that threatened to plunge her into the depths of uncertainty. Her pulse quickened, her breath caught in her throat, as she teetered on the brink of danger. The rough texture of the wall against her skin served as a stark reminder of the confined space, trapping her in the predator's den.

He stopped just in front of her, his figure towering over her like a specter in the moonlight. His voice, soft yet laden with an undercurrent of warning, sent shivers down YN's spine.

Every fiber of her being screamed for escape as she stood pinned against the barrier, her senses heightened to the looming threat that loomed before her.

Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts, each one a desperate plea for escape, as she stood frozen in the shadow of his presence. The weight of his touch pressed against her, a tangible reminder of the darkness that lurked within the depths of the forest.

"These are my woods,” he leaned in, whispering close to her ears.

YN's voice trembled as she whispered, her words echoing in the stillness of the night. "Y-your woods?" she repeated, her disbelief palpable in the quiver of her tone.

The man's response sent a chill down her spine, his voice dripping with possessiveness and entitlement. "Yes, dear, my woods," he murmured, his words a chilling reminder of the power he held over the domain in which they stood. "This place belongs to me, and anyone who wanders in is fair game for me to play with."

YN's breath caught in her throat, the weight of his words sinking in like an anchor dragging her deeper into the abyss. The realization dawned on her with a sickening clarity: she was at the mercy of a predator, a wolf among sheep, lurking in the darkness of the forest.

In that moment, fear and defiance warred within her, each vying for dominance over her trembling form.

"Would you like to know my name, darling?" His voice was a sinister whisper, laden with promises of power and submission. "I shall warn you, however, that once you say it, you will become subservient to my every whim and bound to serve me."

Her heart hammered against her chest as he spoke, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air like a dark cloud. YN's mind raced with uncertainty, torn between the allure of knowledge and the fear of what it might entail.

As he stepped back, giving her space to consider his offer, YN felt the weight of his gaze bearing down upon her. His challenge hung in the air like a dare, tempting her to take the plunge into the unknown.

"Are you brave enough to take on the challenge?" His words echoed in the stillness of the night, a test of her courage and resilience in the face of overwhelming darkness.

With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity coursing through her veins, YN summoned her courage and faced the man with the glowing red eyes. Despite the warning echoing in her mind, she couldn't resist the pull of the unknown, the tantalizing allure of discovering his name.

"I... I want to… know your name," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her heart pounding with anticipation and fear.

With a sly smile curling his lips, the man leaned in closer, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly intensity. "My name is Lee Minho, but for a sweet thing like you, you can call me Minho," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent a shiver down YN's spine.

As the revelation of Minho's name hung in the air like a shroud of darkness, YN felt a momentary lull in the tension that gripped the forest. The weight of his identity settled upon her like a heavy cloak, its implications stretching far beyond the confines of the haunted woods.

In the stillness of the night, Minho regarded her with a knowing smile, his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. Yet, amidst the shadows that danced around them, a spark of curiosity ignited within him.

"And what, may I ask, is your name, my dear?" Minho's voice carried a hint of amusement, his words tinged with a sense of intrigue.

YN hesitated for a moment, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily upon her. Yet, in the face of the unknown, she summoned her courage and met his gaze with determination.

"My name is YN," she replied, her voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling within her.

As the sound of her name echoed in the darkness, YN felt a sense of empowerment wash over her, a reminder of her own agency amidst the chaos that surrounded them.

In that moment, she knew that she had crossed a threshold from which there was no turning back. YN found herself inexplicably drawn to Minho, like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence. There was something about him that transcended the darkness surrounding him, something that spoke to the depths of her soul.

As she stood in his shadow, YN felt a strange sense of familiarity, as if she had known him in another life, in another time. His eyes held secrets untold, mysteries waiting to be unraveled, and despite the danger that lurked within their depths, she couldn't tear her gaze away.

With each moment that passed, the fear that once gripped her heart began to wane, replaced by a curious fascination that defied reason. There was an allure to Lee Minho, a darkness tempered by a glimmer of something more, something that called out to her in the depths of the night.

In his presence, YN felt a sense of belonging, a connection that transcended the boundaries of time and space. And as she stood on the precipice of the unknown, she knew that her fate was intertwined with his, bound by the threads of destiny that wove their way through the tapestry of their lives.

As YN's voice quivered with a mixture of fear and anticipation, she summoned the courage to voice the question that weighed heavily on her mind. "What are you going to do to me?" she asked, her words echoing in the stillness of the night, tinged with uncertainty.

Minho regarded her with an enigmatic smile, his gaze piercing through the shadows that enveloped them. There was a depth to his eyes, a wellspring of secrets and mysteries waiting to be unveiled.

"My dear YN," he began, his voice a melodic whisper that danced on the edge of the wind, "I am bound by the laws of this realm, as are you. What happens next is a journey that we must embark upon together, guided by the currents of fate."

His words held a cryptic resonance, a promise of truths yet to be revealed. YN felt a shiver run down her spine, the weight of his words settling upon her like a heavy cloak.

"In the heart of these woods, we will confront the shadows that linger within our souls," Minho continued, his voice a solemn declaration of intent. "But fear not, for I will be your guide, your protector, and your companion on this journey through the darkness."

As he spoke, YN's gaze lingered on Minho, a chill ran down her spine as she noticed something unsettling: his elongated canines, gleaming in the moonlight, betrayed his true nature—he was a vampire.

The realization struck her like a bolt of lightning, sending shockwaves of fear coursing through her veins. Her heart pounded with a mixture of terror and disbelief as she struggled to comprehend the truth before her.

Finally, YN found her voice, her words trembling with uncertainty. "What... what are you?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her eyes never leaving his.

Minho's smile widened, revealing his gleaming fangs in the moonlight. "I am what you fear most, my dear," he replied, his voice a velvet caress that sent shivers down YN's spine.

Fear and fascination warred within her, each vying for dominance over her trembling form. As Minho's gaze bore into YN's, his voice, smooth and velvety, pierced the silence like a dagger.

"Shall we have dinner?" he asked, his words laced with a subtle invitation that sent a chill down YN's spine.

Minho's question hung in the air, the weight of its implications echoing in the silence that enveloped them. YN's heart raced as she grappled with the surrealness of the moment, the reality of dining with a vampire sinking in like a heavy stone.

The invitation, so innocently posed yet laden with sinister undertones, sent a shiver down YN's spine. Her instincts screamed at her to refuse, to flee from the darkness that threatened to consume her.

With a trembling breath, YN met Lee Minho's gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I suppose so," she replied, her words tinged with uncertainty, her heart pounding in her chest.

And as they ventured deeper into the heart of his cabin, YN knew that the dinner they shared would be more than just a meal—it would be a dance of shadows and light, a journey into the depths of the unknown, where danger and desire intertwined in a delicate balance.

As they reached the dinning room lit in the soft glow of moonlight and a couple candles, Minho gestured towards a rustic wooden table set with an array of fruits and delicacies. "Please, have a seat," he said, his tone inviting yet tinged with an air of mystery.

YN hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with a thousand questions and uncertainties. But something about Minho's demeanor reassured her, drawing her closer to the table with a sense of cautious curiosity.

As they sat at the rustic wooden table, YN couldn't shake the sense of surrealness that hung in the air like a thick fog. Minho's presence, though captivating, sent shivers down her spine, a constant reminder of the darkness that lurked beneath his charming facade.

Minho poured a glass of deep red wine, his movements graceful and deliberate. "Please, indulge yourself," he said, offering the glass to YN with a small, enigmatic smile.

YN hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the glass, before finally accepting it with a nervous nod of thanks. As she took a sip, the rich, velvety taste flooded her senses, warming her from the inside out.

"So, YN," Minho began, his voice low and melodic, "tell me more about yourself. What secrets do you carry in that beautiful mind of yours?"

YN's heart raced as she searched for words, her thoughts a jumbled mess of fear and fascination. "I... I'm just a girl, really," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Nothing special."

As YN sat there, she couldn't shake the feeling of being nothing more than prey in the presence of a predator. His gaze, though captivating, held an intensity that sent a chill down her spine, a reminder of the darkness that lurked behind his charming facade.

Minho's eyes danced with amusement as he listened to YN's hesitant words, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile. "Just a girl, you say?" he mused, his voice a soft purr that sent shivers down her spine. "I find that hard to believe."

YN's heart raced as she met his gaze, her pulse quickening with each passing moment. She could feel the weight of his scrutiny, his eyes devouring her with a hunger that sent a thrill of fear and excitement coursing through her veins.

As they sat and dined in the flickering light of the moon, YN couldn't shake the feeling of being nothing more than a mere mortal in the presence of a creature far beyond her understanding. And as Minho's gaze lingered on her, she knew that she was merely a pawn in a game of shadows and light, a game where the stakes were higher than she could have ever imagined.

Minho got up at some point and walked closer, closing the distance between them, YN's heart thundered in her chest, her breath catching in her throat as she felt the heat of his body leaning over hers. Trapped between him and the chair, she could feel the weight of his presence pressing in on her, suffocating her with its intensity.

With a gentle touch, Minho reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek skin like a whisper of silk. YN's breath hitched at the contact, her senses ablaze with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

"Shh, my dear," Minho murmured, his voice a soft caress against her ear. "There's no need to be afraid."

As Minho's breath caressed YN's neck, she couldn't suppress the shiver that coursed through her body. His words, a whispered caress against her skin, sent a thrill of fear and excitement dancing along her spine.

“You smell viciously delicious," Minho murmured, his voice a low, seductive whisper that sent a shiver down YN's spine. "Makes me hot."

YN's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to find her voice, the intensity of the moment rendering her speechless. Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts, each one a tangled web of fear and desire.

"Wh-what do you mean?" YN stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with uncertainty.

Minho's eyes gleaming with a hunger that sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through YN's veins. "It means," he murmured, his voice dripping with temptation, "that you are unlike anything I've ever encountered before, you are special."

YN's eyebrows furrowed with confusion, her mind swirling with a whirlwind of emotions. "Wait.. what?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

Minho's lips curled into a knowing smile, his eyes shining with an otherworldly light. "I'm simply showing you the truth, my dear," he replied, his voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers down YN's spine. "The truth of who you really are… mine… my mate”

The air crackled with tension as YN felt the heat of his gaze upon her, his proximity igniting a firestorm of emotions within her. She could feel the weight of his words hanging in the air, each syllable laden with a hunger that sent her heart racing.

In that moment, YN's senses were overwhelmed by the heady scent of danger and desire that surrounded her. His words, though filled with a darkness she could scarcely comprehend, held a seductive power that she found herself unable to resist.

As Minho's tongue traced a soft line along YN's neck, a tremor of sensation rippled through her body, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through her veins. His touch, though gentle, ignited a firestorm of desire within her, awakening a primal instinct she never knew existed.

YN's breath caught in her throat as Minho's lips kissing a sweet spot near her ear, his kiss sending waves of heat cascading through her. In that moment, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the intoxicating allure of the night and the enigmatic figure who held her captive with his touch.

"Your skin," he whispered, his voice a soft caress in the night air, "it sings to me. A melody of temptation and longing."

YN's pulse quickening with each word that fell from his lips. She felt herself drowning in the depths of his gaze, lost in a world where desire and danger danced in a tantalizing embrace.

"In the darkness," he continued, his voice low and melodic, "we are free. Free to explore the depths of our desires, to succumb to the pull of the night."

With a graceful step backward, Minho gently took YN's hand, his touch sending a surge of electricity coursing through her veins. In the dim light of his cabin, his eyes gleamed with an otherworldly allure, drawing her deeper into the shadows.

"Come," he murmured, his voice a soft echo in the night, "there is much to discover.".

With a silent nod, YN followed Minho into the darkness, her heart ablaze with the promise of adventure and discovery. For in the depths through the walls, she would find the truest expression of herself, and the secrets that lay hidden in the depths of her soul.

Minho's touch was gentle yet possessive as he guided her through the labyrinthine corridors, each twist and turn a step deeper into the heart of the unknown.

And as they reached his room, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, YN felt a surge of anticipation course through her veins.

As she felt his grip tighten around her waist, YN's eyes widened, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and desire. The air crackled with tension as she met his gaze, her eyes searching for answers in the depths of his own.

As Minho's hand trailed from her side to her nape, she felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew that this kiss was going to be different, that it was going to be dangerous. And as his lips met hers in a slow burn kiss, she felt his fangs brush against her lower plump lip.

She knew that she should pull away, that she should resist the temptation that Minho offered. But she couldn't help herself. She was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

As his tongue slipped into her mouth, she tasted the danger and the passion that he offered. She knew that this was a kiss that could destroy her, that could leave her broken and shattered.

And as the kiss finally ended, she knew that she was lost. Lost in the passion and the danger that Minho offered, lost in a world where pleasure and pain were one and the same. But she didn't care. She had tasted the forbidden fruit, and she knew that she would never be the same again.

As Minho's hand slid down to her back, she felt a jolt of electricity run through her. His touch was electric, sending shivers down her spine. And as his other hand played with the bare skin on her waist, she felt a warmth spreading through her body that she had never felt before.

As he kissed his way down to her neck, she felt her heart racing with anticipation. As his lips brushed against her neck, she felt a surge of desire wash over her.

"Are you going to bite me?" she whispered, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Lee Minho's eyes held a glimmer of amusement, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Not unless you want me to," he murmured, his voice a soft caress against her skin.

With a trembling breath, YN met Minho's gaze with unwavering resolve, her heart ablaze with the thrill of the unknown.

As Minho's lips brushed against her skin, YN's breath hitched in her throat, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and longing.

"I want to taste you fully," His voice was a soft murmur against her ear, his words sending a shiver down her spine, "before dragging my teeth on your beautiful neck and drinking your blood… marking you as mine"

As Minho slowly undressed her, YN felt a thrill of excitement run through her body. She slowly undressed him in return, she felt a sense of power and control wash over her. She knew that she had him in her grasp too, that she could make him do anything she wanted.

As YN's naked body glowed under the moonlight, Minho couldn't help but let out an animalistic sound, like a predator who had found its prey. He was consumed with desire for her, and he kissed her with a passion and need that left her breathless.

YN surrendered to Minho completely, knowing that she was his to do with as he pleased. She felt his hands roaming over her body, exploring every curve and crevice, and she moaned with pleasure as he took her to new heights of ecstasy.

As Minho moved YN's body slowly towards his king-sized bed, she felt a shiver of excitement run through her. She knew that she was completely at his mercy, and she surrendered to him willingly.

He leaned her down onto her back, and as he kissed down her chest, she felt a wave of pleasure wash over her. He tasted her breasts, making her let out soft moans of pleasure, and she arched her back in response.

Minho's actions were possessive and dominant, and they sent a thrill of excitement through YN's body. She knew that she was completely under his control, and she loved every moment of it.

He whispered in her ear, "You belong to me, and only me. I'll never let anyone else touch you like this."

YN shivered with pleasure at his words, feeling a sense of safety and security in his possessiveness. She knew that he would always protect her, no matter what.

As YN laid on Minho's bed, her body aching with desire, he continued to explore her with his lips and tongue. He moved down her chest, taking one of her breasts into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue.

YN moaned softly, arching her back and offering herself up to him completely. She had never felt so alive, so desired, so wanted.

Minho continued to kiss and lick his way down her body, stopping only to tease her belly button with his tongue before moving further down.

He leaned in, kissing the inside of her thigh before moving to her center, where he began to explore her with his tongue, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

YN moaned louder, her body writhing with pleasure as Minho continued to pleasure her in ways she had never imagined possible. And as she reached the heights of ecstasy, she knew that she was his, completely and utterly, forever.

As Minho continued to kiss and lick his way up to YN's body, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dominance and ownership over her.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice low and husky. "No one else can ever have you like this. You're my little plaything.”

YN moaned in response, her body trembling with desire as Minho continued to explore her with his lips and tongue. She had never felt so wanted, so desired, so owned.

As Minho locked YN in between his arms, he looked deeply into her eyes and asked her, "Whose are you?"

YN whimpered in response, feeling a sense of pleasure and submission at his possessive words. She looked up at him with desire-filled eyes and replied, "I'm yours, all yours. I belong to you completely."

Minho smiled, a look of satisfaction on his face. He knew that he had complete control over her, and that she would do anything he asked of her.

"Good girl," he said, his voice low and commanding. "You're mine now, and I'm going to make you feel so good."

And with that, he leaned down and captured her lips with his, kissing her deeply and passionately as they lost themselves in a world of pleasure and desire.

As Minho continued to kiss YN deeply, he let his hand travel down between her legs to find it wet. He chuckled as he felt how wet she already was, his fingers tracing up and down on her lower region.

"Already so wet for me?" he whispered in her ear, his voice dripping with desire.

YN whimpered and moaned in response, her body trembling with pleasure as he continued to pleasure her with his fingers. She had never felt so alive, so desired, so wanted.

As YN reached down for Minho's manhood, she couldn't help but gasp at how big and hard it felt in her hand. She stroked it slowly, feeling his body tense up with pleasure as he let out a groan.

YN smirked, feeling a sense of power and control as she continued to pleasure him with her hand. She knew that she was driving him wild with desire, and that he would do anything to make her feel good in return.

As YN lined up Minho's member above her wet folds, she bridged closer to him with her other hand on his back. He took the cue and slammed himself into her without warning or waiting for her to adjust, his lips whispering profanities to her.

"Too big for my new plaything, huh?" he taunted. "Wasn't ready for it, baby girl?" He promised her that his fangs would break into her skin later, making her cry out in fear and pleasure.

Her nails found their way to his back, scratching him as he pounded into her with increasing force. She was overwhelmed by the intensity of their passion, and she knew that she was completely at his mercy.

And as Minho continued to take her to new heights of pleasure and pain, YN surrendered completely to him, knowing that she was his forever, body and soul.

YN felt herself getting closer to orgasm, Minho sensed it and brought his face near her neck, kissing and licking it. Her walls clenched around him, and in the right moment, he bit her neck, his canines deep, drawing out her blood, savoring the taste of her blood and the pleasure that he was giving her.

She let out a deliciously moan alongside a groan of pain, the sensation of the pain and her orgasm taking her higher than the things she used with her friends earlier.

Minho continued jamming into YN's feminine parts, he slammed harder and harder until he finally came, painting her walls white with his release.

YN cried out in pleasure as she felt him release inside her, her body trembling with the intensity of their passion. She knew that she had given herself completely to Minho, and that he had taken her to new heights of pleasure that she had never even dreamed of before.

“You taste so good, baby girl," he said, lapping his tongue over the fresh bite. YN felt completely under his spell, lost in a world of pleasure and desire where nothing else mattered except for the two of them and the love that they shared.

As they lathere, spent and breathless, YN felt a chill creeping into her bones, sending a shiver down her spine. Panic flickered in her eyes as she struggled to catch her breath, her mind racing with uncertainty.

Minho's arms wrapped around her, a reassuring presence in the darkness. "It will be quickly," he murmured, his voice a steady anchor in the turmoil that surrounded them.

Her heart pounding, YN's eyes widened in disbelief. "Quick what?!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with anger and fear, her breaths coming in short gasps.

"Your transformation," Lee Minho stated firmly, his tone unwavering. "You. Are. Mine. Now."

YN's throat tightened at his words, the weight of their implications settling over her like a suffocating blanket. She swallowed hard, her mouth dry with fear, her mind reeling with the enormity of what lay ahead.

In that moment, YN knew that she stood at the precipice of a journey that would irrevocably alter the course of her destiny. With a trembling nod, she silently acknowledged the truth of his words, bracing herself for the darkness that awaited her on the other side.

to be continued?

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kiss-me-muchoo · 10 months

Text

𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 || 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠!𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one: I knew you were trouble || part two: Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_No richness and benefits from being part of a successful family from District 1 would take away the broken pride of being Coriolanus Snow's second choice. Even worse was the pain of his marriage proposal, and the horrors that happened around the 10th Hunger Games.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_reader is unhinged, she experiments with herself, angst, tears, female rage, Snow actually loves reader (well idk).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞_main song for this is I knew you were trouble. Also Valley of the dolls, song added to my Coryo Copito's playlist

♪ ♫ Coryo playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

_________________________________________

Color was unintentionally banned in The Capitol. After the First Rebellion, everyone's wardrobes were full of black, white, cream, brown, maroon, and grey. That would put your shag haircut and purple eyeshadow in the spotlight. Because you were a District 1 girl. And even after moving to The Capitol, luxury would never leave you.

Your father's bodyguard took you to school. And it made you feel like a pampered kid. But that changed after seeing that all of the Academy's students were rich kids.

A lot of students sent deep looks, you want to believe they're just curious. You're not innocent, but you'd avoid trouble as much as you could.

You hated the uniform. The skirt was fine, but the pants under it? It wasn't your style.

Things started getting interesting after Dean Highbottom announced how your classmates and you would be competing for the Plinth Prize. In a few weeks, the process would start. You had to get the best grades. But for now, it was lunchtime.

It was the issue with being the new girl, the cliche of being excluded. Groups of girls, boys, mixed, and a lonely blonde guy.

"Can I sit with you?" He looked around, wondering if you were talking to him or not. Meanwhile, you wondered why you chose to ask. You rarely socialized, and you wrongly expected people to reach you, instead of you making the first move.

"If you want to." He had very intriguing blue eyes. His blonde curls were slightly messy. And overall he was handsome. Although, his tone of voice was a little cold.

"Y/n..." you explained after seeing him looking expectantly, silently asking for your name. He was all ears after hearing your last name.

Except for your scar. A long pink asymmetric line that traveled from your nose to your neck. It made him lock his eyes on your face. But he tried his best to not make it seem obvious. "Coriolanus Snow" your eyes widened. You knew the family Snow was super rich and important. You heard rumors about them now being poor. But those were rumors, and it wasn't your business.

"Well, nice to meet you"

"Shouldn't you be in District 1?"

"My mother is opening a new store here at The Capitol. And my father is getting a lot of jobs. So... it was for the best" he assumed you were as lonely as him. Without any siblings to grow up with. Only the finest commodities to soothe you.

"My cousin can't stop talking about your mother" Tigris would never shut up about it. The fashion designer and owner of "Ametrine Designs". Established shortly after the First Rebellion. Decades ago your family acquired some Mines in Districts 1 and 12, and all the precious stones helped to survive the war and be some of the first people to gain power after it.

" So she likes fashion?" Coriolanus chuckled.

"She certainly does..."

"That's so sweet...What about you?. What do you want to be?" He cleaned his mouth like he was thinking about his answer carefully. And he was, he couldn't help but think you were gorgeous. The girl his grandma'am would love. So he wanted to impress you.

As soon as he watched you enter the classroom and Casca Highbottom introduced you, he couldn't stop looking at you.

"I don't know yet. I just want to help my cousin and grandma'am" he admitted. It came from his heart, and your reaction was what he wanted. You smiled so happily like you thought he was so kind and adorable.

What actually happened, you thought Coriolanus Snow was cute.

"You're going to make me sound so ambitious. I want to go to University. Learn about politics and genetics..." you surprised him. For real...

"You- you want to become... president?" You giggled. Brushing the short hairs on your forehead away.

"It's stupid! I just..." you blushed. And Coriolanus thought he had never seen a pink like the one painting your cheeks.

"No!... It's impressive." He offered a little smile, to which you also replied. And it felt comfortable like it was meant to be.

"Hey uhm... I would love to meet your cousin. And we could sit together tomorrow again?" To Coriolanus, it was a success what he had done. He made you feel like seeing him again. It made him proud, and it made his heart beat faster.

"Yes... Of course" with a sweet smile of yours, you disappeared from the cafeteria.

Less than a minute later, Arachne and Clemensia came with Felix.

"Did the sequin girl feel shame for you? You befriended her, Snow?" He sighed.

"Ara..." Clemmie scolded her. The girl with perfect red lips rolled her eyes.

"I heard his father is running for mayor of the 1. If not, he'll end up in my father's cabinet" Felix explained. Snow looked him in the eyes. It wasn't a surprise that your father was trying to work alongside the president. Just unexpected for Coriolanus and his luck.

"Oh, and the scar on her face was made by a rebel. Apparently, some rebels held her and the family captive. They killed the older brother and tortured her." Arachne gossiped. Clemensia gasped in horror, and Felix seemed disgusted.

"No wonder why she has that exotic appearance. She needs to feel pretty and confident with that thing on her face"

"She's still pretty, Arachne," Clemmie shared. And Felix nodded.

Snow only listened, careful to capture every detail to share in the night with Tigris.

"Doesn't matter. She looks innocent but it's obvious she's just like her mother. Too analytical. Like she could plan and hide a murder" That stuck on Coriolanus for too long. But he liked you already, which never happened. And he thought he could have a friend.

...

Three months later, your mother opened the first "Ametrine Designs" in The Capitol. You invited most of your classmates. By that winter, Clemensia Dovecote, Sejanus Plinth, and Tigris Snow were close friends. Your mother loved Tigris and approved your very close friendship with Coriolanus.

So that night, you were wearing an elegant blue velvet dress, off shoulders and a sheer cape adorned your clavicles. The cape got stuck on a little tree on your patio. Coriolanus helped and soon after he gave you a kiss on the lips.

And as the months passed, it never became official. But the kisses, hands holding, leaning on each other, that happened often.

So now grab him by the entrance of the Academy. He gave you a kiss on the cheek, and the students around watched curiously.

"You look very pretty," he said, looking at your violet coat. Under, you had a vivid red dress and some cranberry boots. Your lips matched your boots and the metallic silver eyes you had made you look so unique.

"But look at you, handsome as always. Tigris made this?" He nodded, letting you fix one of the shirt's buttons.

Clemensia joined you and the blonde guy. But before entering the room where you'd see the Reaping and the announcement of the Plinth Prize winner, you grabbed him by the forearm. "What?" He asked.

"I just hope you win so badly. Just that, Coryo" he smiled, caressing your cheek. Since you were the only one who knew about his economic position, you had only helped him. And he questioned when to pop up the question. Do you want to be his girlfriend?

"What would I do without you?" He asked, before leaning in to kiss you. You reciprocated, holding his free hand. His kisses were slow, yet he always set a pace that made it addictive. And for the first time, his hand on your cheek explored a new place, your hip.

Only that ended sooner as new waves of students could be heard. So you smiled at him after separating. And together, you entered the room.

...

You felt sorry for Coriolanus. After all his efforts, there's a change with the Plinth Prize. And then he receives a District 12 girl to mentor, literally zero hopes.

Then she goes to sing and it makes you giggle, she had a beautiful voice and you liked what she said before leaving. But you kinda felt she was going to be a problem.

Either way, you were more concentrated on why you didn't get a tribute. Until the woman who intimidated you the most appeared.

"Y/n y/l/n." You hear Dr. Gaul says, her intimidating eyes from different colors are set on you.

You gulp before looking up at her, ignoring Arachne's mocking smile.

"Your genetic research was a success. And after correcting the formula you made, I was able to finish my new creation." Your eyes widened. Across the room, Sejanus smiled at you. And Clemmie, sitting beside you, squeezed your hand in support. It was just a stupid idea of altering some snakes.

"No student had ever defied the principles of science like you did. And because of that, you'll help me supervise and modify the games." Sejanus started clapping and soon Clemmie also did, making everyone applaud and cheer for you.

"Oh my god," you said incredulously. Laughing nervously.

"Congratulations," Coriolanus said, also squeezing your hand. You accept his smile and you can't help but hug him briefly.

Things would change. A lot... And for the worse.

...

The first thing you notice is that you haven't visited Coriolanus and Tigris since the Reaping. You barely saw the blondie and you spent most hours locked in the laboratory.

You try to forget the night you saw the game's updates. In your room, putting creams on your scar as you let the air flow through your balcony. Coriolanus was at the zoo with the tributes. You wondered what the hell he did to end up there. He made you feel a little embarrassed. But it was even more awkward to see him holding hands with her, talking to the camera as if they knew and liked each other. You couldn't hate Lucy Gray Baird, but you didn't like her either. What you hated is that Coriolanus seemed to be getting obsessed with winning.

…

"Coryo!" You yelled, spotting the guy coming out of a classroom.

You hug him and his hands land on your waist.

"I've missed you..." you admit with a blush. Trying to make him see that you are still there. Because whether you had some history with him, his little tribute was making you uneasy. "You have been busy," he replies. And you notice his cold tone.

"How is your songbird? Bet she's an annoying rebel..." he sighs. Remembering he had to take Lucy to the arena and form some strategy. But also, what you said was true. Lucy’s voice was so sweet. And she made him feel human.

"She's fine..."

"I can't believe what happened to Arachne" you opt for changing the subject.

"I was there..." you sigh. Maybe you didn't like her at all. But the young woman gave a sarcastic dark twist to every class. And her death was such a tragic event. For her and her tribute.

"Coryo... You have to promise me you'll be careful. The tributes are angry. They hate us. You can't even trust the rainbow girl because she sings you a song" he knew you were right. And he felt so wrong about even thinking about Lucy Gray more than you.

"I know. You're also coming to the arena with us. You won't leave my side..." you nod. And just like that, he takes your hand and takes you home. Even if he didn't have a chauffeur, you'd walk him for days.

...

Coriolanus could recognize your low heels wherever. So he turned to see you entering the arena with two peacekeepers behind you. This time, you were wearing a bright blue dress and purple tights. Immediately he left Lucy Gray and came to greet you.

"Are those new?" Coriolanus asked, pointing at your purple legs. You giggled, happy to see him smiling at you again.

"That's right, dear."

"Listen, I have to take some measurements and make some notes for Gaul." However, he could see you uneasy as you spoke. So he gently grabbed your forearm.

"Hey. Are you okay?" You sighed, closing your eyes. That’s why you missed him so much. Sejanus was busy, and Coriolanus was also busy. You haven’t talked with anyone about Clemensia.

"It's Clemmie. She's...It wasn't only flu, Coryo. Her skin... and her eyes" he worried after seeing you on the verge of tears. He grew curious, immediately remembering that she hadn’t come to class again. And while he didn't have time to ask more. He would soothe you at least.

"Hey, hey... It's not your fault. You didn't know Gaul was going to use the snakes to punish Clemensia. Okay?..." you nod wiping a tear.

"It's not your fault. Say it... It's not your fault, y/n" You nod, holding onto his words like a lifesaver. Just like you thought Coriolanus was in your life.

"It's not my fault. But I'm still looking for a way to help her" he smiled briefly. Always so kind. "Look at me, y/n." You do, and you get lost in his ocean-blue eyes. Like the first time. "You're good." Again, you nod.

The songbird watched how he talked to you, and then you smiled at him. She knew what love looked like. And Lucy Grey figured out very easily that you were in love with Coriolanus Snow. You kissed his cheek and soon the peacemakers followed you. You started inspecting the arena, taking notes in a little notebook.

And as soon as he was back with Lucy Gray, the bombing started.

"Y/N!" Coriolanus screamed as he watched how you got lost through the flames and haze of ashes. And then... darkness.

...

Tigris disliked how her cousin asked for Lucy Gray first rather than you. But Coriolanus could only think of her being safe, then on you.

Both were okay. You prepared the interviews for Lucky Flickerman. Lucy sang her song about revenge, and Coriolanus noticed everyone tearing up. He knew you were not. Wherever you were, you didn't have the kind of heart to cry because of a song. Instead, you cried from guilt for ruining your female best friend's life by helping to create poisonous snakes.

"Now, y/n y/l/n. How does it feel being the youngest person in the history of the Hunger Games to be directly involved in the creation and supervision?" Lucky asked you. And suddenly, Coriolanus was fixed on you on the screen. You looked fine. Stunning as usual with your exotic taste in fashion and attractive hair.

"It feels like a big responsibility. And although sometimes I question the brutality of the games. I know we deserve peace. All of Panem. So if we have to hold tightly to get there... So be it" The blonde could see how Sejanus wasn't pleased by your answer. He always seemed to disagree with everything related to the games.

"Honest answer I see. And one more question and I let you free. Would you say this games will finally make the show a spectacle?" You smile. Because on the other side, as you look at the microphone pointing at you, you can't help it. You can already see Lucy Gray's dirty intentions. You know she saved Coriolanus. You know he cared for her. And it was evil, but you weren't sure you wanted her to win.

"Guess we'll all see it for ourselves tomorrow." Coriolanus saw you smiled differently. It wasn't one of bright smiles. But he decided to let it go.

Just as he abruptly stopped himself from kissing Lucy Gray at the zoo. Because the image of you wouldn't fade.

...

After Sejanus left before the start of the games, you repressed the urge to go after him. You felt like you needed to talk to him. He knew you could have done more for his tribute and the games in general. Suddenly working for Gaul was putting between the sword and the wall.

But that was forgotten as soon as you stepped in front of all the mentors, instructing how the timing would go. Coriolanus seemed off. Almost avoiding you. But you also felt a little awkward, so you didn't try to catch up with him. Only sent a bouquet and dinner for him to the hospital after the bombing.

You could feel his eyes on you. But you were looking at the arena. The massacre had started. And everyone thought you had a strong stomach to see all the gore without making a disgusted face. Some were vomiting and the whole room feel like the games were actually a polo bet night. The only think that made you feel less stressed were the comments from Lucky Flickerman.

After midday, you left. Coriolanus stayed very late. Until Dr. Gaul appeared and told him about Sejanus. Soon he learned the elder woman called you too. And it frightened him. Since you two were best friends of Sejanus, you two had to get him out of the arena. Coriolanus believed his frien was trespassing the Capitol’s trust. When you two arrived at the Arena, he stopped you.

"You're not going inside." He says.

"I can't let you go there alone," you explain worriedly. Also, Sejanus was your best friend. "And I can't risk you going there and getting hurt" he cared, but it felt different now. Maybe it was because of her.

"Please, y/n. Not you, please" you sigh, letting him go and enter the arena.

As soon as you hear "enjoy the show", your heart starts pounding so fast. And although you can't see very well, you start screaming for your friends when Coral and her allies start chasing them. You were used to the violence and disturbances of the games since your father hosted parties to watch them and celebrate.

Tears start falling as soon as you hear the crack of the tribute Coriolanus had just killed. You cover your mouth in shock. Time seems to pass slower than usual as he and Sejanus run towards you on the exit.

You want to rip the doors and take them out. But you can't, and then... the peacekeepers do it. And the first thing you do is to catch Coriolanus in your arms. You hold him tight as you hug Sejanus with a free arm. They also seem shocked, you can hear Sejanus cry and it tears you apart.

"It's okay. It's okay" you soothe them. Coriolanus holds your waist so hard because he can't imagine losing you. But that would exactly happen in less than 24 hours.

But for the rest of the night, you have him in the little laboratory Dr. Gaul let you have. Coriolanus is still, but you can see a couple of tears falling. You swiftly clean his face, his healthy arm again holding you.

"I killed that boy. It was a kid." You feel bad for him. So sad to see him like that. But you understand, he never imagined he would end up fighting for his life in the arena of the Hunger Games.

"It was either you or him, Coryo. Can you understand that? It was your life and Sejanus too. Imagine the shame if a tribute ended up killing two mentors" he looked at you. He wondered why you were reacting so neutrally. He expected you to take this differently, but you defended his actions seriously.

"Yeah. Right..."

"You're here, alive. You can still win that prize and make Tigris and your Grandma'am happy" you explain finally.

"And you? What can I do to make you happier?" He meant the prize wouldn't change a thing between you two.

"You already make me happy, Coriolanus. Just by seeing you for a minute in my days, it's enough" he couldn't help it, he traced your scar so tenderly, making you feel special before he kissed you abruptly. You dropped the gazes and the alcohol bottle. But soon your hands ended up on his messy hair. And again that thing. His hands are on your hips. The urge to touch was growing the more you two kissed. The kiss turned passionate, for the first time, his tongue met yours. And by the time Coriolanus was about to slide his hand under your dress, a peacemaker entered, demanding your report to hand it to Dr. Gaul.

"Water mutts?" Coryo asked after you handed the paper.

"Something I've been working on lately" you admitted.

Tomorrow was the big day. Where all would collide.

...

"I'm so nervous..." Tigris said, sitting beside you. The whole room was full of students. The second day of the games. Dr. Gaul warned you about the snakes that would end the games. And you didn't say no. Even if that made Coriolanus lose.

"It's okay, Tigris. It's almost over" you reply, accommodating your gloves. She looks down and smiles.

"Hey! Are those the gloves I made for you?" You nod giggling. A pair of grey elegant gloves. "Yes. I love them. They have been washed a lot lately" She feels so happy that you wore her present.

For the last hour, you could only think about Coriolanus kissing you last night. It made you blush and realize it. You loved him. And you couldn't wait for the games to be over. Because you would ask him. That if there was anything he could do to make you happy, was to make you his girlfriend.

“ Miss y/l/n." Dr. Gaul appeared beside you. She tilted her head, indicating you to follow her. You excuse yourself with Tigris and leave.

"I have eyes and ears everywhere. What was Mr. Snow doing two nights ago by the zoo talking with his tribute?" You frown, confused. You knew she didn’t want to keep an eye away from Coriolanus.

"I'm afraid I don't know, Dr. Gaul. I hadn't seen it personally since yesterday after... the incident with Sejanus" She nods. She knows a liar. And she knows you are telling the truth. "Well, interesting is the fact that yesterday was with you and two nights ago kissing the songbird. So I thought he had shared his plans with you" You feel blushing, embarrassed. You turn down to look at Coriolanus. He's so invested in seeing the screen.

And before you can't answer the woman beside you, you hear Lucy Gray Baird singing again, the snakes cuddling all over her. You frown again. You don't want to accept it, but did he?... No. Coriolanus would not risk everything like that for her nor the prize. But the snakes would only remain still with people they’re used to. Lucy Gray had never been in contact with them, and singing to them wasn’t enough. And then you look at Coriolanus again, and you know his face so well. You know it already.

Dr. Gaul turns to look at you, hoping to see you have the answer on your face. But she sees you confused, even angered. Like herself.

Coriolanus demands her to let Lucy Gray win, and you pray she says no. The confusing feelings over being on the of Sejanus and his rebellious thoughts. The guilt of what happened to Clemensia. The weight of designing the games. The weird back-and-forth thing with Coriolanus.

Dr. Gaul accepted Lucy Gray had won and everyone cheered. Everyone cheered for him. But you couldn't. Not after hearing he had kissed Lucy Gray. Not after being almost sure he cheated. Not after you realized he had been playing with you.

After he celebrated with Tigris, he felt your eyes on him. You immediately left. And he followed you.

You were almost at the end of the hallway when he saw you.

"Y/n!... wait up!" You turned, tears flowing deeply. He got taken aback by how hurt you looked.

"Was it worth it? Risking everything for her?"

"I did it for the prize" he stated, looking worried. Did you know what he did?

"LIAR!. You kissed her!" By that point, he knew you had feelings for him. So it made him feel worse.

"I didn't..."

"I'm sure you almost did" Soon the tears were dry, and all you could feel was anger.

"Was her voice? Her singing? Her silly dress? Why her?" He almost felt ashamed. But tried to remain looking at you in the eyes.

"It's difficult." You laugh, genuinely laugh. He finally accepted it. It was her all along.

"You know?..." you ask, spitting venom with your voice. Your cream nail pointing at him, gloves on your other one.

"If you were smarter than you think you are, you could have started dating me soon after meeting me."

"We would've eventually ended up marrying and half of my fortune would've automatically been yours. No need to win the prize." He's finally ashamed. He meets this new version of yours, and he doesn't like it.

"But you decided to risk everything. For a nobody girl from District 12. How shameful for a Snow" You smile, and he can feel it coming, losing you.

"Please, y/n..." he said, but you interrupted him.

"One last thing. If you don't get caught and punished. You'll either receive less than what was expected from the prize, Casca's demand." He remained quiet.

"That little songbird is going to hurt you. She's used you since the beginning. And when you feel like you lost it, you're gonna remember me. I promise you, Snow" you never called him that. It hurt him in many ways that surprised him. Marking the end of the history you two had made up.

"But remember... Snow always lands on top" The way you said it, so cynical, making fun of him. It almost made him fall on his knees for you. But all he did was appreciate your evil smile as you left him standing there. He felt like he hadn't just won, like Lucy Gray didn't.

...

Exile. That's what he deserved. But it boiled your blood that he decided to bribe you to serve as a peacekeeper in District 12. He left you for her, officially. And Sejanus was leaving too. You hadn't visited Clemensia in days for being crying in your room as soon as you left the Academy. But an idea appeared in a dream. Where you magically made your scar disappear. Since Snow continuously kissed and traced your scar, you would get rid of it. At the same time, you would help treat Clemensia's condition. And if it worked, it would give you honors for graduation.

But for now, it has been hours of testing, mixing, and injecting. Until Sejanus appeared. And you explained to him everything. And revealed about the exile.

He left a week after the games. In the meantime, he never reached you. And it finally broke you. But your big ego wouldn't let you crumble publicly again.

"Does it sound ridiculous? That I'm experimenting with myself to be beautiful?" you asked. Sejanus sighed. The desks were full of chemicals and different herbs, which unsettled the young man. "You don't have to do this. You're fine... you're already beautiful. And you're also doing this for Clemmie" he made you giggle.

"And you're leaving after telling me this? Who's gonna remind me of my beauty then?" Sejanus was a sweetheart, and you constantly wondered what could have been if he let you sit beside him instead of Coriolanus.

"I'll send letters. And... Do you want me to tell Coryo anything...?"

"No." He sighed.

"He's going to see it. He'll come back to you" his words settled an uncomfortable feeling in your guts. But you did your best to smile honestly.

"Maybe this is the way it was supposed to end. And it's okay..."

No, it wasn't.

"No matter what...You'll be happy. I know you're going beyond expectations" Sejanus was that friend you really appreciated. You couldn't help but tear up when he decided to hug you. "You can make it better. Take care of Clemmie and yourself." Your eyes widened. Remembering that maybe... Sejanus was a rebel sympathizer. And it made you wonder if you were one too. It brought you to an inconsistent decision. Where you worked for a woman who was the opposite of him in many ways.

"Good luck, Sejanus," he smiled. Gently squeezing your cheek and letting you go. "You're full of that. I'll just miss you" and with that, Sejanus was gone.

And that would be the last time you saw him…

Sejanus didn't make it to graduation. He was hanged for treason. Clemensia had surgery and she refused to go out in public yet. You finished the treatment for her, but it still needed examinations. You were not at your best moment, to be honest.

So you graduated alone, with no best friends, and no blonde guy you loved. Just you. Soon you started university, and your father became head of the president's cabinet. Your mother made her first fashion show and you saw Tigris. You didn't ask about Snow and she didn't mention him either.

However, rumors filed across The Capitol. You knew he was back. And that the Plinths made him heir of their fortune. Lucy Gray disappeared. And you were the most influential person in Panem apparently. Mixing in the world of fashion, science, and politics. The Capitol's dream girl.

You felt powerful, confident, and strong.

So the day you feared came. Seeing Coriolanus Snow again.

Different hair, different clothes, different look, same eyes. The counseling center of Capitol's University was a desert. Just you and him.

He smiles, looking at how much you changed in a matter of months. Longer hair that made you even more irresistible. Your scar seemed to be fading. Your eyes weirdly looked even lighter, and your skin looked different too.

You make your way past him, going three steps up in the giant elegant stairs of the building. "Can you listen to me? Just for a minute?" You turn, looking at him. His father must've looked like that.

"You had a week to talk before you left for District 12." He remained still. Of course it wouldn’t be easy with you. He had always had it easy and now, you demonstrated being tough in reality.

"It happened, right? What I predicted..." His silence was a yes to you. So you giggle, proud to know he suffered at least.

"Have a nice day, Snow"

"Marry me..."

You turn again, looking down at him in shock. No, we wouldn’t…

He waits for a response. Your painted lips and killer eyes won't look away from him. Somehow, Snow believes you are now just like him. Carrying errors and guilt.

Your heels, he could never forget the sound of them. He inspects your steps closer, you looking taller some steps up. He was taken aback when your wine nails gently dug into his neck, and your sweet-looking lips smashed his.

Somehow he felt wrong, but the kiss felt right. It was meaningless, but it was unleashing some kind of lustful awakening again. Surrendering, finally, his hands landed on your hips, keeping you aligned and centered almost between his legs.

"You'll never love me. If I married you, I would be nothing. Because I'll never be her..." You felt him gripping your hips harder. He didn't like the comment. But you had just begun. "Remember. We're still kids, Snow. Just nineteen. You still have a long way to reach power. And you need my father's help. You need my influence. You win, I lose..." his jaw tightened, and finally you stood straight stepping away from him.

So he also stood on the same step as you. The height difference is even more evident. Your heels made some effort to make you feel confident, as your chin would barely make it past his chest. But his eyes pierced you. Those deep blue ocean eyes seemed to be hosting a tsunami.

At the same time, he was getting lost in the almost frozen honey of your eyes. Trying to describe how you could ever forgive him. Believing it was because of his hunger for power, he leaned.

Again, his lips grazed yours. Your eyes are glued to the black and white tile floor. And his eyes locked in your neck.

"I'm going to marry you." It was a statement. There was a need in his words. But no love. But you stepped even closer. Ready to counter back.

"We'll see." Without a last look, you hurried your pace upstairs. That didn't stop your confidence from looking visible. Snow believed you hated him to death. That was a lie. Snow could feel how much he had hurt you and how that changed you. That was true.

As your graceful figure disappeared through the hall of the building, Snow stood there alone. Trying to convince himself that he was putting much effort into marrying you because of the money and your father's political position. Rather than his wounded heart trying to heal with the sweetest person he met some months ago. The first person who he didn't feel the need to fit in. The only person who had offered him respect and time without expecting anything back. He had every chance with you and he wasted it. For Lucy Gray Baird. For nothing.

As you looked at the Capitol through your car, you reminisced. You knew he would insist. You knew being a teenager was over.

When you make it to your home, there's a big bouquet of white roses on your bed. You don't read the note. The logo of the family Snow was enough. It angers you to the point where you smash the bouquet against the sheets, ruining it and making a mess of petals all over your bed. This little war of yours was just starting. And you knew you weren't ready to fight with a broken heart, a damaged pride, and a love you couldn't get over with. Coriolanus Snow would mean trouble. You knew it the moment he let you sit beside him. It would be a problem. But one thing was for sure. No matter what, he would never have all the power. And if it wasn't yours, control would be.

_______________________________

Special mention_ @earphonejack09

I'm thinking of doing part two with the proposal, tension, reptile Clemmie, drama, reputation + evermore era, and the wedding.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x lucy gray #coriolanus x sejanus #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #corio snow #coriolanus smut

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cosmerelists · 5 months

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Cosmere Characters in the Hunger Games

As requested by @sweetteaanddragons :)

I haven't read or watched Hunger Games, but I've picked up enough through cultural osmosis...I hope. They're kids in an arena fighting to the death, right? And it's a media circus? And there are 12 districts? And they're poor? I think I got it! Anyway, let's stick Cosmere characters in that arena and see how they do!

By the way, for the most part I'm imagining these characters in their own separate hunger games, not all together, just because I didn't want to imagine all of my blorbos killing each other.

1. Kaladin

After a kid who looks just like Tien literally dies in Kaladin's arms (note: all of the kids look exactly like Tien so far as Kaladin is concerned), Kaladin realizes that the Hunger Games are about kids dying, not about kids surviving. He decides that he has to save everyone, and quickly builds a coalition with the other tributes. They all die anyway and Kaladin wins.

He's not happy about it.

2. Shallan

Sadly, Shallan dies while trying unsuccessfully to convince a stick to become fire. Technically, I think this means the stick wins, but they give the award to some kid instead, for some reason.

3. Adolin

Adolin was doing really well until FOUR other tributes all decided to gang up on him. Even then, he fought like an uncaged tiger and very nearly survived. Nearly. (Hey, uh, most characters die in Hunger Games, right?)

4. Vin

Vin slices through the competition like a vengeful god. Emphasis on vengeful. And god. She barely even lets herself get distracted by the weird love triangle between that guy who wants to make the world better and the one who wants to burn it all down. She's too busy, like, killing everyone.

5. Zane

Zane thinks it's pretty swell to be in this killing arena killing people. What isn't swell is that Vin isn't into him, even AFTER their romantic killing spree. What gives? Anyway. Vin kills him.

6. Elend

Elend has a lot of thoughts about the sociological implications of the games. He does not have a lot of thoughts about how to sharpen a stick into a crude spear and ram it through someone's chest. (Is that what happens in the Hunger Games?) Regardless, I don't think he makes it long... Sorry, Elend.

7. Spook

Spook is a wraith. No one ever sees him coming. Or sees him at all. He keeps receiving supplies and weapons from a mysterious benefactor. At one point he starts wearing a handkerchief over his eyes and killing people by sound alone. I don't really see him winning, tbh (sorry Spook), but he is definitely a crowd favorite who makes it super far.

8. Szeth

"To kill innocent children for the amusement of distant viewers blackens my soul with a stain that shall never be removed. Oh, how I hate this. Oh, how I hate this senseless, senseless killing," Szeth thinks to himself as he constructs an unnecessarily elaborate death trap that kills his opponents horribly. "No one suffers like me," Szeth thinks, over all of the screaming.

9. Renarin

Hey remember when Renarin killed a Thunderclast mostly off-screen? Plus he has future sight. If they've got their powers in this game, then Radiant Renarin is probably taking it all. If not, well...let's not go there.

10. Vivenna

After her sister is sent as a tribute in Vivenna's place, Vivenna enters the Hunger Games anyway, determined to somehow put a stop to them. For example, she takes all the food she can find and hides it in one place so that it will be safe for everyone. She figures out how to predict supply drops to ensure that she always gets to them first. While convinced that she is the Hunger Games Breaker, she is actually the season's most notorious villain and eventually everyone bands together to kill her. Sorry, Vivenna.

11. Kelsier

Kelsier wins the hearts of viewers everywhere, mostly due to his determination to keep smiling no matter what horrors he must survive. He's, like, really good at killing people also. The Survivor, people call him. But when he is shockingly cut down and killed, his death galvanizes a rebellion against, uh, President Snow? Is that the big bad? Anyway. There's a religion about him now.

12. Ann

Oh, Ann. So excited to shoot guns. (Do they have guns?) So excited to shoot bows and arrows maybe. But she can't shoot worth a damn. She has a splendid time and hits no one. And, well, she does not win.

13. Cord

Frankly, Cord wants to win and bring glory and money (?) back home to her people, who desperately need it. I'm assuming the districts get stuff if their person wins. Cord is in it to win it. And she's awfully good with that bow and arrow...

14. Lift

Man, I don't want Lift to be in the Hunger Games! Lift thinks killing is lazy and boring! Sure, she'd be great at hiding in trees and getting food, but I definitely do not see Lift actually being able to kill anyone. Is that allowed? Will she be disqualified?

15. Tress

Tress looks at the Death Arena Whose Purpose Is Death and says, "But is anyone gonna Make Friends about it" and doesn't wait for an answer. Somehow, by the end, basically everyone IS friends. Except for that one person who really did want to kill. But she and Tress went off together and only Tress returned. So.

Basically, Tress's influence ruins the Hunger Games that year. Nobody wants the Friendship Games.

#Cosmere #Cosmerelists #Kaladin #Adolin #Shallan #Vin #Elend #Spook #Zane #Lift #Tress #Vivenna #Kelsier #Szeth #Ann #Renarin #Cord

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emma-is-swaggy-and-epic · 11 days

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Realized a while back that FNAF 4 and security breach have VERY similar concepts (in both games, you play as a little boy who's being terrorized by both animatronics AND an older human character all while being assisted by a freddy variant) so i decided to do a swap!!!

LORE DETAILS UNDER THE CUT

FNAF 4 >>> security breach

The crying child still gets bitten by the fredbear animatronic and put into a coma but instead of being stuck in a nightmare where he's terrorized by animatronics, he's sent to a dream-like purgatory similar to that of the headspace from omori or carealot from care bears. While there he's assisted by various stuffed animals called "the dreamscape plushies", more notably the leader: dreamscape freddy and they help the crying child leave dreamland and finally make it to the afterlife. Though i imagine as the crying child would get closer and closer to death, the more and more nightmarish the world becomes; with the plushies becoming more tattered and worn as time goes on

Security breach >>> FNAF 4

One night gregory's parents decide to go somewhere so they drop him off at vanessa's house so she could babysit him, unfortunately for gregory though: her house is full of weird animatronic monsters who want to kill the both of them so they have to try and survive the night (a lot more bare-bones compared to the other one, i know. But i REALLY wanted to have all the glamrocks be based on some kind of toy and this was the only thing i could think of that'd have that make sense)

Speaking of: freddy is a superhero action figure, monty is one of those games where you have to push down an alligator's teeth and avoid getting bitten, chica and roxy are both dolls (with chica being a porcelain doll and roxy being a fashion doll, i didn't know what kinda clothes to put on roxy and anything i tried kinda dampened the horror aspect so i just decided to keep her nakey) and lastly the daycare attendant is, of course, a jack-in-the-box. I'd like to imagine that each animatronic represents a different aspect to vanessa's trauma but tbh the only things i could think of is that monty is a toxic ex-boyfriend, chica is vanessa's younger self and roxy is the toxic beauty standards pushed onto her. Idk what freddy and the daycare attendant could possibly represent....

Also fun fact: roxy's design is inspired by the creepypasta "the please stand by dog" (PHENOMONAL story btw, VERY short and VERY simple yet it's SOOOO effective!!!)

...I just noticed that my versions of bonnie and vanessa kinda mirror each other (they both have patchwork bunny-theming and wear jeans with patches on them) that wasn't intentional lol

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selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 7 months

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Idk how this even works properly so correct me if I did something wrong

14! Gn reader with Kenji, and Kyoka in Teyvat

If you were not alone

Part II

______

Self-Aware! BSD AU x SAGAU Imposter crossover

Character: Self-Aware! Platonic! Kenji Miyazawa, Self-Aware! Platonic! Kyouka Izumi

Reader: 14! GN! Reader

Warning: English is my second language

____

🐄🐰 One moment you, Kyouka and Kenji were going back home from school.

The second moment you three were in a middle of Chinju Forest.

Kenji took the sudden trip better, than Kyouka and you. The sun was shining, wind was blowing, and, according to your knowledge about the game, Teyvat's people are more or less friendly, and there are travelers from another world.

So, after getting some rest, you three will go to the nearest city and search for dimensional travelers. Everything will be alright.

Besides, local tanukis are so cute, and Ioroi was fun to talk to.

Kenji's optimism was contagious. He does have a point. You aren't looking for troubles. Besides, Traveler and Alice are friendly. They won't hurt you three.

With your spirit up, you started your journey to Grand Narukami Shrine. In Guide, Alice mentioned, that she knew Yae Miko. And Yae did publish said Guide. Maybe, kitsune knew, how to reach Alice.

During your walk, you looked up. And a chill run down your spine. Celestia was gone. A clod, sticky horror squeeze your heart. You knew from somewhere, that it was wrong.

Something terrible has happened.

You decide to think about it when you reached Shrine. You will have time.

🐄🐰 You were lucky. Yae Miko was here, in the shrine. Everything looked normal. Kenji, with big smile on his face, walked towards her, asking for help. But then Yae Miko looked at you. Disbelief, horror, worry. Before someone could react, Yae dragged you three inside the shrine's building.

When the door closed behind you, Yae grabbed your cheeks, looking at your face at every angle. You notice, how Demon Snow appeared behind Kyuoka, drawing its sword.

Yae's voice was trembling.

"Don't waste your power on me, child. Soon you will need it to protect yourselves."

🐄🐰 During Yae's explanation, you felt, how Kyuoka and Kenji sat closer to you. Like they were afraid, that you will be attacked any moment now. Because of orders of 'Creator'.

Yae explained, that just few hours ago, that Creator preformed some sort of ritual. A ritual of finding sinners… People, who looked similar to Creator. Who looked similar to you. And if someone sees you, they would attack. Would try to capture you.

Yae secretly get you away from Narukami Shrine. You weren't safe in Inazuma. Still, Yae asked you to stay here. Until she gets answer from Alice and her whereabouts.

"Run, children. Alice the adventurer might help you. If you managed to get to her, she might find a way to return you home."

When you left, she sent a letter to Alice. The only thing that was left is wait.

🐄🐰At the end of the week, you three were still in Inazuma. And you have a bunch of people on your tail.

And you were worried. Mostly, about Kenji and Kyuoka. They were your friends/adopted siblings. And they were protecting you. Kenji was starving himself, afraid of not being able to help during attack. Kyuoka was constantly using Demon Snow to search for dangers. And it looked like, using their abilities, tried them.

You tried to help as much as you can. You took cooking and keeping camp warm and clean on yourself. You insisted on guarding the camp at night, letting Kyuoka and Kenji sleep.

Despite two of you having abilities, you were just three teens. And you three missed home and the rest of BSD's Cast.

🐄🐰 Second week were better. Thanks to Kenji's kindness, you now were hiding in Yoimiya's house. Who could think, that playing with local kids will let you find help?

Now you were more or less protected.

Kyuoka, Kenji and you even met Itto and Arataki's Gang. They were a loud, but friendly bunch.

🐄🐰 One day, Kuki brought a letter from Yae. Alice will wait for you in Fontaine. She even found a way for you to get here.

After tearful goodbye from Yoimiya and her father, you three, under protection of Itto and his gang, reached Ritou's Island.

Where Chiori was waiting for you.

"So, Creator want to capture three teens? How low Teyvat will sink, I wonder? Okay, kids, let's do some dress up."

🐄🐰 For the next few days, you, Kenji and Kyuoka, dressed in Fontaine clothes, were pissing as Chiori's workers, who were helping to get silk from Inazuma to Fontaine.

Trip were doing fine.

You were so close to getting home.

You just need to find Alice.

🐄🐰In her letter Alice mentioned, that she attends all performances in Opera House. Chiori managed to get tickets for three of you on one of it.

You three celebrated by going to the wilderness and having a picnic.

Unfortunately, Lyney and Lynette saw you three. And Demon Snow, who helped you to cut food. They knew what they must do. Father will be proud.

🐄🐰It happened one week ago. One week ago, when during the preference, Lyney and Lynette blew your cover. One week of captivity. One week of being separated from Kenji and Kyuoka. One week of Alice trying to get you out of captivity. One week of Chiori being under arrest.

You, tortured and bloodied, were standing before Ivory Throne. Lyney and Lynette were standing near Creator's throne. Gold medals were shining on their chests. Creator, your exact double, were grinning. They finally got you.

You heard the sounds of chains. You barely managed to make out Kyuoka's and Kenji's silhouettes.

Creator wanted to break them. Show your broken body.

Big mistake.

You heard screams. Sounds of stones crumbling.

Kenji's growling.

"I must help [Y/N]!"

Kyuoka's hissing.

"Demon Snow, destroy everyone, who hurt [Y/N]!"

You wanted home so bad. It was so wrong, to see Kyouka killing again. To see Kenji angry.

You wished, you three would be home.

Portal opened under your feet.

______

👘🗡️🌂 Fukuzawa Yukichi and Koyouou Ozaki weren't sleeping. They were discussing, what they should do next, trying to find your three.

👘🗡️🌂 Their train of thoughts was interrupted by a loud rumbling, coming from the barn. It was loud enough to woke everyone's up.

👘🗡️🌂 In the barn were you three, and two strange people. Kyouka was holding her knife above Lynette, while Kenji was trying to throw a bolder at Lyney.

And you were laying on the floor. Wounded, but alive.

👘🗡️🌂 It took Dazai's nullification, Fukuzawa 'turning off' Kyouka's and Kenji's abilities, Fukuchi's and Tetchou's strength to drag Kyouka and Kenji from Lyney and Lynette.

They will be dealt later. Now, you three are main priority.

______

👘🗡️🌂🐄🐰You three still were dealing with aftermath of Teyvat's events. You were guarding Kenji's and Kyouka's rooms at night. Kenji refused to eat. Kyouka was using Demon Snow to patrol the house. You three were now under Kunikida's watch. He was making sure, that you three were eating and sleeping. Fukuzawa and Koyouou were staying near. To console you, to protect you. They will make sure, that you will never need to be afraid of loosing your lives.

______

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters

#self-awarebsd #self-awareau #bungou stray dogs au #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #platonic #sagau impostor au #imposter sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau #imposter au #Self-Aware Kenji Miyazawa #Self-Aware Kyouka Izumi

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fanficapologist · 27 days

Text

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Ninety-Seven

The letter was sent the following morning by raven, its black wings cutting through the dawn sky, carrying Maera’s final plea for peace to Kings Landing. Within a few hours, the Black Queen would have received it, the delicate script of Maera’s hand laid bare before her, a final attempt to avoid the horrors of war.

However, two weeks had passed since then, and no reply had come. Each morning, Maera woke with a knot of anticipation in her chest, half expecting some notification, some shred of response, but it never arrived. The silence from the Capital was deafening, and it filled her with a growing anxiety that gnawed at her resolve. The lack of a reply made her question whether she should have attempted this last endeavor for peace at all.

As she sat at the breakfast table one morning, Maera could hardly bring herself to eat. The knot in her stomach made every bite of food unappealing, and she found herself merely picking at her plate, jabbing at the food with her fork. Her green eyes, usually so full of fire and determination, were distant as she stared out of the window across the sea.

She could see Blackwater Bay in the distance, its waters a dark, brooding blue under the morning sky. Somewhere beyond those waters was the towers of the Red Keep, where the Black Queen resided—where Rhaenyra sat, openly ignoring the letter that had cost Maera so much effort, so much hope. The waves crashed rhythmically against the shore, but their soothing sound only served to heighten her unease.

What was Rhaenyra thinking? Was she plotting? Waiting? Or did the letter simply mean nothing to her at all? The uncertainty gnawed at Maera, and she felt a wave of nausea rise within her. This waiting game felt more excruciating than any battle she could have prepared for, and the silence from across the water was becoming unbearable.

“Your fretting with not change the outcome,” a voice interrupted her spiraling thoughts. Maera’s eyes flicked back to the table, where her husband, the King, sat opposite her. On his knee, he bounced Aemara, their daughter, who was utterly fixated on the spoon in her father’s hand as he fed himself. The little girl reached out desperately, tiny fingers grasping at the air, eager to try the oatmeal that Aemond was enjoying.

The Queen couldn’t help but frown slightly at her husband. Aemond attended to his duties as if nothing was amiss, as if the looming silence from Kings Landing wasn’t a dark cloud hanging over them both. He seemed so unbothered, so calm, and it silently annoyed her. How could he carry on as if this unanswered letter didn’t have the potential to alter the course of the war? As if the fate of their future wasn’t hanging in the balance with each passing day?

When no reply came, Aemond spoke again, his voice steady and assured. “We extended the olive branch, Maera. All we can do now is wait.” As if to emphasize his point, Aemara squealed happily on his lap, her impatience finally rewarded as Aemond gave in and offered her a spoonful of oatmeal. She chewed on it with a delighted gurgle, utterly content in her father’s arms.

Maera continued to push the food around her plate, her appetite completely diminished by the gnawing anxiety in her gut. She had requested eggs, but the very sight of them now made her wrinkle her nose in distaste. With a sigh, she finally spoke, her voice tinged with frustration and unease. “I’ve never been good at waiting.”

Aemond glanced at her, his single eye observing her closely. “I know,” he replied softly, his tone holding a hint of understanding. Aemara angrily babbled on Aemond's lap, her small face scrunching up in a display of frustration as she waited for more food. Aemond couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight, and he dutifully gave the baby another spoonful of oatmeal.

He looked over at Maera, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It seems our daughter has inherited your impatience,” he said with a light-hearted tone.

The clatter of Maera’s fork dropping onto her plate broke the brief moment of levity. She snapped at him, her voice sharp, “Better that than inheriting your impulsivity.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. She put her head in her hands, groaning in frustration.

When she finally looked up, she saw Aemond’s reaction—a clenched jaw, his brow raised in surprise at her harsh retort. The silence between them grew thick, and though he didn’t respond, his expression spoke volumes.

Maera shook her head, exhaling deeply to release the tension. She reached across the table, her fingers lightly brushing against his before she squeezed his hand in a gesture of reconciliation. “Sorry,” she muttered quietly, her eyes searching his for forgiveness.

Aemond studied Maera’s face for a long moment, his sharp eye taking in the weariness etched into her features. Without a word, he leaned down and kissed Aemara on the head, the gesture tender and deliberate. Then, with a purposeful grace, he rose from his seat, walked over to Maera, and gently placed their daughter into her arms.

The Queen took the child gladly, holding the small, warm body close to her chest. She nuzzled her nose into the soft, silver hair that mirrored her own, breathing in the sweet, innocent scent of her daughter. The simple act helped to steady her racing thoughts, grounding her in the present moment.

She felt Aemond’s rough hand cup her cheek, his calloused thumb brushing gently over her skin. Maera leaned into the touch, finding comfort in the familiar feel of his hand. When she looked up, her green eyes met his single violet one, searching for reassurance.

“Be patient,” Aemond said, his voice low and steady, a command wrapped in a gentle plea. Maera held his gaze, trying to absorb the calmness he radiated, even as her own anxiety swirled within her.

“Distract yourself,” Aemond continued, his tone softening as he offered her a way to cope with the waiting. He glanced out of the window, where the morning sun glinted off the distant waves of Blackwater Bay. “Patrolling with Ēbrion this afternoon will clear your mind.”

His words carried a quiet wisdom, a suggestion born of understanding. Maera nodded, her resolve strengthening slightly as she considered the familiar routine of flying with her dragon. It was a small solace, but a needed one.

Aemond bent lower, his breath warm against Maera’s ear as he brought his lips close, so close that she could feel the soft graze of his mouth against her skin. His voice dropped to a seductive whisper, a teasing edge to his tone that sent a shiver down her spine.

"And I’ll act as your distraction this evening," he murmured, each word deliberately slow, his intent clear. "Keeping you occupied well into the night."

Maera felt a small smile tugging at her lips, warmth flooding her chest despite the weight of the day’s worries. She tried to suppress the smile, to maintain some semblance of seriousness, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her, curving upwards ever so slightly.

“Ok.” She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief as she brushed her nose against his in a gentle, affectionate gesture. Aemond responded by planting a soft, chaste kiss on her lips, the touch brief but filled with the promise of more to come.

But the kiss didn't last long. Aemara, ever curious and eager for attention, reached up and tugged on her father's silver hair with a determined little fist. The unexpected pull made both Aemond and Maera break apart with a giggle, the sound light and filled with the shared joy of parenthood.

Aemond straightened, his amused eye meeting Maera's as they both chuckled softly at their daughter's interruption. The brief laughter brought a bit of warmth back into the room, a small reminder that even amidst the tension, they could still find moments of happiness together.

As much as Maera adored spending time with her Ladies after breaking her fast, their lighthearted chatter and the comfort of their company did little to ease the gnawing anxiety twisting her stomach into knots. Every smile she forced and every polite response she offered felt hollow, as though her mind was elsewhere. The constant undercurrent of worry, the anticipation of what might come, left her feeling nauseous and on edge. No matter how much she tried to immerse herself in their conversations, her thoughts always drifted back to the unanswered letter and the looming uncertainty.

True relief only came later in the day, during her afternoon patrol on Ēbrion. Aemond had been right; the moment she took to the skies, the weight on her chest lightened, the vast expanse of the world below offering a sense of freedom that nothing else could. As Ēbrion soared across the waters, his powerful wings cutting through the air with effortless grace, Maera felt the tension in her muscles slowly unwind. His black and blue scales shimmered in the sunlight, and his vivid orange eyes gleamed with a predatory sharpness as they scanned the horizon.

From high above, Maera spied boats in the Blackwater, their sails billowing in the wind as they cut through the waves. She kept a careful distance, ensuring that she did not venture too close to the territory controlled by the Blacks. The last thing she wanted was to provoke a reaction, especially in such a delicate time. The sight of the ships, the peaceful ebb and flow of the sea, brought a momentary calm to her restless mind.

After ensuring all was well in the waters, Maera veered her dragon westward, towards the Stormlands. The rugged landscape stretched out before her, a tapestry of rolling hills and dense forests, where the border of the Crownlands met the Stormlands. Ēbrion’s powerful wings beat steadily as they patrolled the area, Maera’s keen eyes scanning the terrain below for any signs of trouble. The wind whipped through her hair, carrying away the remnants of her earlier anxiety.

The weather was as she expected: heavily clouded, with dark, brooding skies that seemed to threaten rain at any moment, but Maera remained undeterred. The tempestuous weather was a familiar comfort to her; after all, she had been born in these lands. The chill in the air and the scent of impending rain brought with them a sense of home, grounding her as she rode her dragon through the turbulent skies.

However, the thick cloud cover made patrolling from a high altitude increasingly difficult. The clouds were dense and unyielding, obscuring her view of the land below.

“Embrot.” Down.

With a firm command, the Queen guided Ēbrion to descend slightly, bringing them closer to the ground where visibility would be clearer. The dragon obeyed, his massive form slicing through the clouds with ease as they descended into the swirling mists.

As Ēbrion leveled out, Maera scanned the terrain below, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. Nothing appeared alarming or out of place. Small encampments dotted the landscape as she ventured south, their banners flapping violently in the wind. The familiar yellow and black colors of House Baratheon were prominent, and beside them, the black banner emblazoned with a green three-headed dragon—the symbol of the Greens—was unmistakable, a clear declaration of allegiance.

From her elevated position, Maera could still make out the movements of the soldiers below. They looked up, their faces a mixture of alarm and awe as they caught sight of the massive dragon circling above them. Despite their apparent unease, the soldiers made no move to attack or flee from their postings, simply observing, seemingly knowing, probably from colour and size, that Ēbrion was of no threat.

The sight brought Maera some reassurance. The Stormlands remained secure, their defenses strong, and no immediate threat loomed on the horizon. With a final glance at the encampments, Maera directed Ēbrion back towards Dragonstone, the beast’s wings carrying them effortlessly through the stormy skies.

The Queen cast a final, sweeping gaze over the border of the Stormlands, her keen eyes taking in the dense forests and rugged terrain below. The trees, thick and ancient, stood like silent sentinels along the edge of the Kingswood, their leaves rustling in the strong winds. The ground was uneven, covered in patches of wild grass and scattered with rocks, the earth beneath them dark and rich.

She was just about to direct Ēbrion to depart when something caught her eye—a sudden glint of metal that flashed briefly through the trees. Furrowing her brow in suspicion, Maera gently pulled on the reins, urging Ēbrion to turn back around for a closer look. The dragon responded immediately, his powerful wings cutting through the air as they circled back and began a gradual descent toward the source of the gleam.

As they swooped near the ground, Maera’s eyes narrowed in focus. She saw a group of knights standing at the edge of the Kingswood, their armor catching the occasional beam of light that pierced through the thick clouds. At first glance, there was nothing particularly unusual about the sight—knights patrolling the borders were common enough in these troubled times. But as she guided Ēbrion even lower, her suspicions grew.

No word had been sent to Maera that the Baratheon forces would be venturing beyond the border into the Crownlands, as Borros Baratheon did not want to incite an attack. The knights’ movements were deliberate, but there was an air of secrecy about them. They seemed to be taking great care to remain unnoticed, their figures half-concealed by the trees as they stood on the edge of the border.

More soldiers emerged from the cover of the trees, their numbers steadily growing as they stepped into the open. Some were mounted on horses, their armor clanking with each movement, while others marched on foot, gripping swords and shields with grim determination. Many carried bows and arrows, their hands poised to strike. The air around them seemed charged with tension, their formations tight and disciplined. Yet, something about them was off—there was no sign of the Baratheon stag, nor the banner of the Greens. There was no display of loyalty, no sigil declaring their allegiance.

Maera’s heart quickened as she scanned the gathering force below, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. It was then that the realization hit her like a cold wave. These soldiers bore no marks of honor, no sigils to indicate their loyalty to any house within the Stormlands. These were not Baratheon soldiers, nor were they allied with the Greens. They were something else entirely—Black soldiers, forces loyal to Rhaenyra, about to invade Green territory.

Before Maera could react, Ēbrion sensed the danger. The dragon let out a fierce, thunderous roar that echoed through the stormy skies, reverberating off the trees and sending waves of terror through the soldiers below. The sudden, deafening sound threw the soldiers into a panic, and chaos erupted in their ranks. Horses reared up, their riders struggling to maintain control, while those on foot scrambled in disarray.

Arrows were loosed in a panicked response, their sharp tips glinting as they shot through the air, aimed desperately at the massive beast above. Maera instinctively flattened herself against the saddle, the cold, hard leather pressing against her as she avoided the deadly projectiles. The arrows zipped past her, some clattering harmlessly against Ēbrion’s thick scales, while others missed entirely, lost to the wind.

“Pālētēs, Ēbrion! Angōs!” Evasive manoeuvres! Attack!

The dragon swooped closer to the treetops, his massive wings beating with terrifying power. The wind from his descent sent leaves and branches whipping through the air, and the closer the dragon came, the more the army below descended into chaos. Panic spread like wildfire; many soldiers, overwhelmed with fear, turned their horses and bolted, fleeing back into the safety of the woods. Others, their courage failing them, simply abandoned their posts and ran on foot, desperate to escape the wrath of the dragon.

But there would be no escape. With a roar that shook the very ground, Ēbrion unleashed a torrent of fire from his maw, the flames bursting forth like a river of molten fury. The searing heat radiated outward as the dragon strafed the ground along the border, his fiery breath scorching the earth in a deadly line of destruction. The flames roared to life, spreading quickly across the grass and dry brush, creating a blazing barrier between the soldiers and the Stormlands beyond.

The fire swept through the ranks of the enemy, and those caught in its path were immediately engulfed. Soldiers screamed in agony, their armor and clothing catching fire as they flailed about in a desperate attempt to extinguish the flames. Some dropped to the ground, rolling and writhing in futile efforts to douse the inferno consuming them. Others ran, their bodies ablaze, only to collapse into lifeless heaps as the fire took them.

The border was transformed into a hellish landscape of smoke and flame, the inferno stretching out like a wall of death, a stark declaration to the enemy forces that any attempt to cross into the Stormlands would be met with fiery devastation.

From her vantage point high above, Maera watched the destruction below with a heart pounding in her chest. Ēbrion’s fire had wrought devastation on the battlefield, the roaring flames consuming the enemy forces and forcing them to retreat. The sight of men burning, screaming in terror, filled her with a strange mix of horror and resolve. It was a terrible thing to witness, yet in her heart, Maera knew it had been necessary. The alternative—an all-out battle, with countless more lives lost—was far worse. The fire had saved the Stormlands from invasion, and in doing so, had perhaps prevented even greater bloodshed. This reasoning, as harsh as it was, brought her a sense of peace amid the chaos.

But that peace was short-lived.

Without warning, a bright fireball streaked through the sky, slamming into Ēbrion’s face with a blinding explosion of light and heat. The dragon let out a thunderous screech, shaking his massive head in pain as the force of the impact rocked them both. Maera’s heart lurched in her chest as she felt the shockwave of the attack vibrate through her entire body.

She frantically looked down at Ēbrion, her eyes wide with fear. Her heart stuttered as she searched for any signs of injury. To her relief, the dragon seemed unharmed—his thick scales had protected him from the worst of the fireball. The rider’s green eyes darted around in alarm, attempting to get her bearings amidst the chaos. A shadow passed over them, blotting out the sun, causing her breath to catch in her throat.

Another dragon, its silhouette dark against the sky, swooped down on them from above. The beast unleashed a torrent of flame, its fiery breath raining down toward them. Instinctively, Maera ducked, flattening herself against the saddle as the flames roared overhead. Her hands gripped the ropes attached to the saddle with all her might, her knuckles turning white. The heat was intense, nearly unbearable, but she forced herself to stay calm.

“Dokimarvose! Geptot jās!” Focus! Move left!

She yanked on the ropes, urging Ēbrion to turn, to catch sight of their assailant. Her heart pounded in her ears as she desperately tried to gain control of the situation, her mind racing to figure out who was trying to kill them.

Ēbrion responded to her commands, his powerful wings beating against the air as he banked sharply, turning to face their attacker. The dragon’s eyes, usually so calm and calculating, were now blazing with fury as he roared in challenge, ready to defend his rider and his territory from this sudden, violent threat.

The beast attacking them was much smaller, a nimble creature that darted through the sky with alarming speed and agility. Its pale green scales shimmered as the sunlight pierced through the clouds, reflecting off its pearlescent horns with an almost ethereal glow. Despite its smaller size, the dragon’s swiftness made it a formidable opponent, weaving through the air with practiced ease.

Maera’s eyes narrowed as she locked onto the rider. The girl was young, her silver hair curly and wild, contrasting starkly with the blood-red cloth she wore. Even from a distance, Maera could see the confidence in the girl’s posture, the way she guided her dragon with practiced precision, clearly experience in the art of dragon riding. As another fireball flew towards them, the Queen was consumed with rage, and had had enough of this dance. A low growl of frustration escaped her lips as she tightened her grip on the reins.

“Naejot!” Forward! She commanded, her voice ringing out through the wind. Ēbrion responded instantly, his powerful wings beating hard as he surged toward the smaller dragon. The air around them whipped into a frenzy as they closed the distance, Maera’s heart pounding with a mix of fear and adrenaline.

But she knew she needed an advantage. The smaller dragon’s speed made it difficult to land a decisive blow, and the rider’s skill only added to the challenge. Maera’s mind raced as she considered her options, and then it came to her—she needed the higher ground.

“Vēzot, Ēbrion!” Up! she shouted, pulling back hard on the reins. Ēbrion roared in response, his muscles straining as he ascended, pushing through the clouds. The air grew thinner and colder as they climbed, but Maera’s resolve only hardened. If she could gain the higher ground, she would have greater control.

They soared higher and higher, the clouds enveloping them in a thick, misty shroud. For a moment, the world below disappeared entirely, leaving only the sound of Ēbrion’s powerful wings beating against the sky and the thudding of Maera’s heart in her ears.

The other rider followed their ascent, her smaller dragon trailing just behind Ēbrion as they climbed higher into the sky. The girl was relentless, her dragon unleashing a volley of fireballs in their wake, but Ēbrion was ready. With a fierce snap of his jaws, he tried to catch the fiery projectiles mid-air, the force of his bite causing the flames to dissipate harmlessly. His massive body twisted in the air, his wings beating with such strength that the gusts sent the smaller dragon spiraling off course, momentarily throwing the rider's aim.

The smaller dragon might have had the advantage of speed, darting through the sky with agility and grace, but Ēbrion had something far more formidable—raw power. His every movement was filled with a force that could shake the very air around them, and Maera used this to her advantage. She held tight to the reins, urging her dragon to keep pushing higher, feeling the wind whipping past her face as they climbed.

As they broke through the top of the clouds, the sunlight burst forth, bathing them in its brilliant light. The smaller dragon had followed them into the sky, but now found itself beneath Ēbrion, perfectly positioned for Maera to strike. The light glinted off the pale green scales of the smaller beast, but it was no match for the massive shadow that loomed above.

"Sīr!" Now! Maera commanded, her voice strong and resolute.

Obeying his rider's command, Ēbrion tucked his wings close to his body and dived straight down, turning their sheer size and power into an unstoppable force. The wind howled in Maera's ears as they plummeted toward the smaller dragon, the air around them roaring with the speed of their descent. The younger dragon, though quick, was not fast enough to evade the gigantic form bearing down on it. It had no choice but to fall with them, trapped by the sheer momentum of Ēbrion's dive.

The ground rushed up to meet them, and Maera's heart pounded in her chest. She could see the landscape below, the trees and hills growing larger with every passing second. She waited until the last possible moment, feeling the adrenaline surge through her veins, before yanking back on the reins with all her might.

Ēbrion responded instantly, his wings snapping open to catch the air and slow their descent. They pulled up just in time, skimming the treetops as they leveled out, the force of their near-fall sending shockwaves through the air. The other rider managed to pull up as well, her dragon narrowly avoiding a crash.

But Maera was not prepared to let them get away.

With a fierce determination burning in her eyes, she urged Ēbrion forward, closing the distance between them. The younger dragon struggled to regain its balance after the sudden dive, but Maera could see the fear in the rider's eyes as she realized she was now at a disadvantage. The smaller dragon's speed was no longer enough to save them.

“Dracarys!”

With a swift, merciless movement, he opened his massive jaws, unleashing a torrent of flame that engulfed the smaller dragon and its rider. The intense heat and blinding light consumed everything in its path, turning the pale green dragon into a writhing silhouette against the backdrop of the sky.

The smaller dragon thrashed desperately within the inferno, its body spinning wildly as it tried to shield its rider from the searing flames. Despite its agility, there was no escaping Ebrion's relentless assault. The green beast roared in pain, its scales glowing with the heat as it turned to face its attacker, trying to protect the young rider on its back. But it was a futile effort.

Sensing his prey's weakness, Ēbrion closed in with predatory precision. His enormous body loomed over the smaller dragon, his eyes burning with a savage intensity.

In one swift, brutal motion, he lunged forward, his powerful jaws clamping down on one of the dragon's wings. There was a sickening crack as bone and sinew gave way under the force of his bite, followed by a spray of blood that stained the air. With a mighty pull, Ebrion tore the wing clean off, the shredded membrane trailing in the wind like a tattered flag.

The smaller dragon's anguished roar split the sky as it hurtled uncontrollably toward the ground, spinning out of control as it bled profusely. It spiraled downward, a helpless, flailing mass of green scales and flames. The rider clung desperately to its back, but there was no saving the beast now. The ground rushed up to meet them, the once-majestic dragon now a broken, burning wreck.

With a thunderous crash, the dragon slammed into the earth, its body crumpling near the flaming line Maera had previously drawn along the border. The impact sent a shockwave through the ground, scattering debris and sending up a plume of smoke and ash.

The forest smoldered with a grim intensity, the once-vibrant trees now reduced to blackened husks. Smoke curled lazily upward, hanging heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of burning wood and charred earth. The undergrowth, once thick and green, was now a sea of ash and embers, glowing faintly in the dim light that filtered through the canopy above. Here and there, small fires crackled and sputtered, struggling to cling to life as they consumed what little fuel remained.

The devastation was absolute, a stark reminder of the destructive power of dragons. The ground beneath Maera’s feet was uneven, pockmarked with deep gouges where the flames had seared through the soil. Every step she took stirred up a cloud of ash, the fine particles clinging to the hem of her leather skirt and the soles of her boots.

She had dismounted from Ēbrion, leaving the massive dragon to stand guard nearby, his eyes still blazing with the remnants of battle. The beast’s immense form cast a long shadow over the desolate landscape, his chest rising and falling with each slow, measured breath. Though the flames had died down, the air still buzzed with residual heat, causing Maera’s skin to prickle beneath the leather of her attire.

As she walked through the devastation, Maera’s eyes scanned the ground, searching for any sign of the fallen dragon and its rider. The trees, once towering sentinels of the forest, now stood as little more than skeletal remains, their branches twisted and gnarled, reaching up to the sky in silent agony. Patches of scorched earth crunched underfoot, each step bringing her closer to the site of the crash.

The silence was broken only by the distant sound of yelling from the Black army, their voices carrying faintly through the smoke-filled air. But Maera was not deterred. She knew that no matter how many soldiers might come, none would dare challenge her, not with Ēbrion standing just beyond the tree line. The dragon’s presence was a deterrent stronger than any fortress, a reminder of the raw power she commanded.

The forest had fallen into an eerie stillness, an unnatural quiet that pressed heavily on Maera as she moved deeper into the woods. The devastation around her seemed to muffle all sound, the crackle of dying flames and the rustling of her own footsteps the only noises that broke the oppressive silence. The air was thick with the acrid stench of smoke and charred wood, making each breath feel heavy and strained.

As Maera pressed forward, she stumbled upon a clearing, where the destruction was at its most profound. The trees surrounding the open space were broken and splintered, their trunks shattered by the force of the dragon's fall. The ground was scorched, blackened earth stretching out in every direction, littered with fragments of wood and stone that had been torn apart by the impact.

In the center of the clearing lay a pile of twisted remains-the body of the smaller dragon. Barely visible beneath a thick layer of soot and debris, the creature's once-lustrous green scales had been dulled and cracked by the searing heat. Its body was contorted in death, limbs bent at unnatural angles, the remaining wing torn and shredded beyond recognition. The sight was a tragic one, the majestic beast reduced to a lifeless heap, a testament to the horrors of the war that pitted dragon against dragon.

Maera felt a pang of guilt twist in her chest as she gazed upon the fallen creature. Dragons were rare enough as it was, half the eggs laid never hatching. To know that they were now being forced to kill one another, to tear each other apart in the name of war, filled her with a deep sadness.

But it was not just the dragon that caught Maera's attention. In the middle of the carcass, amid the wreckage of scales and broken bones, lay the rider. The young woman was barely moving, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. Her silver curls, once bright and shining, were now matted with blood, the vibrant strands darkened by the grime of battle. Her rider's attire, once a bold red like fresh blood, was now filthy and tattered, smeared with soot and ash.

Maera stood frozen for a moment, staring down at the girl who had moments ago been her enemy, now broken and vulnerable on the scorched earth. The contrast between the violence that had brought them to this moment and the fragility of the life before her was stark.

The Queen carefully climbed over the remains of the dragon, the heat from the smoldering scales seeping into her boots as she navigated the twisted mass of flesh and bone. The ground beneath her was unsteady, each step a precarious balancing act as she moved closer to the fallen rider. Her breath was shallow, both from the physical exertion and the tension coiled tight in her chest. As she neared the young woman, she could see her more clearly-lying on her stomach, her head pulled forward, her entire body shaking

"Can you hear me?" Maera called out softly, her voice low and unthreatening, doing her best to temper any menace. "It’s over now." But just as the words left her lips, she gasped as a force suddenly shoved her backward.

“Fuck!” The world tilted as pain exploded through her chest. Staggering, Maera looked down to see an arrow lodged deep below her collarbone, its shaft quivering with the force of the impact. Blood spilled from the wound, warm and sticky as it ran down the black leather of her attire.

Her gaze snapped back up, and she saw the broken rider, bruised, bloodied, but with a crossbow in her trembling hands, aimed squarely at Maera. Despite the woman's fragile state, her aim had been true, and her resolve hadn't wavered.

With a groan, Maera reached up and snapped the arrow, leaving the metal head embedded in her flesh, a flare of pain scorching through her as she tossed the broken shaft aside. Determination fueled her as she stalked forward, unsheathing her sword with a fluid motion. The rider's eyes widened in fear as she struggled to reload the crossbow, her movements desperate and frantic.

But Maera was quicker. With a swift, powerful kick, she sent the crossbow skittering across the scorched earth, far out of the rider's reach. The young woman barely had time to react before Maera had her sword at her throat, the blade pressing against her skin with a cold, unyielding pressure. The rider's breath hitched, her eyes locked on Maera's, wide with terror but still burning with defiance.

The Queen pressed the edge of her sword against the rider’s throat, the blade’s cold steel glinting ominously as she moved it from side to side, studying the young woman’s face. Though battered and burned beyond easy recognition, there was something unmistakable about her features—this was no mere Dragonseed. The realization settled in Maera’s mind, her heart sinking with the weight of the conclusion

“Lady Baela, I presume?” Maera remarked, her tone measured, though she couldn’t suppress the tension underlying it. The thought of facing Daemon’s daughter, one of the Blacks’ most renowned dragonriders, only added to the gravity of the moment.

Lady Baela bared her teeth in a defiant growl, her voice raw and ragged as she spat back, “Lady Maera.” There was no honorific, no acknowledgment of Maera’s title as queen, just a name spat with all the venom Baela could muster.

Maera sighed, noting the lack of respect but choosing not to dwell on it. She was not prideful, and in this moment, titles and formalities felt irrelevant. “It seems you’ve inherited your father’s skill as a dragonrider,” Maera said, a sly smile curving her lips despite the pain radiating from her wound. Her gaze flicked briefly to the twisted, smoldering remains of the smaller dragon. “It’s a shame your beast was caught in the crossfire. A tragic loss, truly.”

Baela’s face twisted with anger as she spat out a mouthful of blood, the dark red liquid staining her lips. “You must get along well with your husband,” she sneered, her voice dripping with bitterness. Maera’s brow furrowed in confusion, but before she could ask what Baela meant, the young woman continued, her words cutting like a knife. “Seems like you both enjoy slaughtering your own kin.”

The accusation hung in the air between them, sharp and piercing. Maera’s grip on her sword tightened, her expression hardening as the full weight of Baela’s words sank in. Her gaze remained fixed on the dragon rider, her voice steady as she asked, “Is that what you think I want to do?”

Baela laughed, a harsh sound that echoed through the smoldering remains of the forest. Despite her swollen eye, barely able to open, there was a gleam of defiant joy in the other, a fire that hadn’t been extinguished by the brutal clash. “Just get on with it,” Baela rasped, her tone laced with mockery and resignation.

For a moment, Maera hesitated, the sharp edge of her sword still pressed firmly against Baela’s throat. The heat of the nearby flames mixed with the smell of charred earth and blood, thick in the air, but Maera’s mind was elsewhere, weighed down by the heavy burden of choice. So many had already been lost in this relentless war. She stared down at Baela, her expression hardening, yet something within her softened. Baela’s dragon was dead, her strength sapped. She was no longer a threat, just another casualty of this endless, merciless conflict.

A different path presented itself to Maera, one that hadn’t seemed possible until this very moment. The Mother had shown her a path of mercy, one where no more blood need be spilled today.

Maera slowly shook her head, the decision made in her heart before her hand followed. She sheathed her sword with a resolute click, stepping back. “Too many of us are dead already,” she murmured, the weight of the conflict visible in the way her shoulders sagged slightly.

Baela’s expression flickered from defiance to confusion, even surprise. The grip of death that she had been bracing for did not come, and she remained breathing, albeit heavily, battered but alive.

Maera’s voice grew firmer, more determined, as she continued, “I sent your Queen a letter, a chance for peace, but she has not replied. Tell her that we expect a response by the turn of the moon. Before she loses any more dragons or riders.” Her words were laced with the authority of her position, leaving no room for negotiation.

She watched as the realization dawned in Baela’s eyes, the younger woman’s defiance dimming slightly as she understood that she had been spared, though the reason why was something she might never grasp fully. Finally, she nodded, the fight in her eyes dimming into something more resigned, her earlier defiance replaced by a reluctant acceptance.

The Queen watched as she tried to stand, the effort drawing a wince from the young woman. Her clothes, torn and charred, revealed patches of burnt and bloodied skin beneath. Baela’s movements were awkward and pained, and it didn’t take long for Maera to notice the unnatural angle of one leg, likely broken from the fall.

Maera huffed softly, her frustration tempered by a sense of duty. She stepped forward, extending a hand to Baela. "Come now. Let me get you back to the border," she offered, her voice even, almost kind.

But Baela recoiled, yanking her hand away as if Maera’s touch burned her. "I don’t need your help," she spat, her voice thick with stubborn pride despite her evident pain.

Maera stood there, watching as Baela limped away into the undergrowth, her steps slow and labored, each movement a struggle. The girl was fiery, just like her father, and Maera couldn’t help but respect that tenacity, even in the face of overwhelming odds.

The sound of large footsteps crunching through the scorched earth drew Maera’s attention. She turned to see Ēbrion approaching, his massive form looming over her as he let out a soft growl, a low, comforting rumble. But as she moved, a sharp pain flared in her shoulder, forcing a gasp from her lips. Maera pressed a hand to the wound just below her collarbone, feeling the warm stickiness of blood seeping through her fingers, the arrowhead still buried deep within her muscles.

She winced, leaning slightly against Ēbrion’s side, his warmth offering a small comfort against the pain. Her mind raced, the events of the past moments replaying themselves as she looked out at the smoldering forest, knowing that whilst mercy seemed to be the right path, it had its own price.

Notes: oooooh we got some dragon battle, shiiiittt 😱😳

Tags: @0eessirk8 @magicseahorse @blue-serendipity @abecerra611 @saltedcaramelpretzel @marvelescvpe @watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek @thelastemzy @kckt88 @darylandbethfanforever9

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

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1d1195 · 1 year

Text

Protection I

Okay I did the quickest of Google searches to get some of this info, please don't hold it against me. I have no idea what I’m doing as usual.

Hope you enjoy, I'm looking forward to writing more of it.

5.2k words

“Y’could’ve jus’ asked,” he called from behind her. “S’dangerous t’walk alone this late at night.”

She rolled her eyes, not that he could see it. “No one is going to try and kidnap me for political purposes on a Wednesday night while I get a drink with friends,” she told him.

“Love, s’not what I meant,” he said gently.

Harry was ready.

He ironed a white button-down shirt and paired it with a blue tie. He put on a grey suitcoat over it to match the slacks he picked out along with black dress shoes that he had long since broken in. In fact, he thought he could probably run a marathon in them if necessary.

He looked over his freshly shaven face, rubbing his jaw with a face lotion his sister got him for his birthday last year. He used the mirror to fix a few astray pieces of hair that refused to sit neatly but not perfectly flat on his head. Part of him wished he didn’t volunteer to do this because his stomach was flipping with anxiety. Sure, he was used to this. Used to the nerves and the first day jitters. It was a good job and was hopefully going to be a great way to see the country. While his English accent made him stick out a bit, it also helped him blend a bit into the background; no one would think that Harry was a special agent there to protect a family member of the US cabinet.

Plus, he was doing Niall a huge favor. Niall was the one that got Harry a job with the Diplomatic Security Service in the first place, so he owed it to Niall to at least try. Make his friend look good and not ruin his reputation. One of Niall’s favorite coworkers was the one that trained Harry to be an agent for the DSS, since Niall wasn’t one. But Niall was the one that had heard horror stories of the girl that wreaked havoc on many of the agents put in place to protect her. Going toe to toe with her meant a more...fulfilling job...after a couple months. At least that’s what Niall had heard and shared with Harry.

“I don’t know what her issue is Harry. But you’re all but DSS’s last hope,” he said. Niall didn’t have to take a round against her. He wasn’t an agent in the protection division. He sat behind a desk going over paperwork. Frequently the paperwork assigning and reassigning the girl’s security detail. But he knew Harry needed a job and he was happy to recommend him. He vouched for him, but Niall was certain the agency would have taken someone off the street and thrown them in the ring at this stage in the game.

Harry was on the younger side. Close to her age, so he had been told in the interview. Maybe that would help. He seemed unfazed. It was just a job. She was just a girl. They had to protect her. But through all he heard, it didn’t sound like they really wanted to protect her all that much anymore.

How much trouble could a twenty-four-year-old graduate biochemistry student get up to?

Niall wished him luck as Harry was debriefed once more about his job. Keep an eye on her, run checks on people she interacts with, make sure she doesn’t die. “Her father is Secretary of State,” they reminded Harry.

Harry nodded. “Got it.”

He took the address that was sent to him into his phone’s GPS and followed the directions to the apartment complex in the small, undercover black SUV issued to him. There was bulletproof glass protecting him from the outside world and tinted windows hiding him through the glass. His mum messaged him.

Good luck, honey bun!

He smirked. Harry may have been twenty-nine, but his Mum’s messages made him feel like a little kid. He adored her, all the way across the pond recognizing what time it was so she could make sure to send him a good luck text as she always had; first day of university, first real job, or even just a trip to the dentist (Harry hated the dentist).

The little apartment complex was inconspicuous. There wasn’t anything special about it, just a brick building with several floors—it couldn’t have been more than 8 apartments. A buzzer door and buttons along the side. The code was sent to him to let himself in.

It’s just a girl. He reminded himself.

Harry took the stairs to the top and fourth floor. It gave him time to calm his nerves and plan his approach based on the way he heard the tales from coworkers. Maybe he would try and befriend her? Harry was down to be friends with her if she wanted. Or maybe that was a bad idea. Maybe he should just try and out-stubborn her. Harry and Gemma used to have contests about who could hold their breath longest when they were young. Harry wasn’t against passing out in the name of winning.

The final steps to her apartment were silent. The current agent at the door looked at Harry with relief. He saluted him, muttered good luck, and hurried back down. Surprised by the immediate departure, Harry gently knocked on the door. The man didn’t even confirm that Harry was his relief. “DSS,” he said quietly to the door.

It took a moment, but at once the door was out of the way. She was shorter than Harry—which arguably wasn’t hard to do with his six-foot frame. Her hair was pulled back by a clip at the back of her head, some strands falling from it to frame her round face. She had a freckle on her brow line and Harry found it unbelievably cute and surprised himself that it was one of the first things he noticed. The space between her eyebrows was pinched together and Harry wanted to smooth it out because even though she was going to be a pain in his ass, she was adorable. Her eyes scanned him quickly and he hoped despite the stories he had heard that she would at least appreciate his professionalism. Her lips were pressed together—not hard, just...resting against one another. Harry was quick to realize it was the least professional thing he could think of: staring at her mouth.

Mum always re-quoted that the eyes were windows to the soul. It was always the first thing Harry noted when he pursued a girl. He loved the idea of gazing into her eyes and trying to find out more about her just through her irises. Maybe if he looked into hers, he would understand why a short little thing like her could scare an entire division of special agents with varying degrees of combat training or intelligence operations.

Her lips pursed into a mocking smile, and she spoke. “Oh, I get it. Send someone young so I relate to them. Someone that will understand my attitude,” she rolled her eyes. Harry raised his eyebrows at her in surprise. Not even a hello. No introduction. Feisty. Right away.

“I’m sorry?”

“Daddy dearest only sent you here because the last seven agents couldn’t handle the paperwork that I made them do. I escape a lot.”

Harry sighed. “Thought y’were gonna be easy,” it was a fib. He knew she was going to be difficult but maybe if he played the part she wouldn’t be as tough on him.

“Nope,” she said petulantly, like that was going to piss Harry off. He assumed it worked on the others that came before him.

Harry could play the petulant game. He was the younger sibling after all. He nodded. “Got it. Well. M’name is Harry. I won’t bother you. I’ll be here if you’d like t’get t’know me. Or when y’leave,” he pulled the door shut and stood beside it. Hands behind his back, listening to the silence inside the door.

“Is this a joke?” She asked through the wood after a full minute. He didn’t respond. The door opened.

“Going somewhere?” Harry asked without looking at her. He could see her in his peripheral.

“No,” she looked at Harry curiously. “You’re not going to...try?” She wondered.

“Try what?” He asked innocently staring at the wall opposite her door.

She shook her head and sighed. “Uh... I’m sorry,” she said awkwardly, uncomfortableness rang in her voice. Harry turned to her, honestly a bit surprised at how readily she apologized. Didn’t seem like something that would be in her repertoire. “Do you want to come in?” She asked. See? Harry thought. She could be perfectly reasonable. “I have seats... you don’t have to stand out here the whole time,” she murmured.

“Thanks, love,” he said politely and followed her through the doorway. He dropped his bag into a seat closest to the door. It just had the department issued computer inside it.

The space was homey. Again, he was surprised by the contrast of the stories he heard versus the sunny outward appearance. He expected rage which he wasn’t sure how that would translate exactly into interior design, but he thought it would be messy. The only hint of a mess was a spot on the coffee table littered with papers and notebooks and a laptop. The grey sofa was also covered with papers and a plain black backpack.

He did not anticipate it being a pretty place. It could rival a florist shop. There were prints of flowers hung on a white mat with black frames at regular spaced intervals. Vinelike garlands decorated with an array of pink flowers of all sorts draped along the slate blue (nearly grey) painted walls near the top of each of the three walls making up the big room—almost like a bordered edge. The fourth wall was the back of the kitchen and contained various appliances leaving no room for flowers, but Harry thought she probably tried when she moved in anyway.

The whole room was open: the sitting room, the dining area, and the kitchen. There were two loveseat sofas, one a modern grey facing the TV. The other perpendicular to the grey one; a solid navy blue that sat in front of three windows. Each window had a sheer grey curtain that matched the sofa, draped with more vines of flowers across all three windows of course. Between the TV and the grey sofa was a grey coffee table and besides the papers and notebooks, there was of course a little vase with pink sunflowers. A large bookshelf was to the left of her TV stand.

In the back corner beside the door was a round dining table and four mismatched dining chairs where Harry had dropped his bag. Another little vase sat in the middle of the table with more pink flowers. The kitchen smelled yummy. Like bacon. That was as much as he could see from the entryway. There was a short little hall but hidden behind a wall he couldn’t see around but assumed a bedroom and a bathroom were around there.

“S’a very nice place,” he murmured.

She was still staring at him as if he just said he liked to eat handfuls of dirt and drink from the river. “Thank you,” she said kindly after a beat of silence. Like she thought maybe it was a trick. “I...I don’t really have any plans tonight. I’ll be studying for an exam I have tomorrow...you could honestly probably leave if you wanted to,”

He thought she sounded genuine but given all the stories, he wasn’t sure. “I’d rather stay put. I can go back in the hall if that would make you more comfortable,” he suggested. “But may I see the rest of the place or would y’rather I wait till later? When you’re less busy?” He asked.

She blinked almost surprised. Harry imagined she wasn’t used to privacy but since he wanted her to like him, he thought respecting her boundaries was going to be the easiest way to do it. Most of her previous details were older. They probably had children of their own around her age or younger and thought treating her like one of their own and bossing her around would be easy. In all the meetings Harry attended and interviews and explanations of the girl before him not once did they seem to note she was an adult.

“Oh...uh...yeah,” she mumbled and gestured for him to walk down the hall. He was right: a bedroom and a bathroom, but he was surprised to find a second bedroom. It didn’t seem like the space was big enough from the outside. She opened all the doors. “This one’s the spare,” she said and showed him the room with nothing but a bed and small three drawer dresser and a chair that looked like it belonged in a college dorm in the corner. There was a door leading to a closet (he assumed). Compared to the main room, it was lackluster given there wasn’t a single flower in the room.

Along the same wall was the bathroom. The room was the same slate grey as the sitting room. The shower curtain was white, with a pattern of pink flowers. The fuzzy bathmat and hand towels matched the pink flowers. A little flowerpot was placed on a shelf hanging above the toilet, but Harry could have predicted at this point that pink flowers would be in the little pot. A chic gold brushed mirror that doubled as a medicine cabinet hung over the sink with the same gold brushed faucet fixtures. A linen closet opposite the light switch right as you walked in, no door to it so he could see her well-stocked array of bathroom necessities, extra towels, and cleaning supplies.

“My room,” she shrugged and pushed the door open. Another bookshelf was draped with green vines. Fascinating. She liked to read a lot, it seemed. A long dresser was beneath the window along the back wall. A nightstand with a biochemistry textbook and a copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest was closest to the door near the top of her bed. A weird pair of books for late night reading, he thought. Harry would have to pick the non-textbook one up at the bookstore later. Find another way to relate to her. This room was painted a light blue—so light it was almost white. More vines and flowers. Her bed was made neatly. This time slate-blue-almost-grey color again. Once more pink flowers.

“Are y’a botanist?” He asked, turning back for the main room. He didn’t want to spend a lot of time staring at her room and make her uncomfortable.

She smirked, closing the door following behind him. “Just love color and flowers,” she shrugged. “The grey makes it pop,” she explained. “But I wanted a little bluer for my bedroom. Didn’t want it to seem all dreary.” It was the furthest from dreary.

“S’lovely.”

“Well thanks,” she repeated, just as graciously as before.

She sat on the floor in front of the coffee table. “You can make yourself at home, there’s some drinks in the fridge—non-alcoholic of course, since you’re on the job, but I wouldn’t tell anyway,” she murmured and began scribbling on her papers almost instantly.

Harry felt deeply surprised. He pulled his laptop out and checked the emails. The internal messaging system alerted him that Niall had sent a message. How is she?

Fine. He responded.

Harry’s phone vibrated in his pocket immediately. It was Niall. “FINE?” He asked in shock.

Harry shrugged. “Yes.”

Niall released a breath through his lips in surprise. “I can’t believe it. Usually she has people begging for reassignment after five minutes.”

Harry looked over at the girl working at the coffee table. He looked back at his laptop. “Don’t know,” he murmured.

“You can tell whoever you’re talking to that I’m not the bitch everyone makes me out to be if you’re fucking nice to me,” she grumbled.

Harry smirked. “I like her,” he said loud enough for her to hear. But she didn’t pause at all. Nor did she stray from her position or what she was doing to notice Harry’s kind comment.

She left Harry in the main room. He would stay until midnight when some woman would take over the detail. She didn’t hate the woman. She at least allowed her privacy when she wanted it. But she was surprised how much she liked Harry and they’d hardly interacted beyond an exchange of pleasantries. Him leaving in a couple hours seemed unfair.

Harry already had her phone number and he told her he would send her a message, so she had his in case of an emergency. “Not sure what emergency exists in my bedroom,” she muttered. He smirked and shrugged.

“Protocol, love,” he said. So he was one of those. She thought.

She liked his accent. Honestly, she liked everything about Harry. He was gorgeous. It was shocking. There was a moment where she forgot she was supposed to be agitated by her security detail when he introduced himself. It was almost instinctive that her hand wanted to reach out and play with his brown locks that curved every which way around his head. His eyes were this piercing green that she felt the desire to repaint her room the same emerald color. She nearly had to crane her neck to see all six feet of him. And in a simple suit, he was just...beautiful.

But then he pulled the door shut not taking her shit for even a second. Her brain felt out of sorts as she tried to reconcile the attitude, she wanted to have against the one she felt. Not once did someone just back off her. Maybe having someone closer to her age was the trick. But she didn’t want a security detail. Right?

Harry was so utterly polite, complimenting her place, respecting her boundaries as much as possible given his position. Ugh. He was ruining all the hard work she had put in to be a bitch toward DSS.

Fortunately, her phone vibrated as she closed the door to her bedroom. It was a friend from one of her classes telling her they were having a round of drinks before their final exam in the morning. She didn’t want to go. It was ten o’clock and her brain was exhausted from the marathon studying all afternoon and evening with her only breaks introducing herself to Harry and when she ordered them pizza.

Harry insisted on paying. Another weird notion from him. She never really ordered food for her security details, but she always did offer, and she always paid. Her mother taught her to have manners and be polite, even if she was mad—it would make her more amicable. However, she thought a lot of her previous agents assumed she was trying to poison them when she ordered them food. Harry didn’t talk much to her while they ate. He asked her what she was studying and if she felt confident about the exam.

She worked her ass off to be successful in her classes. She was one of the top students, she knew it. But everyone else saw it as the Secretary of State’s doing, not her own. But yes, she was confident about the exam.

But now it was 10:04 and she wanted to be included. She didn’t want to come off as “Daddy’s little princess” and the goody-two-shoes she was accustomed to being. Biting her lip, she pressed her ear to her door. She couldn’t hear Harry at all. Harry seemed cooler than her other details, she could probably just ask him to take her and hang back as far as humanly possible. He told her he was going to read the files on the people she surrounded herself with while she went to sleep.

He would be back first thing in the morning for a full day of watching her every movement. She quietly changed into an easy, comfy outfit. Jeans, t-shirt, her most comfortable broken-in Keds. She glanced at the mirror on the back of her closet and put on a couple dabs of concealer around her eyes and a few swipes of mascara. It was one round of drinks; she would be back before Harry left his post and she wouldn’t even have to worry about locking up her apartment. She shoved her ID and her credit card into the back of her phone case and then put it in her back pocket.

Carefully, she opened the window pausing around the part that always groaned in the humidity from the outside August air. She quietly pulled the screen in and laid it on her bed. With cat-like soft feet, she got out onto the platform of the fire escape. Closing the window behind her, once more minding the swelled portion. She made her way down the fire escape. The walk to the bar was less than half a mile.

As she turned the corner of the building to walk along the streetlamp-lit roads she was pushed suddenly and almost violently against the building. She nearly lost her footing, but the person kept her upright and was surprisingly gentle with her before she slammed into the bricks. Her lungs inhaled, ready to let out a scream, but a hand was covering her mouth at the same time causing her heart rate to skyrocket. “Seriously?” Harry’s accent cut through her terrified mind.

The terror seeped out of her mind as anger coursed through her. Maybe the close in age thing wasn’t going to be a good plan after all. If this was one of her other agents, they wouldn’t have known she was gone until she had finished her drink and was walking back home. She shoved his hand from her mouth, and she glared at him. Her body was shaking with her fight or flight response and a lot rage. “What?” She snapped and started marching down the road.

“Y’could’ve jus’ asked,” he called from behind her. “S’dangerous t’walk alone this late at night.”

She rolled her eyes, not that he could see it. “No one is going to try and kidnap me for political purposes on a Wednesday night while I get a drink with friends,” she told him.

“Love, s’not what I meant,” he said gently. The kindness in his tone made her attitude waver again. But she was mad that he caught her. That never happened. She didn’t want to be sneakier. She thought she might actually like Harry. He even said he liked her to whoever he was on the phone with—that made her heart warm despite how she pretended not to hear. If Harry liked her, it would be much harder to maintain the isolated, bitchy attitude she gave all the other security agents.

“What’s there to worry about? Someone shoving me against a building and covering my mouth?” She grumbled.

“I didn’t want t’scare you; I was jus’ trying t’show you that someone could’ve snuck up,” he was keeping his distance from her, but she listened intently for the practically soundless footsteps. The only reason she could hear him was because it rained and made the little scratchy pebbles and dirt crunch under his feet ever so slightly.

“By scaring me,” she stated, still not looking at him.

He sighed. “M’sorry. I thought...” he trailed off. She didn’t make him finish his sentence. She thought too—he knew the stories of her, but he thought he would be different. They walked probably two tenths of a mile in silence. “M’sorry, love,” he repeated. “S’my first day. Didn’t want you t’get hurt.”

She sighed. He did sound remorseful. And she still kind of liked him. Mostly because as tragic as it sounded, he seemed to be more worried about her safety as a female walking dark streets and not a political official’s daughter. “It’s alright,” she mumbled. “I should have just asked,” she agreed a bit begrudgingly. “Just figured it was one drink and I’d be home before you left.”

He didn’t say anything. She stopped in her tracks. She could see the sign for the bar where her friends were down the long street before her. She turned to Harry. He looked relieved.

They gazed at each other a moment. Harry would be a worth adversary, she thought to herself. It was like he heard her thoughts because his next words almost tried to refute the idea. “I don’t like t’do paperwork,” he told her those pretty green eyes focused on her intently. He was serious. His jaw flexed tightly.

She smirked. “No promises.”

She spotted Harry at the end of the stairway, leaning against the wall as she exited the building where she had taken her exam. He had to be sweating in the suit slacks and button down—even if the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His left arm had several tattoos lining his arm while the right only had one or two. He wasn’t wearing a tie today nor a suit coat—she wanted to tell him she didn’t really give a shit what he wore, but he seemed the professional type. Being the middle of August, it was hot as could be. He didn’t seem to care, glancing every which way through a pair of black sunglasses. She couldn’t see his eyes and she suddenly realized she missed seeing the green even though she’d only gotten one good look at them.

Unfortunately, in all her ogling she missed the last two steps sending her straight into someone in front of her and she fell to the ground on the hot sidewalk, scraping her knee like a child. Fortunately, as a biochem major, she had to wear pants whenever setting foot in the lab so the yoga pants she wore—while hot for a summer day—probably saved her just a bit from a worse cut. It did cause a few tears in the fabric and her knee would surely bruise.

Harry started to rush over but the guy she bumped into helped her back to standing. “You okay there?” He asked.

Harry stood back a few feet as the guy helped. “Uh...yeah. Sorry, I missed the last step,” she said with a slight awkward laugh. She brushed the dirt from her hands that were also scraped as well as the length of her forearm since she was allowed to wear short sleeves (especially since it was exam day).

“Oh hey! You’re—” As soon as she realized he recognized her she closed her eyes and sighed.

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “Sorry,” she hurried off, limping slightly as she realized she really smacked her knee and the way it scraped definitely made it sore to bend. She didn’t want to be recognized. She wanted to be herself and not have this political precursor follow her everywhere.

They were making their way back toward the SUV Harry had parked nearby when he had dropped her off this morning so she wouldn’t be late. Good luck he had called out when she closed the door behind her. “Are y’alright?” Harry’s accent was a few paces behind her. She felt embarrassed so she didn’t turn around. She nodded.

“Yeah. Just a scrape. Want to go home and take a nap in the AC.”

“Can’t argue with y’there,” he chuckled.

She smirked; glad he couldn’t see her. “You don’t have to wear a suit all the time,” she told him. “It’s a thousand degrees out. You’ll die of a heat stroke before you can protect me.”

He seemed to ignore her joke, but she was still a bit genuinely concerned he would overheat. “How was your exam?” He asked.

She turned finally and looked at him. He stopped short, still a few steps behind her. They probably looked odd beneath the shaded trees. Both dressed not for a summer day. Harry looked threatening, surprisingly. He didn’t when she saw him in her apartment or even when he walked her home at eleven last night. He looked like a regular guy even if he was overdressed in a half suit. She noted the gun in its holster on his hip and she wondered how good of a shot he was. Not because she thought he would be bad or because she thought he would ever need to shoot it in her presence but because she was genuinely curious about him. She still had her backpack on of course. Her knee bent slightly with a tear in her pants. Quite the pair.

His glasses were still covering his eyes, hiding probably the most assured way to understand what he was thinking. But despite all she thought about the DSS, Harry was nice. Even if it had only been the inside of 24 hours.

It was shame she was a bitch to her security detail.

“Uh...easy,” she said. “A lot of my friends complain about studying and it sucks, but obviously it was worth it,” she shrugged. “I only struggled with one long response question, and I knew that I would going into it,” she explained.

“S’good, m’happy for you,” a little smile twinged at his lips and he sounded so genuine. It surprised her. Like he was really taking an interest in her.

But then she remembered this was his job and he probably couldn’t give two shits about her or exam. She tilted her head and scanned the man before her as if that negative thought would reveal itself. Of course, it didn’t. The glasses were hiding his true emotions. She would have to figure out Harry later. It was too hot, even in the shade.

Silently she turned on her heel looking at the air-conditioned oasis of that SUV. Harry opened the door for her, something she was not used to before closing her neatly and safely inside. Once Harry opened his door she asked her question. “Can we get coffee?” She asked.

“Coffee?”

“My treat,” she smirked.

“I thought you wanted a nap?”

“Yeah, but I have to work later and if you drink coffee before a nap, the coffee will kick in right when you wake up.”

He tilted his head at her before he pulled into the road. “Didn’t know y’have a job.”

“It’s remote,” she shrugged.

“Oh.”

“So coffee?”

“If that’s what you want, love.”

Harry drove in silence to the closest coffee shop he could find, and she got out of the car quickly before stopping at the driver’s window. “Can I get you anything?” She asked kindly.

“Uh...an iced tea would be nice,” he said curiously.

She was not the bitch everyone made her out to be. “Sure,” she said and rushed inside. Harry kept the window rolled down and could see her perfectly through the window. It took no more than ten minutes, and she was back at the car handing him iced tea through his open window before she got into the car. Harry wasn’t really sure what to make of her. But he was sure that he liked her. She was funny. In her own sort of way. He watched her sip her drink as she settled back into the car.

It would be fun.

Protecting her.

“I could send you a picture if you’d like to stare at me longer,” she blinked in excess at him. Fluttering her pretty eyelashes as her quick witted tone pierced his thoughts.

Right?

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

Protection tag list: @youcouldstartacult

Please let me know if you'd like to join the taglist, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :) If you would like for me to start a taglist for this series, please let me know as well!

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biocrafthero · 4 months

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Some Queer Games and Devs to check out this Pride Month

Hello! I play a decent amount of video games, and like making posts about them. This year, I've been making a lot more posts analyzing and promoting games I particularly enjoy. I'm making this post as a way to share games that have queer developers and/or topics to celebrate this year's Pride Month.

All games' websites will be linked in their respective sections, and I urge you to check out any of the games that speak to you. There's a decent amount of variety on this list, so please give all of them a look!

Please note that all of these games are ones I have personally played--I am not including games I have not played yet for myself. If you were hoping for your favorite title to be on here, I am very sorry but chances are I just haven't heard of or played it yet.

ANATOMY (2016)

ANATOMY is a horror game released in 2016 by developer Kitty Horrorshow (she/her). While the game does not contain any queer themes, the dev is openly transgender.

The plot of the game coincides with the gameplay, which centers around walking through a nearly pitch-black house collecting tapes and putting them in a tape player. Despite its simplicity, the game has been commended by many for being "the scariest game they have ever played." The story of the house is uncovered as you listen to each of the tapes, and reentering each time the game shuts you out.

This game features themes surrounding body horror and psychological horror, and one moment that can be seen as a mild jumpscare if it is not expected.

A full playthrough takes about an hour, with multiple endings. However, all roads lead to the same destination.

ANATOMY is available for $3 USD on itch.io.

We Know The Devil (2015)

We Know The Devil is a visual novel developed by the team Worst Girls Games, which consists of Aevee Bee (she/her) and Max Schwartz (any). Music for the game is composed by Alec Lambert.

The plot of the game surrounds three teenagers who have been sent to a religious summer camp in the American midwest. With just one week left, they're all hoping for everything to be smooth sailing, but nothing is ever that simple. On this fateful night, they must face the devil; two will make it out, but one will be left behind.

The gameplay focuses on making decisions on who gets paired up together, and consequently who gets left out of the interaction. These choices determine what ending you get and there are never any wrong answers.

Queer rep in this game consists of polyamory, lesbianism, transgenderism, and transhumanism. There is also mentioned homosexuality regarding a male character that is only ever talked about in passing.

This game contains themes surrounding religion, internalized homophobia, along with general homophobia and transphobia. There are scenes that depict underage drinking, vomiting, body horror, and some moments that can be interpreted as self-harm. Some sound effects in the game can be jarring, along with the track "Incense (Smoke & Honey)" from the OST, a song that plays in three of the four endings.

A single playthrough can take about two hours depending on reading speed. There are four endings, meaning a minimum of four playthroughs.

We Know The Devil is available for $6.66 USD on Steam, Nintendo Switch, and itch.io.

There is also the demo for the game, which is free to download off of the game's itch.io page and baked into the Switch port.

Heaven Will Be Mine (2017)

Heaven Will Be Mine is a visual novel also developed by the team Worst Girls Games, with soundtrack once again composed by Alec Lambert.

The game's plot centers around three factions in the solar system. They have all been called back to Earth under threat of death; two factions want to stay in space, while one is choosing to return. At the start of the game, you can choose one out of three characters to follow the POV of, each belonging to one of the three factions.

Gameplay is similar to We Know The Devil, meaning that you make decisions throughout the story that determine what ending you get. There are no wrong choices, only ones that lean in the favor of one of the faction out of your options.

Queer rep in this game consists primarily of polyamory, lesbianism, transgenderism, and transhumanism. There may be more I am forgetting to mention.

This game contains scenes depicting violence, body horror, and discussions about sexuality, abuse, and trauma. This game is meant for a more mature audience than the others on this list. Some sound effects and music in the game can be jarring. There may be content warnings I am forgetting to put here.

The game has three major story routes and three endings, and each playthrough takes around four to five hours depending on reading speed. At minimum, you will need to play this game three times.

Heaven Will Be Mine is available for $15 USD on Steam, iOS, and itch.io. It should be noted that the price on iOS is different than on other platforms, being listed at $5 USD.

In Stars And Time (2023)

In Stars And Time is a turn-based RPG developed by insertdisc5 (she/they) and published by Armor Games Studios. Music for the game is composed by Studio Thumpy Puppy.

The story follows your typical RPG party, starting the day before the final dungeon and final boss. However, when you go in, you get caught in a trap and die. Time suddenly rewinds, and you find yourself at the day before your party entered the dungeon. You are caught in a time loop, and must find a way to stop the final boss and escape the loops.

Gameplay mostly consists of turn-based combat with enemies, and making the right dialogue choices when talking to NPCs and your party members. There are several puzzles throughout the game that encourage you to use the looping mechanic to solve them.

Queer rep in this game consists of transgenderism (transmasc and nonbinary explicitly, but there are some characters that can be interpreted as transfem, agender, and/or genderfluid), aromanticism, asexuality, lesbianism and homosexuality, and a plot thread that involves t4t romance. All six major characters have canonical pronoun sets. There may be more rep I am forgetting to include here in this list.

This game contains scenes of mild violence, self-hatred and other heavy mental heath topics, one scene of child endangerment, unreality, and optional scenes involving self-harm and suicide.

The average playtime for this game is 26 hours, which increases to 36 depending on how much optional content you engage with. There is technically one ending, but an optional plot thread can get you an alternate version of the ending screen. This plot thread is highly encouraged to be followed.

In Stars And Time is available for $20 USD on Steam, itch.io, Nintendo Switch, and PS4 and PS5.

There is also a previous title titled START AGAIN: a prologue, which is available on Steam and itch.io. This game does not need to be played to understand In Stars And Time, but is highly recommended nonetheless.

Some personal anecdotes regarding each of these games:

In Stars And Time is one of the few games where I saw a character (Siffrin in this case), pointed at them, and said "They're just like me!"

We Know The Devil and Heaven Will Be Mine both have themes of queer solidarity in the face of oppression and it fills me with rebellious rage (positive).

ANATOMY is one of my favorite games ever made, and is objectively the scariest game I have ever played.

Almost all of these games have made me almost cry, which is a very high bar for a game to reach. The only one that didn't is ANATOMY, mostly because it evokes more fear than it does tears for me.

We Know The Devil in particular evokes a very specific nostalgia for me, so the setting and characters hit differently for me than they may for others.

I played In Stars And Time shortly after a breakup and consequently developed the most horrific crush on the character Isabeau. It is frankly quite embarrassing.

#rambles #in stars and time #isat #we know the devil #wktd #heaven will be mine #hwbm #anatomy #anatomy game #indie games

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specialagentlokitty · 8 months

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Negan x reader - insanity comes and goes

Hands stuffed in your pocket, you grinned a little bit at the man who was stood in front of you, bat over his shoulder while his people fixed their guns in you.

“So, (Y/N), are you gonna tell me why you’re skulking around home? How’d you get so far?”

“Why would I do that? Takes all the fun out of the game Negan.”

He hummed a little, walking over and he looked at you, reaching up to brush some hair from your face.

“Why not join me? You could have anything you ever wanted here, that prick can barely offer you any food. You tell me what he’s planning and I’ll let you keep your shit, and give you more.”

This had been his play the entire time, Negan was sure that he could turn you against Rick and the others and use you as a double agent.

The issue with that is that was boring, and you didn’t feel like selling out your friends just for some stuff that didn’t even matter in this world anymore.

You smirked a little, and in a swift motion took the bat from his hands.

“Give Lucille back!” He roared.

“Aw is this special to you? You want it back you big baby?”

You raised your brows in suggestion then you moved your hand, flinging the bay across the fence, out into all of the walkers.

“Oops.”

He stormed over, grabbing you by the collar he landed a punch on your face, and he slammed you against the fence.

He sneered, clenching his jaw.

“Whatever game you’re fucking playing, I’m done with it. I’m going to have tour god damn bones sent back to the prick…”

“And I’m gonna haunt your ass until you go insane.” You smirked.

You tossed you aside, and you heard a loud bang before everything went black.

“Get me Lucille!” He snapped.

He looked down at your body, bullet in your head, and he walked past you over to his men and back inside.

He ordered somebody to take your body and throw it to the walkers, and he began gathering a company to pay Alexandria a visit, less than impressed with your visit.

He walked outside, and he was stopped by Simon.

“She’s gone.”

“What the fuck do you mean she’s gone? She wasn’t exactly fucking going anywhere Simon!”

“She’s gone Negan, someone came outside to move the body and it’s not there, there isn’t even a blood trail.”

Negan yelled, slamming his fist into the side of the truck.

“Then they find it!”

He got into the truck, balling his hands into fists in pure rage.

He stayed silent as they made their way to the community, and the gates were opened when they arrived.

“Rick!” He roared.

Said man came jogging over, slowly down to a walk.

“That bitch of a friend of yours, you send her to my home?”

“Who?” Rick asked confused.

“(Y/N), because I hate to break it to you but I put a bullet in the middle of her pretty little head, but now her body is missing, so how many did you send?”

“I never sent anyone.”

Negan grabbed Rick by the back of his shirt, dragging him towards his house and the people followed to see what was going on.

He tossed Rick to the ground and Negan took his gun, aiming it at Carl.

“You tell me the truth, or I put a bullet in your goddamn son too.”

“Oo scary.” You mocked.

“What the fuck?”

Negan turned around to see you sitting on the curb, and you grinned, offering him a little wave.

“Holy crap, now either you’re dead and I’m seeing shit, or there’s more than one of you.”

You hummed a little bit.

“No, just want. I don’t think poor Rick here could handle more than one of me, I annoy him enough.”

“Now I remember watching a bullet go through your brain.”

“Oh yeah? What it look like? Was there a lotta blood? Cause that’s always a fun way to die.”

“Let’s fucking find out!”

Negan took Rick’s gun and aimed it at you, pulling the trigger and a few people screamed.

Negan looked around at them all, noticing the lack of horror or sadness on their faces.

“Come on! What’s wrong with your people I just killed your friend!”

You pushed yourself up, rubbing your forehead, and you looked at your blood on the floor.

“Damn, that is a lot of blood.”

“What the fuck?!”

Negan walked over, shooting your again, and he grabbed his bat, hitting you a few times for good measure.

Your blood splattered his clothes and the ground, and he just stood there looking at you, watching you.

“(Y/N)s just going to wake up again.” Carl called.

Negan looked to him, and Carl shrugged a little bit.

“Apparently out of all the people in the world, death just don’t like me.” You said.

You sat up, wiping the blood from your eyes and you watched Negan spun around with a mortified look on his face.

He’d seen some shit, and done some shit, but this? This was something different compared to anything he had ever seen or done.

“What the shit is wrong with you? Why won’t you die?!”

He swung his bat again, this time keeping an eye on you, and he could see the blood stop flowing from your wound, and you grinned a little bit.

“Please keep going, maybe I can actually get a good night sleep for once.”

He took a few steps away from you, and you sat in your own blood, just grinning from ear to ear at him.

“I told you I’d haunt your ass…”

Negan looked to Rick.

“Tell me this shit ain’t real.”

“No, it’s real. Apparently there’s just no getting rid of (Y/N) at this point.” Rick sighed.

You pushed yourself up, wiping your hands on your shirt.

“Nope, you’re stuck with my ass until you die!” You beamed.

“This is fucking insane. You’re fucking insane.” Negan said.

You gave a half shrug.

“Maybe just a lot, yeah. Sanity comes and goes.”

You took a step forward and he subconsciously took one back.

The problem with being human was that no matter how big and tough you acted, if you saw something that wasn’t natural, your immediate response is to stay away from it.

So Negan pulled Rick in front of him and you stopped walking.

“What the actual fuck…? Now I got some psychos in my lot, but you? You’re a whole new level of fucked.”

“I know! It’s great!” You laughed.

You bent down, picking up a tree branch and you looked at Negan.

“So, who do you think will win? Me or you? Cause I’m kinda wondering how long it’ll take me to beat the shit outta you with this branch before it breaks.”

“You come any closer and I’ll paint the ground with his blood.”

You hummed.

“Yeah, okay.”

You tossed the stick aside.

“Oh by the way Negan, you should probably evacuate your base.”

“What the fuck did you do?”

“I maybe have rigged some explosives. I was bored waiting for you.”

Some of his men began running back to their cars and trucks.

“You should probably find them before someone triggers one.” You smirked.

He clenched his jaw, pushing Rick to the ground.

“Run…” you whispered.

You grabbed the stick and ran after them all, yelling as they jumped into their vehicles to try and get away from you.

It made you laugh loudly and you swung it at the door of Negans truck.

“You fucked it Negan! You can’t kill me but I can kill the shit out of you!”

He stuck his middle finger up at you as he drove away and you grinned proudly at Rick and a Michonne.

Daryl put his arm around your shoulders.

“See, this is why we need a crazy immortal son of a bitch.” He said.

“Yeah, what he said.”

“Well, at least that’ll make him rethink his next plans for a while.” Michonne said.

And it did.

Negan was now rethinking what he had been doing there.

People were a resource, he didn’t want to kill them, and apparently no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t kill you.

So he had to find a way to get around that if he wanted to keep doing what he was doing, but a voice in the back of his head was also warning him not to cross paths with you again.

But he wasn’t one to back down from a fight, and this just made things a whole lot more interesting

#the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead x you #the walking dead x y/n #the walking dead imagine #twd #twd x reader #twd x you #twd x y/n #twd imagine #Negan smith #negan smith x reader #negan smith x you #negan smith x y/n #Negan smith imagine

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dilatorywriting · 4 months

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Opposites

Vil Schoenheit x OC Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: What do you get when a cross a vampire and a vampire hunter? Arguments about color coordination, apparently.

[OC Archive]

🌶️ Obligatory Warning for Mild Sugggestive Content

Opposites attract they say.

Which Saya had never really understood, because the general population that fell into that ‘opposites’ category tended to drive her absolutely up a wall.

And then the universe had to go and spit in her face by sending her not one, but two very opposite precious people. Ro’s contrasting traits were obvious. Sweet to her spicy, soft to her sharp. Doting, and kind, and wide eyed. Vil’s shtick was a bit trickier, because at the core of them they were the same. Or at least, similar enough that the model had long since learned to pick apart every bit of her with the familiarity of someone staring into a mirror. But there were other things.

‘Did you remember to pick up the makeup kits I had sent to Sam’s for you?’

Saya sighed and rolled her eyes and typed out an irritated. ‘Yes. Of course.’

‘You should have had all this on hand already. It’s practically the basics.’

‘Okay.’

‘Don’t pull that tone with me.’

‘We’re messaging. There is no ‘tone.’’

‘Oh? Try that again then.’

For fucks’ sake. She knew he was stressing over the Halloween event, and ensuring that he and all of his little spudlings looked positively perfect for their role in it all. But still. She was half debating smearing mud across her face and showing up smelling like literal death just to give all his pissy fretting the middle finger. But at the same time, this was important to him. And ugh. Bleck. She was just going to have to tolerate his fussing. As usual.

‘Do you want me to wear the black or the grey boots?’ she sent back instead—an olive branch.

And immediately he was flooding her phone with all sorts of color scheme nonsense and rambles about the thematic importance of shading. Which. Fine. Better than the slippery slope she’d been heading towards by a long shot.

But, ahh. They really couldn’t be more different sometimes.

Saya had managed to wrangle her way into the complicated, custom-Schoenheit-designed ensemble and was halfway through lining her lash line with heavy, dark charcoal when she heard some incredibly unsubtle footsteps sneaking along down the hallway towards the bathroom. She watched a head of styled, red, curls bob in and out of the corner of the mirror. Then, a soft curse when he whacked his knee against the tile. She puckered her lips like Vil had taught her and ignored the creeping creature in the corner.

“Boo!” Ro chirped, hands curled into claws as he popped over the side of the counter.

Saya blinked past his head, unbothered and focused, and simply continued leaning close to the mirror to smudge heavy, black eyeshadow along her lids.

The redhead pouted and leaned forward on his tiptoes, the witch hat bobbing on his head as he stretched.

“Sai-chan. I said—”

She reached out, fast as a snake, and snatched his arm. And Ro shrieked.

“Boo,” she grinned, and he wailed in indignation.

“No fair!”

“Not my fault your scare game is weak,” she taunted. “Besides, who in their right mind would be afraid of you when look like the thumbnail off some teeny-bop lofi video?”

“That’s why I’m playing the victim!” Ro chirped, bouncing back as easily as he always did under her prodding. The layers of dark, plum skirts twirled at his knees above a set of garishly striped stockings. He looked far more Lolita Magical Girl than Creepy, Kooky Witch, but it fit him well enough either way. “I thought you were too, Saya-chan. But you look intense.”

She dabbed a bit at the raccoon-smears around her eyes.

“Different kinds of victims, I guess,” she shrugged. “You’re the cute one people feel bad for, I’m the one people see and go ‘oh shit, if he can get her, I’m doomed.’” It was proper Horror Movie logic, and Saya couldn’t fault the third years for coming up with such a devious little idea. Vil had been particularly proud of her new role when he’d presented it at their pitch meeting.

“S’too bad we don’t match anymore,” Ro hummed, propping himself up on the ledge of the counter to swing his feet. “Your new costume is cool too, though!”

It really was. It looked like something ripped right off a movie set. All aged, dusty leather and intricate straps tucked beneath a fitted overcoat that felt as expensive as it looked. And knowing who had procured it for her, Saya wouldn’t be too surprised if that was actually the case.

She snapped the little compact case closed and turned on Ro with a sharp smirk.

“Ready to go make some stupid influencers shit themselves?”

He nodded, a touch too enthusiastic. “I’ll see you later, Saya-chan! After we’ve wiped all of them out.”

“…not literally,” she reminded him with a pointed glare. “Make sure your dragon remembers that, yes?”

“Yes, yes. You’ve told me, Saya-chan. He won’t actually eat anyone. That’s what I’m for!”

“Right,” Saya nodded, wiping a bit of stray gold, dust off his collar and straightening out the pointed hat atop his head. “Let’s go ruin some magicam photos.”

They really couldn’t have looked more intentionally contrasting. Vil, with the sharp, crisp lines painted around his eyes and Saya all smudged soot and grime. A sweeping, purple and gold-embroidered ensemble next to a dark, muddied beige with no discernible shimmer to speak of. Pomp versus practical. Seductive, free-spirited elegance to militaristic formality. His hair curling loose at his collarbones and hers pinned into a tight bun to give the squibs more space to splatter.

“No way these guys are actual vampires,” one of the Magicam Monsters spluttered, taking a harried step back.

Which was Saya’s cue to step forward—silver cross at her throat and thick, woolen overcoat swirling at her knees.

“I see you’ve finally come out of hiding, beast,” she droned, lifting the prop blade from her belt to point at the space over his heart. She could hear the tourists around her chittering and whispering into their hands. If this was all part of the show. If this was real. If it was a joke. If it was— “To think you’d stoop so low as to use a place like this for your hunting grounds. I’ll strike you down where you stand.”

Vil swooped forward so suddenly it managed to genuinely startle her. And his hand snapped up to wrap around her wrist so tight it was nearly painful. The silver stake fell to the ground with a clatter and he dug his fingers into her hair—yanking her head back sharp and harsh so her neck was on full display. Saya hissed between her teeth and glared at him sourly, fighting the urge to snap out and remind him that this wasn’t real, and she would very much like to keep her limbs and dignity intact, thank you very much.

But then he was grinning down at her in a way that had her stomach dropping—his fangs peeking over his painted lips and eyes going lidded and dark. She heard one of the stupid influencers gasp and rattle out a panicked ‘should we do something?!’

“Oh, sweet thing,” he cooed, trailing a painted nail along her jawline. “I was never hiding.”

And then he leaned forward and bit her. Saya gasped and dug her fingers into his shoulders because ow! What the hell, man! He wasn’t supposed to actually—

The squib went off beneath her collar and thick, sticky, crimson blood began to seep its way down her neck and drip to the floor. Vil’s adam’s apple bobbed against her throat as he swallowed and Saya shivered.

The hoard of rabid influencers took off in a terrified frenzy—screaming, and shoving, and fighting their way out of the Mirror Chamber. Soon enough, the room was empty once more except for the two of them, and Saya lifted a hand to awkwardly pat against his back.

“You can—” she gulped when he shifted to bite at her collarbone. “You can stop now. They left.”

“Oh?” he hummed against her blood-splattered skin. “But what sort of Vampire Lord would I be if I didn’t make an example of the little hunter who thought herself clever enough to trap me?”

“Vil—”

“You wore the rosemary perfume.”

She blinked, thrown. “Of course I did. You said I needed to stay ‘on theme.’”

“But I didn’t tell you to,” he crooned, licking a long stripe up her throat and collecting the stray droplets of fake blood as he went. “You did that on your own.”

Saya frowned, determined to be stubbornly put out despite the fangs playing at her skin. “You said—”

“Sometimes I wonder exactly why it is I adore you so much,” he sighed, and she froze, like a deer in the headlights. Or like a poor, little human trapped between the teeth of a monster. “And then I remember that maybe we aren’t quite so different after all.”

He pulled back with a grin that was equal parts smug and soft. He reached up and rubbed at one of the red stains seeping into her skin.

“I’ll get you a cloth for that. We should get you cleaned up before the next group arrives.”

“…R-Right,” she spluttered. Of course. Yes. Cleaned up. Because that’s what this was all about. They were dawning the masks of a vampire and his hunter respectively. And they were in public.

“Oh. And, kitten?” he called over his shoulder from where he’d moved towards his stash of emergency stage makeup and costume maintenance supplies. “Do try to struggle a bit more next time, hmm? We need to make this believable.”

Absolutely intolerable. Nothing like her at all.And if Saya gasped like a victim put to the cross during their next little display—noisy and loud in all the ways that tended to make his pupils grow round and dark. If she wriggled against his grip just so to make sure she was provoking him just as much as he was for her, with perhaps the added advantage of the hidden swell of his draped cloak to shield her pressing knees. Well, that was certainly no business but her own.

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x OC #Vil Schoenheit x OC #Vil x OC #vil schoenheit #My Writing

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