#but when I finally did it HAD to be the will wood one. he was my top artist in my spotify wrapped this year

[fraugwinska]

Our lovely couple moves in together... Smut ahead - Minors DNI - Adult themes!

"Last chance to change your mind, cher."

You cocked your brow with that sweet smile you always had when looking at him, a small box in your hand. Alastor stood at the front doors of his townhouse, his arms crossed and leaning against the door frame, returning your grin with an even wider one.

"You know me long enough to know I am not one to take back my word, love. My house is yours from this day on forward."

With the flick of his wrist, he summoned various of his voodoo minions, who all immediately sprung into action, one of them taking the box out of your hand while the others crept to the waiting car with the few belongings in boxes you had accumulated over the past years. Most of them were books you could hardly part with, an antique room screen you got as a gift from Zestial. Your office, mostly, folders and folders of your articles, the polished black typewriter you loved. A vintage, cherry-wood cathedral radio - Alastor's gift to celebrate your three year anniversary. It's been about nine, now. Nine incredible, enchanting, magical, horrific, terrible and utterly love-filled, chaotic and passionate and simply hellbent and haphazardous years. Nine years, in which Hell came truly alive for you. Nine years, and finally one step further. Moving in together.

He watched as the final helper sprung inside to sit at the steering wheel of the car to drive it back to the rental, his arms still crossed. You tried hard to find the catch, but it seemed that Alastor simply wanted this, just as much as you did. No trickery, no traps, nothing. Just him, and you, together in his treasured house. Well. Mostly.

Though you've not met her yet, you knew about Niffty - a young, new sinner Alastor took under his wings. Whether he made a deal with her, or simply hired her, you didn't know, and you didn't really care, but she would also be at his house, he had told you, as a live-in maid/housekeeper. And because he was a gentleman of his times, he offered to change this condition and make her move out, if it made you uncomfortable - you immediately refused. You wouldn't deny a young demon like her shelter out of petty and misplaced insecurities, and the thought that someone other than yourself would actually be doing the brunt of the housework around your new home was immensely enticing.

With a smirk Alastor lifted himself up and stepped away from the door frame, stretching an arm out as an invitation, still smiling.

Your grin widened at him and you hummed, a rather contented purr escaping your throat and rumbling deep within as you took his hand. He pulled you into him, his head turning to press a kiss into your hair, the fresh breeze blowing a smell of flowers and smoke through the garden - you melted against his touch.

"Well then, welcome to your new home, darling...", Alastor mumbled against the crown of your head.

The town house was one of the few places you had never been to before. Over the years, Alastor let you into his world more and more. His radio tower became your most frequented place to be together, and even that took a full year of talks, dinners, outings and strolls together before that. And the progress into a deeper bond that didn't just rely on the foundation of mutual interest and curiosity was a slow one with him. But he was never, in your eyes, anything other than a gentleman and an all around impeccably wonderful sinner - even at his worst, and certainly at his best. And his very best was, by any and every definition, impressive.

He showed you his turf, introduced you to people who worked for him, acquaintances and friends alike. That's how you've met Mimzy for example, although she certainly wasn't one of your favorite people... but that did go both ways. Alastor adored her, and you respected that. You understood that, considering who he is - the petty grudges Mimzy bore against you because of misplaced jealousy were part and parcel of your life on his side. You remembered the joy when he mentioned that Rosie was also a friend and part of his close inner circle, and she soon became someone whose presence you always enjoyed. Fully supportive and invested in you two as she was, Rosie always helped whenever you could think of problems, whether big or small, in your shared journey through Hell. She and Alastor both supported and loved you in all of your ways and plans, the latter having been what helped you rise to editor in chief at the Pentagram Daily and right hand to Zestial, who had gradually turned from boss to close friend to you.

Hell truly came alive for you.

Your focus moved to the townhouse itself. It was modest and tastefully furnished, with dark wood furniture and decor, a wooden plated kitchen filled with plants and the strange hellish shrubbery you grew accustomed to and green tiling on the bathroom floors and walls. The fireplace in the foyer was glowing with a healthy ember and flames, the heat engulfing you, as well as a vague hint of Alastor's signature smell that seemed to be oozing from everywhere.

"Why don't you come and have a seat, love. Let me take your things upstairs and then we'll have some coffee ready in a minute, hm?"

Alastor's hands left yours, and you didn't turn around as his presence receded. Your thoughts were so caught up in the beauty of the house, your pink claws traced and ran over the lines of the wood paneled wall. Alastor had never stayed at your apartment, an agreement and precaution he decided on even when you officially started dating, citing his moral code and the rules of courting he intended to follow. Where he filled the days, the nights were always spent alone, in your own home. The time spent together was full with discussions, talks and occasional killings, and yes, you'd also share more intimate moments - kisses, touches, even some serious fooling around. But he had always stopped, right before crossing the one final line. Your body had been a sanctuary, a sacred place which was not to be violated or disturbed, not even by him. And while you found it almost endearing, after a few years it made you crave finally taking the last step.

It's a funny thing, wanting and craving something with your full body and soul while at the same time, the actual act that would grant this wasn't something you ever thought you needed, in contrary. It had been a weapon, a tool for you to do what you did when you were alive and what earned you damnation in hell, as unfair as it was. Sex was one of the simplest concepts of mankind to corrupt, of course. And maybe this was the reason for Alastor never allowing both of you to crossing that line, too. Perhaps he would have, if it wasn't for him knowing where you came from - because he knew you used sex as a method of getting men to lower their guard, a means to an end.

Your train of thought was interrupted by a faint giggle, and you looked down. A small, wide-eyed cyclops girl stood before you, barely reaching your knees. She wore a dark red blouse with a red skirt, and a white apron covered the front. The demoness beamed up at you, grinning, her single eye framed by a magenta bob cut fixed to your face and hands clasped together.

"Alastor told me a lot about you, miss! I'm Niffty! Can you believe you actually exist? When Alastor first told me about you, I- well- ohh, this is SO EXCITING!! We'll be the best of friends, and we'll talk and you'll tell me ALL your stories and I will learn everything about them, so I won't forget anything and-"

She stopped herself as the sound of a throat being cleared was heard through the hall, and Alastors form, already half obscured in the shadows of the hall, stiffened.

"Niffty, you promised me to not be weird, my dear.", he tutted, glowering at her, one of his eyes twitching and his close-lipped smile tensed. You almost burst out laughing. It was always an endearing and utterly charming sight, when he got flustered or nervous. His discomfort always manifested itself in the twitch of his eyes or nose, or an unexpected flick of the wrist at something mundane and simple like this - and as silly as it may seem to others, Niffty's uncontainable energy, the utter wholesome enthusiasm and weirdness of hers that could get even the radio demon uncomfortable made you soft for the girl.

Your tail swished playfully as you grinned up towards Alastor and turned back to the exciteable demon before you.

"Ah, Alastor did tell me what a lovely companion you were, chèrie.", you told Niffty, a light purr entering your voice, which made her ears prick and her eye to light up, the singular black and yellow iris blown wide. You held out your hand to the maid and gave her a soft smile, tilting your head. "I'm sure we'll get along well together."

Nifftys small, clawed hand shot into yours as if it was on fire and you squeezed it with a slight force that made her squeal with glee. She shook your hand so rapidly you could barely register it, and her head was bopping up and down eagerly.

"Yes! Absolutely!!! I'll do anything, anything, anything!! We will get along perfectly! I'll make coffee, you drink coffee, right? And maybe some cookies!" She said in a hurry, her words and excitement blurring together, not even waiting for an answer but scurrying away to the kitchen. She was as hyper as a squirrel in a tree and equally adorable, and your grin widened with amusement at her enthusiasm.

"So, that's Niffty.", you mused, chuckling at his rather stiff and awkward posture.

"Oh, a dear child, without a doubt - a lovely, twisted little thing. It was fortunate that she met me.", he agreed. Alastor's ears flicked slightly as you came closer, his tone lowering once again. "Still, you must not underestimate her. If you'd see the things she does to the vermin around the house..." He laughed.

"Well, never mind that. You still have the second floor to inspect, darling. Shall we?"

He extended an arm, grinning, and with a raised brow and a hummed 'oooh, scandalous,' you hooked your elbow around his and let him drag you up the stairs with a short lived chuckle.

It didn't even take five seconds for your composure to crack once you saw the bedroom. Not because there was any hint of dubiousness to it, quite the contrary. Everything was nice and clean and sweet smelling, the windows were opened, allowing the fresh air from outside to gently blow into the room. The bed, an old, beautiful vintage piece of dark brown walnut furniture, had black satin sheets that seemed cool and smooth even to your eyes and there was a surprising number of soft pillows and blankets.

"This, I didn't think I'd need to mention... will be the only part of the house to be completely off-limits to young miss Niffty. Or anyone except for us, for that matter." He smiled at you with a most wicked grin as his shadow crept to the door, closing it shut.

Your body froze and your mind went blank and for a moment, you weren't able to think at all, just feel the burning of your body and the tingling of your skin. Oh, dear Satan. Slowly, his words really sank in, and the reality of their meaning dawned on you and tightened your grin.

He wanted the same as you. And it seemed he was finally ready to do something about it.

It was silly of you. So many people in hell fucked every day, in so many ways - whether because it was the nature of sin itself to be more perverse and vile than it could be in the living realm, or because there were so few taboos that remained in hell to keep up... and you were aware of your hypocrisy. A serial killer would definitely not be able to point fingers, let alone judge, others, you knew. But with him, it was different. At least to you it was. He wasn't some pervert. He had principles. Standards. Values.

Valuing you was one of those, and respecting and caring for you, as much as he respected himself. To him, sexuality, lust, any expression of this... had always had to be a conscious decision to be made with you, not some primal reflex forced upon you, if the time ever came.

And the knowledge that finally, that last boundary of your relationship, which, for the past nine years, had become so noticable and odd for others in its non-intimacy, was about to be breached, and his intention to cross it with you as explicit as it possibly could be, sparked a heat inside of you unlike any other kind of flame that has ever burnt your skin. Well, loin des yeux, près du cœur.

"Really, my dear? No remarks at all, not even a clever retort? Did I finally get the cat's tongue?", Alastor teased and you shivered at the way his eyes glazed over like a starved predator, his hungry gaze washing over your flushed, but now obviously and severely flustered face. He always said your flushing, especially when flustered, looked good on you. His large claws brushed down your shoulders and arms, leaving a hot trail in their wake and sending an all-out shiver of delight and anticipation down your spine.

"What a rare sight, you're absolutely adorable when shy."

"You are impossible...", you replied, slowly feeling the soft mattress hit the back of your thighs and the added support behind your back made you keenly aware of just how strong he was. One of the strongest, if not the strongest of all the overlords. And you loved his strength - when he ripped into the bodies of foolish sinners as when he now used it to lift you with ease, sit you down onto his bed, his palms resting on the pillows right besides your head.

"Do you really want to do this, cher?", your words were a breathy, yet rumbling whisper. Your black pupils blew wide, taking over the majority of the shades of magenta and pink and fuchsia.

Alastors grin grew wider at the sight of it, tilting his head as his knees pushed his body even higher, the bed creaking. The sound was familiar, comforting even. He settled above you, one hand slipping under your nape, softly lifting your face up to meet his and the cold claws on the tips of his fingers brushed against your heated skin, just like your icy claws ran down the column of his exposed throat, caressing the length of his neck down to the knot of his bow tie.

"Yes..." He hummed the word out low and long, an eager purr-growl that rumbled his chest and throat and made him grind his hips against yours. Your head fell back in bliss as his knee slotted in-between your legs and pressed, just right, against your crotch, with perfect pressure against the sensitive flesh. A whimper of his name tumbled past your lips, followed by a soft moan. You moved your leg upwards and ran it against his, just so, and his breath, too, came out a stuttering, gasping sigh. "Yes. My mind has been set on this matter for a long while."

His ears flicked again and you watched in rapt fascination as his antlers grew and eyes went darker. And without another word, your lips clashed together in a messy, passionate kiss that left your head reeling and your stomach dropping. Your hands pulled at the silken material of his tie, desperately fumbling with it in order to make it loose enough to allow him to breath as his own claws pressed into your thigh, possessive and demanding, leaving deep cuts in your long, flowy skirt.

A groan escaped your mouth, almost unrecognizable to you. So different from your usual smooth demeanor, so raw, wanton. A moan, loud and hoarse, that shook you with the power and force you put into it and reverberated through both of your bodies, tangled around each other, pressed together. Your vision swam before your eyes, his delicious scent filling your lungs. You drowned in his everything - his smell, the feeling of his weight pinning you down to the bed, his lips, moving against yours in a violent dance and his tongue, swirling around yours. He kissed the same way he hunted, taking no prisoners and leaving no escape - you could still taste traces of the coffee he drank before you arrived, it had been laced with bourbon, a drink you now craved in your blood, and needed inside of you.

In a faraway, dazed state of mind, a realization crossed your cloudy, hazy thoughts. There was no going back now, not that you wanted to, anyway. But now, everything between you and Alastor was going to be different. Unshackled. You were ready to cross that line, more than so, but now, after waiting and building that expectation for so long, there was an even bigger anticipation, so strong, even your arms were shaking, the black fabric of his harness brushing against the skin of your arms as he shrugged his overcoat off.

Every touch of him felt new, electrified by the knowledge and expectation of waht to come. His palm brushed over the thin fabric covering the skin of your stomach. His lips pulled from your swollen ones, tracing a path downwards. Down, towards your neck. Your ear. Your collarbone. Teeth grazed your soft, delicate flesh and his lips captured the skin his hands revealed as he undressed you.

You cried out, eyes tightly shut as he bit and kissed his way down the valley between the soft, malleable flesh of your breast, the heated muscle of your belly, his palms softly digging in the expanse of skin of your legs. His long, glowing, red claws traced the sensitive skin inside of your thighs.

You gasped, almost breathless at this point. So utterly overwhelmed by the sensations of it all, senses oddly heightened by the way he teasingly bit down onto the inside of your thigh - just where the cloth of the undergarments, his last barrier to reach your actual core, ended. The feeling of your own tail stroking over his back, in tandem with his claw cutting the cloth made your vision go white for a moment, the feather light touch making you tremble and breathe his name out like an unholy prayer, repeated over and over.

"So divine and yet so corrupted...", he mumbled against your heated skin, before he shoved one of the plush pillows under your arched back.

"So holy and yet so blasphemous..." you felt his breath cool on the wetness of your exposed folds, so, so close to what you needed, and felt his tongue, carefully, sliding along the folds of your quivering core, just an almost and not yet a finally in sweetest torture, his body a veil between you and the world.

"Only yours to offer...", his eyes shot to you, intense and hungry under his twisted antlers, awaiting your decision, and you nodded with baited breath at which he refocused on the slick heat before him, "...and only mine to take."

His tongue parted the lips, delving inside and licking a broad stroke between them, before the tip danced around your aching clit and just for a moment, you forgot how to even breath anymore, your mind blanking out for an endless, timeless, perfect second.

All you felt was bliss, the sheer pleasure washing over and drowning you in it, the all encompassing, fulfilling sensation of something you had not even dared to dream of was now your present reality and there was nothing else, nothing beside his tongue. A gasping whine filled the silence, breaking through the crescendo of white noise, a cry, a plea for more as his long, pointy, impossibly dexterous tongue lapped against and slipped inside of you, thrusting in and out with torturous drag.

Your hands curled tightly into the fabric beneath you, preventing yourself from bending like a hunting bow as he added not one, but two of his fingers. His rhythm was unforgiving and almost too intense, so perfect, with just enough change for the friction not to burn into an unsatisfactory numbness.

"Mmmh... I could live on the taste of you, love.", Alastor breathed the words against the inside of your thigh, before biting down into the skin with a possessive growl. His claws dug into the plush flesh of your hips, holding them up as blood dripped in heavy drops from the bite. He sucked and licked on the wound and the sight of him, macabre and beautifully latched onto you, was almost enough to make you come, fingers still working against your heat.

You were almost there, you could feel it in the way the muscles in your stomach clenched, the tightening coil deep within, the way your breath hitched and became quicker and shallower, the way you started to tremble, the feeling of pure pleasure and joy.

"Stop, amour. Please stop...", you panted, not wanting to come alone, not selfish enough to be serviced like this, the pleasure too good to end so soon without him in it. You gasped for air, forming the words in your head.

His head whipped upwards, his glowing red eyes narrowed in concern, but you just smiled at him in reassurance, face hot and body sticky to the touch. "Réclamez-moi entièrement pour que nous puissions atteindre la fin ensemble...", you pleaded.

Alastor understood your words perfectly and his eyes widened. He took a shaky breath, before he chuckled and rose up, ripping his dress shirt along with the black harness away and revealing the expanse of his torso, the muscles, the soft fur, the countless scars. His belt came loose, his slacks fell to the ground, kicked away. He was magnificent when dressed - But he was unearthly beautiful when naked, every inch of him on display and for you to devour.

The tip of his member brushed against the slick opening of your core, making you whine.

"Always the one to choose a draw, darling."

Your hands reached for him, pulling him on top of you, the heat of his naked skin pressing onto you. He felt so wonderful, his hair falling forward, covering the side of his face, his breath tickling your nose. He leaned down, the tip of his nose brushing against yours, and your eyes fluttered close.

"You know I always prefer to lose if it's a win for both of us in the end, mon cerf..."

Alastor's lips captured yours again and his tongue entered, claiming and dominating the kiss in the same moment he pushed his hips into you, sheathing himself fully. He felt so, so much bigger than he looked, the stretch a delectable pain, an utterly delightful kind of burn. Your walls stretched around him, trying to adjust and get used to the feeling. It was almost overwhelming, how perfect he fit into you, how his thick, throbbing length brushed against that sweet spot inside of you, his girth stretching and filling you to the brim.

You both groaned, his head dropping forward as his hips rolled and he started to move. Slow, shallow thrusts, testing the waters. He pulled out, almost all the way, before rolling back in and setting a slow, savoring pace, dragging his hips just so to make his cock brush against your most sensitive spots.

Your hands grabbed his shoulders, your claws digging into them until you drew blood. With a growl, Alastor picked you up, letting himself fall back into a sitting position and pulled you upright on his lap. Equals, both able to be in control, both dependent on the other. Connected, not just by your cores, but also by your eyes you sat still for a moment. He was inside of you, and you had never felt this complete. He was a part of you, and the feeling was intoxicating, addictive, all consuming.

And then, he started to move you. Alastor let his head fall into the crook of your neck, whispering your name against your throat and you cried his out aloud, his claws digging into your hips and moving them, lifting them and pushing them down in a growing rhythm, matching his own eager movements, the drag of his cock inside of you utterly divine. You rolled your hips, chasing the feeling of him, while your own claws painted red lines on his back. You tasted blood, your canines biting your lip so hard it opened the delicate skin, and on a whim you nudged his head up to share it with him. He moaned, tasting the metallic fluid on your tongue, and it was enough to drive you both over the edge.

He spent himself inside of you with a hoarse growl, the hot, sticky fluid painting your insides as he wrapped his arms around you to press you even deeper into him, the sensation alone enough to make your head spin and your eyes water with hot tears. Your own high followed, you were desperate to sink your teeth in something, so you latched onto his neck, biting down as your walls tightened around his still twitching cock, milking it dry and coating him with the proof of your mutual ecstasy.

For a while, all either of you did was pant, breathing deeply, trying to collect yourselves and regain any kind of composure. Your eyes were still closed, but you could feel the slight movement of his chest, the beat of his heart under your palms that rested on his chest, your teeth still deep in his skin. You couldn't bear to let go, fearing the loss of his skin on your lips, but his hands came up to your face and gently pulled you away.

A small chuckle left his lips as he looked at you. His face was smeared red with the residue of your blood, and you might as well must've looked the same, coated in his.

"Now, isn't this the best way to christen a new bed? The unholy trinity: Blood, sweat and tears."

You laughed, the sound of it a little weak and a bit hoarse.

"You didn't happen to buy a new couch, too?", you asked, voice playful and low.

"Oh, I certainly do plan on it now, darling. I'm thinking of refurnishing the whole damn house." He grinned at you, his tongue flicking out to lick his lips, and it was impossible not to mirror his impish grin.

A rattle on the doorknob made both of you snap your heads to the entrance of your bedroom. In an instant, you made yourself - and to your delight, Alastor, still sheathed in you, too - invisible, just in time before Niffty broke through the door, in a loud bickering fight with Alastor's shadow.

"....and the coffee is getting cold if they.... oh, they're not here. Why didn't you tell me they're not here? Oh, maybe they are searching for me, maybe I should go look for them? Maybe they're downstairs, or in the garden? Oh no, wait, maybe they're on the roof? No, no, no, maybe..."

She rambled as she ran back down, and with a giggle you made both of you visible again.

" 'Completely off-limits to young miss Niffty' you say?", you grinned at him, a sadistic smile on your lips as you leaned in to kiss the small wounds on his neck.

"I also said to not underestimate her...", he sighed, commanding his shadow with his hand to close the door once more. And this time, with a poignant look and glowing red eyes, to lock it up.

Translations: loin des yeux, près du cœur - absence makes the heart grow fonder Réclamez-moi entièrement pour que nous puissions atteindre la fin ensemble... - Claim me fully so we can reach the end together…

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Hero and Hope 4/5

Okaaaay, so there's 5 parts instead of 4! I realized that the last part was over 6k words, so we're splitting it into two! The last part will still be posted next Friday, so this will keep us on track!

Summary: The picnic has an uninvited guest that you're uniquely suited to greet.

-------

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

“Didn’t think I’d see anyone able to catch Marie,” the Lord says, brows raised. His golden eyes track Isla across the garden and he whistles when she jumps to tag his former knight. “That was not within the capabilities of a Villager.”

Ivan scans the crowd around them. Most of the townsfolk are too far away to eavesdrop and the ones close enough to potentially hear are engaged in their own conversations. “Careful, Brennan. If the Director hears you speculate…”

“Yes, the Director,” Lord Brennan sighs. He brings his teacup to his lips, but doesn’t drink. He contemplates Director Sarah where she crouches with a glass of water near Annie. “You know this is the first time we’ve met?”

It’d been a fight to get Sarah to agree to today at all. Ivan chooses his words carefully. “Your predecessor did not have the sort of…kind interest you do.”

The former Lord’s interest Sarah shared with them was a lot more horrifying. There’s a reason that Isla at only fifteen years old is the eldest at the orphanage.

“That’s one way to put it,” Lord Brennan agrees. He settles back into his seat and sighs in satisfaction. He watches the children gradually grow tired of their game and drift towards the dessert table. He grins when the townsfolk naturally make room for them, a few of them even fetching treats from the center of the table for the littler ones. “See my people together? It was very good of me to lure you and Marie to my territory.”

“You gave us a castle,” Ivan says. They weren’t so much lured as bludgeoned with generosity. Some days it feels like they blinked and ended up standing amongst fine silk and filigree.

“It’s a manor as far as paperwork goes,” Lord Brennan says.

“It has buttresses.”

“A very fortified manor.” Lord Brennan finally sips his tea and sighs again. “This tea is from our fields, isn’t it?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“It’s delicious.” The full canopies of the trees enveloping the estate rustle in the wind. The sun shines warmly overhead. Lord Brennan takes another drink. Delicious. “The land’s come a long way since we ousted my father, hasn’t it? Plentiful harvests, an established trade route, a new school. If it weren’t for the demons, my work would be done.”

“I would prefer you had no work then,” Ivan says dryly.

“Me too.” Lord Brennan sets his tea aside and rubs his eyes. “Any updates?”

“None,” Ivan admits, frustration leaking through his words. His face is still amiable and the disconnect between his tone and his visage is jarring. “We investigated the wolf tracks in the woods and only found carnage. No signs of the demons themselves.”

“So they are demons?”

“Regular wolves wouldn’t be able to evade a squadron of your knights, my lord.”

“Neither would demon wolves,” Lord Brennan says. He rubs his chin, brow furrowing. “I don’t like what that implies. Any sign of larger foes?”

Ivan doesn’t want to discuss this here. Marie’s eyes are on him, sensing his rising distress. He smiles and waves to her. “Besides the horned rabbit migration?”

“Is it a migration?”

“Isla saw five within the first four weeks of summer,” Ivan says.

The Lord’s attention falls on the teenager. She’s patiently letting one of the other children – Hera? The one who’d curtsied to him like a little noble – weave flowers into her braid. He tries to imagine her fighting a horned rabbit and his lips thin. “I’ll call for reinforcements from the capital.”

“Marie and I can—”

Lord Brennan waves Ivan off. “No, no, I’ve asked too much of you already. Aren’t the two of you too busy in your retirement already? I thought you’d be settled with a child by now.”

“It’s not good to rush these things,” Ivan says as he has the last three times Lord Brennan has asked. This time it’s Ivan who sighs. “It took Marie and I a good few months to win Director Sarah over after our misstep.”

“Asking about Destinies, was it?”

“Implying we’d value any child less for not being a knight like us,” Ivan corrects.

“There seem to be a lot of unusual Destinies in the orphanage,” Lord Brennan says. He’s not an Identifier but he’s got a good eye. Though no one can know for sure until a child either develops their mark or comes into their power at fifteen, he’s seen more than a few signs of a Scholar, a Guardian, and a Teacher. Once again he finds his gaze being drawn back to Isla. She’s got a child under each arm and is running from Marie again, the game having resumed after their snack break. “That one is a Guard, at least. Nobody else would have physical abilities like that.”

Ivan ignores the Lord’s comment. “It’s been worthwhile getting to know them all.” His smile turns a little more genuine. “They’re all good kids.”

“Surely you and Marie have an inkling of who’ll be a good fit?” When Ivan doesn’t reply, the Lord clicks his tongue. “You can’t choose all of them.”

Ivan’s voice is a study in nonchalance. “Can’t we?”

Lord Brennan opens his mouth only for no words to come out. At length, he has to laugh. His knights do like to keep busy. “You’d need a castle.”

“You did give us one, my lord.”

“I suppose I did.”

The two men lapse into a pleasant silence. It is good to see the townsfolk this cheerful. This town is the furthest from Lord Brennan’s own castle and he rarely has a chance to visit. The first time he had had been very different. The people still bore the wounds of winter in gouged cheeks and brittle smiles. Now he sees the glow of health everywhere he looks.

He contemplates the Director once again. She’d been the only one back then to not seem pleased to see him ride in on his white horse. Even now he can feel the chill of her scrutiny as she stood defensively between him and the orphanage. None of that chill is present today. Her smile is as sweet as his tea while she tends to a scrape the little Scholar sustained in this round of tag. “Ms. Sarah is very pretty, isn’t she?”

“I know we can’t adopt them all,” Ivan blurts out. He doesn’t seem to have heard Lord Brennan. His gaze is turned towards his own inner conflict which is why he also doesn’t notice the blush dusting the Lord’s cheeks. “It wouldn’t be fair to them. Marie and I decided to adopt a child who would benefit from what little we can offer. Military arts and luck.”

“I don’t think you’re being fair,” Lord Brennan says with raised brows. “You and Marie offer a lot more than a Knight’s experience. Haven’t you shown that already in your actions?” He’s not aware of everything his former knights have done, but he’s heard plenty from the children today. He didn’t think Marie had the patience to teach anyone how to read.

Ivan’s hands fist. “It’s not enough, it’s not—the little boy. Josiah. He’s so smart. I don’t even know where to start with him and even Marie says that he’ll soon outpace her—”

“Well,” Lord Brennan says, “Neither of you are Teachers, true, but there is a school for that--”

“And Annie wants to know why bread rises and why the sun sets and how many seconds are in a day—”

“All kids are curious—”

“Hera staged a whole theater production for my birthday and all we could do was clap—”

Is he missing something? “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

“We don’t know any actors or directors to introduce her to!” Ivan cries out. He quickly lowers his voice, but can’t hide the stress around his eyes. “What could we give to a child like her? Like any of them?  Marie and I are out of our depth. It would be so much simpler if one was a Knight!”

The Lord tentatively offers, “If Isla’s a Guard--?”

Ivan gives a cry of distress that he barely capture in the palm of his hand. “Isla! That girl feels like my daughter already, but…she’s been through so much. She doesn’t need a father who teaches her how to fight or a mother who teaches her how to withstand a siege! She deserves to never have to fight again. What could we offer her? What could we possibly give to her she hasn’t already learned on her own?”

A light goes on in the Lord’s head. He takes in the festivities with new eyes. The town’s Baker, Blacksmith, Teacher… His friends have invited every possible parent they could in hopes of providing for the children in ways they felt incapable of doing themselves. As noble as that was…“Ivan, being a parent goes beyond the skills you can give a child. It’s more than fostering talent or an offering an apprenticeship. It’s—”

A horse’s scream drowns out the Lord’s next words.

Ivan is in front of Lord Brennan with his sword drawn before the horses and their blood-splattered riders even round the side of the castle.

-----.

 You throw Annie and Josiah behind you the moment you hear the sound of hooves galloping towards the manor.

“Isla, what—” Josiah starts to ask and then cuts himself off as the innkeepers and their entourage burst into the party.

You smell blood before your eyes register the terrible red staining their fine clothing.

“ORCS!” Mr. Innkeeper screams over the frightened snorts of his horse. He stumbles down from his mount and staggers towards the Lord. “They overtook our carriage—please, my wife, she’s hurt—”

Mrs. Inkeeper is holding her side and seemingly barely holding onto the saddle horn. “Our guards won’t be enough to hold them off—”

“Inside,” Sarah hisses into your ear. She points after Hera who’s already shepherding the younger kids into the building. “Now.”

“—an army—”

“—fast—”

“—waiting for us—”

You move faster than you’ve allowed yourself since you arrived. This is no time to take care in hiding your abilities; there are roars coming from the forest unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. Your senses seem to dial up with your heartrate and you can hear the clash of steel against rock and flesh. You scoop Annie into your arms and leap after Josiah and Sarah.

Mr. Dallen’s face is pale as he ushers you all into the manor. He holds the door open for the townsfolk. The hall fills with the sounds of panic and sobs as fear washes through you like a tidal wave. There have never been orcs south of the mountains, there have never been demons bigger than a horned rabbit in the last twenty years, even when the Winter froze the river—

Mr. Dallen waves down Marie as she sprints to the large doorway. You think that he’s going to pull her inside to safety, but instead he thrusts her bow into her outstretched hands.

“Do not open these doors,” she commands. Behind her the knights are assembling into a formation, their Lord at the center. Ivan stands before them all, barking orders to ready their spears as the trees in front of them begin to sway. Marie pulls a dagger from under her skirts and slices the bottom half of her dress clean off. She kicks it away from her feet as she talks. “Take everyone to the basement—”

“Ma’am, the escape tunnel still isn’t cleared of debris—”

Marie swears so violently that half the townsfolk gasp. She grabs Mr. Dallen by the shoulder, her eyes flicking back and forth between him and her husband. “Then we will draw them away. The moment you think you can, run to the wagon. Get the children to—” She bites her lip. You can see the devastating truth flash through her mind. There isn’t anywhere to go. “Damnit. Bar the door and arm everyone you can.”

Mr. Dallen’s lips are bloodless as he nods. “My lady.”

Marie turns to everyone. Her voice is unlike anything you’ve heard come from her lips; it’s harsh and barking. A commander giving orders much like Ivan is doing outside. “Listen, everyone. We are in danger. Our best estimate is that 25 orcs are marching on the manor. There is no guarantee of survival. The moment this door is breached, it will mean the knights have failed. You must be prepared to fight. Do you understand?”

Twenty-five? Your hands ball into fists and your breath catches in your throat. You’ve heard of entire villages being wiped out by three.

“Then we’ll fight with the knights,” the Baker says. He pushes away from the center of the group and marches to the wall. He pulls down the crossed axes, keeps one, tosses the other to the Blacksmith. She catches it easily. “You’ll need everyone who can hold a weapon.”

Marie never voices her protest. You can see the strain of holding it back in her tense shoulders and her poignant silence. At long last, she nods. “You’re right. Stay behind the knights. They know how to handle the frontline better than you.”

There’s a flurry after that. The townsfolk divide in half. Those unable to fight slide back as those who can start scavenging for weapons. Mr. Dallen grimly pulls two long daggers from under his coat while pointing your neighbors to decorative swords, to ornamental spears, to the heavy coatrack just inside the parlor.

Grimly, you stride past Sarah, ignoring her hiss and darting hands. You can leave the weapons to the villagers, there’s a large knife on the dessert table you can use—

Marie slams a hand against your chest. You stagger back at the weight of the blow, breath knocked from your lungs. You’re more stunned than hurt as you gape at her.

“Children stay here,” Marie says. Her eyes narrow. “No exceptions.”

“But I’m—”

“We don’t have time to argue!” She pushes you further back, clearing the doorway for the armed villagers to run outside towards the knights. “You’re strong Isla, but this isn’t your fight. Stay here. Guard the door.”

The winter wind howls in your mind. You splutter. “But I—”

Marie spins away from you. “Director Sarah.”

Sarah’s arms slide around your shoulders. “Yes, lady.”

 The closing of the door feels like a blow in itself. You stare sightlessly at the unyielding wood as your emotions rage. How could she? You’re strong, you can do more, you can help, you’re the one who kept everyone from starving—

“We need to barricade the windows,” Director Sarah is saying to the townsfolk. Half of them gaze at her uncomprehendingly. Her hands slide from your shoulders slowly, as if testing that you aren’t going to leap outside. When you don’t move, she lets go entirely. “Isla, move the furniture. Hera and Josiah, find something to tie it down with.”

You move on autopilot. There are other hands alongside yours as you push the sofa and armchairs in front of the windows, the townsfolk coming together to defend the manor. Hera darts between you all and pulls the curtains closed, reclaiming the curtain ties to use as rope. She’s got a grim determination in her eyes that looks uncomfortably familiar.

Your attention is on the noise outside. The orcs are slow, but loud. The roars change to squeals and bellows of challenge. Branches break and there’s a terrifying, splintering crash as a tree falls. Metal rings as the knights raise their shields. You can see it all in your mind’s eye, the knights in a defensive line across the length of the garden, the Lord securely in their center. Ivan is shouting about this being what they’ve trained for, that there are more of them than there are orcs, that this city won’t fall—

And the Lord is speaking too, quickly and quietly to Marie. The escape tunnel? Damnit, I should have sent more men—

It will be fine, Marie says. Her bow sings as she holds it ready and you know the way her muscles flex and her eyes narrow from experience. We won’t let a single one of those monsters past us. We won’t--

The knights bellow alongside the orcs. Your heart leaps and your focus is jarred. You’re standing in front of the door again, your hands balled at your sides. Everyone can hear the battle now and the townsfolk scream when the orcs’ battle cries shake the manor.

“Quiet!” Is that your voice? It is. Your eyes slide to the frightened faces behind you. “You’ll distract the knights.”

Sarah steps up alongside you. “And let the orcs know exactly where we are.”

The villagers quiet into aborted whimpers and muffled sobs.

The battle rages, louder and louder. Are orcs big? They sound big. When you close your eyes you can hear the way their feet pummel the earth. Do they have weapons? Metal clashes. A knight screams that their hides are too thick. The Lord shouts back to aim for their eyes. A table splinters, a bow sings, there’s a liquid gasp—

BOOM!

You slam your hands against the door, muscles straining as another blow lands against it. The wood convulses under your hands and the lock creaks. The villagers scream.

“No,” someone whispers. “No, they found us.”

You’re eight and the snow spirits are howling for blood. Your shoulders ache with the effort to hold the door against the wind. The cold is biting at your fingertips and there is an old hope dying in your chest--

Small hands slam against the door next to yours. Hera is snarling and swearing, Josiah is crying. Sarah is telling the kids not to worry, Isla and Hera and Josiah won’t let them in –

They’re here. You’re not alone.

“GET AWAY FROM THERE!”

The orc’s bellow isn’t nearly as loud as Ivan’s roar.

The blow you’re bracing for never comes. Ivan goads the orc to follow him, to leave the manor alone, to eat the man readily available to him—

It does not sound like the knights are winning now.

“My Lord!” Marie’s voice is strained.

“Do not fall back, they’ll corner us—”

“Who is that? Who is—”

The crack under the door lights with a sickly purple. The smell of ozone seeps into the manor. For a moment there is a silence so complete you think you’ve been struck. What was that? Magic? You’ve never seen magic before--

Screams rocket across the field. The Blacksmith’s screams. The Baker’s screams. Marie’s rage-filled howls.

“DEMON KING!”

Your Destiny burns.

---.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

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

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[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow; 9

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit, violence, death, sexual assault

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

chapter 9

When you woke in the morning, the feeling of crushing weight had been released from your chest. The cold mountain air was easy to breathe, and you were now at ease with your loved ones so close. 

It had been three weeks since you had escaped. Not a soul had bothered you here. The mountain was too steep and difficult to search. 

You felt safe with Edmund here. Like the nightmare was finally over. 

Each morning when you woke, Edmund was the first you would look for. You often found him just outside your cabin door by the campfire.

This morning was no exception. 

“Good morning,” he greeted. He was chopping large blocks of wood into smaller pieces for the fire.

“Hey. Did you need a hand?” You walk down the steps of the cabin to where he worked. 

“Sure. Can you make a pile from the wood?”

You trip over the sole of your broken boot. They were too old to survive the mountains. Edmund stops his work to watch you trot over, trying to kick your shoe back in place.

“I was going to go down later this morning to pick up some more flour, and fruit. I’ll see if Vincent’s daughters have any spare shoes.”

You hated when he went down the mountain to get more supplies. Always sure that he wouldn’t return.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” you comment.

“Even if they’re not your size, it’d be better than what you got.”

“I meant to go down. It’s dangerous. Peacekeepers are still looking for us.”

“Ah, I’ll be right.” Edmund takes up his work again, swinging the ax down, “They’re looking in the wrong spots anyway. I had Frances tell a guard you were hiding in the canal beneath the wash house. They’ll be searching for weeks.”

You imagine Coriolanus wading through dirty water and laugh at the thought.

“In any case. My shoes will be fine. I don’t want you wasting your money on me.”

“My money? It’s you who got Snow to send the money to your mother. Boy, was I glad to get that letter!”

He stands tall and pulls an imaginary letter out of his pocket, pretending to read it.

“Dear Edmund, I think of you every day. Wishing, wanting, waiting for you to come to me. I dream about how handsome you are. Strong and smart too.”

You laugh at him. 

“I think Snow wrote that one.”

He laughs with you but all too soon the mood turns back somber.

“I was really worried about you, you know? We all were."

He reaches out to take your hand into his. 

“I was so worried about you!” You twist his hand so you can place a kiss on the back of it. 

“I kept thinking about you trapped with him. I had no idea what he was doing to you.”

You knew what he was insinuating and the thought of it made you shudder. You were his. Would he want you less if he believed that Coriolanus had already touched you? Was that why he had reverted to treating you like a kid? He hadn’t touched you like lovers do since you have been here. Was it because Coriolanus had already marked his territory?

You push his hand away, irritated at the thought. 

“He didn’t do anything to me.”

He reaches back and brushes over the almost healed bruised spots on your neck. You recoil in embarrassment. The night in the kitchen fills your mind. You felt a pool of embarrassment form in your stomach. You should have hated it all but as you remember it, your legs squeeze tighter. It felt good, and you didn't feel like  a victim because of it. 

“You know it doesn’t matter. What he did or didn’t do. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Shut up,” you beg. “Let's just agree to never talk about him again. He’s gone, or will be. Dead to the district and to us.”

“Okay,” Edmund agrees. “I am sorry.”

 You felt bad for lashing out at him when he was only trying to help. You had promised yourself just days ago to be the best thing that had ever happened to him. 

“I’ll go cook breakfast, alright? ‘’

Edmund had caught some fish just yesterday. Even scaled and prepared them for you. And this is how you repaid him?

You go back into the cabin and start to warm up the hot plate in the corner. Coriolanus was far away, yet he still seemed to haunt you. Sometimes you felt his fingertips graze your skin. 

He came to you at night mostly, when Edmund wasn’t around to distract you.

You would wake up swearing that you could feel his weight on top of you. You would wake up checking for bruises from where he held you down but your skin was clear. 

You thought the clear air would push him out but he was stuck and you couldn’t shake him out. 

Would it always be like this? Would your life with Edmund be plagued by thoughts of Coriolanus?

 No. You just need to focus more on Edmund. Time would take care of the rest.  

You push any other thought apart from cooking the fish out of your head. Preparing the food to perfection would exonerate you from your earlier thoughts. 

—- 

Nights were colder up in the mountains then at the compound. Edmund lent you a jacket but it did little to keep out the cold. It added to your sleep troubles. Some nights you would only get an hour or two. Some nights you wouldn’t sleep at all. 

You toss and turn next to your mother, trying not to wake her. You felt unsettled. Too unsettled to sleep. 

Edmund slept on the floor beside you thinking that it might help you sleep. 

You found yourself wanting to be held. After nights with Coriolanus you had gotten used to being coddled. 

You move off the bed and onto the floor next to Edmund. 

“Hey, stranger,” he whispers. 

A lazy arm is thrown over you but it isn’t enough. 

You push closer. “Tighter,” you demand. 

He obliged but it still wasn't enough. Coriolanus would hold you so tight, you felt like it was hard to breathe. You used to hate it but as it turns out you can’t sleep without it. 

Edmund smelt nicer. A soft woody smell. 

He treated you nicer too. Let you choose what you did. You could be angry with him if you chose to. He wouldn’t seek to punish you for it. 

Coriolanus tried to buy your love. Edmund tried to earn it. 

You would learn to sleep without needing to be held in time. 

In the meantime Edmund would be there to support you.

—-----

You sit with Edmund by the campfire while the others sleep. Edmund had paid a informant handsomely to relay District information. He came once a week, late at night to avoid being caught. 

You throw a stick into the fire, your boredom and irritation building the longer it takes. 

“Do we have enough money for him to keep coming up here to tell us the same thing? Peacekeepers are still searching, Snow’s angry. I could tell you that.”

“Roger has his use.  He only needs to give us one piece of crucial information to make the money worth it.” 

“And if we run out before he gives it to us?”

Edmund throws his own stick in the fire, watching it burn. 

“We’ll be right. We still have the three panams from Snow. I have a little left in savings, by the time all that runs dry, it’ll be mining season again.

“Mining season? Surely this will be over by then. We can’t hide here amongst everyone.”

“What choice do we have, Y/N? The Peacekeepers haven’t let up. We can’t go back to the District. When you mine together, you become family. They wouldn’t betray me.” 

Betray him, sure. But you were no one to them. You open your mouth to argue this point but the sound of kicked rocks draws your attention. 

A little man in gray, worn clothing and a cap covering his bald head is lightened by the fire. 

“You’re late.” Edmund comments. 

“Yeah well, Peacekeepers have doubled patrolling the area at night. I come late or I don’t come at all.” 

“Well?” Edmund pushes. He stands up with the coins in his hands. 

“Ravenstill’s dead. Snow’s gone back to the Capitol,” the man spits out on the grass before continuing talking, “Saw him get on the train this mornin’ myself.” 

You sigh in victory. He was gone. Now all that was left was to wait out the attention span of the Peacekeepers. 

“Hold on now. I didn’t say he was staying away. Peacekeeper tells me he’ll be back by the time the week is out with the new Commander.”

“But then he’s gone, right? District 12 can’t have two Commanders?” You rise next to Edmund. 

The older man shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe. He’s offering a large reward for your capture.” 

“Yeah, well I’m offering your life.” Edmund’s voice is hard and threatening. He throws the coin pouch at the man who catches it. 

“Settle, boy. I ain't no traitor. I am just saying it seems unlikely that he would offer up such a price only to walk away.” 

“Keep us updated on the movements of Snow and the areas the Peacekeepers are targeting.”

The man opens the coin pouch to look inside before nodding his head and turning back the way he came.

You take hold of Edmund’s arm. You worried for his fate if you were found. You worried for your own fate. He was unbearable when you failed to escape. Now you have succeeded, what laid ahead if you were to return?

—------

You began to have nightmares of Coriolanus finding you. You would wake with your mother's arms wrapped around you, and Edmund calling your name. 

The dreams always ended the same, no matter how they started; with everyone dead at your feet. 

You would run and hide from him in the forest like the night at the cabin. He would find his way into the cabin late at night and crawl on top of you while your protectors slept. One time he dropped from the sky. 

But you woke to find he hadn’t found you yet.

You avoided going to sleep. Your mother joined in solidarity, despite your protests. She would stay up with you to chase the bad thoughts away. 

Edmund's mother stayed up too. She didn’t want to be the only adult asleep. 

You all wait for the update Roger will bring. 

You sit next to Edmund watching the flames. You don’t hear the man approaching until Edmund's mother greets him. The man offers a head nod back but his attention is for Edmund. 

“Peacekeepers are still searching. Mainly in the city blocks. Rumor that she was seen selling cupcakes in town.” 

You scoff at the thought. At least it kept the Peacekeepers preoccupied. 

“Alright,” Edmund throws the money to Roger but the man doesn’t disappear, “Was there something else?” 

“Her brother,” your heart stops beating. “They got him locked up in the Capitol jail.” 

You shoot up from the log in a panic. 

You feel Edmund grab your hand but can’t hear the words that he is telling you. 

“It’s alright. It’s alright,” he finally breaks through, “They won’t hurt him. He’s all the leverage they’ve got.” 

“God. Edmund, what if they do? It’ll be my fault.” Your tears choke you as you speak.

“They won’t. He’ll be safe, okay. He wouldn’t kill him unless he knew you knew.” 

“What are we going to do? I have to go back. He’ll let him go if I-”

“Don’t be stupid. If you go back now, he’ll use Archie to keep you in line forever.” 

“We can’t leave him there.”

“We won’t. If he wants the presidency he’ll have to go back to the Capitol. We wait him out, and when the new Commander comes, he’ll see Archie was kept for no reason and we will buy him back.” 

Your mother sat sobbing and you joined her. 

Dear God, what have you done?

“From what I was told, they ain't hurt him.”

“See?” Edmund says, “So long as you stay hidden, there would be no point in hurting him.” 

Edmund’s mother comes over and wraps her arms around her elder son. Archie was special to her too. 

You had put all her sons in danger. In her heart, there was no more room for you.

—------------

The news of Archie’s arrest had dampened spirits. The days were long and everyone was irritable.

Edmund feared for his friend. You feared for your brother.

He had spent all his life protecting you, now only for you to get him killed. You wished you were still a little girl waiting by the door for your older brother to come home from work. It was a similar feeling to now. The dread of him not coming home filled you.

You wondered how Coriolanus got him on the train. Was it under threat? Did he beat Archie into submission? Or did he lie and deceive Archie?

Your mother was adamant that his capture was not your fault. Even if that was true, Archie’s detention was. You knew Coriolanus would let you trade yourself for your brother. But Edmund was right, if you folded now your family would always be ready for capture to be used against you.

Edmund’s mother was less sympathetic to it all. You had dragged her family into this and now the boy she considered a third son was rotting in jail because you were too precious to submit to the Commander like the rest of District 12.

She was cold to you, never speaking directly to you and only offering glaring stares. Being treated so terribly oddly felt validating. People should be angry with you. You had put them in danger.

You look at Edmund's little brother across the other side of the campfire. He clung to his mother's skirt, resting his head on her lap. He was just a boy, you couldn’t bear it if a hair on his head was harmed. And yet you have asked him to hide in a mountain with you. Leave his school and his friends behind.

No one had spoken for hours as you sat together around the camp, so when Edmund moved suddenly it caught everyone's attention. 

He shoots up from where you rested upon him on the log to gaze out as smoke ringlets circle the sky. 

“Get your things. Make sure to leave nothing behind.”

None of you move, perplexed at his outburst. 

“Now!” he shouts, “Move!” 

His anxiety caused you all to jump up and follow his command. He kicks dirt over the campfire to make it look unused while the rest of you pack what little you have. 

 You came with nothing so you focused on the pots and pans, and stripping the beds. 

He joins you as you work with his mother and brother to clean their room. 

“What’s going on?” His mother demands but doesn’t stop her work of shoving clothes into a sack held by her youngest son. 

“Peacekeepers are searching the mountains.” 

“Where are we going to go?” you panic. They would search all of the mountains. 

“The mines. They won’t search there. Too unstable for people who don’t know what they are doing.” 

He takes the bag of pans off you and throws it over his shoulder. 

The mines were a dangerous place to hide, and there was no certainty that the Peacekeepers wouldn’t search them. If they did you would be trapped. They would just keep pushing forward until your group reached a dead end.

Nevertheless, Edmunds leads the group to the trail that leads into the mines. 

You couldn’t decide what would be worse, dying by a Peacekeeper or in a mine like your father. 

But with Edmund’s hand in yours, at least the rocks of the mountain would let you keep him. The Peacekeepers would tear you from him only in death. 

Even with the bags of stuff, the trail is tread quickly.

The cave is dark and so, so cold. You hide in the shadows with your group. Edmund stands to the front once he has herded the group into safe standing. 

It is completely silent for what feels like a lifetime. Nothing but the birds in the trees and the wind. It lulls you into a false sense of security. Maybe Edmund was wrong. Maybe his source on the other side was mistaken and blew the smoke prematurely. But soon a distant sound of heavy tire treads could be heard rolling up the hill.

You ignored the first sign of people approaching. But as they got heavier and the talking got louder, it got harder to assure yourself that you wouldn’t be found.

You clutch Edmund's arms. You feel it move to reach for the pocketknife in his pocket. 

Peacekeepers call to each other. They were close, you could hear clearly as they spoke. 

“Hey, let's go.”

“Commander Snow said every inch”.

“You lookin’ to get killed? Those mines collapse all the time.” 

You hold your breath waiting. Should you walk out now to save everybody else?

“Come on, man. No one’s here. We’ve still got half the forest to get to. Come on.”

You feel Edmund relax under you as the Peacekeepers walk away. 

None of you move. The threat remains in the woods. None of you were safe until the Peacekeepers were out of the woods and had reported to Coriolanus that nothing was there. 

The mountains were large, you wondered how many Peacekeepers had been spared to search it. Even if thirty men, it would take a whole day at least.

It was a whole day spent in the cave, waiting for the Peacekeepers to come back. But no sound was ever heard.

Night falls before Edmund makes the call to investigate. 

His mother kisses him before he leaves. 

You cringe under her stare. You had put her baby boy in danger. It was your fault that she now had to hide in the mountains away from her home. 

It will be a rocky start once all of this is over. How could you work to earn back her affection after all the pain you have caused her? 

Edmund's little brother had taken over the role of protector. He stood at the front of the cave, tall and fierce like his brother had. He clutched his knife and looked out into the night with a hunter's eyes.

Edmund was gone for hours but his little brother never tired of his role. If Peacekeepers turned up, the little boy was ready.

You watch over him as his mother makes what little she can from the food.

A dark figure cast into the cave, and you grab the little boy, pulling him back against you to protect him. It was too tall, too broad for Edmund. You shrink back into the shadows as it approaches, reaching down to pull the knife from the boy. On instinct, you open your mouth to scream but it is Edmund's voice that calls you. 

“They are gone. Cars are gone, and there are no markings to pick up the search. They won’t return.”

You shake the fear out of you and release Edmund's brother from your protective hold. 

Coriolanus had weaved himself into your mind. Every shadow; every sound was him. 

You needed Edmund to take his place, but he often acted like a ghost to you, touching you only in reproach. 

You wanted to keep something from Coriolanus' reach. To give some shred of you to Edmund that could never be given back. 

You started by hugging him tight. 

—---

You had decided to sleep with Edmund at the first opportunity after the scare yesterday.

It was hard to pin him down between his hunting, working around the camp, and his family. 

You felt like his shadow as you lingered, trying to single out his attention. 

He would offer you a smile every time you saw him but wouldn’t stop his work. 

You followed him into the woods but his brother would insist on coming to learn how to shoot. 

Back at camp, his mother blocked you from his attention. It seemed impossible to gain an audience with him. 

You tried to tell him what you wanted but the words would never form in your mouth. He was always too busy to hear them anyway. Telling you to wait until back at camp to tell him what you were trying to say. But camp was too crowded so you always pretended to forget what you wanted to say. 

It took three days of pining before the mothers took the washing to the lake. It would take them all day to rinse and dry the clothes and sheets. Normally you would go and help but today you had a goal in mind. 

You hide Edmund’s catch from this morning and tell Edmund’s brother that another animal had run off with dinner tonight. You had asked him to go catch fish but he was determined that he could catch actual prey. He was a hunter like his brother, he insisted. 

Whatever got him lost for a couple of hours. He didn’t actually have to catch anything but you hoped he did. You would boast about him at dinner. He was a good kid and deserved more attention. 

“Hey,” Edmund greeted you. He had gone to collect more firewood and you had grown impatient waiting for him to get back. 

“Where is everyone?” 

You don’t answer him. He looked so handsome, slightly covered in dirt from his work. 

You wanted this to be the moment you remember forever. If Coriolanus did find you, you wanted to at least have this memory of Edmund. 

He looks confused as you grab his arm and pull him into the cabin but follows your direction. 

You slam the door shut and push Edmund up against the wall, cementing your body like what had been done to you on so many occasions. 

You kiss him hard, letting him know how badly you need him. 

He stills you with a firm grip on your shoulders, tilting his head higher out of your reach. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I want it to be you. Not him.” Even on your tippy toes, you could not reach him. 

“Not now,” he scolds. 

“Yes now,” you refute, “I can feel him getting closer every day.” 

Edmund looks down upon you, taking your face gently in your hands. 

“You’re safe. He’s not going to get you. I’ll keep you safe.” 

You knew he would try but you felt Coriolanus in your bones. You knew he would catch you. 

“Please,” you whine. Your hands reach for his belt but he traps your hands. 

“You are not going to give me this under threat. He’s not going to persuade you to do something you’ve had the past few years to do yourself.” 

“I want to,” you protest. You manage to capture his lips again and he mercifully kisses back. 

His barrier was weak. You were sure you could break it down. His hands held your hips and not your wrists, almost giving you permission. 

“Edmund! Edmund!” The sound of his little brother's voice was heard only seconds before the door opened. 

You separate. Edmund looked almost relieved. He eyes you by his side but gives his attention to his brother. You had broken down his wall but he was saved by the bell. 

“Look!” the little boy proudly held up a small dead rabbit. You wished you insisted on the fish. 

“Good job, buddy.” Edmund moves from you to his brother, straightening his jacket as he walks. 

“I’ll help you dress it.”  Edmund doesn’t look at you as he leads his brother back out to the open. 

“I can do it!” The little voice demanded. 

“I know, buddy. But we can’t afford to lose any meat.”

You could cry at the sense of rejection. Edmund wouldn’t give you another opportunity. You had just wanted to show that you loved him but he would have to settle for words. 

—----

You were cold to Edmund the following days, even as you tried to let it go. You wouldn’t look at him as you passed him his meals. Would only speak to him to answer a question. You wouldn’t say more than what was needed. 

He still slept on the floor next to you despite your behavior.

You knew he was trying to protect you by his rejection but it stung. 

Coriolanus had made you feel desirable.  He performed extraordinary measures just for a kiss. And here you were throwing yourself at Edmund, begging him for just that, only to be tossed aside. 

Was Edmund's affections real or just a product of Coriolanus interference? 

You felt stupid for making the first move. You should have just forgotten the whole thing. Edmund was loyal. He just got confused, and you played the fool. Now you had put him in an uncomfortable situation that could risk any relationship with him after this ordeal. 

 You loved him but you should have stayed silent about it. 

Half of you hoped that Coriolanus would find you and take you away. Maybe Edmund would feel guilty about his rejection, and regret it. 

You roll over in bed towards where Edmund is lying on the floor. 

No, that’s not true. 

You’d rather be Edmund’s doormat than Coriolanus' bride.  

—---------

Coriolanus stood backstage at the presidential show. They would perform now for the audience. Answering questions, and charming the crowd. Coriolanus should feel on top of his game. He was known for being charming. It was all he had for the longest time. 

Augustus stood at the other side of the stage, Coriolanus could see him through gaps in the curtains talking to his campaign manager.

Coriolanus couldn’t bear to talk to anyone until he was forced to. 

His thoughts were occupied with you. All of the District was searched, and all he received from it was rumors. A few whispered leads but nothing to truly go on. 

He needed to shake you out so he could focus on his night. 

He hated you now more than ever. It was one thing to betray him, it was another to interfere with his presidential campaign. You should have been here now to support him. 

But instead, you had run off with another man. He should have killed Edmund when he had the chance. Coriolanus had kept him as a pawn but Edmund had turned himself into a knight. 

Lucky was warming up the crowd to introduce the candidates. Coriolanus couldn’t be thinking of this now. You were here. You had gone back to the apartment and he found you there. There was no hole in the fence Peacekeepers failed to find, and Edmund was dead. 

When he went back to the Snow penthouse tonight, he would find you there. Drinking tea with Grandma’am and Tigris. 

Coriolanus hears his name being called and he enters the stage with a smile.

District 12 was a small place, you couldn’t hide forever. Coriolanus would take the first train back tonight and follow every lead himself. 

—----------

You were adding spices to the stew when wildflowers popped up under your face. 

Edmund stood behind you with a shy smile. 

“I am sorry. Please stop being angry with me,” he begs. 

You take the flowers from him to show you are not hostile. 

“I am not angry. I just-” you pause your words unsure on what to say, “You haven’t kissed me or even really touched me since I’ve been here. If you don’t feel the same way that's fine, Just-”

“You’re really stupid. You know that?” he cuts you off. He takes a step towards you. You take it as an invitation to place your hands on his arms. 

“I’ve loved you since I can last remember. And you take me giving you a little space after you’ve just spent a ridiculous amount of time as a hostage to a man who thinks torturing is the same thing as courting, as a sign I ain't interested?”

You kiss him gently and he allows you to. Your heart swelled under his words. He loved you. 

“I meant what I said though. I ain't touching you under threat. When the time’s right, and it’s just the two of us, I’ll give you anything you want. But allow yourself to heal first. I don’t want you to regret anything.” 

You kiss him again to show your gratitude. 

“Thank you. I am sorry, Edmund. I love you.” 

“I love you too, stupid.” 

Coriolanus shakes Lucky Flickerman's hand as the crowd cheers for him. Presidency was close even if you were far.

—------

Despite not having a choice, camp life was agreeable. You worked closely with Edmund, helping him where you could and supporting him where you could not.

Your mother seemed happy too, despite her son being in the Capitol jail. But plans were already forming to get him out. And he was safe, or at least relatively safe. You had no idea what he faced but you knew it would not be death. Not yet. Not without Coriolanus knowing that you knew what had happened to him.

The new Commander of District 12 was sworn in yesterday. Coriolanus was there to hand over the title. Roger had said he seemed uptight and disinterested in the affair. You were sure Coriolanus would be gone soon.

Back to the Capital where he belonged. An air of victory floated around you. He would be president and you would return to District 12 where you belonged, but as Mrs. Flair.

You no longer had nightmares of Coriolanus. Soon this memory would fade into a distant dream.

But it all happened so fast; a loud banging noise woke you, and dozens of pairs of boots stomped across the floor. Edmund woke too, tried to fight them off but there were too many of them. All in protective gear and all with weapons. 

They drag him and your mother out. None of the Peacekeepers touch you even as you hit and yell. 

It was early morning, the sunlight had just been cast over the mountains but the ground was still frozen and wet with condensation. 

Edmund and your mother were thrown on the ground and held down while their hands were cuffed behind their backs. Edmund's mother and brother soon followed. 

You grapple with a Peacekeeper trying to cuff Edmund's hands. He does his best to avoid you but no one pulls you away. Your hands remain free and none of the Peacekeepers make a move to trap you. 

“Please,” you beg amongst the crying and Edmund’s yelling. 

You almost don't recognize him. His hair had grown out, and he wore an expensive red coat instead of his Commander uniform. 

But his eyes remained the same. Blue and fierce they gazed down at you. You had run straight past him without noticing.

You rush to him in panic, falling at his feet and grabbing his black pant leg in a tight hold. 

“Coriolanus, please,” you beg him, “Please I’ll go back. Just release them.”

He ignores you. Nodding to a Peacekeeper who takes a long length of rope from his belt and throws it over the branch of a tree. Another two bring Edmund to his feet, pushing him as he resists.

His mother wails, joining your begging. 

“No! No! Wait please!” They continue to set up the rope. 

“Coriolanus, please!” you had time to beg as the Peacekeeper does the knot. 

He continues to watch Edmund, listening to Edmund's insults rather than your cries. 

“Commander, please. I won’t ever do it again. I’ll be perfect.” 

He still ignores you. Not even glancing at you as you beg him from the dirt. 

“No, no.” The Peacekeeper finishes the knot and fastens it around Edmund's neck.

You go to reach him. You would hold him up if you had to, but Coriolanus caught you by your hair and held you in place. 

Edmund kicks like a fish out of water as the rope is pulled by two Peacekeepers on the other side. 

You pull against Coriolanus' hold, almost yanking your hair out trying to reach him.

Edmund looks at you as he struggles. His hold body shook, and he kicked at the air in hope. His lips half form your name but it never quite parts from his lips.

Coriolanus does let you go but it was too late. Edmund had stopped kicking. Stopped blinking. Stopped breathing. 

You run to him anyway, dropping where he hung. 

You reach out and touch his foot as it sways. 

“Kiss your mother goodbye, and let’s go.” His voice shoots ice down your spine. 

You wanted to scream and yell and cry, but you could do nothing but stare at the dirt in front of you. The sound of crying filled your ears. Dear god, this was all your fault. 

Coriolanus doesn’t ask you again, just grabs a fistful of hair and yanks you to movement. 

You felt too disorientated to fight back. 

He drags you past Edmund's crying mother and brother who couldn’t tear their eyes away from the tree. 

You wanted to reach out to say something, but Coriolanus was in a rush to get back to the Capitol. 

“Mum,” was all you could call out as you pass her.

He drags you along to a parked patrol car and throws you in the cage used for rebels. 

It felt as if the earth had swallowed you whole. There was no fight left in you. All you felt was despair.

Coriolanus had no pity for you. He barely glanced at you as he locked the cage and closed the door. 

You lay in the back in your borrowed nightdress and Edmund’s jacket. You bring it up to your face as you sob. He was dead. All hope of a happy future was gone with him. You would remain Coriolanus’ slave until the day you died.

The journey throws you around as they speed down the hill and back to the city section of the District. 

You sob the entire way. Edmund was dead because of you. Your brother was in jail. Your mother is now all alone in this world. You wanted to die too. It would be kinder than this existence. 

Edmund was dead because of you. His family left without their provider because of you. Your heart ached. Your grief suffocated you. You gasp for air but your sobs block any from reaching your lungs.

What have you done? Why did you think you stood a chance of escape?

You begged the universe to turn back time. You wouldn’t go to the jail. You were trying to do the right thing but your kindness had led to your world being ripped apart.

Why did you have to do it, you thought to yourself. Life could have been so sweet if you weren’t so foolish.

What would your life be like now? Coriolanus wouldn’t be taking you back to the Compound now there was a new Commander. Were you going to the Capitol so soon?

You had a hard time adjusting to life at the Compound. How would you ever survive the capital?

Would you survive the Capital? After Coriolanus had finished with you, would he keep you around after you had betrayed him?

He seemed a different man. Could he still say he was in love with you? Or has that game now ended?

The car stops at the train station. Talking and car doors slamming cut through the business of the station.

The harsh light enters when the door is yanked open by Coriolanus.

You don’t want to get out, hoping to get shot for your resistance. 

Coriolanus drags you out by your ankle, taking a tight hold of your arm as he gets you upright and pushes through onto the train. 

You don’t struggle against him as he leads you through the busy station. What would be the point?

You enter first class, and the doors get locked by maids behind you. 

The only word you can say is “no”, over and over again. 

This couldn’t be happening. Was this just another bad dream? Please, just let this be a bad dream. 

Coriolanus shoves you into a booth, and you slump against the window. He sits next to you trapping you in. You had no energy to move. Only sob against the cold glass. 

You should have just saved yourself the trouble and stayed. Why did you have to anger him?

With the most important passenger on board, the train moves out of the station. 

“Enough,” he tells you. But you couldn’t follow his command even if you tried. 

You watch the District shoot past you. How you wished you could open the window and throw yourself out. 

The rocks pass, and the trees begin to blur into one another. Coriolanus is silent for hours as you cry against the window still. 

You could feel him sometimes looking at you but otherwise, he just sat there. Fixing the jewelry he wore. A gold pinky ring with your ring stacked on top of it. His coat buttons were dipped in gold. He had a new watch, a present from Tigris for returning home. 

It was only when you shifted from the window and slumped over the table did he speak. 

“We were supposed to be in the Capitol weeks ago.” 

The Capitol. His presidential run. You had just lost everything you had ever known and he talks about being behind schedule.

You sit up to face him. He was no longer the Commander you knew but something far more fearsome.

“You think I care about the Capitol?!” You cry, “You took everything from me! You ruined my life,” you scream at him.

He grabs your jaw in his hand and pushes your head back against the glass. The glass is solid and cold as you are pressed against it.

“Your mother has joined your brother in the District 12 jail. I would be very careful what you say to me. Did you think this was a game? Did you think I wouldn’t search for you? Wouldn’t find you?” 

The door slides open and Coriolanus releases you. A servant walks in with breakfast, and another behind her with juice and pastries. 

They set the food and cutlery down in silence. You notice they don’t look up or around, only at what they are doing. 

Coriolanus doesn’t thank them as they leave. He doesn’t eat either. 

“Coriolanus, are they going to be okay?”

“We could have just left, Y/N. No one had to get hurt.”

You turn back to the window as you speak, “I know.”

The food sat at the table for five minutes untouched before Coriolanus called for it to be taken away again. The servants come quickly and the food is taken away in the same manner it was delivered; quickly and silently. 

“It’s three days to the Capitol.” he stands up as he spoke to you, “Two days after that they will announce the new president of Panem. Whatever this is, it’s finished. You do the slightest thing to displease me and your family will follow Edmund.” 

You flinch at his name. Edmund would haunt you for the rest of your days. You hoped he would. 

“Do you understand me?” he asks.

“Yes, Commander.” 

He flinches at the name but doesn’t comment. He clears his throat and walks away into the other carriage. 

You pick up on your crying again. You should have known that your rage only ever backfired on your loved ones. 

Your throat ached and your eyes were puffy, soon you had no more tears left to cry. 

You try a door to see where it leads but it must have a sensor on it because it didn’t open as easily as it did for Coriolanus. He had trapped you in the room. This was your life now. Waiting for Coriolanus to decide what to do with you.

You curl up on the seat and let the train lull you to sleep.

The servants must have come back in during your nap for when you woke the table was filled with food again. A large jug of water sat on the table. You finish all of it and lay back down again.

Coriolanus returns much later, around dinner time. 

“You’re still there,” he observes as the door lets him through. 

“Where else could I go?” 

His hand presses a large button and what you thought was a wall slides to reveal a bedroom. 

“You should wash up for dinner. You have dirt all over you.” 

You did want to take a shower, but you didn’t want to lose Edmund’s jacket. 

Coriolanus steps forward to grab you, but you rise upon seeing him move. Nothing he said was ever a suggestion.

The room was large, with a queen-sized bed decorated in a rich, heavy fabric of deep blue. There were four large pillows and a set of smaller ones with the Panem emblem on them.

A wall was built to hang clothes. You could only see three sets of Coriolanus’ clothing and a dress and a nightgown for you.

On the other side, there was door to a spacious bathroom. You had thought the commanders apartment bathroom was impressive but now you could see why the Capital looked down at the districts.

This bathroom alone was almost as big as the bedroom in the Commander's quarters. Beautiful gold and white titles lay across the floor. A white marble sink with a gold tap. You reach out to touch it.

‘‘Take your clothes off.” Coriolanus demanded. He reaches for the buttons on his own shirt causing the panic to rise in you again.

What would it matter what he did to you? But still, you felt too frozen to move.

He gets halfway through the buttons on his shirt to see you still dressed. His eyes darken as he reaches out to you.

You shrink back against the marble countertop as he yanks Edmund's jacket from your shoulders and throws it to the ground. Your eyes follow it there, as Coriolanus slips your borrowed nightdress off.

You expected more of a reaction from him after all this time. But he seems uninterested in your naked body. He takes your arm and pulls you to the shower head where he fiddles with the tap until the water is to his liking.

He throws you under the hot water while he finishes undressing. The clothes are left on the floor as he joins you in the shower.

You move out of his way to let him have the water but he pulls you back under and reaches for a soft sponge hanging against the wall.

“Look at you,” he mutters. He scrubs the sponge under your nails to get rid of the dirt that had caked under them.

Satisfied he scrubs the sponge up your arms to your neck and down your back. He scrubs too hard. It feels as if he is peeling off your skin.

He is quick along your stomach. Not spending too much time before moving on.

You flinch when he crouches down to scrub at your legs but he stops mid-thigh and returns to full height, dragging the sponge up your leg and resting on your left hip.

“Are you going to do it now?”  It was important that you were clean for him, you supposed.

He drops the sponge, using his hand to wrap around your throat and force you back into the glass.

You don’t look at him as he stares at you. He steps closer, wrapping his arm around your waist and bring you against him.

He rests his forehead against your collar bone, the steam filled the air and fogged your view. He is so still and silent. He had made no move to grope you. You couldn’t tell if he even looked at you. He just held you close and breathed deeply. 

The room became hard to breathe in as the water turned into steam. But you were too scared to voice even that complaint. He moved from your collar bone to rest his chin on your shoulder but then went still again. 

“Coriolanus?” His name was barely a breath on your lips. 

“I am so angry at you,” he said softly. You feel the hand on your throat tighten.

“How could you do that to me?’’ He lifts his head off of you to look you in the eye.

“Augustus has been opening hospitals and amongst the Capitol people, while I have been chasing you around District 12. Do you have any idea how that made me look?’’

You think of your family in jail as you speak. “I am sorry.”  

“You’re sorry? Not good enough.”

He looked so different with his blonde wet hair pressed down on his forehead. The ends curled slightly towards his face.

“You won, Coriolanus. What more do you want from me?”

“I don’t feel as if I have won. I feel as if I have been betrayed.”

Your eyes twitched with irritation. He felt betrayed? You were astonished you that he felt like the victim after causing you so much pain. He was the only bad thing to have happened. The cause of his own misery.

“You killed Edmund,” you sobbed, “You killed him.”

You bring a fist against his shoulder, but it landed without true force.

“I let him live once. Remember?”

The memory of target training at the train station flashes through your mind before you could block it.

“What made you think I would make the same mistake twice?”

He releases you to turn off the tap. You stood frozen as he dries himself.

His anger had lit yours so when he exited the bathroom, you followed, wet and dressed only in a towel.

“Edmund was a good man.”

Coriolanus was readying himself for bed. He spared you a irritated look.

“And now he’s a dead man.”

His sentence stung you.

You wiped the running tears off your eyes. “He was a good man,” you repeat.

He was the only man for you. The love of your life, now dead and gone.

“How did you know? Did Roger rat us out?” you ask.

“You did,” you wait for him to elaborate as he dresses in his pajamas, “Your letter to your brother. People disappear all the time up there.”

You feel your heart drop at his words. A new wave of guilt comes crashing over you.

“He was smart hiding there. He knew the area well. And the smoke signals? Very good. I never did find out who was sending them, but what use are they if you don’t see them.”

Was. Knew. No more.

 “Well enough to fool my Peacekeepers, but I thought, why would she put that in a letter to her brother? Unless it was to warn him. Why else tell him not to come back? You love your brother, of course you would want him back.”

Tears well in your eyes again.

“Is he okay? Have you hurt him?” you accuse.

“It would serve me no purpose to hurt him.”

His movements are hard and sharp as he puts on his satin button-up shirt.

“So you’ll release him? Both of them?” They served no purpose to him in the Capitol.

“When I can trust you again.” He spat.

It could be years before a paranoid Coriolanus decided he trusted you.

“You can trust me. I promise. I’ll make it up to you, just please let them go.”

You walk over to him, reaching out to touch him. It normally worked to disarm him. He is receptive to you, taking a hand and placing it against your face.

“You know why I can trust you? Because I have your family locked in a cage.”

He disappears along with his touch, going over to the cupboard and throwing a deep blue matching nightgown on the bed.

He says nothing else before returning to the dining room and leaving you in the bedroom alone.

You cry as you dress, and don’t stop as you throw the small pillows across the room and sink into the mattress.

Everything you did was wrong. People were hurt because you weren’t smart enough to protect them. Your mother and brother sat in a dirty jail cell, and you had put them there.

They bore the consequences of your stupidity.

Your mind ran and ran with your anxiety. Images of your mother and brother being beaten in a small cell. Edmund’s family slowly starving to death without him. The memory of Edmund as he swayed from the rope.  

You wallow in bed for an hour before Coriolanus rejoins.

You feel him slip into bed beside you. He wraps his arms tightly around you and for the first time in months you fall asleep easily.

You woke the next morning with the feeling of crushing sadness.

Coriolanus was awake next to you. You could hear him practicing a speech as he laid beside you. You don’t move. You weren’t even sure if you could.

A knock on the door stops him, and he bids the person to come in.

You don’t have to look to know it was a servant with a breakfast tray.

Coriolanus reaches for your shoulder to turn you over. You follow his direction and he props a pillow up behind you so you could sit up.

You thank the person as they put a small table over your lap.

You felt nauseous just looking at the food. But asking them to take it away may cause trouble for them so you wait until they leave to reject the food.

You place the table on the floor and roll back onto your side. Your bones felt like cement, and your eyes welled with tears but you didn’t have the energy to cry.

Coriolanus said nothing to you as he eats.

He mutters his speech between sips of coffee. Soon that was finished too, and he rose for the day.

He crosses your eyesight as he approached the wardrobe, and you watch him dress. It seemed odd to see him in anything other than his Commander uniform.

You had never seen Capitol fashion before. It was full of layers and tiny details. The buttons on his shirt had a silver swirl design that caught the light. His shirt was crisp and white with a design of two black flowers on either side, reaching from the end of the shirt to his shoulders.

“I have some work to do. Interviews and thank you letters. So, if you decide to come out be quiet.”

You had no plan to leave your spot, but you nod in understanding.

He doesn’t look or speak to you again as he leaves the room.

You felt as if you had died too. There was no life in you anymore.

You lay for hours in the same spot. Occasionally you could hear Coriolanus as he spoke.

The weight on your shoulder caused it to ache but you couldn’t make yourself move.

The only time you shifted during the hours was when the servants returned to serve you lunch. They took the dirty dishes but also the dirty laundry.

You lunch up to stop the women carrying out Edmund’s brown coat.

“Wait, please!” you grab the worn material off her, “Not this. Leave this.”

The two women look between each other, unsure.

“Mr. Snow said to take everything.”

You swing the jacket over you, positioning yourself in it.

“He didn’t mean this.” Edmund’s faint scent lingered on the fabric. He gave it to you to keep warm at night. You had come to associate it with the feeling of protection.

The young girl bows to you and the other follows suit. As they leave, you know it’s to tell Coriolanus.

You sit and wait for him on the bed.

Coriolanus storms in not moments later.

“The jacket,” he demanded.

“No, Coriolanus. Please let me keep it.”

He launches at you, tearing at the jacket trying to pull it off you. You fight against him, cementing your arms to yourself and trying to wriggle free.

He gets it half off your shoulders. But he grew too frustrated to finish the job. He pulls you up towards him by the collar of the jacket.

“Take the jacket off or I’ll tell them not to bother feeding your mother tonight.”

Edmund was right. Coriolanus was always going to use your family as a weapon.

But the needs of the living overtook those of the dead. You had to make sure they were as safe as you could make them.

He gets off you and you get up to give him the jacket.

As he takes the jacket with one hand, he smacks you with the other.

You make a startled sound but Coriolanus is gone before you finish it.

You return back to your spot and sob into your pillow.

With the jacket now gone, you had truly lost every piece of Edmund.

And with him, you have lost every piece of yourself. Only Coriolanus remained.

 ————

 Three hours after lunch, Coriolanus came to sit on your side of the bed next to you.

“I’ve brought you a cup of tea.”

“Thank you. I don’t want tea.”

Coriolanus’s face is tense as he places the cup on the table next to you.

“They tell me you didn’t have lunch either. Is that your plan? To starve yourself to death before we reach the Capitol?”

“I have no plan,” you admit.

 “Well I do. I have lots of plans, and you’re through with delaying them. So Sit up and drink your tea.” 

He reaches out to your neck to help you sit up. The tea is placed into your hands but it is him you stare at. 

“You look so different.” 

His hair was a soft white color as it grew out. His clothes were fashionable and colorful. Nothing of the District 12 Commander remained. 

He runs his fingers through his hair, combing it back. 

“I am still the same.” 

“I don’t think that’s true.”  You didn’t think it was possible but he was colder, held himself with somehow more confidence. This was the new leader of Panem. 

“What would you know? You never bothered to get to know me.” 

“I think I know you better than anyone else.” 

He showed you parts of himself you were sure he hid from others. The nightmares. The secret yearning to be taken care of. The heartbreak he carried from the loss of his mother. 

“Think, think, think. What have I told you about thinking? You’re no good at it. I’ll do it. Now drink your tea.” 

You take a sip of the scalding tea. It quenches some of your thirst. 

“Will I ever go back to District 12?” you ask. 

You weren’t really sure you would want to. 

“No.” 

“What’s going to happen to me once we reach the Capitol?”

He sighs, ‘‘That depends on you.” 

“Will it be like the compound?”

He laughs humorlessly, “Nothing is like the compound.” 

“I meant being locked indoors.”

“Will I let you roam free around the Capitol? No.” He doesn’t look at you as he speaks. His eyes move around the room, looking at the subtle details. 

“But if you are well-behaved, and do enough to earn it, I will show you all the Capitol has to offer.” 

His eyes move down, back to you. 

“You’ll grow to admire the Capitol. You won’t hate it forever.” 

You go to refute his statement. Nothing in the Capitol could fill the gaping hole left in you from being torn from your home and family. But a servant knocks on the door, taking Coriolanus’s attention. 

He commands them to come in but the small girl only steps upon the threshold and never through it. 

“Sir, you have a call.”

“I’ll be right there.” He answers back. 

She bows and doesn’t rise until the door is shut again.

“Duty calls,” you taunt. 

“Yes.” His eyes are back to being everywhere but on you, “I want that tea finished before I get back.”

As soon as he leaves, you get up and pour the tea down the bathroom sink. 

—----

The next morning was the same. You laid in bed for hours, unmoving. 

Only this morning they didn’t bother to bring you breakfast. You wondered if you would have eaten it, if it was offered, but your guilt still felt so heavy. 

Lunchtime came around and Coriolanus disrupted your wallowing. 

“Get up. We reach the Capitol soon.” He orders. 

He plucks a dress off the rack and lays it across the bed, just under your feet. 

It was a blush pink satin gown that tied in a low ribbon at the back. Matching heels that wrapped around your ankle were placed on the floor below. 

You sit up to touch the fabric of the dress, and Coriolanus sneaks behind you with a hair brush. 

He begins to untangle your hair but he pulls it too harshly. You could feel the tender spot on your head from where he had pulled it just two days before. 

“There will be cameras when we step off the train. Fashion is very important in the Capitol. You’ll have to get used to not wearing the same dress every day.” 

He pulls a knot too harshly and you let out a cry of pain. 

His hand moves yours from the spot and massages it gently. 

“That wouldn’t have happened if you had gotten up at some point.” 

He returns the brush to the carry bag and returns to you, holding out his hands. 

You take them and he pulls you up out of the bed.

His hands move to your nightdress and he pulls it off to place the pink satin gown over your head. He spins you around so he can tie it in the back. 

“Put on your shoes and meet me outside.” 

He places a kiss on the back of your shoulder before leaving you. 

The shoes are hard to walk in. While not overly tall, the heel itself was narrow. Trying to walk felt like a balancing act. You could only manage small steps. 

Coriolanus sat at the booth looking out of the window. 

The landscape had changed from long stretches of dry dirt to tall buildings. 

You sit down opposite him and gaze out the window at it all. 

It seemed unreal. 

Every building shined. The Panem flag was hung wherever possible. The sky seemed extra blue. 

You had never felt homesick but now you realize why Coriolanus was so eager to get back home. 

The scenery disappears as you enter a tunnel and stop at your destination. 

Your hand is tugged as Coriolanus heads to the exit with the servants and the bags just ahead of you.

You could hear a commotion as you got closer. Voices overlapped and snapping sounds of flashing cameras joined the noise. 

The lights were blinding as you exited the carriage. 

Coriolanus seemed in his element. He waved and smiled as he lead you through the sea of cameramen and reporters. 

They all shouted at him as they held microphones up to his face. But he didn’t stop to make a comment. 

More people surrounded the outside. Peacekeepers made a path to a sparkling black car with their bodies blocking the crowd. 

He was hailed a king here, and a tyrant back in District 12. All for the same thing. 

The scene was overwhelming. Not only were you in a foreign place without your family, but you felt yourself suffocating amongst the crowd. If one were to break through, the rest would follow ending in a catastrophe. 

You were a stranger, an enemy. You did not belong here. 

You wanted to turn back to the train but Coriolanus’s hold prohibited such action. 

Someone opens the car door for him and he lets you enter first. 

The silence that greets you helps to settle your nerves. With a final wave, Coriolanus joins you in the car, and it takes off from the crowd. 

He sighs and readjusts his jacket so it falls in front of him. 

Your hands shake so you keep them clamped together on your lap.

Coriolanus doesn’t speak to you as you peer out the window. 

You felt as if you had stepped onto another planet. 

The streets were colorful, both in design and people. Cars gilded next to you and in front of you. There were statues and water fountains on every corner. 

All gained from the hard labor of the Districts. 

Still, you couldn’t take your eyes off the passing scenery. You are hypnotized for the 20 minutes that the car drives. But it soon stops in front of a large brick building. 

“Do you live here?” Was this your new home? You wondered. 

“No one lives here,” he answers shortly. 

He exits the car, holding the door open for you. Following him out, you hear the voice of a man greet Coriolnaus. 

“Mr. Snow. Welcome.” 

The man was a little overweight in a suit that was finely tailored to him. He had bleached his eyebrows and mustache, and wore many pieces of jewelry.  

“Thank you for meeting with us.” Coriolanus shook the man’s hand but returns it to yours as soon as it ended. 

“Of course, Mr. Snow. We were happy to accommodate you. Please, follow me.” 

The man leads you both into the building and through the halls but only talks to Coriolanus about the history of the building. 

It was a beautiful building that housed artwork and portraits along the walls. 

You could tell Coriolanus didn’t care but remained civil. His fingers squeeze yours as he is ushered into a room. 

Like everything in the Capitol, it is unnecessarily large and grand. Gold candle holders, rows and rows of pews made of expensive wood, oil painted artwork of important men loomed down at you. 

“Just over this way, if you would please.” 

The man leads you to a table on a small front stage. There was only one chair in front of it which Coriolanus pulls out for you. 

The man passes Coriolanus a pen and tells him where to sign. 

He does so quickly and elegantly. 

“And now for you, Madam.” 

Coriolanus passes you the pen but only small writing covered the page and you were hesitant to sign it. 

“What is this?” You look up to the man, who rocked slightly side to side.

“It’s a marriage certificate.” Coriolanus answered for him.

“Marriage?”

Did marriage in the Capitol have the same meaning as marriage in the Districts? What did marriage in the Capitol truly entail and why was Coriolanus so eager to have you sign it?

“Yes. Marriage. Now sign the paper.” His hand curls around yours so you don’t drop the pen.

“Coriolanus-” Your words are cut short when his hand latches itself under your chin and yanks it up, keeping your hand directed at the paper. He forces your hand closer to the line.

“Sign the paper,” he commands. With his hand enclosed around yours, you sign your simple signature next to his cursive.

He releases you once you do.

“If you wanted a wedding then you shouldn’t have run off.” He spat at you. 

Your hands shake uncontrollably and your eyes water but no sympathy is given by either man. 

“You’ve robbed the Capitol of the wedding of the year, truly!” 

“I think the Capitol will survive.” You feel Coriolanus tug you up, and the man follows his lead out the door. 

“I am sure you are eager to get home and rest before election day.” the man spoke. His voice echoed through the large halls. 

“May I just say what an honor it was to marry you two today! You two kids will set a trend. I’ll have young lovers knocking my door down to elope.” 

You sob at his words. 

“Forgive her. The journey was long.” 

“Of course.” 

With only three more steps until the door, the conversation died. 

Coriolanus is quick in pace, and propelled you to move faster than you could in your heels. 

You could hardly see through the tears in your eyes, so you reach blindly until you feel the car underneath your fingers. 

“Thank you, sir.” He shakes hands with the man once again. 

“Anything for our future president.”

Coriolanus opens the door and guides you inside as he says goodbye to the man. 

He allows you to cry until the car pulls up outside of the apartment, at which he tells you to stop. 

He pulls a handkerchief out of breast pocket and wipes the tears from your face as they fall. 

From the outside you could hear the driver collecting the bags from the boot. 

“You need to stop crying. We are home now.” 

You take the handkerchief off him and dap your own tears. He longingly stares out the window. 

He almost bounces in his seat. Eager to get up the stairs and back home. 

Marriage is not the worst thing to have happened to you, nor the worst thing he could do.

It didn’t really mean anything, you told yourself. The Capitol probably wouldn’t even recognize a marriage between a Capitol citizen and District. 

You push his patience as far as it would go before you are able to collect yourself. 

“Ready?” he asks. 

You give a curt nod and he swings the door open. 

The driver passes the bags to a servant dressed in the same white dress as the ones on the train. They take them back into tall metal building. 

It reached the sky in height, and a whole community of District 12 in width. 

Coriolanus knew his way well. With all the wall ways, and feature spaces of the hotel, you were sure you would get lost escaping the building, yet alone the Capitol. 

An elevator you knew as you stood in front of it. They had them in large government buildings that you would sometimes ride as you delivered material from work. 

The elevator door opens and he hits the top floor. 

 As it goes up, you feel your stomach drop. Once you reached the top floor, would you ever go down again? Was your life now confined within this building?

It reaches the penthouse too fast. Your feet refuse to move as the door opens. 

Coriolanus tries a gentle tug but as the doors try to close again, he motions turn into a pull. 

“We’re almost there.” He digs in his pocket for a key. 

His key ring that used to carry so many keys now only held three. 

The sound of an opening door is met with a loud pop of streamers. 

You flinch as the colorful tissues attack you.  

A high pitch scream precedes a weight being thrown at Coriolanus but he catches it easily and with great joy. 

You take the chance to jump back out of the way. 

“Hey,” he laughs.You watch the cousins embrace. You had once promised yourself that letters would be as close as you got to Tigris and now she stood in front of you. 

“Coryo! You’re finally home,” she captures his face in a loving embrace and he smiles back. 

A crooning sound overtakes the moment and an old women takes the spot of Tigris. 

“My boy. Future president of Panem.” 

He leans down and kisses her on the cheek. She turns her head for him to do so, coming eye to eye with you. 

She turns to you as Coriolanus releases her. 

“Don’t just stand there, child. Come forward, let me take a look at you.”

 Grandma’am eyes you, causing you to curl further into yourself. 

Coriolanus clears his throat and places his hand on your lower back to move you forward. 

“May I introduce Mrs. Snow.”

“Mrs. Snow! Oh Coryo!” Tigris gasps, “How could you?” 

“We had too. The media would never have left us alone if they knew. But-” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small jewelry box, “We saved the most important part for you: the rings.”

He takes a ring out of the box. Your hand shakes but he holds it steady as he slides the ring on. 

Fifty small rectangular diamonds cover a gold band. It was shiny and heavy on your finger. 

Tigris gasps upon seeing it but you have no reaction. 

He then passes you a gold band and holds his hand out to you. 

You push the ring on his finger quickly. 

It was enough for Tigris who claps and jumps. 

She wraps her arms around your neck while her grandmother lifts your hand up to inspect the ring. 

As they give you space, Coriolanus takes it, bringing you back into his arms. 

“I want to hear everything!” Tigris says.

She walks to the living room table and takes a bottle of champagne out of a bucket of ice.

It could have been the lack of food and water over the past three days. It could have been the pure overwhelming feeling of it all. But as the cork of the champagne is opened, your knees give way and you collapse unconscious. 

Coriolanus manages to catch you and you feel his hard arm under your head. 

You hear him call out to you before the darkness fades your vision. 

—----------

You wake at midnight in a fright. 

You knew you were in a bed but everything was pitch black. 

Was everything a dream? Was Edmund alive and just below you?

The answer was no. Coriolanus woke with your fast movements and worked quickly to pull you into his arms. 

“Hey, you’re alright. You’re alright.” 

You struggle against him in a panic. 

“You’re alright. You’re safe,” he consoles. 

“No, no, I’m not.” You feel his face under your fingertips and push against him. 

He retaliates by capturing both your wrists in his hand, pulling them down. 

“Stop it. Calm down now. You’re alright.” 

His weight tugs on your wrists as he leans back to flick on the bedside lamp. It cast a yellow light in which you could see him clearly. 

He had gone to sleep in only his underwear again. His old Commander ways were still clawing on. 

You register that you had been re-dressed into cotton pants and a large top.

“Please, Coriolanus. Let me go. I haven’t done anything,” you cry. 

He pulled you closer by your wrists so your body was leaning against his. 

"Please, I am sorry,” your tears soak his bare chest but he doesn’t move, “I am so sorry.”

He moves his arms around you so you were cradled but it did nothing to help soothe you. 

“No, no, please,” you struggle but his hold was tight. “I never did anything wrong.” 

You tried so hard to be good. Now you were being punished for it. 

“I know. I know that,” he insisted, bringing you closer. 

“It’s okay. Just go back to sleep.” 

You can’t. The image of Edmund swinging in the wind haunted you. 

“Oh Edmund,” you cried. It wasn’t his fault. He was only trying to protect you. 

Coriolanus made no comment given your state. 

“It’s alright. Everything is alright,” he repeats. He hums softly, a song that his mother used to sing when he was a child. He was surprised he still remembered it, or most of it at least. 

He used to hum it during his school years when academic pressure hindered his sleep. 

It rose his anxiety levels just from the association with those years, but it worked to settle you so he continued. 

Your mother used to hum you to sleep as well. When you had bad dreams, she would sit on your bed and run her fingers through your hair as she hummed. 

It was easier to pretend that you were only a child back in your bed with your mother next to you, protecting you from all the horrors of the world. 

—--------------

 The next morning you woke as Coriolanus finished dressing for the day. 

Your movement gains his attention, he finishes putting on his coat and comes to sit next to you on the bed. 

“Hey, how’d you sleep?”. 

He runs a warm hand over your face. You sit up to brush him off. 

“I’ve told Tigris and grandma’am to leave you alone today so you can rest.”

Your stomach drops at the thought of being isolated again. You couldn’t be left alone with your thoughts today. 

Already it’s racing with guilt. 

You latch onto his arm. 

“No. Coriolanus please, don’t lock me in here.” 

He looks to weigh up his options before deciding.  

“I won’t. But you need to show me that you can behave. I won’t have you upsetting Tigris or Grandma’am.

“I won’t,” you promise. 

“They don’t need to know the full extent of us. Only that we are happy to be here together.”

“Ok, Coriolanus.” 

You shove the thick blanket off and swing your body off the bed. 

You follow Coriolanus to the kitchen table where Tigre’s and grandma’am sat eating breakfast. 

Tigre’s rises as you enter into the room. She keeps her distance so not to overwhelm you. 

“Y/N, how are you feeling?” She asks. 

“Much better now. Thank you. I am sorry if I offended you yesterday. I wasn't feeling well.” 

“No! Of course not.” Tigris exclaims, “God, you’ve been through so much. I couldn’t even imagine how you are feeling right now.”

Your eyes flick to her. Coriolanus had made it seem like her and Grandma’am knew nothing of the truth, but could she know at least part of it?

“You must have been so frightened when those rebels took you to the mountains,” Grandma’am commented between a scone. 

Your eyes shoot at Coriolanus, who was already looking at you, silently telling you to be quiet.  

A twisted truth is as good as the truth itself in his books. 

“Yes, I was. Everyday. But I knew Coriolanus was coming.”

“Our Coriolanus isn’t scared of coward rebels!” Grandma’am exclaims. 

Coriolanus was quick to change the subject at the first sound of silence, “Tigris, she hasn’t had breakfast yet.

The breakfast table is near silent as everyone ate. 

It was a relief when Coriolanus kissed you goodbye. The company of Tigres was much easier to keep. 

—-----‘

Coriolanus was busy now that he was home. Interviews and meetings took most of his time now that the elections were coming up. 

You saw little of Grandma’am, but Tigris almost always was in the apartment. 

She tried to be kind to you. She often went out of her way to check on you. But you avoided her. Staying in the room you were placed in. If you said the wrong thing to her, it was sure to make its way back to Coriolanus, and your family was to pay for it. 

Your days before Coriolanus returned home were filled by looking out the window, or preparing an item of clothing for Coriolanus. He always wanted to have at least one thing on that you had some part in preparing. 

He tore off his buttons so you could sew them back on, you shined brand new shoes that didn’t need it, ironed shirts that had already been ironed for him. 

You didn’t argue when he asked you to do it. 

If you performed an action in the way he wanted, he would give you updates on your family. 

From what you gathered, they were fed and allowed an hour outside together. 

 The day of the election came fast. 

It felt as if it happened overnight, but it had been three days since your arrival in the Capitol. 

The election was called at eight o'clock which meant the entire day was filled with buzz.  People came in and out all day. Coriolanus spent the entire day on the phone, or in between breaks talking to the people in the room.

You sat in his chair as he worked standing. You watched the people as they came in and out. They looked different from people back home. 

They all had something unusual about them. Funny color hair, a piercing that stuck out of their face. One thing they all had in common was their high quality clothing. Nothing like the sacks District clothes are made out of. 

Grandma’am and Tigris had gone out to prepare themselves for the election. It was nearly night but they had been gone since the morning.

Coriolanus was in the middle of getting a haircut when two females came up to you and requested that you followed them. 

Coriolanus told you to do so from where he sat. You didn’t ask why as you followed them to the bedroom. 

With the door shut, they tell you to shower and come back so they can dress you for the election. 

The news causes you to tense. You were not ready to face the Capitol. 

But with no choice, you take a shower and return for them to do their work. 

They only talk to each other as they work. 

They dress you in a white strapless gown that split up the side to show more white sparkly tulle, and white heels that were shorter and easier to walk in than the pink heels that you had at the train station. 

They gossip about elite members of the Capital. Who was cheating on who. Who wore what. 

One burns you with a hot iron as she curls your hair because she leans forward to laugh. No apology is given as she continues to talk. She pins small white roses throughout your hair. The pins scrape your head as they enter your hair but you make no complaint. 

You were grateful when they finished dressing you. As soon as they begin to pack up, you exit the room without a goodbye.

You run into Coriolanus, still with his team in the living room. He stood in front of a tall mirror as you had taken the main bedroom. 

He matched you in white. Admittedly, he looked gorgeous in a double-breasted suit with his white shirt peeking out from it. The first few first buttons were undone and a silver chain with your ring hung around his neck. 

He was fixing a white rose to his chest pocket when his eyes caught you in the mirror behind him. 

“We are finished here,” he tells the room, who pack up immediately. 

He looked nervous, and you supposed he should be. All his life had been leading up to this moment. 

He talks low to you so the others don’t hear as they leave, almost whispering in your ear. 

“Just a few more hours and you’ll be looking at the President of Panam.” 

Your hands shook, and you flexed them to try and shake the nerves out. 

Coriolanus, always hyper-aware, noticed, capturing your hands and bringing them up to his face to kiss. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one shaking?” he jokes. 

“I don’t want to go. You don’t need me there.” 

“I do need you there.” He releases you, annoyed at your resistance. 

You sit down on the couch as the people make their way to the door. 

“Do I need to remind you that your performance tonight is crucial to your family's survival?” 

“No,” you say softly, “That’s never left my mind.” 

He crouches down in front of you, resting his hands on your waist. 

 “Good. Now people know you are District, but you’re not to mention it. If anyone mentions it to you, you tell me straight away.” He flicks your chin up so you are looking at him and not at your lap. “Hey, straight away.”

You nod your head in understanding. You had no plan to talk freely with any of the Capitol brood anyway.

“As first lady of Panem, you’ll be required to attend performances like these from time to time. I need to know I can trust you not to embarrass me when you do.”

You nod your head once again, “You can.” 

You remember Ravenstill’s wife. All she did was smile and sit pretty. You could do the same, regardless of the pain you felt. 

He raises himself slightly to press his lips against yours before rising entirely. 

“The car is waiting down stairs.” You rise with him and he takes your hand in his through the walk. 

The car ride is silent. Coriolanus began to practice his speech again as you stared out the window. 

The Capitol seems quieter than usual. No car buzzed around as you drove. One or two passed but they seemed to be in their own rush. Not a person roamed the street.

All of the Capitol held their breath as they waited for their new President. 

The car stops in front of a huge fountain surrounded by a large field. It was out of place amongst the sky scrapers. It was filled with people, all wearing peculiar colorful clothing. Nearly all of them wore a white rose upon their chest.

They surrounded a large stage lit up with bright lights.

Rows of chairs were lined across the back of the stage.  People hovered around them, all wearing white like you. They greet Coriolanus as he walks through. Some of them even greet you, but you hate them all the same.

You see his grandmother and cousin sitting directly behind the podium. He seems to be trying to make a beeline to them, but people keep interrupting them.

He keeps his temper, politely dismissing them as he wades through the crowd. 

His grandmother jumps up to kiss him. He uses his spare hand to bring her in close.

“President Snow, we salute you,” she says sincerely.

“I’ve not won anything yet, Grandma’am,” but his smirk told that he knew he was about to.

Grandma’am wore a hat of white roses but a simple white dress suit and pearls.

Tigris rose as well to hug her cousin now her grandmother was out of the way. Her strapless white dress hugged her curves right down to her ankles where the dress dissolved into white tulle. You could see the outline of white roses on her dress too. Her makeup was centered around the pale pink eyeshadow that was blown out towards her temple.

Finishing with Coriolanus, Tigris turns and hugs you, but you couldn’t manage it back.

Coriolanus leans down to whisper in your ear, “All you have to do is sit down next to Tigris and smile. Can you do that?”

Your families life depended on it, so you smile back at him to show that you could.

The Panem national anthem began to play bringing a hush over the audience as they all go back to stand in front of their seat and sing.

Coriolanus stood next to you, still holding your hand as he sung. The camera flashed in your face and you decide it was better to sing along.

The song finishes and the large screen behind you switches to a man with a microphone on one side and another man in a field similar to Coriolanus. You assumed the latter was his political opponent.

It was the cue for the people on stage to take a seat. You take yours next to Tigris and Coriolanus walks up to the podium.

Smaller screens are prompted up along the front of the stage so that no one on the stage was facing backwards.

You watch as the man with the microphone gives his introduction, introducing himself as Lucky Flickerman before the screen flashes to Coriolanus, and then cuts to Augustus.

You eye the open field. The guards were all focused to the front. There were a few people off the side but they looked mostly like stylists and operation managers. They would hardly put up a fight for you.

You could make it. At least on to the street. But how would you make it back home? How would you free your family? How could you live with yourself in District 12 without Edmund?

Tigress reaches out and entangles your hand with her in comfort. It brings you back to the election.

Lucky performs a few magic tricks as the final votes are counted.

“Now for the moment we have all been waiting for.'' An assistant runs up and places an envelope into Lucky’s hand.

“The results are in people! Who has Panem chosen to be our new leader? The savvy businessman or the fearless Commander? Let’s find out!”

Not a word was spoken as the man opened the envelope. It must have been the result he wanted, for he broke out into a grin and began to shake his head.

“Just as I predicted. Ladies and gentleman, the new President of Panem: Coriolanus Snow!”

The crowd erupts in cheering around you. Loud popping sounds precedes colorful confetti dropping from mounted cannons. Tigris lets go of your hand to clutch Coriolanus.

She sprang up from her seat and captured his head between her arms. His grandmother is next up to crowd him. He brushed off people quickly, he had a speech to make.

You wonder if you should get up but there were already too many people around him. You would only be in the way.

He makes his way to you, bending down to place a kiss on your cheek before turning back to shake hands with those around him.

The win came as no surprise to him but he wore a large smile, and seemed almost giddy at the news.

He turns back to the podium and people quieten as he gives his speech. You heard him mutter it a million times. You could almost recite it for him.

“Today is a new day for Panem,” it began.

You eye your freedom just down the stairs but remain seated and smiling.

You’re not sure how long Coriolanus spoke for, but the applause and cheering told you he had stopped.

Before you knew it he was standing in front of you with an outstretched hand. You take it and he stops to kiss his family, giving them instructions as to where they should now go before he leads you down the steps and into the crowd.

You shrink back as they gather around him. His grasp hurt. Your bones in your hand felt as if they were about to pop out of place. But it was too easy to get lost in the crowd, so he wouldn’t loosen it.

Too many voices overlapped to hear any single one. A few pats on your shoulder was all the attention you received while Coriolanus was drowning in a sea of people.

You couldn’t make out his words over the people and the music. You let yourself be overtaken with the senses.

You smiled and nodded at people as you passed them. It was Coriolanus’ big night, you couldn’t even fathom the punishment if you were to make a mistake tonight.

You stay close to him, just over his shoulder.

He looks back to check on you one or two times but never opens his mouth.

Confetti had been hidden in his curls. You focused on counting the pieces.

The whirl-pool of people seemed to never end. As soon as one person faded another took their place.

It must have been half an hour before Coriolanus made the small distance to the apartment block.

It was 30 stories with a roof top bar that was pumping with lights and music.

The rest of the people would mingle down below with food and drinks. Huddling around the colorful glass standing tables.

You reach the entrance, guarded by two peacekeepers, and Coriolanus leads you in front of him as he presses the button for the elevator.

It was quick to come and Coriolanus pushed your hips to make you move inside.

He lets go of you as you enter and gives a wave to his fans as the door closes.

The elevator is dead quiet. Only the faint sound of pumping music could be heard.

You think he is too wrapped up in his victory to pay you any mind now you were out of sight of the public.

You were relieved almost to be out from under his attention. But he moves quick to push you up against the wall and smash his lips onto yours.

His hands steady your face as he assaults your lips.

He leaves you out of breath and grins at you widely for it.

The door dings open, and he pulls back from you. Only taking a loose grip of your hand.

Another cheer for the President was heard over the music as he steps out.

You look around the room at all the people in white. Supporters of a maniac.

Tigris and Grandma’am were offered a lounge chair as they ate and drank.

“Look,” he spoke to you, taking a green drink off a tray offered to him, “The apple pie drink you wanted. I requested it especially for you.”

He passed you the drink as a man approached him.

You managed to get a “thank you” out before the stranger began to talk.

Coriolanus paid you no more mind the rest of the night. He spoke and joked freely with the party goers while stringing you along behind him.

A few spoke to you about mundane things but Coriolanus was quick to end any longer talk then a few seconds.

The drink did taste like apple pie. A low rate apple pie. You could bake one much better. But for a drink it was fine. You ended up drinking three before Coriolanus snatched the fourth and placed it on a nearby table.

Tigres caught your eye a couple of times. You knew she was making sure you were alright. She was kind, and so ‘un-Capitol’.

Grandma’am was more true to her up-bringing. She insisted on teaching you the ways of the Capitol, and training you out of your ‘District ways’.

“It'll be our secret,” she told you over breakfast this morning, “I’ll defend you against the District rumors.”

In a way you supposed it was sweet of her. Although her intentions could very well be for Coriolanus' benefit rather than yours.

The later it got, the quieter it got.

People began disappearing. Others passed out on sofas and lounges.

Coriolanus' energy never seemed to drain, but Tigris’ and Grandma’am’s did.

Tigris had come over and interrupted Coriolanus' conversation. She offered to take you home with her and Grandma’am but Coriolanus was resistant.

“She’s fine, Tigris. I’ll bring her home with me.”

If you had been on equal standing with Coriolanus, you would have protested and just left but you were mud under his shoe, so you smiled at Tigris and told her you would see her in the morning.

Tigris kissed both of you goodbye. You hold on to her for too long. You could tell from the way Coriolanus squeezed your hand.

The party continued long after she had gone.

Your legs hurt from standing in the heels and your dress was too tight to have eaten all you did over the course of the night.

Coriolanus could sense that you were nearing the end of what you could take, so he began his final lap of victory around the room.

You were beyond grateful when he ushered you into the car.

You sighed as you sunk down into the plush leather seats, taking off your heels instantly.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said as the car entered the main road which had returned to its normal state of business even late at night, “You were very well behaved.”

“Congratulations on your win,” you return.

“Snow always lands on top,” he talks softly as he gazes out to the city.

The car rolls through the city smoothly. Coriolanus watches it pass from the window.

You feel half-asleep resting your head back on the seat.

You feel him move you down to a lying position and your eyes shoot wide open. His fingers brush your skin as he slides the skirt of your dress up.

“What are you doing?” You catch his hands and he lowers his head.

He hushes you as he slides your panties off your hips, “All the drivers talk.”

Trapped in a car in a city that kills your people for entertainment, you lay back and don’t make a sound.

You clutch the back of the seat in a tight hold as Coriolanus begins.

Edmund was barely cold in the ground and here you were, being eaten out by the man who killed him.

You try not to focus on it as Coriolanus' lips and tongue work. It pulls a moan from you and Coriolanus hits your thigh.

You press your tongue between your teeth to avoid making noise. A hand makes its way into Coriolanus’ curls and tugging on them gives you a sense of satisfaction.

It encourages him however and his movements become more targeted and passionate.

The car pulls to the curb in front of his house by the time you had made a mess in the backseat.

You lay back with your legs spread as you come down from your high.

A chill shoots through you as the door is opened by the driver but Coriolanus pulls it closed before he could see the scene.

You get up despite not being ready too. Coriolanus grabs your shoes and pockets your panties, taking your hand when its free.

You both emerge from the car as if nothing had happened.

It was late and cold. You thank the driver as you pass him.

The building was huge. Nearly all the floor was covered in titles and your feet made a sound against them.

You try to slow your walk to quite the sound, but Coriolanus was eager to get up to the apartment.

He storms across the lobby, and courtyard before reaching the steps that lead to the elevator.

He presses the button too many times. It doesn’t make it come any faster.

The house is dark and silent as you enter. The women went to bed hours ago, and you were hopping to follow suit.

Coriolanus leads you to his bedroom which is large and not yet decorated.

You pull free from him as you enter. Immediately you tear all the pins and roses from your hair.

You hear Coriolanus drop your shoes.

He clears his throat to gain your attention.

“Your brother and mother have been freed from the compound.”

Your fingers freeze in your hair. It felt as if he had lifted a great weight off your chest. You turn to him in gratitude.

“Thank you, Coriolanus.”

He smiles down at you before stooping down to your height and placing a firm kiss to your lips.

You push back against his shoulders after the kiss continues past a normal amount of time.

He pushes back, bracing you against the bed with him on top of you.

His lips turn to your neck as he unzips the back of your dress.

“Coriolanus, please don’t,” you beg.

He slides the dress’s straps off your shoulder as he responds, “Please, just give this to me. Don’t make me take it.’’

The dress is taken off you, and Coriolanus strips it off with kisses.

Only when a kiss is placed on your hip do you begin to struggle.

This man had tormented you for months. Starved you. Robbed you. Killed the man you loved. You would give him nothing freely.

You kick and push him away, but he is stronger.

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay.” He pulls you upward by your wrists to the pillows.

“No! Get off of me!”

“Y/N, please. Please,” he pleads.

You continue to fight but he persists.

 “Please, don’t make me do this.”

“No. No. Edmund! Mum!”

“Shut up,” it was less of a command and more of a plea, “Please, shut up.” 

You do. What would your resistance gain you? A few more seconds until the inevitable. 

His grip loosens as you are still beneath him. 

With only a weak hold of your wrists, he pulls off his clothes. You can hear the movement but can’t force your eyes to open. 

Tears leak down your cheeks but you refrain from making a sound. 

“It’s alright. I’ll take care of you.” 

He lines himself up and pushes in with ease. The pain was subsided due to your wetness from the car ride but the first slow thrusts felt slightly painful and uncomfortable. 

You whine slightly as you adjust to the intrusion. You fight to release your wrists from his hold, you wanted to push back on his shoulders, feeling as if he was too deep. 

“It’ll only hurt for a little bit,” he promised, continuing his slow movements. 

He kisses you as you let out another whine. 

Soon the pain did stop, and an enjoyable sensation began to form. 

Coriolanus tried his best to remain slow, but as he got lost in his own lust, he forgot about your pain. 

It felt as if he was bruising you. But his mouth never left yours so you couldn’t voice a complaint.

Your hips jerk away from him, trying to ease the pressure but his spare hand stills your hip, making you take the full brunt of what he wanted to give you. 

He pulls his head back from yours and groans.

“Ah,” he grunts. 

“Coriolanus-” you had wanted to ask him to slow down but you feel yourself tightening around him as you come. 

His hand moves from your wrists and intertwines with your hand. He presses his weight down as he picks up his pace to chase his own high. 

“Wait, wait!” you were through. Every second after was too much. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he grunts. 

You groan from the pressure as he continues. 

“Almost there, darling.” 

His last few thrusts are hard but the pressure turns into a warm pool between your legs. 

Coriolanus is still as he rests his forehead upon your shoulder. You don’t move either, unsure of what to do. 

A few moments later and he raises his head, repositioning himself so his arms cage around your head. 

 He drags a finger down the bridge of your nose and it runs off your cheek like a tear. 

“Welcome to the Capitol, Mrs. Snow.

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study session // akaashi keiji

tw ⇢ mutual pining, making out, soft sex, nipple play, fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, getting caught(?), bokuto being bokuto

wc ⇢ 5.9k

The deadbolt thunked softly as Akaashi twisted his key, shoulders sagging with fatigue after another marathon day of editing. He toed off his loafers, inhaling the familiar blend of books and bergamot that enveloped the apartment he shared with his roommate - you, Bokuto's younger sister.

A muffled sniffle drifted from down the hall, immediately snapping Akaashi's focus into sharp awareness. Frowning slightly, he followed the sound toward your bedroom. The door was ajar, spilling a thin blade of light across the hardwood.

Akaashi hesitated with his knuckles hovering outside the door frame, another watery hiccup reaching his ears. Quietly, he rapped his knuckles against the wood.

"Y/N, are you alright?" he called out gently.

A tremulous inhale, then your voice filtered through, think and wavering. "A-Akaashi? Y-Yeah, I'm...I'm okay."

But the attempt at false bravery was betrayed by the slight quaver marring your tone. Akaashi's brow furrowed in sincere concern, fingers already grasping the door handle.

"May I come in?"

A pause, then a resigned sigh. "Okay..."

He pushed the door open slowly to find you hunched over your desk, shoulders trembling and face streaked with tears. Textbooks and notepads were strewn haphazardly, evidence of the chaotic state of your studies. Akaashi felt a pang in his chest at the rare sight of your usual sunny disposition so distraught and overwhelmed.

"Oh Y/N..." He crossed the room in three strides, circling around to crouch beside you. "What's wrong? Talk to me."

You swiped the sleeve of your sweatshirt uselessly across your damp cheeks, exhaling a ragged breath. "It's just...there's so much material to review for midterms and I'm f-falling behind. I've been studying nonstop but nothing is sticking and I'm so stressed out..."

The dam of frustration you'd been holding back finally burst as your voice hitched dangerously on those last words. Akaashi watched, utterly helpless, as you dissolved into fresh sobs muffled behind your palms.

For a moment, he wavered, unsure of the proper decorum to provide comfort without overstepping boundaries. But the sight of your dejected hunched form overwhelmed any hesitation. Tenderly, he reached out to pull you into his embrace, tucking your face into the reassuring warmth of his chest.

You immediately melted against him, tremors wracking your frame as the tears soaked through the soft cotton of his dress shirt. Akaashi just held you close, cheek pillowed atop your crown as he murmured soothing reassurances.

"It's okay, just breathe...you've got this..."

In that dimly-lit sanctuary of your bedroom, he allowed himself to admit the truth simmering beneath his concern - the soft cadence of your breath fanning across his collarbone, the pliant weight of you cradled against his chest...it all felt so intrinsically right. As if you belonged sheltered in his arms.

The realization should have startled Akaashi more than it did. Yet, somehow his heart had already accepted the quiet inevitability of the tenderness blooming between you two over years of being roommates.

Eventually, your hitched breathing began to even out, arms tentatively circling his waist as you reigned in your spiked emotions. When at last you pulled back, Akaashi was gutted by your reddened eyes and wan expression - outer signs of the immense strain you were enduring.

"God, I'm so sorry..." you mumbled, avoiding his gaze self-consciously. "You must think I'm an over-emotional wreck."

"Not at all," he replied, cupping your cheek with one palm to tilt your face back toward him. "You've been pushing yourself incredibly hard. It's only natural the stress would eventually need an outlet."

Akaashi held your wavering stare, silently willing you to grasp his understanding, his concern, the unacknowledged tenderness reflecting behind his carefully composed exterior. Finally, you managed a watery semblance of your usual vibrant smile - a flicker of your indomitable spirit that never failed to stir his heart.

"Thank you, Akaashi. I don't know what I'd do without your steadying presence when I'm a mess like this."

"Anytime," he murmured, the words carrying more weight than he perhaps intended. Clearing his throat, he sat back on his heels. "Now...why don't you take a short break, splash some water on your face? Then come find me in the living room. I'll help you go over whatever topics are tripping you up."

Your eyes widened fractionally at his offer of studying together, then crinkled with renewed determination and gratitude. "Really? You don't mind? God, that would be incredible..."

"Of course not. We'll tackle this together." Akaashi rose fluidly to his feet. "I'll put on a pot of tea for us."

As he retreated into the hallway, he couldn't deny the faint fluttering warmth that blossomed in his chest. Though he assisted you frequently with your coursework, there was an unusual anticipation thrumming beneath his skin now. Perhaps amplified by those tender, unfurling moments of connection in your bedroom.

He allowed himself a fleeting smile, letting the cozy atmosphere of your shared apartment enfold him as he busied himself preparing the tea tray. Yes, something had definitively shifted between you two tonight. And Akaashi found himself unexpectedly eager to embrace whatever this newintimacy ushered in.

The gentle rattling of ceramic cups and quiet brewing of the electric kettle provided a soothing soundtrack as Akaashi arranged the tea tray. He inhaled the grounding aroma of bergamot and lemon, mentally preparing himself to tackle your studies with the same care he devoted to his editorial work.

Just as he finished setting out the teacups, you padded into the living room - face scrubbed clean and radiant smile tentatively resurfacing. Akaashi felt his chest constrict at how achingly tender and vulnerable you appeared, swathed in an over-sized university hoodie. He had to resist the sudden impulse to pull you back into his arms.

"Hey, all set whenever you are," you murmured, rubbing the dampness from your cheeks. You settled cross-legged on the floor, back resting against the sofa as you gathered your notes and textbooks onto the coffee table.

Akaashi poured the fragrant tea, sliding one steaming cup towards you before joining on the floor opposite. You offered him a grateful look over the rim as you sipped carefully, face visibly relaxing as the warmth seeped into you.

"Okay," he prompted in that low, soft timbre of his. "Where should we start?"

You worried your bottom lip - an endearing quirk he'd noticed you did when concentrating hard. "Umm...organic chemistry has been really kicking my ass lately. If we could go over some of the molecular structure concepts?"

Nodding, Akaashi reached for your notebook, allowing your shoulders to brush in the process. A shiver rippled through you that had nothing to do with the temperature. He pretended not to notice, keeping his focus trained on the page as he scanned your scattered notations with a practiced editorial eye.

"I can see where you're getting tripped up on the hybridization models..." he mused, fingers unconsciously smoothing the rumpled pages with a delicate touch.

With that same deft cadence he used to break down complex manga narratives and storyboards, Akaashi began illuminating the organic chemistry topics that were giving you trouble. You quickly became absorbed in his low, authoritative explanations - leaning incrementally closer until your knees knocked together every time you shifted position.

Akaashi's mouth went dry whenever your raptured gaze lifted to his, those expressive eyes drinking in each new nuance he highlighted. He couldn't resist the temptation to reach out, large palms engulfing your smaller hands to guide them through the molecular diagram you were struggling with.

You seemed to shudder bodily at the contact, but didn't pull away. If anything, you gravitated infinitesimally nearer to his orbit until the earthy sandalwood scent of his cologne enveloped you completely.

For his part, Akaashi felt utterly transfixed dissecting the intricacies of organic chemistry with you. Long minutes blurred into hours, marked only by the occasional rasp of your pencil scratching out new understandings and quiet stretch of reaching for your rapidly cooling tea.

A heady sort of intimacy had descended over the hushed apartment - suspended in a gossamer pocket of time where only the two of you existed. Even when a shrill trill from your phone interrupted, shattering the weighted quiet, neither of you startled apart.

"Shit, it's Kou checking in..." you murmured vaguely, swiping to silence the incessant buzzing without sparing the screen a glance.

A tiny furrow appeared between Akaashi's brows, unable to fully mask the fleeting pang of disappointment. Of course Bokuto would want to catch up with his baby sister. He tamped down whatever misguided sentiments had begun flickering to life and refocused on the present lesson.

A new cadence emerged over the ensuing weeks - you and Akaashi settling into a ritual of late-night cram sessions in the living room after he returned from the office. What had begun as his kind offer of a studious assist gradually deepened into something richer, more intimate. Textbooks became the pretense, while conversations about Akaashi's editorial work for up-and-coming mangaka and your academic ambitions flowed more organically.

He savored those hushed interludes, coveting each fresh glimpse into your spirit and psyche that you shyly unveiled over mugs of bergamot tea and pages. You seemed to come alive at night, unfurling from your usual subdued daytime presence into an incandescent force as radiant as your legendary brother.

On nights when Bokuto himself burst into the apartment unannounced for a visit, his raucous presence felt strangely...diminishing. Like an intrusion upon the rarefied bubble of connection you and Akaashi had begun delicately cultivating, no matter how inadvertent.

"Hey hey hey!!!" The boisterous owl'd screech, sweeping his baby sister up in his signature crushing embrace much to her squealing protests. "There're my two favorite roomies!!"

For the span of those chaotic visits, you and Akaashi became spectators in your own apartment - observing from the periphery as Bokuto dominated the space with his overwhelming charm and delirious anecdotes. Invariably, you would share a look with Akaashi from across the room - shining with a sort of knowing affection and silent promise to reconvene your quieter interlude once the whirlwind subsided.

Bokuto remained blissfully oblivious to the undercurrent shifting between you, of course. But with each passing day, each fitful study session that bled into the wee hours, Akaashi felt himself falling deeper under the spell of your steady warmth and lighthearted presence.

The selfish part of him began hoarding those sacrosanct one-on-one moments, savoring the intimacy of being the one to share in your blossoming self-discoveries, your academic passions, all crowned by the coquettish smiles and sparkling glances you bestowed upon him alone.

He had become addicted to basking in the rosy glow of your affection on sleepy afternoons when you'd emerge from your bedroom after sleeping late, tousled hair haloing your face. Akaashi routinely lost his train of thought watching you shuffle around the apartment preparing tea and toast, rumpled and soft and utterly resplendent in his eyes.

It was during those tranquil respites between lessons that the reality of his deepening feelings became unavoidable, even to Akaashi's own practiced aloofness. You had worked your way under his skin, into his veins, until his every waking moment centered upon your orbit. With each night that blurred into dawning tenderness, he felt himself teetering perilously towards falling utterly, hopelessly in love.

The soft patter of rain against the windowpanes provided a soothing ambient soundtrack as you pored over your psychology textbook. Akaashi sat beside you on the couch, leg brushing yours as he leaned in to examine the passage you were struggling to grasp.

"So the key difference between the Psychoanalytic and Behaviorist models is..." His low, modulated timbre washed over you as he began breaking down the nuances.

You bit your lip, nodding along while trying to concentrate despite the incredible proximity of his body heat and intoxicating sandalwood cologne. Akaashi's attentive gaze flickered between you and the text, entirely focused on elucidating the intricate psychological concepts until comprehension finally sparked behind your eyes.

"Ohhh, I think I'm getting it now..." you murmured, scribbling a few shorthand notes in the margin. "The Psychoanalytic looks at the deeper underlying motivations like Freudian psyche stuff, whereas Behaviorist is all about external conditioning and reinforcement?"

Akaashi's lips curved into a pleased smile - warm approval crinkling the corners of his steel-grey eyes. "Exactly. You've got a keen understanding."

You basked in the subtle praise, preening slightly under his undivided attention. An unexpected crack of thunder punctuated the moment, making you jump. Akaashi steadied you with a light touch on your shoulder, fingers lingering perhaps a beat too long.

"Perhaps we should take a break?" he suggested, eyes crinkling fondly at your startled reaction. "My brain could use a reprieve from the academic intensity."

"Oh? Did you have something else in mind?" You arched a brow teasingly.

The longer you pursued your studies together during these late-night sessions, the more your dynamic had evolved beyond a simple student-mentor rapport. An undercurrent of flirtatious energy had begun simmering between you, acknowledged yet never overtly addressed.

Akaashi hummed, reaching over to snag the TV remote from the end table. "I happened to download a few of the films from that Ghibli retrospective you mentioned wanting to see..."

Your face lit up at the casual reminder of an offhand comment you'd made ages ago - pleasantly surprised that he had taken note.

"Seriously? God, you're the best study-buddy ever!" You immediately shifted onto the floor, cozying into the plush area rug as Akaashi cued up the first animated film.

He chuckled - a low rumbling rasp that did funny things to your equilibrium these days. "At the rate we're accruing all-nighters, calling me a 'study-buddy' is practically an insult to my scholarly dedication."

"Oh, I'm sorry - should I call you Keeeiii-jiiiii Sensei instead?" you quipped with a theatrical bat of your lashes.

His only response was an exaggerated roll of eyes as he settled in beside you, near enough for your shoulders to brush with each intake of breath. The movie flickered to life, casting the living room in bursts of jewel-toned light and shadow.

Though you tried valiantly to remain attentive and absorb the artistry of the acclaimed anime, you gradually became ensnared by heavy lidded drowsiness as the opening scenes played out. Something about the ambient patter of rain, the easy cadence of Akaashi's breathing beside you, it all lulled you into a deeply contented state far too cozy to resist.

At some point, you must have drifted off entirely because you startled back to awareness cradled in Akaashi's arms as he carried you down the hallway to your bedroom. You instinctively nuzzled against the solid plane of his chest, relishing the sandalwood cologne and clean linen scent enveloping you both.

Akaashi went very still for a suspended moment, the muscles in his arms tensing almost imperceptibly around you. His jaw worked briefly before he spoke in a hushed murmur pitched low enough not to disturb the night quiet.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to wake you," he rumbled, negotiating the last few steps into your bedroom with that same liquid grace he possessed. "You looked so peaceful, I wanted to get you somewhere more comfortable to sleep."

You peeled open one heavy-lidded eye, reflexively cataloging how the silvery moonlight gilded the elegant planes of his face, casting his stormy irises in softer grays. Even sleep-addled, you recognized the thrilling intimacy of being gathered against Akaashi's solidly muscular frame like a lover's embrace.

The staccato pounding of raindrops against the windows intensified into a deafening roar as the storm system raged outside. You shivered involuntarily, rubbing your hands along your arms despite being cocooned in one of Akaashi's worn university hoodies that smelled intoxicatingly of sandalwood and clove.

A massive crack of thunder boomed directly overhead, causing you to flinch violently. Unconsciously, you scooted infinitesimally closer to where Akaashi sat beside you on the floor - back against the couch as you pored over notes and textbooks strewn across the coffee table.

He paused, keen eyes flickering over to study your tense form briefly before returning his focus to the biochem flashcards you were meant to be reviewing. A few beats of weighted silence passed, punctuated only by the howling winds.

Then, with a blinding flash, every lamp and light fixture extinguished - plunging the apartment into absolute inky darkness.

You couldn't help the tiny whimper that scraped up your throat as you froze, pulse thundering wildly in your ears. From the void beside you came the rustle of movement, callused fingers tenderly circling your wrist.

"Hey...you're alright," Akaashi's deep timbre washed over you, resonant and reassuring even without being able to see his features. "Just a power outage from the storm. We have candles and battery lamps, don't worry."

You bobbed your head numbly, unconsciously leaning into the warmth and solidness of his presence beside you. Akaashi seemed to register the slight tremors rippling through you because he shifted nearer until your thighs were flush, cocooning you in his orbit.

"Give me a moment to find the emergency lights," he murmured, thick lashes brushing your knuckles fleetingly before he retreated.

You heaved a shuddering breath, internally willing your racing heart to slow. The pounding rain and occasional crackling bursts of thunder sounded more ominous in the yawning darkness, sending fresh prickles skittering down your spine.

Just when you felt on the precipice of panicking, Akaashi's low tenor carried over from behind the sectional.

"Got it."

Momentarily, a warm golden glow began emanating from the kitchen as he lit an array of utility candles and lanterns. He reappeared bearing several flickering flames and a fleece blanket tucked under his arm.

You shakily exhaled in profound relief at the sight of him - your safe harbor. Without preamble, Akaashi settled right beside you on the floor, draping the heavy fleece comforter over both of your laps before tucking you against his side.

"Better?" he murmured gently.

You could only nod, nuzzling deeper into the solid warmth of him while the flickering candle flames cast his striking features in dancing shadows and light. Akaashi maneuvered his long limbs until you were nestled into his embrace, his chin grazing the crown of your head.

Minutes ticked by, your thundering heartbeat gradually receding to a more sedate cadence in tandem with the rhythmic rise and fall of Akaashi's chest beneath your cheek. You allowed your eyes to drift shut, savoring the cocooning sanctuary of blankets, flickering candelabra, and his intoxicating spice-and-cedarwood cologne.

"This reminds me of being a kid and having sleepovers during thunderstorms," you mumbled groggily against his solid frame.

A rumbling chuckle reverberated beneath your palms where they rested over his heart.

"Is that so? I can't say I have many nostalgic memories of making pillow forts and telling ghost stories with friends."

You cracked open one eye to peer up at his striking silhouette, mouth tugging in a bemused smile. "No? I suppose actively seeking out haunted places for volleyball practice with Kou was more your style."

Akaashi snorted softly, letting the gentle teasing roll off him with fond exasperation. You drank in the way the muted candlelight played over the elegant slopes of his profile, heartbeat catching at the tenderness reflected in his storm-cloud irises. Quite abruptly, it struck you just how closely intertwined you were sprawled together.

Your nose was mere centimeters from grazing the stubbled hinge of his jaw as your gazes locked and held. A kaleidoscope of expressions flickered across Akaashi's face too quickly to decipher - tender longing, surprise, the quietest yearning. You felt simultaneously emboldened and paralyzed by the magnetism charging the scant breaths separating you.

His tongue swiped across his bottom lip instinctively and you were powerless to stop your own from mirroring the motion. That simple flick of movement brought your shared awareness crashing into riotous clarity.

"Y/N..." Akaashi's murmur vibrated over your swiftly warming skin like the rumble of oncoming thunder.

More words seemed to tether on the tip of his tongue, weighted and unspoken. Instead, he slowly inclined his face nearer - silently beseeching for permission with those piercing steel-grey irises. Your own eyes fluttered shut, tilting up to meet him halfway in quiet invitation.

The roar of the raging storm outside dimmed to a distant thrum as Akaashi closed the last hairsbreadth between your parted lips. His mouth slanted over yours in a slow, exploratory glide of searing heat. An electrical current jolted through you, catalyzing an invisible spark that ignited something molten and cataclysmic threatening to engulf you both in its fervor.

The gentle rasp of Akaashi's stubble feathering your cheek contrasted exquisitely with the velvet glide of his mouth moving in unhurried exploration across yours. You sank feverishly into the intimate glide, emboldened by his smoldering patience to tease the seam of his lips with a flick of your tongue.

He rewarded your ardor with a low rumbling exhale, immediately deepening the lush kiss and cradling your nape to tilt your head to a more devouring angle. The hand spanning your lower back scorched through the thin cotton barrier, urging you closer until you were sprawled fully across his powerful thighs.

A rush of trembling desire flooded your veins at the dominance of his hold, the tender way his other palm cradled your flushed cheek as if you were something precious to be cherished. You curled your fingers against the taut muscles sheathed by his t-shirt, absorbing the staggering heat radiating from him in waves.

Gradually, the leisurely sensuality of exchanging openmouthed kisses in the flickering candlelight evolved into something rawer, more heated. Akaashi's normally implacable control began shredding away as your tongue tangled with his in delirious cadence, exchanging breathy moans between slick slides of intimate friction.

His broad hands roamed in smoldering exploration - tracing the feminine dip of your waist, palming the flare of your hip in a commanding grip that sent your head spinning. When his calloused thumb traced the underside curve of your breast, you gasped into his mouth - entire body arching wantonly against the rigid line of his arousal.

The barest thread of sanity had you breaking away, reeling for oxygen in harsh pants against the glistening angle of Akaashi's jaw. His quicksilver gaze watched you through a lust-dazed haze, pulse fluttering wildly beneath his flushed skin where you cupped the column of his throat. Slowly, reverently, he turned to feather a trail of searing kisses along your quickening pulse point.

"Keiji..." you whimpered, fingers spasming against his chest when the velvet heat of his mouth found the juncture of your shoulder, teeth grazing tauntingly. "I can't...we should—ah!"

The needy whine sheared off as he sucked a blistering mark just below your clavicle, tongue flickering to soothe the hot sting of overstimulation. His knowing hum ricocheted straight to your molten core, heavy-lidded eyes lifting to pin you in place with fathomless yearning.

"We can stop whenever you wish," Akaashi rasped roughly against your damp skin, callused palms smoothing inescapable paths down your trembling body. "But I personally have no intention of going slowly after wanting this for so torturously long..."

You swallowed thickly, sanity careening precariously as his midnight timbre ghosted like sin over the swell of your breasts, lips mapping a scorching path lower with every inhalation. The last coherent thought filtering through ribboned into embers as Akaashi pressed you back onto the plush shag rug - moonlight and swaying candleflames framing his predatory form hovering above you.

"If I have my way, we won't be stopping until I've learned every exquisite sound you make," he whispered, nimble fingers already slipping beneath the hem of your borrowed hoodie. "Until you're utterly ruined for anyone else, only ever remembering how it feels to be loved by me."

A keening whimper rose unbidden in your throat, hips canting instinctively as his callused palms glided over the exposed expanse of your midriff. Akaashi's answering smirk was pure wickedness, the promise of a reckoning looming in his molten stare as his hands traveled further upwards.

"Let me show you how badly I've been craving you..." he murmured, palming your breasts in a kneading caress that left you gasping and arching wantonly. When his thumb grazed the pebbled peaks, you arched mindlessly into the delicious friction, eyes drifting shut with a low moan. Akaashi's rumbling chuckle rippled over your skin, then his scorching mouth was descending to follow his deft hands.

Your spine bowed when he took one nipple between his lips, rolling and tugging it until the pleasure was near-blinding. Akaashi's name tumbled from your lips in a fevered prayer, fingers scrabbling uselessly against his broad shoulders. His free hand grasped your hip in a firm hold, pinning you to the rug as his mouth continued its ruthless assault on the other pebbled bud.

You squirmed helplessly against the searing contact, panting for air as your blood boiled. All the while, Akaashi never faltered in his meticulous attentions - suckling and grazing his teeth until the ache coalesced into a desperate throbbing.

"Please..." you finally cried out, nails scoring his shirt with desperation.

Akaashi relented at last, raising his head with a wet pop to regard your wrecked state. His eyes flashed, mouth curving into a devastating smirk as he pressed a tender kiss to the center of your sternum.

"So pretty when you beg..."

Before you could even process his words, he was lowering his mouth between your trembling thighs - callused palms prying them wider apart. You keened at the first slick sweep of his tongue over your clothed core, fingers fisting desperately into the plush rug.

"F-fuck..."

The profanity spilled unbidden from your lips, incinerated by the white-hot sensation of Akaashi lapping greedily between your legs. His dark hair fell in silky disarray, obscuring his face where his nose nudged against your swollen bud. A growl rumbled up his throat as his tongue flattened against the soaked fabric.

"These need to go..." he mumbled, already reaching to slide your shorts and panties down your trembling legs. You barely had a moment to process his intent before his scorching mouth was descending upon the throbbing flesh, lapping and sucking until your entire body shuddered with need.

You writhed helplessly, head falling back onto the rug with a strangled cry. Akaashi's groan vibrated against your core, fingers digging into the backs of your thighs as he devoured you. His tongue swirled and plunged, driving you into a frenzy of pleasure so intense you felt your entire being shattering.

The world blurred and warped into a shimmering prism of sensation as he sucked mercilessly on your clit, the sharp scrape of his stubble against your inner thighs sending sparks ricocheting through your system. You keened, bucking helplessly against his merciless mouth.

"God, right there!"

Akaashi seemed to drink in the frenzied praise, doubling his efforts until your vision whitened at the edges. He growled possessively, nipping your swollen bud just as his fingers slid through the dripping mess to find your aching entrance.

One blunt digit plunged into your quivering core, then two. You were already clenching tightly around the welcome intrusion, riding the knife's edge of a bone-deep orgasm. Akaashi curled his fingers, seeking that elusive spot as his lips suctioned ruthlessly.

It only took a few expert strokes of his digits and the wicked swipe of his tongue before the world disintegrated. Your spine bowed violently, a scream tearing from your lungs as pleasure detonated along every nerve. Akaashi kept pumping, coaxing you through wave after wave of pulsing heat.

Gradually, you came back down to earth in a boneless puddle - heart racing and muscles trembling. Akaashi's dark hair was a complete wreck, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy as he watched you through thick lashes. The corner of his mouth lifted, lips glistening with the evidence of your pleasure.

"God, you're so fucking perfect," he murmured hoarsely, leaning down to drag a slow kiss across your trembling abdomen. You whimpered at the tender contact, fingers sliding into the silk of his locks.

When he pulled back, it was only to peel his shirt over his head - revealing the sculpted planes of his torso in all its glory. Akaashi's eyes flashed as he watched your appreciative stare drinking in the sight, his cock visibly twitching in his jeans.

He surged up to capture your lips in a dizzying kiss, tongue swirling against yours with a renewed fervor. You tasted the musk of yourself lingering on his mouth, the heady rush of sensation making you arch against his body.

Your hands roamed hungrily, mapping the dips and ridges of muscle along his back. When they drifted lower, he groaned low in his throat as you palmed the stiff line of his arousal through the denim. Akaashi's own hands were busy divesting you of your remaining clothing - shoving the hoodie up to expose the curves of your breasts again.

You squirmed, grinding against the rigid pressure as the tension rapidly spiraled towards unbearable. Akaashi's jaw tensed, a muscle feathering in his cheek as his nostrils flared. He broke the kiss to reach down and roughly free himself, hissing at the sensation.

Your lips parted on a silent gasp as you took in the sight of his cock. Even the first few inches jutting out above his fist looked painfully thick, a bead of precome welling at the tip.

Akaashi met your gaze, a flush staining his cheeks as you watched him stroke the swollen flesh. His stormy eyes were hooded, pupils blown wide and glimmering with restrained hunger.

"Is this what you want?" he rasped, voice fraying at the edges as his cockhead nudged the slick folds. You bit your lip, arching closer as he dragged his length along the slit - coating himself in your arousal. "You need to tell me if it's too much, okay?"

"Yes...please, Keiji..."

Your head fell back with a broken moan as he slid into your tight, fluttering entrance inch by inch. Akaashi's mouth fell open on a groan, hips stuttering when he finally bottomed out.

The delicious stretch of him filled you completely, every ridge and vein pulsing inside your walls. Your nails scored his back as you shifted restlessly, acclimating to the overwhelming sensation of fullness.

Akaashi exhaled shakily, nuzzling your neck as his palm skated down your stomach to find your throbbing clit. His hips began rocking gently, pulling out to the tip before sliding back into the welcoming clutch of your walls.

You clung to him, shuddering and moaning at the incredible friction. The air grew heavier, more charged with each deliberate glide - the wet sound of your coupling ringing obscenely. Akaashi's mouth was hot against your flushed skin, tongue sweeping out to taste the salt.

His hips gradually gained momentum, driving deeper until you were nearly delirious with pleasure. The room spun, every nerve singing. When he adjusted the angle to hit the sensitive spot deep inside, a breathless cry tore from your throat.

"God, right there, please don't stop!"

The command was punctuated with a roll of your own hips, seeking the delicious friction. Akaashi growled, teeth nipping your jaw as he drove into you harder - his thumb circling your clit faster.

Your second orgasm slammed into you with the force of a freight train. You screamed, eyes screwing shut as the blinding pleasure ricocheted through your veins. Your walls clamped around his shaft, milking him with a spasm.

With a guttural curse, Akaashi's hips stuttered and his cock pulsed violently. You felt the drag of him sliding out, then the hot splash of his cum coating your abdomen. Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his glassy, lust-addled stare.

He braced his weight on trembling arms, dipping his head to capture your lips in a deep, soul-stealing kiss. Your tongues tangled languidly, sharing breathless little gasps and moans. When he finally broke away, it was only to press a chaste kiss to the tip of your nose.

"You are so beautiful..."

His reverent murmur ghosted over your skin, making your chest clench. You carded your fingers through the silky locks, smoothing his hair back. Akaashi's eyelids drooped, savoring the contact before lifting them to reveal that same intense tenderness.

You could feel yourself getting lost in the stormy gray, drifting closer. His gaze was magnetic, drawing you in. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, pausing with his lips a hair's breadth from yours.

"Can we do that again?" he murmured, the ghost of a smirk playing about his mouth.

Your laughter pealed through the darkened room, bright and free. You felt lightheaded with elation, heart brimming.

"As often as you want," you promised, nipping playfully at his lower lip. "Although I hope there are some positions other than missionary..."

"I'll give you all my best ones," Akaashi rumbled, his expression turning positively sinful. "Over the couch, in the shower, bent over the kitchen table...every surface in this apartment..."

You hummed thoughtfully, running a teasing fingertip along the curve of his jaw. "What about the bed?"

His eyes sparkled, the corner of his mouth quirking. "Especially the bed."

You laughed, pulling him down for another kiss - the last rational thought to filter through ribboning into a whisper.

"It's a date, then."

The door rattled violently as a sudden pounding echoed through the apartment. You and Akaashi froze in naked surprise on the living room couch.

"BABY SIS! YOU IN THERE?! I'M SO SORRY I'M LATE!" Bokuto's frantic bellow reverberated down the hall, accompanied by more insistent knocking.

Your eyes widened in panic as Akaashi hurriedly grabbed a throw blanket, shielding your bare forms just as the front door burst open. Framed in the doorway stood Bokuto, drenched from head to toe and illuminated by the beam of a flashlight clutched in one hand.

"There you are! Are you okay?" His wild eyes swept the room before locking onto you huddled against Akaashi's equally undressed form on the sofa. "I knew how freaked out you get during big storms so I rushed over as soon as the--"

Bokuto's words sheared off abruptly as the realization visibly slammed into him. His owlish gaze bounced between you and Akaashi slack-jawed, the flashlight beam spinning dizzily. You shrank back, clutching the blanket modestly as a blistering blush consumed your face.

Akaashi, damn him, simply held Bokuto's shocked stare with infuriatingly placid nonchalance.

An eternity seemed to stretch in that crackling, awkward moment. Finally, Bokuto swallowed hard, adam's apple bobbing.

"I...I'll umm...I'll just..." He gestured vaguely over his shoulder before slowly pivoting on his heel.

Silently, with exaggerated care, Bokuto began shuffling backwards out of the apartment - gaze studiously averted and mouth still agape. When he reached the door he briefly met Akaashi's unflinching stare one last time before whirling around and bolting.

The door slammed with a rattling boom, leaving you and Akaashi alone once more amid the flickering candles in a weighty hush.

You chanced a sidelong glance at Akaashi, unable to bite back the somewhat hysterical giggle bubbling up.

"Well...I suppose there are worse ways for him to find out we're...you know..."

Akaashi merely hummed, mouth kicking up in a wry half-smile as he tugged you snugly against his chest once more.

"Indeed. Though I must admit, I've never seen Bokuto-san's typically energetic demeanor so effectively stunned into silence."

Laughing helplessly, you nuzzled into the sleep-warmed crook of his neck - delighting in the simple intimacy of being wrapped up with the man you adored after the mortifying interruption.

"Should we be expecting the shovel talk next time he comes barreling in?" you teased lightly.

"Undoubtedly," Akaashi rumbled, fingertips trailing patterns along the exposed expanse of your back that raised goosebumps. "Just another family bonding moment to look forward to."

You hummed contentedly, sinking deeper into his solid embrace as the rumbling storm outside at last began tapering off to distant echoes. A new dawn was cresting over the horizon, heralding uncharted beginnings filled with promise.

[atarathegreat]

His Property. Sanzu Haruchiyo

Sanzu, who had been having a decent day with Bonten and pushing Takeomi to his absolute limits, finally was able to arrive home. The simple smell of cinnamon and cleaned laundry enveloped him and made it seem as if an absolutely bloodthirsty man never set foot inside the house. Your house.

And it was your house, according to the state and bank and on paper. There was no paper trail tying Sanzu to the heap of wood you made into a lavish den for the dog to rest his claws. It was better that way. Much as it was better that you only lived with him, that there was no boyfriend/girlfriend title tying him to you. You often feared he was out with whatever woman (or man, Sanzu doesn't complain as long as it's a hole) he wanted to be with. Yet in his eyes, there was only you. And he wouldn't let his work interfere with you having a normal life.

Aside from the nights he came home bloodstained and you had to burn his clothes, but that's beside the point.

Twelve steps from the door, a strange scent hit Sanzu. This wasn't something he hadn't smelled before, but usually, you let him watch as you applied makeup. And only for special occasions. Did he forget something? The living room seemed too dark as he muttered the important dates he knew under his breath. Anniversary was in a month, birthdays were already celebrated, and no one had died.

The soft pitter patter of your feet stopped in the doorway as you stared at Sanzu. "You're home already..." You angled your toes together, face turned slightly to the side as if you were looking around him. Sure, he was a little early, but-

In a flash, the light was on and Sanzu was opening every closed door, looking behind every curtain. Makeup? Surprised he was home? There was only one explanation. He didn't like the implications. "Where is he, you brat?" Sanzu stomped across the living room, jaw clenched tightly as he grabbed your arms, "Tell me now before I throw you from this house!"

"Where is who?" Your wide eyes wouldn't get you out of it this time. There was a man in his house. What other reason did you have to wear makeup at this hour? He was ready to scream, but when Sanzu grabbed your face and the makeup smeared to reveal purple skin beneath, he became a deadly calm. "Who did this to you, pet?" Firm fingers made you wince as he wiped at the area, "Who touched what is mine?"

There was only one way for you to answer him: truthfully. Sanzu knew you like the back of his hand, he constantly had you under surveillance (which should've been obvious that you couldn't cheat, but Sanzu is far from a reasonable man), and he'd be damned if he let you lie to him. Not that you never tried, but this wasn't something he tolerated.

"I'm okay, Zuzu, really-"

He squished your cheeks, making your lips pucker, "If another word leaves these pretty lips and it isn't answering my question, you will receive just punishment. Understood?"

"The neighbor... his mail was accidently put in our mailbox, and he flipped..."

Sanzu sighed. Another stupid neighbor that he has to make move. How tedious and annoying.

"Wash your face, go to bed." Sanzu kissed your nose, "I'll be home soon."

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

I think that the whole gang, if put into a seemingly inescapable situation, would want to go out together like the toys prepare to do in the furnace scene of Toy Story 3.

Anon why did you do this to me... Now I have to write this.

Goodbye, forever this time

Warnings: Major angst, major character death, unhappy ending, everyone dies in the end, gore, blood, fire, explosions. Notes: Not canon to Poppy Worldwide! That AU has a happy ending.

So, this was it.

This was how they would die.

Dogday wasn't expecting things to go like this. Not after everything they went through, not after all the work they put into their new lives, not after finally escaping that nightmare. He had a taste of freedom and the Sun to look up to every morning. He could take long walks in the woods, could say hello to every single one of the friends he thought had died. He had everything.

And now, his mother was dead, his father was gone, and they had nowhere else to run.

He stared at his bloody hands. The last thing Angel told him was to live. Not survive, live. "You are everything I have", they choked on their own blood. "So please, try to live without me".

"This is it", Dogday muttered, still feeling the ghost of his parent holding his hand. "No way out".

"Quit whining", Long Legs groaned, spread on a corner, trembling and now without one of her legs. How ironic. "This can't be it".

"But it is".

He had to control his tone so he wouldn't break down in tears. At any moment, the fire would find them, and once it did, it would be over. And if it wasn't the fire, then it would be Pierre.

"What did mom tell you?", Marie added. They all heard it. It was a stupid, stupid rethorical question. Dogday took a step towards her:

"What do you want me to do?"

"Think of a way out of this! We can't let them down again!"

"Mom is dead!"

"I saw that, do you think I'm blind?"

"Quit it, you two!"

Dogday lowered his ears. Kissy and Poppy were hugging each other, the tiny doll, now partially broken, speaking up only loud enough for the group to hear.

"Please", she cleaned her own tears. "Please, just stop".

"I'm sorry", he muttered. "It's just..."

He could still hear Elliot throwing them away from the room that started the fire, using whatever was left of his strenght to end Sawyer's life once and for all.

Dogday felt a hug. He closed his eyes, feeling Catnap purr. "I'm sorry".

The feline held him closer. Dogday sobbed. The fire was getting closer as well.

He heard a sigh; Marie then hugged him. Her way of apologizing, he knew it, and that was the only reason he was still able to reciprocate the hug.

Then, the others joined. The entire family of 88, now 86, soon enough to be 0. They smelt like ash and dried blood, just like before Angel found them.

Dogday wanted to scream, but he couldn't. Not like this, not in this situation. So when they all stopped hugging each other, he merely pressed his head against Catnap's, holding him close, and watched in silence as a scream echoed in the background.

"It's Pierre", Craftycorn muttered. "I-it's him", she hid her face, Huggy trying to comfort her. "What should we do...?"

Delight got up.

"Mother told us to live", she spoke up. "So let's do that one more time, shall we? When he comes over there, he will be weak enough for us to kill him. And then, we can dance one last time".

"We will pass out before the fire is able to do much damage", Bubba muttered. "This may be for the best".

The other critters agreed. And, although a bit later, the others nodded along.

Dogday pretended Angel was still alive for them. He tried to wipe Catnap's tears, but only left their mother's blood on his face.

"I love you", the orange dog was able to whisper.

"I love you too", the other whispered back.

They were robbed of everything once again. But this time, at least this one time, they wouldn't die alone in a dark and empty factory, but a burning laboratory next to each other.

Maybe things were meant to be this way. Maybe they were never meant to live. Maybe this was what took Angel's life.

"Goodbye".

[yinorathedragontamer]

Could you do a Dead Boy Detectives Cat King x reader Payne, Edwin’s sibling who is a ghost after a freak accident and helps them out. They always put the boys needs above their own. After the first Cat King meeting they get a little jealous of their brother but they know it’s wrong. Of course Monty and the others would like Edwin.

Pairing: Thomas "the Cat King" x gn! ghost! Payne! reader, mild implied Monty x reader if you squint, Edwin Payne x sibling! reader

a/n: tysm for this request! i hope it is to your liking and i hope it's not too ooc<3

warnings: jealous reader, it's implied that reader could be interested in Monty, Charles and Crystal [Cat King talks about which form he should take, inspired by the scene in the show when he turns into Monty and Charles to try and seduce Edwin], i wasn't sure whether these warnings were necesarry but i added them anyway just incase

You had been part of the dead boy detectives agency for a while, ever since you had found your brother Edwin again, you stayed by his side, and ofcourse Charles's too.

you aways helped out, kept them safe the best you could. even when you weren't in a state to do so.

there were uncountable times when you took the hit instead of them, physically and mentally.

you helped calm down ghosts who were lost, helped along with cases to make sure everything went according to plan, steped infront of them if someone tried to attack with an iron weapon, no matter how bad it hurt.

ofcourse, Edwin greatly appreciated it, and yet somehow you feel underappreciated.

they never changed the name, even though you joined, they were the ones people, well, ghosts looked for.

it was always "where are the two boys we were told about" and never "aren't you one of the dead boy detectives?"

when Crystal joined, she didn't seem very fond of you at first, which you honestly didn't mind too much.

could you blame her? she got her memories stolen by her demon ex and now she has no idea where she's supposed to be, where her home is.

when the four of you went to Port Townsend you thought little of it.

it was just one quick little case, right?

wrong.

because of your brother Edwin using a simple spell on a cat that you guys got stuck here.

when you first met the Cat King, you were intrigued to say the least.

maybe it was his way of talking, maybe it was those eyes that captivated you, whatever it was, you felt drawn to him.

but ofcourse, he only looked at your brother.

was it normal to feel jealous like that? you love your brother dearly, you shouldn't want to take something like that from him, right?

right?

when you met Monty, you thought he was pretty cute.

not your exact type, but cute.

but ofcourse, yet again, Edwin was the star of the show.

eventually Monty wanted to hang out with you too, but it was after the third time of him asking to hang out that you found out the only true reason was so he would have an excuse to see Edwin when walking you 'home', which really pissed you off.

so you left, mumbling something about just wanting to take a walk alone for a moment.

much to your luck, they accepted it without another thought.

as you walk, you can't help but notice the amount of cats you see everywhere.

Edwin was supposed to count them all, right?

maybe you could help by counting aswell, and telling Edwin later on how many you saw.

but you were too upset to really do that, so you just kept walking.

until you notice that one of the cats seems to be following you, no matter how many times you turn a corner, or stop for a moment, it seemed to follow your every move.

up untill a specific part, near the woods.

you thought it finally stopped following you, untill you turned around to see none other than the Cat King standing there.

that startled you, for some reason you didn't exactly expect it, and you nearly tripped if he didn't catch you.

"why are you here? why did you follow me?" you instantly question him, which seems to surprise him atleast a little.

"woah, calm down, i wasn't following you, i was just... taking a stroll... okay no i was totally following you" he admits.

"has Edwin counted all the cats yet?" you roll your eyes.

"no, obviously not, he would've gone to find you if he did" you cross your arms and look away from him.

why did he have to look so charming?

you thought he'd leave, but he didn't.

why was he still staring at you?

"you know, i only pay so much attention to him because of his spell on one of my dear cats, you should remember that"

"why would i care who you give your stupid attention to" you practically snarl, though he doesn't seem to be bothered by your tone.

"now, now, no need to feel so attacked. i just want to know, what is it that has gotten you in such a sour mood" he nearly sounds like he cares.

nearly.

"nothing, i just wanted to take a walk" you lie, hoping he'd just leave you alone.

"right, lets try that again, hm?"

he swipes his thumb over your mouth, and much to your surprise you spill everything that you've been keeping quiet about.

"it's just that, i really do love my brother, truly, but sometimes i wish he wouldn't be the one getting all the attention, like, you gave him all your attention back when you wanted to punish him for his 'crime' and Monty only wanted to hang out with me to get closer to him and i just wish that for once, just once, someone i'm interested in would actually see me too. Edwin and Charles, now Crystal too, always get so much credit for solving cases too, and yet i'm the one that keeps getting hurt, that keeps being the target, i always put them above me and ofcourse i'm not greedy about getting attention or gratefullness but does it really hurt that much to ask if i'm okay? if i'm okay with being the bait when it's necesarry? if i'm okay with being ready to face death and go to the afterlife so she'll leave them alone? is it too much to ask for just a little care that's more than just some simple praise?" you ramble on for a bit, barely noticing the small, sypathetic smile on his face.

"now, now, darling, that is quite a lot of emotion, huh?"

"oh fuck off" you snap back, the tingling feeling of the spell he used to make you tell him fading as quick as it came.

"i see you, i have for a while" he admits.

"do you have any idea how hard it is to focus on being intimidating and giving your brother his punishment for using a spell against one of my cats when you're right next to him, all pretty and enticing" he drawls out as if he's a kid who's throwing a tantrum about not getting icecream.

"i mean seriously, have you seen yourself?"

"not exactly, i don't have a reflection as a ghost" you mumble, trying to ignore the growing heat on your cheeks.

he rolls his eyes.

"tell me, what form should i take to entice you to... stay with me, atleast for the night? Monty? Charles? Crystal? i can be whoever you want me to be, my dear [name]" he says as he takes the respective forms of each person he lists, and you notice how even though he practically shape-shifts, one thing always stays the same: those eyes you've grown to love.

"just be you" you murmur, daring to take a step closer to him, to which he subtly licks his lips.

it seems as though he's about to say something, but then he kisses you instead, taking a hold on your waist, he seems to be more gentle than you expected, and you kiss him back.

if someone told you that this kiss lasted for hours, you would've believed them.

it felt as if you got that peacefull after-life that you were promised, without ever leaving behind those you care about.

reluctantly, you both pull away.

"can i stay with you tonight, then?" you mutter quietly.

the Cat King nods, taking your hand, ready to lead you to his abode.

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

[misc-obeyme]

Spear Lessons

I had an idea, so I wrote it. A huge shout out to this guy's youtube where I watched his videos on how to use a spear multiple times in order to write this. Also I'd like to say that there are a lot of suggestive words when it comes to spears, but I swear this is entirely sfw.

GN!MC x Raphael

Warnings: none, it's fluff

You hefted your bag onto your shoulder more snugly as you made your way down the front stairs at RAD. You were finally done with classes and after school meetings. It was time to make your way back to the House of Lamentation.

You were thinking about what you would do when you got there as you walked through campus. You stayed on the path, following it as it wound through the grounds. Your thoughts were disturbed when something bright caught your eye.

You turned your head in that direction only to stop dead in your tracks.

It was Raphael and the glint from the gold of the diamonds in his hair had been what you had seen.

There was nothing unusual about seeing Raphael around campus, but you were entranced by what he was doing.

In his hands, Raphael held one of his infamous spears. It was no simple wood and iron spear, either. It looked like it was made of gold and steel, bright as the eternal Celestial Realm sun.

He was moving through a specific set of moves, holding the spear firmly, thrusting and lunging at imaginary opponents.

Your heart raced as you watched him. His footwork was precise but complicated, making him look like a deadly dancer. His face was as serious as it always was, composed and full of concentration.

Raphael turned in his routine and his eyes focused on your face. He stopped moving, looking at you over the shining tip of the spear.

You were wondering if you should say something when Raphael pulled the spear back, holding it at his side and standing straight out of his fighting stance.

"MC," he said. He didn't sound upset that you were watching him. He sounded just as he always did.

You were flustered, though, at having been caught. "I'm sorry," you said. "I didn't mean to stare at you or to interrupt. I was just curious." You couldn't exactly say that you were a little entranced by him, too.

Raphael cocked his head a little. "Are you interested in learning to use the spear, MC? I can show you the basics."

You blinked. You hadn't really thought about it, but now that he had suggested it…

"I would like that," you replied.

Raphael nodded. "We can start now, if you like."

You immediately shrugged off your book bag and left it in the grass. "Okay," you said.

Raphael gestured for you to stand in front of him. Then he handed you his spear. You took it reverently, especially because you felt like you were handling something holy.

"It isn't fragile," Raphael said, seemingly picking up on your sense of uncertainty. "Grip it firmly."

"Like this?" you asked, attempting to emulate how you had seen him holding it earlier.

"Your grip depends on how you intend to use it," Raphael said. "Let's start with the basic thrust move. For that you'll want your dominant hand closer to the base of the spear. It will be the one directing your thrusts."

You rearranged your hold a bit, to be closer to what you thought was correct.

Raphael studied your hold for a moment. "Now thrust the spear forward with both hands, without changing their position, and lunge forward with your front foot. Make sure to keep your stance a bit low to the ground."

You did as he instructed and then froze in place with the spear extended. The tip didn't quite reach Raphael, but it was inches away from his chest. He seemed unperturbed.

"That's good, MC," he said. "But your power is lacking. You need to put your dominant hand a little further back."

You readjusted your hand and tried again.

After several repetitions of the move where Raphael simply watched you, he held up a hand.

You stopped, still in a fighting stance, and waited.

Raphael circled around behind you. You figured he was looking at all the ways in which you were standing incorrectly.

And then you felt his hands on yours. And you realized he was standing close enough to put his arms around you and hold the spear with you.

"You need to hold it more on an angle, like this." Raphael's voice was right next to your ear and you tried not to think about the goosebumps that rose on your skin. He adjusted the angle of the spear.

"When you thrust, simply go straight forward. Be careful not to do this." He demonstrated by thrusting the spear, his chest pressing against your back as he did. It was clear that he was telling you not to let the spear go out from your body before it went forward toward your opponent.

"Keep it steady," Raphael said. "And step into the forward movement."

Raphael let go of you and stepped back. "Try it again," he said.

You were grateful he was behind you now, hoping it meant he couldn't see the blush on your cheeks. You had to take a breath before attempting the move again.

After your next attempt, you couldn't stop yourself from looking over your shoulder at him, for confirmation on whether or not you had improved.

Your heart nearly stopped when you saw the gentle smile on his face. He nodded in approval.

You spent another solid hour practicing this basic move with Raphael's spear. It started to feel like second nature, as if that beautiful shining weapon somehow belonged in your very own human hands.

When you realized you needed to get back to the House of Lamentation, you carefully handed Raphael back his spear.

He stood it upright beside him, smiling at you again. Your heart shuddered at the sight - he looked absolutely angelic when he smiled at you like that.

"You did well, MC," he said. "I think you have potential with the spear, if you'd like to continue training."

You shrugged at the praise. "I just had a really good teacher, that's all."

Raphael sighed and shook his head a little. "I think I was a bit too distracting for you. But you managed to improve despite that. You truly are remarkable, MC."

You blushed because it was pretty clear from this statement that he had been aware of the reactions you had attempted to hide.

To your complete astonishment, Raphael reached out and put his hand on your cheek. "This is what I mean," he said.

You fought to stop yourself from blushing even more, but it was a losing battle. "Um, I should get back…"

Raphael stepped away from you, then smiled and said, "If you keep practicing, you'll be able to put those brothers in their place in no time."

You laughed. It was such a hilarious image, you couldn't help it. "I can't wait to see the looks on their faces," you said.

You thanked Raphael and made a plan to continue your training at a later time. As you grabbed your bag, you stopped for a moment to watch as he fell into an elaborate routine once again. You wouldn't soon forget the feeling of his hands on yours or the sound of his voice, low in your ear. You rushed home with the golden glint of his spear still prominent in your mind.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[3hobbitsinatrenchcoat]

The World Shrinks to the Circle of Your Arms

Happy Dorym Week 2024! Today's drabble is inspired by the prompt "I miss you. (I love you.)" and the song May I by Trading Yesterday

I'll post all my drabbles to AO3 later, but for now enjoy them here on tumblr.

(Beware spoilers for Episode 95)

-----

“She’ll be alright.”

Dorian kneels down in front of Orym, who in the aftermath of Laudna’s dramatic window exit has stumbled over to the wall opposite and slid down to sit on the floor. He barely glances at Dorian, instead his eyes are locked on the inky black square of night beyond the window.

“I don’t think any of us have been alright for a long time, Dorian.” he says, voice cracking with exhaustion. His eyes don’t leave the window. “I just wish I could understand why she’s so determined about this.”

Sighing, Dorian reaches out and brushes his fingers against the side of Orym’s face. His heart flutters at the way his friend leans into the contact, but he tamps the feeling down. It’s just comfort, friendly comfort. After the night he’s had, Orym just needs a friend.

He swallows hard and says, “Probably for the same reasons you’re determined. You’re both grieving, you just have different ways of showing it.” 

Orym finally tears his eyes away from the window, ducking his head with a small wry smile playing at his lips. “Gods. I’ve missed you. You always know what to say.”

“I wish that were true,” Dorian moves to Orym’s side and slides down the wall next to him, pulling the blanket from his bedroll over their laps against the night-time chill. He lets his head thump back against the wood paneling. If he knew what to say Cyrus would probably still be alive. Opal would still have all the feelings and memories that had been torn away by the spider queen. At least Dariax was fine. There, that was one person he’d used the right words for, one person he’d managed to save from the landslide that had become his life… 

Dorian is pulled away from his spiraling thoughts by Orym (probably unconsciously, Dorian thinks) leaning into his side, forcing him to pull his arm out of the way before it gets pinned in an uncomfortable position. He holds it in the air for a moment, unsure, then gives into temptation and wraps it around Orym’s shoulders.

Orym hums softly and leans harder into him. “I mean it. I missed you. I… I thought about you every day.”

“Even on the moon?” Dorian asks with a quiet chuckle.

“Even then,” says Orym, pausing as he yawns so widely Dorian thinks he can hear his jaw creak. Orym presses a palm against his eyes and Dorian can see a faint tremor to his normally steady hands. When he speaks again his voice is quieter, tone approaching dreamlike. “Did you know they call Exandria the ‘blue promise’? They look up at us and have hope for the future. I…”

He cuts off abruptly, turning his face away, though Dorian can still see the flush staining his cheekbones.

They sit quietly for a long moment, then Dorian swallows hard and gathers his courage. “I missed you every day too, Orym. There… there wasn’t a single day I didn’t wish you were by my side.” 

He feels Orym slump against his side, his breath finally evening out into exhausted slumber. With an amused huff the genasi tucks their shared blanket more firmly around them both and rests his cheek against the top of Orym’s head.  

“Hope for the future,” he whispers, breath ruffling Orym’s hair. “There’s worse things to wish for.”

Try as he might, though, sleep is not so quick to claim Dorian. He holds Orym tucked close into his side and thinks of friends lost to objects of immense and powerful darkness. The last thing he remembers before his eyes finally, blissfully, slide shut is the pale streaks of dawn peaking through the window and the creak of floorboards as his wayward companions return. 

[hazbinshusk]

blitzø x reader. blitzø is still feeling like shit after what happened at ozzie's, and moxxie isn't helping any. you step in on his behalf, much to your boss' surprise. fluff and angst. adult language (duh), references to sex. 1.3k

(first time writing blitzø/helluva boss, so please, all feedback will be appreciated).

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You jump in your seat at Luna’s desk as the office door slams open, cursing under your breath as the movement caused you to spill coffee on the wood in front of you. The hellhound usually rolled into work whenever Blitzø did, and you often covered the phones until the two of them showed up. Still, after a few vague text messages from her this morning, you weren’t sure they were ever going to make it in.

So, you’re surprised to see Blitzø slouching into the office relatively early, Luna at his heel with her nose in her phone. The imp has dark sunglasses firmly in place on his face and a deep scowl marring his features. Between that and the extra-large coffee cup clutched in his hand, you decide against your usual morning greeting.

Moxxie, on the other hand, apparently has less reservations about kicking that particular hornet’s nest. “Good morning, sir. I need to talk to you about last night.”

“What?”

“As you may recall, I told you that our reservation last night was just for Millie and I, and—”

Blitzø’s scowl deepens. “Shut the fuck up, Mox.”

And with that, your boss stomps across the office and slams his own door behind him without so much as acknowledging the rest of you.

After a pregnant moment of silence, you vacate Loona’s seat and turn to the imps. “Okay, what the fuck did I miss last night?”

Millie frowns, her hand squeezing Moxxie’s shoulder. “Kind of… a lot.”

“So…” you say slowly, taking a seat on the sofa. “Did you thank him?”

***

You raise a brow as the imp couple finally finish relaying everything you had missed at Ozzie’s the night before. Casting a glance towards Blitzø’s still firmly closed door, you nod slowly as you absorb the story. You take a sip of your now lukewarm coffee as Moxxie officially finishes his rant.

“Did we what?”

“Thank him.” you repeat, holding up a hand when Moxxie opens his mouth to object. “Yeah, yeah, I know it’s messed up that he was there, but to hear you tell it, you didn’t even know he was there until he stood up for you. In front of Verosika Mayday and that Fizzarolli guy. Two people he clearly has issues with.”

Millie casts her husband a guilty look, Moxxie still staring at you with one finger raised and his mouth hanging open with a forgotten argument.

“She’s got a point,” Loona interjects dryly without looking up from her phone.

“So…” you continue with a sigh, leaning back against the couch cushions. “He put his dignity on the line in front of you guys and Stolas and every other chuckle-fuck in that place, and guys are mad at him?”

“We told him—”

“I know what you told him. But you know what he’s like.” you interrupt, waving a hand at Moxxie. “And I’m sorry, but you’re the asshole who decided to sing a love song in the middle of the King of Lust’s own club. As romantic as that is, Mox, it was really dumb. Like, trying to get Mammon to participate in a charity drive dumb.”

Millie pouts thoughtfully, folding her arms across her chest. “I guess we didn’t think of it like that.”

“I’m just sayin’…” you shrug a shoulder, finishing off the last of your coffee. “You should take it easy on Blitzø, is all. He… means well.”

***

Living in hell isn’t exactly a picnic, but waking up that night to a violent thumping on the front door is still, thankfully, rare. Groaning in annoyance as you’re dragged unwillingly from the comfort of your mattress, you roll over to grope blindly for the baseball bat you keep under the bed. The pounding continues as you clamber out of bed and make your way blearily to the door on the other side of your studio apartment.

“Alright, asshole, I’m coming. For fuck’s—” you break off as you unlock the door and jerk it open. “Blitzø?! What in the ever-loving fuck are you—”

“The fuck did you do it for?”

Your frown deepens, confused and still half asleep. Still, you set the bat down and step aside to wave him into the apartment before the neighbors get involved. You flinch as he slams the door behind him. “Do what?”

“Don’t give me that shit!” he spits back at you, swaying slightly where he stands. Great, you have a drunk, angry Blitzø on your hands. “Tell me why!”

“Dude, it’s currently…” you sigh irritably, casting a glance towards the clock glowing on your stove. “…almost four in the morning. If you want me to understand what the fuck you’re talking about, you’re gonna have to be specific.”

He clenches his teeth together, his fists balled tightly. He grinds out the words, like it physically pains him to say anything at all. “That shit you said to Mox about me.”

“Oh.”

“The fuck d’you mean, ‘oh’?”

You rub the sleep out of your eye with the heel of your hand. Instead of answering, you turn and make your way back to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “How’d you get here?”

“I— what?”

“Did Loona drop you off?”

Blitzø rolls his eyes, beyond irritated by the change of subject. “Christ on a stick, why does it matter? I fuckin’ drove myself, okay?”

“It matters because you are so not driving yourself home tonight.” you exhale, swinging your legs up onto the bed and pulling the covers up over your lap. “So, you comin’ to bed, or what?”

Blitzø jabs a finger at you belligerently. “You think you can just distract me by lettin’ me nail your sweet bitch-ass, is—”

“Fuckin’ Christ, Blitzø,” you shake your head, exasperated. “I said that shit because it’s true. You put your ass on the line to defend your friends in front of people from your past and Stolas! You did a nice thing because you’re a nice guy and I think you deserve credit for it! It’s not that deep!”

He stops as though you’d knocked the wind out of him, the anger smoothed from his features. Instead, he just looks… surprised. “…You think I’m nice?”

You sigh, patting the mattress beside you. “Just… let’s just sleep, alright? We’ll talk when you’re sober.”

He eyes you almost suspiciously for a long moment, fists still curled by his sides. You roll your eyes, making a show of laying back and making yourself comfortable. He groans dramatically, tossing his head back in an exaggerated eye roll before stomping over to join you. You close your eyes as he sheds his jacket and kicks off his boots, grumbling all the while. Still, you feel his bravado fail him as he reaches the bed, and he hesitates there at the edge of it until you lift the edge of the blankets for him.

Blitzø clambers up onto the mattress beside you, letting you fold the covers back over him. He shuffles closer to you awkwardly, and you feel his hand brush against your arm for a second before he pulls it away again. Reaching out, you catch it with yours, interlacing your fingers with his. You feel him stiffen for a moment before he squeezes it back.

“Can’t believe I finally got your hot little ass into bed and all we’re doin’ is holdin’ hands,” he mutters. He doesn’t, for once, actually sound like he’s complaining. “This is some M&M level bullshit.”

You hum in amusement, and even with your eyes closed, you can feel his face only inches from yours. “Trust me, Blitzø, when I do fuck your brains out, you’re gonna want to be sober enough to remember it in the morning.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then…

“When you WHAT?!”

[oneeyedgrimes]

Copies.

A/N: this is my first time trying this concept! This was based off a blog I saw if i can find it I’ll tag the person! If this does well enough or people like it enough I’ll do a part 2 this is just testing the waters! Also the gif is what Daryl looks like when they see each other

Y/n and Daryl were raised very similarly growing up, both with shitty dad’s and a mother that would’ve done anything for them but was take from them early, which also caused them to have VERY similar personalities, like damn near the same people.

When y/n found the group she had been on the brink of starving to death she was the last person alive after watching the small group that consisted of 5 other people that she’d been with almost since, die right in front of her her sister included and there was nothing she could do but run. She was by herself for weeks or what felt like it anyway when 3 men found her in the middle of the woods leaning up against a tree with an empty water bottle next to her.

The moment y/n realized she wasn’t alone she hurriedly stood up picking up her crossbow pointing it at one of the men as he did the same to her, though she was outnumbered with a the other dude pointing his gun at her, she looked at the 3rd boy who seemed to be nervous about the whole situation “ I-I’m Glenn, this is Shane and Daryl, we uh heard something out here thought you were a walker-“ “ walkers? Tha’s wha ya’ll are callin’ these sick sons of bitches?” Y/n scoffed lifting her crossbow higher, she let go watching as her bow flew past ‘Daryl’s’ ear shooting a walker right thru its head watching as its body dropped to the ground. “ tell me why I shouldn’t put one in the three of you next” she grabbed another bow putting it back into her arrow. Daryl started to speak “ ‘cause we’ll have ya on yur ass before you can’t even try.” “ oh is that a bet?-“ You raised your crossbow higher before the boy with the baseball cap started to talk. “We have a camp!“ “ Hey- aye man the hell you doin.’ ” Shane cut Glenn off but y/n heard what she needed to.

She slowly lowered her bow finally taking a good look at the three guys, they looked clean, well Glenn and Shane did, Daryl looked a bit dusty but it was nothing compared to you. You looked at Glenn “y’all’s got a camp somewhere ‘round here? Ya got room for one more?” She cocked her head to the side watching as Shane leaned over to talk to Glenn, she took the time to look over at Daryl who hadn’t talked the entire time, though he’s sat his crossbow down against a tree and was watching as Shane and Glenn bickered about letting y/n come to the camp before he finally spoke up “ jus’ let ‘er come if she tries anythang’ we can handle her ass” y/n lifted her brows at him and she felt the tiniest hint of a smile on her face, he too had the redneck accent though his was a bit thicker than y/n’s.

It was Shane who snapped you out of your thoughts, a bit rudely. “ hey listen here, we gon take you to our camp, ‘cause you look like a pound of shit alright but if you try anything we’ll have your ass on a platter you got it?” Y/n just rolled her eyes huffing “ yea’ I got it asshole” she mumbled the last part under her breath as she picked up her bag and swung her crossbow over her head watching as Daryl did the same.

[drop-cherries]

Platonic!Daryl Dixon x Teen Reader [ Feedback warmly welcomed ]

Masterlist - Last Part

You stared at him, what if he was one of the generals men. And you had just never seen him before. What if he was lying to you.

“How do I know you're not lying?” You ask, lowering your flashlight just a little.

“I’ve never seen ya before. I've only been in the state for a few days.” He says back. His tone is serious, you oddly believe that he isn't lying. Just by the tone of his voice. You also know that you shouldn't trust him just yet.

“Why did you come to this house? There are plenty others.” You interrogated.

“I jus’ came from the wood, this was the closest house.”

“Why are you in florida?” 

“I’m lookin’ for some people.”

“Who?”

“Family. Are ya done with the questions?” 

“For now,” You replied, finally lowering the gun. Sitting back down and throwing it on the couch beside you.

“Who are ya so afraid of findin’ ya?” He asked, it was his turn to interrogate you.

You look up shocked, fear flashed through your eyes before you quickly schooled your features. But daryl already saw it “Ya don’ have to tell me don’ worry, but i just need to know they wont come here lookin’ for ya.”

“I don't think they will find me here, its too far away.” you reply, looking down at you hand picking at the edges of your finger nails.

“I have some clean water and cloth ya should yerself up.” 

You take the cloth and water, quietly cleaning your arms and head. By the time you finish, Daryl has already taken a seat on the floor. You noticed he carried a crossbow with him, and he was now working on sharpening the bolts that go with his crossbow.

You sat back on the couch clutching your knife tightly to your chest, still nervous around this new person. You haven't met anyone new since being sold to the general, and locked in that decrepit room for years, until yesterday you had not been outside for 4 years, knowing nothing about your surroundings was scary at first but you finally felt free for the first time in years and that is something you marvel at.

That night you hadn't slept wanting to keep an eye on the man still unsure on whether to trust him or not. Throughout the night he had kept his eyes closed, but you knew he had not slept either.

The smell of the house you had camped in started to get to you so you had decided to go outside to breathe in the fresh morning air, dew covering the ground gave you a sense of self and comfort. 

You heard the door open and Daryl stepped out. Carrying his full pack and crossbow.

“I’m lookin’ to leave the state soon,” He started “if ya are lookin to get away from whoever yer running from ya could come with me.”

You look up at him with surprise, relief flooding through you at the opportunity to get away from here. And to be traveling with someone who has been out in the world all this time. 

You finally nod a yes and he hums in confirmation. Taking off his poncho he hands it to you muttering that it's chilly outside, you receive it with a smile.

Returning to the house you go inside to grab your pack, Daryl waits for you outside after telling you that it's time yall move on from this area. It is wiser not to stay in one place for a stretched period of time to keep yourself as safe as possible.

You and Daryl started your walk when the sun was nearly in the sky, having found more houses nearby to scavenge. You eventually found a hoodie that was decently clean and gave Daryl back the poncho you borrowed. 

Both of you shared little talk on the trek, the silence a comfortable silence. There were few walkers throughout the woods but not too many to be a problem for you guys. You stopped for a moment to ask Daryl for a break, catching his attention but before you could get you question out your vision blurred and turned black before you fell to the ground.

As you wake up the smell of smoke invades your senses, opening your eyes to find yourself propped up against a tree and a fire going in front of you. Daryl is off to the side doing something you cannot get a good look at.

As you shift your head pulses with pain and you groan. Daryl hears the noise and turns towards you with some meat in his hands, must be a squirrel as that is all you have seen out here since you escaped.

“What happened?” You finally let out.

“Ya passed,” He started “I'm guessing from dehydration and malnutrition, i caught and cooked up some food.’ As Daryl says this he walks over to you and hands you a canteen and some of the meat he cooked.

You took the offerings with vigor, finally having something to eat nearly made you feral as you quickly ate the foom. At some point Daryl tells you to take it slow, but you just ignore him.

“How old are ya kid?” Daryl asks.

“If I'm correct about 16 but I haven't had a proper way to track the years in a long time.” You reply finally having something to ingest making you more open to oversharing personal details.

Daryl hums in response gauging by your reaction early its best to not pry on your personal background unless it is in regards to your safety.

As you were enjoying your food you and Daryl suddenly heard groaning, the distinct sound of walkers. Your head shoots up along with his and you look around finally seeing the culprit or culprits. What looked like dozens and dozens of walkers were coming your way.

Immediately you both stand quickly grabbing your items to get out of there. But soon the horde grew and were slowly lessening the distance. In your time at the compound you forgot how scary it was to be surrounded by a horde of walkers. Your heart rate spikes and anxiety grows in your stomach. 

Getting to a clearing on the edge of the woods you both spot a camper, making eye contact and confirmation you start running fast towards it, ripping open the door and huddling inside right as the walkers get there, scratching and biting at the walls. You and daryl were trapped

Taglist: @slutstucky @sysqzs @v1rtualv4mp

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

[eeechooo]

Sweet Victory

Fandom : Lockwood and co Gn x George Karim Request by : @happygoosebird "You’re struggling with studying for a test and George offers to help. There are cookies involved."

__

You banged your head on the table, making it shake once before it stilled completely. The library was quiet, or would be, if it weren’t for the way you were scribbling in your notebook, full of doodles and messy handwriting. There was no way you’d be able to learn everything for tomorrow, and time was ticking, leaving you only a few hours before dinner.

Great. You could do it.

One glance at your notes was all it took to make you groan, resisting the temptation to bang your head on the wall this time. Why didn’t you study earlier? Maybe because the goddamn agency needed you. Working here part-time was extremely odd, but you didn’t mind one bit; your colleagues were lovely (most of the time, when tea was ready). However, most of them did not know how to study properly.

One was reckless, never thinking twice before doing something that could lead to an awful, atrocious death. Or maybe he thought twice and was just THAT crazy. I guess we’ll never know. The second one would follow him with a groan followed by heart eyes—mixed signals, if you ask me. That left the last one, who knew best how to work like you had to do right now.

Except he was always busy nowadays. Working on a new case, you all had to be prepared. If one guy HAD to be prepared enough, it was him. One wrong piece of information, and you were all screwed. Mind you, that never happened—knock on wood.

How could you even focus with the smell of cookies, warm and— you knew it—so, so sweet? Your stomach growled, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten for hours. You suddenly stopped doodling mindlessly.

That was NOT Lockwood; he could burn water. That was NOT Lucy, and you could tell from a mile away that those weren’t store-bought. The realization hit you like a cold splash of water—it had to be George.

You stood up immediately and ran to the kitchen, notebook and pen in hand. George was standing by the counter, meticulously arranging a tray of freshly baked cookies. The aroma was heavenly, a perfect blend of chocolate and something else—possibly a hint of caramel.

“You know, staring at your notes like that won’t magically transfer the information into your brain,” George said, his tone laced with his usual sarcasm. He didn’t look up as he continued arranging the cookies, his fingers deftly moving each one into a perfect row.

You sighed. “I know, George. I’m just… overwhelmed. There’s so much to cover and so little time.”

George finally looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Then you’re in luck. I’ve decided to bestow my infinite wisdom upon you. Plus, I’ve got cookies. One for every chapter we review together.”

Your eyes lit up at the mention of cookies. “Really? You’d help me?”

“Don’t look so surprised,” George smirked, handing you a cookie. “I can be quite the Good Samaritan when I want to be. Now, let’s see what you’ve got.”

You handed over your notes, watching as George’s eyes scanned the messy handwriting and doodles. He raised an eyebrow. “Interesting approach to note-taking. Ever considered actually writing down useful information instead of… whatever this is?”

You shrugged, feeling a bit defensive. “For someone who hates hypocrisy, just look at the Thinking Cloth! It helps me think...”

George chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, we’ll work with what you’ve got. First, let’s tackle this chapter on medieval history. Did you know that if you break down the timeline into smaller chunks and associate each with a specific event, it’s easier to remember?”

You nodded, trying to keep up. George’s way of thinking was always so methodical, so precise. It was intimidating at times, but right now, it was exactly what you needed.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notebook, flipping through it quickly. “We’ll use these cookies as mnemonic devices. For example, this cookie shaped like a castle can represent the year the Normans invaded England.”

You took the castle-shaped cookie, turning it over in your hands. “That… actually makes sense. What about the Battle of Hastings?”

George handed you a cookie with a little sword drawn on it with icing. “This one. Every time you think of the Battle of Hastings, think of this cookie. Easy, right?”

You couldn’t help but smile. George’s unconventional methods were starting to make studying seem less daunting. “You know, you’re pretty good at this.”

George shrugged, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Just don’t let it get around. I have a reputation to maintain.”

The two of you settled into a rhythm, reviewing each chapter, associating key events with different cookies. The study session became a game, and with each correct answer, you felt more confident, more prepared.

Hours passed, and you realized you’d covered more ground than you ever thought possible. George’s sarcastic remarks and acerbic sense of humor kept the mood light, making the information easier to digest. By the time you reached the last chapter, the tray of cookies was nearly empty, and you felt a sense of accomplishment.

“See?” George said, handing you the last cookie. “I told you we’d get through it. You just needed the right motivation.”

You took the cookie, feeling a wave of gratitude. “Thanks, George. I really appreciate this.”

He shrugged, looking almost embarrassed. “Don’t mention it. Just make sure you ace that test. I don’t want my efforts to go to waste.”

You laughed, feeling a renewed sense of determination. With George’s help, you knew you could do it. As you packed up your notes, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, studying wasn’t so bad after all—especially when there were cookies involved.

__

Days later, after the test results were posted, you rushed to the bulletin board, heart pounding. There it was—your name, right next to a high score you could scarcely believe.

Feeling a mix of relief and elation, you immediately thought of George. You found him in the library, nose deep in an old, dusty tome about the Problem, George being George.

“George,” you called, a wide grin spreading across your face. “I did it! I aced the test!”

George looked up from his book, his expression as neutral as ever, though you noticed a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Of course you did,” he said with a smirk slowly appearing. “Those cookies weren't for nothing.”

You laughed, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Suddenly, an idea came to mind. “Do you know what we should do to celebrate?”

He stared at you for at least ten seconds, his features still.

“Cookies?”

“Cookies.”

--

I lowkey hate it, but I think it was a nice excercise, thank you for your request! I actually thought about some ideas during an exam, not sure if it was the best thing to do but what's done is DONE.

@neewtmas

(if you want/don't want to be tagged in the future, just tell me!)

[gintrinsic-writing]

Based on this art.

CW: body horror, impending death.

-

Rough bark against his back. Cool moss beneath his trembling fingers. What little light managed to breach the canopy of boughs was carried on the swirling backs of leaf litter motes. Fog curtained the air between trunks, and Link found himself nestled as though within a blanket. A small comfort.

It hurt, even now—short of breath and blood alike; this ultimate transformation from living to dead. His flesh was sunken and pitted, his sagging skin like ribbons of meringue to be feasted upon by the lichen and the insects. Every inhale rattled, every swallow stuck. No moisture remained for his aching eyes. So yes, it hurt, but the pain felt like a promise, like respite, like coming home in a way he couldn’t define but could nevertheless taste and smell and sense and know, even as consciousness threatened to divorce soul.

It was fine. It was meant to be, Link suspected, in some twisting, circling way. He’d first been Kokiri, then Hylian, then Hero. Now, he was to be something other.

Stalfos, Fado had whispered a lifetime ago. He wondered if she’d known.

Time passed in increments and in multitudes. His body withered like the bark of a fallen tree—consumed bit by bit, patiently placid to this un-becoming. Perhaps it was seconds, wasting away, being gnashed upon by mouths both small and microscopic. Perhaps it was minutes. Regardless, as the Hero of Time drew one of his final breaths, there came a voice the memory of which had beckoned his rare, understated smiles for years.

“You’ve returned, friend.”

The Skull Kid approached slowly, respectfully. Their hands flittered as though they could not decide on touch. Finally, they brushed away a strand of Link’s hair. “I knew you would,” they chimed. “I knew you’d come back.”

Link tried to smile for them. His lip split like old parchment. “Did…n’t… know… where else… to… go.”

The Skull Kid tittered like that was funny. “Didn’t know? Didn’t know! Of course you knew. See?” They gestured to the woods around them, snapping their beak in amusement. “You’re here, silly Hylian.” They nodded, apparently pleased, then dragged a claw feather-light down the bridge of Link’s cavitated nose. “This will be a sacred place. A magical place. The forest is singing over you.”

Link closed his eyes to listen. A melody drifted by like a dandelion’s seed, soft and aimless, difficult to catch. It settled what remained of his nerves.

“Yes,” the Skull Kid agreed, “time to let go. No fear.” They grasped Link’s hand, gentler than he’d ever felt before. Their callouses scraped against his bones. “The Lost Woods will welcome you, and we will be friends forever.”

A breeze drifted by, stirring song once more. It took what remained of Link’s breath. He found he did not mind.

“I will stay here until it’s finished,” the Skull Kid continued contently. “You can rest. Rest, rest, rest. When your spirit is full again, I will find you. Rest, friend. Rest.”

And Link did.

[n3kk1tty]

"Imagine being the adopted Daughter of the Sinclair brothers showing up in Travis county one day after buying a piece of land and a home to start a new life for you and your fathers. "

Thomas Hewitt x Reader

Ambrose burned down that night and you were lucky to escape with what you did. Your twin father's clinging to life as tears streamed down your face tearing out of there before the cops could show ripping your family from you. You made sure you wouldn't be followed. No one would find your family and take them from you. You had grabbed what you could in the hours before departure after pulling your father's to safety and killing one of the survivors. You and Lester filled two cars with what you could before setting the whole town ablaze in a finale good bye. Your family home and town in mass flames as nothing would survive. Too many bodies to determine if you all had died in the fire or not.

You were a smart girl and had dreams of one day leaving the nest you just didn't think this is how it would turn out. When your fathers Vincent and Bo came to you were already across Louisiana state lines into Texas with your father Lester following in his truck. In the aftermath your family had found another ghost town to set up in. You were happy your years of prep for a life on the road had paid off as you had a lot of money to spare to help start this new chapter. You were practically tossed the keys to the house and land for cheap as everyone was abandoning this town, happy to sell for nothing. Bo took long to adjust to the change, getting into fits at having nonstop maintenance to do on the house and new garage. While Vincent lamented at the tragedy of what happened and how all his art was gone.

You had managed to snag only a small box of your fathers tools and art journals in the fire but had made sure on a trip to pick him up new art mediums when you went towns over for supplies one day. You remember how hard the quiet man hugged you when you awkwardly showed up in his basement room with a box of different art mediums. Signing to your father while you spoke. " I know it doesn't replace what we lost that night. But maybe it's time to try new mediums just like our new beginning. I love you dad." After that day Vincent would dive into new mediums every time you brought him some. He quickly took up wood carving and mask making to replace his wax prosthetic while using his oil pastels to draw the texas sunsets.

You and your father Lester were the most positive of the family about the move. You did your best to make the house a home and to keep the family together while Lester got work a ways out picking up road kill just like he used to. The only piece of mind with him having such a long commute was the fact Jonesy was always with him and he was just a call away. Your family lived in the quiet town for a few months blissfully unaware of your cannibal neighbors lurking in the ghost town as well. That was until you started frequenting the corner store for goods. Things like nails, cigarettes, and beer became a regular on a trip for you to do as Bo was always asking you to pick up things while he stayed home mumbling to himself.

It wasn't till your third trip did Luda Mae start questioning you. You brought the beer to the counter pointing to the cigarette brand your father liked. " A husband at home who likes to drink and smoke missy?" You let out a small laugh in response to the older woman. " No, no. Sadly not Married nor dating Ma'am these are just for my father. He's been working on our house and having me go fetch him things. " The woman perks up behind the counter. " Working on a house you say. That wouldn't be in this town would it. Ain't hardly anyone left let alone new comers. " You lean across the counter the sweetest smile you could muster in your face.

" We actually like the quietness of the town. Haven't had time to meet our neighbors though after moving in a couple of months ago. We've been too busy trying to get the house in order. I think I have already lost count of the days with how much I've been in my garden or kitchen all day. " The older woman pulls in a seat motioning for you to sit with her at the counter as she interrogates you. " So you like keeping yourself busy? Is it just you and your father and mother in the house, I know I'll be losing track of days myself keeping up with the three boys in my house. "

You laugh as you shyly scratch your head. " No ma'am. Never had a mother before. I'm a little embarrassed to admit it but I'm adopted by three brothers. They kinda found me abandoned when I was younger in this roadkill dumping ground and when they brought me home none of them could decide who the father would be so they are all just kind of my dad's. Now I know that must be a little strange and off putting to most but I sware that's my life. Though I guess legally my Pa Bo is my father as he took me to appointments when I was little. "

The woman could feel her maternal instincts fluttering in her chest as she schemed a way to make you her daughter. Luda Mae was determined to be the mother you never had, or even mother in law. " Oh that sounds like something silly three men would do. Must have been tough growing up with no mother. " You sigh to yourself as you think back to the home you can never return to a sadness hurting your heart. " I mean my father's certainly struggled teaching me to be lady-like. If it wasn't for my dad Vincent I'd probably still be running around in a baseball cap and boy clothes being a wild child. He used to fuss for hours learning how to style my hair like all the other little girls and make me dresses to wear since sometimes money got tight. "

" Oh you poor thing. What brings y'all to Travis? Planning on staying long or are you gonna set out on your own eventually. " Your smile drops as you half heartedly try and smile again at the woman but she can tell that question hurt you. " No, I think I'll stay here with my dad's. Our last home was burned down thanks to burglars and we barely made it out alive. I'm just doing my best to hold my family together. They are all I've ever known and I wanna keep them safe. I should probably be heading back before the beer gets warm."

Luda Mae walks you back to your car patting your back as you finish your chatting. " Well you know men. If you don't tell them to take a break they will work themselves ragged. My old man Bo is probably fiddling in his garage or in the house again. I'd love to come by for a visit, Miss Luda and give a proper introduction since we're neighbors. Maybe I should bring some dessert for your boys. " The woman smiled as you started the car up. " Oh (Y/n) I think my Tommy would fancy meeting you. " A blush and a nervous laughter arises as you remember back to the last time you attempted romance and how Bo and Vincent nearly made him a wax figure in Ambrose.

" I'd be charmed to meet him. I'll be seeing you around ma'am don't work yourself to hard. " After that day Luda Mae became determined to hook Tommy up with you. You were the perfect candidate for her son. The list of womanly house chores you could do was phenomenal and you were a sweet family oriented girl who was pretty to boot. The next visits to the shop you brang the old woman all sorts of things while you two spend the time chatting away. Like homegrown veggies, or fruit you snagged outta town, you even brought her some embroidery you did while learning with Vincent. All things Luda Mae appreciated and shown how you were the perfect daughter in law for her. She brought the things home showing them to Tommy talking his ear off about how she found him a bride finally and the man was excited just to get a look at you.

Hoyt caught wind of the newcomers in town and decided since he was the sheriff he might as well introduce his authority. Luda Mae almost took his family jewels though stating that you were Tommy's and Tommy's alone so to keep his hands off her future daughter in law as the man got ready to drive over. It took the whole Hewitt family to stop Tommy from hopping in the back of the car to catch a peek. Luda Mae had to assure him that you'd meet in due time but she was buttering you up for your new position.

At your house you had snagged bees to add to your new little farms addition so you were attending to your helpers. There wasn't much food out here and you and Lester were the only ones bringing in money so you figured homesteading was good enough to keep your family fed and happy. Trips out to town were long and tedious like Ambrose but you made do with selling things at the farmers market to help bring home ends meat. Your little farm had rabbits, chickens, and bees for wax now. You beamed in pride up at the window as Vincent signed to you. " Bees ? For wax ? Bee- careful not to get stung. "

You laughed at your fathers joke as you smiled as you signed back to him. " Very funny Dad. " Suddenly a cop car came rushing down the pebble road to your home. You freeze in fear as Vincent takes notice of your face rushing to grab Bo and his tools as your brain rushed with the thought that your family had been found. You were panicking. How did they find you. There was no way anything survived that fire or the victims could pin point you. Your eyes darkened as you grabbed the knife in your apron pocket. No one would take your family from you without paying with their life first. The sheriff hopped out the car standing in the driveway to your porch as you stood in your gardeners outfit and sunhat before him. " Well hello sheriff what brings you all the way out here?"

" Well I sheriff Hoyt would be surprised that we have newcomers in town who haven't even met their local police officers yet. Luda Mae has been chatting up a storm about you missy and I figured since I'm the sheriff of our small town it only makes sense to get to know who I'm protecting. " Your grip loosens from the knife in your apron as you let out a relieved sigh. " Well my goodness sheriff what an honor it is you drove all the way here to meet us. I'm sorry I would have been dressed a lot nicer if I knew someone so important was coming. Why don't you get outta the heat sir. That uniform must be blazing in this heat I'll go grab my father and some lemonade to cool you off. " The man's ego felt extremely boosted by your demeanor as he took a seat in the rocking chair on the porch.

You rushed inside in time to stop your twin father's from rushing out the door to mangle the sheriff. You push your hands on their chest signing out with your hands what's happening just so you know no one can hear. " It's just one of Luda Mae's boys. The lady from the store said her son was the sheriff. He isn't here for us, just to introduce. " Bo stares down grumbling as he wipes his hands clean of car grease. " Guess we should make peace with our neighbors. Stay outta it if things go south though. Understand. " You smile at him as you go to the kitchen Vincent following behind as you shout to the man. " I will Pa. You want beer or lemonade?" You laugh as Bo replies back lemonade is fine as he doesn't wanna share his booze with the sheriff just yet.

The front door swings open as Bo towers over the man on the porch. His face switches to a smile as he walks over to the sheriff sticking his somewhat cleaned hands out. " Well hello there sir. How kind of you to stop by. I'm Bo Sinclair the man of the house. Sorry about the car grease, was working on my truck. " The sheriff shakes his hand as he looks the man up and down. At least they weren't bikers or hippies he thought as the pair sit down making small talk as you bring drinks out. The two spend hours shooting the shit almost bonding over there disdain of the bikers in town. They talk about the town and its history while Bo eventually offers to fix up the sheriff's car as it looks like it could use a look under the hood.

By the time the old men are done chatting and taking a look at the car discussing Bo fixing up cars for the sheriff and splitting profits off of car scraps Lester and Jonesey are making it up the drive way for dinner. Hoyt ended up meeting the whole strange Sinclair family that night as he stayed for dinner. Fresh veggies and beautifully seasoned food with dessert and beer. The man almost didn't want to leave and agreed with Luda Mae your family's would be best together through you and Tommy's future wedding. Though Hoyt wouldn't tell your fathers as the twins were built out of brick and Lester was proud to show off his roadkill job so winning the Sinclair's favor was the Hewitts plan.

That night Hoyt went home with a full stomach and plenty of leftovers as your rabbits were well multiplying like rabbits. The sheriff tossed the leftovers plate to Tommy as he patted the boy on the back saying he was lucky. " We found you a good one boy. Gonna have to marry that one so me and my future business partner can keep bringing good meals like this home. " Tommy nearly licked the plate clean as the cucumber salad and roasted rabbit were heavenly on his tongue and when he got to the Mississippi mud pie on the plate he almost wanted to run over there now and officiate the wedding. Tommy was even more excited as Hoyt told him not to worry about his face as your father Vincent had a birth defect to his face as well. Talking about how if Tommy asked he would probably make him one of those fancy prosthetics to boot.

The first time you met the giant guard dog of the Hewitts was on the faithful day you invited them all over for dinner. The Summer heats had been rough but you Sinclair's had made your new home finally to your liking and it only took half a year. Hoyt and Bo were thick as thieves in their car business. Your garden was flourishing as you did wonderfully at the farmers markets selling off eggs, rabbits, and flowers. On rare occasions you'd sell art that Vincent made. All the Sinclair's had pulled together and were now financially stable again and adjusted to their new lives. The past may have burned down but the new peace you had you wouldn't trade for the world.

Maybe Ambrose going up in smoke was the blessing you all needed as it took with it the past bad memories as well as the good. Along with the Sinclair's doing good that meant the Hewitts got to thrive off of your generosity as well. Luda Mae spent hours making Tommy scrub off blood and dirty from his body to be presentable for your first meeting. You had brought the woman many fancy soaps from your trips to town and she was currently doing her best to make the man smell like roses. She even went out of her way to trim back his hair and freshen his clothes. With the last spray of stolen cologne the Hewitts were piling into the new fixed up car they had fixed up by Bo.

When they arrived the porch was lit up with fairy lights and the old Texas farmhouse was now as beautiful as it ever was. New paint and many maintenance later with your adding of decorations and dried herbs on the porch the Sinclair's property was the prettiest in Travis county. How either family never broached the topic of murder was a mystery as it wasn't like Bo wasn't making people disappear for car parts and cash when they wandered into your property. Can't have his new sheriff friend being crossed with him but the Sinclair's weren't going to let anyone take their new home from them. While the Hewitts kept with keeping their freezer stocked.

Both families stood in front of each other smiling while their dark secrets made them even more similar than they thought. Tommy nervously handing you a bouquet of wild flowers he picked while you tried talking to the behemoth. The Hewitts made themselves comfortable in your living room while they talked your fathers up. The same fathers who kept glaring down the Hewitt boy any time they thought he was stepping out of line with their beloved daughter. You two were watched like a hawk as Tommy nervously fiddled with his dress shirt while you softly talked to him trying to get him to look at you. Gentle hands felt his forearms as he tried to communicate back but couldn't as he was unable.

The Sinclair brothers watched like guard dogs around their daughter as you sat with Tommy on the couch teaching how to use sign language to communicate with you. Jonesey sat by you getting pets as you taught him how to sign dog. You liked the sweet man you did. He was shy and big but he was a gentleman to you as electric shot through your heart every time you touched. The Hewitts plan was working and you and Tommy were just in the beginning stages of your love story they thought. The two family's after that night became thick as theives. You and Tommy were paired together most days then not afterwards as the boy would get so excited he would happily do the long walk to your property just to see you.

Even if his help wasn't needed he would be there for an hour so you could teach him sign while Vincent worked away on a better prosthetics for your boyfriend to be. Every time this boy lumbered up the porch he'd bring you a gift and be as clean as possible while happily making noises at you. You even started sneaking off to the Hewitts under the guise of helping Luda Mae in her own garden and home just to see Tommy. Under the Texas heat love bloomed in the air and the families grew closer and closer together. You were so close it was becoming harder to hide each other's secrets.

It all came out in the open one day though when one of the victims came out of the basement when Bo and you were over to help. They came running out covered in blood begging you for help in the kitchen with you and Luda Mae in the middle of pickling. They yanked you away while swinging the knife at the old woman shouting for everyone to hear that the Hewitts were monsters and you should leave. The old woman panicked begging for you not to leave coming up with excuses as the victim lunges at her. With a swift wack of a cast iron they were slumped in the floor as you made work to cutting the vocals cords and Achilles tendon in the poor thing.

Luda Mae stood in shock as her sweet gentle future daughter in law was blankly using a knife to finish the girl off making sure she wasn't gonna be causing a fuss anymore. You stood above her as you looked at the old woman, blood smearing your face as you laughed. " Guess our families are a lot more alike than I thought Luda Mae. " Bo and Hoyt came sprinting into the room noticing the blood and girl on the floor as Hoyt was prepared for the worst of having to fight his friend before the mechanic gave an approving chuckle. " That's my girl. Quick and effective. Well come on Hoyt the ladies can't keep pickling with this bitch on the floor so let's get it cleaned up. I'm hungry for some lunch too. Would y'all ladies mind making us men something. "

After that the families solidified a friendship between the two Travis County quickly became a place for people to disappear and die. The Sinclairs did not partake in the cannibalism like their friends but they would gladly help lure victims or finish people off. The families were always at each other's places to help and soon we're even helping fix up the corner store and the Hewitt home. Life was peaceful and eventually Tommy got the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend. Through the little sign language he did know under a southern live oak tree Thomas Hewitt asked for you to be his girlfriend.

You gleefully said yes as you tackled the man down to the ground placing a loving kiss to his face. You two hid under your tree from your prying families as you spent the evening in each other's arms giggling away as you exchanged kisses and bated breath. Your life in Ambrose may have been destroyed in that fire that night but you wouldn't trade your new beginning for the world. A fire could destroy the past but it also could warm your heart to the new future to come.

This was an idea in my head after I rewatched both movies. If y'all want more of Thomas Hewitt X Sinclair daughter make sure to let me know or if you want more Sinclair Daughter posts in the future.

[wintry--mix]

Sooooo after that last drawing sort of introducing you all to that new project of mine, I figured another good way to introduce it would be a good meme. So I went over and picked up something from @draw-the-squad-like-this , and lo and behold:

(I like to imagine this is from the POV of their boss after she assigned them both to a mission, forgetting that whenever forced to collaborate, these 2 normally competent people are reduced to sharing a singular brain cell)

OCs:

Blue haired guy in suit - Saber (he/him)

Collapsed green one - Calypso (she/they)

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!