#head canon stuff coming soon i promise

[caycanteven]

Here ya go, take some Bal sustenance.

You feel like you're being judged...but he just really appreciates how awesome you look today.

#my art #sans #sans au #undertale au #caycantdoodle #caycantdraw #Balsam Sans #Horrorfell Sans #lexverse #Bal Sans #this was supposed to be ONLY a sketch really #but i got excited #and carried away #now im just simping over him #he'd lean over and tell you ya look nice all quiet like #no eye contact necessary #and when you get flustered he would crack the tiniest smile #head canon stuff coming soon i promise

[randomshyperson]

Old Yellow Bricks - Heart Shaped Series

Chapter Summary: The conclusion to the adventures of an international thief and an Avenger witch. Or the one where you stop skipping work, Valentina answers the phone and Wanda does an ultrasound.

Warnings: (+18), smut (wanda taking the lead ‘cause that’s hot), bl*wjob, unprotected s*x, creampie, more shapeshifting stuff, some supervillain drama, minor angst with a happy ending I promise. | Words: 7.094k

A/N-> Hey folks, yes, I know I disappeared for a long time but I was so busy and mentally exhausted that I couldn't keep writing anymore, and I used practically half of my vacation just to get a decent amount of sleep. This story was almost abandoned, but I decided to give it an ending, even if it was a bit hasty, out of affection for the plot and out of consideration for those who have followed it up until now. I hope you aren't too dissatisfied with the ending, I tried to address any loose ends and leave it open to the canon we already know. Good reading.

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3 | Series Masterlist

-&-

It shouldn't come as a surprise that you got caught. But you did, mainly because for the past weeks you've felt so comfortable around Wanda that for a moment, you weren't you. No international bounty for your head, not gangs or supervillains or big schemes. 

Just you and Wanda.

Your small argument with the Black Widow was to blame for your distracted state, but fairly, those men were probably following you for a while now, just waiting for the right opportunity to show themselves.

They weren’t aggressive, despite everything. You're just walking a little further from the hotel and this Van - Strategically hidden with paintings from a pest control service - was parked next to the sidewalk and you immediately knew. The door opened and nobody came out. 

It was an invitation.

You took a deep breath and a last glance at the street before getting in.

The face of one of Valentina's most trustworthy henchmen, Mrs. Cassian Camorra,  came to focus in the poorly lit car. He was not alone, masked guards armed to the teeth took every other seat. The only vacant spot was for you.

With a discreet shift, there was no longer much difference between your muscles and theirs. The change made the white-collar man chuckle at you.

“There's no need for that, reaper.” Says Cassian with a smirk. “We're not here for a fight.”

You stare at him with an indifferent expression, lifting your chin a little. 

“The Guns send a different message.” You say but he smiles again just before nodding to the others, who immediately relax their alarmed posture even though they continue to listen to the conversation. In that small space, it would be impossible to do anything else.

You don't let your guard down but sigh once your eyes meet Cassian’s again.

“I don't go by that name anymore, Cass, you know that.”

He chuckles. “Would you prefer shithead?” He teases but you roll your eyes, wishing this conversation would end soon. He laughs again at your expression. “I still don't understand why you would be ashamed of one of your greatest achievements. The Reaper was a goddamn legend! The name gave people the chills!” He recalls excitedly. 

You swallow, shifting in your seat. “Just tell me what you are here for.” You cut his enthusiasm with a sharp demand, managing to make your voice deeper. The security guard next to him has this immediate reaction of touching his gun, but you offer him a cocky smirk before focusing on Cassian again.

He adjusts his suit, one of his hands moving to his jacket pocket to grab something. A small purple cart is extended to you but you don't move a muscle.

“I'm not looking for a job at the moment.” You tell him but he chuckles, flipping the card to show you the back of it.

You thought it was the traditional mission paper with a coding at the back, for you to find target information but instead of that habitual info, there's a written number there.

“The Countess asks to meet in person.”

You don't grab the card. “If that is what she wants, then why didn't she come here herself?”

The man chuckles, and without giving a damn about the concept of personal space, he moves his hands to find your pocket and shove the card inside.

“The Countess is a clever woman, child. Why on earth would she talk business with your new superhero friends around?”

“They are not my friends.” You mutter, pushing his hands away with a slap before pulling the card out of your pocket. “And if she really wished to see me, her face would be the one to welcome me into this car.”

But when you make mention of getting up, Cassian loses some of the calm facade he kept so far. 

“Sit your spoiled ass back right now, kid.” The bodyguards in the two seats behind you grab you by the shoulders, but their hands move away once you are back at your spot so you don't try to start a new fight. “This is the problem with Valentina's little freaks. You all think you're special. She's too soft with your type, so you grow confident in your insignificance. Let me tell you what's going to happen if you don't take this cordial invitation seriously, Lady Fontaine. Every favor for your protection, every deal, is off. You won't be CIA protégée anymore, you'll be on your own. For once in your life. That might talk some sense into your head.”

The anger is burning in your chest because of the cruel words but it spreads around with shame and guilt. Tears beg their way to your eyes but you keep your cheeks dry.

“I've been alone my whole life, Cass. You don't know shit.”

But he laughs, truly, as if you're joking.

“Alone? You? Hydra's golden egg goose?” He mocked managing some chuckles from his colleagues. “You're the one who doesn't know shit, you brat. You have no idea what people like us would do to have the kind of protection you so proudly display without a second thought. The mansions, the travels, the luxury. All that money. And don’t get me started on the attitude. The rest of us living in the gutter, trying to survive out of crumbs while freaks like you get to walk around like you own the world.” He narrates with a trace of bitterness and contained hatred that makes you shudder.  “How many times have you walked out of prison? Do you think it's the same for the rest of us? That we get those same privileges?”

Some redness escapes to your cheeks but you manage to keep your cool.

“I have no power over how things happen in our line of work, Cass. And I am hardly the one you should be angry at. Those privileges you say, believe me, they came at a very high price.”

But Cassian rolls his eyes, dismissing your words with a hand gesture. “Fragile. You always have been. Crybaby should be your next nickname.”

You sigh impatiently and this time, when you move to open the door and leave the car, they allow it without any fight. Standing on the sidewalk, you hear Cass hold the door open and look at him one last time.

He leans for one last warning. “If you ignore her invitation, she will have her answer. And we will be back, this time, not for a conversation.” He lets you know with a little smile that makes you shallow hard. The possibility of putting Wanda in danger makes your heart miss a beat. And when Cass lets out a small exclamation as if remembering something, you somehow know it's not a good thing. He searches in his other pocket only to take a small photo.

“Almost forgot. She asked me to give you this. A gesture of trust, she said.”

But that was nothing trustworthy about Valentina being aware of you and Wanda's relationship, especially for such a long time. The picture is from a security camera and is clear by the poor definition, but still, that day is still fresh in your mind as if it happened yesterday. The Avengers fair you once infiltrate to find Wanda, only for her to end any plan you might had or ever could by kissing you. Inside those tents you were safe but outside, the camera caught the last kiss you stole from her before your departure.

The fact that Valentina knew about this, for so long, makes you feel sick in your stomach.

You don't take the picture - it's a symbol of the false freedom you possessed under Valentina's wigs. You storm off and hear the agents giggling and muttering threats before the car is gone, and so are you when you make a curve that takes you back to the hotel parking lot.

The whole thing made your blood boil. How dare she? What was she even after, what did that photo even mean? Was it a treat? Or it could really be a gesture of trust? Something like, yes she knew and she never did anything about it, so maybe Valentina doesn't want your complete misery.  But then again, you know her well enough to tell that every action she takes is a well-planned one. If she knew about your relationship with Wanda and allowed that with no fuss other than a small bait in the first weeks, telling you to read Avengers files in an attempt to get you away from Wanda, then for sure, Valentina had a bigger plan. 

And for once in your life, you're done with being the pawn.

Wanda's asleep when you're back in your shared motel room so you do your best to keep it quiet on your way to the bathroom.

This will be painful but you're confident you can manage, with your powers help at least.

The small device hidden under your ribs is a high-tech tracker and it's your last physical connection to your old life. It doesn't work unless you want it to, because it answers to a biological stimulation only you can provide. Baron von Strucker gave this to you as a work tool, if you were ever captured, you could call for help without anyone being aware.

You haven't tried to use the device purposefully in years, but sometimes, when being too hurt, it would activate on its own. And because it's quite easy to forget a hidden object behind your ribs, it occurred to you that it has been active since you bled out in Greece, the same day Wanda called to tell you she was pregnant.

The realization that Valentina was aware of your location for so long, Wanda's and her friends especially, rips a sob to your throat. It’s more painful to know you’ve been putting her in danger than the open wound.

You muffle down your crying the second you hear the bed shifting. But luckily Wanda doesn't wake up. Taking a deep breath, your shaky hands keep doing the hard work - to cut open with a medical kit's scalpel your skin so you can remove the tracker.

It's painful of course but it ends quickly. You don't need a badge but it does take a lot of energy to heal on your own so when you're finally back at the bed, after destroying the little device with a squeeze, storing everything else, and getting clean, you're quite exhausted. Stumbling around, you do a poor job of laying down without much noise.

Your girlfriend only grumbles sleepy in return before her magic brings you closer to her body.

-&-

“Wake up.”

It's less gentle than previous attempts, but Wanda had to do it. You were really disturbed in your sleep - mumbling and sweating as if you were running.

Your restlessness and discomfort disturbed her greatly, but she gives you a tender smile as she sees all the tension ease when you meet her eyes.

Sleepily, you close your eyes again the next moment and Wanda takes the opportunity to move the sweaty hair away from your face.

"You were having a nightmare." She mumbles, and she's almost sitting on your lap so you think that it would be a waste to miss the opportunity. Your hands bring her into the position with ease, but Wanda has concern on her face. "Talk to me, detka."

A smile fills your lips, and you remain in a half-asleep state. "I love it when you call me that. You're so lovely, Wanda."

A faint blush fills your cheeks, but Wanda is determined to clarify a few things. "You came back late and as big as a bodyguard. I want to know what happened." She says, and seeing you sigh with your eyes closed, she frowns her heart racing. "Did you find trouble?"

"No, everything's fine." You retort quickly, stubbornly. And Wanda tilts her head incredulously at the clear lie. You finally look her in the eye, and she thinks it's unfair that you're such a pretty liar. Unable to hold her gaze, you look away, the flush on your face more from embarrassment than anything else. "It was nothing." You correct, annoyed, and Wanda sighs at the whole thing. She hopes that one day, your barriers won't have to be so raised all the time and you'll be able to trust her by instinct. But considering the kind of life you've led so far, maybe something like that is just impossible to achieve. 

She moves one of her hands to your face, caressing the skin tenderly. "If you can't put it into words, let me see."

You close your eyes again, nodding, and the invasion is almost immediate. The whole thing happens very quickly - Wanda is getting better at it. Accessing last night's memories is easy, the hard part is dealing with their significance.

When she comes to her senses, the room comes into focus again and so does your turned-away face. Pure guilt and shame in your expression.

"I'm sorry." You say promptly, your voice a bit tearful. " I keep fucking things up. I brought them to us because I forgot the damn tracking, and I got everyone in danger. I understand if you're angry and want to shout at me."

Wanda sighs at the words, shaking her head. "No one's going to be yelling at anyone." She says, her hands moving lower to pull your shirt up a little. She traces the new scar, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders as she sees that, apparently, you've healed fine. 

"Don't ever do anything like this again." She says, and you sniffle.

"That was the only trace I had-"

"Not that." She cuts in seriously, waiting for you to look at her. Wanda looks more hurt than angry and that confuses you. "You can't just self-harm in the bathroom and sew yourself back up in silence. You have to tell me things. You should let me take care of you, all right?"

Aware that the warmth spreading through your chest is quickly creeping up your neck and ears, you give up on putting together a coherent sentence. You nod quickly, and Wanda gives a weak laugh.

"I'm not angry." She continues, adjusting your shirt again, although her hands remain underneath, drawing patterns on your skin as she speaks. "You're always so... jumpy. And you get into trouble like it's second nature. And you're so incredibly stubborn-"

"Thanks." You grumble ironically, but your annoyance turns into a choke when you feel Wanda shift in your lap. It's an intentional fit at your hips, she's probably noticed the bulge you'd forgotten you were even carrying now. And the fit takes the air out of your lungs and makes your body jerk gently, waking you up completely. 

Wanda doesn't pay a second's attention to your reactions as she continues to talk. "You also have this habit of not letting me finish my sentences." She says with a little grin, her eyes dilating as your breathing starts to get heavy. "And I have to admit that you're hard work, but darling, you're worth every second of that effort. I wish I could take all the pain out of your past, but since I can't, I need you to understand that you're no longer dealing with things on your own. That I'm as devoted to you as you are to me."

These are romantic, intense, and considerate words. But Wanda is grinding slowly against your hips as she says them and you can only return a desperate nod, a deep moan tearing its way into your throat.

Wanda won't even let you lead - Your hands grab her barely covered ass through the oversized shirt she's stolen from you in an attempt to intensify the friction, but bright magic threads pull your wrists away in the next second. 

With your hands pinned to the headboard, you can only squirm at the mercy of the woman on top of you.

"You feel bigger than last time, baby." She whispers, almost losing her train of thought during a particularly hard thrust against your hips. You struggle to breathe.

But Wanda stops, and you bite back a sigh of frustration as you stare at her in a mixture of desperation and curiosity. She works with a certain urgency on your underwear, but instead of rewarding you with her warm cunt, she moves away until she's between your legs, her nails scratching your thighs.

"W-wanda, what are you doing?" You ask, suddenly very shy, your eyes slightly wide. She giggles, as her magic removes your underwear completely, and she leans in, planting kisses on your thighs that make you shiver.

Her dominant hand finally grabs your length and it's not very gentle so you let out something between a moan and a whimper and Wanda looks at you with a certain regret.

"Sorry, babe." She says softly, still holding you now more carefully. "I've never done this before."

Your mouth is dry, and your eyes want to close and just enjoy the sensation, but you fight these instincts to speak. "Done what, Wanda?"

She giggles mischievously, and her hand moves slowly, giving a tentative squeeze that makes the muscles in your thigh twitch. "You know what." She says in return, although you both share the strong blush on the cheeks, Wanda seems more confident about what she's about to do. "It can't be that hard. And if I do something wrong, you can just tell me to stop."

"Wanda, you don’t have to-" But she leans in, and unceremoniously takes your member into her mouth. You break down in an aroused sob, arching up on the bed. 

It's heaven, you're sure. Wanda Maximoff decided to wake you up with a blowjob, it’s a gift from the heavens that you must definitely don’t deserve but you won’t complain. You struggle against the magical chains just as you struggle to breathe and not to come immediately when Wanda continues to suck you off. 

It's sloppy at first - as she mentioned, she had never done that before. But the lack of practice doesn't make the act any less deliriously enjoyable. You feel very close very quickly and have to use all your concentration when Wanda meets your gaze, mouth full.

"Jesus." You groan, your whole body vibrating. Wanda pulls back, licking the tip and your eyes roll back. "Fuck."

She revels in your moans as much as she does in the whole thing. She can feel her own core throbbing at seeing you so pathetically at her mercy, but she wants you to finish first. Her hand moves to help and with each lick of the head leaking pre-cum, your body jerks in a way that makes the bed shake.

"Come on, baby, you can cum." She encourages you firmly as she alternates between sucking and licking. "You need this. And I got you."

You cry out the warning, and Wanda takes your whole length so as not to waste a drop. Your back arches on the bed, and the hot shot is deep into her throat. Wanda moans in return, making a mess all around as you try to return to orbit, your chest heaving and your body jerking.

She kisses your now flaccid member, biting back a smile as she watches the final throbs. Taking advantage of your state, Wanda resumes her previous position on your lap. Her magic fades from your wrists.

Just the brief rubbing of her thick thighs against you is enough for Wanda to feel you harden again.

"Are you sure, babe? You're still shaking." She asks teasingly, but all you give in return is an affected chuckle, your hands helping her to settle into you. The invasion happens slowly, and Wanda groans satisfied at the proof that yes, you are bigger. The stretching is gentle, and it's not painful because she's soaked, but it's still there and she has to bite her lips as she slowly sinks down until you bottom up.

Panting together, you watch her adoringly, your hands on her hips helping her move.

Wanda doesn't rush things. She rides you leisurely, feeling every inch of your cock inside her warm walls until the slowness is too overwhelming. 

Her hands rest on your shoulders, and you don't care that her nails are digging into your skin because Wanda feels too good for you to think of any other sensation than that tight pussy wrapping around you.

She holds your gaze, and between the grunts and moans she lets you know; "I love you." You can only nod, trying to gasp the same when Wanda suddenly bounces harder.

One of your hands grips with more strength, enough to mark the skin and she has to grab the headboard for a firmer support.

You groan at her nearly roughness; "Easy, woman." You try, even though she's grinding vigorously and the room has started to spin. "Wanda, damn it. Be more... ah... careful. You're pregnant...slow down… God."

She comes first, which is a surprise because you honestly don't know how you managed to hold it for so long.

You're still coming inside her when she collapses on top of you, falling down against your shoulder. But then there's satisfied laughter filling the room, and a joke about that being a very incredible way to start a day.

-&-

It's decided that you guys need to move as soon as you and Wanda are properly dressed and Wanda has encouraged you to be honest with the other Avengers.

And she also doesn't need to be a mind reader to know that there's something wrong with Natasha, who doesn't offer more than a mumble of agreement and doesn't say anything about you keeping a tracker jammed in your ribs all this time. 

While Wanda goes out to buy breakfast for the team, you stay behind and busy yourself packing the bags. But she is recognized at the grocery store near the motel when she tries to buy breakfast. It's just a child and her older sister, wanting photos with an Avenger, but it still causes her so much anxiety that she goes back to the bedroom with something more than food: a box of hair dye.

"I thought I'd follow Natasha's idea." That's what she gives as an explanation, and you laugh confusedly but end up believing it until Wanda has bleached spots and ends up confessing what really made her late. 

You're standing in the doorway, and she's focused on painting her hair, her eyes meeting yours through the reflection in the bathroom mirror.

"I'm sorry for not saying it right away. I just didn't want to worry you." 

You let out a sigh before offering her a small smile. "No problem, love." You assure her, reaching over to pick up the empty box of the product and read some of the labeling on the back. "I'm more concerned about whether pregnant women can dye their hair."

Your comment makes Wanda giggle. Her magic continues the process of coloring the spots, and she busies herself with washing her hands at the sink. 

"Well, most pregnant women can't manipulate energy and move things with their minds. I think I'll survive." She jokes back, sticking her tongue out at you when you smile. It ends up being a small grimace battle before you return the empty box to the garbage can and lean in to steal a kiss from her.

Wanda smiles through it, but her cold, wet hands reach under your blouse and make you jump. She laughs at the reaction, and you can barely notice the time passing as you play with each other and wait for the dye to finish settling on your locks.

When Wanda disappears back into the bathroom for a while, you wait for her to finish washing her hair and nothing really prepares you for the new look. Your girlfriend is slightly shy as she reappears, the towel still slung over her shoulders.

"So, what do you think?" She asks about the red hair and you swallow dry, speechless. Wanda blushes immediately, a nervous giggle escaping her lips. "What?"

"You look..." Your voice fails you and you have to clear your throat. "Really beautiful."

Wanda smiles, but then raises an eyebrow, gesturing gently in your direction. "It does seem that you truly like it, dear, I'm flattered."

You blink in confusion, before following her gaze and noticing your own body, and the bulge in your pants. Grinning in embarrassment, you quickly cover yourself with the nearest pillow. "Sorry." You mumble with your ears burning, but Wanda giggles, glancing quickly at the ajar door.

"I wonder if we still have time before we leave." She comments, scarlet threads appearing through the wood with the thought of closing it, but as if guessing the intentions of a delay, the door suddenly opens and Captain Rogers is practically pushed inside by Natasha.

"Nice change, Maximoff. But I hope your suitcases are ready." That's what the widow said, and she looked stressed, most likely because of all the stories about her adventures the night before. If your embarrassment over the tracker story wasn't enough, there was the other one you were trying to hide under your pillow. Wanda disguised it better than you, nodding quickly to the widow and gesturing toward the ready backpacks. "Steve can you take these to the quinjet please, I want to have a word with Romeo and Juliet."

The Captain sighed, trying to ignore being made a baggage handler - Muscles must be good for something - and offered you and Natasha a sympathetic look before leaving the room.

The widow closed the door but you spoke first. “Listen Nat, if this is a second scolding for the tracker, I've already made sure it can't be retraced and-"

"That's not it." She interrupts you with a certain determination, then a forced smile. "I've found a doctor for you. For Wanda, to be more exact."

The now red-haired woman gives Nat a surprised look and it's you who asks; "Are you sure it's safe? Risking a medical appointment in the situation we're in."

"You underestimate me."

"I didn't mean it like that."

But Nat smiles genuinely, shrugging. She checks her watch.

"We're actually going to meet her. Apart from Banner, she's the only doctor I trust."

You and Wanda exchange a look before nodding to Natasha in thanks. Your girlfriend then asks; "That's not all you wanted to talk about, is it Nat?"

The widow nods, seeming to get upset for a moment.

"I'm not saying this for the tracker story, I swear I'm not, but... maybe it's better if Y/N doesn't stay with us anymore."

Wanda snorts indignantly, ready to protest, especially as you lower your head. 

"We stay together-"

"I know." Natasha cuts off Wanda's defensiveness with a sigh. "I wouldn't expect otherwise." She mutters, taking a deep breath to gather her courage. "Rogers doesn't agree, you know how protective he is over you. I mean, he was pretty indignant when Tony tried to ground you in the Tower. Anyway, that's not the point. Clint left. He accepted a decent deal until things settle down, and yes, they will settle down. I know it feels like our world has turned upside down overnight, but we need to remember why the Avengers were created in the first place. It's only a matter of time before they need us, all of us again, and maybe it's experience talking, but I've seen so many governments collapse and rise again. I have seen this movie before."

The widow vents and you and Wanda don't have the heart to interrupt her. 

"What I mean is that Clint can make a deal for his family, and maybe you can do the same."

Wanda thinks for a moment until she swallows. "I'm not an agent with years of military service to my credit. General Ross would never offer me a deal."

"Not him. And not to you." Natasha retorts, turning her face towards you.

You sigh deeply as you understand exactly what she's implying. " Is there really no other option?"

Natasha gives you a sympathetic smile. "That's not an ultimatum, mercenary. Just think about it. None of us wants a pregnant woman in the life of a fugitive, and don't make that face Wanda, I know you don't want the baby to be in danger either." Your girlfriend begrudgingly shuts up, knowing that the widow is right. "Just give it a thought. Melina has agreed to do the prenatal care, so you have all this time to make a decision."

Natasha nods in farewell before heading out the door, and you turn to Wanda.

"Do you have any idea who Melina is?"

-&-

In the safety of the Quinjet and the untraceable lines of the Avengers, you call Contessa Fontaine.

The first thing Valentina says when she sees your face in the high-definition hologram is a scolding; "That tracker was worth a billion dollars."

You have to laugh, your back resting on the cold metal of the ship. "Can't say I'm sorry, boss. Having a tracker in the middle of your ribs doesn't scream work ethic."

She gives a short laugh, and you realize from the surroundings that she's in the private room of the Fontaine Mansion, a place you've been to countless times before.

"What can I do for you, my dear child?" She asks, slightly impatient. You swallow dry.

"Your people said you wanted to see me." You comment. 

Valentina laughs wryly. "Oh, yes, in person. Not talking through an Avengers line. You must have lost your mind."

"There are no more Avengers, Val, you know that." You retort, and she smiles in satisfaction.

"Touche." She mutters before raising her bright eyes to you. "But let me guess, they're listening to this conversation."

You sigh impatiently. "What difference does it make? I've been with them for weeks. I could have told them all the secrets I know about your work, but I didn't. Just as you didn't inform General Ross of their location. So how about we stop playing games?"

Valentina gives another evil little laugh, nodding. "Oh, dear, I miss our conversations, you're always so direct and attentive. Yes, I didn't hand over Team America to Ross, because unlike that arrogant fool, I have no interest in seeing our heroes trapped in the Raft. Only someone like Ross and his ballistics background would think of something as stupid as taking out Earth's main line of defense for threats we have no means of dealing with." You remain silent at Val's words, and she takes a breath to continue. "You know me, Y/N. I like my... enhanced ones. I understand the grandeur of this new world, men like Ross, impressionable with colored rifles, don't."

"So... you've been trying to help the Avengers?"

She breaks into a laugh. "Help? Don't go that far." She retorts grinning. "Let's say we had allied objectives up to the present moment. And I have no reason to put them out of work, you know? In any case, perhaps a little time out of the spotlight and struggling will lower some of their egos. It's a shame that Mr. Stark always seems to shrug off the consequences of his actions, he could learn something without having billions to spare."

You sigh without patience for the speech, adjusting your body. "Val, speaking of money-"

"Oh, it's about time."

With a short laugh, you continue; "I need mine."

She looks at you for a moment, before smiling. "Your money has always been yours to use. Nothing has changed."

But you force a smile, not quite believing it. "Everything has changed, Val. I don't want Lady Fontaine's money. I don't want to be one of your pawns. I want a new account, a new life. With everything I've worked to earn."

"And what makes you think I can give it to you?"

You snort, rubbing a stress point on your forehead. "Please, Val, don't take me for someone naïve, who doesn't know the extent of your influence."

But Valentina sighs deeply, resting her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, to look at you intently.

"In fact, I'm beginning to think that your naivety is indeed remarkable and, unfortunately, my responsibility." She comments, and you chuckle ironically and indignantly, but she doesn't let you question it. "There is no new beginning for you, Y/N. Not the way you're asking me, not the way you really want. You're deluding yourself if you think I can bring in false documents and billions of dollars without anyone ever finding out the truth. That's not how things work. The bill always comes, and a past so stained with red always catches up with people like us." She says and you swallow, not having the heart to interrupt when you know deep down that she's not lying. Despite her seriousness, Valentina's gaze softens: "I know it's not what you wanted to hear, but all is not lost. You've been walking around for weeks with someone who committed as many atrocities as you did, and yet have been allowed to experience the greatest version of freedom a criminal can get."

It takes a moment for you to realize that she's talking about Natasha. You glance quickly at the main area of the quinjet through the glass of the private room they got you to call Val, and your former boss uses this time to light a cigarette.

"I'm not a black widow."

Val chuckles. "Of course not, they fight much better." She comments and you grimace. Val takes a slow drag, blowing smoke against the camera before continuing to talk; "Speaking of them, you should thank your new friend sometime. The amount of black widows she's put on the market looking for work is what's given you so much time off. I'm not short-staffed, thanks to that."

"I'm glad the rescue of trafficked women has given you new employees, Contessa." You sneer in annoyance, stepping out of the way of the video and ignoring her confusion to tap lightly on the glass. The Avengers outside look up at the same time, but you wave for Natasha and Wanda to come inside. 

"Where'd you go, little bird?" Val asks the wall, and ends up choking on her smoke as the faces of the two Avengers come into focus next to you. "Oh, hello. What an honor-"

"Cut it, Val." You interrupt annoyedly, squeezed between Natasha and Wanda on the seat in the room. "Make your proposal. I want Romanoff to tell me if it's true, because she's the only one with any real experience of these things, and well, Wanda's my partner and she should be up to speed."

Your former boss smiles impressed. "What a lovely thing, a thief and an Avenger, my eyes can hardly believe it." 

You snort impatiently, but Valentina doesn't keep up the teasing. She nods, before turning her attention to the personal computer next to her phone. As she types, she repeats her earlier proposal. "I need to work on it first, dear. But I understand it will be something very similar to the agreements Miss Romanoff signed with Shield when she was hired as an Agent. Serving the American government entirely in exchange for freedom."

Natasha looks at you. "Is that what you want to do? Be an Agent?"

But you shake your head, offering her a sad smile. "There's no more Shield to recruit me. And I don't think I'm fit to be an Avenger anyway. But Val is director of the CIA. She could offer me something perfectly legal. And I could have an almost normal life."

"But what about the Sokovia agreements?" Wanda asks in concern. "You're an enhanced one."

Before you can answer, Val hums and grins. "Oh, I can see why you like that one, she's clever." You roll your eyes at the provocation, wishing you'd gone to see Val in person and could pull a gun on her to make her behave. Your boss stops typing and turns her full attention to the three of you. "Miss Maximoff has a very good point. If you wish to work with me at the moment, a CIA Agent contract, you would be legally obliged to sign the Sokovia Agreements."

You snort impatiently. "I'm not signing something that would force me to become a lab rat again! And certainly not something that says Wanda should be behind bars or-"

"Relax, I didn't say I was going to make you sign it." She cuts in. "And you're the one in a hurry for a new job after all. I don't understand the hesitation to do something that could be entirely bureaucratic if you stay out of the spotlight."

You hesitate, and exchange a quick glance with the two women next to you. Natasha shakes her head in the negative, but Wanda sighs.

"I'm pregnant."

Valentina chokes on her cigarette again, and Natasha covers her face with her hands. You don't know how to react, and Wanda keeps talking.

"Y/N is doing this for us, and if your partnership has meant anything other than work all these years, I know you'll help her."

But Valentina shakes her head, chuckling incredulously to herself. Wanda begins to worry. 

"I don't want to appeal to sentimentality, I'm just asking you to be considerate. Job or not, no one is going to put my family at risk. I won't take it lightly if your people follow and threaten her again."

But Val gestures quickly. "A child, little bird? How can you keep this a secret from me?"

You sigh tiredly. "It wasn't exactly any of your business."

But Val leans over to pick something up from the table, and you frown as you recognize your old research file. "Except, well, it's entirely my business." Val retorts seriously, her eyes running over the pages she's leafing through. Until she lets out a small exclamation. "Yes, here it is. Strucker specifically wrote that you were infertile. And that was a disappointment of course, because everyone who gets an enhanced one, would love to make more of them."

Wanda looks at you with confusion, but you stand up as if you're going to choke on the attention, taking the cell phone with you to the other corner of the room.

"I know exactly what those pages say, you don't have to read them to me." You retort angrily. "Strucker had to believe that he couldn't have more of me, okay? I couldn't..." Your voice falters, but you control your emotions by swallowing hard. "I did what I had to do. The changes to my body so that he would never find out. So that no one would find out. But when I'm with Wanda, I just... I don't think about the past. I can breathe, Val. And it happened. And I'm asking you, if your mentoring has meant anything all these years, to give me a chance to be more than a goddamn puppet. Please."

Your boss remains silent, thoughtful, before sighing and offering you something like a sincere smile, however small.

"Ten years, little bird."

You frown in confusion. "What?"

"Ten years." She repeats. "That's the most I can offer you. Your money, a new identity, a fresh start. Think of it as extended maternity leave. The child will be old enough for boarding schools, and I'll charge you for the services."

"I-I..." You hesitate, looking at Wanda who has an expression that says she can't make this decision for you.

Valentina stands up, taking the phone with her. "I'll work on your contract carefully. Nick Fury is not a foolish man, little bird. He sees the world as I do, the dangers that surround us and that must come from the outside. I like the idea of a team working on my behalf, but it's too early for anything like that. Especially with everything that's happening with the first team." Val continues, and you swallow. She gives you a genuine smile. "And of course, all those years have meant something to me. You're the first person I'd trust with the job."

You want to tell her that this isn't the kind of meaning you'd like, but you think that work reliability is all Valentina can offer you. You nod and thank her and she says goodbye before hanging up.

Natasha thinks it best to leave you and Wanda alone for a moment, and when you sit down on the floor, Wanda sits down next to you. Silently, she holds your hand and rests her head on your shoulder.

"A lot can change in ten years." You murmur, and you don't need to explain for Wanda to understand your hope that you won't have to fulfill any contracts. She squeezes your hand tighter because the decision has already been made. 

Your cell phone vibrates again, not with the CIA contract, but with your new documents and bank account filled with all the money you've earned as a mercenary. It makes your stomach turn with the feeling that you've just sold yourself again, and there's nothing you can do about it.

Wanda turns away to look at you and waits for you to do the same. Once your gazes are connected, she raises her hand to your face and pulls you in to kiss you softly on the lips.

"I'll always love you. Nothing will ever change that." She whispers against your lips, her forehead resting against yours. "I need you to promise that you'll always remember it."

You caress the wrist of the hand she holds to your cheek, and continue with your eyes closed. "I won't remember anything else."

She smiles, ending the distance again.

You kiss for a moment before you pull away to press your lips to her forehead and squeeze her hand. 

"We'll be fine, Wanda. It's me and you, and just one baby. We can manage."

She smiles tenderly, nodding before hiding her face in the crook of your neck and sighing as she repeats the words. "You're right. Two of us, and a whole team of grumpy superheroes to handle one little baby. How hard can it be?"

Six hours later, Melina Vostokoff carried out Wanda's first ultrasound, which would reveal not one, but two little boys growing inside her womb. Both of them had a natural inclination towards superpowers. 

But that's another story.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #heart shaped series #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagines

[starryinkart]

[CLICK FOR BETTER QUALITY!!!]

(Likes and Reblogs are appreciated!!)

Soooo I was sucked into Poppy Playtime again because of these goobers!! I don’t think I’ve ever posted Poppy Playtime stuff on here before, buttt I think I will now, I just wish the fandom was a bit bigger and more lively lmao 🤣

Catnap is my #1 favorite, then DogDay, then KC, and then Hoppy! I love the others too, but Bubba and Crafty are so hard to draw atm. I just need to practice more with them!😓

{Colorless Lines Below!!}

Headcannons for them below too!!!

———————

Some headcannons in the show universe cause I’m feeling fun:

- Catnap is the youngest! DogDay is the oldest of the crew! Their age order goes (oldest to youngest) DogDay, Bubba, Picky, Kickin, Crafty, Bobby, Hoppy, Catnap!

- Catnap doesn’t talk much, but he can. Just with a low voice that tends to be calming, and very sweet sounding. He usually just points, says short answers like yes or no, and nods.

- While Kickin (or KC) is the most egocentric and confident, Hoppy is the most energetic and tends to like talking people’s heads off, which causes them to butt heads at times, all while Picky tends to be the usual third wheel, often just quietly eating.

- Crafty is the most creative while Bubba is the most thoughtful and intelligent, which usually allows them to have deep, meaningful conversations of the wonders of life together.

-Crafty is the shyest out of the bunch, usually drawing with Catnap calmly, sharing her creations with him or hanging out with Bubba.

- Bobby and Picky tend to share their love for the world together, usually playing dress up with each other, talking about crushes. or cooking of course! Bobby always has something lovely to share and Picky, in contrast to her name, always is open to trying something new, as long as she thinks she may like it.

- In contrast to the canon, all of the crew just magically woke up in the Playcare, with no memories of before they opened their eyes to the colorful world around them. DogDay and Bubba were the first to appear, Picky, Crafty and Kickin spawning after, Bobby and Hoppy spawning together and Catnap spawning alone. There seems to be no way out, so the crew just embraces their situation and tries their best to not think about it too much.

- Catnap was the last and most unexpected to spawn in. From the time he opened his eyes to the new world around him, he had felt like something was off, like he didn’t belong there. While most of the others treated him nice, some of the crew were uneasy about his sudden appearance, seemingly years after the last of the previous arrivals had spawned in.

- Catnap begins to grow close to DogDay, almost becoming like his little brother. They spend the most time together, due to DDs kindness and warm welcoming energy towards him on his arrival! Also them both noticing they wore opposite necklaces, Cat being the moon and DD being the sun helped with that connection too!

- Kickin doesn’t really like or trust Catnap much, and doesn’t try to hide it, making snarky remarks and comments to clearly express his dislike for him.

- Catnap is super playful with the others, his best friends being Dog Day, Hoppy and Crafty! He tends to move like a ghost, the crew not usually noticing they are in his presence until they turn around! A lot of times, he hangs by his tail on the trees to say hello, or can be found in the fields laying in the grass and sleeping.

- Cat can sleep anywhere that is a surface, and is not wet.

- Every once and while, Cat swears he can see a skinny, metallic hand in the shadows, beckoning his attention. He’s tried to bring it up to the others, but they either think he’s acting weird, insane, or tell him not to worry about it.

———————

If you want to hear more, my asks are open!!! And I will be drawing them inbetween my Absolutely Chapters for Murder Drones, which I am STILL working on and Chapter 4 is coming out soon!! Promise, I didn’t forget, things have just been busy!!

ALSOOOOO New Murder Drones Comic for King Solver N coming this weekend 👀👀👀 Perhaps some angst or something fun?

#poppy playtime #smilling critters #poppy playtime smiling critters #poppy playtime catnap #catnap #DogDay #artists on tumblr #digital art #fan art #dog day #kickinchicken #craftycorn #hoppy hopscotch #bobby bearhug #bubba bubbaphant #picky piggy #PoppyPlaycareAU #< that is what this AU is called for now #starryinkartwork

[dotieeee]

The Gamemaker's Apprentice

Level 11

Pairing: Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow x You, named!Reader

Overall Warnings:

NON-CON, DUB-CON, Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow, Snow himself should be a warning, lots of blackmailing, gaslighting, manipulation, obsession, possesiveness, eventual forced marriage, eventual loss of virginity, breeding kink, canon-compliant major character death, reader is named but has no physical descriptions in the fic so one might also consider her an OC but in 2nd POV, will have canon inconsistencies, drugging, somnophilia, and other stuff that may be added

Masterlist

Level 11 Warnings:

The blackest of mails, like vanta-blackmail lolol

Replay Level 10

Ready? Level 11 Start:

Acacius Innis runs his fingers through his hair as soon as you finish telling your story.

You had just told him everything that transpired that day, save your mentor’s…gestures of affection. You ensured that he heard only what he needed to know: about his program being seized by the Citadel, you being promoted – perhaps so you could be kept under further surveillance – and about how you had said a few scornful words to Coriolanus Snow that you’re aware may bite you back in the ass.

Your uncle never spoke a word the entire time and chose to lend his ear instead.

He sighs, slaps his knees lightly and gets up from the couch, muttering to himself, ‘I’m getting a little too old for this.’

He saunters to the kitchen, emerging a few minutes later with two steaming mugs in either hand. He places one on the coffee table, and the other he makes you cup with both hands. He then encases your hands in his as he kneels before you.

Mmm. Hot chocolate. Almost as comforting as your uncle’s presence.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from all this,” he says in the most contrite expression you’ve seen on him. “I want you to know that I tried, I really did.”

But he has nothing to apologise for; he never has. “You led me to the Citadel that day, didn’t you?”

He lifts a corner of his mouth wanly. “I wanted you to see for yourself what kind of man you were dealing with. Looking back now, I wish I could’ve done more. I could’ve done so much more, Nellie.”

“No, uncle, you did everything you could. You always do. I couldn’t have asked for anything else,” you assure him. Your uncle has never failed you, but you have failed him time and again, and this is one of those instances. “I know you tried helping me without making it look like you were mollycoddling me.”

He tilts his head in agreement as he chuckles a little. “Yeah, well, you were always yapping about how you were ‘adult enough’ to handle things on your own,” he says fondly. “You were always independent, even when you were a little girl.”

Your tears have already abated back at the dumpster, but this time, they come back with an even more brutal force.

“I know…The truth is, uncle, I don’t think I can this time…I can’t do this anymore…” you choke on your own tears as your grip on the mug shakes.

“Hey, hey,” he says, putting down your mug on the coffee table. He cups your cheeks to wipe the tears away. “The fuck you can’t. You’re the bravest girl I know, Nellie. Now, I made a promise to your dad that I will look after you. And I will, until the day I die, plumcake.”

His expression turns sombre as he stands, running his fingers through his greying hair.

“That’s why I’m sending you to District 3.”

You whip your head up sharply at him.

“What?” Why does it sound like he’s sending you alone?  “You’re coming with, right? Uncle, you have to.”

“I can’t. I have to stay here.”

“Why?”

He sighs deeply as he takes his seat back on the sofa. “It’s much more complicated for me, plumcake. I’ll tell you some other time,” he adds, seeing the look of protest on your face. “Right now, it’s important that we get you there without anyone finding out. I can send the message to your aunt tonight. Listen to me carefully:

“You need to pack lightly, and we need to get to the earliest train leaving straight for District 3. That’s at five in the morning. Your aunt will pick you up when you get there, and she’ll set you up somewhere they can’t trace you.”

Uncle Cas leans forward and threads his fingers together in contemplation. Once again, the lines on his face and the bags under his eyes become more apparent. You worry that if you go, he’ll be left to deal with the aftermath of your actions.

“What if they, or he, think you helped me escape? Why can’t you come with me instead?”

“Then we make it look like you simply ran away,” Uncle Cas says casually. “You can even leave a note and shit. And don’t worry about me. Your uncle is a lot tougher than he looks.”

He flashes you a reassuring smile, before adding, “I will follow when I can, plumcake. Okay?”

But he says it in this tone that he uses on you when he’s hiding something, and he just wants you to let go of the matter. However, you are also well aware that if you don’t leave tomorrow for District 3, there is a chance you may never leave the Capitol again.

So you nod and begin stuffing your bag with essentials. You had to ensure it was an easy thing to grab if you ever needed to be quick on your feet. You pause when you get to the bookshelf. Your eyes immediately land on the far end of the arithmetic textbooks you’ve collected over the years:

Sejanus’s book of condensed romantic novels.

If you’re going to spend an indefinite amount of time to yourself hiding like an outlaw, you might as well take something of Sejanus with you. You grab the book and hide it among the clothes you packed.

You barely get any sleep in the next hours counting to four thirty, and when your uncle knocks on your bedroom door, you’re ready to go in ten seconds.

Your uncle manages to drive you himself to the train station without drawing attention, but as a precaution, he drops you off a few blocks away from the station building. Before you exit the car, he gives you his final instructions.

“I can’t be seen with you inside the station, and that building has cameras inside and out, so you’ll have to walk all the way there, I’m afraid. Just in case, I will park outside and wait; that way, if they ask, I’ll tell them you ran away and I’m looking for you. Got it?”

You nod once and gulp. This can’t be the last time you’ll see him in a long while, right? Nonetheless, you give him the tightest hug you can muster.

“Uncle, please be careful, okay? Video-call me write to me, or whatever, please?” you implore. You try to hold in the tears threatening to burst, but it’s getting close to impossible.

“I’ll be fine, plumcake, and yes, I’ll call every day if I can. Don’t cry now, you’ll be fine,” he whispers, patting your back and then pulling away, ruffling your hair as he urges, “Now, go. I’ll feel a lot better when you’re with your aunt.”

As you step out of the car, you glance behind you one more time just as your uncle drives off to a corner and out of sight. You wipe away any tears in your eyes and on your cheeks, adjust your bag, and walk as briskly as you can to the train station.

You keep a straight face as you go through the iris scanning at the peacekeeper station. The peacekeeper waves you forward once it’s finished and even gives you a polite salute, and your shoulders sag in relief once you’re several feet away. The ticketing booths are almost empty save for a few lone would-be passengers. The waiting area looks even more sparse. Only the freight section, located on the other side of the building, seems to be seeing any action, with the porters busy fork lifting large wooden crates to and from the freight carriages.

By the time you walk up to a booth, there is no one else on the line, so you ask the ticket agent for an express to District 3. You hand her the money in exchange for the ticket and casually proceed to the waiting area. You sigh as you sit and put down your bag. Filled with unease, which you guess will only abate when you’re inside a carriage, with the train moving as fast as it can all the way to District 3 where your aunt would be waiting, you check your watch every five minutes.

Ten-minute mark. Only ten minutes more and you’ll never see Coriolanus Snow ever again.

You almost jump as you feel a tap on the shoulder from behind. You turn to find the same peacekeeper who saluted you at the station, peering at you sheepishly.

“I’m sorry to bother, Miss Innis – I received the word late, you see – but my commander would like to have a word with you in his office. Please follow me,” he says.

If you had no reason to worry a while back, you have now.

Without causing a fuss, you follow the peacekeeper, who leads you to a closed office door on the station building’s second floor. He knocks twice and opens the door for you when he hears a voice call ‘come in.’ 

The door reveals a spacious office littered with desks that are currently empty, save the one at the far end occupied by another peacekeeper in his fifties scribbling something on paper and, right before the desk, sitting with his arms crossed and his face unreadable, someone else who  isn’t  supposed to be there.

“Uncle Cas?...”

He shakes his head once and gives you a look he hasn’t used on you in a long time:

Don’t ask.

You will your heart to stop pounding. This must just be protocol, right? They must’ve gotten a little more strict with district travel these days.

The peacekeeper at the desk, a commander judging by his uniform, smiles at you exasperatedly.

“Ah, there she is, your little runaway. You gave your uncle quite the scare, young lady,” he says, clicking his tongue after. “I found your uncle lurking in his car, saying he’s looking for you.”

“Commander Moss. You’ve met my niece before, I’m glad you found her,” he pretends to send you a disapproving look. You wipe the confused expression off your face. Showing any more could mean trouble.

“Yes, certainly we did. I don’t know who revoked her inter-district travel pass, but whoever did it, did it just in time.”

Oh no.

Commander Moss gets to his feet and announces, “Very well! Now that I’ve got the two of you here, I can now proceed with the real reason you were brought here.”

“Oh?” your uncle merely puts on an air of curiosity, but your instincts are telling you there’s something amiss.

The commander exhales as he paces behind his desk “Acacuis, there is no easy way of putting this, but the truth is, we were told a few hours ago to be on the lookout for  both of you.”

Your heart drops to your stomach.

Coriolanus got to them first.

Uncle Cas, however, maintains a curious facade. “Huh. Would you happen to know why?”

Commander Moss grimaces. “I’m afraid not, I’m sorry. And that’s not all,” he pauses as he scratches his temple with a finger, clearly uncomfortable with the information. “Aside from being told of your niece’s inter-district travel privileges being rescinded, I was also ordered to escort the two of you to the Citadel.”

Your Uncle Cas, ever the calm one, shrugs and says, “Alright. I wonder what it could be. In any case, Hubertus, we are at your disposal.” He takes to his feet, and you follow.

“I appreciate your cooperation. Part of our instructions was to keep this...matter as discreet as possible; this makes it a lot easier for all of us. I’ll drive you there myself; please follow me.”

The ride is quiet, and your attempts at getting your uncle’s attention are all but ignored, with him refusing to meet your eyes the entire drive to the Citadel.

As soon as you’re inside the building, you and your uncle are flanked by three peacekeepers each – one of them even confiscates your bag – and escorted to the elevator, dropping you off on a floor you’ve never been in. Before he’s pulled away by his escorts, your uncle tells you with a collected smile, “Everything is going to be okay, Nellie.”

Again with that tone.

They bring you to what seems to be an interrogation cell, dimly lit and empty except for what you suspect is a two-way mirror covered by blinds, and a table at the centre fitted with handcuffs. You don’t struggle when they place the cuffs around your wrists, but you keep asking them questions – where they took your uncle, why they’re keeping you here – all of which go unanswered. With nothing else to do except wait, you stare at the clock above the two-way mirror.

Five fifteen. The train would’ve already left, and along with it, your chance at leaving all this behind.

You were so close.

You rest your forehead on your arm and close your eyes, if only to hinder the incoming headache.

You’re jerked awake at the sound of the door closing and the footsteps that reverberate in the tiny space. As if this day can’t get any worse this early, a voice you had hoped you’d never hear again invades the space.

“Nellie. I came as soon as I could,” Coriolanus Snow flashes you a grin from across the table, with a hand inside his usual crisp, clean pantsuit pocket, the other clutching the leather briefcase he always brings to work.

He looks almost normal, smiling at you warmly like last night didn’t happen. That smile of his just raises the hairs on the back of your neck.

“I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances, especially after our little rift last night,” he says with a tilt of his head, his eyes unblinking and never leaving yours. “I want you to know that I will do everything I can to help you with this...matter at hand.”

You spare a glance at the clock. Just six twenty-five.

“I’ve been here for almost two hours. What ‘matter’ are we talking about here? What is going on? Where’s my uncle?”

Coriolanus just tuts. “That, and more, is what I came here to discuss. All in good time, sugarplum.”

He takes the seat facing you, takes a folder out of his briefcase and places it on the desk. He pushes it towards you, and motions to it, saying, “Open it and read.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you comply much as your cuffs allow you to and gape openly at the contents of the folder.

A photo of a young Acacius Innis in his early twenties, wearing tattered, dirty overalls and in the middle of lighting a cigarette, is paper clipped at the corner of the first page, and under the usual label ‘Classified,’ his name, family history, and background – some of which you already know, some of which redacted and crossed out completely in black ink.

You blink twice at the section named 'Criminal Background Synopsis.'

Criminal Category:  Rebel, Class A

Code Name:  The Confectioner

Criminal status:  AT LARGE

Known criminal organisations:  The Unresistance

 

The list goes on with names of your uncle’s presumed ‘criminal associates’ for two more pages, most of which are redacted and none that you recognise. The next page is a chart containing the organisation’s member hierarchy, and you check at the bottom for your uncle’s name, only to find it isn’t there. Scanning carefully once more, your eyes land at the very top.

There it is:  Acacius E. Innis, President/Leader.

To say you’re shocked is beyond an understatement.

Coriolanus doesn’t bother hiding the mirth in his eyes at your reaction. He begins lightly, “You see, I’ve been acquainting myself with your family history, and I uncovered a lot of interesting facts.”

This can’t be right.  Your uncle openly discusses his disdain of the government around you, but a rebel? And a leader of a rebellious front, to boot?

The third page is a scanned photo of the group’s sigil: a raven perched on an olive branch, with the Latin phrase ‘In Tenebris’ in all caps at the bottom.

“It means ‘In the Shadows,’” he explains. “The Unresistance was an elite resistance group made up of smart, highly competent people from all over Panem. As their motto suggests, this group takes the battle behind the scenes instead of the frontlines. They held respectable positions in society: company shareholders, factory owners, teachers, doctors, and many other specialists; some of them still do, to this day. They infiltrated government institutions using their intellect and ability to blend seamlessly within their workplace. They were a network of formidable spies who gathered and traded intelligence for and with other rebellious groups. Intelligence reports say they were smart to disband as soon as the war broke out. They simply vanished, using their positions and money to bury evidence against them.”

Uncle Cas is a spy? He most definitely has the aptitude for it. But if this holds any truth, why hasn’t he been prosecuted, especially with all this evidence?

Coriolanus answers this as if he just read your mind. “In your uncle’s case, he was pardoned by President Ravenstill in exchange for his loyalty and his services to the Capitol. Your uncle was given immunity with the condition that he never engages with anything considered to be subversive to Capitol authority.”

He leans forward with his fingers laced on the desk. 

“Your uncle accepted the deal right after your parents died. Do you know what that means, Nellie?” He asks softly.

“He moved to the Capitol for me.”

Acacius Innis gave up on his ideals to raise his dead brother’s daughter all by himself. What if you caused his divorce, too? Are you about to be responsible for his hanging, as well?

“As touching as that may be,” Coriolanus interrupts your train of thought. “The fact remains: your letters to Sejanus were never monitored and were never sent through the official communications channels. This is evidence that your uncle was, or still is, in contact with them, therefore violating the conditions of his pardon.

“Now, imagine if someone gets ahold of this intel. If someone sends word to the president.” He finishes his speech with a smug expression, knowing he has the upper hand.

This makes you wonder: when has he  not  had the upper hand?

“By ‘someone,’ you mean you,” you scoff. “Did you revoke my inter-district pass, too?”

“It’s the protocol for a person of interest.”

“What is there for you to gain from all of this? You got your stupid program; it’s now official Citadel property. And if this is about the things I said last night, forget it: I’m not taking them back, and I’m not apologising.”

Coriolanus just lets out this sardonic hum, his smirk growing ever wider. “Did your uncle ever tell you about what happened during our meeting at Strabo’s home?”

You narrow your eyes at him as you recall that night. Your uncle had been so mad about it but had refused to disclose anything.

“That business proposal was supposed to bring the Snows, the Innises, and the Plinths great benefit. An arrangement to join our families together by way of marriage...”

He drums his fingers on the table while you digest, with much difficulty, what he just unveiled. 

“You and I, Nellie.”

No.  No, it can’t be.

“Who’s idea was that?” You ask in a hushed tone. It’s Strabo or Ma. It has to be.

“It was mine.”

Fuck.

“I pitched it to Strabo, and he agreed with it,” he goes on. “Enthusiastically, in fact. He was eager to pitch it to Acacius Innis, but no surprises here: your uncle blatantly refused. He said he’s giving you free rein on your life, and that if you were to get married, he wanted it to be of your own volition. Sweet, but from that day on, I knew he’d get in my way.”

“So this – all of this – it’s not about the program anymore...”

“Finally,” he praises. “It took you a while longer than I thought. Sure, it was my task to secure for the Citadel this vital piece of intellectual property, but...”

What is the end goal of the game?  Uncle Cas’s voice echoes in your head.

“My end goal was you.”

Coriolanus bares his teeth in a wicked grin, taking obvious pleasure at the way your breathing evidently shallows. You fight the bile rising to your throat and dig your fingernails into your palms since there’s absolutely nothing else you can do.

“It still is, in fact. So you hurt me a little when you insinuated last night that my feelings weren’t true, but that doesn’t matter. You were angry and I can see why. You wanted to protect your uncle’s work, and you simply lashed out when you couldn’t.”

He reaches from across the table to unfurl your fingers and hold your hands. Not exactly the most romantic thing, what with you in handcuffs and unable to swat his hand away.

“That’s why I came here,” he says. He draws circles on the back of your hand with his thumb as he continues, “I understand your actions and I’m willing to help you. I can fix all of this.”

“Don’t you mean to say you’re going to blackmail me again?”

Coriolanus’s grip on you tightens by a fraction. His initial warmth vanishes as he lets go of your hands and abruptly gets to his feet, his jaw tensing and his shoulders drawn back. With him gripping the edge of the table, he leans into your space.

“Let’s not argue semantics here, sugarplum. You are wearing out my patience,” he hisses. “I tried earning your trust so I could do this the right way: court you, bide my time, and then propose... Remember that you forced my hand in this.”

He flips the folder to its final page and pins it with his forefinger. “This is a report I drafted to formally inform Ravenstill of your uncle’s backslide.”

The leer on his face turns diabolical as he lays down his ultimatum:

“I am willing to destroy this report if you agree to marry me.”

You stare vacantly at the paper, not even bothering to read its contents. “This is your move? To force me to marry you?”

“Again, semantics. This is a big decision you’re about to make, so I will give you twenty-four hours to accept.”

“And if I don’t?”

And yet, as the question spills from your lips, the answer comes flooding in the form of flashes inside your head: your uncle climbing the steep steps of the gallows, a peacekeeper placing a black piece of cloth over his head as he readies the rope –

You’re taken away from the mental image by the sound of blinds lifting. He’s just adjusted the covers to reveal the occupant on the other side of the two-way mirror: 

Your Uncle Cas, sitting behind a table identical to yours, handcuffed like you, and looking extremely bored out of his wits.

Coriolanus just sneers at the sight.

“Then, I simply send my report to the president. Now, I doubt Ravenstill would be willing to spend time and fortune investigating the matter just to exonerate a former rebel, so I imagine your uncle will charged at once for conspiracy and treason.” The blinds close, and he circles the table slowly with his hands behind his back while he counts the ways you’ll surely be fucked once that stupid paper gets to the president.

“His assets, and in turn, the entire Innis Tech company, will be seized by the government of Panem, leaving you with next to nothing. The Innis name, forever besmirched and labelled traitors. You will be expelled from the University. No company will hire you, no matter your qualifications.”

He eventually reaches you and bends down to whisper over your ear:

“Everything your parents died for, everything your uncle worked for, will be stripped from you, all because you made the wrong choice.”

He pulls away from you with that self-satisfied smirk you’d give an arm to wipe off his face.

“Don’t look at me like that, sugarplum,” he tuts. “I am simply trying to make you see the consequences should you decline my proposal.”

You stare at him with all the loathing you can muster, but you doubt its efficacy; there isn’t much threat a handcuffed woman almost backed into a corner can do, after all.

“Why are you doing this?” So many things you want to say, and your brain settles for this train of thought. “You can have anyone you want in the Capitol. So why? Why go through these lengths when any other girl would willingly throw themselves at your feet?”

The expression on Coriolanus’s face shifts to something unreadable for a fraction of a second, but his mouth tilts once more into what seems like a pained grin, his eyes turning glossed over and – dare you say – gentle.

“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” he says softly. “But this I can tell you: nobody else compares, or even comes close.”

He paces the length of the room once more, just across the desk from you.

“I liked our camaraderie. Compared with other people, I felt like I could speak my mind with you to some degree. It’s refreshing, really, and for a time you were open to me in a similar way. I find that fascinating about you. You’re not afraid to speak your mind, and you do it so eloquently. You’re one of the smartest, most intuitive people I have ever met. Who wouldn’t want that for themselves?

“But then, you had to pull away.”

Every ounce of softness he just showed you vanishes, replaced by displeasure, staring you down with a curled lip at what he perceives to be a slight against him.

Is he referring to the kiss at the greenhouse, perhaps?

“That night at the party,” he continues, confirming your thoughts. “You knew and you played along. You had a plan, except it backfired in the end, didn’t it?”

He lets out a short, taunting laugh.

“I hope you learn something from this, at least: snow lands on top. Frankly, if you had the connections and the resources I had, you’d be a worthy adversary.”

Coriolanus strokes your cheek with a finger. You turn your head away just so you can keep from looking into those intense blue eyes, now genuinely fearful of being swallowed whole. Your action does not deter him. He sits on the table inches away from where you’re handcuffed.

“Watching you hold your ground against me...it was  exhilarating. I’m almost sorry it has come to an end; I was enjoying myself.”

Then those hands firmly encase the back of your neck and the sides of your face, his face drawing closer until his lips brush over your ear.

“You play the chase so beautifully,” he whispers breathlessly. “You’re beautiful, Prunella Innis. You’re almost perfect, now.”

When he pulls away, he observes your face for a moment, his hands still clasping both sides of your face. You don’t know whether to cry or lash out, so your face freezes with a glare and your body stays rigid, hoping you can convey just how much you despise him without saying anything.

He clicks his tongue but seems mildly amused. “Don’t be like that, sugarplum. You should be thanking me. Remember our little lovers’ tiff a few hours ago? I stand by what I said: I made you who you are. You’re perfect now because of me. Do you think you’d be able to find out just what you’re capable of without me pushing you to your limit? I made you. I own you,” he says as his thumb strokes your lower lip. “My  perfect little sugarplum.”

“If you’re that addicted to control,” you muster spitefully, “What good will it do you if you marry me, knowing I could cause you this much trouble?”

He gets off the table, now with a slight spring in his step as he flashes a conceited grin.

“Oh, but you won’t, Nellie. Not anymore, at least. I have the only thing – person, really – you hold of value. That should be enough for me to teach you to toe the line.”

You blink and face the floor to forcefully rid yourself of invasive imagery involving him harming your uncle just so he can get his way. But the grip on your chin makes you gaze into his crazed orbs: nothing but a bottomless blue abyss where he intends for you to fall freely. Once more, you’re subjected to his covetous scrutiny, making you shiver inwardly and wish you had heeded your instincts warning about him from the very beginning.

“Imagine,” he breathes, “One of the most accomplished, most brilliant women in all of Panem, submitting wholly to me? I suppose you’re right: I am addicted to control, and controlling you, forcing you on your knees before me, and  only me, is my morphling.”

And then, Coriolanus releases you. He picks up the folder and secures it inside his briefcase. A prized piece of family history, now reduced to mere blackmail material.

“Twenty-four hours. That will be – ” he glances at the clock above him – “Seven AM. Give me a call then, and we’ll talk.”

You really should’ve trusted your guts about him from the get-go.

From his pocket, he takes out a key and uses it to free you from your shackles on the table.

“They shouldn’t have handcuffed you like this,” he says as he pulls your wrist back to inspect it. “I’ll have a word with them. Come, let’s get you home. Judging by your eyes, you had not slept the entire night, either.”

He uses the same wrist he’s gripping to lead you away, but you don’t budge. You can’t leave when your Uncle Cas is still in the other cell.

Coriolanus guesses your concern correctly and assures you, “Your uncle will not be harmed while in custody; you have my word.”

“When can he go home, then? Why should he still stay here?”

“Leverage, sugarplum,” he smirks. “And he can go home once we’ve…settled this matter between us. For now, consider your decision of my proposal at home when you’re well rested.”

“And my bag? They took my bag,” you say. Sejanus’s book is inside that bag.

“They will withhold it until it’s properly searched. They will turn it over to me once it’s cleared. In the meantime, you will stay at home and sleep. You have a decision to make.”

His tone doesn’t leave anything for argument, so with a glance at the blinds, you allow yourself to be dragged from the cell, out of the building and into his car, which leaves once he gives the word to the driver.

You try not to cry the entire ride home as you think of Uncle Cas. Will they feed him? Will they interrogate him? Are they going to give him a bed to sleep on, at least? Sure, you could ask Coriolanus to make sure he gets whatever he needs, but any favours you ask him at this point would come at a hefty price you might not be able to afford.

Once the car pulls up to Corso III, you all but launch yourself out of the car – anything to get away from him as soon as possible – but a firm hand grabs ahold of your arm when the car door opens.

“I will take you there myself. I need to have a word with the peacekeepers,” he says.

Peacekeepers?

Apparently, he had ordered two of them to guard the door to your apartment home, and you wait until he’s done giving them orders before you can get inside. Even in your own home, you no longer have autonomy.

He follows you inside your home as you sink into the sofa, take your shoes off and release a sigh, burrowing your face in your palms. Maybe this isn’t real. Maybe you’re still dreaming, and when you wake up, your uncle will still be here, in the kitchen, making breakfast for the two of you. Maybe when you open your eyes, he won’t be there anymore.

“Have you had breakfast, sugarplum?”

Damn. No such luck. 

You feel him touch your shoulder to get your attention, and you flinch away from his touch automatically. He purses his lips in apparent displeasure.

“Please don’t pretend to care," you say. "You already let go of that façade, remember?”

“if you still think this is a farce, wait until that clock strikes seven tomorrow morning. You’ll see then just how real this is for me.”

Wordlessly, you brush past him as you enter the kitchen and yank the fridge door open. As you scan the contents, you can feel his stare boring holes in the back of your head.

“Twenty-four hours, Nellie. I’ll wait for your call.”

With that final air of pompousness, he takes his leave, closing the door behind him with a click.

Feeling utterly depleted, you forgo getting food and go back to the sofa, launching yourself on it with a soft ‘oof.’ Your stomach growls, but how can you eat when you’re unsure whether your uncle would? You’re bone-tired, but you’re not even sure he’d get any rest in that barely furnished cell, either.

On the other hand, if Uncle Cas was here, he’d be berating you right now to take better care of yourself.

Perhaps you could spend the entire morning crying like about it like a child, but what good will that do? Begrudgingly, you grab whatever food you lay your eyes on in the fridge – in this case, a half-eaten bar of chocolate from The Headless Confectioner’s that your uncle resealed, probably to save for later. Once you’re done chewing on it with much effort, you drag your feet to your bed and bury yourself under pillows and blankets. Apparently, a cocktail of mental exhaustion and a restless night make a dreamless sleeping draught almost as strong as Dr Gaul’s concoction, and within minutes, you’re out cold, dead to the world for the next few hours.

You’re cruelly wrenched from blissful unconsciousness by the constant ringing of the doorbell. In an instant, you’re up, glancing at your alarm and scrambling to the door to check who it is. It’s five to three in the afternoon, so maybe it’s your Uncle Cas, and they confiscated his keys so he can’t get in! Perhaps they even let go of him due to lack of evidence and he’s just about ready to get some well-deserved rest.

Thanks to this wishful thinking, you’re extremely disappointed to find more peacekeepers milling on the intercom, insisting on coming in.

“Ms Innis, we have a warrant to search your home in light of recent events,” one of them says.

Is there no end to this day, you wonder?

The moment you unlock the door, the peacekeepers stroll inside and await orders, while one of them, a major no more than in his late twenties, salutes you, and shows you the search warrant.

“My name is Major Truman, Ms Innis,” he says. “My unit and I are assigned to search your home for evidence of subversive activities. We will, as much as we can, try not to disturb the peace inside your home and are instructed to only search areas where Acacius Innis might conduct his business. We are to also seize anything we deem as evidence. Would you kindly point us to the said area?”

Numbly, you nod and lead them to his office, and they privates waste no time sorting through the obvious place to start: the papers stuffed in boxes stacked haphazardly in the corner, where your uncle sometimes stuffs graded essays and test papers, and then forgets about them until he needs them.

There’s no point watching them tear the place apart, so proceed to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

“It must really be difficult, watching all this,” a voice says.

Your head snaps to see Major Truman, standing in the kitchen doorway stiffly with his arms behind his back.

“Your coffee has been ready for nearly fifteen minutes, in case you’re wondering,” he adds.

Shit. You let out a sigh of frustration as you realise you’ve been staring blankly into space for the said amount of time; probably more.

You press ‘reheat’ and wait. As an afterthought, you offer the major some coffee, which he gratefully accepts. He takes the seat just beside your uncle’s usual place.

“Have you found anything?” you ask, unable to control yourself.

“I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty to discuss matters regarding evidence,” he says contritely. After a sip from his cup, he says, “Thank you for being cooperative, by the way. I think it’s unfair, what they’re doing.”

You nod and focus on your cup, unsure how to respond. He’s a peacekeeper, after all – how much can you trust his type?

“You might not believe this,” he goes on, this time, with a much softer tone. “But I used to be his student at the University. I nearly flunked one of his classes because, well…I wasn’t into the field, to be quite honest.”

Major Truman flashes you a kind smile. “I don’t why I told him, but I did. I confessed I was only pressured by my parents to take the course.” He pauses to let out a dry chuckle. “He then asked me right then and there to write an essay about how I would hypothetically convince my parents to let me take a different path. It was weird, but I did. When I finished, he read that rambling thing I wrote, and I was dismissed.

“The next thing I know, the grades were coming in, and he gave me a passing grade.”

Curious now, you flick your gaze at him as he laughs heartily. “He did that?”

“I graduated a few years ago, but that, I’ve never forgotten to this day.”

Major Truman pats your shoulder awkwardly before he steps away, pausing at the doorway to say, “He’s a good man, Ms Innis. I’m sure this will all blow over soon.”

“Do you know If he’s okay? If he’s had anything to eat, or…” your worried voice trails off, as it dawns on you that he might not even be stationed at the Citadel for him to have access to this bit of information.

He nods, saying, “I gave him food a while ago. He recognised me, too. Don’t worry. I have friends there who owe me favours, and I can make sure he’s treated well. It’s the least I could do. Thank you for the coffee.”

With a final salute, he exits the kitchen, presumably to return to your uncle’s office to continue his supervision.

You inwardly thank your luck and the goodness of your uncle’s heart to have someone like Major Truman looking after him in that hellish place. Rebel or not, you agree: your uncle has a good heart.

Far greater than yours or anyone else’s.

That’s why it takes you a moment to compose yourself once you see the chaos that’s now his beloved home office.

His computer, all but taken apart now, had been packed into a box labelled ‘evidence.’ His bookshelf, its shelves sagging with the weight of the books it contained, now empty; documents and notes scattered all over the floor as the men haul his stuff outside. They’re taking items that you won’t otherwise even spare a second glance at.

At least until your eyes land on one of the boxes they’re still halfway through filling.

It’s your little rabbit plush – the one that had inadvertently saved your life when you went back to pick it up.

You hadn’t seen the rabbit plush in years, and you had actively avoided it as a child after it was returned to you just days after the attack. Your uncle seems to have tried his best to restore the plush. Dusty, but otherwise free of the dirt it had been coated with on the day of the explosion, you pick it up at once from the box.

A peacekeeper apparently has qualms about it.

“Miss, put that thing back in the box – otherwise, I’d have to report you for obstruction of justice abd tampering of evidence,” he barks.

Major Truman, however, approaches him with a stern expression. “Stand down, private. It’s just a toy. Unless the Capitol has issued orders saying rabbit plushies are now deemed subversive?”

The private gives him a salute before returning to sorting the papers on the table.

Flashing Major Truman a grateful smile, you exit the office and settle for the couch in the living room in case they finish soon, and they’d have final things to say.

Maybe even decide to storm your room once they’re done with the home office.

At exactly eight in the evening, Major Truman and his unit bid you goodnight, leaving you alone again in the entire apartment. You survey whatever’s left of your uncle’s office: computer parts they deemed unimportant to seize, several stacks of school-related documents, and a few other knick-knacks, all arranged neatly on what was once a table that had very little surface visible. At least they had the decency to clean up. Perhaps an order from the major himself.

Your Uncle Cas’s office, now stripped bare of his soul – it’s a sight enough to send you into a sobbing fit. No longer able to bear seeing the space, you sink into the living room sofa once more. As you mourn the injustice, and the treatment of a good, wise man, you hold the stuffed rabbit close to your heart, hoping it’ll save you again this time around.

You run. Fast.

You run even as branches of the foliage get caught in your dress – the dress Coriolanus Snow made you wear on the night of that party – inwardly glad that it’s finally getting the treatment it deserves: getting torn little by little, hopefully until it’s forever erased from your memory.

You’re barefoot, you notice, but the ground is grassy anyway. You don’t need shoes when there are more pressing matters at hand.

Like that deadly…creature chasing you down as its designated prey.

You sprint as quickly as your muscles allow you to, through the ever-shifting landscape – a few seconds ago, it was a foggy, grassy terrain; now, it seems to have morphed into a series of tall bushes manicured neatly to form a seemingly endless maze. No end in sight, just grey nothingness outside the hedges.

Within the space, a voice you’re too unfortunate to recognise plays as if coming through the intercom. One of Volumnia Gaul’s little on-the-spot poems:

“Oh, me, there goes little Nellie, so pretty and frail; her big bad Snow is hot on her tail!”

The mad cackling that ensues is superseded by a faint voice in the distance.

“Nellie? Nellie! Come back here!”

Coriolanus Snow’s feral shouts float in the vast grey space, but you don’t look back. It isn’t Snow – it can’t be; the footfalls chasing you and seemingly inches away from you don’t sound human. There’s snarling behind you, and the sound of a snapping jaw is heard as your ankle narrowly misses its rabid bite.

The scream for your name this time is much more hysterical.

“Prunella Innis!”

Your frantic dash is interrupted by a succession of tiny pinpricks on your skin. Something live and crawling wraps around your leg, making you fall, with large sharp teeth digging inches deep into your flesh. You let out a pained cry as you fall to the ground, the stinging bringing involuntary tears into your eyes. An overwhelming scent envelops you as your fall is broken by a jagged, uneven surface. Vision clearing by the second, you realise what the forest floor had morphed into.

“I just want to talk to you!”

Another enraged scream from the creature hounding you.

Can it smell blood, you wonder? Because from the punctures on your skin, the red liquid now oozes freely, making you gag at the pungent, metallic smell. You don’t look at it. It’s always somehow easier to bear when you look away.

It had turned into a bed of roses and thorns in mere seconds. The red and white blooms attached to them seem to mock you in your despair. The thorny vine around your ankle grows, extending further into your leg, piercing it with razor-sharp spikes. The sound of soft whooshing from above makes you look up. 

It’s a drone older than the ones you’ve tested in the lab. The type that can only carry a single item at a time. It drops a water bottle a few feet away from you, and the bottle breaks when it lands.

The snarling creature seems to have caught up to you.

“I sent that to you.”

The imposing figure of Coriolanus Snow enters your line of vision. He smiles just as disarmingly as usual, his clothes just as you remember: brand-new, finely tailored and flawless in every angle. A stark comparison to your figure crumpled on the floor, unmoving and bleeding profusely.

“I thought you’d be grateful. I wanted to help you,” he says. He tilts his head to get a better look at your foot tangled in the brambles. It had already reached your thigh, tearing through your dress even further.

Yet his face is without an ounce of pity. Nothing but cold in those eyes – biting, ruthless, unyielding.

He bends on one knee to draw closer to your frame. “Don’t worry, sugarplum, you won’t need these anymore,” he says, his tone cloyingly sweet, as he strokes your injured leg. “You have nowhere to run. And you don’t have to run. Not when I have you.”

Movement from above distracts you from his leer. The sky folds back, much like a grey cloth, revealing a stadium full of Capitol residents, clapping and cheering and screaming, all to celebrate your downfall and venerate the cause of it.

Amidst the tumultuous applause, Coriolanus Snow’s victorious, haughty voice reaches you without delay or difficulty, as he looks down on you with those hungry, piercing, rabid eyes.

Like he’s burrowed inside your head and his words are echoing from within you.

“I won you, Nellie. The game is over. Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

You open your eyes with a sharp intake of breath. 

It’s five in the morning and no word yet from your Uncle Cas. No calls, no knocks on the door or rings of the doorbell.

You’re just as alone as the moment you fell asleep. The rabbit plushie lies within your arms, its faded, beady eyes looking at you as if to ask, ‘what now?'

Coffee, that’s what. Coffee will make it better.

As the coffee maker gurgles in the background, you wonder vacantly whether your Aunt Marcelline had gone through this exact situation when she and your uncle had still been married. With him being a rebel, did she also have to deal with hours upon hours of no word from him, waiting almost desperately for any news of the fate that had befallen him? You’re lucky, considering you know where he is – probably the same interrogation cell they’d placed him in yesterday – but your aunt…how many of these days did she have to endure?

Was this the reason why she left him in the end?

The coffee doesn’t help. No surprises there.

Thirty minutes to six.

There’s still time for this trick to end. Hey, maybe you’re still dreaming all of this, or maybe this is some sort of cruel prank your Uncle Cas had designed.

Maybe you entered a parallel universe, and anytime soon, things will right themselves. Your uncle will be in the kitchen, making you both the sugar-heavy breakfast he’s partial to.

One could hope, right?

But as six rolls into the fray, reality finally rears its ugly head.

This is real.  Everything is real: your dear old Uncle Cas is still at the Citadel, and it’s only a matter of minutes before he’ll be sent to heaven-knows-where just for protecting you and the letters you had exchanged with Sejanus.

Unless you give in to the demands of Coriolanus Snow.

You allow yourself to spend the hour before your deadline in resigned sobbing – you’re sealing your life away with an obsessive sociopath, it’s the least you deserve – and by six fifty-eight, you pick up the phone receiver and dial his number.

Better you suffer than your uncle dead.

Six fifty-nine.

The other line rings thrice before you hear the click, indicating the receiver has just been picked up.

“Good morning, sugarplum,” that sickeningly sweet voice of Coriolanus Snow greets from the other line. “I was just about to dial the Presidential Palace.”

Curse you and your bloodline, Coriolanus Snow.

“Please let my uncle go; I accept your proposal.”

Author notes:

Enter Level 12

Please reblog and comment, it's always appreciated!

Level 12 won't be out until next week, weekend, I think, because I will be going on a much needed vacay trip for a few days 😊 I'll be active still tho, so thank you guys for sticking around Ily all!! 😘

#dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #Young!coriolanus snow #young!coriolanus snow x reader #named!reader #or #x OC2ndPOV #18+ only #dark!coriolanus snow fic #dark!coriolanus #dark!coriolanus fic #dark!fic

[emeritusemeritus]

Just wanna bewitch you in the moonlight. Pt 8.

[Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley]

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Title: Just wanna bewitch you in the moonlight.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley

Timeline: Predominately set between GOF and OOTP (some canon has been altered to fit the story)

Summary: Both twins like Gryffindor!reader. Reader likes both twins. How will she decide who to chose in the end? Amortentia might be able to help, or not.

Warnings: Smut, oral sex, p in v sex, 69’ing, established relationships, threesomes, friends to lovers, all the good stuff. NO Twincest. Mentions of illness, Brief mentions of vomiting. Tiny bit of angst, possessiveness, talk of kids. Mentions of dominant behaviour. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Love potions? But none are actually used. Not beta-read nor spell checked, we die like Sirius ❤️

The Freddie smut train isn’t stopping 🌹

George returned a little while later, taking a suspiciously long time in the shower which you didn't doubt had been organised by Fred.

"Are you both decent?" He asked as he crept in, smiling at seeing that you were both now clothed and sat on the bed laughing.

"Reckon tea will be ready soon," George says, hopping onto the bed, now clean and redressed. He immediately pulls you into his arms, getting the cuddles you'd promised earlier as you absently draw shapes onto the skin of his arm with your finger as you all chat until Molly calls you for tea.

You all sit and chat as you eat, Fred, Harry and Ron all celebrating their win from earlier in the day. Molly has made a heap of mashed potato, steak and onion pies and veg which you excitedly tuck into, knowing how much you'll miss her cooking when the week comes to an end. It was Hermione's last day at the burrow tomorrow before she went home to her parents and so you were all trying to think of something you could do tomorrow, gathering ideas or group activities but not quite deciding anything.

Fred looks increasingly fidgety throughout dinner, which made you glance at him questioningly a few times. It wasn't entirely uncharacteristic for him to be squirmy and hyper but this seemed different, like he couldn't wait to get away from the table. Once the meal had been had, you and both twins make your way up to their bedroom with Fred immediately fluttering round the room grabbing random things and slinging them into a little shopping bag he'd knicked from Molly.

"You'll probably need a sweater princess, want one of mine?" He asks as he delves into the drawers, not waiting for an answer as he pulls out a green knitted jumper with a big 'F' on the front in gold lettering. You gladly accept and look down at what you're wearing, suddenly wondering if they're suitable.

"Fred, do I need to get changed?" You ask, making him pause briefly as he looks at you up and down.

"No princess, though if you want to wear less I'd have no qualms," he smirks before returning to his digging. You roll your eyes and turn your gaze to George who is lay on the bed reading. You slink into bed beside him and without ever taking his gaze off the page, he opens up his arm for you to cuddle into his side.

"Gonna miss you," you whisper in his ear, quiet enough so Fred wouldn't hear. You see him smile and turn to you as his hand creeps down to reach your bum, giving it a little pat.

"You already know I'll miss you," he smiles, pressing a kiss to your head.

"Right! Princess if you would like to follow me," Fred says, standing beside the bed and offering his elbow to you like a man in an old fashioned movie. You giggle and stand to grab his elbow, casting one last glance back at George before you slip out of the door and down the stairs, following Fred until he leads you out of the house.

"Where are we going?" You ask, your arms still gripping his arm as he guides you. He looks over at you with a smirk and winks, not disclosing anything.

You follow the familiar path up to the back field, praying that he wasn't going to make you play quidditch.

When you got to the field, he pulled the bag off his wide shoulders and pulled out a large picnic blanket and laid it on the floor as he knelt down, gesturing for you to take a seat.

"Okay my princess, we have a blanket, some candles, some beer and."

"Where did you get that?" You interject, laughing as he pulls out two bottles of beer from the bag, no doubt stolen from Arthur's stash. He gives you a wicked smile and leans in to pull you into a kiss, both of you giggling as your lips meet. He then lights the candles around you and reaches into the bag to pull out a little box.

"Okay we have Weasley's whizzbangs, whizzfire bangs, whammy rockets and miraculous mystic mayhem makers," Fred smiles as he pulls out a selection of fireworks from the bag, all tried and tested Weasley products they'd been developing.

"Putting on a show for me handsome?" You flirt, looking at the selection of explosives in front of you.

"Sweetheart, I'm constantly putting on a show for you, have been since second year," he admits with a little chuckle, making you laugh.

You actually end up sitting and talking for the majority of the night, reminiscing about previous pranks you'd all pulled and memories together over the years as you sip on stolen beer. You were both lay on the blanket, your head on his chest as you looked up towards the stars, feeling at peace.

"You're so beautiful," Fred says suddenly, making you turn to face him. Instead of a teasing smirk that you'd expected, he actually looks a little bashful with a smile tugging at his lips. You blush at the sudden intimacy and lean up to kiss him. The kiss starts off slowly and playfully but in no time you are beginning to rut against each other, hands wandering and little breathless gasps falling between your lips in between the passionate kisses.

Something changes in you immediately like a switch had been flicked and you needed to feel him on you, in you, however you could get him, surrendering to the intense desire that Fred always seemed to pull from you.

You began tugging at his sweater, needing to get it off his body to feel him. As he sat up slightly, you immediately began attacking his brown, woven belt to get to what you really wanted.

"What's your rush princess? You need me?" He asks, his hand coming up to grab the side of your face, long fingers tangling into your hair as he feverishly kisses you. You nod and a little whimper falls from your throat without realising as you carry on trying to undress him, the lust you felt becoming a burning need.

Fred pulled off his sweater and T-shirt, leaving him in just his trousers which were quickly pulled down as soon as you'd worked his belt.

"A little unfair don't you think sweetheart?" He smirks, pulling your body to his, your hips meeting as you feel the growing bulge in his underwear against your thigh. He immediately pulls off the sweater and top you're wearing, gasping and growling as he realises that you aren't wearing a bra, your naked breasts spilling out. He immediately latches onto your nipple with his mouth, feasting on the feverish skin as his other hand grabs hold of your neglected breast and toys with the nipple. Your hips chase his at the overwhelmingly pleasurable sensation as he sucks and nips at your pebbled nipples.

"Fred," you groan, throwing your head back as he sucks little lovebites into the side of your breast, never neglecting the nipple as his tongue switches back and forth, devouring your aching breasts.

"That's it princess, tell me who makes you feel this good," Fred smirks, pushing your breasts together to pay attention to them both. "Such perfect tits," he mumbles as he dives right back in.

Your hands begin to wander on his body, running down his smooth abdomen until you reach the little fuzz of his happy trail and the waistband of his boxers. You slip your hand into his underwear and immediately reach for his big, swollen length earning a loud growl from Fred as you wrap your hand around him. He breaks apart from your breast just for a second to pull down his underwear, exposing his perfect cock and balls to you, allowing you to toy with him without restriction.

You slowly begin to move your hand on his cock, tugging and gliding gently just how he likes, causing a broken moan of your name to fall from his lips. He bends his neck to reach down and kiss you, slipping his tongue into your mouth as it wrestles with your own, the sensual glide making you squeeze your legs together to relieve some tension. Fred misses nothing and immediately moves his hands to your jeans to tug them off. You reluctantly let go of his length to let him pull off your jeans and panties in one go. He then pulls off his boxers the rest of the way and slings them away, leaving you both completely naked and exposed.

A single moment passes as you look at each other, your eyes wandering all over his perfect body, really trying to commit it to memory as you look at him with sheer adoration.

He leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, smirking against them as his hand begins to trail up your thigh with teasingly delicate touches which only fuel the fire within you further.

His hand meets your wet folds as his fingers slip beneath them, earning a groan from him as he discovers just how wet you are.

"Is all of this for me princess?" He smirks.

You nod, desperately trying to buck your hips so he'll touch you more, chest heaving already at the sensation.

"Have you been thinking about this sweetheart? About how my big cock is going to stretch you out? Filling you up just right."

"Fuck, Fred yes!" You moan as his long, talented fingers slip inside you, curling up to hit that special spot that makes you keen.

"There it is princess, fuck you're so hot, can't wait to get my cock in you," he says as he leans back down, attacking your breasts once again as he works his fingers in and out of you. You immediately reach for his cock and begin pumping him, making deliciously lewd noises fall from his mouth.

"Come here sweetheart," he suddenly says pulling away, gesturing for you to sit up. He moves you and positions you into a similar fashion to what you'd done that afternoon but instead of being on top of him, you are laid on the blanket in opposite directions whilst facing each other.

His cock is right in front of your face, flushed pink and leaking precum already, just begging to be sucked. Fred parts your legs with his big hands and moves to rest his head on your thigh, wrapping the other one over his shoulder as he kisses your pussy lips, teasing you. You buck your hips, trying to get more than just butterfly kisses and he immediately reaches up to spank your ass, causing you to let out a gasping moan.

His hand comes up to spread your little lips and he begins giving little kisses to your sensitive clit, swirling his tongue teasingly around the exposed nub as you gasp.

You can't hold back any longer and grab hold of his cock at the base, squeezing gently before wrapping your lips around his cock, swirling your tongue devilishly around the fat head, licking up all the little beads of precum. Fred immediately moans out your name and begins feasting on your cunt perfectly, both of you trying your hardest to please the other. Your paces are slow and unhurried, trying to tease and please the other to give the most pleasure you can.

You can feel your orgasm building as your hips undulate over his face. He moans, sensing your impending release and strokes your thighs as he begins wildly sucking on your clit, tugging gently and licking over the spot repeatedly as his pace increases, keeping perfect rhythm until you cum.

You have to pull off his cock as a loud moan erupts from you, your body completely at the mercy of his as your climax takes over, the white hot flames burning you from the inside out as you shout if his name.

"Fucking hell princess," he gasps, stroking your thighs as you come down from your high, a blissful smile plastered on your face. "So hot when you cum."

Fred leans up and moves to lie beside you again, smiling and kissing you as he sees your little blissful, fucked out smile and heavy eyelids.

"Want you Freddie, please," you moan, reaching for his cock again.

"One time not enough sweetheart? Or do you need my big cock?"

"Need it Freddie, please," you beg, completely overwhelmed by the emptiness you felt, needing to be filled by him.

"I've got you sweetheart," he cooes, pulling you closer to him so that your bodies are directly facing each other. He kissed you passionately, hands wandering as they slip down to your ass again. He squeezes and massages the skin of your ass before reaching down to grab your leg and hitch it over his hip. You gasp at the sudden feel of his heavy length pressed against your pussy, just begging for entry.

You reach down and hold his cock steady at the base before rolling your hips just right so that he sinks into your wet heat, both of you gasping and moaning in sync as the bliss of him stretching you out.

"Oh princess, so tight for me," he gasps, thrusting deeper inside of you until every inch of him was buried inside, making you breathless. "Oh you feel perfect princess, so fucking good."

He begins to thrust in and out and you have to hold back your loud moans which you're sure could be heard all the way back at Hogwarts.

You begin to roll your hips in time with his thrusts and you both immediately cry out at the sensation as you fuck yourself on his cock. His hands come up to grab at your ass, guiding your movements, helping you to roll your ass back and forth as he fucks you deep.

"Fuck Freddie, so good, you're so deep," you moan out as the angle of his cock presses hard against your g-spot with each harsh thrust.

"Princess, y/n," he moans, "not gonna last, you feel so fucking good."

"Cum Freddie, please, want you to cum inside me!"

He begins brutally thrusting into you, abandoning your hip movements as his hands dig deliciously into the skin as he grips you hard. His groans and moans mix with yours as he sets a brutal pace, fucking into you with abandon as he nears his end. He suddenly grips you bruisingly hard and slams your hips down onto him one last time, holding your body tight to him as he buries himself as deep as he can. His face scrunches up deliciously as he cums, the blistering hot cum shooting deep into you as his hands keep you firmly in place as your walls clench around him, another orgasm surprising you and taking over your senses.

As the climax slowly begins to wear off, Fred's grip loosens and he slowly rubs the skin where his hands have been to soothe it. He looks up at you with a wide smile and leans down to press a sweet and gentle kiss to your lips as your hands run over his chest.

"Didn't even need the fireworks," he quips as he leans his forehead on yours. You laugh, causing your muscles to contract around him where he's still inside you and you hear him let out a little gasp of over sensitivity. He slowly pulls out, limp cock now resting between you in his thigh as you both take a few moments to catch your breath before untangling yourselves .

"You never needed fireworks to get me into bed... or the ground I guess," you laugh, sitting up and reaching for your clothes. He smiles, watching you dress with a tenderness that made butterflies spread within you.

"You know, it would be a shame to waste these," he says, sitting up and fiddling with the magical fireworks.

"Alright big boy, clothes on first though," you laugh, chucking his T-shirt towards him. You were surprisingly warm and so opted not to wear the sweater, staying in a T-shirt and your jeans as Fred quickly dressed and started preparing the whizz bangs.

You couldn't help but watch him as he moved with proficiently, seeing him in his element of causing mischief as he lined up the whizzbangs.

Moments later, the enchanted fireworks erupted in the sky with a resounding bang, illuminating the entire sky with a prism of colour. One of the particular fireworks turned into a dragon midair and began circling around the rest of the explosions in the most spectacular sight you'd ever seen.

You sneaked a look at Fred's face seeing him smiling in utter delight which made you feel so proud of him and George at their incredible inventions, forever thankful that you could always get a firsthand show.

When the ash settled, the familiar scent of gunpowder and settling smoke overwhelmed your senses and took you back to the potions classroom, smelling the Amortentia. The scent was so unmistakable, like the smell of an extinguished candle with a little more dry smokiness and a lingering musky that was entirely Weasley's wizzbangs.

"Y/n?" Fred asks, bringing your attention back to him. You realised that whilst you had been spaced out, he'd tied away the leftovers from the fireworks and was now lay back on his elbows with his long legs crossed at the ankle, watching you. "Where did you go pretty girl?"

"Nowhere important," you smiled, lying down with him as you looked back at the Burrow, seeing a couple of lights still on throughout the house. A sense of dread suddenly overwhelmed you. "No one can see us right?"

He laughed and shook his head, "only window that looks out back here is mine and George's," he explains with a smirk, "think he was watching?"

"Fred!" You laughed, hitting his chest at the thought.

"Think he was taking notes on how to please a woman?" He laughs and you nudge him again, throwing him off balance of his elbows, forcing him down. "You didn't argue it, he really that bad?"

"Merlin no, just didn't think you'd want to know all the details about how your twin brother pleases me and how he likes when I-"

""Alright I get the point," he says quickly, pulling a disgusted face at the idea. You had to chuckle as you settled back onto the blanket, sprawling your legs back as you looked up at the stars.

You sneaked a glance over at Fred who was doing the same as you with his eyes closed as he relaxed and thought back to all the times you'd tried to sneak glances at him over the years without him noticing. It was one of those moments when you realised how incredibly lucky you were to have not only Fred but George too, for however long you could have them.

The whizzbang smoke had brought back memories of the Amortentia incident and had stirred something up inside you which was eating away at your happiness, never truly knowing who it was you desired more.

When you and Fred were alone together, it was easy. You'd liked him for years, daydreamed and fantasised about him every chance you could, even so much as scribbling his initials in little notebooks in your younger years like any good schoolgirl would. You'd fantasised of your life together if he ever reciprocated your feelings, your wedding, your future children, all a distant but hopeful thought. It should be easy really, he liked you back and for that you were eternally grateful.

You'd been best friends for years, even closer than you and George had been and it was constantly exciting and passionate, like everyday was a new relationship but without all the awkwardness of learning about each other. Your mischievous best friend turned boyfriend, the constant prank master and joker, always the ringleader; he kept you on your toes at all times, bringing joy and laughter to your life like no other. Your relationship was filled with teasing and witty banter that you hope never faded and you were almost certain that you loved him, and had for a long time.

But then there was George. A prankster and joker at heart but with a stronger conscience and greater moral compass. He was sensitive and kind, at-least more often than Fred tended to be and he was comforting, above all else. George made you feel secure and loved. He was the personification of that feeling after a long, stressful day when you finally got home and could relax, putting on your cosiest, comfiest clothes and shutting out the world as you sought comfort. You'd never anticipated falling for him so hard and just like his brother, you were near certain that you were falling in love with him, if you weren’t already fully there. How were you ever going to chose between them?

"Your thoughts are loud," Fred says and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

"Sorry," you say, turning your attention back to him, "I think I'm just tired."

"Want to go to bed sweetheart?" He asks tenderly, placing his hand on your thigh. You had to admit that going to bed did sound very appealing right now, but you didn't want to cut the cut your little date short.

"Not just yet Freddie," you say, leaning back against him. He hums and extends his arm out to you so that you can lean on it.

"Love when you call me that," he says bashfully, touching the braids on your head as he brushes away the little wisps in your face. You smile up at him and immediately your mind, filled with problems and negative thoughts is calmed and quiet again.

You decide to head in not too long after, throwing everything back into the shopping bag and walked back to the house. You managed to sneak in undetected and immediately head up to the twins' shared bedroom, carefully avoiding the creaking stairs whilst trying not to wake anyone, if they'd been able to sleep through the fireworks at least.

Upon entering the room, you noticed that George had in fact made himself scarce and wouldn't be sleeping here tonight, his pillows gone from the bed. You briefly thought of asking Fred but it was his night with you and you didn't want to bring up any potential conflict. Fred had gone to the toilet and so you took the opportunity to take off your makeup with a wipe and get dressed.

You tossed the jumper in your arms over to the washing hamper and shimmied out of your jeans, replacing them with your sleep shorts. Your T-shirt was switched out to one of Fred's old ones that you kept and you dragged yourself into bed, your tiredness from the night before hitting you like the hogwarts express.

When Fred strolled back into the room, he smiled at seeing you in bed. He tore off his clothes, opting to just sleep in his boxers and climbed into bed behind you. It was strange sleeping without George but you didn't fixate on it, you just hoped that wherever he was, he didn't feel pushed out or alone.

Fred's arm immediately falls over your waist, falling just underneath your breasts as he pulls you tightly to him so that his body is directly connected to your back.

"How do you fit so perfectly in my arms?" He whispers into your ear, musing at the near perfect fit of your body in his. It was true; you suspected that his height versus yours had a lot to do with it but you fit neatly into the plains of his body. Your ass was pressed against his crotch whilst his arm reached perfectly with the curve of your waist, your head slotted right under his head to rest against his chest whilst his arms encased you.

"Maybe you just fit perfectly around me," you smiled into the dark room, feeling him squeeze you tighter at your words.

"Did you have a good time tonight princess?" He asks quietly and you can sense a slight hint of vulnerability in his tone.

"The best Freddie," you answer honestly, "atleast, the fireworks were great." He immediately grabs you and begins tickling your ribs as you fight back, squirming and struggling to hold in your squeals at the horrendous sensation.

"Oh I see how it is, I give you some of my best work and all she remembers is the bloody pyrotechnics," he says dramatically, causing you to roll your eyes.

"It was perfect Fred, every bit," you say quietly, no longer playing around. You twist slightly in his arms to seek out his lips, placing a kiss of sheer gratitude on him.

"This is really nice," Fred says after a few moments of comfortable silence. You hum in agreement, enjoying the peace and the feeling of his arms securely wrapped around you. "One day we'll be able to do this every night," he says, sounding as if he's narrating his thoughts. "When school is over and me and George have opened the shop, you can move in with us and every single night I'll kiss you goodnight and hold you until you fall asleep."

"That sounds perfect," you say with a yawn, feeling as if you could fall asleep within mere seconds.

"And every morning I'll bring you a cup of tea in bed and kiss you before I leave for work," he adds, clearly daydreaming though he sounds increasingly more tired with each word. "You can help me pick out my tie, checking that it matches with my suit. Did I tell you me and George decided we'd wear full suits at the shop? Like real businessmen. Anyway, you'd pick out my tie and straighten it for me before I leave because you know I always leave it wonky."

He tiredly mumbles out more of his dreams and secrets to you in the still, dark room but you don't hear them, having fallen sound asleep, comforted by the sound of his voice as it acts like your own personal lullaby.

#emeritusemeritus #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #harry potter #fred weasley x reader #emeritusemerituswrites #fred weasley imagine #george weasley x you #george weasley #fred weasley masterlist #george weasley x reader x fred weasley #weasley twins x reader #george weasley smut

[lokisprettygirl]

Deadly Locks (Detective! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon Au) (Dark )

Read Chapter 4 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 5

Summary: Feelings resurface and more of your past with daemon is revealed as you take walks through the memory lane.

Trigger Warning: Rape and torture, 18+ , smut, It's a crime thriller so there would be some squeamish dark stuff, read at your own discretion, mention of rape, assault and murder, Speeding and driving under the influence, Reader has long hair, Daemon's hair is up for imagination, Cigarette consumption, some geographical errors

You knew, of course you knew about his past. You had been with him for five years and it took him a long time to open up to you about what he had been through and how awful his early childhood was.

“What does that mean Daemon..i mean what does it have to do with the killer?”

You asked him so he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair,

“I don't know..i mean i am not sure what it means..it could be just a coincidence but–” his eyes teared up so you scooted closer to him and held onto his hand, as he looked down to avoid the tears from slipping down his eyes you wrapped your arms around him and hugged him. That's when he broke down in tears, it wasn't just about this developing theory in his mind but the buildup of every little emotion he had been shoving away since you had broken his heart.

You were taken by a deranged man and he could have lost everything if he had lost you to such a tragedy. He had stayed strong these past few weeks for you, he didn't overreact or cry in your arms when he found you, even though every part of him wanted to fall apart and crumble he kept his cool. But now that you were holding onto him so tenderly like you used to before, he couldn't help but shed tears for everything that could have gone wrong in the past few weeks.

“im sorry..I'm so sorry” he mumbled between his sniffling so you pulled away from him and cupped his cheeks

“Why are you sorry ..you did nothing wrong”

“If I did nothing wrong then how come you're not mine anymore?”

You looked down as he said that, well there were plenty of things he didn't do right in the relationship and that was the reason why you had to let him go but you weren't expecting the conversation to take this turn. He wiped his tears before he got up from the couch to go to the guest room “Sleep well darling”

He mumbled before he left and as soon as he was out of sight you couldn't keep your tears at bay either.

You wanted to go sleep in your room but you didn't want to leave him alone when he felt this way so you walked inside his room, grabbed the comforter and slipped inside. He immediately had his arm around you as if he was waiting for you to do just this

“Talk to me” you mumbled softly. He wasn't good at sharing his troubles, he always wanted to take your problems away but he never really delved into his own.

“About what exactly?” he asked you so you sighed.

“About your mum, you never told me about the lullabies”

“Well there are plenty of details i didn't share because it's not worth my time anymore. I don't want to think about that time in my life”

“Okay then..what does it have to do with the killer?”

“Nothing .. perhaps I'm overthinking “

“It's not like you to overthink these things..you just know”

He couldn't help but smile as you said that to him. His head was a mess but he didn't want to think about it at all, he just wanted to get a peaceful sleep when you were right next to him like this. He had missed sharing a warm bed with you.

“I like this ritual of yours”

“What ritual?” you asked him as you felt confused.

“of you sneaking into my bed”

“Are you flirting with me Detective Daemon?”

“Shush you know I don't flirt”

“Mmhm”

He linked his fingers with yours and you immediately felt relaxed, that was always his way of showing that he cared even if he wasn't good with his words or promises.

And there were days when he really wasn't good with his promises.

You saw the door knob twisting so you wiped your tears, you didn't want him to see how much it had bothered you that he hadn't come home early especially when he had promised you that he would, you picked up the plates from the living room as he entered and you saw the bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand but you didn't say a word and went into the kitchen again.

“Scrappy” he mumbled softly but you didn't respond to him, you pretended to be engrossed in the obsessive cleaning of the kitchen counter.

“Okay..I see you're upset and anxious”

You glared at him as he said that.

And as your eyes welled up again he placed the flowers down on the counter and walked closer to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist to stop you from fidgeting.

“Don't do this. .I'm mad…I'm so very mad at you right now and I don't want to be held or be lured into your apologies and your…just let me go”

Your voice choked on your tears as you spoke to him and his eyes teared up as well. It was your birthday, you wanted him to be there but he got stuck with a case, he had to be at the crime site and he had to document every little thing, he had no clue when time had flown past him.

“No…I'm not letting go ..i know you don't want me to apologize but I'm going to”

“That won't make a difference..”

“I know..”

He wiped your tears from your cheeks as they rolled down incessantly, he despised hurting you this way and ever since he had been promoted he had been making a habit of doing this to you.

“I brought flowers”

“I can see”

“And I got kisses..do you want that? My birthday girl I'm so very sorry –” he mumbled sweetly and that only made you cry harder.

“I ..was drunk and I felt so lonely..”

“You had friends over– i thought “

“I don't need my friends when I'm drunk on my birthday I need you ..” you sniffled as you spoke so he wiped your tears and cupped your cheeks to kiss your forehead.

“Okay I'm sorry sweetheart, I'm sorry, I'm sorry please” he mumbled against your mouth before he kissed you, his fingers clutched into your long hair as he pulled your head back to look at you, he wiped your tears before he dived into the kiss again.

“i miss you i feel like you don't even see me these days” you mumbled against his mouth

“We live together ..I see you everyday”

“That's not what I meant –”

“I know..” he kissed your neck as his hands slipped down your arms and he linked them with yours as tightly as he could, so tight as if he was afraid you'd leave him if wasn't holding onto you like that.

“I see you love…you're all I see..I'm sorry..what can I do hmm? What can I do for you, tell me what I can do to make you happy..my scrappy little love?” He whispered in your ear as he bit on your earlobe so you pulled away from him.

“Well …take a shower, get in bed and then you can show me how sorry you are ..”

Now when he looked back at the day he knew that was the beginning of the worst of it all, he should have been there for you in those little moments and he definitely should have been there with you during those rough days but he wasn't, he chose his work over you, he prioritized his work and he paid for it at the end when you couldn't take his broken promises anymore.

No amount of flowers, or kisses could have brought you back to him so he didn't even try.

Two years ago when you broke his heart and decided to leave he didn't even try to stop you from taking this step because a part of him always felt that you deserved better than him. So much better, you were everything and he was just some guy that didn't even deserve to be your man in the first place.

That night he really wanted to get a peaceful sleep but he couldn't sleep well, he had a dream about his childhood. It was a recurring dream he used to have a lot before, it was just one the earliest memories of his life

His mother had brought a new dress for him, his dada always told him that he was his precious boy but his mama..she never called him that, she always told him he was her pretty little girl, well she only told him that when she felt happy which didn't really happen that often. The dress she had gotten for him didn't look good on him, the make up she did on him didn't flatter him, he was a boy with boyish features and she hated that, she wanted a girl, a pretty girl, she wanted to give birth to a pretty girl like herself but he was a boy.

He saw himself wincing as she pulled on his hair to make pigtails but she got frustrated midway and then she started to scream at him.

“You're fucking ugly,..I can't believe I gave birth to you..no amount of makeup is going to change those hideous features”

She yelled at him but he was so little, so he immediately got scared and ran to her so she'd hold him..she was his mama right?

“Mama mama please don't be angry” she pushed him away as he started to cry and his cries attracted the attention of his father, then he heard them fighting and yelling, it wasn't until years later when he was able to comprehend what his mother was trying to do to him.

**********

Next morning when he woke up he was in a weird mood about the case.

He dropped you at the therapist's office so you wished him a good day at work but after the end of the hour as you stepped out you noticed that he had never left. And that was something you hadn't really expected from him.

As you sat down in the passenger seat you took a good look at him, he wasn't talking and it bothered you that you didn't really understand what was bothering him.

“You don't have to be on my service all the time Daemon. The therapy it's …ummm it's helping and i –”

You stopped speaking as you felt his eyes on you.

“I don't feel pity for you–”

“I never said that–”

“But you're thinking about it.. constantly”

Well he wasn't wrong.

“..I am here because I want to be here..I want to be…close to you”

Your eyes teared up as he said that. A bitter laugh escaped your throat as the memories of the past flooded your mind.

“So you didn't want to be close to me before when you chose your work over me time n again?”

“You have no clue how much I needed you in my life–”

“It didn't really feel that way at times” he sighed as you said that. His knuckles strained as he clutched onto the steering wheel with a death grip.

“I just thought you were mine…for life..for this life ..i thought I had you .. and that you'd always be home no matter at what time I go in there and that was my fault…you didn't deserve a man like that in your life..you didn't deserve to be taken for granted”

You didn't say anything for a while as he said that, he knew where your relationship with him had fallen apart but that didn't hurt you any less. Breaking up with a man you were so crazily in love with wasn't an easy choice to make.

“It was perfect whenever you were there .. everything felt perfect when I had you but I didn't have you with me more than i ever had you with me and that broke my heart..repeatedly”

That day when you went home he told you that he'd come early in the evening and that you didn't have to worry as the cops were outside the house. You were getting bored out of your mind so you looked around the house, he still had his work desk in the living room, the desk that used to put him up at nights a lot of times that he wouldn't even get in bed with you.

You opened the drawer under the desk and there was a picture of you and him from seven years ago. It was taken in a club, you remembered that day clear as today because of the conversation you had with him. He really was an enigma during those early stages of your relationship with him. He still was the same but he was your enigma, the woman you were now knew that man inside out unlike the woman in the picture.

“Shots shots shots..lets go” Donna yelled amidst the loud music so you all took a shot, your face scrunched in disgust at the bitter content of the glass. You were at a nightclub with your friend group to celebrate Donna's engagement. She was engaged to this high profile detective named Otto Hightower, even though he was much older than her they made a perfect pair.

“Oh there he is …your weird police guy” you glared at her as she said that.

“He's not weird…shutup”

“Well he sure looks as if he has never step a foot in a club”

You shook your head as you stepped down from the stool and swam between the crowd of people to get to him, as soon as he saw you there was a clear sign of instant relief on his face.

You had been dating him for just two months, there were still things you didn't know about him.

“Hey there” you hugged him before you kissed him and he was taken aback for a moment before he reciprocated. He had a black leather jacket on with blue jeans and he looked hot as hell. And you really wanted him to stop being such a gentleman and fuck you tonight.

“Are you drunk already?” he asked you as he pulled away from you so you tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Maybe.. want to take advantage of me, officer?”

His brows furrowed as you said that before he realized that you were joking, his cheeks turned pink so he looked down but then he looked around, he felt like an alien in that place.

“What is it?” You giggled as you spoke to him so he shook his head.

“Nothing..i…what are we supposed to do here?” he asked you, there was a tinge of nervousness in his voice.

“Dancing of course.. and drinking of course”

“Alright..” you smiled as you looked at him before your brows raised curiously

“Ummm Daemon?”

“Hmmm?”

“You have been to clubs before right?” His face flushed again as you questioned him and as you noticed that he was embarrassed you quickly pulled him closer to kiss him. “Godd You're so adorable.. i love you” his eyes widened as you said that to him but then you were drunk so he didn't take your words to heart even though he really wanted to.

“You're drunk” you giggled as he said that. Did you just confess your love for him? Yeah you did.

“So first time huh?”

“Yeah I'm sorry..are you going to make fun of me with your friends when you go back there..” he asked you and it made you smile.

“Do I seem like that girl?”

“What girl?”

“The type who'd make fun of her boyfriend behind his back?”

“No..you're .. amazing.. and beautiful and an angel..though you piss me off at times when you're being all scrappy and reckless but I love that..i love everything about you and i love you ..ummm no sorry you don't seem the type to do such a thing”

A wide smile graced your features as you heard him rambling.

“And you're not even drunk”

Before you could make him blush further he cupped your cheeks and kissed you deeply. You were too much at times, too good for him, too sweet to him, too affectionate verbally and physically that he felt suffocated by your sheer energy around him but then he was getting addicted to that feeling, it got him all high and floaty in his head.

But he obviously didn't fuck you that night.

He was on his way home early like he had promised when he received a very frantic call from Rebecca, she sounded utterly distressed and that worried him.

“Daemon I'm so scared there's a man outside and I don't know what he wants” her voice was full of fear as she spoke on the phone.

“Where are the cops dear?”

“They're not here…I don't know “

He immediately turned the car around as she said that. He had promised to look out for her and he didn't want anything to happen to her. As soon as he reached her house he saw the police car outside the house so he went to talk to them and reprimanded them for leaving but they told him that they had been there throughout their shift and at least one of them had stayed in the past three hours.

He wanted to check on her now that he was there so he knocked on her door and when she opened she seemed fine, albeit a bit scared.

“Rebecca are you alright?” He asked her so she grabbed his arm and pulled him inside the house before she locked it.

“Somebody was out there Daemon I'm so scared” she immediately hugged him and put him off immediately.

“I talked to my guys out there …they said they were here”

She pulled away to look at him as he said that.

“No they…they're lying..why would I lie ?”

She started to cry again so he placed his hands on her shoulders to comfort her.

“I am not saying that you lied…let's just…sit down and get you some water okay?” He made her sit down on the couch and brought her a glass of water from the kitchen.

“I don't trust them…they look at me weirdly and it's just–”

“Did they do something? Said something?”

“No but please I can't be alone..I just feel so scared all the time–”

“I know it's tough but I have promised that I won't let him hurt you again right?”

She nodded as he said that before she held onto his hand and stood up to hug him again.

“I feel safe with you..i know you'd never hurt me..”

He didn't really know how to react as she clutched onto him. She has been through hell and he didn't want to add to it but she really needed to set a boundary.

“Rebecca I need you to listen to me, I'm doing my best to catch him and I won't rest until I have him”

He pulled her away from him but she didn't let go, instead she leaned into him to kiss him, that's when he knew he had to speak up.

“What are you doing?” He asked her sternly, his voice changed from the usual calm to suddenly agitated

“I see the way you look at me Daemon, and I feel the same–”

“You're wrong, so absurdly wrong here. Jesus …get off me” he walked out of the house immediately after that. He didn't really want to deal with this situation when he had a million other things in his mind.

When he came back home he found you in the kitchen making dinner and his sullen mood got better instantly. His life would have been so much better if you still belonged to him.

“Are you okay?” You asked him so he hummed and went to the bedroom to take a shower. The sketch he had gotten made for the woman in the killer's house was everywhere but if it was the killer himself then he knew it would be hard to find him without that wig and heavy makeup even though the whole city was on high alert.

After dinner as you went to your cold bed you tried to sleep there even though you just wanted to sneak into his bed like you had done for the past nights. The ring was still on your mind, the way he talked to you today made you feel as if he still wanted you in his life but then it had been two years. Nothing has changed, he still was the same busy workaholic man that you had left for your own good but he was trying to be there for you. He was handling the biggest case of his life but he was still making time for you and you knew he was trying.

You just didn't understand why.

About an hour later as you heard your door knob twisting you closed your eyes and pretended to sleep. His footsteps reached closer to the bed and then the familiar scent of his tom ford cologne filled your senses. The mattress dipped as he sat down on the bed and you felt the tension around him, not the kind you'd have wanted though. You could just feel that he was tense and worried. Perhaps overwhelmed.

Like a gentleman he covered you with the duvet before he ran his fingers through your hair and then kissed your forehead.

“Goodnight scrappy”

Before he could get away you reached out for him to grab his forearm and he turned around to look at you.

“Always a gentleman aren't you?” You gave him a small smile so he returned it before he sat down again “What's bothering you?”

“Just work, there's a lot of pressure, Otto told me that they'd be bringing in another detective on the case to aid me because I'm not getting anywhere”

You sat up as he said that.

“He can't do that, he knows how valuable you are for his team..you're not just another policeman, you're gifted and i know sooner or later you'd get him”

“Apparently not because I'm so clueless right now”

“Now isn't forever, you're clueless in the moment but you'll get there i know” he gave you a small smile as you motivated him.

“I really want to bring justice to those women but most of all you–”

“I know –”

Your eyes teared up so he placed his hand on your cheek and as he rubbed his thumb over your skin you couldn't help but lean into the touch.

“Were you going to call me ..on my birthday?” you asked him out of nowhere so he took a moment before he answered you.

“I really wanted to..I only thought of you all night long, a part of me felt something but I chalked it up to anxiety.. would you have invited me?”

“Not if you were seeing someone”

He chuckled as you said that.

You didn't say a word after that but laid down and then moved to the side so he could get into the bed with you and he didn't deny either. You maintained your distance for a good five minutes before you scooted closer to him and he wrapped his safe protective arm around you. And just like that both of you felt better. So much better.

A week later there was a Christmas party being held at the precinct so he asked you if you'd like to go with him.

Now you had been to plenty of parties with him before but you were his girlfriend back then, you knew the guys he worked with but you also knew that they won't look at you the same way after what you had been through. You still accepted his invitation, however as you got dressed up after a long time and put the makeup on, you felt nervous and scared, you didn't want to go anymore.

When he entered the room and saw you in that red and black dress his breath shuddered but then he also saw tears in your beautiful eyes so he walked closer to you.

He had a formal black suit on and he looked handsome as ever, when you had met him he was so young and boyish like most men are in their early twenties but now he had filled into his looks and that had only made him more handsome if it was possible.

“I think you should go alone” you said to him so he sighed,

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing I just…I don't want to freak out over something and embarrass you–”

You walked past him as you mumbled so he followed you in the living room. He found you rearranging his desk and he knew you felt anxious, that's what you did whenever you felt so extremely anxious that you were close to panicking.

“Y/n–” he called your name so you spoke immediately.

“Just go ..I'm fine i promise.. you'll get late”

“Y/n” he closed the distance between you two and turned you around so you'd keep your eyes on him. He sat you down on the desk by hoisting you up before he cupped your cheeks between his palms.

“Breathe darling..you're okay..you're okay i promise”

He cooed in your ears so you wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly. You weren't always like this but that man had changed you forever, you didn't even know if you'd ever get your old self back or if you'd ever feel the way you used to about life. A life where you didn't feel such immense fear all the time. Once your breathing leveled down you pulled away from him

“Thank you” you mumbled softly so he leaned down to kiss your forehead but he couldn't stop staring at your lips, your fingers traced from his chin to the outline of his tie as you looked up at him.

“You could never embarrass me, i need you to remember that alright?”

You nodded as he said that “We don't have to go, we'll stay here–”

“You should go Daemon-”

“No. I'm not leaving again”

“Then I'll come ..let's go..I'm fine i promise..I want to go out and i don't want to be so afraid”

“Are you sure?” He asked you softly so you nodded in response “I'd be there, right next to you”

On the way to the party you couldn't stop staring at him. He wanted to kiss you right? You didn't imagine or make believe the way he looked at you, right? Did he still feel anything for you? Love maybe? Maybe you should just confront him about the ring because if he had someone in his life you'd hate to be the sort of person that'd wreck a relationship.

But if he had someone would he keep you in his home? Sleep with you in the same bed? Would he take you to the party when he could have taken his girlfriend? You felt crazy, absolutely crazy having all these thoughts in your head.

As you reached the venue there were several familiar faces around and they all smiled at you which made you feel slightly at ease.

“They will think we are back together”

He chuckled as you said that.

“Wouldn't be the worst thing in the world”

As soon as Donna spotted you she came to hug you, and Otto wished you Merry Christmas as well to which you responded with a greeting and a smile. You wanted to go get a drink so you excused yourself. Daemon had offered to bring it for you but you didn't want to be so dependent on him .

“She seems better”

Donna said to Daemon so he looked at you as you were getting your drink made at the bar.

“She's healing slowly”

“Man i have to ask..what's going on between you two?” she asked him so he chuckled in response.

“Nothing. We are friends I think”

“Oh really” she let out a laugh so he rolled his eyes at her. He watched you from a distance as Torres met up with you. Torres was in school with you and then she worked as a traffic police officer along with him so you both knew her, she had moved on to work in law a few years ago. He watched you smile as you talked to her and his eyes teared up.

“She doesn't giggle anymore” Daemon spoke under his breath so Donna looked at him.

“What?”

“She used to giggle..all the time..she doesn't do that anymore..that saddens me” she sighed as he said that.

“Well that's more to do with you then what happened..she never really was the same since the night of her birthday two years ago”

She was your friend ofcourse she knew. As Torres approached him he composed himself and hugged her as he hadn't seen her in a while.

“Where's Jake?” He asked Torres so she looked around.

“Your trainee? Ahh I saw him outside with a girl ..”

Daemon smiled as she said that. Jake was a shy decent guy and never really got involved with women that often so that came as a surprise.

As his phone rang in his pocket he excused himself and stepped away to pick it up as the call was from an unknown number and the voice on the other side was unrecognizable.

“You don't recognise me do you brother..? We have met already though” as soon as Daemon heard that he looked around “Don't bother tracing the call, i won't be around too long. Just wanted to send you my wishes for the festival and tell y/n that I miss her sloppy cunt, too bad i wasn't able to skin her alive”

Daemon's jaw clenched in anger as he heard the killer's voice for the first time. The way he talked about you only fueled his anger further.

“You really think you're so bloody clever huh?”

Daemon said as he felt utterly pissed off. However what the killer said next confused him for a moment but then it also made things pretty transparent for him. He knew where he had to go for all the answers that he was so desperately searching for.

“Ohh by the way give my regards to mother when you see her next”

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Taglist

@daddylokisqueen @iamavailablesstuff @123forgottherest @mcufan72 @shuichiakainx @avalyaaa @ajthefujoshi @tatertati-fangirl @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fudge134 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @ammo23

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x reader smut #daemon targaryen x reader fluff #daemon targaryen x reader angst #non canon au #modern day au #modern daemon targaryen #tw rape #dark fic

[slasher-male-wife]

Horror characters with an s/o in a band head canons

Sorry for barely posting. I say this every time I post but I've been very busy lately with a lot of stuff but I'm still trying to find time to write time for y'all. So for these head canons I'm just putting a blanket statement of the reader is in a rock band. Also I'm looking into writing for fem readers as I explore my own gender identity. But reader's gender isn't specified in this.

Includes: Corey Cunningham, Tiffany Valentine, Amanda Young, Billy Loomis, and Martin Mathias

Content includes: Possessive behavior, murder mentions, implied murder, mentions of saw traps in Amanda's section, brief 'stalking' mentions, not proof read

Corey Cunningham

Pre-Michael he's going to feel a little awkward going into a show that you're playing at. If you play something like shoe gaze or some kind of softer rock music he won't feel as awkward going into to see you preform but if you play harder rock or even metal he's going to feel very out of place.

Pre-Michael Corey would also try his hardest to learn about whatever instrument you play for the band or if you sing he'll try his best to learn about singing and the best way to do it without hurting your vocal cords. He'll do his research on what you do because he wants to be the best supportive boyfriend he can be.

Pre-Michael Corey won't really get jealous of people cheering you on or being supportive of your music. He understands that they just enjoy your music and they want to show their support for you. After all, he's the one who gets to go back stage with you and to all the practices. He's really the lucky one.

Post Michael however is a different story. Now he's more open to whatever music you play. Even if it's harder music like metal or some kind of hard/alternative rock he's down for it. I wouldn't say he'd get in a mosh pit or anything like that anytime soon.

When he's post Michael he'll still keep knowledge about whatever instrument you play or how to take care of you if you sing. He'll become a little obsessive about it, going with you to every band practice or he'll watch you from somewhere else while you practice. Same goes for when you're at home. If you don't want him there you won't know that he's there.

Post Michael Corey is also a little more protective when it comes to your fans. Now he knows that you won't have that many fans that push boundaries with you, but any that try to push boundaries with you on this are going to pay the price.

Tiffany Valentine

Tiffany (in my opinion) is a gothic rock, post punk, dark wave, other goth music genres kind of girl. So if you play any of those kinds of music genres she's more than happy to go to one of your shows and support you there.

She will happily tell anyone listening that her lovely s/o is in the band playing on stage and that you're super talented, and it doesn't matter if they care about it or not, she's proud of you and she cares.

She might not know much about music but I can promise you that she's going to try her best to help you with practicing whatever instrument you play or whatever you need help with that's music related.

If you want her to go to your band practices with you she's all for that. She's happy to sit in and listen to whatever you're working on, it's not like she's going to tell anyone what you're doing, she'd never do you dirty like that.

She WILL be dressing up for all of your shows. It doesn't matter how big or small they are she needs to represent you and how well you treat her. She also just really likes getting dressed up to go out and this is an excuse to do that.

If you have band merch she will also wear it. Even if it's just some shirt with your band name or logo on it then she'll wear it while she sleeps or some other time. She prefers more feminine clothes so she might go as far as to paint on your band name and or logo onto some old dress she has just for fun.

Amanda Young

Amanda is a metalhead plain and simple. She likes harder music and if you play harder music she'll be happy to go to your show. If you play slower music, she hopes you won't take offense, but she might not go to all of your shows.

She might not go to all of your shows anyway because she's busy with her jigsaw work but she'll try to see at least a couple of your shows every time you have some.

I feel like if you're stuck on lyrics or where to go with a song she'll be there to help you with it. She might not be the most knowledgeable on music but she's going to try her best to help you get out of that rut.

If you need a song name she'll suggest something based off a trap she's made or just a trap in general. "What about 'knob twister'?" "What about Venus Fly Trap?" But she'll be more subtle with it if you're unaware of her being a jigsaw apprentice.

She won't take any of the other apprentices to your shows, she'll honestly keep you pretty separate from her 'work life' outside of telling John about you. If any of them somehow find out about you and your band she will get very defensive of you and she will swear if Hoffman ever goes to one of your shows she's going to put him in a reverse bear trap.

She won't get super jealous of fans of your music unless they start pushing boundaries. She gets people being fans of your work and wanting to meet you and stuff, but if they end up getting a little too far 'into' your music she may or may not put them in a trap.

Billy Loomis

It's the 90's and just like look at him, he's probably going to be into that slower, more shoegaze kind of stuff, he's the og male manipulator in more ways than one.

He'll try to be open to the kind of music that you play but if it doesn't interest him he probably won't be going to every single one of your shows. He'll make up excuses about having to do stuff for school and whatever.

But don't get it twisted, if anyone tries to make fun of you for the kind of music you play they're gonna meet ghostface real soon. Just because he might not be into your music it doesn't mean that other people are allowed to be mean to you about it.

This also applies to fans of your band who try and get a little too close to you for Billy's comfort. He understands that you're going to have fans of your music but that doesn't mean people are going to just get away with being obsessed with you, that's his job god damn it!

But if he's being as possessive as he usually is he'll have Stu go to one of your shows for him just to check things out and make sure nothing bad is happening there. He doesn't think you're going to cheat on him, he trusts you, he just doesn't trust other guys, unless it's Stu.

He'll play down how much he really does care about your music. He tries to keep up this kind of 'whatever' 'cool guy' persona but he really does care about your music and he might stalk you a little bit and just watch you at your band practices for fun.

#corey cunningham x reader #tiffany valentine x reader #amanda young x reader #billy loomis x reader #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction

[fluentmoviequoter]

Christmas on the Clock

Day 12 of 12 Days of Ficmas

Summary: Deacon gets called into work on Christmas Eve, and you (his neighbor) watch his kids until he gets back with a special Christmas gift.

Warnings: fluff, canon typical danger and action, Annie's fate is up to you (I personally imagined the story as if she hadn't recovered in season 1 but I think divorce would work too)

Word Count: 3k+ words

A/N: I cannot believe it's the end of the 12 fics already! I hope you've enjoyed them and thank you for reading!! I've tried my hand at a few new characters this month and appreciate the feedback and encouragement more than you know. Enjoy and Merry Christmas!

(PS check out this post if you'd like to participate the in the unofficial after party!)

Matthew, Lila, and Samuel are Deacon’s pride and joy… and some of the cutest kids you’ve ever seen. As Christmas grows nearer, you’ve seen more of them around Deacon’s house, and they never fail to put a smile on your face. Deacon moved in next door to you a few years ago after some familial issues that you never pried about. Deacon has his kids with him most of the time, is a good dad and neighbor, and is certainly not hard to look at, so you have no complaints. Being so close puts you in the perfect position to offer to watch his kids if he ever had to leave suddenly, an occurrence which isn’t unusual in his line of work. It took some persuading, but Deacon eventually took you up on the offer, and you watch the kids occasionally and pick them up from school several times a month. Every time he comes to pick them up or you walk them home, he tries to pay you, not understanding that time in his presence and with his amazing family is the only compensation you will ever need.

As you exit your car, back from a Christmas shopping trip, you hear someone yell your name. Your smile appears when you see Lila racing across your front yard. She crashes against your torso, wrapping her arms tightly around you before tilting her head back to give you a gap-toothed smile.

“Hey, Lila,” you greet, happily returning her hug.

“Sorry about that,” Deacon apologizes as he approaches.

You shake your head at him and smile, a hand still resting on Lila’s back.

“What did you buy?” Lila asks, looking at the bags in your car.

“Just some boring Christmas stuff, nothing you’d be interested in.”

“Any toys, like trucks?” Matthew asks, appearing beside Deacon.

“Or Nerf guns?” Samuel adds.

“Hmm,” you hum, pretending to think. “I think there might be, but I can’t remember. I know I bought a turkey, and some new ornaments, some mistletoe… and, yes, I remember, I bought a few toys. But they have to be wrapped first, right?”

Deacon’s eyebrows raise at the word ‘mistletoe.' Though you notice, you keep your eyes on his kids to minimize the heat crawling up your neck at his attention.

“We should let you get back to that wrapping then. Right, kids?” Deacon interjects.

You nod at him, giving Lila one more hug before waving them off with wishes of a Merry Christmas and promising to bring them treats if you bake anything.

Looking over his shoulder, Deacon mouths, “Thank you.”

You smile, responding with a silent, “Anytime."

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon’s phone ringing tears his attention away from his Christmas dance with Lila. He groans when he sees Hondo’s name on his phone.

“Sergeant Kay,” he answers, apologizing to Lila with furrowed brows.

“I’m so sorry to do this on Christmas, I know you’re with the kids, but we need you down here. Now,” Hondo explains. “There’s a hostage situation with kids in a mall.”

Looking at his own kids, Deacon nods. “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up and grabs his keys. “I have to go to work for a little bit.”

“But it’s Christmas Eve,” Matthew says, setting his homemade Christmas ornament aside.

“I know, buddy. But I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?” he asks, kneeling and brushing Matthew’s hair aside.

Matthew nods, and Samuel hugs Deacon.

“What about us?” Lila inquires.

“I’m going to ask you favorite neighbor to keep you company.”

Lila perks up at the idea of you coming over to spend time with her, if only slightly. Her dad is leaving on Christmas Eve, after all, and she’s distantly aware of the fact that he may not come home for Christmas or at all. That’s a lot for a little girl to think about so close to the happiest day of the year.

“Can we finish Rudolph when you get home?” Samuel asks.

“Absolutely. We’ll make hot chocolate, and we can all sit together to finish Rudolph,” Deacon assures. “It is Christmas.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You answer the phone after the second ring, slightly breathless from hanging garland.

“Hey,” Deacon greets. “I know it’s Christmas Eve but I just got called in and-“

You cut him off and say, “I’ll be right over.”

“Thank you,” he breathes out.

You hang up and grab the small bag you keep in your closet for times like this. After the first emergency call, you’d had to take the kids to your house while you gathered some things, unsure how long you’d be with them. Since then, you’ve narrowed it down to a few must-haves that fit in a small backpack. You’re always ready to run when Deacon calls.

Lila is standing in the doorway when you walk onto Deacon’s porch.

“Daddy has to go to work but he said he’ll be back to watch Rudolph with us,” she states.

You lock eyes with Deacon over her head and see his sadness and disappointment.

“Of course, he will,” you agree.

“Sometimes his work takes longer than he thinks. Christmas is tomorrow.”

You set your bag beside the door and kneel, eye-to-eye with Lila as you say, “But we have Christmas magic this time, right? Your dad will be home for Christmas, even if I have to go get him with my own sleigh.”

Lila smiles and grabs your hand, turning to hug Deacon before he leaves. She hears her brothers trying to pick a board game to play with you and releases both you and her dad to go help them. Deacon stops beside you, looking between you and his kids.

“Thank you,” he says again.

“It’s not a problem, Deacon. I’m always happy to do it.”

He nods and picks up his keys, but you place a hand on his bicep to stop him in the doorway.

“Be careful,” you whisper as he leaves.

He nods and smiles, his hand rising to rest over yours. “Always. Merry Christmas.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“There’s at least 50 hostages. A mall Santa, couple kids, parents, plus the few employees still there,” Hondo explains.

“I thought all stores closed early on Christmas Eve,” Street grumbles.

“Welcome to the age of greed and capitalism,” Luca states. When everyone turns to look at him, he asks, “A little too much like Buck, wasn’t it?”

Hondo shrugs and answers, “Stay liquid.”

When Black Betty reaches the side of the mall, Hondo and Deacon approach the first responders and check the thermal imaging they had captured to attempt a headcount.

“I’m getting everyone home for Christmas, but we’re breaching early,” Hondo announces.

His promise means something, even if it’s an impossible guarantee. Getting home for Christmas is the only thing on everyone’s mind.

“The hostages are gathered in the center of the mall, where Santa’s village is set up. We breach the south entry, come from the west and get our suspects down,” Hondo continues.

“Flashbang?” Luca asks.

Hondo gives an affirmative while Deacon looks at the layout.

“Hondo, I agree with approaching for the west, but I have an idea,” Deacon says.

“Let’s hear it.”

“What if we walk in the front door? It should be unlocked, they won’t expect it, and it’s far enough to the west they won’t see us or hear us.”

Hondo looks at the thermal blueprint and nods. “Change of plans. Enter west, travel east, flashbang and get our suspects on the ground before Santa can say ‘Ho, ho, ho’! Everyone clear?”

“Yes, sir!” 20 David agrees.

As they approach the main entry, the automatic doors slide open, not a sound from within audible. Hondo nods at Deacon before Street sends a tap from the back, signaling that the team is ready for entry. Deacon takes a deep breath and remembers his promise, home for Rudolph.

✯✯✯✯✯

The sun sets as you finish playing Candy Land with Lila and Matthew. Samuel has opted to be on a team with you, coloring until you ask for his help. As the night grows darker, Lila’s eyes keep going to the front door, waiting for her dad to return.

“Do you guys want to watch a movie?” you ask.

“We’re waiting to finish Rudolph with Dad,” Matthew answers.

“I see,” you reply with a nod. “Then what about a book? I have lots of Christmas books at my house.”

“Like what?” Samuel asks.

“Let’s see… How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Eloise at Christmastime, Frosty the Snowman, Olive the Other Reindeer.”

“Who’s Eloise?” Lila interjects.

“She’s a little girl, a lot like you actually, who spends Christmas in a grand hotel with her nanny, her turtle, her dog, and a lot of friends.”

“I like the Grinch,” Matthew adds.

“Maybe we could read both?” you offer.

The kids nod before yawning, and your heart sinks a little (but doesn’t shrink; you’re not to Grinch levels of despair just yet) as you realize Deacon won’t be home before they fall asleep. He always lets you know when he’s out of harm’s way and when he’s on the way home, but you haven’t gotten either of those texts yet. Matthew, Lila, and Samuel promise to stay where they are while you run across Deacon’s lawn and into your house, gathering the bag of gifts, a case of baking supplies, and the stack of Christmas books before returning.

“You look like Santa,” Samuel says, laughing as he points at the big bag tossed over your shoulder.

“It is Christmas,” you reply, smiling as Lila and Matthew join the laughter.

✯✯✯✯✯

No one expected the suspects to be patrolling the entrances, so when Hondo sees the first, 20 David falls back into a store to regroup.

“We’re flashbang-ing anyway, why not go early?” Luca poses.

“It’s not a terrible idea,” Hondo sighs.

“What if Street and I go around to the other side and we get ‘em from both sides?” Deacon suggests.

“That’s a better idea,” Hondo says. “Sorry, Luca. Radio when you’re in position.”

As Deacon and Street move silently through the empty, dark hallways of the mall, passing a toy store, Deacon thinks about all the presents his kids will be getting tomorrow and how they’ve never asked for more than they needed. He misses them, so he needs to stay focused and get the job done to go home to you and the kids. When he envisions getting home, it never involves you leaving to go back to your place next door. Thinking of home, you’re always there, and Deacon finally realizes why.

✯✯✯✯✯

“The end,” you finish quietly, closing the fourth finished book as the Kay children rest peacefully in their dad’s bed.

It was the only spot where they could all lie down to listen to the stories, so you hadn’t argued. Besides, Deacon could carry them to bed if he needed to. You’ve grown worried for him, checking your phone every few minutes to see if he’s provided an update. Closing the door gently behind you, you enter the kitchen and begin baking. Quiet Christmas music fills Deacon’s kitchen and living room as you arrange your gifts to the Kays beneath their tree and place cookie dough on a baking sheet. Your phone vibrates, and you practically dive for it, praying for a Christmas miracle.

✯✯✯✯✯

 Street and Luca coordinate their flashbangs so both sides of the crowd are disoriented. Screams and threats tangle with each other in the smoke, but Tan, Chris, and Deacon get the three suspects to the ground and remove their weapons quickly. Deacon sees the children in Santa’s village as he hauls the handcuffed man to his feet.

“What kind of a monster does this on Christmas Eve?” he grumbles.

“It’s just another day, man,” the criminal in his hold argues.

“No, it’s not. Especially not to them,” Deacon snaps, gesturing toward the terrified children clinging to their parents.

As he passes the man off to another officer to be transported to his home for the holidays, county jail, a small hand tugs on Deacon’s pants. He looks toward the hand, surprised to see a girl not much younger than Lila looking up at him with wide eyes.

He bends his knees, squatting in before her as he removes his helmet. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi. Thank you for saving us,” she says quietly.

“Not a problem, it’s actually my job.”

“Like a superhero?”

“Sort of like a superhero.”

“I asked for a superhero costume for Christmas.”

Deacon looks over at the young couple watching the girl and nods at them. They return it, expressing their gratitude with hands joined over their hearts.

“Well, after seeing how brave you were today, I’m sure you’ll get one.”

“Merry Christmas,” the girl says before running to her parents.

“Merry Christmas,” he calls, standing.

“Get out of here, you have your own kids to wish merry Christmases to,” Hondo demands, slapping Deacon’s shoulder.

“Thanks. Merry Christmas, guys!” he tells his team, rushing outside to get home.

If he’s lucky, he’ll make it before midnight.

✯✯✯✯✯

The phone vibration was just a random notification. You’ve made two batches of cookies, rearranged the gifts, and paced the living room twelve times since then, waiting to hear something.

“I need to calm down,” you tell yourself, returning to the kitchen to frost some cookies.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon turns into his driveway, smiling when he sees you turned all his Christmas lights on. He's unsure whether or not it was because of his children nagging you. Grabbing a gift bag from the passenger seat, Deacon exits his car and walks into his house, met by Christmas music, the smell of cookies, and the sight of you in his kitchen. He decides that you fit perfectly, even if he’s not sure where.

You’re humming along to the music playing from your phone, oblivious to his entry. A gift bag lands on the counter before a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist.

You turn quickly, your eyes wide until you see the big brown eyes you’ve grown to love.

“You scared me,” you accuse quietly, setting the piping bag of icing to the side.

“Sorry.”

He doesn’t look or sound very sorry, but his arms are still around you, so don't care.

“I brought you something,” he says after looking at you for a moment.

“Oh, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

He looks pointedly at the pile of gifts under the tree that was not there when he left.

“Most of those are for Lila, Matthew, and Samuel,” you point out.

“Well then we’ll be even,” he says, passing you the bag.

You tear your eyes away from his as you pull a small snow globe from the bag. Inside is a replica of the park down the street.

“The place we met?” you ask, your voice low.

Deacon smiles. “It’s got a lot of good memories. There’s more.”

You carefully set the snow globe aside, looking at it until you feel the card in the bag. Deacon takes the empty bag, his arms returning to hold you as you read the note. It’s more of a list of occasions and things he likes about you or is thankful for.

“What is this?” you ask.

“An opening to tell you that I’m falling in love with you,” he whispers.

“Are you sure?”

His eyes widen as his smile grows. “This isn’t a spur of the moment decision; I ordered that snow globe a few weeks ago because I finally realized and am ready to admit it. It’s time to move on, and I want to do that with you. Only if you want that, too, of course.”

You turn away from him, feeling his grip on your waist falter as you set the card down. Turning back, you lean into his arms and wrap your arms around him.

“I want to be with you every day for the rest of my life, Deacon. I’m falling in love with you,” you whisper in his ear.

You pull back to say more, but his lips meet yours, and the words die on your tongue. You can show him instead, you suppose. He kisses you, and it feels like home. Everything that Christmas is supposed to be is in Deacon’s kiss, his hold on you, how you feel like you’re home in his arms. It’s perfect, and you want it to last forever, but no good things do.

Your phone timer buzzes, and you reluctantly pull away to turn it off. As you lean back in for more, Deacon chuckles.

“What was that for?” he asks.

“The other batch of frosting is ready to be used.”

He looks over at the cookies cooling by the oven. The human shapes represent his family: he is the bigger one, Samuel and Matthew are shorter, and Lila has a built-in skirt shape.

“Where’s your cookie?” he asks.

“I might have eaten it.”

He laughs again, and you press your face against his neck.

“I needed to make sure they turned out okay,” you argue halfheartedly, losing yourself in the feeling of his hands on your back.

"That's where the mistletoe went," he muses as he looks up.

"Couldn't leave it at my empty place," you point out.

"No, that wouldn't do," he agrees playfully before kissing you again.

✯✯✯✯✯

Christmas morning, as Lila, Matthew, and Samuel open their gifts with both you and their dad, they are happier than Whoville after Christmas is returned. Deacon tells you several times that you bought them too much stuff, and you disagree every time.

He leans in to give you another kiss as gratitude for his gifts. Lila sees and giggles, and you send her a quick wink, smiling as she walks to you, hugging you and thanking you for the great gifts. After all the presents have been opened, Deacon ends up at the bottom of a dogpile while Rudolph plays on the television screen. You’re tucked beside him, like part of the family, and he realizes where exactly you fit: in his house, life, and his arms.

You are the luckiest recipient of all the perfect gifts unwrapped because you got a happily ever after wrapped in an LAPD SWAT uniform.

#fluentmoviequoter12daysoffics #david deacon kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #deacon kay fluff #david deacon kay #deacon kay #fem!reader #swat cbs

[ofduskanddreams]

Take Me If You Can [teaser]

Happy Halloween! This is not a trick, just a treat for all of you <3 Kinky canon-verse Azris is coming soon, though not quite in time to qualify as a kinktober fic. Minors DNI. Please be mindful of the warnings before clicking beyond the break. This isn't as edited as my usual stuff so please be kind to me.

I used my usual Azris taglist for this but if this snippet isn't your vibe than please disregard the tag. Have a great Halloween :)

CONTENT WARNINGS: CNC (Consensual Non-Consent,) violence, fighting, chasing/hunting, bondage, primal play, making the fae be FAE™, degradation, cutting off clothes, teasing, faebane is involved, toxic masculinity.

Azriel feels the faebane enter his bloodstream immediately, his shadows fade and the stones on the backs of his hands lose their light. As usual, his first reaction is panic. And since Azriel is no coward, he’ll choose fight over literal flight every time. His lungs tighten, gaze searching for any sign of the Autumn male as his heart beats too quickly. Even though this is something he chose, something he asked for, has begged for before, it still goes against every instinct that has kept him alive for the past five and a half centuries.

“You know you can make things easier for yourself any time, Shadowsinger.”

Eris’s voice echoes off the trees, the bastard is using a spell that makes it impossible for Azriel to guess his location because the sound surrounds him.

“Just say the word,” Eris taunts, “or stay still for once like a good little brute and let me catch you.”

Stay still? Like hell he will. Azriel takes off, sprinting across the cushion of fallen needles and moss.

He sidesteps a tree root arching out of the loamy earth, air already sawing in and out of his lungs.

Eris’s laugh sounds from somewhere in front of him. Azriel skids on the soil, turning so quickly he has to push himself off a sap-sticky trunk to stop from crashing into it.

“Running is pointless, you know?”

And Azriel hates himself for the way that coldly arrogant voice, those unmistakably posh vowels, sends a bolt of desire shooting down his spine.

“You will never outrun me. If you try to hide, I will find you. If you try to fly away, I will winnow to you in an instant and take you someplace where no one will hear the way you’ll be screaming for me by the end of the night.”

Azriel runs faster, eyes adjusting to the rapidly darkening forest. He thinks there’s a lake nearby and starts heading in that direction. If he can get to any kind of clearing, he’ll stand a better chance.

Eris doesn’t stop trying to bait him, still projecting his voice so it hits Azriel from every direction.

“You’re nothing without your magic, Shadowsinger. You’re just a helpless male. A coward running instead of facing me. Without your shadows, without your power, you’re useless. What good is a spymaster who can’t spy? A soldier who’s too scared to fight?”

Azriel sees a glimmer through the trees up ahead—moonlight on rippling water.

“What chance do you, a powerless brute, have against me—a high fae prince, the heir to the Autumn Court?” Eris laughs again, “The fact of the matter is that you don’t. I will always find you, Azriel.”

And fuck but the surety in Eris’s voice makes Azriel’s cock stiffen in his leathers. He palms himself hard enough to hurt—not the good kind of hurt—because he can’t afford an erection slowing him down, not when the lake is so close.

“And, when I catch you, I’ll show you exactly what use you’ll be to me.”

It’s a threat. It’s a promise.

Azriel breaks through the tree line and onto the gravelly shore.

But he hasn’t been thinking ahead, doesn’t know where to go because the only options are the water, back into the forest, or into the sky. Flying is the surest way to be caught. Illyrian wings are a hindrance to swimming. The forest means he loses any advantage this clear line of sight gives him.

Though these thoughts fly through his mind in an instant, that’s all it takes. A warm weight slams into him and sends both of their bodies crashing onto the gravel. Azriel lands on his back and the stones bite into his wings, dozens of small cuts on the sensitive membrane open as one—a symphony of exquisitely bright pain blooming.

“Hello, little bat,” Eris sneers above him, auburn curls falling onto his forehead from the chase. The princeling cocks his head, “Giving in so soon?”

“Never,” Azriel growls, slamming a fist into Eris’s side, just below his ribs and rearing up. His forehead meets Eris’s with a crack, shards of light splinter through his vision but Azriel works on muscle memory, throwing Eris off balance and flipping them.

But as he reaches to grab a fistful of Eris’s hair and pin his head in place, the male smirks. Heat wraps around Azriel’s extended wrist as the world darkens, the lake dissolves and he can’t breathe, can’t….

His shoulders burn as his arms are stretched above him to their limit, the rough bark of a tree trunk presses into the open cut on his cheek and Azriel hisses as the hand on his nape presses harder.

“Pathetic,” Eris scoffs, releasing his head with a shove.

Azriel tries to hit him, kick him, something, but his legs won’t move. Glancing down, he sees ropes of flame wrapped around his ankles, glowing orange against the darkness.

“Thinking you could run from me? Honestly,” from somewhere behind him Eris tuts disapprovingly, “this level of delusion would be cute if it weren’t so pitiful.”

“Fuck you,” Azriel cranes his neck and spits but it lands a few feet short of Eris’s polished boots.

“Oh, don’t worry little bat, you will. Try that again. If you make it, I’ll let you lick them clean.”

Despite himself, Azriel’s getting hard. He presses his forehead against the uneven bark, trying to stop the blood from rushing out of his head.

“Oh, I think you like the sound of that,” Eris croons, close enough for Azriel to feel the warmth of his breath on the shell of his ear. “Is that what you are, Azriel? Nothing better than a dog panting at my feet?”

Azriel throws his head back hoping to hit Eris, but all he succeeds in doing is pulling a muscle.

Then there’s cool metal and the familiar edge of a gemstone dragging down the central tendon of his right wing and Azriel’s breath leaves his lungs all at once as he arches into the touch.

Eris chuckles, “Look at you. The famed spymaster of the Night Court, the legendary shadowsinger, and you barely put up a fight. Already so desperate for me.”

“I’m not done fighting,” Azriel sneers, struggling against the restraints.

“Oh but you are,” Eris sounds gleeful. The heat of him presses Azriel into the unyielding tree. Azriel can’t help the noise that slips past his lips when Eris reaches into his leathers without warning and wraps his fingers around Azriel’s cock and strokes leisurely. “Just as I thought.”

The heat of Eris’s skin, the cool metal of his rings, makes Azriel shudder. Eris’s teeth graze the tattoos on his neck and Azriel’s torn between trying to headbutt him again and giving him better access to the sensitive expanse of skin.

“I know how much you hate this,” condescension laces Eris’s words. “You hate that I’m the only one who can give you what you need.” He sighs, releasing Azriel’s cock. “It must be so frustrating not being able to allow yourself the things you want, needing someone else to give them to you, needing me to be that someone.”

A vertical line of pressure lands between Azriel’s shoulder blades—a knife, larger than the one with the faebane.

“Stop,” he grits out, though it lacks conviction.

The moment Eris tackled him onto the lakeshore, Azriel realized how long it’s been since their last game, and just how tired he is. It’s been months since Nyx was born—since Azriel almost lost a third of his family in a single moment and has been doing everything in his power since then to make sure everyone is safe.

The blade cuts through the laces running down his spine, the night air eliciting goosebumps on the newly exposed skin.

“Eris,” Azriel warns. The knife stills halfway through its journey.

“Yes, Azriel?”

The waiting blade, the lack of derision in the words—Azriel doesn’t need to be told that Eris is giving him a chance to stop this now.

He should take it. Azriel should never have let things get this far. Eris is right that a part of him loathes how much he craves this, craves him—the male he’s hated for so long, who’s impossibly complicated, whose masks are so layered that he doesn’t know where they end and Eris begins.

This goes against everything he’s believed his whole life: vulnerability is weakness, weakness is shameful. The last place he should ever want to be is at someone else’s mercy. He’s Rhysand’s spymaster for fuck’s sake—Azriel is the one who binds, he’s the one who wields the blade. It’s who he’s always been: the person everyone needs him to be

— — —full fic coming soon-ish!

tagging : @iftheshoef1tz @damedechance @panicatthenightcourt @moonpatroclus @foundress0fnothing @krem-does-stuff @octobers-veryown @born-to-riot @melonsfantasyworld @acourtofladydeath @secret-third-thing @lady-riel @chunkypossum @catboyjamesbond @queercontrarian @asnowfern @valkyrieassassin @wilde-knight @xtaketwox @itsthedoodle @areyoudreaminof @thelovelymadone @the-lonelybarricade @ablogofsapphicpanic @separatist-apologist @fieldofdaisiies @melphss @bubybubsters @nestas-workwife

if you want to be added to/removed from my azris taglist just let me know :)

#azris #azris fanfiction #azriel x eris #eris x azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel acotar #eris vanserra #eris acotar #acotar fanfiction #cw: kink #cw: cnc #kinktober 2023 #kind of not really #it is in spirit

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

I have this head canon for the mute reader with the 141. So I would think that one of her other forms of communication is touch, like tapping a shoulder or gently brushing up against someone’s arm to let them know she’s behind them or beside them?

And we know Simon isn’t exactly one who is used to touch in the form of something so delicate. Like, he would be in the base’s kitchen and out of no where he feels two small gentle taps on his forearm, and boom there she is, making tea beside him.

He wasn’t sure what to make of it at first, but he would realize she wasn’t doing it out of a jab or joke, she was simply letting him know she was there. And I would think this gesture is something he would secretly enjoy. Like it’s grounding for him.

Which I think is where he comes up with her nickname “Quiet”.

Just a thought I needed to let out bc it was racking my brain 🥲

OMG YES

You always makes sure to tap everyone lightly but with Ghost you take extra care. You always somehow ended up surprising/startling Ghost, the man who was supposed to be the one did that, because you’re so quiet which is exactly how you got your name.

Ghost was the first one to call you that and since then it stuck.

He does like it, it makes him feel like he’s actually there and does ground him.

(Also I’m so sorry for not getting to your other asks, I promise I will get to them soon I’ve just been so busy with other stuff but I will get to them ❤️❤️ @thedevillovesflowers)

#asks #quiet #mw2 ghost

[luxaryllis]

Ok so Crowley found a way for yuu to go home just as yuu is walking through the portal after saying goodbye to everyone there's a blinding light for a second and yuu wakes up in a hospital bed as yuu wakes up all that they can hear is the heart monitor attached to them and the TV that is playing Disney movies as the doctor comes in he tells yuu that they've been in a coma for 2 years which is how long they have been spending in twisted wonderland and that they have been in a car crash soon but steadily yuu realizes that everything they have been thought was just a figment of their imagination

Nothing

Note: Ooohhh, okay, this is kinda interestinggg!

Apologies for the long wait, Moon, but here it is!!

I'm posting this right before going to sleep, so I'll probably do some proofreading and stuff tomorrow? Idk lol-

Warning/s: Coma, Mentions of a car crash (I don't go over much details), Some parts may or may not be inaccurate, Possible canon divergence?, Reader/MC is referred to as Yuu, Possible OOC, Not a lot of research was put in this, Please tell me if I missed some

"Do you really have to go, henchman? N-not that I'd miss you or anything! If anything, you would be the one missing me!!"

Grim said as he looked up at you from the ground. You were standing infront of a mirror. The mirror that would bring you home.

Though his words were haughty, you could easily tell that he wasn't being serious. Anyone with functioning eyes and ears could hear how the little monster's voice cracked and wavered, and how his ears were pressed down to his head.

You smiled softly, crouching a bit to ruffle your companion's fur. No one missed how Grim leaned into your affection and headpats.

Crowley cleared his throat to catch you attention. Once all eyes were on him, the headmage spoke. "The Dark Mirror is now ready to take you to your world, Yuu. It won't be open for much longer."

You nod, getting up from your position as you slowly walk to the mirror that brought you here, and will soon take you away from here.

As you reach the mirror, you take one last look to everyone else, who had came and wanted to see you off.

Ace and Deuce were tearing up, and (though Ace wouldn't admit it very easily) were very reluctant to let you go when you had hugged them. Trey and Cater were sending you sad smiles and were comforting Deuce (who had started crying a bit). Riddle made sure that you were fully prepared for your arrival home and made you promise not to forget them, a promise you were more than happy to oblige with. You remember feeling your heart and chest throbbing, from what you think is sadness.

Jack gave you a firm handshake as a goodbye, though you had pulled him into a hug right after. A little beep was heard in your head while you hugged the wolf beastman. Ruggie told you to be safe out there in your world, while Leona just gave you a simple headpat.

The Leech twins, Jade and Floyd, gave you their respective goodbyes, with Floyd taking you into his arms an giving you a tight squeeze while Jade watches you with a calm smile. Azul nodde at you, saying it was a pleasure to know you, and watched with a sad gaze as Kalim pulled you into a hug.

Kalim held you in a tight embrace as he started bawling, crying about how he'll miss you so much and how much of a great friend you were to him. Jamil had to shove Kalim off you so he could get a single word in and patted your shoulder and told you to take care of yourself. Before the Scarabia dormleader could jump you again, he held Kalim back as you sent him a grateful nod.

Your friends from Pomefiore made their goodbyes rather quick, but you knew that you would never forget them. Epel gave you a hug with teary eyes, making you promise never to forget them. You had made it a pinky promise, despite Epel's hesitance, though he conceded either way. Rook made sure that your clothes and appearance looked up to par while Vil had reminded you to take care of yourself and your appearance. While moving on to your Ignihyde friends, you felt strange, like you were leaving your body, but chalked it up to how you were gonna miss them a lot.

Idia gave you a solemn nod, as if he were sending you off to the military, and Ortho wanted to take a group picture to commemorate the moment! The picture ended up really well, and Ortho printed it out through himself and gave a copy of it to you. As you walked by, you heard Idia muttering about how this was the "ultimate ending of isekai games and anime".

Like, Idia, Sebek gave you a nod, but you knew from his twitching hands that he wanted to hug you, so you embraced him for the last time, not even caring about his yelps and shouts. Though the green-haired first year shouted a bunch of things to get you to stop, you noticed how he held you tightly to him and didn't make a move to shove you off. Your heart felt like it wanted to leap out your chest. Silver gave you a soft smile and nodded at you, telling you to take care. Lilia patted your shoulder and reminded you to be good and gave you some wise words of advice. Malleus, who you personally invited, smiled at you and said that he would always remember you as his greatest and closest friend. You like to think his words even squeezed your heart a little.

As you looked at everyone and teared up. You quickly wiped them off, not wanting to get too emotional and waved everyone goodbye as you walked in the mirror. You vaguely heard everyone's voices shouting a 'goodbye' back at you, before everything turned white and the noise faded into earsplitting beeps.

Eventually you felt yourself lying down on a kind of stiff, but soft surface, like those beds in an infirmary. You heard steady beeps coming from your left, and felt multiple things on you. Like your wrist having a few wires attached in it, and a mask covering your nose and mouth. You tried to move, but you couldn't, as if your body had gone numb.

This made you panic. Had you gotten kidnapped? Were you even back in your world? Why were there things attached to you? Where even were you?!

Soon enough, you felt control over your body, you tried moving your hand, but only got a small twitch. It was only then that you realized that there was someone holding your hand. You heard a gasp, and someone announcing, "They're awake!"

The hand holding yours felt comforting, which was why when they let go, you were tempted to reach out and hold it again. You heard a light commotion, and opened your eyes. The bright light overwhelmed you and made you close it again. You try again, and again, before you hear a calm but soothing voice tell you to take deep breaths and slowly open your eyes.

You follow the instructions, and find yourself calming down and looking face-to-face with a nurse. The nurse wore a medical cap and mask, so you couldn't exactly see their features.

You look around a bit more, seeing that you were on a hospital bed, in a hospital room, attached some thing right next to you through some tubes in your wrist.

Why were you in a hospital? You look to your side and see your parents standing there with worried looks on their faces. The nurse signals them that they may approach you, but told them not to overwhelm you.

Your parents immediately go to you, asking you in soft questions if you remember them and what happened. You do remember your parents. But you don't remember exactly what happened.

Maybe it was the 2 years you've been in the world of Twisted Wonderland, but it's like your latest memories of your life before ending up in Night Raven College have gone blurry.

Your parents hesitantly tell you what had happened. "Two years ago, you got hit by a car, and got a nasty concussion and terrible injuries. You were immediately rushed to the hospital, where the doctors did their best to save you. And they succeeded. Somewhat. You fell into a coma ever since, and you've finally waken up!!"

...A coma...? Slowly, you look around again, realizing that on a monitor on the wall, Disney's Sleeping Beauty was playing. The song "Once Upon a Dream" became bavkrgound noise rather than music as you realized something.

Everything... was fake.

The world of Twisted Wonderland was fake! Did... did that mean your mind had conjured up everyone, Ace, Deuce, shit, even Grim!!

All those moments, the friendships, the bonds, the memories! Were they all just a small figment of your imagination?! Like a dream that lasted 2 years?!

The overblots, getting kidnapped in Scarabia, sneaking into the Styx Headquarters! Was it all just... nothing?

Your mind runs into delirium and hyper mode, thoughts of disbelief and all your memories just rushing through your eyes.

All that hardwork, the tears shed, everything was all for nothing? Was the world of Twisted Wonderland really just some made-up reality you created?!

As you hear your mother calling out your name, you snap out of it. You reassure yourself. It was just the magic of the world. Your mind must have traveled between the worlds or something.

Yeah... that must be it... right...?

The nurse begins to usher you back on the bed, advising you that you must rest before fully engaging with the world. Your parents leave the room, giving you their respective goodbyes and you're left alone in your hospital room.

You seal your eyes shut, and try to get some sleep. Unbeknownst to you, a crow watched you from outside your window, before fluttering away. It'll come back soon enough, just how it always did.

---

END

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst platonic #twst angst #riddle rosehearts #ace trappola #deuce spade #trey clover #cater diamond #jack howl #ruggie bucchi #leona kingscholar #floyd leech #jade leech #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #jamil viper #epel felmier #rook hunt #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #ortho shroud #sebek zigvolt #silver #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #grim #dire crowley #twst x reader

[lost-girl-2021]

PLEASE PART 2 FEMALE SPIDER SCENE

Okay, this isn't really a part two, but it's another scene with Spider. a lot of these are just background/growing-up stuff (the type of thing to be in a flashback). This one explains why female Spider dresses more human-like than canon Spider (aka, she gets her first period and her foster mom & co. start insisting she dresses like a human, because she's 'growing up' or some bs). Nothing really graphic in terms of period details, just some of the Sully kids reacting to the change, really.

“What’re you wearing?” Kiri asked, rearing back. Her nose was crinkled in confusion, head tilted to the side.

Spider picked at a loose thread, shrugging. “Gotta wear it now.”

Mrs. McCosker had explained it all to her early that morning, after a very long talk about girl stuff. She promised she’d get some proper-fitting clothes as soon as possible, but that day she was forced to go outside in a pair of too-long cargo pants and a ugly grey t-shirt. It was awful and itchy and she was envious of her friends, who didn’t have to deal with human customs and rules.

“Why?”

She huffed. “‘Cause I’m a woman, now.”

Lo’ak laughed, rocking back on his heels. “You? You’re barely a girl. What makes you a woman?”

“I just am. Mrs. McCosker said so.” She mumbled the last part, cheeks turning red. The last thing she wanted to do was tell them the embarrassing story of what happened the night before. It was bad enough that Norm and Max and all the other scientists knew (they’d freaking studied her all morning, logging every painful detail, because apparently as the first human born on Pandora, every part of her life needed to be typed up).

“You don’t look any different.” Kiri observed. “Except for those clothes.”

Spider shrugged again.

“Well, I think it stinks. You look like a lab guy.” Lo’ak declared.

Spider felt like screaming or crying. She did look even more different from her friends, now. It was just another thing that made her an alien. And it hurt. Literally and metaphorically.

“I don’t.” She insisted, glaring up at her friend.

“Yeah, you do.” He frowned down at her. “Like a stinky, weird, hum— “

Spider didn’t realize she was going to punch him until her fist was in the air. Really, she just moved. Unthinkingly. Na’vi skin was tougher and more durable, but Spider had been fighting for a long time and she knew the right spots to hit. Lo’ak, unprepared and already balanced precariously on a rock, fell backwards into the dirt.

Kiri was laughing, but Lo’ak jumped up with a roar, tackling Spider easily. They rolled in the dirt, pulling hair and tails and clothes. It was a bad fight, nothing like the playful wrestling she was used to. Kiri was shouting at them, but Spider couldn’t hear over the rushing in her ears as she yanked hard on Lo’ak’s tail.

She wasn’t sure how long they thrashed on the forest floor before two big hands were lifting her up and away by the armpits. She glared up at Norm, in his avatar form, and crossed her arms over her chest. One of her shirt sleeves were ripped off and she was covered in dirt and leaves. Jake was holding Lo’ak up in a similar way, both adults looking more confused than anything.

“What happened?” Jake asked, voice hard.

“Spider’s being totally— “

“Lo’ak’s bullying— “

“And she’s dressed like a— “

“He’s— “

“Hey!” Norm shouted, cutting both of them off. “One at a time. Lo’ak?”

“She’s being super weird and punched me for no reason.” He huffed, frowning at her.

“That’s not true!” Spider shouted, wriggling in Norm’s arms. “He’s— he— he said I’m a stinky human!”

“No. I didn’t get the chance, ‘cause you punched me!”

“You deserved it!”

“Well, you are a stinky human!”

“Lo’ak!” Jake hissed as Spider reared back. The human curse sounded foreign coming from Lo’ak, but Spider had been around the lab guys enough to understand the meaning. Angry tears welled in her eyes as she struggled to come up with a curse bad enough to respond with.

“At least I’m not a— a fucking nerd!”

Lo’ak gasped. “What?”

Spider and Kiri had heard the term a few weeks before, when they were visiting Grace in the lab. They’d heard one of the lab guys call Norm a fucking nerd and when he’d noticed the two girls, he bribed them into silence with time playing games on one of the tablets. Of course, they’d told Lo’ak and Neteyam all about it the next tme they were together, all of them convinced it was some mega-curse.

Norm and Jake were both looking at each other, twin expressions of bewilderment as Lo’ak screamed back at her. “Sempul! Did you hear that? She called me a fucking nerd! Yell at her!”

Jake made a wheezing sound that almost passed for a laugh. “Uh . . . Norm?”

“ . . . Don’t call people names, either of you.” He was doing the high-pitched voice that meant he was trying to hide his amusement. Spider frowned further.

“He’s the one who started it.” She mumbled.

“You started it!” He called across the gap. “You’re the one who started dressing weird and saying you’re a woman and stuff.”

“I am. Tell him, Norm!”

Jake looked more confused than ever. “A woman? You’re eleven.”

“She got her— “

“Don’t tell him that!” She shrieked, thrashing in Norm’s hold once more.

“Spider, we talked about this,” Norm sighed. “It’s a perfectly normal part of— “

“Norm!” She hissed, reaching up and pulling on a lock of hair.

He held her further in front of him, rolling his eyes. “Okay, okay, jeez.” 

Jake’s nose crinkled, making him looked even more like Lo’ak.

“Put me down, Norm.” Spider insisted, holding her head up high.

The scientist shook his head, taking a step back from the boys and Kiri. “No dice. We’re heading home, so I can look at that cut.”

“What cut?” She asked dumbly, looking around. She flinched at the long scrape down her shin, dirt caked into the blood. “Oh.”

Spider was so sick of bleeding.

#spider avatar #atwow spider #avatar way of water #avatar #miles spider socorro #spider #atwow fanfiction #atwow #avatar fanfiction

[sixhours]

Firsts - Bath

Anna’s firsts, a series of fluffy drabbles set in the One Day at a Time universe.

Rating: Everyone Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, soft!Joel, no really super soft!Joel, Joel is a sap, mostly follows canon, fluff, fluffy baby stuff, no really this is sickeningly sweet, tooth-rotting, don't forget to brush your teeth Word count: 1.3k

Notes: I promise it's just fluff this time. Sickly sweet with a dash of humor, nary an angsty cloud in sight. Joel thinks of Sarah but it's not sad.

You can also read Firsts on AO3.

~*~

Anna is eight days old.

“She smells,” Charlie says, handing the baby to Joel on her way to the kitchen, a stack of towels tucked under one arm.

Joel frowns. “I just changed her.”

“She needs a bath,” she says. “With soap.”

He takes an experimental whiff off the top of Anna’s sleepy head. She smells like mine , he thinks, that unique combination of scents that turns something in his animal brain to mush.

Then he takes another sniff and catches it. It’s still mine …just gone a little sour.

He’d forgotten how wrinkly newborns are. They find dried milk in the creases of her neck, her arms, even between her toes, and none of their gentle sponge baths seem to catch it all.

It doesn’t help that Charlie’s milk came in with a vengeance on day three, her letdown overactive and eager, and she drenches the kid if she doesn’t latch right away. The first time the poor girl took a firehose of breastmilk to the face, her parents choked on their laughter until they couldn’t breathe, then panicked that they’d drowned her–never mind that she couldn’t have drowned because she was too busy screaming at the top of her lungs at the indignancy of being hungry and soaking wet.

It’s been a long eight days.

But yesterday the umbilical stump fell off, revealing what Joel dubbed the world’s cutest belly button, and today the kid smells, so it’s into the bath she goes. With soap.

Charlie fills up a basin in the kitchen sink with warm water while Joel divests the milk-drunk and drowsing baby of her pajamas.

“Sorry, kiddo,” he mutters as she wakes and fusses at the air’s first contact on her bare skin. He never noticed how drafty the old house was until Anna came along. If they’ve learned anything about their daughter in her short time on this side of the womb, it’s that she hates to be cold. The fireplace roars in the living room and Joel tosses on an extra log to keep it that way, but the window over the kitchen sink is old and lets in just enough of the winter air to be uncomfortable.

He makes a mental note–soon forgotten, because everything is a hazy mess of nights bleeding together right now–to re-insulate that damned window.

When the basin is full and they’ve triple-checked the temperature, he lowers her squirmy little body into the water and concentrates on holding her upright, one large hand cupping the back of her neck. They used to have bath seats for things like this, he thinks, but one has not magically appeared in the multitude of baby things left at their doorstep, so they’ll do this the old-fashioned way.

Anna doesn’t seem to mind at first. Her little brow furrows curiously as Charlie starts to rub down her limbs with a bar of goat’s milk soap.

“She looks like you when she makes that face,” she says.

He mock frowns, mimicking Anna’s expression until Charlie snorts a laugh and flicks soapy water at him.

“She has your eyes,” he murmurs, nudging her with his shoulder.

“Most babies have gray eyes when they’re little. They’ll probably change.”

He shrugs and quietly hopes they don’t.

“S’not so bad, huh?” he murmurs to Anna, trying to remember if he’d done this with Sarah, but he can’t reach back that far–clouded by thirty-five years with sleep deprivation on both sides.

He does remember baths when Sarah was older–kneeling next to the tub with his two-year-old as a small tidal wave of a splash crashed over him, water all over the floor, coming away with his t-shirt and jeans soaked, lightly admonishing her for the mess but unable to suppress his smile at her delight. He’d done bathtime in his boxers after that.

But Anna is less than delighted and getting less so with every pass of the washcloth. She kicks out with a whine, legs pushing against the basin, and water splashes down the front of Charlie’s shirt.

“Baby girl,” Joel murmurs, trying to keep hold of her slippery form as she wriggles. He can almost feel the protest rumbling up her body, her little stomach going taut with a deep breath. Charlie gently brushes the cloth over her head, and that’s the last straw. Anna’s wail is deafening.

“Shit,” Charlie hisses softly. “I know, sweet girl. Almost done.”

The baby is rinsed and wiped down in a rush. Joel plucks her from the basin and puts her on his shoulder, patting her dry with the softest towel he can find. She yells her displeasure into the crook of his neck.

“I know, I gotcha,” he mutters, picking up one of his flannels that they modified to use as a swaddler–one of the good ones from Bill and Frank’s that gets softer and softer with every wash, the buttons snipped off so the sleeves can wrap around her tiny body like a hug. He takes her to the couch, closer to the fire, and wraps her into a soft, tartan-clad burrito.

A red-faced and furious burrito.

Charlie looks down at the front of herself, drenched. “I’m going to change. I need a shower, but—”

“Take your time,” he says, but he can barely hear himself over Anna’s cries. “I got her.”

“You sure?”

He’s not, but he’s supposed to be the experienced one, so he nods with a confidence he doesn’t feel. “Go, clean up. She’ll calm down.”

Charlie goes reluctantly, and Anna does not calm down, her cries growing more frantic with each passing minute, causing Joel’s stomach to clench and twist. It’s a visceral, rising panic, animal brain telling him she’s hurt and he needs to fix it .

He’s killed men in cold blood without breaking a sweat, but the wail of one helpless infant could bring him to his damn knees.

He moves closer to the radiant heat of the fireplace, shushing and swaying and patting her back through the flannel, but she’s worked herself into a state. She fights at the swaddle which is quickly coming undone. Eight days old and she’s already so strong, he thinks, a momentary flush of pride clouded by anxiety.

“Alright, baby girl,” he soothes, wracking his overtired brain.

In a flash of inspiration, he moves her to the crook of one arm, freeing his other hand to fumble at the buttons on his shirt. He undoes the first five, then unwraps her and presses her squalling form to his bare chest, skin to skin, before re-covering her back with the wrap.

It’s the shock of the sudden change more than anything, but it has the intended effect. Anna quiets, little legs and arms still moving of their own volition, toes digging into his belly and pushing like she’s trying to climb him. Her head bobs, mouth seeking, and he chuckles.

“Not gonna find what you’re lookin’ for here, little one.”

She makes a tiny sound, a frustrated huff, but there are no more tears, at least for now. He sways and hums softly with her cheek pressed to the center of his chest, fluffy hair all mussed from her bath and tickling his chin.

Charlie comes downstairs a few minutes later, toweling her hair, looking at them with wide, anxious eyes.

“Is she out?”

“Think so,” he whispers, craning his neck to try to see the baby’s face. “She just wanted to be warm.”

Charlie’s smile is soft as she trails her fingers down Anna’s flannel-clad back, a rare moment of peace that makes Joel’s heart flutter and skip against his ribs.

The quiet is short-lived, however, as he feels a warm, wet stream trickling down his chest and stomach, soaking the flannel wrap where he’s holding Anna’s diaperless bottom.

Charlie presses her lips together, stifling a laugh as the fabric darkens under his hand and the baby begins to wail. Again.

“Knew I forgot somethin’,” he grimaces.

“I’ll clean her up,” Charlie sighs, lifting the squalling child in the soiled flannel from his arms, then planting a chaste kiss on his nose for good measure. “Guess it’s bath time for everyone tonight.”

#the last of us #the last of us hbo #fanfic #babyfic #fluff #sickly sweet #tooth rotting #baby fluff #joel miller #joel miller x ofc #tlou fanfiction #tlou fluff #tlou fic

[jjtheresidentbaby]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ demon daycare ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹

|| dean winchester x reader | part 2

prompt: imagine dean got caught by a demon and it distressed him to the point he involuntarily regresses and the demon just looks at him and goes "Well what else can I do?" and cgs him, and its a good time

a/n: for @teddybear-kiddo <3

warnings: demon!reader, little!dean, involuntary regression, knives, minor injuries, canon typical demon stuff, swearing

-

You twiddle the tip of your knife on your thigh as you take a minute to breathe, you’ve captured the infamous Dean Winchester, you deserve a breather. Any other demon that’s taken either of the Winchester brothers has either not lived to tell the story or has warned against going anywhere near either of them.

As you look over to Dean you really don’t see the big fuss, if anything he looks particularly small compared to what you imagined. He had been a bit mouthy at first but that died quickly, still hasn’t given up the information you need though. It’ll come soon enough and hopefully before his brother comes busting in with that angel you know they drag around.

“You ready to talk yet?” You crouch down by Dean’s face, knife still held in hand, there hasn’t been much damage done aside from a nice looking cut on the side of his jaw. It’s artificial, won’t even need stitches.

“Hello? Im talking to you-.” You shut up seeing the tears falling down the Winchesters face when he turns to you. It takes you off guard for more than one reason, the biggest being that this is Dean Winchester, professional demon hunter and killer, not who you were expecting to be crying over a little cut.

“It’s just a cut, it’ll heal.” Your brow furrows watching how Dean only grows more upset and starts to thrash in the ropes holding him against the concrete pole in the warehouse you’ve dragged him to.

“I- I know.” He sniffs. It twinges something in you, something you have felt in a long time being a demon. You sigh to yourself, looking Dean over again, and god damnit you’re really considering untying him.

“Okay, tell me what’s wrong?” Dean’s cheeks blush fiercely under the question, trying to duck his head away only your hand catches his cheek to hold him steady.

“I- I want Sammy.” He whimpers quietly. He sounds like a child. Then it hits you, he looks like a child, sounds like one, fuck.

“If I untie you can you be good and not run?” Dean nods jerkily to you and you pray to lucifer he keeps that promise as you undo the knot at the back of his wrists.

The ropes drop, Dean doesn’t bolt. Step two you suppose, you know there’s a first-aid kit somewhere around here, it’s hung on the wall from when the warehouse was still in use. It should have everything you need to patch up Dean’s face.

“Stay here while I go grab a first aid kit.” Before you can fully stand Dean’s hand grabs yours, eyes big and pleading, as if he doesn’t want you to leave. He’s younger than you assumed, you know what age regression is, whoever your vessel is has a few facts about it stored away, it seems to be coming in handy.

“Okay, but no running.” You wait for Dean to stand, watching with a small smile how he stumbles and reaches to hold onto you tighter for balance.

It takes no time at all to grab the first aid kit and sit Dean back down to start cleaning the cut. After disinfecting and placing a butterfly strip to hold the wound together, you pet a hand through Dean’s hair. He leans into the touch and before you know it, he’s laying on your chest, arms around your waist and his head nuzzling closer towards you.

“Aren’t you scared? I’m a demon.” You ask a little breathless, a weird warmth is buzzing in your chest, you don’t know what it is but you like it. It grows when you wrap your own arms around Dean’s back.

“You’re not scary, you helped me.” Your instincts take over as you lean to press a kiss into Dean’s hair, you like this much more than the previous violence.

You two stay like that until Sam bursts in with Castiel in tow, both largely confused by the scene in front of them, but also relived that you haven’t done any serious damage to Dean. And as they all walk out to their car, you’re a little sad to see Dean go, maybe you’ll have to pay him a visit soon.

-

#jj writes #supernatural agere #little!dean winchester #caregiver!reader #dean x reader #dean winchester

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hi again! It’s the anon who asked who david is! Thank you for taking the time to explain it to me. I’m only familiar with iwtv and i’m halfway through tvl, so i’ve never come across his character until now. It’s so interesting that you personally think it’s marius, it seems to be a pretty solid theory throughout the fandom as well. I would definitely like to know more :)

Hey!

(If you are halfway through TVL you will soon encounter Marius, so... I'll keep it short here?!^^ But I won#t be able to reason without pointing stuff out - so there's some spoilers below!!!

Yes, I do think that is Marius, because I align with what others have pointed out, namely that Daniel is actually taking over some of what David did later in the books (namely chronicling the life stories), and, also, the head of the Talamasca would need a bigger introduction. And there is also the fact that Daniel seemed to have known him, to talk about his fear.

I don't think that fits with David. Especially since there were no hints of David (yet).

Marius on the other hand...

Marius' painting, on the wall. Marius, Armand's maker. Marius, long time keeper of "Those Who Must Be Kept". Marius, who is designated "prime minister" in the later books. The later books, where Fareed is from as well. Marius, who knew where Armand was, while Armand was in the cult of the "Children of Satan". Marius, who did not go and get him out. Marius, who Lestat found. Marius, who made Lestat promise not to tell, or else. Marius, who told Lestat to live a mortal lifetime, as close to "normal mortal" as possible with the ones he loves.

Marius, who, in the original book timeline takes Daniel off Armand's hands when Daniel goes a bit mad. Marius, who cares for Daniel then.

Marius, who later intervenes, due to his own reasoning, when Armand does not want to do something.

I (and others) believe that while Armand might have "tinkered" with Louis' memories... it might actually have been Marius, who wiped Daniel's. Who kept tabs on Daniel, too.

Because there will be a point in this version of the story, this story, where Daniel will be chased by Armand, and other than in QotD, where he succumbs to alcohol and drugs and some mania (due to the confrontation with immortality) there is no ultimate incentive to turn him.

Daniel almost dies in the original story, and Armand turns him right in the middle of Akasha's assault on their kind, because there is literally nothing else to lose, and he cannot stand watching Daniel die.

So... if Akasha hasn't happened yet - why does the chase end? Where does it end in this version of the story? In this tale?

What if Marius knows of the chase. He kept tabs on Armand after all. Possibly. What if he interferes here due to his own reasoning here, too. What if he puts an ultimatum to Armand.

What if he wipes Daniel's memories because Armand... can not.

The painting on the Dubai apartment means that there is some kind of reconciliation between them, imho. Armand is on the phone with someone, saying "soon now". He only needs to call Marius on the phone.

Marius book canonically uses disguises, and the vampire equivalent of make-up to pass as human, vampire hair grows back over the day if cut. Those glasses look suspiciously thick^^.

Also, I... why would David Talbot, of the Talamasca, be in Dubai in the sushi restaurant, and know that Daniel does not need to be afraid of Armand? But... the other?

(Btw - thinking about it the "other" does not necessarily mean Louis, though the trailer editing suggests this - but I bet they're pranking us there^^).

And, last but not least.

Daniel's familiarity with whoever-he-is.

I don't think Daniel had much interaction with the Talamasca over the decades. Why would he. Why would the Talamasca reveal themselves, especially knowing that the vampires might be watching. But we know the vampires kept tabs on Daniel. Or some vampire at least.

Given Daniel's connections to Armand, Louis and Marius (and Lestat in the books, which will probably still revealed at a later point)... it just doesn't make sense to me for this to be David^^.

Also - said that before - Marius' character takes a very... strong actor. Justin Kirk would be perfect :))

We'll see :)

#Anonymous #asks #ask nalyra #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #iwtv 2022 #interview with the vampire #david talbot #marius de romanus #future season speculation

[lunarhobbits]

misc sweeney hcs

(disclaimer. i am new-ish here and have no idea how popular/prevalent any of these are go easy on me ok. also a lot of these are dadben related wh o o p s)

i've seen some variance of if this is canon in fics and stuff but i really do like the idea of the barkers also living above the pie shop in addition to the barbershop being there. similar situation w the pie shop/lovett living quarters. ig it's just easier to picture in my head then????

(p sure the b*rton film confirms smth like this but i'm ignoring it bc i don't like that guy. this idea is mine now)

part of the reason i like this so much is it means that benjamin barker had all the more time to have lovely moments with lucy and johanna when he wasn't busy with clients

(this also makes sweeney returning there without them all the more painful. if he sits and doesn't do anything then he's flooded by memories of the life he had in those same walls fifteen years ago. like no wonder sweeney's so bent out of shape by being forced to wait for the judge and the beadle to come to him)

johanna had only JUST started walking when ben was transported. he was so excited and happy and loved to try and assist her, encouraging her to take steps holding his hands. chattering away about her with any customer that would listen, perhaps even showing her off ("look at my jo! she's such a fine girl!" "i'm sure she is, mr. barker, but could you please finish shaving me?")

he bought johanna a little lacy bonnet when she was a week old. she didn't need something so fancy at such a young age, and lucy had already sewn her a few bonnets months prior. it wasn't the most sound financial decision he ever made. but oh, his girl just had to have it, and it's a little big, she could grow into it! (lucy admits she looks very cute with it on, even though she says johanna doesn't need it)

(the bonnet is left forgotten in a drawer somewhere for years, until sweeney opens that particular drawer and finds it gathering dust upon his return. he feels sick seeing it, reminding him again how much he missed. then he puts it back and refuses to give it any mind.)

nellie lovett was infuriated by lucy barker in that way that you can't quite pinpoint why you're mad other than they're "too perfect" or "too pretty" or something. ofc there was the fact she was married to ben, but i think there was a little "get out of my school" energy going on there too

idk exactly how lucy ended up on the street (or in bedlam, as lovett says in the finale) but i do think that nellie was, sadly, at least complicit in inaction to stop this from happening (if not having thrown her out herself)

anthony is the sweetest dude around and genuinely loves johanna. doesn't matter that he barely knows her when he says he'd marry her, he knows that he's going to be happy as long as she is

johanna loves him too, and she's surprised by it. not because of anything to do with anthony, but because she's felt so little real love in her life (that she can remember). it's a wonderful and frightening rush looking at him, sometimes, but then he squeezes her hand, or does something silly, or even just sneezes or clears his throat and she's brought back down to reality, in a good way. that anthony is real, and human like her. she doesn't have to "earn" his love by being utterly perfect.

they get out of london basically as soon as they can, just wanting to leave it all behind, at least for a while

it took a little time and arguing but anthony did end up getting a good sum of money from the judge's death, through johanna's inheritance going to her husband (him). they immediately used this money to finance travel. they both love to travel, anthony promising to show her the beauty of the world that, still, cannot rival her in his eyes

this is all i got that's coherent rn really lol. anyway here you go sweeney todd fans who liked/reblogged my post haha @demonbarberofbeepbeep @captains-clever-goose @little-lovett @fabulousairpirate @funnygirlthatbelle

#sweeney todd #benjamin barker #johanna barker #anthony hope #lucy barker #sweeney todd the demon barber of fleet street #headcanon