#blood on your hands Mr. President

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Red tipped gloves || Young President!Coriolanus Snow x reader

Summary: The thought of motherhood at such a young age was absolutely terrifying. Though Coriolanus doesn’t seem to understand why.!

Warnings: mention of blood, self harm in the form of picking at nails, toxic Coryo, reader is implied to be young, manipulation, if there's anything else pls lmk

Wc: 811

A/n: I'm so bad with these summaries I can't even.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

A child expecting a child. How messed up was that? You rub the swell of your stomach as you stare at yourself. Youth evident in your still-round cheeks, yet the impending responsibilities cast shadows on the innocence of your features.

Gnawing at your law rips, you smooth down the dress that Coriolanus picked out for you. Dainty, innocent, just like how he liked to dress you up for social events.

Your hands subconsciously move together as you pick at your already picked-at nails. The horrible habit you picked up ever since you got married to Coryo.

Hearing the door suddenly open, you quickly pause your actions, moving your hands behind your back as you turn around to face Coryo.

Noticing your strange behaviour, he pauses to look at you before his eyes move behind you to the reflection of the mirror where you fingers were fidgeting.

Swiftly closing the door, Coriolanus strides purposefully toward you, casting a tall shadow as he towers over. Even in high heels, you find him looming above. “Show me your hands,” he commands, his tone firm and unyielding.

A subtle blend of defiance and confusion colors your expression, causing a faint twitch in your lips. “What?” your voice was too quiet, your tone feigning nervousness. A light gulp accompanies the gentle quiver of your lips.

“I said, show me your hands,” Coriolanus repeats himself, his tone escalating in volume. You release a slow exhale through your nose, carefully extending your hands in front of you. Your eyes, hesitant and uneasy, divert off to the side, catching the subtle nuances of your husband’s frustration as he lets out a sigh.

“I thought you stopped that horrible habit of yours,” he retorted sharply, firmly grabbing your hands as you flinched. A displeased expression crosses his face as he looks down at your fingers—raw and drawing blood—before his gaze shifts to your face, your bottom lip nervously tucked beneath your front teeth.

“I couldn’t help it,” you whisper softly, a hint of shame and embarrassment weaving through your tone, while he exhales deeply through his nose. “I’ll arrange for more gloves to be sent to you before tonight,” he says wearily, gently resting his hands on the curve of your stomach before quietly leaving.

~

Beside Coriolanus, engaged with his fair-weathered friends, you find yourself zoning out, your gaze fixed on the glass of water cradled in your gloved hands. The murmur of conversation fades into the background; you’re simply bored and disinterested in the overly serious discussion.

“Darling,” Coriolanus’ voice, firm yet gentle, pulls your attention as you lift your eyes to find everyone in the group focused on you. “I’m sorry, what was it?” you meekly ask, eliciting light chuckles from the women and amused glances from the men.

Coriolanus holds himself back from rolling his eyes, instead, he takes a large gulp of his posca. “Mrs. Cardew asked you how far along you are,” He smiles down at you, the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh,” you say softly, meeting Mrs. Cardew’s gaze, “28 weeks.” You smile at the older woman, and a few people in the group react with appreciative sounds. Coriolanus pulls you closer to his side, a possessive grasp signaling to those with wandering eyes who you belong to.

As the night wore on, a queasiness settled in your stomach. Socializing with Coriolanus’ friends became exhausting—forcing smiles, feigning excitement for the baby was draining. Leaning in, you whisper in Coriolanus’ ear, “Can I retire to our room? I don’t feel well.”

“Do you really need to? Right now?” he harshly whispers, and you gulp, hesitantly nodding. He sighs, rolls his eyes, and gets up. “Excuse me, my wife needs to rest,” he says to those around you with a fake smile as you quietly apologised.

Hand in hand, Coriolanus leads you to your shared bedroom, forcefully closing the door behind you. It was abundantly clear that he's upset about your early departure from the party.

“Did you just make up an excuse so you could leave the party? Is that it?” Coryo bitterly accuses you as you take a seat on one of the couches. “What? I didn’t make up an excuse. I’m pregnant for heavens sake, Coryo,” You frown, deeply offended by his accusation.

“Yeah, sure,” He chuckles, crossing his arms. “Why is that so hard to believe,” you scoff, mirroring his crossed arms. "Eleanor is in the exact same state as you, and she seemed perfectly fine," he shrugs, his tone nonchalant, causing your lips to part in disbelief.

“Are you seriously comparing me to Eleanor?” You furrow your eyebrows, a touch of frustration in your voice. Ready to counter his unfair comparison, you point out the facts, “She's considerably older than me, has experienced childbirth before. Naturally, she'd feel fine, Coryo."

Coriolanus mumbles something incoherent under his breath, his attitude towards you causing tears to well up in your eyes. His choice of comparison feels like a pointed jab in the most sensitive spot. When you sniffle, your husband's attention is caught. "Are you crying?" he swiftly retorts, his gaze probing, while you avert your eyes, concealing the probable redness.

A soft laugh escapes him, "Honestly, you can be so childish sometimes. Getting upset over that?" He raises an eyebrow at you—ironically so. His comment serves as a spark igniting a blaze within you. How dare he call you childish when you’ve done nothing but act older than you were.

“I just can’t believe you’re comparing me to Eleanor who’s had children before, unlike me who’s fucking terrified at the thought of being a mother,” you spat, the intensity of your emotions evident in your words. Even from a distance, you notice the shift in Coriolanus' eyes, the once-blue depths now darkening with an unspoken tension.

“As the First Lady you’re expected to give me heirs. Now I need a woman who’s ready to give me children, are you going to be her or not?” His words strike a nerve, and you feel your eyes twitch as a headache begins to form.

"Did you even think about that before marrying me, Coryo?" you challenge, your words causing him to furrow his eyebrows. "Because you damn well know I'm not prepared to be a mother. So, why choose me? You could have selected someone else—someone older, someone genuinely willing to birth your children." The air hangs heavy with the weight of your words, leaving a palpable tension between you and Coriolanus.

Your fingers unconsciously pick at your nails, the once-immaculate white gloves now bear crimson stains at the fingertips. Coriolanus' gaze fixates on your hands, and he snaps, swiftly moving towards you to pry your fingers apart. "Stop doing that!" he commands, his tone sharp.

As he moves in, his face is so close that you can feel his breath gently fanning your features. Undeterred, he continues with a venom-laced voice, "You should be thanking me for choosing you, for pulling your family from debt." His eyes, intense and unyielding, bore into yours.

“I could have married someone else. I had a list I could have chosen from who could’ve helped but no, you had to marry me.” you assert, the weight of your words causing a brief shock to cross Coriolanus' face. It's a rare moment where you've left him momentarily speechless.

Breaking the silence, he mutters, "I'll have the servants bring you some medicine." With one final glance, he withdraws, leaving the room. The atmosphere hangs thick with unspoken tensions, the stained gloves and the lingering words serving as tangible reminders of the strain in your relationship.

#coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow #the hunger games fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfiction #fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #young president snow #president coriolanus snow #the hunger games #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosas x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coryo x reader #coryo snow #coriolanus snow smut #tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus x lucy gray #coriolanus snow x reader #president snow #snow lands on top #the hunger games x reader

[faexoxoxoxo]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄

PAIRING: dark! coriolanus snow x capitol citizen! reader

SUMMARY: coriolanus has always loved you finally after years of paining and planning he finally has you . . .

TW: 18+, obsessive behaviour, smut, baby trapping . . .

You were an only child, a sole heiress to one of the oldest, and most affluent families in the capitol.

Given the position, it had always been expected you would find a husband of equal, if not higher standing. much to the delight of your parents, you'd found one; more specifically, he, the newly appointed president of Panem, had proposed to you .

It was during new years . . .

Over the years, your family had made a habit of hosting a large banquet to celebrate the holidays. Everyone received invitations, from academy faculty to business tycoons.

Of course, President Snow had been there too, talking to your father, clad in a black suit, his lips curled into the fakest smile you'd ever seen . . .

You could feel his cold, icy eyes following your every move throughout the evening, sending a shiver down your spine, as if at any moment a beast would pounce on you.

Any other time you could have feigned some sort of sickness and retired back to your room, but this was a special night, and as such, keeping public appearances and mingling with guests was a necessity, so you did what you always did: put on a fake smile and braved through.

Then something unexpected happened.

He proposed.

The fucking bastard proposed to you.

Just as the clock struck twelve, Coriolanus Snow got down on his knees in front of you, surrounded by the hundreds of guests, and he uttered the two cursed words.

“Marry me.”

Your cheeks felt hot, no doubt to onlookers; it seemed as if you were perhaps flattered. Who wouldn't be in the face of a man like Coriolanus Snow asking them to marry him?

No, you weren't flattered you were angry . . .

He'd cornered you he knew you couldn't reject him, not in front of all there people, not in front of your parents.

“Yes.”

Few moments passed before the three letter word came out of you, and your new fiance slipped the ring on to your fingers, it was pretty you would've admired it if not for who it was from.

There was no joy in your heart a strange feeling of numbness settling in when people cheered and came to congratulate you.

“Cheers! To the president and his lovely bride-to-be!”

“My my what fabulous pair!”

“Your children will be absolutely adorable!”

Their comments didn't help; no doubt, if not for the smirking Coriolanus holding you close to himself, your legs would've given out, leaving you a crumpling mess on the floor.

In contrast to your gloom, Coriolanus felt zealous; his smile for the first time in forever became genuine, softer even.

It was no secret. He had always fancied you from afar, ever since he saw you dancing at a gathering for the upper-class society of Panem.

You were beautiful—a purebred, a rose in full bloom.

No one deserved you—not the lowlife with his hand around your waist guiding your movements with the music, not the scum suitors your father planned to introduce you to—no one could have you except Coriolanus Snow.

He swore he'd restore his family name, swore he'd become the president, and then make you his wife.

Now, he finally, finally, had you.

It was worth it, every single drop of blood he'd spilled, to get to this point was worth it.

He knew you hated him, saw the fear in your eyes when he sought you out after his rise to power.

You had rejected him then, knowing full well that under all of his charming smiles there was something dark and twisted. It was true. Coriolanus was a monster, a monster with no intention of giving up. You would become Mrs. Snow, even if he had to force it on you.

What better way than a public display of affection . . .

His plan was a success; even if you weren't happy, Coriolanus was convinced that with time, he'd win you over. You couldn't hate him forever, not when he'd be your husband and the father of your children.

Your fiancé was a charismatic man, no doubt; he'd easily charmed your family. So much so that neither of your parents noticed your strained smile and reluctance when faced with your intended.

No one did, not your father, who'd been thrilled; he would be the president's father-in-law, which came with privileges, while your mother boasted endlessly to her friends of how you'd effortlessly captured the heart of President Snow.

Trapped, you were absolutely fucking trapped.

~~~~

The wedding was planned to be a grand affair, not that you'd cared much what flower arrangements the venue had or if they used silver or gold plates; it was all the same to you.

“Nothing but the best for my bride.”

Coriolanus, or Coryo as he insisted you call him, had told the wedding planners you never thought he'd be so invested in the wedding details, but he was, specifically in your dress. He had you try on at least fifty pieces before picking one.

“Can't wait to rip it off you,” he whispered into your ear, right before the staff guided you to the changing room.

After that, you avoided him at all costs.

Until your wedding day.

~~~~

You cried during the ceremony.

Reporters titled it as “tears of joy” and “happy bride.” If only they'd known . . .

“You may now kiss your bride”

You froze when Coriolanus's pulled up your veil, tear-stained eyes, meeting his blue one.

Then his lips met yours. It wasn't soft or sweet; it was hungry and possessive, like he wanted to show everyone how he owned you, and he did your fiance-no, your husband would never let you leave him, never.

~~~~

Coriolanus Snow was a man of his word.

He did, in fact, rip your dress off. The sound of tiny pearl buttons hitting the marble floor made you flinch, gasping softly as the cold air surrounded you.

Not giving you a chance to flee, he kissed you again, his hands wandered around your bare body.

Your husband had been insatiable during that night, not giving you a moment of rest as he made you take his cock over and over again, whispering sweet nothings and praises into your ears.

“You're so fucking tight, my good girl,” his hands gripped at your hips as he pushed himself into you, ignoring whatever tears or silent pleas you'd whimper out. “Who knew you'd be such a whore for my cock...” his face buried in the crook of your neck, leaving bites and marks.

At this rate, you'd have to wear a scarf tomorrow.

“Coryo- slow d-” His brutal pace doesn't stop, not even when your nails dig into his flesh, drawing blood that only seemed to spur him on.

“Gonna fuck you full of me until it takes...”

That makes you cry harder. “Nooo, Cory pull-out...” it was one thing to marry him, but children? you weren't ready... but he doesn't stop, not until he's cum as many times as possible deep inside your weeping pussy.

“It's necessary,” he tells you the morning after, when you're lying in bed, limbs tangled together, as he rubs circles on your naked back.

You stay silent, knowing what he meant. Coryo wanted you to get pregnant, not just out of love and desire to have an heir, someone of his blood, to carry the Snow name; his true purpose was to eliminate any room for escape you might have.

A child, a child, meant you'd forever be bound to him.

~~~

When you found out about your pregnancy, you secretly hoped it'd be a means to dim Coryo's interest in you.

“Husbands tend to cheat when their wives are pregnant ,” one of the ladies told you during a gathering. She'd meant it as a friendly warning to keep an eye on your husband and keep him interested.

But as it turned out, Coryo wasn't like other Capitol husbands. If anything, your pregnancy had made him more feral, constantly finding ways to bend you over any surface in your home, telling you how good you looked swollen with his baby.

“My pretty wife -fuck, so damn adorable with that little bump of yours - all mine—fuck, I did that”

It wouldn't end. Even after your daughter was born, Coryo told you he wanted more.

“She wants a sibling, don't you, Adeline?” he'd smirk, watching your face go pale, holding your daughter in his arms as she blabbered something and giggled, unaware of her father's plans or your unwillingness to indulge him.

Try as you might, your husband will always get his way, a fact that never changed over the years.

After all, everyone knows, “Snow lands on top.”

rewriting and reposting all my old works.

likes, comments and rebloggs are very appreciated ♡

#fae.xoxo #a ballad of songbirds and snakes #abosas #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus smut #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x female!reader #tbosas #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow fic

[alicerosejensen]

Something about sin. Pt.1

Synopsis: Leon is ready to rip all these damn feelings out of himself and tell himself over and over again that he needs a good fuck. You're too young and too cute for him. Leon knows that he shouldn't even touch you, but then why are you tearing all the sinful essence out of him?

Warning: no erotica but it is mentioned; Older!Leon; Innocent Reader; Fem/reader; age difference; Leon is tormented by his conscience; Old man/young girl; Mentions of sex; in fact (in this chapter) the reader does not view Leon as a love/sexual interest; The reader is the daughter of another DSO agent.

A/N: I apologize for any mistakes. I really like the idea of dark Leon, but I don’t want to make him look like a bastard).

Feedback is welcome. If you want to point out mistakes or scold me, please do so in a gentle manner.

Part 2

This was wrong...

But 'Wrong' is not the word that could describe how he feels every time he sees you. One slightest appearance and Leon immediately feels like Humbert from Nabokov’s novel “Lolita,” who ruined the life of a little girl, well, the only difference is that you seem to be 19-20 years old, and not 14. Actually, it’s already wrong to want you, given that huge fact that you...don’t give him any reason.

You don't wag your pretty ass in front of him, you don't wear revealing clothes, and damn you're a victim of his sinful thoughts! When the fuck did this start?

The day he saw you might have been the right answer. This was the day when his colleague, the only one in the DSO besides Hannigan and Helena, sympathized with him and believed that what was standing in front of him was not a cold-blooded killer of the president, but the same Leon who would rather take a bullet and give his life than kill the one he was supposed to protect. The clarification of all the circumstances and the justification of his innocence dragged on for a long time, maybe that’s why your father then simply wanted to show an act of friendship and support by inviting him to a family dinner? Returning back, Leon thinks that it would be better if he went through hell again.

Leon immediately realized that the dinner was arranged primarily for him. Fried chicken with sides, a light salad, your mom made appetizers and even made a casserole. One is too many for him. The icing on the cake was when your father opened an expensive bottle of wine. He immediately felt awkward about this, after all, who was he to be bothered with so much, but you...

"Mr. Kennedy, what do you want? Maybe a salad? The thin sound of your voice almost made him feel weak. Your beautiful hands held the salad bowl, and almost as if on cue, you were ready to fill his plate with whatever he wanted. And those doe eyes looked at him so sweetly.

Leon could have sworn that at that moment some kind of blessing...or curse came down to him. He doesn't even remember what you were wearing. Some kind of brown blouse with jeans? He didn’t even pay attention to it, his eyes were completely focused on your pretty face. It was rubbish. You yourself were old enough to be his daughter and, as was said earlier, you didn’t even give him a hint to think that you were not indifferent to him. Actually, at dinner, when you were sitting between your parents opposite him, Leon saw how uncomfortable you were. You ate almost nothing and didn’t say anything, and an hour later you ran upstairs to your room, citing the fact that you hadn’t finished some task yet.

And your father quickly let you go, so you quickly jumped up the stairs like a rabbit, running away from his insidious gaze.

Maybe he just needed to let off some steam, he decided. In fact, it is not very often that there are women in his house who can spend at least a night with him. Last time it was Ada, and sex with her was too rough and fast. He cum almost as soon as she found herself in his arms, and for some reason Leon at that moment was not thinking about her, but about how it would anger Simmons, who believed that Kennedy was not worthy of her. However, it was true.

It seems like it's starting to become a habit, wanting women he doesn't deserve. At least Ada herself comes to him and Leon knows that she will not demand anything from him, they have never even had dinner together, and what did they do together besides sex, battles and flirting? That's right, nothing. But he has even less interaction with you.

Ada's black hair is too short, unlike yours, which could fall all over him if you were sleeping on his chest in this bed right now. But Ada never laid her head on his chest and always left unnoticed, leaving behind a barely perceptible trail of perfume. You wouldn't have left, Leon thinks, looking at the ceiling, ignoring the brown gaze of the woman he's been crazy about for so many years. Why is he comparing you and Ada at all? Two women who don't look like each other at all, which makes damn sense. You don't have to be like this! Your father would rather put his neck under the axe than allow his daughter to serve in the DSO or any other service, but in any case, you do not aspire there.

As a result, a woman will always understand when someone else settles in her man's head and Ada just smiles slyly moving closer to him, but all Leon hears is the rustle of a blanket.

"Well, who is she?"

As always, there was no hint of jealousy. Ada is the epitome of calm and composure, but Leon really doesn't know what to answer her.

After all, you are nobody and at the same time you have planted strong roots in his head.

"She?"

He pretends not to understand her, but Ada has long figured him out. For her, he will always remain a rookie cop.

"Yes." She still smiles, resting her head on her hand while lying on her side, "Who is this 'Jolene' What took my puppy away from me?"

Leon grins, but at the same time he feels an unpleasant ache in his chest from her words. Puppy... of course, he remained that way, and Ada was good at getting to the bottom of it, and yet she did not say that he was her lover, because there is no love between them as such.

"There is no 'Jolene' in my life and it is unlikely that there will be," he said wearily, reaching out to hug her, but contrary to expectation, he did not feel the desired warmth, and the itch inside grew like a wild beast intending to get only one thing - you.

In the morning, Ada disappeared as usual, and Leon was not even surprised. But instead of a paper airplane with a lipstick imprint on the kitchen table, he found a small note, folded in half, where only one thing was written: “I think you really need a family. You should think about it."

Maybe Ada really was right, but if she knew your age, she would obviously look at him with bewilderment, thinking that somewhere on the mission he was hit hard on the head. On the other hand, maybe she would have sarcastically joked that the older a man gets, the more he wants to have a young girlfriend instead of the old one, although he wouldn’t dare call Ada old.

Besides, you were supposed to remain only in his head and Leon could only hope that one day he would simply forget about you. For example, fucking with a random girl from a bar, but bad luck, against his own will, closing his eyes, Leon still wanted you. As if you were the one clinging to his back with your nails, leaving bloody streaks marking him and screaming his name. Complete crap.

You live your quiet life, not knowing what a zombie is, in complete material wealth and parental love. When your second meeting with Leon happens, he sees that you are dressed in some kind of wide sundress and are trying to drag something heavy alone, although dad strictly ordered you not to do this, but you, as a caring daughter, did not listen to him because wanted your father to do something other than hard work instead of carrying those heavy boxes out of the barn. The fact that you yourself were barely coping, not very successfully, was ignored by you.

Leon couldn't look at it calmly. He himself told you twice to leave the boxes, but you just snorted offended at him.

"Spoiled girl"

You want to prove something to someone, although this will most likely harm your health and force your father to fork out for doctors and medicine, so Leon, not paying attention to your snorting face, took the load from you and carried it into the house, leaving you with only light boxes.

In fact, no matter how hard Leon tries to convince himself that he just needs a break, your game keeps cutting him like a knife. If he were 21 years old again and he could get to know you before Raccoon, you could hum beautiful lyrical poems about how a boy fell in love with a girl and the whole world around him changed. As if you could be those two stupid lovers who burn alive in their love until finally they become disgusted with each other, although more and more often Leon realizes that in his loyalty and devotion only he would disgust you, not you from him. He would be your devoted puppy, as he has always been for Ada.

You would be everything to him.

Or already?

Is it right to look at a young girl like that when he is almost an old man himself? Why don't you have some annoying boyfriend with whom you can constantly text and chat on the phone thinking that this is the love of your life? And why can't he just throw you out of his head?!

"Mr. Kennedy" the way his last name comes off your tongue makes him almost rush to you and take you somewhere far away where no one would find you. However, Leon is disgusted by the idea that he will be the cause of fear and tears of an innocent girl who is completely innocent of what is happening in his unhealthy head. To tell the truth, it's not even lust… No, of course he feels physically attracted, but first there is some kind of dog instinct maturing inside to protect you from EVERYTHING and EVERYONE.

Then you started awkwardly calling his name and he just became Leon, always smiling when you ask him for something or just out of politeness ask how he is, whereas in fact you don't really care what's going on in his life. At least that's what he thinks, not really knowing what thoughts are going through your head.

Leon can't possibly know that you want someone older. Just a little colder so that you can become someone's secret, because even though you're young, you're of age. And yet you're watching these weird love movies that Leon thinks are sweeter than the cheapest chocolate and probably the books on the shelves have similar plots. A love to fight for. Disgusting rubbish, really.

But your smile is getting softer and Leon feels like he's giving up.

But Ada really understands that she is finished. Your beauty is incomparable, and even though she smiles in Leon's face, her heart also breaks apart when he says another woman's name in a dream. Huh, women…girls. How easily were you able to get hold of someone she's been involved with for so long.

In fact, it's a shame and Ada also understands that the years of youth are merciful to you, unlike her, and in fact you grabbed Leon's leash and there's no point in begging to find another man. Besides, Leon himself has always been eager for normality, for what he can build with an ordinary civilian girl. You will be a faithful girl to him, and he will be yours.

Someone else always comes. Younger and more beautiful. In Leon's case, meeting someone like you was also a well-deserved reward, so their nights are becoming increasingly rare and have long lost their passion. The only thing Ada doesn't understand is why you won't pull the leash on yourself. However, this question quickly disappears when she finds out that Leon stubbornly drowns his feelings in whiskey, in her and other women, who, though few, still have them. And then, like a faithful dog, he runs up to you just to wag his tail at the sight of you.

In the end, Ada doesn't even back down, but just waits for Leon to draw a line between them that can no longer be crossed. And waiting for you to lie on these soft pillows instead of her, like his beloved princess, or climb onto his lap and his lips will leave kisses on your neck. Leon deserves you. He deserves his share of happiness in a world where the government has turned him into a perfect weapon against bioterrorism.

Leon's touch is becoming more and more relaxed and you are not afraid of his wide chest, given your size difference. He could have easily swatted you, but for God's sake, Leon S Kennedy would rather put a bullet in their brains than hurt you. You hug him, listening to the pounding in your chest when he gives you an obscenely expensive Christmas present and drinks hot chocolate with you. No, Leon likes sweets, but in moderation. All those bright ribbons, the Christmas tree… not for him, but if you were in his house now, he would decorate his apartment for you and then hug you for several hours, nuzzling your head hoping that his phone would remain quiet.

Leon wants to put you in his bed, he's even ready to be your sugar daddy and get punched in the face by your dad knowing that you're going to grab onto him, but he just wants you. Like a stupid old dog who wants to be petted by a new owner. And Leon is sure that he will die of longing if you don't do it. The fact that you still don't have a boyfriend is just comforting, but anxiety grows when your father tells him that he's worried that his beloved daughter isn't interested in boys her own age.

"Anyone older?" your father says rhetorically while helping Leon fix his bike, "Buddy, I don't want an old man like you or me to become my son-in-law."

"But this way you'll have something to talk about," Leon grins, feeling that he has everything to step on the gas.

And he will take the risk again, even if it means a broken nose.

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x you #reader #leon kennedy resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #leon resident evil #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil leon #older leon kennedy #Older!Leon s Kennedy

[evilminji]

Actually? WOULD Earth be the ones to petition Oa?

They are interstellar Space Interpol. You don't usually call them on different parts of your OWN settlements or systems. You call them in when someone is breaking THE Laws. Not necessarily YOUR laws, though obviously by breaking THE laws they clearly ARE. But THE Big Laws(tm).

Like Geneva Convention for Space type laws.

You have discovered Planet or King X is committing WAR CRIMES. Call Oa. Tax fraud? That's an inter-personal planet side issue they can't help you with. Pointing Nukes at your nursery settlement and threatening to blow up the infants there unless you give them sex-slaves?

Knock-knock! Taste HARD Light Constructs!

But if so? Then how would the situation get so out of hand on Earth? With the G.I.W.? Simple. Tell me, Mr. President, what do you know of the current day to day life of villagers in rural Siberia?

That they exist? Could you even NAME their village, if I referenced specific individuals? Likely not. And no one would realistically expect you too.

There are countless planets out there! With Leaders busy with local industrial conferences and infrastructure bills. Farming regulations. Talks with that planet a few stars over. Very busy. What do THEY know of Earth? Why would they NEED too?

But! As we know, Ectoplasm is EVERYWHERE. Not just earth. And? Thin spots are not just an Earth-centric phenomenon. Other planets most CERTAINLY would have them too. And depending on the species? The culture? To quote the wise sage Bill Wurtz "you can make a religion out of this!"

After all, chosen few, returned from death... glowing and more powerful then before? Immortal? It's a pretty reasonable conclusion to come too. They are clearly Gods Touched. Some sacred task they must complete.

It would likely even shape the ghosts of the region themselves. After all, they TOO, would believe they were chosen for some Important Religious Task. Be it study or collecting rocks. To what end? Unknown. Who are they to question The Gods?

But! Oh happy day! The old tyrant is no more! A chosen Hero! They go to greet him! Honor him, as you do. Traditional gifts and ballads. Maybe some sacred rocks. A fancy hat. But? Oh? The Champion is wounded! Gasp! Still? But the fight with Pariah happened-

And then they are given Grave Warning(tm). Don't go to Earth. Heretics attacking people. KILLING souls! Trying to KILL the king of all the Infinite! He is somber because his living parents were hurt. Preventing the END OF ALL THINGS!!!??

WHAT!?

These "People In White" tried to EXPLODE the very FABRIC of all realities!? Several of them faint. Truely, these Fentons MUST be chosen by the Gods! Heros. Legends. Such bravery in the face of such HORRORS. Please, let them be brought to their Living counterparts! The hospitals are quite good!

And you know what? Fuck it. Danny will take that. Because his Mom n Dad got hurt. BAD.

They learned he was Phantom at probably the SINGLE worst time imaginable and still chose HIM. Chose THEM. The GIW were coming for him. Gonna hurt Jazz. And his parents told them, with fire and blood, it'd be a cold day in hell before they let them so much as TRY it.

They BLEW UP their own life's work. Went literally scorched earth. And now? They're not doing so good.

Because the Zone isn't made for the living. No food, no water, and no real human-safe medical supplies. They've run out. Danny will take what he can get. He'd even go to Vlad but... his Portal's gone too. And the Buzzards said he looked... spirally. Very... "suicide runs until everything BURNS".

So, yeah. No one's doing so great.

Alien planet it is.

They are greeted with fanfare and respect. The best medical teams on the PLANET. The King and his family is there, to welcome him. It's... it's beautiful. Hardly some perfect utopia, but the air is lite. Art everywhere. The stars vivid and so easy to see, at night.

The King kinda reminds him of Mr. Lancer to be honest. Balding and a bit round around the middle, stern but endlessly fair about it, wants people to do their best and succeed in life. Maybe that's why Danny finds himself opening up. Because... because here is a real, honest to God, KING king.

Somebody who was actually TRAINED to do all this King stuff.

Unlike Danny.

And Danny? He's scared. People expect him to Lead now. To know what he's doing. To somehow just... suddenly KNOW how to do all these things he's never even heard about. He only barely just died. Has BARELY been keeping everybody safe.

BARELY stopped Pariah.

He doesn't know what to do. But he pours his guts out. All the things that have bottled up. And King Not-Lancer listens. Somber and thoughtful. There is little, if anything he can TRUELY do to help. But... there ARE things he can do. Lessons on statescraft, while he's here, for one.

As for the other? Well, as King, he does have the local Lantern's Call Sign. Not to be used lightly, mind you. But what Danny describes? And from what the Sacred Ones have reported? THAT must be reported to Oa. He can show Danny how to do that.

(He does)

[The Lanterns of Earth get a VERY exciting call from Oa. Are every different shade of pissed. But? Whoops! Looks like they ACCIDENTALLY put the Watchtower into a complete Quarantine! Well, dang. Guess we're all stuck here for two weeks!

Reset it? *sound of smashing computer terminal* Yeah, don't think that's gonna work! :)

WHO WANTS TO PLAY 20 QUESTIONS?? We'll start! :) Who here has heard of an organization called, and I quote, The Ghost Investigation Ward? :) ]

@hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #tw violence #tw slavery #not sure if i got everything #but i hope that helped

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 7] The Secretary

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

You’re a bit shaken up when you get off the elevator, perplexed by his words. A surge of emotions flows through you. You’re fighting back a smile while your blood boils. Of course he has the audacity to say that. He doesn’t have that right. 

When you’re back at your desk you take a moment to breathe. You can’t believe it. How dare he? He should’ve stayed quiet because he doesn’t have the right to speak to you in any kind of way– To even comment on your looks. You’ll be thinking about this for the entire day, it’s hard not to, considering how fast your heart beats.

Too lost in your own thoughts, you don’t notice when Shoko walks up to your desk. She taps on your desk, and you look up at her. She raises her brows, tilting her head before commenting, “Caught you off guard. What were you thinking?”

You shake your head, before sheepishly smiling at her. You clear your throat before telling her, “Nothing.”

“Did Satoru do something?” She asks and you shake your head. You’re definitely not going to tell her about Satoru’s comment. You do have a question though.

“Shoko… Is Satoru fucking his secretary?” The question that leaves your lips leaves the woman wide-eyed. She then furrows her eyebrows, she lightly shakes her head.

“How would I know? I don’t exactly keep up with him. I literally found out just the other day that he has a son.” She answers. She puts her index finger up before saying, “In his defense, he doesn’t know it either.”

“So you don’t know. Thanks.” You respond, rolling your eyes, and she ends up shrugging before walking into her office. The thought of his secretary and what he said to you lingers on your mind. How does he even say that when it’s so clear that he’s having some type of relationship with her? Not even that, he’s married. He’s fucking married. You never thought that Satoru was the type of man to cheat but you know that look in his eyes all too well. Maybe you just didn’t know him as well as you thought. 

It hurts you to know that Satoru is not the man you thought he was– Well, he had shown himself but you thought that at the very least he’d make a good husband. However, he has proved you wrong. Maybe it’s just a figment of your imagination, perhaps you’re overanalyzing and dramatizing a simple look and a smile.

You doubt it though. 

Like clockwork, a rumor goes around the office that there’s something going on with Mr. Gojo, the new president of the company, and his secretary. You don’t start such a rumor though, another employee does. You immediately know it’s true.

Shoko asks you if you made up the rumors, and you deny it. You don’t gain anything from it, and while she thinks you’re lying at first, she believes you. You really don’t benefit from it, maybe they’re just rumors that happen to be true. Maybe an employee caught them. There’s many possibilities. 

In the end, it’s none of your business.

“Satoru.” Mrs. Gojo barges into the office, finding her son mindlessly reading a report in his hands. He looks up from it to find his mother enraged. He sighs, rubbing his temple since he feels the headache that’s coming. “Would you care to explain what I just heard?”

He closes the report and tosses it on the desk. He crosses his arms before asking, “What did you just hear, mother?”

“Are you fucking your secretary?” Her tone is more accusatory rather than curious, and while Satoru would like to argue with her for not trusting him, she isn’t exactly… Wrong. But he isn’t going to admit it. He ends up shaking his head, but that obviously isn’t enough. He looks guilty. “Fire her.”

“Why?” Satoru asks, making her scoff. She crosses her arms, her index tapping on her arm. She can’t believe he’s asking that stupid question. She opens her mouth, about to speak, but Satoru speaks again, “If it bothers you so much just move her somewhere else. You were so bothered about my ex yet you hired her to work for you. By the way, why did you do it? I swore that you hated her.”

“Why I hired her is none of your business, Satoru. Plus, I don’t hate her.” She answers, making Satoru sigh. That doesn’t answer any of his questions. But he knows that he can’t push his mother, he knows better than anyone how she is. “I told you to fire that woman, and that’s what you’ll do.”

“Give me a reason.” Satoru says, and she raises her brows. Her nails dig into her skin before she opens her mouth to speak,

“My reason is that because of me, you’re sitting in that chair. You want to live a magnificent lifestyle and have your prestigious job? You follow my orders.” Her words make Satoru purse his lips together. He’s about to argue with her, but she says, “I can turn every board member against you, they weren’t even sure about giving you the presidency. Follow my orders.”

Satoru bites down on his lip. He takes a deep breath. He wants to say something else, but he really can’t. He really can’t say anything else but, “Yes, mother.”

“Good. I’ll get Shoko’s assistant working here while you find a new one.” Satoru doesn’t catch on quickly, but when he does, he knows that she’s doing it on purpose. He sighs before he nods.

“C’mon, Ren. Finish your veggies.” You have to tell the young boy that refuses to eat the broccoli and carrots that are on his plate; he’s become picky lately even though he used to love broccoli and carrots before. You assume that the older he gets, the more picky he becomes. He shakes his head, which causes you to sigh. “You won’t get any kind of dessert if you don’t finish your veggies.”

“I don’t like them!” He claims, pushing his plate away from him. You pinch the bridge of your nose. You don’t have the energy to argue with him, you’re simply too exhausted from the work day. You hear as someone unlocks the front door, and when you’re about to pick up Ren to hide because you assume someone is trying to break into the apartment, you hear her voice when she enters the apartment.

“Where are you?” It makes you sigh. You tell her where you are, and when Mrs. Gojo is at the dinner table, Ren’s eyes light up. He stands up on the chair to hug his grandmother, and she picks him up before kissing his forehead.

“Grammy, I’ve missed you.” Ren says, and you nearly roll your eyes. You know immediately that she’s the reason Ren is refusing to eat his vegetables; while a grandmother’s job is to spoil her grandchild, she must also respect your wishes but she doesn’t. She just enables Ren, disregarding you.

“Ugh, I’ve missed you too, my sweet boy. I’ll be visiting you more frequently, I promise.” Mrs. Gojo tells him. You look at Ren’s plate of unfinished food, and you stand up from the chair and pick it up. Now that Mrs. Gojo is here, you know that the plate will end up uneaten. You begin to clean up, rolling your eyes at the sound of Ren interacting with his grandmother. You can’t stand her.

“Hey, I came here to tell you something.” Mrs. Gojo walks into the kitchen, holding your son in her arms, and you turn off the faucet to completely focus on her. You dry off your hands on your pants before you put your hands on your hips. “You’ll be working with my son until he finds a new secretary.”

“Were the rumors true?” You mindlessly ask, and she furrows her brows and squints her eyes.

“You don’t get to ask questions.” She responds, and you click your tongue before you turn your attention back to the dishes. Too focused on the veracity of the rumors, it doesn’t hit you that she told you that you’ll be working with Satoru. Not until you hear,

“You have a son?” Ren quite doesn’t understand how his grandmother is his grandmother– He just knows he adores her, and it’s quite shocking to know that she has kids. Ren knows why your mother is his grandmother but not this woman…

“Yes, dear, your father.” She says nonchalantly, and your eyes widen. Ren’s eyes light up in excitement and he smiles– So he does have a father.

“Can I meet him?” He’s quick to ask, and you suck your bottom lip in. You take a deep breath, but it’s her situation to handle. She’s the one that brought it all up. When you turn to see what she does, she does nothing but shake her head.

Then it hits you, you’re going to be working with Satoru. You can’t stop your tongue, “What the hell do you mean I’m going to be working with your son?”

“That you’ll be working with him. That’s that.” She puts Ren down on the floor, while the little boy points his hands together. You nearly burst into tears as you watch him beg his grandmother,

“Can I please meet my daddy? Please? Pleaseeee?” 

“No, Ren. And that’s final.” She says, and he crosses his arms. He pouts as he walks away, too mad at his grandmother to even look at her. She’s the one that always says yes, so why is she saying no to this? Instead of paying attention to the boy, she looks at you and tells you, “You’ll be reporting to Satoru tomorrow, so don’t bother going to Shoko.”

“And what if I refuse?” You respond. You already agreed to so much, but working directly with Satoru is the last thing you refuse to accept. You wonder what she’d do if you refused.

“You see this luxurious apartment that you’ll never be able to afford?” She begins, and you sigh. Of course. You also know that she’ll take Ren– Maybe not give him to Satoru, but make a nanny raise him. “Do I need to finish? It’s just for a short time, dear. It’s not worth the fuss.”

“Right.” You sigh before turning back around and focusing on the dishes. She stares for a moment before turning around, and going to Ren. 

He has a short-term memory for the people that have wronged him so it’s no issue for her to interact with her grandson yet again.

It doesn’t surprise you that when you arrive at the office the next morning, Satoru calls you into his office. He doesn’t let you settle into your desk first, he doesn’t want to waste any time. You stand across from him, while he sits comfortably on his chair. You expect him to be personal, to talk about your previous relationship. It’s shocking when he doesn’t.

“I expect you to be here earlier. You’ll be working with me, not Shoko, therefore you’ll have a different schedule.” Satoru tells you, and you deeply inhale before exhaling. “I expect you to be competent. Leave anything personal at home. You can be professional, right?”

“Satoru–” You begin but he interrupts you.

“Mr. Gojo.” He corrects you.

“Mr. Gojo, I assure you, unlike your previous secretary, I am extremely professional.” You smile at him, and his eyebrows raise. He rolls his eyes. You find yourself irritated at the fact that he expects professionalism from you after the comment he made in the elevator– And you’re shocked to see how fast his attitude has changed. Satoru is not the same person he was five years ago.

“There’s no way you believe those stupid rumors. I thought you out of all people would be smarter than that.” Satoru comments and you shrug in response. You look around the office, looking for a single picture of his wife, but there is none. 

“I mean… I saw the way you looked at her. I’m not dumb, Mr. Gojo.” You tell him, and he bites his tongue. He can’t argue with that. You smooth out your skirt before weakly smiling at him and changing the topic, “Would you like to start your day with a coffee or tea, sir?”

“Coffee.” He answers, and you nod in response. You turn on your heel and you begin to walk out of the office, until his voice strikes you and it causes you to freeze. “You know, you don’t have to act like you don’t know me. You’ve always known that I like to drink coffee in the morning.”

“I beg your pardon, sir?” You look at him, tilting your head. “We don’t know each other, how am I supposed to know that you drink coffee?”

“I–” He opens then closes his mouth. It feels strange for a woman that’s known him for twenty one years to say that– A woman that he got to know for sixteen years, a woman that he was in a romantic relationship from eighteen to twenty one. But he doesn’t know why he expected anything different, even when he knows that you know him better than anyone.

“Everything okay?” You ask him.

“Everything’s fine.”

#[changes] #gojo saturo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic

[strniohoeee]

Hidden In The Shadows

Part 2 Here

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Following a lesson about this town that seemed to suddenly vanish, Y/N is intrigued to figure out what truly happened. However she might’ve bitten off more than she can chew….

Warnings⚠️: Nothing crazy, talks of/explanations of a cult, creepy rural town. This was from a Drabble about matt based on a type of horror movie he’d be done by @gamermattsgf she’s wifey and I had to adapt this into an imagine😫 @st7rnioiossblog

Song for imagine: Oblivion- Grimes

I never walk about after dark

It’s my point of view

Cause someone could break your neck

Coming up behind you

Always coming and you’d never have a clue

Moving out of my hometown wasn’t on my bingo cards for this year and moving out of my hometown for a research project was 1000 percent not on my bingo cards. Yet somehow I was packed up and on the road within three months of starting my project.

I’ve always had a weird niche for all things history, but especially history that just seems to vanish into thin air. I began to become extremely interested in towns that are no longer on the map due to poverty, weather change or even these people becoming hunters and gathers. Packing up and moving out in an instant. It all started in my senior year of college. I was studying geography at my local four year college in my hometown of Nevada.

Honestly I hated college all the long hours, all the homework and also having a full time job on top of that, but I had a full ride so I decided to suck it up. My very last year I had some space for a filler class that got me extra credits so I landed on the study of United States Lands focusing on increase and decrease of population throughout the recent centuries.

Personally I thought the class was going to suck, but to my surprise my professor was amazing. Towards the end of my final semester we began to learn about Pleasant Town Oklahoma. A once booming town immediately vanished off the face of the earth.

“Now class you may be asking yourself why was this town so rich? And I’m here to tell you it’s because the mayor at the time in the year 1915 had connections with our president. They hid money, fabrics, food and all types of expensive items within this small town” Mr Wayne stated

“I mean with hiding all this stuff how did they become so wealthy?” One guy had asked, my eyes darting to him

“They were being paid off for hiding these things, however the money was dirty money, so they created many businesses to get the cash flow moving. From one store to one man’s pocket to the next and then next thing you know that dirty money is in George's hand who lives in Virginia! It was all an amazing scheme, very smart. But as you can see it didn’t last long nor did it end well” He had stated as he clicked the laptop to show the next slide shown on the board

“Within three years of this operation this small town alone was bringing in about $100,000 a month which is over $2 million dollars in today's money. So then you ask yourself how does such a rich state with so much money just disappear? And all the money too?” He states scratching his chin

“So Professor Wayne….what exactly happened to them?” I asked after raising my hand

“No one really knows” he states uncrossing his arms and leaning off the desk

“I mean there has to be a reason right? That’s a lot of money to just disappear” I state as I jot down notes

“Well here’s the other thing, there are many rumors dating back to the creation of Oklahoma which was 1907. Sources have stated that Pleasant Town is evil and I’m talking demonic evil. People have said the reason the cash flow never stopped was because they were all a cult and seemingly used one another as sacrifice.” He stated clearing his throat

“Sacrifice?” I questioned raising my eyebrow

“Well yes! In many cultures it is stated if you do a blood sacrifice for the devil and/or sell your soul then your wishes shall come true. Their wishes were to stay wealthy. This came with problems however” he says as he sits down at his desk

The whole class was on the edge of their seats waiting for him to go on.

“Many of these men had short arms and deep pockets. Making it very easy for one man to kill the next out of greed” Wayne goes on

“And didn’t they get caught? I mean the president wouldn’t allow that” one classmate states

“Very true! The town was very small, only about 80 people now if 10 people suddenly die many eyebrows are raised. For a while they covered up the stories claiming a sickness like smallpox. The mayor decided to bring animals claiming this would make them richer since they produce meat, eggs and milk. Now he wasn’t wrong, but the animals were used in these blood sacrifices to hide their tracks” he says nodding his head

“God these people were ahead of their time” I blurt out and crossed my arms over their chest

“Oh they were, but that might’ve costed them their fortunes and their town” Professor Wayne states

“So that’s it? They just left? And what now?” I asked him

“It’s stated that they just separated, leaving most of the money to the whole state of Oklahoma. Afraid the president was after them or maybe they danced with the devil for too long and ended up paying the price” he states bluntly

“And the price is?” I asked him

“Death” he says frowning a bit which caused a chill to run up my spine

“But this is all speculation. About 30 years later Pleasant Town was rebuilt and supposedly none of that cult stuff was brought to that town. And till this day it’s still up and running. I believe the population is only about 200-250 people max?” He says rubbing his chin in thought

“I mean that’s just sad… we’ll never know the truth” I said to him shutting my notebook

“I mean you could always go and visit, spend the summer there. See what it’s like……anybody up for a challenge” he says laughing as the class shudders in fear and averts their eyes to the floor

I mean I was super interested in this lost town with such a dark history that suddenly reappeared 30 years after weird cult shit was happening. I could always take the summer off from work since I graduate in May….. take a road trip to Pleasant Town Oklahoma. Find the real history and report back to Professor Wayne.

My thoughts were interrupted when the bell rang and he bid his goodbyes to the class. Everyone was quick on their feet out of the door, but I stood back very interested in talking to him.

I trotted over to his desk as he shut his laptop, stuffing it into his book bag. His eyes darting up once he felt my presence

“Ahh Ms. Y/L/N…. You seemed very intrigued with today's lesson, planning a weekend getaway?” He asked me playfully

“Funny that you mention it because I was thinking more of a whole summer get away” I stated

“A whole summer?” He says brows lifting immediately

“I’m really interested in this town. I mean a mayor in on cult rituals to bring tons of cash in and the president not having a clue? And then they just vanished? This is like a movie sir” I state as I ramble on

“I mean it’s all just speculations Y/N” he says smiling at me

“I know sir, but is there any way I can get your research on this town so I can study it a bit more? I plan on building a whole case for this and figuring it out” I pleaded

“You’re really interested in this aren’t you?” He asks opening his bag up

“I really am Professor Wayne” I say back

“Here, but listen this is a tight knit community. Don’t go digging your nose where it doesn’t belong. Tread lightly this isn’t your turf, okay? In a town like that with such a small population and a dark history, you don’t want any enemies” he says handing me the folder titled “Pleasant Town”

“Yes, and thank you sir” I stated nodding my head

After that I finished my final semester two months later in May. Between work and classes I built up more of a file on this town jumping from a folder to two binders stacked with information.

Two days after my graduation I did some research on the town. This place had no hotels, no motels and for sure no air bnbs. That’s where I ran into my first problem, attempting to find a place to stay.

Searching on Zillow I had found a house for rent. In the middle of nowhere. One gravel road and corn fields. From the pictures it did seem there were few houses across and next to it, so I figured that was perfect. I'd make friends with neighbors.

I mean the house was decent for the area. Seemed to be a two bedroom two bathroom house. The bedrooms upstairs, one bathroom down stairs and one upstairs. Had a pretty average sized kitchen in the back of the house, a dining room to the right of the front door, a living room to the left of the front door, the stairs faced the front door, and then there were small hallways that lead to the kitchen. And there was a basement that seemed small, well kept and empty. It sucks to say I actually liked the place

My second problem began when I called the realtor a very old southern man by the name of Beaufort Smithson. I dialed him that morning and from the moment he heard my accent he seemed to turn a cold shoulder.

“Please sir” I pleaded with him

“Listen ma’am you sound young and not from these parts. What bring someone like you around this small town” he states deeply

“Well I’m from Nevada and it’s just so crazy here and I’ve been looking to stay somewhere a few states away that’s quiet and small” I state

“But you’re looking to rent from June 1st to August 31st…. We do 7 month rentals” he says bluntly

“Well I want to see it I like it first” I say lying through my teeth

“Can’t you see from the pictures if you like it or not” he says sucking on his tobacco tucked in his lip

“I can have the full rent for those three months ready for you in cash” I state desperately

“In cash you say” he says as I hear his chair squeak from underneath him

God these people really were money hungry till this day…

“Yes sir $800 a month for 3 months I can get you that $2,400 in cash June 1st” I state

“Well little lady you have yourself a deal. Now get yourself a pen and paper and jot this down. June 1st 12 in the afternoon we’re going to meet at the gas station in Pleasant Town” he states spitting his tobacco into a styrofoam cup

“Uhhh what gas station is that sir?” I ask as the pen dangled in my hand

“Sweetie we only got one gas station down yonder….you can’t miss it” he says chuckling

“Right…. Well thank you Mr. Smithson, my names Y/N Y/L/N, and I’ll be seeing you on June 1st” I state

“Well alright darling see you then” he says chuckling

“Oh by the way I look like-“ but I was cut off

“Oh trust me I’ll know what you look like…..safe travels” he whispers before hanging the phone up on me

That phone call made me slightly regret my choices of spending my summer with some shit kickers than on the Las Vegas strip…..

I spent the last two and a half weeks packing, purchasing what I know I won’t find in Oklahoma and doing more research.

I think I was on page 4,000 on google before I found a new article with information I hadn’t seen before. I placed my plate of pizza down as my eyes scanned the laptop screen quickly.

It was a newspaper clipping dating back to the year 1953. Only 70 years ago…. Interesting. The title stated “Farm owner questioned in the massive slaying of all his animals” my brows furrowed.

There’s no possible way that 70 years ago these cult killings continued? But my fingers scrolled down further as I began to whisper

“Confused and angry farm owner, Thomas Sturniolo was seen today yelling at cops as he was taken out of his small Pleasant Town home. After all his farm animals died and weird things happened around town he was suspected of killing his animals in a weird cult-like way. Demanding he be let loose, and that the town was crazy and out to get him because he is the wealthiest farmer. Insisting his competition killed his livestock and not him.”

My eyes couldn’t believe what I was reading…this was pretty recent honestly. This was happening around the time my grandparents were young children… I printed those news clippings out along with many other clippings of his arrest, his release and his disappearance…..

Adding them to my binder as I finished my pizza. This was so insane to me, and this would make a great conversation with professor Wayne after my studies.

I opened up my email and decided to email my professor.

Hello Professor Wayne! I hope your summer treats you well. In about three days I am off to study the lost town of Pleasant Town Oklahoma. That folder of information you gave me has grown into two large binders, and I found more information today. Down below you’ll find links to news articles dating back to the 50’s about weird cult animal killings! I think you’d find it fascinating! I’d like to update you here and there through my three month stay, and then maybe when I get back we can discuss all my findings over lunch! Thank you for your time! Hope to talk to you soon. -Sincerely, Y/N Y/L/N

Two days later I was all packed up into my car. About four large luggage and two duffel bags…. I was well prepared to say the least. Saying bye to my family and friends I began my venture to Pleasant Town.

My venture was a full day, and I made sure I counted for gas breaks, nap breaks and food breaks to make sure I got to Mr. Smithson at 12 on the dot.

June 1st 11:25 am- 35 min ETA Pleasant Town Gas Station

I was coming across the entrance to the town. I was jamming out to SZA, bobbing my head I looked over to my right smiling as I read the sign

“Welcome to Helltown….once you get in you’ll never get out!” It read

My smiled dropped, I snatched my sunglasses off my face and turned the radio down….. a cold sweat began to form on my back as I looked in the rear view mirror

What the fuck was that? I was becoming increasingly anxious and wondered if I just made the worst mistake of my life. I rubbed my lips together in anxiety as I gripped onto the steering wheel harder.

I chose to shake it off, there has to be a logical explanation for this I thought to myself. Putting my sunglasses back on, I turned my music up a little bit and continued down the silent road.

My map told me 1 minute, and slowly I pulled up to a very old and very dusty gas station. Coming to a stop as the gravel left a smoke trail ahead of my car.

I put the car in park and hopped out, stretching my back and cracking my neck. Suddenly an old man hopped out of his large red truck. Spitting tobacco on the ground as he waddled over

“You, young lady must be Y/N?” He asks as he sucks the tobacco

“Yes sir I am” I state as I smile and place my hand out to shake his

Looking down as he smacks his lips, he firmly shakes my hands.

“Good to met ya, welcome to Pleasant Town” he states coughing

“Thank you Mr. Smithson” I state smiling once again

“Well uhh” he states smiling at me

“Oh right” I say, eyes going wide as I walk over to the passenger side. Grabbing the envelope with all the money in it.

“Here you go, $2,400 cash” I state handing the envelope over to him

He grabs the envelope and takes the money out, beginning to count it

“300,400,500-“ he says flying through the money

“Uhh what’s with the welcome sign saying welcome to Helltown? Once you get in you’ll never get out?” I ask pointing over my shoulder

He immediately stops counting, sucks his teeth and looks up at me through his lashes

“Idiot teenagers who have nothing better to do than destroy property that isn’t theirs” he states as he goes back to counting

“Oh…” I state rocking back and forth on my heels

“Alright it’s all here! Thank you sweetheart. I’ll drive you to your house just follow behind me” he states stuffing the money back in the envelope

“Thank you sir” I state as he turns and walks back to his truck

I hop in mine and wait for him to go, following closely behind him I take in the surroundings. Trees, dirty roads, corn fields, farm houses, large stacks of hay and pretty decent sized homes. They were just super outdated.

It was only about a 15 minute drive, but man it felt like forever. I’d hate to get stuck with no gas on a road like this.

Pulling up to the house he pulls onto the gravel driveway as I do too. We both hop out and we walk towards the house. We walk up the steps and wait on the front porch as he digs around for the keys.

Looking around I take in the surroundings, there’s quite a bit of farms around here…. My thoughts are interrupted when he finds the keys and opens the door. Allowing me to walk in first

“I had my crew clean up the place for you” he states shutting the door

“Oh, do you own a cleaning company?” I ask looking at him

“No.. I get these young boys out here to do what needs to be done around these parts” he states bluntly

“Oh the young teenagers who mess around” I say laughing

“No, I send those boys to work the corn fields…. The older men do the hard work round here. The cleaning, the lifting, the shootin” he says sucking the tobacco

“Shooting?” I ask as I turn to face him

“Yup they shoot the ones for my man down under” he states looking me dead in my eyes

“What?” I ask as I began to get nervous

“Oh I’m sorry sweetheart I must be confusing you, you see my dad loved to hunt but he’s too old now and lives in my basement. He has me send out the young men to shoot for him and bring him back some animals” he states chuckling

“Ohhhh yeah” I say laughing awkwardly

“Well young lady this is your home now” he says handing me the keys.

“Thank you” I say meekly

“You got your dining room, living room, and kitchen all down here fully furnished as you can see. Bathroom down here one upstairs and both bedrooms upstairs. Oh uhh I’d suggest food shopping early in the day, you don’t want to be out late at night around here….that is due to the wild animals of course like bears and coyotes” he states looking at me

“Of course” I say nodding politely

“Make sure you lock your doors at night. Especially the back door….. animals in the kitchen are never a good thing” he says turning around to head to the front door

“Got it” I state

“And uhhh we’re a family here….youre house is my home….or whatever the saying is….my house is your house….ah you know what I mean” he says shaking his head

We bid our goodbye and I watched him drive off. My hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. This whole conversation was making me nervous and uneasy. One other thing I realized was I’d be having no WiFi here. However my phone had 5G and the service wasn’t awful here shockingly….. I immediately sent an email back to Professor Wayne

“Just got here! The house is actually super nice. It's very historical and artsy. The realtor is a total creep though. His name is Beaufort so that explains a lot! He said some weird things and made weird analogies. Making it seem like beyond the naked eye there’s more to this town…. I’ll keep you posted”

I hit send and slid my phone back into my pocket. I placed the keys in my front pocket and walked outside. The warm sun kissed my skin as I squinted. Walking over to my car I popped the trunk and began to take my luggage’s out.

Suddenly I felt like there were eyes on me. The way the area got super quiet. So quiet you could hear a pin drop. I looked over my shoulder in the least scared way possible. There was nobody there. I rubbed my forehead and let out a breath.

“Y/N relax” I whispered to myself as I took my last luggage out

However unbeknownst to Y/N, she was in fact being watched. A young man on the second floor of his parents house. He stood in his room peering at the young woman through his sheer curtains.

His gaze was dull as he stared out the window, sweat trickled down his forehead, his mouth hung open slightly and his breathing became deep. His fingers swirled and tugged at his red flannel.

She was like out of a movie. He had never seen a woman like that down here. Those are the ones his mom warned him about. The type who didn’t like boys like him, the type he should….hate. However when he looked at her he couldn’t hate her….she seemed precious….precious just like his horse Bertha.

“Young Man! What did I tell you about standing at that window” he heard from behind him, he jilted and turned around

“I’m sorry mama…I wasn’t doin nuffin” he states as he looks at her

“It is not polite to stare at people you aren’t a child anymore. You don’t do that” she says to him

“I wasn’t looking I swear” he says with pleading eyes

“Well you go on now. Your father and I are leaving for the afternoon” she says to the boy

After his mom leaves he pears out his window again. The young woman had stopped to talk on the phone. He was so fascinated by her he simply couldn’t look away.

I hung up the phone after saying bye to my mom and pulled out my second luggage. Rolling it into my house and coming back out to get my third luggage. I huffed out a breath of air and wiped the sweat off my forehead

I leaned over to get the third luggage but it was stuck on something. I sucked my teeth and began to tug on the handle harder.

“Need a hand ma’am?” I heard from behind me

“OH SHIT” I yelled turning around and grabbing my heart

“Oh im sorry darling I didn’t mean to scare you” the young man states backing up a bit

“No it’s okay, I’m new to town so I’m a bit jumpy” I state shaking my head

“My apologies for sneaking up behind you, may I help you?” He asks looking at my trunk

“Yeah please that would be great” I say smiling as I tried to control my breathing

The young man grabs both of my luggages for me and I grab my duffel bags. We walk to the house and he leads the way to my other two luggage’s.

“Thank you so much” I say placing my bags on the couch

“My pleasure sweetheart” he says nodding his head

“I’m Y/N” I say sticking my hand out

“I’m Matthew, but I go by Matt” he says wiping his forehead with the inside of his shirt. The shirt lifted just enough for me to get a perfect view of his lower stomach.

Damn…why were the shit kickers in a creepy town always so hot…. I guess the movies aren’t wrong..

“Well Matt thank you once again, can I offer you some water?” I ask him

“Water would be nice” he says smiling a bright smile

We walked to the kitchen and I found some old glasses left behind. I rinsed it with water and then gave him some water from the sink.

He drank the full cup, allowing the water to dribble down his chin and to his neck. My gaze ever so slightly following the head of water.

“So, what brings you to this part of town darling?” He asks, his accent so thick I couldn’t even focus

“I come from a busy town and I’ve always wanted to move to a small rural area. Pleasant Town seemed just right” I state licking my lips

“Once you see what this towns like you’ll go running for the hills” he says smirking darkly

“What do you mean by that?” I asked clearing my throat

“Well we hunt, we drink beer til we’re piss drunk and race in old cars for fun, we sneak into farms at night and tip over the sleeping cows…. Amongst many other things” he states handing the glass back over to me

“Oh that’s nothing compared to where I’m from” I say placing the glass in the sink

“And that is?” He asks crossing his legs as he leaned against the wall

“Las Vegas Nevada” I state nodding

“Never been” he states

“You should visit one day” I say

“If I ever leave this town” he states swallowing thickly

“If you ever leave?” I question once again

“Well you know this place is home I don’t know how I’d do in a big place like that” he says smiling at me

“I suppose you guys are pretty far behind on a lot” I say giggling

“Oh trust me aren’t we all” he says kicking himself off the wall

“Well uh thank you so much Matt I don’t mean to keep you” I say to him as I begin to walk out the kitchen

“Oh no worries darlin” he says as he follows behind me his thick cowboy boots hitting the wood in all the right places

He opened my front door and began to head out

“I’ll see you around neighbor” I state to him

“See you around, oh and if you ever feel like there’s eyes on you….that's because there is….you know small town haha we can’t escape each other” he says coldly before adding a laugh at the end

“Right…right” I state smiling at him and blinking quickly

I watch him walk across the street and head into the home. I lock my car doors and shut my front door. Locking the door before walking to the kitchen back door, locking that one as well.

I spent the rest of the day sweeping up, cleaning and setting up my room. I hadn’t realized how late it gotten or how hungry I was till my stomach growling woke me up from a small Power Nap.

I got up and realized it was 8pm, I wasn’t sure what food stores would be open, but it was worth the try. Ignoring the warning not to go out at night I grabbed my house keys and car keys.

Locking the front door, I got into my car. Turning it on I put it in reverse. I looked over my right shoulder and when I went to look over my left Matt was there and had banged on my window.

I jumped out of my skin and hit the breaks. Rolling my window down I was breathing heavy

“Sorry sweetie” he says as he looks down at me

“Is there something I can do for you?” I asked him genuinely curious

“Oh me? No no, but you, you shouldn’t be out at this hour” he states

“It’s 8pm though?” I say furrowing my brows

“Yeah well the bears and coyotes come out this time” he says tapping the hood of my car

“I’m just running to the local store” I say

“You shouldn’t be out at this hour” he says again a bit firmer

“Umm okay” I say to him, remember what Professor Wayne said “no enemies this isn’t my turf”

I placed the car back in park and got out. Shutting the door and locking it I looked at Matt, a shot gun in his right hand as my eyes darted up.

“Don’t worry darling this ain’t nothing special. I use this to hunt” he says to me as he moves the gun back a bit

“For uhh Mr. Smithson’s dad?” I ask as my eyes slowly track up to his

“Oh no I do a different type of hunting for him” he says clearing his throat

“Do you now” I say rocking on my heels

“I get the animals causing issues for us here, the ones eating up all our crops. We can’t have those round these parts” he states chuckling

“Yeah…yeah bad for business. I’m going to head in for the night then” I say pointing behind myself

“Well alright now! You have a great night” he says in a whisper while offering me a smile

I smile back before turning in my heels and heading back into the house. Locking the door immediately as I run up the stairs.

I decided to shower and eat some leftover snacks. By this point it was midnight and I decided to brush my teeth so I could lay down for the night.

Shutting the bathroom light off I walk into my dark room using the brightness of my screen to lead me to my bed. Shutting my bedroom door behind me I trot over to my bed. However something in my peripheral view catches my eye.

Through the little dent in the Venetian blinds I see a light on in the house across the street from me. Slowly walking over to the window I peak out the small dent and look across the street.

All I can see is the silhouette of a skinny man with a shotgun in hand standing at the window. Almost like he’s staring out the window….

Suddenly he slides out of view and the light goes out, but I stay looking and I get an uneasy feeling. It’s like he’s still by the window…hiding in the shadows…watching….waiting….

I scared myself by doing this, so I backed away from the window and decided to lay down. Listening to my heart thump in my ears as I focused on controlling my breathing. My mind was racing because I was so nervous about this town and whether or not I made the right decision…..

I attempted to clear my mind and doze off to sleep. I knew I had a full day of adventures the following day especially since I needed to find a supermarket of some sort here!

The End…. For now

Alright guys I know I’ve been GONE, but it feels good to be back! I hope you enjoyed this part. Can’t wait to start working on part 2 shortly 🤭🖤 we’re at 2,009 followers! I love yall soooo much 🥺

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagines #matthew sturniolo imagines #Spotify

[seeingivy]

spiderman’s sweetheart 

spider!eren x f!reader 

you find yourself helping out your friendly neighborhood spiderman

content: spiderman au!, mentions of violence/blood/injury, a very corny spider gang, pieck + hange best girlfriends and aunts, they keep calling the female titan a pervert, the iconic spiderverse monologue at the end

an: based on a request I received from @cutiejg hope you like it sweetie pie!!!! ur request made me so excited I just had to write it now bc I LOVE LOVE LOVE SPIDERMAN 

-- 

Eren’s late. He’s late, he’s late, he’s late. 

His skateboards not moving him nearly fast enough and the stupid fucking school security stopping him every ten feet isn’t helping him either. And the cracks in the pavement slowing him down and the soreness from last night aren’t exactly boosters either. 

When he reaches the basketball courts, he sees you sitting there and feels his heart drop - black sunglasses perched on your face, your hair glowing in the sun, and your nose stuck in a book. As he walks up, he instantly recognizes the cover of the book you’re reading - The Heir to the Jedi - one of his favorite novels from when he was younger. 

He picks up his skateboard from the ground, running his hand through his hair one time before he clears his throat to get your attention. He watches intently as look up, giving him a smile as you yank your earbuds out of your ears. 

“Hi. I’m Eren. Eren Yeager. From the yearbook? We uh- went to elementary school together. And middle school. The same class too - with that hardass Mr. Levi? And uh-I’m sorry I’m late, I just got out of work.” 

Work. In his job as the cities most wanted vigilante, Spiderman. 

He’s cut off by the sound of you laughing, your nimble fingers pulling your sunglasses off the tip of your nose and pulling them up to hold your hair back. 

Fuck. This is infinitely harder when you’re making direct eye contact with him, glowing eyes peering into his. 

“I know who you are, Eren.” 

“You do?” 

“Of course, I do. How could I forget the guy who spilled orange juice all over Mr. Levi - the clean freak hardass himself’s - desk? 

Eren feels his cheeks burn, embarrassment coursing through his blood as he fumbles with the camera around his neck. Great. All you remember is the time he got yelled at and sent to the principal’s office in seventh grade for being clumsy. 

It’s not his fault he spilled the fucking orange juice. You just happened to look at him right at that second, pulling your face up from your textbook, to smile at him and his hands just started sweating and it just happened. 

“Right, uh- so you like Star Wars?” 

He watches you gather your belongings - a pale green waterbottle, your solid black backpack - covered in pins and ribbons as you both head down to the courts. One pin catches his eyes - the signature spider emblem right in the middle. The “I Stand with Spiderman” pins. 

A month after he started this whole Spiderman thing, the police chief called a task-force, aimed towards arresting the “spider vigilante” that was wrecking havoc. He almost got caught, backed up into a corner during one of his first fights, but the people in the city blocked him off, giving him enough time to get away. 

It was…a whole moment. The community, the people - they love Spiderman. So much that they started a whole movement to protect him, started by a group called “The Lions.” The names corny, but they’ve protected him more times than not so…he appreciates it. And that pin - it means you’re a part of it. 

Not only are you a part of a group that supports him, but you’re the class president of the school. And he’s the editor in chief of the yearbook. And in your presidential duties, you’ve tasked him with joining you at all your club progress meetings to take pictures of each club. It’s easier to do it together so you don’t take up that much time from each club - one meeting to get all the business sorted out. 

“Huh? Oh! Because of the book. Yeah, my little brother, Falco. Really into that stuff.” 

“Does he have a favorite character?” 

“Kylo Ren.” 

“I was Kylo Ren for Halloween. Armin, Jean, and Connie were the knights.” 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Why the fuck did he just tell you that he was a nerdy fucking Star Wars character for Halloween? Did he seriously just admit that he has the same interests as your fucking eleven year old little brother? 

“That’s clever, since it sounds like your name and all. Eren - Ren. Falco and I went as Harry and Hermione.” 

“Ah. You should be Rey and Finn next year. Because you’re like….a ray?” 

He watches you turn over to look at him, eyes squinting in confusion. 

Because she’s a ray? Eren Yeager, literal fucking spider-human who can swing from literal buildings, and the best he can come up with is you’re a ray. He couldn’t even finish the sentence and say ray of sunshine? 

“If I’m a ray, than you’re a segment.” 

He laughs so hard, he snorts and it’s literally so fucking embarrassing he wants to crawl in a hole. 

Math joke. You made a math joke. Because if she’s a ray, a part of a line that has no fixed end point, then he’s a segment - a line with two distinct end points. 

Eren tries his best to concentrate, but your sweet honey voice and your soft flowery smell make it hard to pay attention. He snaps the pictures. He walks you to your car. He goes to sleep with a smile on his face. 

- 

from y/n l/n 

you: eren!!! the basketball pictures are so great. ty for all ur help :’) 

Armin, Connie, Jean, and Eren all hover their heads over the phone - lying flat on his bed spread - trying their best to write out the best response. 

This is serious. Eren’s had a crush on you since the fourth grade. And this is his chance. 

“You should tell her thank you. And that you want to get coffee with her.” 

Connie grabs Armin by the collar of his shirt, nearly strangling him in the process. 

“Are you fucking kidding, Armin? He might as well say he wants to have sex with her.” 

Eren can feel his cheeks heat up as Armin and Connie start arguing, half swatting each other on the face. Armin’s screaming into Connie’s ear, the both of them tangling on the floor now. 

“What the fuck are you on about, Connie? It’s coffee shop, not a fucking bar.” 

Eren webs the two of them off each other, giving them both a smack on the back of the head as they stop. 

“You can’t web us Eren. We’re your guys in the chair!” 

Originally, Eren had one guy in the chair. Armin. A bloody genius at all things science and technology - he couldn’t have designed his web slingers without him. Granted, he tried but they didn’t work as well. 

But then he had to tell Connie. Because Connie had an in at the fabric store, his best friend Sasha’s mom as the primary designer, and he desperately needed someone to design a suit so he could keep his identity a secret. So he told him. Because that’s the only way Sasha’s mom would agree. If her biological son basically begged her to make a suit. 

Connie’s a loudmouth. Who told Jean. Who isn’t entirely useless. Sure he’s got a pretty big fucking head, but his dad is also a cop - meaning Jean can steal their radio systems so Eren can respond to events faster than them. 

A spider gang. 

“You’re both some big fucking idiots, that’s what you are. Where the fuck were you raised, Connie? A barn?” 

Eren, Connie, and Armin immediately stop talking the second they hear the swishing sound fill the air, turning their heads to find Jean with the phone in his hands. He sent a message. 

Jean’s smirking at the three of them, shaking the phone in his hands. Eren immediately stalks over, his eyes boggling out of his fucking sockets when he reads the response. 

to y/n l/n 

eren: thanks bae! 

“Jean Kirstein. Count your fucking days.” 

He immediately webs Jean to the wall behind him, slapping across the face one time for good measure as well. 

“What gives? It’s sweet - calling back to the ray joke you told us about.” 

Jean yanks his hand off the drywall, placing the stray webs onto Eren’s bed spread. 

“The ray joke? Your dumbass literally responded with ‘thanks bae’”

Jean sits up, snatching the phone from Eren’s hands as he runs his eyes over the phone again. Jean’s face turns uncharacteristically pink, an apologetic look on his face. Eren tags him to the wall behind him, spiderwebs holding his wrists up properly to the drywall this time. 

“Touch my phone again and I’ll web you upside down from the Empire State Building next.” 

“It was autocorrect! I thought I typed ray.” 

Eren webs over Jean’s mouth to prevent him from talking any further. He plops on the floor, head in his hands. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. This can’t get any more embarrassing. First he spills that orange juice in front of you and then calls you a ray and is late to meeting with you and now sends you this fucking horrifying text? 

You’re going to block him. You’re going to block him and Eren’s going to lose his chance with you. Eren is most definitely going to hang Jean upside down from the Empire State Building. 

His phone dings in the air and the three of them - Connie, Armin, and Eren - nearly drop the phone off the fucking bed trying to read the response. Jean’s voice is muffled against the web - sounding an awful lot like “if it’s a good response, you have to set me up with Mikasa”

from y/n l/n 

you: you’re welcome sweetheart :DDD 

Armin and Connie are fucking shaking Eren by the neck, the three of them screaming in the air. Jean’s still muffling against his web, begging to find out what you responded. 

Eren ignores that embarrassing heart skip in his chest. 

 - 

“Where is it guys?” 

Eren turns up his earpiece, swinging towards the end of the buildings. He could hear the crashing as he was walking back to his apartment, decking into the alley way to suit up. 

Armin - in all of his fucking genius - created matching earpieces for the four of them to use when Eren was on sight, everyone making sure a base was covered. Armin reported on the casualty, trying his best to think of ways to use the enemies weaknesses to Eren’s advantage. 

Connie watched the security cams Jean gave him access to, finding the best access route for Eren to get in and out of places. And Jean, in all his annoyingness, kept surveillance on the fucking cops trying to arrest him at every move. 

“Rose Middle School. Apparently, it’s like some fucking superhuman female titan and she’s giant. She’s wrecking through the parks right now.” 

“On it, Armin. Jean and Connie - keep me updated on where the cops are.” 

“Make sure a flaming car hits Mr. Levi.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Jean.” 

Eren turns his ear piece down, swinging into his old middle school as he surveys the problem. 

And Lord have mercy, she is fucking giant. A chiseled titan of pure muscle, striking blue eyes and blonde hair watching him swing through the air. She’s currently demolishing the PE equipment, which he imagines can’t be too bad, given it’s centuries old. 

Maybe they’ll finally replace the pickle ball equipment with a real sport - like basketball of volleyball. Eren webs her ankles and arms together first, knocking her down to the side. 

“Hey lady. Have you ever thought about like…putting clothes on? This feels weirdly inappropriate.” 

She only roars in response, breaking open the webs around her ankles as she reaches around for him in the air. Eren swings around her, basically flying through the air, as he tags her to the tree behind her. He taps into the ear piece, waiting for a response. 

“Best idea is to leave her there for now, Eren. There’s a kid around the block, make sure he’s okay before you try again.” 

“On it, Armin.” 

He swings around the block, to find one pale, blonde haired kid - a nose stuck in his book and headphones covering his ears. Did he not just see the hoard of kids running away? Or here that female titan just scream? 

He steps down, using his webs to yank the kids headphones off as he steps down in front of him. When the kid looks up, he realizes he has a puddle full of tears in his eyes, his cheeks brazen pink. 

“Hey kid.” 

He sniffles in response, pressing his hand against his nose. 

“Hi.” 

He crouches down, holding out his hand to shake. 

“I’m Spiderman. What’s your name?” 

“Falco.” 

“Nice to meet you, Falco. Want to get out of here before that creepy little weird lady comes back?” 

“Um, yeah. But my sister is supposed to come get me.” 

“Your sister, huh? Did she say where?” 

Stupid sister. Was she really planning on getting you from here? This sister couldn’t meet him at the Starbucks across the street?

“Right here. I’m waiting for her to show up so we can leave. She said to listen to music and read my jedi book so I don’t panic.” 

Jedi Book. Sister. Falco. You. Holy fucking god, this is your little brother. The one who likes the Kylo Ren. 

Right on cue, he can feel his spider sense tingling, with you running behind him - sneakers slapping against the concrete as you sprint. You nearly knock Spiderman over as you grab Falco by the face, cupping his cheeks in your hands as you run your eyes all over him. 

Your face is all scrunched up in panic and Eren can feel his senses heightened at the sight of you, this kid, and this creepy fucking titan lady a few feet away from you. You need to leave. Now. He needs you to leave because he can’t focus if you’re here. 

“You okay, Coco? Let’s go. Right now.” 

“Okay, okay.” 

But before you can, a large crashing sound knocks the three of you to the ground, the stupid female titan standing over the breadth of the elementary school, crystal blue eyes glaring down at the three of you. Spiderman webs up first, spinning around her as he calls out to her. 

“God, lady. You should really put some clothes on. You’re flashing entire titty to a kid right now.” 

All you can do is look up in shock, the titan’s crystal blue eyes staring into yours. Your hold on Falco is nearly deathlike and you shaking Falco’s arms as hard as you can to signal him to follow you. 

You begin to pull him but feel a tug when Falco doesn’t follow. He’s crying hard - tears pouring out of his eyes as he looks down at his feet. 

“I can’t move- I-I’m scared, Y/N.” 

You reach down, pressing your hands firm against his shoulders as you squeeze. 

“This isn’t the time to be scared, Falco. You’re okay. Spiderman’s right there and he’s dealing with-” 

You look up to find Spiderman, trapped in the palm of the titan’s hand, a broken device in his hand and one splayed on the floor, not a few feet away from you. You leave Falco where he’s standing, scrambling over to inspect it. 

It’s small and rectangular - blue and red splayed all over the intricate design work. In the tiniest of handwritings, there’s a small piece of text in the corner. 

property of the spider gang bitch 

Spider Gang? That’s so fucking corny. 

You hear Spiderman yelling out at you, refocusing to your vision to him, where he’s still trapped in her hand. 

“Mind giving me my webslinger back, sweetheart?” 

“Uh- yeah. I-” 

Before you can toss it up to him, the female titan stomps straight on to the concrete, knocking you and all the nearby outposts to the ground. Your ankle is immediately trapped under the mailbox to your right, the webslinger still in your hand. 

You try your best to yank your leg out from the metal, but you can feel your ankle burning - the pressure on your leg making your chest writhe in pain. Falco runs over, his hands in your hair as his hot tears start hitting your cheeks. 

“Hey. Hey hey hey. Falco, right?” 

You both angle your head up, looking at Spiderman talking to the two of you. The titan’s still got him crushed in her hand, but she’s distracted by the sound of the police cars coming up the block. Falco’s taken a few steps forward, towards the stupid alien mutant whatever the fuck titan she is. 

“You’re a strong kid, right?” 

“Not really. I didn’t pass my physical test last week.” 

“Not strong in that way, kid. Strong in the head, the heart.” 

“Um. I don’t know, Spiderman. I’m kind of lame when it comes to stuff like this.” 

Eren racks his head. He just needs his fucking webslinger back so he can get you guys out of here. And not get arrested. And not break every bone in his body from this death grip this naked lady has on him. And to make sure you’re okay. 

“Kylo Ren. He was pretty lame when he started out too right? He had to go to the special Jedi school with Luke and kind of learn everything from the start.” 

Eren sees Falco’s eyes light up, his tears lightly subsiding as he finally meets his eyes up to look at Eren. Bingo. 

“Yeah.” 

“And then he became really, really cool because he just tried it out right?” 

“Yeah and then he became evil and got the Knights of Ren.” 

“Okay, kid. Maybe ignore that part.” 

He sees Falco laugh, the female titan squeezing him harder in his grasp as she looks around, the police helicopters, right on fucking cue, starting to surround the three of you. 

“Okay, Falco. I need you to be strong. Like Kylo Ren, right now. Your sister, she’s got my webslinger in her hand. I need you to get it and then toss it to me. Can you do that?” 

Eren watches Falco nod, turning back to grab his precious, precious web slinger and toss it up to him. He misses the first time. And then the second time. But on the third time, he aims just right, the magnetic latch sliding in and Eren webbing this stupid titan bitch right in the fucking eyes. 

He swings down, lifting the metal mailbox from your legs as he lifts you into your arms, carrying you bridal style. He looks down at you - sweat coating your forehead and your eyes blinking closed. Falco’s at his side watching expectantly, his hand in his hair. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll get you to a hospital right away, okay?” 

He watches you nod in pain, crimson red blood running down the side of your leg. 

“Spiderman. Can I come too?” 

“Kid. That’s a stupid question. Climb on my back. We’ll take Y/N to the hospital, okay?” 

He swings away as the cops close in, the female titan encasing in steam as he swings away. He taps into his earpiece. 

“Someone watch what happens. See if she escapes through the steam somehow since she’ll definitely be back. And where’s the closest hospital?” 

“King Street, Eren. Pieck should be working.” 

“Got it, Armin. Thank you.” 

He swings as fast as he can, trying to ignore Falco’s death grip on his neck and your eyes fluttering closed as he swings into Pieck’s open window. 

A special edition to the Spider Gang (unofficially, of course) - Pieck is the best fucking asset in the world. A Nurse Practitioner he once saved from getting robbed, she’s now indebted to him entirely. And she’s also his Aunt Hange’s girlfriend - not that either of them know he’s Spiderman. 

Not that he would ever ask her for anything personal, he just brings injured civilians caught in his crossfire to her so he can avoid the whole - Are you Spiderman? Do the webs come out of your holes? Can you swing me to work later? 

He swings into her office, laying you flat on the gurney in the center of the room and setting Falco down on the couch nearby. 

As soon as he settles Falco into the chair, he feels his spider sense tingle and spreads his hand behind his neck, catching the syringe Pieck threw at him before it could hit him. He turns his back, smirking at Pieck through his mask. 

“Pieck-chan.” 

“I’m calling the police, SpiderFuck.” 

“Cmon. I saved your life, you know?” 

“That was one time. You’ve almost got me fired three times over.” 

“Cmon, cmon Pieck. This girl, I know her. Just help her out, yeah? She’s really sweet, y’know that?” 

He watches Pieck divert her eyes past him, focusing on you writhing on the gurney. She sighs as she smacks Eren on the side of the head, reaching forward to attend to your leg. 

“Get out of here, SpiderAss. They’ll be circling around the building any minute.” 

Eren runs up, tackling Pieck in a hug, before she can protest and swings out the window. 

-  

You haul your black boot up the door, knocking on the door. You can see “Zoe” inscribed into the little call box, ensuring that you did find the correct apartment from the directory. You can hear a loud rustling behind the door and the door swings open. You’re met with Hange, Eren’s aunt. 

“Hi. My name is Y/N. I attend Shiganshina High School. I’m a classmate of Eren’s, I was wondering if he was here.” 

“Pieck. Pieck! THERE’S A GIRL HERE TO SEE HIM.” 

Eren’s aunt drags you in by the wrists, taking the tin of brownies in your hand and setting it on the table, as they inspect you. Their eyes are glinting with excitement as they smile at you, teetering on their ankles as they talk. 

“Do you like Eren? Oh, isn’t he just so nerdy and sweet, I just love him. Do you love him?” 

A hand comes straight into Hange’s hair, yanking them back. You follow the line of vision, seeing that the hand belongs to Pieck. The nurse that Spiderman dropped you off to. Only more proof that you’re right. 

Pieck leans straight into Hange’s frame, rolling her eyes at Hange as she starts talking to you. 

“We were starting to worry about the kid. I thought he was impotent or something.” 

“Oh! Uh, no-” 

Hange leans over into your space, grabbing you by the shoulders. 

“How do you know he’s not impotent? Oh, you two better be having safe sex or I swear to god.” 

“No! Oh, no no, I swear it’s not-” 

Hange keeps rambling to themselves as they walk around the kitchen, yanking Pieck along with them. Pieck glances to your side, mouthing the words “he’s upstairs” as you shoot her a grateful smile and you start lugging your boot up the stairs. 

You knock on the door, voices muffled on the inside as you peak in. When you swing open the door, you find Connie, Eren, Jean, and Armin in a very strange position. The four of them are clearly playing Twister - Eren’s face near Jean’s ass and Connie’s hand right near Armin’s…dick. 

“Uh. Hi guys.” 

At the sound of your voice, they all quirk their heads towards you, so shocked at your presence that they all tumble on each other. You hear Hange screaming from the bottom of the stairs, her words making your cheeks turn red. 

“Eren Yeager. You better not be having sex with that girl in my house!” 

You watch Eren tangle out of the mess, rubbing the back of his neck as he screams back at Hange, slamming the door shut. He helps Armin and Jean up, before he turns back to you - his cheeks glowing pink. 

“Hi Eren.” 

“Hi Y/N. What are you doing here? Is your leg okay?” 

You hold out the card, embellished in your sparkly pink stationery and hold it out to him. You bought him a gift card - to Joe’s, the coffee shop near the highschool. You’d seen him bring a half empty cup to class a few times and figured it would be the best gift. 

You had to thank him. Because your leg put you out of commission for a week, you hadn’t been coming to school. And he sent you all the assignments (and the answer keys) while you were out. And made sure to tell all the clubs to keep their emails to themselves until you were back. And if you’re right, he’s the one who saved your life. 

“This is for you. Thank you - for the homework and the emails. It helped a lot.” 

You lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, the skin soft and warm under your lips. Jean face plants on to the floor, Connie and Armin staring at you in shock. 

“Right. I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you guys. You’re Connie, Armin, and Jean?” 

They all nod, awkwardly shaking their heads as they plant on to Eren’s futon, Eren joining them on the seat. You sit right on Eren’s bed, the sheets Jurassic Park themed, as you face them. 

Here goes. 

“I know your secret.” 

“We know yours.” 

Eren smacks Jean across the back of his head, signaling him to shut up. 

“I thought about it. Really hard when I was in the hospital. You see, I really didn’t have much to do.” 

You lay back on Eren’s bed, pin pointing each of them and what you discovered by the line they’re sitting in. Jean first. 

“You know, one of the biggest mysteries about Spiderman is how he manages to get to casualties and robberies so fast. They’re usually reported through the police department, the intercoms only going through the radio.” 

The four of them are twitching at your words, after you casually drop the word Spiderman specifically, as you continue. 

“There was a radio that went missing a few weeks ago. Police Officer Kirstein lost the intercom on his way home from his shift. It was never recovered.” 

Jean turns red at the implication, his knees shaking as he drops his eyes. You’re right. You’re right, you’re right, you’re right. Connie next. 

“And you know, Spiderman has a very cool suit. Blue and red, specially stitched and special fabric clothes. I’ve thought long and hard about who could have designed it, but really there’s only one good designer in New York. Lisa Braus.” 

You turn your eyes to Connie, whose awkwardly looking around the walls, at anywhere but you. 

“Lisa Braus is Sasha Braus’s mother. You know, I’ve heard she can be coerced really easily, she really loves her daughter. I’m sure if you, Connie, gave Sasha say - a promise of a lifetime of free lunches from your parents restaurant - she could have given in and gotten her mom to make the costume. No questions asked.” 

Connie wrings his hand around his neck, groaning as he leans back into the futon. Armin’s hands are splayed right across his thighs, surely rubbing the sweat off on his slacks. 

“And the web-slingers. Ingenious design, really. There’s only one person who beat me out at the Tech-A-Thon in ninth grade. And it was you, Armin. They have your name written all over it - the design, the metrics. Though, you’re getting kind of sloppy. From the few seconds I looked at it, I think you can pack more webs if you lay them diagonally against the hardware instead of vertically.” 

You watch the gears move in Armin’s head as he thinks over your suggestion, turning to Eren to shrug. And then you look at Eren, leaning his elbows on his knees as he looks at you. 

“And you. You’re Spiderman. That day, when you saved me and Falco. You told him to be strong, like Kylo Ren. But you don’t know Falco like that. All you know is what I’ve told you And there’s no way Spiderman could have known that - unless you were Spiderman.” 

He leans over, his green eyes glaring into yours. 

“That’s all a coincidence, Y/N. Maybe you hit your head when you fell on that mailbox.” 

You falter for a second. You can’t be wrong. You can’t be wrong because you’re sure of it. You’ve thought it over for the past few days and he has to be. He has to be Spiderman. 

“How do you know it was a mailbox? Stop lying, Eren. I know it’s you.” 

“No, you don’t-” 

Eren stands up and you join him, getting closer to him as you keep talking, trying to convince him that you know. 

“You-you took me to Pieck when I got hurt. And while Pieck is just a nurse and anyone would do it, you took me to her specifically. Because you know she’ll fix it. Not just because she’s a nurse who cares about healing people but if she tries to rat you out - you can tell her you’re Spiderman. She’ll defend you like no other because you’re basically her pseudo-kid.” 

“You’re making things up, Y/N.”

“And the earpiece. You said “got it, Armin” when you were carrying me to the hospital. I’ve looked and looked. Armin Arlert is the only Armin in Brooklyn. It’s a pretty unique name. And I know if you’re Spiderman and he’s probably the first person you told. You’ve been best friends forever and-

“Y/N. Seriously-

“No, Eren. Because Spiderman called me sweetheart! And I called you sweetheart when you called me bae and you told Pieck that you knew me and that I was a sweet girl when you thought I couldn’t hear you.” 

You place your hands on his shoulders, boring your eyes into yours as he looks at you. 

“Eren. You’re Spiderman. And I would never, ever tell anyone.” 

You watch as he drops his gaze, muttering under his breath. 

“Got me all figured out, don’t you sweetheart?” 

Eren settles back down on the couch, as Connie, Jean, and Armin start their protests. 

“Eren, you can’t just go around telling people you’re fucking Spiderman.”

“You’re a vigilante. Do you know that? Her dad is the fucking police captain who wants your head on a stick.” 

“Spider Gang is already way too big as it is. Your identity will get revealed if you keep being an idiot.” 

You clear your throat, the four of them craning their heads to look at you. You look down awkwardly at your hands as you sit back down on Eren’s bed, rustling with your keys in your pocket. 

“You guys told me a secret. I can tell you one too.” 

Jean leans forward, rolling his eyes at you.

“He just admitted he was Spiderman, sweetheart. I don’t think anything compares to that.” 

Eren brings his hand down in Jean’s hair and yanks hard. 

“Don’t call her that.” 

You yank your keys out, fumbling with them in your hands openly. 

“You guys know about “I Stand With Spiderman”?” 

Connie rolls his eyes, glaring at you. 

“Obviously. Shit’s a fucking revolution at this point.” 

“I started it. The pins and the spray art and telling everyone.” 

You watch the four of them go slack jawed, for what feels like the tenth time today, staring you down. Armin speaks first this time, standing up to run his hand through his hair. 

“You-you’re the Lions?” 

“Yeah. It’s a stupid name, but-” 

Jean cuts you off, nearly strangling you as he shakes your entire frame in his hands. 

“That’s fucking impossible. Your dad is a bigger pig than mine and there’s no way in hell his fucking daughter is the one who started the thing that protects Eren every time he’s out there.” 

“That’s just the point, Jean. I got mad at my dad. So I started it. I think Spiderman’s the best thing that happened in the community and I knew that people agreed with me. So I did what I knew how to do. Spray paint. Pins. The people.” 

Eren stands up, yanking Jean off to grab your hands and lock his fingers with yours. 

“The Lions?” 

You clear your throat, explaining. 

“Harry and Hermione are Gryffindors. And Gryffindors are lions.” 

You can feel your cheeks turn pink - from Eren staring at you so close and holding your hands and Armin smiling at the two of you in your peripheral vision. You hold your keys up, dangling them between yours and Eren’s face, your shiny little Lego Harry Potter key chain making Eren’s eyes light up. 

Eren lets go of your hands and starts rummaging through his drawers, looking for something. He pulls out a small black string. Her reaches up to push your loose hairs behind your ears, stringing the piece through your ear. 

He taps on his own ear, speaking into the mic. His voice vibrates through your, a beaming smile on his face. 

“Y/N. Welcome to Spider Gang.” 

“That’s a really corny nickname, Eren. Could you really not come up with anything better?” you laugh, smiling at him.

“Says the girl who named a fucking revolution after Harry Potter.” Jean speaks up, glaring at you as he talks. 

“Jean. Shut the fuck up.” 

“Sorry, Eren.” 

 - 

Eren’s swinging through the buildings, clutching the side of his thigh as he retreats back to his apartment. 

Stupid fucking female titan. He’s been encountering her here and there - a total of six times now and he still has yet to understand what she’s doing. 

She appears out of nowhere, in locations that have no thread of connection - the elementary school, the coffee shop on the block near the bodega, the botanical garden all the way out of Brooklyn. 

He can’t figure it out. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t talk. No matter how many times he insults her for being a naked pervert, she still doesn’t break. 

When he makes it back to his apartment, swinging into his room through the open window, he finds his spider team…down. Armin and Connie are sprawled on the ground, hair all messy and tiredness pressed on their faces as they pore over the new web-slinger designs. Jean’s on the computer, six empty cans of redbull on his desk as he pores over the footage, trying to figure out how she escaped. 

And you. You’re sprawled on Eren’s dinosaur sheets, using the DNA samples he gave you as a pillow, lightly drooling onto the results. He reaches down, lifting your head gently as he places it back down onto a real pillow, as you mumble on in your sleep. 

“Is she okay, Armin?” 

“Ah. She might be taking her Spider Gang duties a little bit too seriously than the rest of us. That and she’s more busy - she’s still doing all of her class president and internship stuff on top of this.” 

He sees you move in your sleep, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand, as you focus in on your surroundings. The second you see Eren, the gash in his thigh, you jump up from the bed, scooting over to examine the gash. 

“Eren. Are you okay? You’re okay, right? Because I think I might be on to something and you can get her next time. I-I think she goes to our school or maybe-” 

Eren presses his hand to your knee as you take the seat next to him, leaning over to look at the gash. 

“Guys. Can I talk to her alone please? And get my dinner from Pieck, there’s no way I can hide this from her.” 

Armin, Connie, and Jean close the door behind him, leaving you to help Eren strip out of his suit. You’re trying your best to be gentle - pausing every time he hisses and groans in pain, lightly pulling the fabric out of the gash on his thigh. 

After it’s off, you reach for the kit Jean stole from Pieck’s room, cleaning and bandaging the wound. You try your best to not focus on the fact that Eren’s just wears his boxers under the suit and he’s just wearing his boxers right now in front of you. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi Eren.” 

“You know, you don’t have to take your Spider Gang duties so seriously. We’re all trying to figure out who she is and the bulk of it doesn’t have to fall on you.” 

“Spider Gang is a stupid name. And yes, I do. They barely spend any time thinking about it - with Jean trying to push back on all the initiatives they’re putting into stop you and Connie and Armin trying to perfect your tech so you can last longer.” 

“I last just fine. I just mean…you’re busy. Take a break, I don’t like seeing you guys all so worn out.” 

You push hard on the wound on accident, Eren groaning in pain. 

“Sorry. But we don’t like seeing you hurt Eren. You’re literally bleeding onto your futon right now and that’s not exactly a fun thing to see either.” 

He tilts his head down, his eyes in front of yours. 

“Worried about me, sweetheart?” 

You feel your cheeks burn, placing your hand in his hair to move his head out of the way. You start placing the bandages over the mark, smoothing them out with your hands. 

“Yes, Eren. Sue me. You’re fighting a crazy, perverted naked lady everyday. Arrest me if it’s so criminal to worry about you.” 

Eren laughs as he places one of his hands around your face, angling your face up so you look at him. You’re glaring at him, which Eren only returns a soft smile to. 

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m Spiderman.” 

“Yes. You’re Spiderman. Not God, Eren. You can get hurt. And you just did. And she’s crazy and-

Eren presses his hands around your waist, pulling you in his lap to sit on him. You’re careful not to rest your legs against his wound, your arms secured around his neck and his around your waist. 

“Y/N. Are you scared of her?” 

You can feel the tears burning in your eyes at the question, your heart dropping in your chest. 

“Horrified, Eren. She-she knocked that mailbox onto my leg and had you in her hand and I just-I thought she was going to crush you and then Falco next. And I dream about it all the time, and it’s just- my leg still doesn’t feel the same and it hurts and-” 

Eren tangles one of his hands around your neck, laying your face flat against his neck as he rubs small circles into your back. You’re crying - wet tears falling onto his neck as you rack sobs into his neck. 

You’re not going to get hurt. You’re not going to get hurt because he’s Spiderman and he’s going to protect you. And there’s no point in him having any of this if you feel this way. 

“You were really brave that day, Y/N. You and Falco.” 

“Just Falco, Eren. You-you made him so brave, I feel like his confidence has been better lately and-” 

“Even if you were petrified, you were still brave regardless. I’ve seen it happen - people freeze up in shock, freak out when they’re faced with things like this. But here you are, still fighting it, in the way that you can. You’re brave, sweetheart.” 

You avoid the tingling in your chest at the nickname, his hands on yours, and his sweet, sweet voice in your ears. 

He’s going to find that fucking female titan if it’s the last thing he does. 

 - 

“Armin, what the fuck happened? Why did we just lose connection?” 

The four of you - Armin, Connie, Jean, and you - are currently locked in the computer lab, six hours after the school closed. You had planned it all out, set a trap for the Female Titan underneath the school, so that Eren could catch her once and for all. 

The problem? Eren just went underground. And he had been talking to you for the last twenty minutes. But you heard it, that loud, high-pitched feminine voice and then static in all four of your earpieces. 

Armin’s smacking on his computer, Jean clicking through all the footage. All of the camera’s are still up and running, all but one on static. You stop Jean in his stead, as Armin and Connie smack on the computer, trying to fix the ear pieces. 

“Wait, wait, Jean. Where is that?” 

“Girls locker room. The volleyball team was there last.” 

You lean over to Connie, opening his computer as you log into your accounts. Jean’s leaning over your chair, both of you hovering as you log into your administrative office account. 

“What gives, Y/N?” 

“Jean. The girl, female pervert whatever. She must have transformed in there and broke the camera. Whichever girl didn’t log in for practice today, since there’s no way that girl isn’t injured from the fight she had with Eren last night, has to be the girl we’re looking for. Attendance in class but not in practice.” 

Armin, Jean, and Connie lean over your neck as you log into the account, loading the nursing record for today. And then you find it. 

Annie Leonhart has requested a medical leave of absence for the week due to an extenuating injury. She may return to regular practice next week. 

Signed Pieck Finger, N.P. 

Armin all but falls out of his chair, quickly getting up to fix the computers. 

“Shit shit shit shit shit.” 

You grab his shoulder, basically strangling him as you ask. Because why the fuck is he so worried that Annie is the fucking female pervert? 

“What’s wrong, Armin? Why are you so panicked?” 

“Annie. She suspects that Eren is Spiderman. And she…she wants to know who he is for sure, she’s told me that before. And if she puts him into a corner, she’s going to expose him to the police.” 

You feel your throat run dry as the tears start working their way up to your eyes, burning hot. No. Because they’re going to arrest Eren. Maybe even kill him and- 

Connie drops his laptop straight onto the floor, his eyes weary as he looks up at the ceiling. 

“What now, Connie?” 

“Y/N. It-it’s Friday. Meaning, they’re resetting the plumbing for the weekend and-” 

Armin speaks up next, racking his hands through his hair. 

“Oh my god. The sink waters flooding in the tunnels. He’s done for.” 

You grab Armin by the collar, the anger seething in your chest. 

“Why is he done for? What’s wrong with the water, Armin?” 

“The webs. We haven’t perfected them yet and they dissolve in water. And it’s not a big deal because it’s not raining yet but-” 

Now you get it. 

“He’s down there with no defenses. And Annie’s going to get him any second. And tell everyone who he is.” 

Jean grabs you by the shoulders, shaking your head as he fixes your hair against your ears. 

“Think. Think, Y/N. You must know something about how to turn it off - you sit through all those administrative board meetings and talk to every fucking faculty member at this school because you’re a goody two shoes. You must know something.” 

And then you remember. The only way to turn off the water is to go down there, close off the pipes manually. 

You leave the three of them in the computer leg and sprint on your bad leg, down to where you know Eren’s waiting for you.  

 - 

Connie, Armin, and Jean find you an hour later. You’re in the tunnels, where they set their trap, with a huge gash on the side of your head and a very bruised and battered Eren in your hands. You’re crying hard, your hands soft on Eren’s hands trying to will him to wake up. 

Connie and Jean loop their arms around Eren’s, prying him out of your arms to lift him out of the tunnels. Armin helps you up, supporting your bad leg. 

“What happened, Y/N?” 

“I got down here, Tried turning off all the pipes manually. Eren was still trying his best, climbing around when I got most of the pipes off. She delt a few good blows but I mentioned that I knew she’s Annie and she kind of….ran off. She wasn’t really trying to…expose him or anything but I feel like she was trying to get the tech.” 

“You okay? I know she scares you and…” 

“Yeah. I just-we have to take Eren to Pieck. We can’t fix him on our own-” 

“No. No he wouldn’t want us to.” 

“He can’t want anything if he’s dead.” 

“He’s not dead.” 

“You-you don’t know that. He’s not invincible just because he’s Spiderman, he-he’s just Eren. And he can get hurt and I don’t want him to die and-” 

Armin wordlesly agrees to take Eren to Pieck, the five of you piling into Jean’s car. Eren’s next to you, still not awake with his head slackly leaned against your shoulders. 

When you reach the apartment, Connie, Jean, and Armin task themselves with bringing Eren in as you explain to Hange and Pieck. You knock on the door, teary eyed to Hange and Pieck responding, worry in their eyes at the blood leaking down the side of your face. 

Pieck reaches forward, lifting your face in her hands which you swat off. 

“P-Pieck. H-Hange. It’s Eren and he…he’s not okay. Please just help him without asking anything, I don’t want him to die on us.”

Connie and Jean drag Eren in, lifting him onto the couch as Hange racks back sobs. You go to Hange’s side, squishing them in an embrace as Pieck gets to work, cursing under her breath as she goes on. 

“Wake up, SpiderFuck. Of course, this dumbass bothering me for the past three months is our kid. I’m going to kill you, you son of a bitch when you wake up, you know that? Stupid SpiderMotherfucker, I hate you-” 

Pieck works around him, taking Hange from your arms as she leaves the two of you in the living room when she’s done. Connie, Jean, and Armin leave you with him - already working on figuring out where Annie went upstairs. 

You take Eren’s hand in yours, squeezing tight as you whisper to him. 

“Wake up. Wake up, Eren.” 

No response. 

“Come on. You can’t be serious. You-you’re Spiderman and you don’t get hurt and-” 

No response. 

“I….I can’t be brave without you, please be okay.” 

No fucking response. You lay your forehead flat against the table as the sobs rack through you, Eren’s uneven breaths continuing on the table. 

“Please, Eren. Come back to me.” 

You feel a hand at the top of your hair, pressing down to the length of your neck. You look up to find Eren, weakly smiling at you as he winces. You sit up immediately, tears still streaming down to your neck, as you cup his face in your hands. 

“Eren.” 

“Quit crying, sweetheart. I’m Spiderman.” 

You laugh through your sobs as you press yourself against his chest, hugging him as softly as you can. You can feel his hands on your back, jaggedly circlcing into the small of your back. 

“Where are we?” 

“Your house. Pieck fixed you up and-” 

He sits up, groaning as he glares at you.

“Don’t tell me you told them that I was-” 

“I had to, Eren. I thought you were dead and-” 

“I wasn’t dead. I’m Spiderman!”

“Spiderman can die, Eren. And you didn’t fucking wake up.” 

“I heal supernaturally fast. You should have given me a minute to come to.”  

“The fact that you needed Pieck’s medical attention to come to right now, four hours after the fact, tells me that you weren’t fucking okay, Eren! And they don’t care and-” 

“You think my aunt, Hange, who watched my parents fucking die in front of me doesn’t care that I risk my fucking life on the line everyday? They fucking care!” 

“It’s not a big deal, they just want you to be okay and-” 

“And what the fuck were you doing down in the tunnel? Don’t pretend like I don’t see that fucking gash on your pretty face and I’m just ignoring it right now.” 

You can feel the anger seething in your chest and you really, really want to smack Eren right about now. 

“We figured it out. Annie Leonhart, the girl from the soccer team, she’s the pervert titan. And she’s-she’s trying to expose you as Spiderman. Or maybe not, I don’t know. And the water tunnels were on and I know your webs dissolve in water and I just-” 

“You just what? Thought you’d run down them and turn them off?” 

“Yeah, asshole. For you.” 

“You know the best part of Spider Gang. You’re the team in the chair. Do you understand what that means? You keep your ass in the chair and away from shit like this!” 

“I can’t just sit by and do that.” 

“Why the fuck not?” 

“Because I’m not Connie or Armin or Jean. I’m not just your friend who can sit by and let you get hurt. You’re-you’re not just” 

“What am I then, huh?” 

“You’re the guy I love. I can’t just fucking watch you bleed out from a tunnel and pretend it’s okay, Eren.” 

You’re both panting, chests heaving from screaming so loudly. Eren closes the space between you, pressing his lips to yours as you melt under his touch. You can taste metal - surely from the cut on his lip - but you can also taste mint, definitely from the stupid pocket he made for Altoids in his suit. He’s smiling against your lips, leaning his weight on you as you rest your forehead against his.

“Guy you love, huh?” 

“Shut up. When did you become so cocky, Eren?” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, pushing your burning cheeks into his shoulder as he laughs against your ears. The next questions genuine, his voice wavering when he asks. 

“Do you only love me because I’m Spiderman, Y/N?” 

“No. I love Spiderman because he gives Eren the confidence to talk to me. You…you’ve always been so shy and stand-offish with me since we were kids, I…kind of thought you hated me. But Jean told me, you’re just really awkward.” 

“Remind me to kick Jean’s ass.” 

“And…I always liked you. You know, we really didn’t need pictures of each of the clubs. I already took those during club registration at the beginning of the year. I just wanted an excuse to be around you and I think that’s technically an abuse of power but-” 

He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours once again, leaning so hard on you that you both get knocked on the couch. You’re both laughing, smiling so hard that Hange and Pieck and the rest of Spider Gang comes down to find you two giggling on the couch. 

Now that Eren’s sentient, Hange yells at him for three things. One. Being Spiderman. Two. Being a dumbass and getting hurt. Three. Attempting to have sex with this girl on the couch. 

And then they ask if Eren should be taken to a vet, since he’s technically half spider. 

The five of you corner Annie later that week. And she confesses it all - that she didn’t know when this power happened, or what came over her, or even what’s going on. And that she doesn’t want to expose Spiderman, she wanted the technology. 

She wants to know what’s wrong with her. And she figured that if she knew who Spiderman was, if she could lure him out by stealing his tech, she can find the person who makes his tech and have them help her. 

Eren extends his hand first. Promising that Spider Gang (a name that she snorts at) promises to help her figure it out and control it if she promises to not wreck havoc or drop mailboxes on your leg again. And she explains that she has no control when it comes over her, that she really doesn’t want to hurt people. 

When Armin figures it out and when Annie can control it, she’s instated as the sixth member of SpiderGang. Eighth if you count Pieck and Hange. 

And she doesn’t scare you. It’s nice to have another girl on the team. Especially one who hates “Spider Gang” as much as you. And it’s sweet to watch Armin and Annie bustle around each other, working on perfecting the tech. 

And to watch Jean and Connie tease them. And to have Eren swing you around in New York and sneak into your bed every night and save lives all around the city. 

- 

Okay. Let’s do this one last time. 

My name is Eren Jeager. I was bitten by a radioactive spider. And for the last six months, I’m the one and only Spiderman, equipped with a fully functional Spider Team. Officially dubbed, begrudingly, the Spider Gang. 

Connie and Jean, codenames C-Man and Horseface (since using real names got me exposed the last time) are my surveillance team. Surveying out my enemies, making sure the cops don’t get to me - they’re important reconnaissance for each mission. 

Armin and Annie, codenames Ocean Eyes and Pervert Lady (don’t ask). They’re my technical geniuses. Always redefining my tech, fixing up my webs to make them stronger, faster. There’s no Spiderman without Spidertech. 

And Y/N, codename Sweetheart. My girl in the chair. And the one in my heart too. Not only does she figure out motives/identities/locations for every villain and plan out every attack before I do it, but she’s the main reason Spiderman even exists. 

Why I fight so hard. 

I have to keep Brooklyn safe for my girl.

#KEEHEE #eren #eren jeager #eren x you #eren x reader #eren x y/n #spider eren #spider eren x you #spiderman au #eren jeager x you #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager x y/n #eren jeager fluff #eren fluff #aot x you #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot fluff #attackn on titan #snk x you #snk x reader #snk x y/n #snk #shingeki no kyojin #armin arlert #jean kirstein #connie springer #annie leonhart #read more break #seeingivywrites!

[that---one---kid]

The cold snow

Coriolanus x Reader

AN: Sorry it kinda progressed really fast and I should’ve wrote him getting gradually more obsessive, but I’ll write another like that. Do yall think reader should relate more to teens nowadays though? Should I put her hitting a vuse in the next fic?

Smut, non-con, dub-con, arranged marriage, dark!Coriolanus, baby trapping, mentions of murder, threatening, reference to domestic violence, drugging, loss of virginity

Not once did you feel love for a man. Not once did you plan on getting married. And not once did you ever consider marrying a man from the capital, they were all the epitome of stuck-up, heartless and cruel bastards dressed up to hide it with a thick veil of elegance, but, alas, when did things you wanted ever go your way. You hide a scowl as the man you had heard far too much stood in front of you next to your father. “..and I'm sure she’s looking forward to the dress!” Your father laughed. “I’m quite sure my cousin is just as excited to help with the design.” The snow-haired boy- no, monster, said, turning to face you, his cold blue eyes look unnerving in the dim light of your dining room. You wondered if he had that same look in his eyes as he came up with ways to monetize innocent deaths. You give a forced smile, directed towards your soon-to-be husband. “I can’t wait to see what she comes up with!” Your voice sounds more strained than intended. Your father's hand lands heavy on your shoulder and he gives you a squeeze before speaking. “Coriolanus, it’s been an absolute pleasure as always, but I hate to keep you too late. University I’m sure is tiring enough and you’ll have Y/N to talk your ear off soon enough.” You shift your shoulder and shake his hand off. Your father gives you a look and Coriolanus smiles before taking your hand and raising it to his lips, bowing slightly he kisses your hand softly, the feeling of his lips on your skin makes a chill run up your spine. “Right again Mr. L/N, but I do look forward to having someone else to talk to aside from Gran’mam and Tigris and Y/N is a wonderful conversationalist.” Your father makes his way to the front door alongside Coriolanus while you snake away as they’re too preoccupied with a conversation of politics and wedding arrangements. You quietly make your way upstairs, narrowly missing a maid in your hurry to slip out of your dress and into a bath, washing the filth you felt from that monster touching you off of your skin. You weren’t naive to Coriolanus Snow. Despite a year his junior plenty of people had talked of the tenth games, of Coriolanus’s ideas, and even reminiscing on it made your blood boil even more so the fact that your father would not only condone his actions but praise them. He talked nonstop of Coriolanus’s genius and innovative brain, paired with an influential name is precisely why he was so eager to offer you up as a bride for this up-and-coming president. A soft knock on your bedroom door alerts you. “I’m in the bath!” You yell. Hearing a soft creek, footsteps slowly follow. “Hello?” You yell, a brunette female avox holding a silk robe enters your bathroom. You shift to cover yourself, despite having servants since childhood you never did get used to their lack of speech and dead stare. If your tongue got cut out you wouldn’t have much light in your eyes either, you suppose. “Thanks, just leave it on the counter.” The silent woman robotically moves towards the counter and places it down before leaving, swift footsteps and a quiet door closing signaling it was time for you to get you. Quickly standing and pulling the drain, the cool air on your skin gives you goosebumps. Slipping on the robe, there's another knock on your bedroom door. “Yeah, just one minute…” You pause, trying to recall the avox’s name, but drawing a blank.

Had even you dehumanized these indentured servants so much that you never learned their names? “Y/N?” Your head perks up from the thought. “Uh, you can come in, Mother, I just got out of the bath.” The door closes and you make yourself decent before walking out into your bedroom. Your mother sits at the edge of your bed, her thin frame barely sinking into the plush sheets. Your mother, although barely giving out any more than the bare minimum of maternal comfort, had always been a confidant for you. Rarely speaking unless spoken to, dressed to your father's liking, and eating the rations for a mouse on your father's request, you had always had a soft spot for her. You knew from a young age you wanted nothing to do with men, and never wanted to be trapped in a marriage like your mother was, loveless and cold it was no wonder you were an only child. She motions for you to sit next to her. “Grab your brush and let's talk.” Grabbing your brush off the vanity beside you, you walk over and stiffly sit next to your mother, handing her your brush. She grabs a lock of your hair and begins working her way through the tangles. This goes on for a few minutes before she breaks the silence. “I know you’re not happy about the marriage.” You roll your eyes and let out a huff. “Forgive me for not wanting to marry the malicious Mr. Snow, I know I’m sooo lucky to get a shot with someone who can make such a spectacle of child murder.” The sarcasm that made you bite your tongue around your father was let loose around your mother  She brushes out a knot with more force than she should, making you let out a wince. Sighing she continues on to another section of hair. “No need to be smart.” She puts down the brush and turns you towards her. Her pale, perfectly curated mask of makeup cracks up close. Her tired eyes and creases from many nights of poor sleep cannot be hidden, no matter how much concealer and powders are applied. “I was much more naive than you are when I married your father. I had the stories and the glory days of the capitol, but I was wrong. I know we haven’t set the best example of marriage for you, but please take this away if nothing else.” Your mother looks at you with a stern and pleading gaze. “You need to submit yourself to this fate.” Her voice is desperate and you can only give her a deadpan stare, “I’m not like you, mother, I have no interest in-” A stinging pain floods your senses, your cheek beginning to get hot accompanied by what you're sure is a brilliant red handprint. Your mother composes herself, fumbling with her hands in her lap, a blank stare adorns her tired face. “Unless you want to feel that and much worse from a hand much heavier than mine, I suggest you heed my advice.” Quickly and quietly, your mother stands up and walks to the door while you sit still in a somewhat shocked state from the normally docile woman's slap. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, I don't want you to go through what I did.” And with that she leaves, leaving you to recover and slip into a nightgown before lying in bed, a futile attempt to make sleep come quicker as your head swims through questions, realizations and your inevitable fate of entrapment.

A week comes and goes, you fill your time with work from the academy, struggling to get through dinners and talks with your father about marriage and the upcoming wedding. Your mother, to her credit, uncharacteristically changes the subject from time to time, giving you few and far-between sympathetic glances. You're grateful for that, at least. “I have business to attend to in District Two for a while, your mother and I will be away for at least a week, maybe more.” Your father says in between bites of sirloin. “Will Arthur be coming around?” Arthur was your uncle, a distant relative your father would like to forget, but it was the one fight he lost to your mother, her absolute refusal for him to isolate her completely from her eldest brother was what a majority of their fights were about in your childhood. Despite that, Arthur always made things more lively, less constrictive, and was the rare times you saw your father intimidated. Your father pauses before speaking again. “He is not, I see it fitting that Coriolanus comes and stays with you while we are away. He will escort you to school and come with his driver to pick you up after his university classes.” You clench your fork, and anger and something akin to nervousness twists in your stomach. Steadying your mind before speaking, you look to your mother who sips her wine, refusing to look at you. “Does that not seem improper, Father. I mean we aren’t to be wed for two more months. What image would that look like?” You try finding any loop, using the family image as leverage wasn’t ideal, but it was a last-ditch effort. “Since when have you cared about your public image? It sets a strong front up for the two of you. I want you to be seen with him as a young respectful woman from a strong house, someone the people can see as the first lady of Panem and I trust you will do as told.” There’s emphasis at the end of his words, more like a threat. Your mother clears her throat before excusing herself to the restroom. The rest of the dinner was sat in tense silence.

A knock at the door causes you to shoot your head up from your book in the living room.  Your parents had left early in the morning and it was now early afternoon, you tried easing the building nerves in your stomach by reading non-stop since before the sun was up, with time put aside to make sure your hair and makeup were perfect because despite hating you fiance and dreading his arrival, some small part of you still wanted to be desired by him.  You set down your book before whispering yelling at the avox passing by. You could see a small glimpse of Coriolanus waiting at the door from the window, but the tree would make it hard for him to see you. As childish as it sounded you asked the avox to wait until she heard your bedroom door from upstairs to close before letting coriolanus in. Like a child caught sneaking down stairs to get a glimpse of Santa, you ran quickly and quietly upstairs, praying silently that Coriolanus didn’t look through the windows next to the door only to see you scampering upstairs to hide in your bedroom. As quickly as you could you make it to your bedroom and slam the door just loud enough so that it could be heard downstairs. From there you crawl into your bed and under the covers of your bed, but instead of hiding from the monsters under the bed like when you were a child, you’re hiding from the monster downstairs, the one who comes to strip you of what little freedom you had left. Hearing the stairs creak makes the dull anxiety turn into panic as the creaking disappears, meaning they’ve now made it to the second floor, meaning they, who you were hoping weren't Coriolanus, were most likely heading for your door. Thinking quickly, you feign sleep, hoping that the oldest trick in the book will work on whoever came to disturb you.  A knock on the door makes you flinch, but still you lay as silently as possible, trying to control and calm your breathing. The door knob turns and the door is pushed open ever so slightly. A heavy footstep echoes through your quiet room followed by a closing door.

Glass against glass is heard before being placed by your bedside followed by a weight on the bed and hot breath tickling your ear. “Sleeping at noon? Come on now, Y/N, I’m not an idiot.” Coriolanus’s voice comes out smooth like honey, but cold like the harsh whip of winter air when you first step outside. You turn over, bleary eyed and fake yawning. “What are you doing in my bedroom uninvited?” Your voice is meant to be accusatory and confident but comes out meek and wavering. Coriolanus backs up, his perfectly slicked back hair doesn't falter even when he brushes it back, a smirk that spells nothing but no-good unnerves you. “I’m your fiance, I think we’re past courting formalities, Y/N, plus, I’ve brought you tea.” Smiling Coriolanus gestures to the white porcelain cup. “Thank you, Coriol-” “Call me Corio, please, the formalities and all are far behind us.” You smile, picking up the tea cup and taking a sip out of it to try and fill the awkward silence that weighs heavy in the room. The bitter taste catches you off guard, scowling as you take another sip, trying to gauge what kind of tea it is. “Corio, what is this, it's such a..strange flavor?” Smiling Corio pushes the cup up to your lips again. “It gets better with taste, and old recipe Grand’mam taught me.” Downing it as fast as possible as to not offend his Grna’mam’s tea you feel yourself get light headed as the world gets blurry. “Corio, what is this..” You trail off, your words are slurred and speaking feels like a chore. Your senses are so numbed that you don’t think twice when Corio gently pushes you back against the feather pillows. “Don’t you think it’s funny that we are engaged and haven't so much as kissed yet?”

 Even through your haze you can see the way the blonde is looking at you. His eyes are hungry, like a predator eyeing up its prey. “I’ve been thinking about you like this for a long time, Y/N, by my side, taming you and your defiance.” Coriolanus slips off his shoes and begins unbuttoning his shirt as he climbs on top of you. “I’ve been eyeing you up for awhile, Y/N, before the arrangements, at the academy, the way you look in your uniform, the way you think outside of the box..” Slowly he begins shedding his shirt, his hands snaking their way up your thigh, hiking up your skirt. “And I see the way the other men in the capital look at you, young, beautiful, rich, pure as snow…you’re a very desirable girl.” He’s made his way to the top of your skirt, slowly pulling it down, leaving you in your top and lacey panties. Now shirtless, Coriolanus begins working at undoing his own pants, leaving him in nothing but boxers on top of you. You try moving your legs but they give up after a few tries. It takes all of your energy to fight to stay awake,your heads not spinning anymore, but even if you could move, Coriolanus would easily overpower you. “S-stop.” You muster out weakly, trying and failing to push him off you, your weak arms are pinned to your side quickly by his own. “I don’t like the thought of another man but your husband taking you, and I intend to fulfill my role as your husband before you retaliate.”

Using one hand, Coriolanus unbuttons your shirt, button by button you feel your cheeks heat up and a growing arousal in your panties throws you off. You had never been touched like this by anyone other than your own hands in the dead of night before. Coriolanus swears under his breath as he exposes the rest of you, eyes wandering back down to your panties. “I’ve known about you far longer than you have of me, Y/N. I’m ready to have a loving marriage w​​ith you, but you just need to accept me.” He trails off as he unclasps your bra, rambling more about how he couldn’t wait and all the long dinners with you were driving him mad. Now fully exposed and more out of it than ever you feel his hands cup your breast. His erection pressing hard against your stomach as he leans down for a desperate kiss. He’s rough, trying to take in as much of you as possible.. Panting, his hot breaths send shivers down your spine, you feel your own wetness as you feebly rub your thighs together, weakly and with as much force as you can you push on his shoulders so he is sitting up straddling you. You tell yourself it’s to get him off of you, but in reality if so he’ll give attention to the rest of your body and not just your now abused lips. Coriolanus has the eyes of a madman as he quickly sheds his boxers and pulls down your panties. Using his thumb to tease your clit, you jolt slightly. Feeling foreign hands on you was a strange yet pleasurable experience. “Corio..” your soft moan of his name made him all the more possessive of you. He wanted to only ever hear you say his name in such a way, and he wanted to hear more of it. Taking out his hard cock, he lined it up with your entrance.  Coriolanus leaned back down, kissing you much more softly as he pushed into your virgin cunt. You moan into the kiss as you feel his cock pushing into you. “God, you’re so tight, you were made for me.” He moaned, head spinning Coriolanus wasn’t sure when, but he was holding your hips down as he fucked you, the way your breast bounced and your hair fell in your face as you moaned his name in breathy gasps made his head spin. “Corio-ah, fuck, Coriolanus..” Your meek voice just made him want to fuck you harder, to draw out more symphonies of his name, to make it known to not just you, but the world that you were Y/N Snow, and nobody except him could take you this way.  In between moaning your assailant's name and begging for more, you had a few moments of clarity, where you knew this was wrong but your body betrayed you. Moving on instinct you lift your legs towards your chest, begging to take the blondes’ cock deeper into you. In Coriolanus’s mind, you were begging for him to make you his, for him to not just claim you in name, but claim a life, a life that both of you created. Slamming your hips against his own Corio could feel himself coming undone, letting out breathy moans of your name you felt his hot cum spilling inside of you, begging for your own release which soon followed. Coriolanus fell on top of you, feebly keeping himself stable above you before rolling over to look at you. Rosy cheeks and a thin sheen of sweat cover you as your hair curls and frames your face in an almost angelic way. You were exhausted, trying to think but coming up blank, the drug affect starting to weigh on you, you allow yourself to block out the blonde lying next to you and let your heavy eyes close, drifting off to an inviting deep sleep while Corio stares at you, content with himself and that you’ll never be able to leave him now, especially with the child he and you would have, tying you to him forever.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #the hunger games #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #smut

[fastlikealambo]

Connubium.|| Coriolanus Snow x Black Fem Reader

Chapter Five

table of contents.

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Summary: Stealing from The Capitol is a deadly offense, yet you’ve done it more times than you can count but when you do something you should not have done, Volumnia Gaul decides a fate for you that might just be worse than death.

Notes: This takes place post The Ballad of Songbirds And Snakes and Coryo is in his last year at The University, studying under Dr. Gaul. This will not follow canon, I’m not an expert on all the lore so I apologize if I get things wrong.

Disclaimer: You know Coriolanus is a POS, I know Coriolanus is a POS, please don’t yell at me because this is just a fun little story, something for thee hotties, and  if you feel that strongly against President Snow, please let me know if you’d like me to sign you up for tessarae.

Warnings: violence against reader, gore, blood, injuries, bones being put back in place.

18+ only

Thanks for the love and messages on chapter four! If you want to see chapter six, comment or reblog, feedback makes me want to continue!

As you slept, Coriolanus studied you.

Tucking a stray curl underneath the silk on your hair, he studied your face.  The stressed expression you had concerned him, he fought the urge to smooth the knitted space between your brows.

He could do this every night.

Courtships were quick affairs in The Capitol, arranged and wed within weeks, hours even, depending on the wealth of each party and what could be gained.

A wealthy orphan such as yourself worked in Coryo’s favor, no parents to impress, no dowries, just you and your ability to control a room.

Coriolanus had plans for Panem and he needed someone at his side who could stand with him, without fear.

President Ravinstill represented the victory of war, old and bloated, a reminder of the dark days.

You would be the face of his Panem, bright and beautiful.

Yes, you would do just fine.

The smell of smoke interrupted Coryo’s study and he untangled himself from you to go to the window, throwing open the curtains.

 The sun had yet to come up but a fire in a visible quarter of The Capitol raged, illuminating the sky and from the Plinth’s window he could see multiple hovercrafts carrying water to douse the flames.

    “Coryo?”

You stood next to him, watching the fiery scene and he took your hand in his, rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

A knock on the door brought you both from the window and you opened it to see Mrs. Plinth, a worried expression on her face.

   “There’s been a bombing, it’s all over the news. Peacekeepers want everyone in their own homes within the hour. I’ll get you some food to take home, dears.” She said kindly.

Too quickly you were standing outside, Coryo’s suit jacket draped around your shoulders, waiting for your car.

       “ I was going to ask you to lunch with Tigris and Grandma’am but I think we’ll have to reschedule.” Coryo said.

     “You’ll just have to make it up to me, Coriolanus Snow. If waltzing and a bombing are typical society affairs, I’m eager to see what happens the next time we’re together.”

With a kiss upon your hand, Coriolanus helped you into the car, noticing it was driven by a peacekeeper.

Peacekeepers weren’t usually drivers.

  “Excuse me, if I’m going to meet Dr. Gaul, I’d like to change first.” You said, wanting very much to get out of a dress you’d been in for far too long but the peacekeeper kept driving right past your residence.

   “Where are we going?” You asked but as usual, you were ignored and the car continued past The Corso,eventually coming to a stop outside a familiar looking building.

Even in the dark, you knew where you were and a fear you hadn’t had in years greeted you like an old friend.

The Arena.

A peacekeeper opened the door and three more took hold of you, yanking you of the car. Your claims that you could walk just fine went unheard as they dragged you with purpose into the massive yet crumbling amphitheater.

Nothing could quite prepare you for the scope of it, having only seen it back home on a  tv that turned off and on during the games if you didn’t kick it three times. You couldn’t remember the last time it was used but there you were, taking in the sights while they shoved you through the turnstile.

  “Enjoy the show!” A broken down robotic voice said.

    “My little thief, right on time! Don’t you look pretty?” Dr. Gaul said, pointing to a spot for the peacekeepers to throw you down.

    “What is this, why am I here?” You asked, standing to your feet, looking around at the empty structure.

    “As you well aware, there was an attack on The Capitol this morning, a poorly constructed bomb killed two Capitol citizens. Imagine my surprise when we caught the animal behind this, I found out he’s from your district!”

    “Dr. Gaul, I’m not behind this, you have my parents, I’m already risking everything-

    “Oh no young lady, we know you weren’t behind this, we just need you to clean up a mess for the glory of Panem.”

A familiar voice and the sound of marching feet echoed throughout the arena and out of the shadows strolled President Ravinstill and his guards.

Of course, they would be working together.

  “I believe you’ve already met President Ravinstill so no need for introductions. Gentlemen, if you please!” Dr. Gaul called out and from another corner came muffled screaming.

Two peacekeepers dragged a badly beaten man in front of you, one eye swollen shut, the other widening in recognition.

District 6 was big, but you knew him,  he worked on delivery trains.

 You used to see his children chase after the hefty freighter, waving to him on his route.

  “If you’d be so kind, dear girl.” President Ravinstill said, placing a handgun into your shaking hand.

No, please, no.

   “I don’t want to do this, I don’t need to do this, you have guns, you do it.” You stuttered.

  “Just pretend he’s a morphling, that worked the last time, didn’t it?” Dr. Gaul asked. President Ravinstill walked up behind you and wrenched your hands into position, the gun on the man’s forehead but you dropped the gun, a missed shot ringing in the air.

  “I have a better idea. Let him up, gentlemen.”  Dr. Gaul said and clapped her hands. 

   “Enjoy the show!”

Peacekeepers filed into the arena, blocking off the exits and breaks in the concrete where the floor and tunnels caved in, forming a circle around the perimeter.

A peacekeeper unlocked the cuffed man and heaved him to his feet in front of Dr. Gaul who pointed a gloved hand in your direction.

 “You see her? We’ll pin all of your mess on her and you’ll get to see your family again.  All you have to do is kill her and everything is forgiven. ” Dr. Gaul whispered into his ear. 

Surely he couldn’t actually believe that?

 He took a step in Gaul’s direction and for a moment you believed the rebel in him saw through the lies and he’d take out Dr. Gaul and President together.

Was this the moment a rebellion was born?

But then you saw it, a shine in his uninjured eye, that told you this was just a man who wanted to go home.

    “Young lady, I suggest you run.” President Ravinstill instructed.

If he couldn’t catch, he couldn’t kill you.

So you ran.

Shoes off, you ran with him on your heels, climbing up a piece of debris towards what was left of the stands, dress and skin ripping as you climbed this way and that, trying to tire him out.  He stumbled but kept up the pace and you brought your bleeding hands to a corner to get further up but a warning shot made you freeze, unable to climb any higher.

That split second of indecision worked in his favor and the man grabbed your still tender ankle and brought you back down to the same level as him.

His hands were around your throat, slamming you back on the concrete before you had a chance to get back up, kicking wildly and scratching deep into his arms, the world around you starting to blur.

You weren’t a fighter, that morphling was drugged out of his mind, you couldn’t steal your way out of this.

Would they let your parents go now?

What would they tell Coriolanus?

What was the point of any of this?

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a broken arrow, probably left over from the games, and as he pressed harder, anguish grunting escaping his bloody mouth, you let yourself go limp beneath him.

He would go no further.

The moment he loosened his grip ever so slightly in victory, you drove your thumb through his bad eye and as he tried everything, slammed you into everything but you wouldn’t let go until the last minute, letting him shove you into a pile of rocks, something in your shoulder popped, causing you to scream.

When he came at you one last time, you drove that arrow into his throat, watching him sink to the ground, jerking and gasping until President Ravinstill took a gun from a peacekeeper, aimed it at the man from District 6, the husband and father, one shot to make him lie still.

It wasn’t fair.

    “Well done little thief, you would have made a fantastic tribute! Allow me.” Dr. Gaul gave no warning before she popped your shoulder back into place.

     “It’s quite remarkable, all that Capitol finery, and you still reverted back to your most natural form.” President Ravinstill marveled, looking your bloody and bruised body up and down.

You were going to be sick.

   “Do you see why I chose you now? You will do anything to survive, the ugly brutal things Capitol citizens don’t like to think about except on that very special time every year, and that’s what Panem needs alongside Coriolanus. Beauty is one thing, but brutality is what keeps the mice at bay.” Dr. Gaul said and clapped her hands once more, the peacekeepers moved from the exit.

    “Go to him, little thief. Go to him and remember the only standing between becoming Mrs. Snow or ending up like your district friend here is your cooperation.” Gaul said and without another word you turned and stumbled out of the arena.

   “See you Monday, young lady!” President Ravinstill called out.

You wandered through the streets of the Capitol for hours till you found yourself in front of Coryo’s apartment and more or less crawled up the stairs.

Before you could lift your hand to knock, the door flew open and Coriolanus enveloped you in his arms, your unrehearsed sobs stifled into his chest.

“Who did this to you?” He asked voice colder than you've ever experienced, touching you all over, cataloging each and every bruise and blood stain.  At the noise, Tigris peeked her head out of her room only to come racing out fully when she saw you.

As you collapsed into their embrace, you had one thought in your head.

Dr. Gaul and President Ravinstill were very much like mice.

To get rid of mice, you would need a snake.

That’s Chapter 5! As usual if you’d like to see Chapter 6, please comment or reblog! Thank you for reading :)

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #Coriolanus snow x black!reader #coriolanus snow x you

[hadesrise]

beware of the nicest guy.

summary ➳ even the nicest guy turns violent when provoked. patience isn’t forever.

pairings ➳ sweet pea x male reader

warnings ➳ fluff, violence, reggie being an asshole, foul language, homophobia, homophobic slur, mentions of being ganged up, broken bones, blood, no use of (y/n)

author’s note ➳ i’ve always done this trope, haven’t i? 😔 previously written on closedmadness, edited. that one will be deleted.

Northsiders refusing to welcome Southsiders isn’t an unfamiliar matter in the northside of Riverdale. Nearly everyone was the same; prejudice littered across the town with judgmental stares and narrow-mindedness that serves as immaturity, their lack of human decency evident with the way they’d rather spread hatred and negativity than actually get to know the Southsiders.

It’s gotten a lot boring, if the Southside Serpents were being honest.

Being constantly picked on by Reggie Mantle and the Bulldogs while the others watched, it was getting too old and unamusing for the gang. There’s nothing new to the way Reggie spits insults after insults that doesn’t even offend them in the slightest, the lack of creativity just making him seem like an unloved child. His mouth continuously moved despite the Serpents displaying a bored look on their faces, his superiority complex getting the best of him and causing him to be blind to his surroundings.

It was supposed to be the same; get picked on, everyone ignores, the Bulldogs get tired and leave, just like that. However, a new unfamiliar presence disrupted the routine that everyone seemingly fell into.

Adorned in an indie outfit of white button down, brown vest and khaki trousers that’s almost out of place in Riverdale High from its simplicity, you hurriedly walked towards the commotion and separated the Bulldogs from the Serpents by shoving Reggie back. The jock stumbled back from the force before glaring at you, who didn’t hesitate to stand tall in front of the Southsiders without much thought.

The Serpents who were in front, Sweet Pea, Toni and Fangs seemed taken aback by your protective stance, how you stood as if you were shielding them from the stupid jocks. They stared at the back of your head as you stared at Reggie, deeply unimpressed.

“Won’t there be a day where I don’t hear you making a fuss?” You asked rhetorically, sighing and adjusting the files you were holding in one arm. “It’s about time you grow up and act like your age, Mantle.”

Reggie sarcastically smiled, ignoring your remarks. “If it isn’t the nicest guy in Riverdale.” He tilted his head, “You would get nothing out of defending these fuckers, Mr. President. It’s only pointless, so get out of my way.”

“Picking on them is also pointless, what are you exactly trying to prove?” You retort, raising one of your eyebrows and shoving your empty hand in the pocket of your trousers. “This childish and immature actions must be definitely coming from being spoiled like a brat by your parents, but I assure you, you look nothing like but a pathetic attention-seeking bitch for going after people that couldn’t even give a single penny to care about you.”

A snicker erupts from behind you, undoubtedly from a couple of the Serpents, as Reggie clenched his jaw and stepped forward with a harsh glare.

“The fuck did you just say?”

“I’m sure you’re not deaf.” You fiercely met his eyes, unbothered by how he looks like he could punch you any moment. “I’m also sure what I said was true, but you’ll only prove me right if you attack me right now.” Your eyes cunningly glinted under the school lights.

Reggie grits his teeth, glares at the Serpents for a few moments before turning around to walk away, his teammates following behind.

A deep sigh escapes your lips as soon as he was out of sight, pinching the bridge of your nose under your round spectacles and turning around in your place to see the Serpents still standing there, observing you. They all plastered a curiosity on their faces since you were a new sight to them, someone who had never caught their eyes before. It’s also intriguing how you seem much more… nonchalant and mature than the other students, your atmosphere holding calmness that’s rare to find in people they’ve encountered.

“I apologize on their behalf. I know you could’ve handled it by yourselves, but settling things down is my job around here.” You formed an apologetic smile, which surprised them, along with the friendliness in your tone. No one had ever talked or looked at them like that. It was strange to interact with someone who had no malice or negativity in the atmosphere.

“Don’t be sorry!” Toni grinned, holding her hand out. “I’m Toni. These are Fangs and Sweet Pea.”

You shook her hand and introduced yourself before looking at the two guys on both of her sides, Sweet Pea’s eyes lingering on you causing you to flash him a shy smile and look back at Toni, gesturing to her pink hair. “I really like your hair, it’s pretty.”

“Thanks,” She happily fluffed her hair with her hands.

“This is probably your first time seeing me here, I’m actually the school president although Cheryl likes to act more like it.” You explained with a chuckle.

Sweet Pea raised his brows, “How come you’re not around?”

“I’ve been doing charity work for my family’s business,” You shrugged. “Teaching kids basic lessons, serving foods and drinks to people in need, visiting nursing homes, taking care of people with disability, something like that. My family’s business provide help to all community that needs a helping hand.”

Your explanation left them impressed as their eyes fell on the files in your arm, some posters and documents sticking out from it. There were also sticky notes and note tabs that shows your effort to the project, which revealed your genuineness to help people. Perhaps, Reggie Mantle was really telling the truth when he said you’re the nicest guy in Riverdale. The way you smiled was genuine and warm, as if it came from the bottom of your heart, looking at them with nothing but kindness and friendliness behind your bright eyes that sparkles in excitement.

Toni found you adorable, your softness coming off as unexpected from your sophisticated attitude. Fangs found you cool, your lack of hesitation in calling out other’s bullshit even when people were just muttering among themselves making him laugh and want to befriend you more.

Sweet Pea, on the other hand, found you endearing. You were like a bright soul that got lost in a jungle full of animals, the only sane and more human person in this town. Your soothing laugh tugs at the strings on his heart as warmth spreads across his chest, an unfamiliar feeling building up in his stomach. He admires the way you push your glasses up with one finger when it slides down, the way you furrow your brows when concentrating, the way your fingers flip the page of the files you’ve made by yourself.

You had enthusiastically joined them in class when you found out they shared the same one as you, choosing to sit near them so you’ll be able to have hushed conversations while the teacher discussed some nonsense.

Everyday, you would spend time with them despite the amount of students wanting to converse with you, becoming some sort of an unofficial member of their little circle as you share them some accomplishments you’ve achieved. Getting taught by you in their studies proved to be so much effective than listening to boring professors when Sweet Pea discovered he actually excelled at mathematics while Toni at history and Fangs at science, with Jughead not being surprised at the outcome. He did expect it since you were one of the most excellent students.

The four of them occupied the seats on the corner of the classroom, Jughead and Toni on the last row with Sweet Pea and Fangs on the front, unbothered by the subtle looks being thrown their way as you sat in front of them concentrated on a paper. You were seemingly working on another project for your family business.

Sweet Pea couldn’t help but stare at you, admiring how your structured features shift each time you come up with ideas. He wanted to ask you on something about the paperwork he was doing, but admiring you first seemed ideal in his head.

Feeling someone drill a hole on the side of your face, you turned to meet Sweet Pea’s eyes and your features softened, a warm smile spreading across your lips. He made sure to engrave it in his eyes.

“What’s up, Pea? You’re staring.” You chuckled, sounding like a soothing melody in Sweet Pea’s ears as his face also softens.

“I kinda need help with this,” He says, voice uncharacteristically quiet and warm, scooting closer to show you his notebook. “You okay with me bothering you for a bit?”

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind.” You shrugged and settled your pen on top of the desk, fully facing him to start explaining where he didn’t understand. Sweet Pea kept nodding each time you explained, his gaze never leaving your face yet still understanding everything you say, a subtle almost peaceful smile across his lips.

Both of you had failed to notice the three of your friends burning holes into the two of you.

“Are they…?” Jughead trailed off, pointing at you.

Both Toni and Fangs shook their heads, “Not yet, unfortunately.” They replied in sync before Fangs adds, “Though I think it’s a matter of time before Sweets make a move.”

“Bet,” Jughead smirks.

They weren’t wrong.

The Serpents and the Corefour with Kevin and Cheryl gathered in the cafeteria, unbothered by looks shot by Northsiders as they conversed among one another, light meals in front of each of them with the exception of Sweet Pea who was restlessly drumming on the table with his hands. He keeps looking back at the entrance, as if he expects someone to barge in any moment.

Toni and Fangs exchanged a glance with smirks before Jughead nudged Sweet Pea lightly to catch his attention. “Where’s your lunch?”

“Didn’t get any,” The tall serpent shrugged, but failing to hide his excitement despite his attempt.

“Right, ‘cause your boyfriend’s making you one.” Toni snickers, wiggling her eyebrows teasingly. Sweet Pea scoffed and rolled his eyes, but couldn’t resist the smile spreading across his lips.

The cafeteria doors opened as you finally enter with a lunch box and box of cupcakes in both hands, your eyes scanning across the room before falling on your boyfriend. A smile easily crossing Sweet Pea’s face when you waved enthusiastically and started rushing towards their table.

He immediately pulls you to sit on his lap and you peck him on the lips as a greeting, making your friends let out awes. You giggled after pulling away, making him smile. “What’s up, baby?”

“I made a lunch for you,” You showed him the round metallic lunch box with an excited grin. “It’s really not much, but I’m confident with my cooking skills so I promise it’s not poisonous. I also baked cupcakes!” Placing the lunch box in front of Sweet Pea on the table, you set the box of cupcakes down in the middle to ensure it wasn’t just for your lover.

Sweet Pea’s eyes sparkled in joy, his atmosphere radiating happiness that the Serpents had almost never seen him with. His anger issues tend to be the most noticeable trait of him, but ever since he got with you, they feel like it calmed down a bit. He kisses you on the cheek as a sign of gratitude before opening the lunch box and coming across his favourite foods, making his smile widen if that was possible. It made you smile softly, ruffling the back of his hair.

“Aww, aren’t there any for us?” Fangs asked, his arm thrown around Kevin’s shoulders.

“I want some too,” Toni whines beside Cheryl, attempting to reach her hand into the lunch box but being swatted lightly by Sweet Pea with a glare.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

You laughed at their interaction and gestured to the thick and big box of cupcakes, “I couldn’t make lunch so I over-baked some cupcakes. Sorry pals, maybe next time.”

Everyone letting out cheers and noises of excitement, Cheryl stands up to open the big package and distribute each, the delicious sweet scent of baked goods making them sniff it. Awing at the sight of different flavoured cupcakes, Fangs couldn’t help but take a bite of his chocolate flavoured one, letting out satisfied noises before holding it out for Kevin to have a taste.

You also picked a banana flavoured cupcake for yourself after observing their reactions, pleased at the satisfaction and pleasant surprise coating their faces. Having a mother who opened her own bakery by your house had its perks; you were able to learn how to bake and cook many things through helping her, making it your new hobby. It also helped greatly in terms of charity work — you can share foods to people who aren’t financially capable and give them the opportunity to taste what they’ve never tasted before. Your father became even more proud that you’ve found more ways than one to help the people in need.

“This is so fucking good,” Sweet Pea remarks while munching on the lunch you gave him, oblivious to the loving gaze you had on him.

Everyone watches with soft smiles on their faces, how equally in love with each other you looked despite the obvious differences between your upbringing.

It came as a shock to everyone — except the Serpents — when the news spread that the nicest guy in Riverdale and the rage filled Serpent were dating. Some people placed a bet on how long it will last, some people showed their prejudice and disappointment, some people genuinely didn’t care.

Offhanded commentators were quickly shut off when the two of you displayed affection and love towards each other and ignored them entirely. No one could even tell you in person how much you let them down for associating with the worst one of Serpents because you always acted ignorant with too much happiness. If someone were to tell you that it was a terrible choice to date Sweet Pea, they were met with your passive-aggressive remarks on questionable choices they’ve made in the past that you somehow knew about. It got terrifying, to say the least.

The difference in your upbringing, status, or anything else didn’t matter at all. Neither of you judged each other for what you are.

Sweet Pea never questioned your unconditional kindness despite feeling upset when you let assholes slide, instead choosing to get angry at them for your sake. You never questioned his status as a gang member despite the several unpleasant rumours about Southside Serpents, instead choosing to learn what he does in their daily life and educate yourself.

The two of you fit together perfectly like a puzzle, as if you were each other’s missing piece. Arguments happen sometimes, but it’s quickly finished before the next day.

Really funny how the most healthy and non-toxic relationship in all of Riverdale is between a young Serpent and a young Humanitarian.

Unsurprisingly, the Serpents were quick to treat you as their own even before Sweet Pea had begun dating you. Your lack of judgment made every single one of them comfortable in your presence, often greeting you wherever you go and even helping you out when you need an extra hand, unafraid to be themselves knowing you wouldn’t think low of them. Your boyfriend’s friends were the most happiest at how their gang was being treated by you; all of them had nearly forgotten what it’s like to be seen as normal.

However, one question always remained in the back of their heads.

Could you get violent if pushed hard enough?

You never were.

There’s always an angelic halo floating above your head no matter where you go and no matter how aggressive your mouth gets. Sure, you spit out impressive insults sometimes when you get truly irritated by some idiotic behaviour, but that never really changed anyone’s perspective that you couldn’t hurt a fucking fly.

You were still soft, still kind. It’s impossible to even think about you having violent outbursts, it just seems too uncharacteristic of you.

Sweet Pea was always the one to throw fists when someone insults you knowing you’d never defend yourself. He’s the hot-headed while you were the cool-headed. It’s always been like that, and everyone refused to believe otherwise. After all, how can a Humanitarian go against what they usually do — helping people?

The obnoxious sound of Bulldogs’ laughter causes your smile to vanish in an instant as they approach with Reggie in front, leading them like a pack of filthy dogs as usual. Your friends stopped as well, each displaying a look of annoyance.

“What a bunch of losers sharing lil’ cupcakes,” Reggie mocks, earning snickers from his teammates.

Veronica rolled her eyes at their childishness, “Oh my god, just leave.”

“Shut up, bitch.” Reggie spat and Veronica was quick to hold her boyfriend Archie back, shaking her head to tell him it isn’t worth it. The Bulldogs laughed when the ginger sat back down, cockiness evident on their body language.

You caught Reggie eyeing the remaining cupcakes that were left on the box and quickly pulled it away before he could even reach a hand out, not noticing the way Sweet Pea was quieter than usual despite his nemesis’ arrival. “This isn’t yours, kid. Don’t even try taking one.” You sternly scolded, moving off of Sweet Pea’s lap to sit beside him closer to Reggie.

“Don’t fucking call me kid, I ain’t one.” The jock hissed, sharply glaring at you.

“Then quit acting like one.” You retort without missing a beat.

Letting out a scoff, Reggie’s lips twist up in a sneer. “At least I’m not acting like a pathetic little fag hanging out with other fags.”

“Reginald!” Cheryl shouts with disbelief, standing up abruptly at the same time Sweet Pea slammed his fist on the table while shooting Reggie a death glare. You quickly hold his bicep to calm him down, not wanting him to get in trouble. Everyone held unpleasant looks towards the nasty slur he just uttered, disgusted by his nerve.

“Fucking asshole,” Toni spat distastefully.

The Bulldogs laughed her off to themselves like a bunch of hyenas before Reggie’s gaze fell on Sweet Pea that didn’t seem to let his fist talk this time, a knowing smirk crossing his face. “What’s up, bro? You’re too quiet, we hit you too hard last time or something?”

You scowled and looked back at your boyfriend to see him glaring threateningly at Reggie, as if he was avoiding your gaze. “What is he talking about, Pea?” You question with a stern tone, then repeated it to the jock when he doesn’t answer, “What are you talking about?”

Reggie raised his brows, “You know nothing?”

“What are you talking about, Mantle.” You emphasised through gritted teeth.

Seeming amused by your slight impatience, Reggie tilts his head and mockingly chuckles under his breath. “Your little boyfriend here seems like he doesn’t know his place, so we taught him a lesson is all. You should put a tight leash on your dog if you don’t want dudes to jump him.”

Disbelief and anger morphed on your face, about to stand up from your seat to confront him more, only to feel Sweet Pea’s arm wrap around your torso to keep you in place. “Baby, don’t.” He whispered.

“What the hell, Reggie?” Betty gives him an incredulous look.

“Unfortunate that he didn’t fight back. Would’ve long been kicked out and thrown in jail if he did.” Reggie snickered along with his teammates before walking away, flipping the box of cupcakes in the process.

You glared after them with a clenched jaw and turned to Sweet Pea, your bright eyes piercing right through him that forced him to make eye contact with you despite his urge to avoid it. “Where are you hurt?” Your tone soft yet an edge to it, a suppressed anger only noticeable by Sweet Pea.

“I’m fine,” He tries to reassure you, turning to continue with his lunch.

“No, he said they jumped you.” You shake your head sternly and grabbed his shoulder to forcefully turn his body back, freezing when he yelped in pain and flinched. Sweet Pea swallowed, cursing himself internally for proving you right on accident, and looked up at you slowly. Your face was unreadable, which brought more nervousness on him.

Everyone watched as Sweet Pea sighs defeatedly and pull down his shirt to reveal the large bruises on his collarbone, your eyes widening and getting closer to inspect if it was shattered. Luckily it didn’t seem so, but your guts told you this wasn’t the only injury he got. Glancing up at Sweet Pea, you pulled up his shirt as gently as possible. Your breath hitched; a large, purple and yellow bruises littering his ribs and stomach.

“Motherfucker,” Fangs cursed in anger as rage filled him, Toni, and Jughead— however, before anyone could react, a chair loudly slammed against the floor from the sheer force of someone abruptly standing up.

A figure was sprinting towards Reggie in a flash, forcefully turning him around by the jacket before a strong fist collided with his face and he was tackled down to the floor. Gasps erupted all over the place as everyone in the cafeteria stood up in shock upon realising it was you, fearfulness appearing on their faces when you began punching him repeatedly without remorse.

Trapping Reggie under your body, you pulled him by his jacket only to punch him square on the jaw and slam his head on the concrete floor, pained noises leaving his mouth as he attempted to protect his head and face. Two Bulldogs scrambling closer to help Reggie while one of the others rushed off to call the Principal, you grabbed the arm of the guy who tried pulling you off of their leader and twisted it before kneeing his gut, making him fall to the floor on his knees. You used it as your opportunity to pull his arm to his back and dislocate him, a scream erupting from his mouth. The other guy swings his fist in your direction, which you dodged and kicked him towards a table, quickly grabbing his head to repeatedly slam his face on the hard surface.

Speechless was an understatement to describe what they felt witnessing the horrors of your rage with some trembling, some covering their eyes, and some unable to look away.

All you saw was red.

There’s nothing in your mind but to hurt the people that hurt the love of your life, dark and bloodthirsty eyes glinting dangerously as you look at Reggie’s bloodied state again. Blood pooled beneath his head as he coughed from the pain on his abdomen and head.

No one could recognise you — the gentle and soft atmosphere you usually surrounded yourself with being replaced by cold and lethal one. Rage is supposed to be foreign for someone as nice as you, but seemed fitting in this moment, as if you’ve been building it up within yourself until it exploded. The only ever push you needed was Sweet Pea being hurt to take everything out.

You were about to walk up to Reggie again before the sound of Sweet Pea’s voice calling your name reached you through the blood boiling in your head, and you stopped. Principal Weatherbee hurriedly rushed to the commotion, a look of terror spreading across his face after seeing you standing over Reggie’s beaten up state.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Weatherbee shouts, kneeling beside Reggie, who had passed out from the pain and shock.

Sweet Pea was the only one brave and courageous enough to approach you without hesitation, calling your name first to catch your attention as he gently pulled you by your forearm. “Stop, baby. That’s enough,” He whispered.

You stared Weatherbee down with calm rage and coldness that made fear dance across his face. “You teach your students to fight square and fair if they don’t want any more worse than this,” You muttered loud enough for him to hear, voice emotionless and non-remorseful.

Shifting your glare to the remaining Bulldogs that were frozen in their spot, they flinched when you stepped forward. “Gang up on my boyfriend again and I’ll fucking kill every single one of you,” You threatened with a murderous tone which told the graveness of it, making them nod their heads vigorously and care for their leader.

Weatherbee instructed them to bring Reggie and the two injured Bulldogs to the infirmary, then looked back at you with disbelief still on his expression. “Do you know what you have done? You could get expelled.”

“You think I care?” You challenged him, tilting your head. “They should’ve been expelled for what they did to Sweet Pea, but it wouldn’t matter because he’s a Southside Serpent, right? So I did exactly what they did to make them feel what it’s like, except it was just me alone. It’s a fair fight, Mr. Weatherbee. I don’t think I should be punished for making things equal between us.” You smiled, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly before rolling your eyes and walking away with Sweet Pea’s hand in yours.

Sweet Pea pulled you down to sit with him and began inspecting your bloody, busted knuckles. You look up to see not only your friends but everyone else staring, causing you to scowl. “What?” You snarled and they all looked away in fear.

Sweet Pea shushes you with a look as you returned your gaze on him, flashing him an innocent smile. Rolling his eyes with a shake of his head, he takes out a midnight blue handkerchief from his jacket pocket to gently wipe off the blood from your knuckles. “You’re lucky you didn’t break any bones on your fist.”

You chuckled, “Babe, I literally learn martial arts. And they were the ones who got their bones broken.”

“Still, shouldn’t have done that.” He replied. “Let’s go to the infirmary, you need this disinfected.”

“If you want me to actually end up killing Reginald Mantle, then I’m down.” You smirked, earning a disapproving look from him.

Sweet Pea takes your glasses that you had removed before the fight with the Bulldogs and gently places it on the bridge of your nose, adjusting it so you’ll be able to see properly. “Babe, I really don’t think you should. I love you for it, I’ll fucking watch you beat the shit out of him over again, but it wouldn’t be good news for your family business if rumours spread you have violent tendencies.” He gave you a pointed look.

You scrunched your nose, “Only when someone messes with my Sweet Pea.”

“Being violent’s my job, baby.” He chuckles.

“Not really,” You pushed up your glasses with the tip of your middle finger before leaning on the table on your elbow. “Being constantly nice isn’t my job, sweetheart. I can’t really show humanity to someone who hurts you, and I promise this wouldn’t be the last time you’ll see me take revenge for you.”

Sweet Pea sighed.

He doesn’t want your reputation to be tainted; being the bad guy is not unfamiliar for him and he was going to keep it that way if it meant nobody thought of you negatively. You’ve worked hard to build trust among the community and proved yourself a kind and helping soul, Sweet Pea didn’t want people’s perspective of you to change. But it’s actually true how people misunderstood you; all you have is basic human decency, something which some people lack, you weren’t the divine only-do-good they perceived you to be.

You’re still human despite being more helpful and nice than average, so you obviously have imperfections — that is, not being able to contain your anger when the one you love is unfairly treated. You were intelligent, but sometimes, your fists speak for yourself when assholes tests your patience too many times. Sweet Pea knew that and always tried his best to prevent you from losing your temper, although it couldn’t be helped in this case.

“You were pretty badass there, dude.” Jughead remarks after seeing you’ve calmed down, getting over the initiate shock.

Fangs agreed, “Yeah, it was dope. We didn’t know you could fight.”

“And break bones.” Kevin added, astonished.

“Fucking lit,” Toni chimes in with a box of emergency kit in her hand that she placed on the table. You raised your brows, wondering when she got out the cafeteria to get it, but smiled nonetheless.

“But wait, you said you learn martial arts.” Archie spoke next with curiosity in his expression. “Where do you learn it? Since when?”

You chuckle at their excitement and eagerness, feeling happy for the lack of judgment. Sweet Pea starts tending to your busted knuckles as you reply to the ginger head, “My father’s a professional. He’s been training me and other kids who wants to learn self defence techniques. It’s part of the business.”

“So, you’ve always known how to beat up people but never did it before?” Fangs asked.

“Yeah,” You shrug. “It’s unnecessary to result to violence all the time. No one tested my patience as far as Mantle did, he really deserved that to shut up for once. It’s absolutely effective to people who can’t mind their own damn business.” Grinning almost childishly, the gang chuckles at your new side while Sweet Pea, unamused, presses the cotton ball a little too hard on your injury causing a hiss to erupt from your mouth.

He had a glare in his eyes. “Don’t fucking do that again, you’ll get hurt. You know those scumbags would get back at you.”

Your face softened at the concerned look in his eyes, how the hands that treats you trembled slightly. “Darling,” You softly called and intertwined your fingers with his. “You know I had to. They can’t gang up on you like that, it’s not right. I couldn’t see you hurt and just let it slide.”

Sweet Pea nibbled on his lower lip nervously, still a little upset.

“I know you’re worried about my reputation and all, but I’m your boyfriend, Sweets. You come first before that.” You ruffled his hair affectionately with your uninjured hand and smiled. “I don’t care about what other people think of me, I’m still going to defend you.”

Sweet Pea stared into your sincere eyes before sighing in defeat, looking down at your injured knuckles. “Fine. But promise me you wouldn’t take any hits, I fucking hate seeing you injured.”

You chuckled at the sternness in his voice and saluted jokingly, “Copy that, boss. That can be arranged.” He rolled his eyes with a smile.

Betty raised her brows, “Okay… Has this ever happened before?” Gesturing to you.

“Uh… kind of?” You grimaced, scratching your head, as everyone gave you a questioning look. “I didn’t really beat up anyone at that time, but I might have… punched a hole through the wall.”

They widened their eyes in surprise as Cheryl drops her jaw, “The science classroom!”

You winced and nodded.

Toni laughs with a shake of her head, somehow finding the situation funny. “Who knew the nicest boy had the beast within him?” She jokes. “I’m glad to see this more human side of you. You were always so nice it was almost unsettling.”

Smiling at her, you nodded in acknowledgement. That’s a comment you always heard from people, that you were unnatural for being too kind. You were taught since childhood how to be a decent human being but to never let anyone take advantage of you, so you were just balancing it out — no one ever saw this side of yours before because they weren’t being unreasonable. You only lose your patience when pushed hard enough.

You looked at Sweet Pea to see him already getting back on treating your wound, dabbing the cotton ball gently on the cuts, making you admire his every features. It was adorable how he cared for your reputation. Made you want to make out with him right then and there, but it wasn’t appropriate for a dining place.

Everyone looks at Toni when your attention focused on Sweet Pea, shaking their heads slightly. Not certain if they were glad or scared to learn new things about you that’s been unknown for a long time.

“You don’t have to worry,” Your boyfriend speaks up without averting his gaze. “He’s not easy to piss off unless you push the wrong buttons all at once.”

“Sweet Pea’s the wrong button,” You immediately added with a grin that resembled a Golden Retriever, except it seems actually threatening. “Couldn’t care less about my haters.”

Of course, none of them disagreed to that.

The next day, Reggie walks in with his tail tucked between his legs after seeing you leaned back on your locker with Sweet Pea and the entire gang. Your mouth chewing on a bubblegum, that stupid glasses of yours resting on the bridge of your nose as usual with an outfit that reminds everyone of an elite nerd student.

Bruises and cuts littered around Reggie’s face with a prominent black eye, busted lip and swollen cheek. His steps slow to not add pressure on his injured leg and bruised torso. The students stared at him as if he was something else, probably gossiping among themselves about how he’s the one who caused the nicest boy in Riverdale seem like a completely different person.

He scoffs. You’re not the nicest boy at all.

You can’t hold that title anymore after the incident, but Reggie knew he didn’t have the guts to mock you about it when your presence alone made him cower and feel small.

As he carefully walked through the hallway, your eyes finally catches his figure and darkens almost in an instant, bright expression dropping to a blank look. Your friends were quick to become nervous seeing your almost deadly look, although Sweet Pea found it fun and amusing. Reggie looked at you as he stopped, afraid that if he walked past you’re just going to swing at him.

You cocked your head slightly, eyes burning deep into his soul as you stared at him from head to toe and circled around him like a predator watching its prey. Reggie felt uneasiness cloud his chest. He would’ve never done something like that if he knew the consequences to it.

Bumping on his shoulder that made him hiss in slight pain due to the injury on his shoulder, you returned to your place and sneered. “Where did the big bad dog go? He afraid of the faggot now or somethin’?” You laughed mockingly.

Reggie licked his lips nervously, not meeting your gaze.

You leaned your head down to forcefully look at him in the eye, grinning at the fear there. “All of this is merely a warning, Mantle. You go after my boyfriend like that again and I promise it’ll be much worse.”

Gulping, he nods his head vigorously and scrambles away when you finally decided to let him go.

Sweet Pea snickers under his breath after Reggie’s gone, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “Really cool, baby. He was so fucking scared!” Smirking smugly at his laughter, you wrapped an arm back around his waist securely.

“After what happened, you probably can’t hold the nicest guy reputation anymore.” Archie remarked which causes you to laugh in agreement.

“Yeah. Besides, I don’t even know who gave me that nickname.”

“For a quick information, it was Chuck and he actually did it to mock you but it backfired.” Cheryl stated and everyone hums, finding it makes sense.

You feel a little bit glad for lashing out, knowing not everyone will perceive you as this perfectly nice guy who could do no wrong. Having that kind of expectations are truly heavy on your shoulders when you’re not even half of what they expect. Your kindness isn’t infinity nor unconditional; it wears off like any human beings, you didn’t know why people thought otherwise when it came to you. It’s impossible to keep being nice when some assholes just ganged up on your boyfriend who’s never done anything wrong.

Sweet Pea’s always been precious to you. He’s the love of your life that brightens up your day, a ray of sunshine even though he’s got anger issues and you would do anything to prevent that brightness from wearing off. Now they know not to mess with him if they don’t want to get their asses beaten.

“Hey, Sweets?”

He hummed, turning to you. “Yeah?”

You peck his lips and smile, “I love you.”

Sweet Pea smiled back, pecking your cheek. “Love you too, baby.”

Beware of the nicest guy; no one’s ever allowed to hurt your boyfriend without the consequences of getting your fist on their face.

© ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴅᴇsʀɪsᴇ. sᴛᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ, ᴘʟᴀɢɪᴀʀɪᴢɪɴɢ, ᴏʀ ᴜsɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ғᴏʀ ᴍᴏɴᴇᴛᴀʀʏ ɢᴀɪɴ ɪs sᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ᴘʀᴏʜɪʙɪᴛᴇᴅ. ᴀsᴋ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪɴɢ.

#gay #male reader #x male reader #lgbtq #x reader #imagines #sweet pea x male reader #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea riverdale #riverdale male reader #riverdale #riverdale imagine #riverdale x reader #riverdale x male reader #mlm #male x male #jordan connor x male reader #jordan connor #jordan connor x reader #fluff #hadesrise

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 7)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

“What’d you think? Should we climb it?” Tyson asks his district partner, teasingly.

She is two years his junior, still not an idiot. The giant pile of sand funneling in from the top of the arena is no hiking expedition. “No, we should save our strength, like Haymitch said.”

“Did you know the tallest mountain in the world was called Mount Everest? Before the founding of our great nation?” He presses on, largely ignoring Y/N’s sage advice.

“What do they call it now?” She wonders.

“Trick question; tallest mountain in the world was actually Mauna Kea.”

“Now’s a bad time for trivia.” Y/N decides, a hand at her brow to shield the blazing sun.

“It’s the only time we’ve got.”

Y/N startles awake, as she always does from dreams of him. Dreams of a stranger, who in under two weeks became her best friend. The games are funny that way, time moves differently there. People who standby you in the arena become closer than people you’ve known for years. The ones that haunt you forever.

She thinks of him often. Though Y/N never had a brother, she decided a long time ago, that is where Tyson fit. How he taunted and teased her, protected and loved her, all at the same time. And when she named her son Everest, sealing the tiniest drop of Tyson in her blood, Y/N found some peace with it. Giving new life to the boy who died so that she might live.

When she hears Peeta recounting the day he fell in love with Katniss, her heart sinks. The gamemakers won’t let them both win. They can’t. President Snow simply won’t allow it. And if what they’re saying now is true, even if one of them survives…

“There’s backstory,” Haymitch muses.

Maybe he believes Seneca would do it, two victors. Or maybe he just wants her to believe that he believes. One thing about Haymitch is that he will lie, either straight up or simply omit key details to shield Y/N. Protect her at any cost, as if she were some fragile thing.

She used to hate it, until she understood. Not fragile; precious. Something more valuable than money, or secrets, even booze. If anything happened to Y/N, his world would simply stop turning. The sun would set and never rise. She is a precious commodity of extremely limited supply. She could never be replaced.

“You need medicine for that leg.” Katniss changes the topic of conversation.

“I don’t get many parachutes.” Peeta admits, though he doesn’t tell her why.

“We’ll figure something out.”

“Like what?”

“Something.” Katniss huffs, into the dimly lit cave.

“I think that was the green light on the meds for Peeta.” It’s go time. Haymitch rises from the bench, offering his hand.

This particular offering will not come cheap, it’s time for the original lovers of district twelve to do what they do best. Work an angle.

————————————————————————

“What do you mean we can’t send medicine? We’ve always been able to send medicine.”

“Not my rules, Mrs. Abernathy.” The woman behind the counter says.

“Of course not, you just work here.” Haymitch smiles.

The Capitol employee returns the gesture.

“We’ve been raising this money all day and Y/N is obviously upset that we can’t go through with sending the medicine, but we understand. Is there any information you could give us to help put our minds at ease about the condition of our tribute?”

The woman looks to Y/N now. District twelve tributes rarely make it this far and everyone is quite taken with the young lovers. Against her better judgment, she motions for Y/N to lean down toward her. “There will be an opportunity for your tribute to receive medicine tomorrow.”

“Is there anything we can send today?” Y/N asks.

“You can send soup.”

“Soup.” Haymitch repeats, with false enthusiasm. “We’ll send them soup.”

————————————————————————

“Attention tributes, commencing at dawn, there will be a feast of sorts, at the cornucopia. Each of you need something desperately and we plan to be…generous hosts.”

“And that is why we couldn’t send medicine,” Haymitch laughs, staring down at the contents of his cup.

They’re trying to wrap this up, everyone’s off in different directions. Bring them back together for one hell of a show before curtain fall.

“Five needs food. Thresh just got bread so…maybe weapons? Two needs…armor? I don’t-” Y/N presses a finger against her temple, desperate for answers.

“You feeling ok?” Haymitch’s brow furrows.

“Yes,” Y/N bites out.

Her husband reels back. It is not uncommon for Y/N to mourn tributes, even ones that aren’t theirs. It is unlike her to take it out on him.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” Y/N apologizes, immediately. Taking one of his hands in hers.

Haymitch turns his gaze to their twined fingers, she’s shaking, “when’s the last time you ate something?”

“Not hungry.”

“You need to eat,” he decides.

“Nothing tastes right.”

“Listen angel, if they’re gonna poison you, it won’t be here.”

“I must be coming down with something.” Or the stress. Despite all of this, she’s never faired well under duress.

“Probably why you puked in that lady’s ice bucket.” Haymitch notes.

“You know what does sound halfway decent?”

“Hmm?”

“Those little cream puffs with powdered sugar on top.”

Haymitch grins, “I’ll bring a plate.”

He hovers after that. Y/N can’t stand hovering, but she tolerates it. Understanding that it comes from a place of love. She didn’t mean to worry him.

Haymitch can’t sleep. Even after Y/N is out cold.

“I love you so much, Haymitch.”

She who brushes wayward hair from his eyes and runs her nose along the length of his, after the sweetest of kisses. She who believes in him and shows him each day there is a reason his life did not end in the arena. She is the best person he has ever known and he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to deserve her. To deserve that selfless, all consuming, love that she gives so freely.

“I love you forever.” Maybe even longer.

In that, at least he knows there is no cause for concern. Their marriage will not crumble, come hell or high water. Haymitch knows how badly she misses home, their children. In another life he’d ask for ten, as many as Y/N would give him.

The tiny garden, around the back of their house in victor’s village; where Everest plants carrots and other vegetables. Where Arista steals them to feed the wandering geese. The most taciturn, temperamental, creatures she can find are naturally the ones she chooses to care for.

Y/N’s syringes come like clockwork from the Capitol, every three months. Squandering any hope of tiny baby feet. Though she is the best mother, one who plays with her daughter and son, down in the dirt. A mother who loves her children more than anything.

Their lives there are a safe haven, one that exists only in their minds. There is no room for a place like that here. No safety for the children they’ve given life to. Only false hope and broken promises.

And if by some misfortune or Capitol ‘miracle’ a child should slip through, Haymitch would love them. Somehow, someway they’d all make it through. But he hopes, more than anything, that it is not now.

————————————————————————

There is no rush to the viewing room the next morning, everything the tributes need will be at the cornucopia. Katniss gets close to the bag marked ‘12’ and the girl from two is on her. Knocking her back with those damn knives.

They grapple around for a while, before landing with Clove on top. Leaving Katniss no room for escape as she holds the blade to her throat. Haymitch is seated on the bed, watching Y/N pace along the large screen in their bedroom.

Thankfully the boy from eleven takes out one of the two remaining careers. Overhearing her taunt Katniss and brag about killing his district partner.

“Just this time, twelve.” Thresh tells her, gathering his bag from the table. “For Rue.”

With that they’re off; Thresh back to solitude and Katniss to Peeta.

He’s still asleep when she arrives, waking only to the sound of her voice. “I got it. I got your medicine.”

“What happened to you?” Peeta’s eyes focus on the gash across her forehead, courtesy of Clove.

“I’m fine.” Katniss busies herself with opening the canister.

“No you’re not,” Peeta reaches up, “what happened?”

“The girl from two, she threw a knife.”

“You shouldn’t have gone, you said you weren’t gonna go.”

“You got worse.” She replies, simply. Spreading the salve over the length of his wound.

Peeta allows a small cry to pass his lips, grabbing at her wrist. “You need some of that too.”

“I’m ok.” Katniss is more worried about him.

“That feels so much better.” He sighs. “Now you need some too.”

“I’m ok.”

“No, come on. You need it too.”

“Alright.” Katniss finally agrees. Watching Peeta’s tender expression as he thumbs the cream over her injury.

When they wake to the computer generated sunrise and find their cuts have healed, the star crossed lovers set off in search of food.

Peeta to the left, foraging berries while Katniss goes to hunt. Though the separation is not ideal, his heavy footsteps would send any potential prey running. The archer is ready to score them some breakfast when the cannon sounds.

It’s for the girl from five. But Katniss doesn’t know that, so she sets off in search of Peeta.

This time, Y/N and Haymitch are down in the viewing room, overhearing the chatter around them.

“Those berries must be poisonous.”

“I hope Katniss finds him in time.”

Katniss calls out for Peeta again, colliding into him a moment later as Peeta rushes toward the sound of her voice. His fist still closed around a handful of blue berries.

“What happened? Are you ok?” Peeta wonders, holding her tightly as she trembles.

“I heard the cannon. I thought you were dead.”

The boy rests his chin against her shoulder, “I’m right here.”

Katniss pulls back to scold him, smacking the berries from his hand. “That’s nightlock, Peeta. You’d be dead in a minute!”

“I didn’t know,” he stammers.

“Scared me half to death, damn you.” Then she is hugging him again. She can’t explain it, the need to feel him close, know that he is safe.

“I’m sorry.” Peeta breathes, soothing her with a gentle hand, down the length of her back. “I’m sorry.”

When they have settled enough to keep moving, they make the discovery of the red head’s body. Her mouth stained magenta and a few berries still in hand, eyes wide and open.

“I never even knew she was following me.”

“She’s clever.” Katniss always thought so.

“Too clever.”

Katniss leans down, collecting the berries from her hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Maybe Cato likes berries too.”

It’s only half past noon when the sun sets, quickly and without warning.

“Must be in a hurry to end it.” Katniss reasons.

Y/N’s leg is bouncing faster now, vibrating almost.

Haymitch reaches out a hand, resting it atop her thigh to still it.

They wait there, in uncomfortable silence, until the sound of mutts causes Y/N to jump. Even Haymitch flinches when the animals appear, like something out of a nightmare, bits of the fallen tributes mixed in.

They take Thresh, tearing him to pieces and Y/N doesn’t fight when Haymitch wraps her up in his arms. Making a place for herself in his lap, legs dangling over the side of his, not caring if she is heavy. He of course, doesn’t mind, pressing a kiss to the underside her jaw.

Cato is waiting at the top of the cornucopia. When Peeta and Katniss inevitably end up there, the three of them have it out. With Cato’s arm around Peeta’s neck, Katniss is left with no good choices. If she shoots the career’s hand where Peeta is pointing and she misses… But if she doesn’t shoot, he’ll kill Peeta anyway. She takes a deep breath and lets the arrow fly.

Cato’s death is a quick one, a mercy he may not have shown with roles reversed. But it is over, leaving just the tributes from district twelve. Gone is the shadow of night, the sun returning to illuminate the finale.

“Attention, tributes, attention, there’s been a slight rule change.”

Katniss draws her bow, fearing that they are somehow not alone.

Haymitch shifts, bracing himself.

“The previous revision allowing two victors from the same district has been…revoked. Only one may be crowned. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor.”

Katniss and Peeta turn back to one another.

“Go ahead.” Peeta insists, “one of us should go home. One of us has to die, they have to have their victor.”

“No,” Katniss tosses her weapon down, stepping over it to close the space between them. “They don’t. Why should they?” She pulls the nightlock from her pocket.

“No,” Peeta covers her hand with his own.

“Trust me.” Katniss whispers, “trust me.”

And Peeta does, accepting the berries into his palm.

Haymitch lets out a breath, patting the outside of Y/N’s thigh, affectionately. “You did it.” He murmurs, “there’s your victors.” Even though it isn’t fair, even though there will be nothing to show for it. They won.

Y/N leans farther into his embrace. Wishing more than anything for the chance to tell Peeta that she is proud and to tell Katniss…

“Together?” The boys asks.

“Together,” Katniss repeats.

“Ok. One.” Peeta runs his fingertips down the length of her braid.

“Two.”

“Three.”

Together they raise the poison toward their lips.

“Stop.” A voice rings through the arena, “stop! Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the winners of the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games.”

For this, the four of them will surely be punished.

Part 8

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @officialjellydoughnut @whoreforfictionalpeople @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004

#the hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #haymitch x reader #thg haymitch #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch fanfic #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch x y/n #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen

[writemekpop]

I Kissed the President (Part 3) | Jung Jaehyun

Summary: You're an undercover journalist digging for dirt on billionaire Jung Jaehyun. You'd do anything to get the story. Even fuck him... But what happens when he finds out you're lying?

Genre: Smut, angst, drama

Word Count: 0.9k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 ❤️

Your editor has asked you to interview Jaehyun on live national television.

When you enter the dressing room of the TV show, everyone cheers your name, but it only makes you feel worse. 

Then you’re sitting opposite Jaehyun, the studio lights burning into your face like the midday sun.

Jaehyun is breath-taking in his sombre black coat. But he won’t even look at you. 

“Mr Jung, it true that you illegally solicited a sex worker?” you ask, reading from the script on the teleprompter.

Jaehyun’s eyes are an empty black. “Yes.”

“And is it also true that you are not part of the Jung line – but are an adoptee, a fact your family tried to keep secret?” 

He hesitates. “Yes.” 

You see the next line flash up on the screen: Is it fair to say that to the nation, you are a stranger? 

A wisp of air struggles on your lips, refusing to form words. 

You know that if you don’t do what you’re told, you will lose your job. But you cannot look Jaehyun in the eye and betray him. 

Slowly, you say, “Would you agree that you are not an elite, but the first president who is a ‘man of the people’?” 

Colour rushes to Jaehyun’s cheeks.

You continue, “Thanks to our great country’s welfare system, you rose from abject poverty to become a presidential candidate. Your story is one to inspire all Koreans. And… for that reason, you have just made the decision to increase your party’s welfare spending by over 15%. Is that right?” 

Jaehyun wears your favourite look – astonishment mixed with pleasure. He grins, and says, “You are absolutely correct…” 

---

Jaehyun Jung becomes the youngest ever president of South Korea. 

You lost your job. That was expected. A stack of empty Ben-and-Jerry cartons totter next to your sofa. 

You expected to feel furious at Jaehyun. Really, you’re happy that he’s achieved his dream.  

You only realise that you loved him now that he’s gone. At night, you remember the beautiful look of the blood rushing into his cheeks when he was embarrassed, and your heart hurts. 

One rainy night, you are especially depressed… when you hear a soft tap on your window. 

You run to the window and see… Jaehyun. 

He is standing in front of a long black car, holding a stone in his palm. 

Your heart thudding in your chest, you run down the stairs, forgetting about your scrappy pyjamas. 

Jaehyun’s strong, graceful body is silhouetted against the moonlight. 

Rivulets of rain run over his cheeks. The look in his eyes is not kind. In fact, it is a little frightening. 

He steps closer, and you fight the urge to shrink away. 

“You-“ he says, then falls silent, too angry to speak. “I told you things I’ve never told anyone, and you used me. Y/N.” You shiver at the sound of your real name on his lips.  

“You got what you wanted,” you say. “Why are you here?” 

“You’re right,” Jaehyun says. “I shouldn’t be here. I hate you.”

You no longer want to shrink away from his warm body. You want to move closer. You watch drops of water run over his plump pink lips. 

His voice is soft now. “I should hate you.”

You clasp the sides of Jaehyun’s neck and kiss him. 

This kiss is different to the last one. There is an urgency to Jaehyun’s hands. They roam over your body as if you might disappear any second. This is not sympathy, or affection, it is hunger. A hunger so strong it might swallow you both up. 

You pull him into your bedroom. 

You hear the soft thump of Jaehyun’s clothes on the floor. You feel the slight roughness of his palms as they stroke up your bare thighs. You smell the thick, dizzying scent of him on the air. You close your eyes and let every part of you press up against him…

---

When the sunlight beams through the windows, you wake up. Your body is tangled in Jaehyun’s. 

Jaehyun, with his hair a mess and his eyes half-glued together, is beautiful. When he wakes up, you are nervous. Did last night mean as much to him as it did to you? 

But then, he kisses you, long and deep, and says, “Next time, we should really do this at my place. Your apartment is a dump.”

And you laugh, the strong swell of relief surprising you. 

Over steaming hot lattes, you make fun of everything Jaehyun said in his inauguration speech, and Jaehyun complains that the photo they put of him in your article showed his ‘bad side’. 

But you’re holding hands. Your stomach tingles with excitement. 

At one point, you interrupt Jaehyun. “Oh my god,” you say. “I can’t believe I’m dating the president.” 

Jaehyun grins. “We’re dating, are we?” 

You blush.

But then, Jaehyun kisses your hair, and says, in a tone that vibrates with pride, “I can’t believe Y/n is my girlfriend.” He looks at you. “Come work on my press team. We need someone like you.” You shake your head. “Sorry, but I have a plan. I’m starting my own newspaper. What do you think about The Daily Worker?”

Jaehyun smiles. “I will never understand you. Let me spend the rest of my life trying?”    

You pull him closer. “I’d like that.” 

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

Taglist: @lovingvoidgoatee @the-universe-in-you-jjh@tacitanecdote@jolie-jolie@methneo@fairy-jojo@fluffyjaes@callingczimlonely@lav-nct@zodiqmz@nctevia @johnbanana @sheimarcali @su-minnie @sharkipoonis

#jaehyun #nct smut #jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun #nct 127 #nct imagines #kpop imagines #nct fics #nct drabbles #nct dream #nct 127 smut #nct 127 drabbles #nct scenarios #nct suggestive #nct hard hours #nct x y/n #nct x reader #yoonoh smut #nct reactions #nct fanfiction

[absolutebl]

Hello! I would like to place an order. *checks menu* Can I get some dramas with grumpy seme x sunshine uke? Something like a Kim x Porchay from KinnPorsche? Please and thank yooou~ *hands you a tip* (lol great blog i check it all the time ^^)

43 Grumpy/Sunshine BLs

This is a popular trope (and I tend to just combo it with tsundere/sunshine & grumpy/sweetheart). Korea loves it and tends to execute the most "on trope" versions. (Technically this is archetypes.)

I track it, so you can have an exhaustive list, like 200+ BLs. (And that's limiting to main couples only!) But I figured you wanted just the good ones...

You're a KP fan? Def track down Long Time No See. That'll be your winner.

Grumpy/sunshine BL Rated Above a 7/10

these are in general order with my personal favorites towards the top. I put the ones in bold that I think most satisfy the romance novel version of this trope. Sometimes sunshine can geta bit manic pixie dream boy.

To My Star

Until We Meet Again

A First Love Story (short)

Love Tractor

Nobleman Ryu's Wedding

A Tale of Thousand Stars

Cherry Blossoms After Winter

My School President

Just Friends?

Puppy Honey (BL Side)

Long Time No See

Life: Love on the Line

Restart After Come Back Home

Where Your Eyes Linger

2gether & Still 2gether

The Tasty Florida

You Make Me Dance

Golden Blood

Ocean Likes Me

Oh! Boarding House

Tinted With You

Star in My Mind

What Zabb Man!

All the Liquors

Happy Merry Ending

Love Mate

Moonlight Chicken

My Tooth Your Love

Candy Color Paradox

Never Let Me Go

Silhouette of Your Voice

Red Balloon

His the movie

Mr. Heart

Made in Rooftop

Manner of Death

Nitiman

Nation's Brother

Oh! My Sunshine Night

To Sir, With Love

HIStory5: Love In The Future

Oh My Assistant

My Esports Genius Brother

#asked and answered #thai bl #korean bl #grumpy sunshine trope #To My Star #Love Tractor #Cherry Blossoms After Winter #Puppy Honey #Long Time No See #Restart After Come Back Home #japanese bl #2gether #You Make Me Dance #Star in My Mind #All the Liquors #Happy Merry Ending #Love Mate #Mr. Heart #Nitiman #HIStory5: Love In The Future #My Esports Genius Brother #Oh My Assistant

[bhaalbaaby]

kinktober day 8

Title: Up To No Good (5600 words) Pairing: astarion/wyll/reader Warnings: nsfw, biting, but with more blood this time, anal, double penetration, alcohol A/N: imagine being between wyll and astarion. woof lol had to end it early because it's already so long lmao... kinks of the day: blood kink, double penetration, alternate universe

Read on AO3!

You really done it now. You try not to think about the upcoming trial as you hear your partner on the phone, trying to keep his voice hushed. You thought that if you found a loophole in his contract surely you could help him get free of his lousy job at Mizora Incorporated. How wrong you are. Wyll comes back, running his hand over his close-cut hair, the waves he worked hard on. He holds his phone in his fist, rolling it back and forth against his other calloused hand as he tries to come up with the words to say.

"Baby... We might be able to get out of this, but I have to go talk to Mr. Ancunin. Now."

Your brows furrow as you sit up on the couch, biting your bottom lip. "Now?"

He nods as he grabs his suit jacket. "Can I come too, since this is my fault?" You try to hide your desperation. Mr. Ancunin seems like a level-headed lawyer, but something about him is off. You don't trust Wyll to go there by himself, especially not in this upset state. He grimaces as he shrugs his jacket on. "I don't know. My dad barely got Astarion to approve of this meeting." You grab your shoes, quickly putting them on as you ignore Wyll's disapproval. You would make it right. You had to.

The ride to Mr. Ancunin's penthouse was quiet. The city traffic was mild and the cool air from Wyll's car kept you on edge. You wrap your cardigan around yourself tighter as you stare up at the tall buildings. When you agreed to date Wyll, you weren't thinking about the consequences of being a public figure's partner. Wyll Ravenguard, son of politician and general Ulder Ravenguard who was running for president. Gods, why did he have to be so handsome and down to earth? 

Mr. Ancunin had to live in the glamorous building you had to have seen. On your own, the doorman would have told you to mind your business and stop loitering, but with Wyll, he gives the doorman an easy smile as they let him into the parking garage. You mumble to yourself about nepotism, feeling your stomach do flips. You never met Wyll's lawyer and you rehearse your apology. Sorry, I snooped in his files, sorry I said there was a loophole, sorry I said that Mizora was corrupt on a public forum and called for justice for Karlach and Death to Zariel.

Karlach told you she appreciated it, but you got too passionate. Wyll's job is at stake, and his public persona under his father too. All because you got too passionate and caring. When Wyll parks, he hurries to your side to open your door. He still has his warm smile as he brings your knuckles to his lips. "Don't worry, my love. All will be okay." You don't want to doubt him but there's a gnawing in your stomach that makes your palms sweat. You wipe your hands on your dress as you step out of the car. 

Mr. Ancunin's home is very elegant and modern, not a mess to be found. He looks down at you, his glasses on the hilt of his nose as he raises a pale eyebrow. "Mr. Ravengard. You truly keep me on my toes. So does your little girlfriend." He waves his hand at you before letting you in.

Wyll keeps his hand on the small of your back as he smiles gratefully at his lawyer. "I appreciate it. I really do. So does General Ravengard."

Astarion's jaw tightens at the mention of Wyll's father, but he leads you both to his office. His desk is a dark mahogany that feels a bit dated with a modern black leather chair behind it, and his computer to the side with tabs open. You make out a Word document and an internet browser with the news plastering your face. You wince as you sit in the firm leather chair next to Wyll.

"You're lucky this will be an easy win as long as you two can behave." Astarion scoffs as he moves his computer in front of him. You feel like you're in the principal's office as he starts typing away. Wyll starts talking, but you tune him out, your mind racing. You just need to apologize and then everything will be done and over with right? Wyll reaches over and holds your hand gingerly in his hand. Astarion seems very annoyed as he continues to type, pushing up his glasses. You notice that his dark eyes aren't brown but a mesmerizing red.

You shift in your chair as you glance over at Wyll. He's so confident and professional. His whole life he's been trained for moments like this. You on the other hand fidget as you hope and pray that Wyll can handle it and that your meek apology for overstepping will make it all go away. To your surprise, Astarion doesn't even address you, his questions pointed towards Wyll. You trust in Wyll that he won't lie or make you look bad. He's so honest and earnest that you can tell Astarion is getting tired. You're making him work overtime anyway. You look around his nice office and figured he would be out and about enjoying the city this Friday evening.

Astarion clears his throat and Wyll squeezes your thigh. You blink, coming back to Earth. "Is there anything that you wanted to add, (Y/N)?" Astarion asks, his eyebrow raised. You shake your head no, giving him a shy smile before quickly adding, "I'm sorry for the chaos and confusion. I just wanted to speak about the injustices." Wyll winces and the corners of Astarion's lips turn downward.

"Thank you for that. You two are welcome to leave. This is plenty for me to work with. You should have the media and Mizora off your back by Monday." You both let out a sigh of relief and Wyll sits forward. "This calls for a celebration, I think."

Astarion smirks as he shrugs, "If this does go away and you two are officially off the hook, then we'll celebrate, Mr. Ravengard." You politely smile, still worried you may say something that will get disapproval from both again. "Of course. We'll be waiting by our phones awaiting the news, Mr. Ancunin." Astarion stands, chuckling. "Now, if you excuse me. I have plenty of emails to send."

You and Wyll spend the weekend down low, afraid that one slip-up would cause for another intervention with Wyll's dad or worse Mr. Ancunin. He seemed more intense since you at least think Mr. Ravengard likes you. Wyll is better at keeping his worries hidden as he continues with his routine, going to the gym, talking to his friends albeit on the phone rather than in person, and spending the evenings with you. You two spent Saturday night in bed and Sunday too nervous to have sex unsure about what Monday would bring. 

Astarion calls Wyll in the morning when you two get ready to go to work. "They've accepted the terms so long as you two don't bring it up anymore." Wyll pulls away from the phone, muting it as he glances at you. "We have to for Karlach's sake."

Your nostrils flare wishing you could get better terms for your friend but you nod, not wanting to cause more discomfort for her. "That's amazing, Astarion. We should celebrate!" Astarion chuckles as he replies, "You two should do that."

"No, it's my treat. You helped us when you didn't have to." Wyll is so kind and genuine. You always admire him for that. Astarion sighs, "Well, as long as it's not too late. It is a Monday night and I have a lot of work I need to do since I was busy with you two." Wyll's warm smile is contagious as you find yourself smiling along, not wanting to spend time with Mr. Ancunin, but as long as it makes Wyll happy.

You choose a simple black dress as Wyll sticks with his business casual black button-down and black pants. Gods, if you only had more time, you would have jumped his bones, especially when he puts the matching jacket over your shoulders, his cologne still lingering. You make sure you give him bedroom eyes as you get in his car, letting your hand linger on his thigh as he drives. "This will be a quick thing, don't worry, (Y/N)," Wyll says, giving you a knowing smile.

You roll your eyes as you check your lipgloss. "You always say that but then it ends up being a networking thing for you and your dad." You hope it doesn't sound snarky as you quickly add, "But Astarion also will want to make it quick too since we're a handful."

Wyll nods, "We should be open to all opportunities tonight." You wonder what he means by that as you ride the whole way in silence. 

The bar is not that busy as professionals usually don't drink on Mondays. You and Wyll arrive before Astarion and you find a small booth towards the back away from patrons. Wyll orders for you both, knowing what you like. You lean against him as you wait. Besides this little mishap, you don't know anything about Astarion. You hope he would be relatable and want to talk about something other than work. Wyll rubs a gentle pattern on your arm as the drinks arrive. "I hope he shows. It'd be embarrassing if we got all dressed up and he didn't come." Wyll jokes, though his usual smile is nowhere to be found.

You peck his cheek. "Of course he will. Your dad is a big client." You note as you see the silver-haired man come into the bar. Outside of his lawyer persona, he could be handsome, and charming. You see him at a place like this and feel lucky he chose you. You cringe at the thought as you take a sip of your drink, grateful Wyll knows you so well. 

"The man of the hour." Wyll announces as he stands, shaking Astarion's hand. Astarion chuckles, rolling his eyes as he shakes Wyll's hand, reaching down to shake yours as well. "I just pulled a few strings of a couple of important people to make issues go away." Astarion states as he sits down across from you.

The waitress is quicker this time to the table to get Astarion's drink. You're right in that he has a certain aura around him that people are drawn in. You can even feel it on yourself as you drink more and stare at him. He orders an expensive red wine and the waitress leaves a bit flustered when he says he doesn't want any food. She didn't even offer that to you two. "So, do you always offer celebrations like this to all of the people who assist with cleaning up your problems?" Astarion asks, his eyes are intense.

Wyll's smile is easy as he nods, "Not usually with a drink, but you've been working hard, Mr. Ancunin, and we needed to relax. Seemed like a good excuse to get out of the house."

The waitress is so fast with Astarion's wine, it's almost startling. "Thank you dear," Astarion says, his voice almost a purr. She giggles as she asks if he needs anything else. You and Wyll share a look as Astarion says no. "Who knew you had such a pull on the ladies," You say cheekily once the woman is out of earshot.

Astarion rolls his eyes as he sniffs his wine. "I get who I can. And she may get lucky tonight." There's a sadness you can't place in his tone.

Wyll lifts his glass as he smirks, "We'll drink to that." His eyes soften as he takes a sip of the wine. "I won't lie to you two. I have neglected myself this weekend handling this issue."

"Oh no, I'm sorry to hear that." You frown, holding your cup in both of your hands as you lean forward, the dress dragging a bit lower to reveal your cleavage. It's on accident as you sit back to readjust, but Astarion's eyes still linger. "Is there anything we can do to help ease your pain?" Wyll asks.

An idea flickers in Astarion's eyes and he tuts. "Well, there is something, but it's far-fetched. I would require you both to trust me."

"Of course. We do," Wyll replies quickly, also leaning forward, his expression serious.

Astarion smirks as he sits back, "Maybe we should see how tonight goes."

You don't like that answer, glaring at him. "Why can't you tell us now?"

Astarion clears his throat before taking another sip of his wine. "Well, you two should know before you find out from someone else." He lowers his voice as he leans into the table. You lean in as well, glancing over at Wyll. "I have a special condition that requires a controversial substance."

"Weed? Acid? Coke? Heroin?" The list spills out of your head before you can stop yourself.

Wyll gives you an incredulous look while Astarion looks amused. "No, not that. Worse." You raise your eyebrow as you can't think of anything worse besides meth, but he seems too classy for a meth addict.

"Blood. I haven't been able to feed on anyone in a tenday." Your looks of shock do not surprise Astarion as he sighs, "I'm glad I was able to operate coherently as I did, but I can't go that long without blood."

"You're a vampire?" Wyll asks, trying to keep his voice low.

Astarion nods, sipping his wine. "That's one word for it. Blood deficiency is what I call it to keep people's alarms low." He laughs to himself. "But this is why I said we should see how the night goes because you're both looking at me like I've grown another head. I'm not like the ones on TV which are stereotypical at best, offensive at worse." He scoffs, his fangs more apparent.

You swallow hard as you glance at Wyll. You could say no. You have to say no.

"How much do you need?" Wyll asks instead, the goodness in him still shining through.

Astarion's eyes light up as he smiles. "Only just a bite. You'll barely notice that I took a sip."

You take a long drink of your alcohol, feeling the effects when you put the cup down. Expensive stuff increases the percentage in just a cup, you think as you sigh. "What's the worst that could happen? We give blood at the blood bank, so why not?" You say to Wyll, feeling the liquor loosen your tongue.

Wyll shrugs, "But we can change our mind if it's a bit too much."

Astarion nods as he scoots closer to you both. You feel claustrophobic in between them as Astarion rests his hand on your thigh. "Yes, I won't go further than you two want." You can tell he wants to kiss you both, but that waitress is still watching, waiting.

"We can go back to my place and see where this night goes." Astarion suggests. You both nod, flagging the waitress over as Wyll handles the tab. 

Astarion's room is a contrast to his office, his bed a California king with soft white sheets and silvery patterns on the fluffy duvet. "Don't worry about getting it messy. It's seen plenty." Astarion says as you two get on the bed, watching him carefully. Wyll gently bites his lip, reaching for your hand. You wonder if he'll stop before anything happens, but Astarion approaches him first, their lips meeting. You're slightly jealous watching as Astarion kisses your partner. Wyll's grip on your hand tightens as he pulls you closer. You kiss his neck, hearing his moan muffled against Astarion's mouth. He lets go of your hand as Astarion comes for you next, his kiss more practiced than yours. You try your best to match his passion, feeling hands on your chest. The kiss isn't as long as Wyll's as Astarion returns his lips.

You watch as Wyll and Astarion's tongues intertwine, Astarion's hands massaging your chest through your thin dress, Wyll's hand running along Astarion's thigh. You moan softly, tugging your dress lower, giving both of them full access to yourself. Astarion pulls away as Wyll grabs your breast, his lips quickly wrapping around your nipple, making you squeal.

Astarion grabs your chin, leading you to kiss him. His lips are soft and inviting as your hand rests on Wyll's head, fingers running along his soft waves. He pulls back, turning to Astarion. "Is this what you do with all the people you bite?" He asks as he helps you out of your dress. You feel like both of them are overly dressed as you lie back on the soft bed in your panties, wondering which one will offer you their cock first and where.

Astarion chuckles as he presses kisses down your torso, burying his face between your thighs against your lacy panties. "Not often. You two are the first couple in a while. Both of you will satisfy me." He states as you squeal feeling his warm mouth against the fabric. Wyll smiles down at you as he undoes his pants. You watch with hungry eyes seeing the imprint of his member tighten in his underwear as he slips the pants off.

"As long as we don't tell anyone." Wyll adds, leaning down to kiss your moaning lips, your legs wrapping around Astarion's curly head. He lifts his head, pressing kisses along your inner thigh.

"Of course. We'll all sign NDAs once this is all over." He jokes as he slips your panties to the side, his tongue flat as he laps at you. You arch your back as your hands make quick work of Wyll's briefs, your hands wrapped around his thick cock. He tenses, the muscles on his stomach contracting as you stroke him.

You try to ignore Astarion as you glance up at Wyll, his handsome face looking towards the soft-lit ceiling as he bites his lip. Your brows furrow as Astarion suckles your clit, your mouth dropping. You bring Wyll's cock closer to your face, knowing your hands won't do much work as you start trembling.

Wyll leans down, tugging at your nipples as you slowly let his cock fill your mouth. You always love how he feels inside of your mouth, you never found yourself getting tired of sucking him off. Your tongue runs up and down his length before letting him go as far as you can take him, gagging slightly. Your hands rest on his thighs as your foot runs up and down Astarion's back, your hips rocking against his mouth.

Astarion pops his head up, slipping a finger into your hole. "That's not fair," He purrs as he watches you pleasure Wyll.

"What's not?" Wyll asks, trying to keep his voice even as you moan around his cock. "That you're handsome, rich, and have a perfect cock. I bet you'll even bottom for me." Astarion rolls his eyes before returning his tongue, the tip so sharp against your clit. You remove your mouth to cry out, digging your nails into Wyll's hips.

"I'm sure yours is also great Astarion. You're distracting (Y/N) though." He says, slightly pouting as he guides your mouth back, his fingers tugging on your hair as he takes over, ignoring your whimper around him, Astarion's fingers picking up speed.

He laughs softly as he removes his mouth. "She tastes glorious. I'm sure you two have lots of fun." He teases as he presses kisses on your panties, avoiding making you cry out again. You wish you could join their banter, but your brain goes to mush when Astarion leans up, his thrusts consistent as his mouth wraps around your nipple, his tongue flicking. You breathe heavily through your nose, glancing up at Wyll who grunts softly. You feel spit coat your chin, the moans getting lost by the wet noises between your thighs and your mouth.

"I think she's ready for you." Astarion states before gently nibbling your breasts, making you moan louder.

"Are you sure?" Wyll asks, glancing over at his lawyer, his hands now rubbing your clit. You rock your hips, trembling. You wonder who he pleases most of the time and how lucky they were. Sometimes you doubt how you can handle Wyll most of the time, so lucky to have him, but to have him and Astarion at the same time? You feel bad that your body would give out before they both get a turn.

"I want to see how good her mouth can be. She's making you look so delicious." He explains, bringing his fingers to his lips.

Wyll chuckles leaning down to kiss you quickly before going between your thighs. He unbuttons his shirt, tossing it on the floor. His fingers tug your panties down as Astarion takes Wyll's previous spot, also taking off his shirt. He isn't toned like Wyll, but you can see he works out sometimes from his arms. You're overwhelmed, unsure to look at Wyll who puts your thighs on either side of him before deciding to turn you over, deciding on where to look.

You look up at the pale vampire who smiles down at you. You undo his belt as you feel Wyll rub his cock between your cheeks, palming your ass. "You look very pretty like this," Astarion says to you, running his fingers gently through your hair as you try to keep your mind from scrambling more.

Astarion's cock isn't much different than Wyll's besides being uncut and not as girthy but makes up for it in length. Gods… You briefly imagine both of them inside of you and a shiver runs down your back as you feel Wyll pull back and the small rip of a wrapper. You don't waste any more time, bringing the cock to your lips. Astarion breathes heavily through his nostrils as you gently suck on his tip.

You roll your tongue along his tip pulling away as Wyll slowly thrusts in. You push your ass back towards him as he starts his pace, taking his time as he watches you struggle with sucking Astarion. "First-time threesome?" He asks as he gently pets your head.

You nod as you stroke him. "B-b-but I'll do my best to please you, Mr. Ancunin." You say, ignoring the pleasure that flushes your skin each time Wyll thrusts in. You run your tongue along Astarion's cock, his hand guiding you lower to his balls. You suck on them as your hand continues to stroke him, focusing on the tip. He thrusts into your hand, keeping you lower still. Wyll's hands grip your hips as he picks up his pace, grunting. Your toes curl as you clench around him.

"Does she come fast for you, Wyll?" Astarion asks breathily as you moan around his balls. Wyll chuckles as he spanks your ass hard.

"She does. Says my cock is the best she's ever had." Heat comes to your cheeks as they talk about you like you're not there. "She's struggling hard." Astarion notes as he finally lets you up, using your mouth for his pleasure. You moan around his cock as he continues to fuck your mouth, trying to match Wyll's pace as he fucks you hard, spanking you with every other stroke. "But she's a good girl who waits," Wyll states, gripping your ass hard as he spreads your cheeks, watching as your asshole contracts.

"Are you a good girl?" Astarion asks as he stuffs your mouth. You whine, trying to nod your head as he grips your head, enjoying the gagging that escapes your throat. You don't know how you're keeping yourself together now as Wyll hits your spot over and over, beckoning for you to come with each stroke, but you hold yourself back giving all your attention to Astarion's thrusting cock.

"Neither of you can come yet. I want the honors." Astarion states after a while. He pulls his cock, rubbing his length on your wet lips before sitting back, watching as Wyll pounds you into the soft bedsheets.

"Wyll, be a darling and suck me off. You can still fuck your girlfriend." He stands, bringing his member to Wyll's lips. You take the opportunity to grab a pillow to muffle your moans as Wyll is so close to bringing you to orgasm. You wish Astarion would just fuck you now so he could say he made you come.

Your nails dig into the pillow as Wyll slows just a bit, wet noises coming from his mouth. You turn your head slightly to watch as he glances up at Astarion, his lips perfectly positioned around Astarion's pink tip. You look away quickly, feeling yourself get even more turned on, your legs trembling.

"Don't you dare come, (Y/N)." Astarion growls as he watches. You squeeze your thighs together as you think of something else, not the way Wyll's lips look wrapped around Astarion's cock, the way his cock buries itself deep inside, your walls clenching around him. You think of Astarion's sharp teeth and their true purpose and somehow that turns you off enough to let Wyll continue to pommel your ass.

Wyll stops soon, laughing as he removes his mouth. "I can't come either. She's so wet." He comments giving you another smack. "Another few strokes and I'd be the one in trouble."

Astarion chuckles as he gets down. "Turn over, (Y/N). It's my turn." You're delighted at the words as you obey. You need to release. He kisses you quickly as Wyll sits back on the bed, "Can I watch so I don't get worked up?" His question is sweet and Astarion rolls his eyes. "Sure. You can also make it tough for (Y/N) too."

Wyll's eyes light up at the suggestion and you mentally curse him while you whine. "Make it tough?" You ask as Astarion reaches for a condom. "Of course. It's fun to make you wait for your orgasm." Astarion notes as he puts the protection on.

You flare your nostrils as Wyll lies next to you. "You're so pretty, baby. I'm glad I get to share how pretty you get when you're like this." You roll your eyes at Wyll's compliment as he tilts your head up towards him, Astarion pulling your hips closer. You break the kiss, and look into Astarion's red eyes as he slowly thrusts inside. You moan as Wyll slides his hand down between your legs, rubbing your swollen clit.

"Oh, fuck. Fuck you." You cry out, holding on to his shoulders as your legs wrap around Astarion's hips. Both of them chuckle as you become a moaning mess, closing your eyes tight as you clench around Astarion. Your stomach tightens as you try your best to not come instantly.

Wyll leans down, kissing your neck, resting his head against yours as you pant against his chest. "You're doing a good job taking his dick, baby. You made my fingers so wet already." Wyll whispers in your ear as his circular motions quicken, Astarion's strokes so deep and precise.

"Gods help me," is all you can say as you say as your legs tighten around Astarion's waist. Astarion laughs as he leans down, grabbing Wyll's firm ass.

"She's not gonna last." He comments, as your hips rock against him, breathing heavily.

"What should we do about that?" Wyll asks, his voice always so earnest. Astarion glances down as he pounds you into the bed, finding where you're most sensitive.

"Fuck her ass. I know she can't handle us like this, but imagine how she'll be with both of us?" His eyes dance as you continue to bury your face into Wyll's slightly sweaty chest. He chuckles as Astarion slows, "Lube is in my dresser."

Oh, he's serious.

You glance at Astarion, the madman. Wyll kisses you one last time before going to get the lube. "Yes sir." Once Wyll rolls off the bed, Astarion's arms scoop you up, making you cry out as he bounces you on his cock.

"You taste as sweet as you sound." Astarion teases as you bury your face in his neck, holding on for dear life. The sound of skin on skin fills the room with Wyll rummaging around to find the lube.

"Don't you come, darling? It's not time yet." He growls as his fingers dig into your ass. You curse as you glance over at Wyll.

"Hurry up!" You cry, the faith in yourself to behave and not make a mess on Astarion's cock as the new angle has his cock nestled against your g-spot. Wyll laughs as he shakes his head. "You hear how close she is, Astarion?" Wyll asks as he returns to the bed with the little bottle. Astarion leans down, pressing kisses against your sweaty neck.

"Absolutely. I think I'll bite her once you're in." He purrs as he leans back slightly as you cry out, feeling Wyll rest behind you. You try to relax as Astarion slows, sucking on your sensitive skin. It's going to hurt no doubt. You've been bitten before, but not for blood, to feed.

You feel Wyll press his now-slicked cock against your puckered hole as Astarion stops, allowing Wyll to fill you. You tense, his thick shaft hot as he stretches your hole.

Your mouth drops open, a scream catching in your throat as Wyll lets you rest your back against him, his hands massaging your chest. Astarion smirks as he leans forward, picking up his pace as you struggle against Wyll in your ass. Your mouths meet as he holds your legs higher.

Wyll groans as he ruts against you, twisting and massaging your nipples as your body contracts around both of their cocks. You close your eyes tight, your body heating up as Astarion pulls away, peppering kisses down your neck.

"Be prepared for a gush, my dear Prince. Biting tends to make people..." He pauses to kiss your neck again, grinding his hips as flush as he can as you toss your head back against Wyll's shoulder. "In rapture."

Wyll's arms flex around you, expecting the worst as he rocks his hips. You're getting used to his girth in his angle now that Astarion slows down, kissing your neck and getting you ready for whatever a vampire bite feels like.

His teeth are like hot icicles sinking into your skin like butter. The scream that erupts from your body seems otherwordly as Wyll holds you still, blood running down your neck and collarbones as Astarion's thrust is languid. You close your eyes tight, feeling lightheaded. His mouth is warm as he continues to feed, moaning as warm gushes of blood fill his mouth. Your arms that wrapped around his shoulders start to go limp. How much did he need?

Wyll also slows as your breathing shallows, Astarion showing no signs of stopping. "Hey Boss, I think that's enough," Wyll says pushing Astarion off.

Astarion's pupils are blown as he leans back, taking in the sight of you barely holding on to consciousness and Wyll's suddenly sobered-up look of concern. Astarion laughs as he licks the blood that runs down your neck, hiking your legs up again as he picks up his pace, harder this time, arousing more moans from your lips.

"I'm sorry pets. It's been a while since I've had someone as tasty (Y/N)." He says as he licks his lips, leaning forward to kiss Wyll. Wyll hesitates before kissing him back, your blood still on Astarion's tongue. You watch them through half-lidded eyes, trying to regain your energy as your torture continues.

Wyll curses under his breath as he pushes you towards Astarion, his thrusts fast, your body barely able to catch up. "Yes, pound her. Oh Gods, feel how she clenches around us." Astarion purrs, holding you up as you withstand Wyll's brutal pounding, your cries echoing through the penthouse. Wyll's hand clutches your breast and the other slides down to your hips as your ass smacks against him until he moans, holding himself still. You hold on to Astarion tight until Wyll finally pulls out, shaking his head. "Fuck, my love..."

He rests on the bed as Astarion also pulls out, resting you back on the bed. You're slightly annoyed that the bite isn't as erotic as you thought, not making you orgasm, but you hide it by kissing your sweetheart with the look of bliss on his face.

Astarion isn't eluded like Wyll, getting him cleaned up by removing the condom and handing him a towel. "You should get your girlfriend off," Astarion says with a wink as he throws the condoms away. Your eyes widen as you shake your head.

"I think I need a nap." You reply quickly, trying not to make sudden movements. He rolls his eyes, returning to the bed, pulling your hips back to him as he leans down. Wyll sits up, watching, raising his eyebrow. "You didn't do enough, Astarion?" There's a slight edge to his voice, that he plays off with a smile.

"I don't think we did enough," Astarion says, kissing your ass before burying his tongue between them, your moan slipping out before you can catch yourself. Wyll watches, sighing as he guides your hand back to his cock. "Then we'll have to start again," Wyll says after a moment, guiding your face up to his.

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 astarion #astarion x wyll #wyll x reader #wyllstarion #kinktober #october prompts #nsft #writing #wyll ravengard #astarion x reader

[starlightkun]

❧ word count: 10.3k ❧ warnings: cursing, mentions and discussion of past family deaths, discussions of blood and blood drinking, graphic description of blood and blood drinking, an even more graphic description of neck biting than the first one lol (y’know, vampire stuff, hope we weren’t expecting anything else) ❧ genre: fluff, angst but between friends not our main couple, modern magical creatures au, fantasy au, college au, vampire kun, human reader, ft. various other magical weishens, same universe as strawberry sunday, sequel to romance is dead ❧ extra info: this is a sequel to romance is dead! it cannot be read as a standalone, you must read romance is dead first! this work is set in the same universe as strawberry sunday! there is no continuing plotline between fics in this universe (aside from romance is dead to this one), they simply take place in the same world/magic system and may have overlapping characters (neos may pop up in more than one work!) ❧ author’s note: a second inspiration has hit the author, mr. president

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ explore the strawberry sunday universe more here!

i believe in miracles, something more than physical

“Hey, guys—”

“You know, Kunhang, just write a paper about it in your Philosophy of Magic class, because I’m sick of hearing about it,” you spat at the gryphon sitting across from you, paying Yangyang—who had just walked up and you had cut off—entirely no attention.

“I’m not even in Philosophy of Magic, so—” Kunhang shot back, giving you a smug look.

Yangyang’s bright smile turned to a look of ‘yikes’ as he pivoted on his heel, presumably to make a break from what he had just walked into. Except Ten’s hand darted out to latch onto his forearm and yank him down into a chair at the table.

“Oh, no you don’t,” the siren said through gritted teeth. “This is your fault, you’re going to suffer through it with the rest of us.”

“My fault? How? I just got here.”

Dejun leaned in from across the table, “They’re debating the ethics of blood drinking. Or, Kunhang is at least trying to.”

“And he’s about fifty years late to it in modern academia at least,” Sicheng snorted softly, bringing the straw of his drink up to his mouth.

“That’s also like the first assignment you get in every Intro to MCS class ever.” Yangyang ripped open a ketchup packet to begin squirting it all over his fries. “Why is he—”

All of his friends who weren’t currently hurtling verbal vitriol at each other instead gave him a very frank, pointed look. The witch trailed off.

“Oh. Right.” He picked up a fry that had gotten a bit too much ketchup on it, watching as a glob of the red condiment dripped off it before biting it in half.

You, meanwhile, were this fucking close to storming out of the student union building and keying Kunhang’s car. You weren’t one for violence, but you absolutely were one for vandalism and property damage. And it would be so goddamn cathartic to key his car right about now. After all, this wasn’t the first, nor second, nor even third time that he had tried to philosophize and/or debate you out of your relationship.

Speaking of, you spotted a familiar figure approaching your table, one that was able to dissolve just enough tension and malice from your body in that moment that you decided to save keying Kunhang’s car for another day.

“Oh! Kun!” You lifted your hand to give him a small wave, despite the fact that you definitely knew that he had both seen and smelled you, and was already headed straight for you.

Kunhang noticeably clenched his jaw and shifted back in his seat, clearly upset at your discussion being interrupted. Thankfully, he generally had the decency to not do all this in front of your boyfriend.

Kun offered an enchanting smile as he approached, first picking one of your hands up to kiss the back of it as always, then he pecked your cheek. “Hello, Y/N.”

“Hi, Kun.” Your gaze followed him as he walked around behind you to take the empty seat you’d saved for him in between you and Dejun.

“Good afternoon, everybody,” the vampire nodded to your other friends.

A chorus of ‘Hey, Kun’s came from around the table, save for the gryphon across from you. You stared him down angrily, but he refused to make eye contact with you.

“Did you get held up or something?” You turned your focus to your boyfriend instead, referencing his unusual tardiness to your friend group’s typical late-lunch meetup.

“I had to speak with my professor about a recent test grade. It turns out he entered it in the electronic gradebook wrong. I didn’t expect it to take so long, I’m sorry, my love, I should have texted you to let you know I was going to be late.”

“Kun, it’s okay,” you reassured him, taking his hand in yours and resting them on your lap. “It was just a few minutes.”

“Sucks about your grade, though,” Yangyang added, then stuffing three fries in his mouth at once.

“It’s been corrected, so no harm done.” Kun had an easy smile on his face as he conversed, one that you were happy to see more and more.

“Why even correct it?” Kunhang huffed from his seat, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re going to live forever, what do grades even matter? You can just take the class again, right? Get another degree, you can get a million degrees, I’m sure you already have a hundred or two. What does this one little grade even matter? What does any of this even matter to you? What do any of us even matter to you?”

“Kunhang, stop it!” You snapped, your grip tightening on Kun’s hand. You knew where that line of questioning was going, or had already gone implicitly. So what did you matter to Kun, then? But you already knew plenty about Kun’s view on life, both the finite and his eternal one, and how much he treasured everything he had now and looked forward to all the changes that were yet to come. Kunhang, of course, knew nothing about that, because this was so far the closest thing he’d had to a real conversation with the vampire since you and Kun had officially started dating.

“This was my midterm test grade, which is a significant portion of the class’s overall grade as this professor only gives three grades: midterm, final, and final paper. If I had to repeat the class, it would affect my current plan to graduate next semester with Y/N and begin my master’s next fall.” Kun, who you would’ve sworn was an actual angel if not for the red eyes, calmly answered only his first question.

“Y/N, seriously? You have life plans with a—”

You finally felt something fully snap inside of you, letting go of Kun’s hand to slam both of your palms on the table and stand up out of your chair. “Just shut the fuck up, Kunhang! You’re not him! You know that, right? You’re not him, so just stop it already!”

Kunhang’s nostrils flared as he stared you right back down, his grey eyes swirling like storm clouds. Then he grabbed his backpack off the ground and stormed out of the student union, knocking his chair so far back in his haste that it hit a student sitting at the table behind you.

You were still rooted to the same spot, your hands flat against the table, leaning over it, your eyes glued to the doors that the gryphon had left through. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath, feeling the anger tingling in the tips of your fingers and your toes like electricity.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” Ten asked quietly, hesitantly.

“No,” you answered flatly, grabbing your own bag and taking off in the opposite direction.

Hot tears were already pricking at your eyes before you pushed open the door to leave the building, and you couldn’t even make it to the sidewalk that wrapped around the main block of campus before the tears gathering in your vision made it too hard to see.

You stopped at a bench, looking around hopefully and letting out a rather pitiful, “Kun?”

He emerged from the crowd of students just a moment later, relief flashing across his face for a moment before a deep line set between his brows again as he came to sit beside you. You immediately buried your face in his neck, and he wrapped his arms around you, resting a hand on the back of your head.

“There you are, my love,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I was late again.”

You let out a strangled giggle into the material of his sweatervest at that. Turning your head so your words wouldn’t be so muffled, you joked, “It’s okay, I was kind of running away.”

“Still, I should be faster than you.”

“Mm, good point.”

You were still crying, the tears falling down your cheeks one after another. But you didn’t want to keep crying on campus with the sounds of other people walking by. While you certainly weren’t the first person to cry on this bench—nor would you be the last—you didn’t want to prolong your stint there any longer.

“Kun?” You mumbled his name.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Can you take me home please?”

“Of course.”

“Your home,” you clarified.

He shifted to hold you just a bit tighter to him. “Of course, my love.”

At Kun’s house, you were sat on his plush olive-green couch, your knees pulled up to your chest as you blew on a mug of hot tea that he had just handed you. Both of you were fresh out of a nice relaxing bath, with comfy clothes on courtesy of your boyfriend, who had also insisted on making you a cup of calming tea. You did make him promise that it wasn’t one of those spiked blends that witches sold. He assured you it was just regular old chamomile that you could pick up at a human supermarket.

Kun sat down beside you, resting an arm along the back of the couch behind you. You continued listlessly staring at the surface of the tea, watching the ripples on the surface as you blew across it.

“Kunhang wasn’t even my best friend first, you know?” You said abruptly into the quiet.

Kun took it in stride, asking curiously, “Whose was he, then?”

“My brother’s.”

“Your… brother’s…” He repeated slowly, and you knew exactly what he was thinking about: when he had met your immediate family just a few weeks ago, your mom and dad. No siblings.

“Yeah, Kunhang’s family lived across the street. They were inseparable growing up. It was practically like having two big brothers,” you recalled fondly, a bittersweet smile playing across your lips for a moment before it fell off completely at what was coming next. “Then after the funeral, Kunhang and I would check up on each other. Calls, texts, getting lunch, ‘wow you’re graduating already I can’t believe you’ve gotten so big,’ and we just kind of never stopped.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Kun ran a gentle, cool knuckle up your cheek to catch a stray tear. You grabbed his hand to hold it instead, giving it a tight squeeze.

“What are you apologizing for?” You sniffled, a hint of playfulness in your tone as you echoed the words he’d said to you when he’d told you about his parents’ passing.

“Isn’t that what you say? I’m sorry for your loss?” He murmured back, clearly aware of the same déjà vu, but with no sense of irony or humor to the words.

“Yeah, I am too.” You finally took a sip of the tea, and immediately let out a hiss. Too hot still. “Anyway, I actually think everyone was expecting that Kunhang and I were going to end up together but he’s just… it’s not like that. And I think he thinks his job is to be my brother now. To watch over me since… my brother can’t anymore.”

“‘You’re not him…’” Kun repeated in recognition.

“I know… that probably hurt him a lot.” You gnawed on your bottom lip regretfully as you imagined the kind of pain those words must have put your friend through. “But I wish he could just get it through his stupid bird brain that he doesn’t have to do that. All I need him to be is my friend.”

Kun rubbed his thumb over yours tenderly. “Have you told him that?”

“No, no I haven’t,” you admitted, reluctantly realizing that you unfortunately weren’t entirely faultless in this. Or, at least that you could be doing much more to patch things up instead of expecting Kunhang to just read your mind.

“Maybe try that?” He suggested.

“Okay, yeah. You’re right.” You lifted the mug to your lips once more, then immediately spat the tea back out. “God, Kun! Did you get the water for this from the surface of the fucking Sun? What the fuck?!”

“The Sun is far too hot to maintain liquid water,” he deadpanned, earning a frank glare from you.

“You’re hilarious. You and Kunhang should do stand-up together if he ever gets the mile-long stick out of his ass.”

“He should see a doctor about that.”

You shifted forward to set the mug down on the ornately carved cherry wood coffee table. “Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of it tomorrow.”

“You’re such a Good Samaritan.”

Kun enveloped you in his arms as you turned around to wrap yours around him, resting your head on his chest. He laid the both of you down on the couch, pulling a blanket down off the back to lay it over you. You liked laying like this, because despite everyone else telling you that vampires were technically dead, when you and Kun were like this, you could hear him breathing in and out—and yes maybe that was just for him to keep track of smells like the apex predator he technically was, but it’s not like you didn’t do the same thing; take an extra deep inhale when you were here, wearing his clothes, in his home, being held by him. And you could hear something beating in his chest, too. What was it pumping, to where, and for what purpose, you didn’t know, or really care. All you knew was that despite it all, Kun was right here, with you, and you could hear that, feel that, know that, and know that he always would be, even after you were gone.

“Kun?” You looked up at him, your chest getting warm and tight when you realized that he had already been gazing down at you.

“Yes?” He traced your jawline with one finger seemingly absentmindedly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Kiss me?”

“Ah, how could I resist?” He tilted your chin up as he bent his neck to connect his cool lips with your warm ones.

In the morning, you finally woke up, sitting up and stretching out what felt like a decade of tension from your body. You always felt like you got the best sleep of your life at Kun’s place thanks to his carefully acquired silk sheets and vampire-level blackout curtains. Blindly reaching out in the dark for the other side of the bed, you were disappointed to find it empty. Figures, Kun never slept in, if he even slept at all. Well, you could at least turn a light on. You turned exactly one bedside wall sconce on—which you guessed was probably originally meant to be for oil but Kun had retrofitted to be electric—and immediately spotted a folded piece of paper standing up on your nightstand.

Propping yourself up on an elbow, you grabbed the small piece of cardstock, unfolding it and holding it up to the sconce to be able to read the neat script that was on it. Rubbing sleep out of your eyes, a smile spread across your lips as you recognized it as another poem from Kun. An Italian sonnet, if you weren’t mistaken. He would still pen you verses at random intervals, but at least never gave them when there was a risk of your nosy friends being around.

You read it through one more time before setting it back on the nightstand and swinging your feet over the side of the bed. After first shuffling to the bathroom, you then shuffled to the bedroom door.

You found a full fare of breakfast already set up at the kitchen table, but no vampire in sight. Huh. Usually even if he wasn’t going to eat, he would at least sit with you and read a book or chat with you while you ate.

Loading up a few pieces of fruit and finger foods onto a plate, you took your breakfast to go into the living room to look for your boyfriend. He was a quick find, at least, sitting at his producing desk. His head was bobbing along to whatever he was listening to, sitting cross-legged in his desk chair as he leaned forward on both elbows on the desk. Which was probably why he couldn’t hear or feel you approaching until you laid a hand on his back.

Kun’s shoulders jumped as he startled and whipped around, pulling his headphones off. You couldn’t help but laugh at his wide, surprised eyes. It wasn’t often that you could give a vampire a scare, after all.

He put a hand over his chest, a relieved smile coming to his face, “Oh, it’s just you, Y/N. You startled me.”

“Clearly,” you snickered, popping a grape in your mouth. You rubbed your hand up and down his back. “What are you working on?”

“Oh, nothing.” He quickly minimized the tabs on his screens.

“And that’s not suspicious at all,” you snorted. “But fine, you want to do a little secret project, go for it.”

“You found breakfast.” Kun smiled up at you, gesturing to your plate of food.

“Changing the subject, also not suspicious. But yes, I did. The poem, too. Thank you for both.”

“Also, good morning, my love.”

“Good morning, Kun.” You cupped his cheek to pull him into a good morning kiss. “Are you hungry?”

He shook his head. “No, that’s all yours.”

“Not what I meant. You didn’t feed last night, unless you had some supplement this morning before I woke up.”

“We were talking about a delicate subject. Not exactly the time to ask to bite you, I think.”

“You never ask to bite me. I always have to offer.”

“Well—”

“Do I not taste good, Kun?” You asked humorously, mock offense in your tone.

He seemed at a loss for words, caught between not wanting to insult you and not wanting you to feel obligated to let him feed on you. “That’s not—”

“I’m kidding, hon,” you tossed another piece of fruit in your mouth. Stroking a thumb over his cheekbone, you reiterated firmly, “But are you hungry? And be honest with me, Qian Kun. You know that if you need to feed, all you have to do is ask.”

“You eat first,” he covered your hand that was on his face with his, and offered you a small smile. “Then I will. Okay?”

After finishing your plate of food, you were back in Kun’s bedroom, sat in a plush, oversized armchair with him. He had you in between his legs, your back flush to his front with both arms around your waist. You leaned back against him contentedly, resting your head against his as you rubbed circles into his inner thigh with your thumb.

“You always get quiet right before… What goes on up there every time?” You murmured, threading the fingers of your other hand through the hair at the back of his head. “Angsting about being a monster? Contemplating about your soul being damned? Indulge me, Kun.”

He let out a short laugh at your dramatics, his cold breath laugh blowing over the exposed skin of your neck, and his chest vibrating against you. “No, nothing like that. I’ve long disposed of thoughts like that about what I am, thankfully.”

“Good. Then what is it?” You dropped your hand and craned your head to be able to see his profile.

Even in the dim light afforded by the single wall sconce, you could see the warmth flickering in his scarlet irises as his gaze met yours. “I just stop to appreciate the moment, to appreciate you. I want to make sure I’ll never forget how lucky I am to have you.”

You closed the small gap between you, pressing your lips to his. Kun kissed you back unhurriedly, mouth moving against yours tenderly. It was you that moved to deepen the kiss, parting your lips. Always one to indulge you, he swiped his tongue against yours, cool and familiar. You didn’t break apart until you needed to breathe again, and even then, exchanged a handful more open-mouthed kisses full of tongue and teeth. Kun kept kissing a wet trail from your mouth to your jaw, then behind your ear, then down your neck. You let your head fall back on his shoulder as he stopped to press several kisses over one spot in particular. His deep inhale was audible. Anticipation pulsed through your body with every beat of your heart.

Your hand hadn’t stopped smoothing circles into his leg, and your grip on him tightened as you were alight with excitement. One of his hands reached out to lace with your free hand and wrap back around your waist.

Then, with one more gentle brush of his lips against your pulse point, he bit you. The familiar sharp piercing of his fangs breaking skin came first, followed by a sweet, soothing ecstasy that spread out from the bite through the entirety of your body. You shifted slightly to relax further back into him, a noise between a hum and sigh coming from your mouth. Kun squeezed your hand that he was holding, and you were quick to squeeze it back, an easy way for him to check in on you while he was drinking from you. If your grip wasn’t as strong as he’d like, or you failed to respond at all, he would’ve stopped entirely for fear of overdrinking. And if you ever wanted him to stop, you just had to squeeze his hand twice in row. You’d never had to use that signal once, nor did you ever imagine that you would; Kun was always a perfect gentleman before, during, and after, never coming close to overfeeding. If anything, you were sure that he erred on the side of underfeeding himself and supplementing with the artificial blood he kept in his fridge.

Kun’s mouth sucked the tender area as his tongue smoothed over the two rivulets draining from you. Another soft sound came from you as you reached up to grab his head, holding him there by the hair. You could feel him chuckle fondly against your neck, the vibrations thrumming through your body.

Like always, it was over much too soon for your liking. He took his mouth from your skin, pressing one more tender kiss to the spot where he bit before disconnecting entirely. Kun gently unwound your fingers from his hair and reluctantly unlaced his hand that was holding yours. He kept his arms around you, though, as he reached over to the short table that was beside the chair and grabbed a small tin no bigger than the palm of his hand.

Twisting the lid off, he leaned all the way back in the chair, encouraging you to sit back against him, turned just slightly to the side. He gently applied the salve to the bite, and you let your eyes flutter shut as you enjoyed the feeling of cool fingers running over the sensitive area. Sometimes you didn’t let him apply the bite salve, enjoying the look of a vampire bite on your neck for a few days. But today could not be one of those days, which you both knew very well. Not with who you’d have to go talk to soon after this.

When he was done, Kun closed the tin back up and set it aside once more, rubbing the remaining product into his own hands before wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on the opposite shoulder from where he’d just bit.

The smell of rosemary wafted up to your nose from the bite salve, and you contentedly rested your head against Kun’s. The wound would close up and heal in just a couple minutes now, leaving behind no trace of the bite.

“How do you feel?” He murmured right beside your ear.

“Mm, great,” you answered truthfully, playing with his fingers. “How about you?”

“Good, I’m good.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Thank you, Y/N. My miracle…”

You trudged up a hill, wiping away a bead of sweat that had gathered on your brow. When you’d gone to Kunhang and Yangyang’s apartment after breakfast that morning, you’d only been able to find the witch. He’d informed you that your gryphon friend had taken off early to go flying, but hadn’t told Yangyang where. Lucky for you, you knew exactly where he’d be anyway. Kunhang’s favorite flying spot was a park near your old neighborhood which had been made a specifically designated fly space. It was several square miles where no planes, helicopters, drones, or even kites could be flown to make it safe for gryphons, phoenixes, and other flying beings to stretch out their wings. It doubled as a nature preserve with walking trails, benches, and posted signs protecting the wildlife and plants.

You’d already caught sight of your target back on the walking trails, and were now chasing him down at a severe disadvantage on foot. Finally reaching the clearing he was doing the majority of his aerial tricks above, you stopped and looked up at him, using a hand to shield your face from the sun.

“Kunhang!” You called out to your friend, who was currently somersaulting through the air, powerful grey wings stretched out behind him.

He looked down at you, then pretended not to hear you, swooping down into a backflip.

“Kunhang, come on!” You yelled out desperately. “I-I want to apologize! Please!”

He stopped in midair at that, a fair distance above you. You had to crane your neck up to look at him.

“You want to apologize?” He looked down at you in disbelief.

“Yes! Now would you get down here so we don’t have to have this entire conversation shouting at each other? Again.”

“No.” He dropped down to hover just in front of you. “But you can come up.”

“What?”

“Come on, you know the drill.” He was now stood on the ground with two feet.

“And I’m also not seven anymore,” you scoffed.

“You’re the one who wanted to talk.”

“Fine.” With a roll of your eyes, you wrapped your arms around Kunhang’s shoulders.

“God, no need to choke me out.” He made a mock choking sound, pulling at your arms to loosen your grip on him. “If I pass out, we’re both going down, you know.”

You pinched the skin on the back of his neck. “Just fly, stupid.”

And with that, Kunhang pushed up off the ground, his powerful wings easily lifting the both of you up higher and higher. Your flight didn’t last long, just until your friend had reached a tree branch he deemed suitable for the both of you to sit on, high above everything else, your feet swinging below you. The two of you were side-by-side, his wings folded up behind him.

“I’m sorry,” you started, making sure to hold your end of the promise first. “For what I said to you in the student union yesterday. It was a really shitty thing of me to say, and I don’t want you to think for a second that I don’t appreciate you and everything you’ve done for me, Kunhang.”

The gryphon was quiet next to you, and you took him not flying off as a good sign.

“While I shouldn’t have said it to you like that, I need you to understand: You do not have to be my brother.”

You heard him breathe in sharply, like he was about to say something back, but you pushed on.

“For you to think that you’ve had to not only carry the burden of your grief, but mine, and that kind of responsibility, for all these years… I don’t want you to think you have to shoulder all of that. Because you don’t.” You took your eyes off of the leaves in front of you and finally looked over at him. He was staring straight ahead, his mouth a hard line but you saw the tears gathering in his eyes. Your eyes were stinging with bitter tears of your own, and you continued through the lump in your throat, “I need you to listen to me when I say this, Kunhang. I am relieving you of that, okay? Please, let it go. You are not failing me, or him, to just be my friend. I need you to be my friend. My best friend, in the whole world, okay? Can you please do that?”

Kunhang still wasn’t saying anything, but you saw a tear finally slip down his cheek, and his bottom lip trembled. You reached out to hesitantly take his hand, and were surprised when he squeezed yours back with an iron grip.

“I had a brother, and he was great. And he’s gone now.” Your voice cracked over the word ‘gone,’ which was when your friend finally looked at you, and you gave him a bittersweet smile. “And that’s okay. You can’t help either of us hold onto him by becoming him. So can you please let it go? Just let the weight on your shoulders go?”

The gryphon’s brow creased with concern as he finally spoke, “Then who’s going to look out for you, Y/N?”

“Did he ask you to? Look out for me?”

Kunhang nodded.

You looked up towards the sky and gave a cynical but fond chuckle. “Of course he did. You can look out for me, Kunhang. But there’s a difference between looking out for me, and blatantly treating me like a child who can’t be trusted to make her own decisions. I think that’s what’s been hurting me the most. It’s fine that maybe you’re a little iffy about Kun, he’s a vampire that you don’t really know—well, Yangyang kind of does, but whatever, he’s Yangyang.”

That earned you a choked giggle from your friend, and you chuckled a little as well.

“That little bit of suspicion over your friend’s new boyfriend is normal, even welcome sometimes, except you’ve been making me feel like you don’t trust me. Like you think that I’m stupid or something.” You explained with a sigh, disappointment coloring your voice.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought about it like that,” Kunhang admitted, looking at you wistfully. “I don’t think you’re some stupid little kid, by any means. You’ve grown up into such a smart, incredible person that I know your brother is proud of, and that I’m proud of, too, like you’re my own sister.”

“Then act like it, dude,” you scoffed, using your free hand to give him a light smack on the head. “You’ve been making all these assumptions about Kun, and about our relationship, and you refuse to even listen to me or actually like properly sit down and talk to him to see what we’re like together. You want to be the dependable older brother friend? You’ve got to put in the work being you know, dependable, not just be a moody piece of shit about new boyfriends.”

“Okay, I deserve that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But come on, it’s not like he’s new, I mean, he is hundreds of years old.”

“I would shove you out of this tree if I didn’t think you’d take me down with you.”

“So like...” he grimaced. “Does he drink your blood?”

You let go of his hand to cross your arms, and looked Kunhang dead in the eye. “Do you actually want the answer to that?”

The gryphon’s eyes widened comically. “He does?! Y/N!”

“Kunhang, what did we just talk about?”

“Right. Sorry. Uhm... so... tell me about it? I guess?” Each word sounded like its own question, like he was forcing it out.

“Again, do you actually want me to?”

“No,” he answered quickly, a shudder going down his spine. “Just tell me whatever will be reassuring, please.”

You laughed. “Okay. It doesn’t hurt me, seriously. Uh... Kun’s diet is still mostly synthetic blood replacement, and he’ll probably never fully rely on live feeding from me, even after we move in together. Since he’s... old he can control his hunger and his feedings very well. He’s never overfed from me and never will. Happy?”

“You’re moving in together?”

“That’s what you got from that?”

“I know you, Y/N. You thought you could sneak that in among all that blood drinking talk to distract me.” He waggled a finger disapprovingly at you.

“God, fine, Kunhang.” You rolled your eyes. “When my lease is up at the end of next semester, Kun and I have discussed moving in together. But that’s still months away, no need to get your feathers in a bunch yet.”

“How long have you two been dating?”

“Kunhang—”

“I’m just gathering data.” He held his hands up defensively.

“Whatever. You want to gather data? Come over to Kun’s for dinner tonight.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, giving you a feigned apologetic grimace. “Ooh, sorry, I actually just drank some blood for breakfast, so I was going to get some sushi—”

“Save it for open mic night. He’s cooking food and you can bring Yangyang.”

“Sounds great! What time?”

“What are you so dressed up for?” You quirked an eyebrow up when you caught sight of Kun re-emerging from the bedroom in a fresh button-up shirt and pair of dress slacks. “It’s just Kunhang and Yangyang.”

The vampire went back to the pan that he had been tending to on the stove. “I’m hosting dinner at my house, for one. And for some reason that I can’t seem to put my finger on, this feels like a meet-the-parents part two.”

You scoffed at that little jest at the end. “You’ve met Kunhang before.”

“And I got this weird feeling that he didn’t like me.”

“Oh, was it the death glares or all the times I told you he was trying to talk me out of dating you that clued you in?”

He chuckled. “Still, it can’t hurt to want to make a good impression.”

You came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your chin on his shoulder. “It’s going to be fine, hon. I’m here, and Yangyang will be too, which I think will actually help for once.”

“That is a scary thought.”

“You know, I think we give him too little credit sometimes.”

“Who? Yangyang?”

“Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“If it weren’t for his ineptitude, we wouldn’t have gotten together.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Kun set his spatula down and turned around. He readjusted the collar of your shirt, tender gaze tracing over your features. “Now, call me superstitious, but—”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the concept of a vampire being superstitious. A soft smile played across Kun’s lips before he continued.

“—but I think that we would have found each other without the love potion. I don’t know which one of our choices would have eventually made the life that finally brought us together like this, but I think they would. My miracle...” He cupped your cheeks, pulling you in for a gentle, sweet kiss.

While you never wanted this moment to end, the faint, acrid smell of something burning wafted up to your nose, and before you had fully processed that, Kun was already pulling back from the kiss. He cursed under his breath, turning around and pulling the pan off the burner, quickly flipping the food over. You peeked around him to look, seeking a few spots that were a bit blackened.

“Sorry…” You pecked his cheek sheepishly before stepping back fully to leave the kitchen.

Kunhang and Yangyang arrived soon after, the witch almost immediately, and predictably, making a crack about Kun’s house looking like a yard sale, which the gryphon found hilarious. Soon, though, you were seated for dinner, Kun dishing up food for everybody then taking his seat beside you.

“I do have to apologize, one side got a little too crispy,” Kun bowed his head apologetically as everybody had picked up their utensils. “I did my best to alleviate it after the fact, but there may still be some burned areas.”

“Oh, and what were you two doing?” Kunhang waggled his eyebrows, lifting his fork to his mouth.

“Mm?” Your boyfriend didn’t look up from cutting up his food. “Ah, I was changing my shirt and Y/N was setting the table so neither of us were paying attention.”

You opted not to respond, busying yourself with taking a deep sip of your water.

Your gryphon friend dropped his fork back onto his plate with a clatter, disgust on his face. “Y/N, I can hear your heartbeat! Gross!”

“I keep telling you, Kunhang, don’t ask questions that you don’t want the answers to!” You snapped back, pointing a finger at him accusatorily.

“It was just a joke!”

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes!”

Yangyang pushed the food on his plate around with his own fork. “Suddenly I’m not hungry…”

“Oh my god, it’s perfectly sanitary, don’t be dramatic.” You smacked his arm. “It’s either eat it or starve, Yangyang.”

And with that, the witch was back to shoveling food in his mouth. “Don’t have to tell me twice. This is great, Kun!”

Your boyfriend sighed and shook his head. “Thanks, Yangyang.”

After dinner, you knew that Kun was going to start habitually clearing the table, but you already had a plan in mind.

“Kunhang, have you seen Kun’s PC setup?” You asked casually, grabbing yours and Kun’s empty plates before the vampire could. You knew damn well that Kunhang hadn’t seen the computer in his stubborn crusade to avoid Kun at all costs.

The gryphon’s features perked up minutely in interest. “No. Is it a custom build?”

Kun nodded as he reached for a glass. “Yes, it is. I can show you after I—”

But you swiped the glass just before his fingertips could brush it. “You two can go look at it. Yangyang and I have got clean up. Right, Yang?”

To your surprise, the witch gave a thumbs-up from where he was reclined casually in his dining chair, pushing it back to balance just on the rear two feet. “Yeah, all good. Go talk nerd shit.”

“Are you sure?” Your boyfriend asked you, a visible frown on his features over leaving you with clean-up duty.

“Of course. You cooked, we can do the dishes,” you reassured him with a bright smile.

“Alright, thank you.” He pecked your cheek before leading Kunhang out of the dining room.

Once you felt comfortable that you were no longer in the gryphon’s and vampire’s magical earshot, you looked to Yangyang with a curious head tilt.

“So why’d you let me volunteer you for dish duty with no complaints?”

“I knew what you were doing,” he said with a shrug, and stood up to help clear the table. “I don’t like pissy Kunhang anymore than you do, so whatever you think will help.”

“Thanks, Yangyang.” You smiled at your friend sincerely, carrying your stack of plates and utensils over to the sink. “Do you mind putting the leftovers away and I’ll wash the dishes? Heads up, there is blood supplement in the fridge, but it’s synthetic, I promise. If that’s too weird, you can just put everything in containers and I’ll put it away after I’m done washing.”

“I don’t mind, I’ve dealt with grosser. Witch, remember?”

“Right, thanks.”

As Yangyang spooned the little leftover food that there was into a container, you rinsed off the dishes and loaded up the dishwasher.

“So you’re really cool with all this, huh?” Yangyang commented as he opened the fridge up.

“All what?” You asked curiously. “Kun being a vampire? Having to keep my food next to my boyfriend’s synthetic blood? I mean, I grew up with Kunhang and other magical creatures, remember?”

“Fair.” He put the food in and shut the appliance again, leaning against the counter next to you. “So, do you think you could ever do it?”

At your blank stare, Yangyang added on, “Drink blood. I mean, technically you already drank Kun’s in the love potion, but you know, willingly, and a lot of it. If you were to become a vampire, and I’m not even asking existentially about living forever or anything, just the diet. Do you think you could do it? If worst came to worst and blood supplements and synthetic blood were no longer available.”

The witch had a grin on his face like the two of you were giggling kids playing Would You Rather at a sleepover and talking about your crushes, not the actual question he had just posed to you. You chewed on your bottom lip as you thought, still washing a few more pots and cooking utensils from the night.

“I… don’t know,” you answered honestly. “I mean, that all kind of changes when you become a vampire, right? Like, your taste preferences. There’s not a lot of people drinking blood before they turn into vampires, at least.”

“Fewer, for sure.”

“Yeah, I uh, I don’t know, Yang. Would you? Can witches even become vampires?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he sighed wistfully, then turned giddy, “But wouldn’t that be badass? A witch vampire? Vampire witch? God, that’d be so cool!”

“Why can’t witches become vampires? I know you guys aren’t technically humans, but… like, do you know what makes it not work?”

“There’s a lot of theories. As a witch, I’m of course inclined to believe that nature favors balance. A being can only be one kind of magic thing. Humans aren’t magic, but once you guys become something magic, same rule applies to you, no double-dipping, no getting greedy.”

“Seems like a pretty good theory to me.”

Yangyang nodded towards the living room then, “You think it’s been enough time for them to bond over CPU specs or whatever?”

“Probably?” You said. “I’m just glad dinner went as smooth as it did. I hope I wasn’t pushing it with putting them alone in a room together.”

“We haven’t heard shouting or the sound of Kunhang’s neck snapping yet, so that’s a good sign.”

You gave him an unamused look. “You’re truly an optimist.”

“It would totally be self-defense on Kun’s part.”

“Still not helping.”

“Anyway, I’ve got to pee, so—” He pointed down the hall to the guest bathroom, and you nodded with a small smile at your friend’s familiar bluntness.

“Don’t drown in there, Yang.”

He stuck his tongue out at you before disappearing from your sight.

You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves to enter the living room yourself. Coming around the corner, you saw Kun and Kunhang sitting on the main couch together, on opposite ends. Their body language looked relaxed, conversational, and a relieved, genuine smile came to your face as you looked over the two of them.

“Uh-oh, what’s this? The Annual Bad Joke Conference?” You teased, making your way over to perch yourself on the arm of the couch next to Kun, resting an arm on his shoulders. He wrapped his own around your waist, settling his hand on your hip.

“Yes, and now that our keynote speaker is here, we can begin,” Kunhang ribbed you right back.

“Oof.” You clutched at your chest like you’d been stabbed. “I’ve been wounded.”

“I was actually asking Kun about his grad program he’s looking at,” your friend explained, gesturing to your boyfriend.

Kun nodded heartily. “Yes, I was detailing my current predicament about with it being only a one-year master’s, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to work right after or look into finding another one-year master’s to complete since your master’s program will be two years long.”

“Oh, don’t fucking remind me that May isn’t the end right now,” you groaned, dropping your forehead onto the top of Kun’s head.

“Right. My apologies, my love.” He rubbed your back comfortingly.

“Hey, Kun?” Yangyang’s voice floated into the room then, and you picked your head back up to see him walking in.

“Yes, Yangyang?”

“Uh, I really hate to do this, but I kind of accidentally mentioned I was coming over when I was visiting my coven today, and my Grandma asked me to ask you for something?”

“No more blood. I told you, after the love potion, you and your whole coven simply must get your vampire blood from somewhere else.”

“Yeah, I know. And they know. Trust me, I’m never living that one down at sacraments. Uh, no, Grandma told me to ask you for a book back? She said it’s red, about the size of your hand, gold on the edges of the pages?”

“Did she tell you what it’s called?”

“She said you’d know what it was?”

“What… oh.”

You frowned at the concerned look on Kun’s face. “What? What is it?”

“It’s a cursed book of fairytales. I don’t know how Yangyang’s grandmother had acquired it in the first place, but it was wreaking havoc on the coven some years ago. Lures in any children nearby, they couldn’t risk even having it there in a spellbox. She gave it to me for safekeeping,” he explained, looking over to the witch. “Why does she want it back?”

“No clue. Better not to ask questions with her.”

“Yes, I’m aware. Well, it should definitely be around here… somewhere.” Kun stood up with a sigh, looking around the living room. “If not in here, then probably the library, or the bedroom… or the guest room… or the attic. I definitely still have it, I kept it when I moved in here, I know that much.”

Yangyang gave him a skeptical look. “I’ll help you look.”

“Thanks. I don’t feel anything in here, we should start in the library.” The vampire nodded towards the other room. “Alright now, Yangyang, if you think you’ve found it, don’t touch it, you’ll reactivate the curse.”

“I know how curses work! Witch, remember?”

“Witch who puts his potions in Gorgonade bottles! Remember?”

As the two of them headed off, still bickering, you and Kunhang just looked at each other, bursting into giggles at the same time.

“He’s totally going to forget and touch it if it finds it.” You shook your head, sliding down onto the main couch cushions.

“Yeah, he’d be all ‘Look, Kun, I found it!’” Kunhang zealously imitated his roommate yanking a book off a shelf. “And then bam, get cursed like an idiot.”

“I hope that thing’s in the attic. I don’t want to think that I could’ve been almost accidentally cursing myself this whole time.”

“Yikes. Better have Yangyang ask his grandma if Kun is hanging onto anything else for her.”

“Why do you think she wants it back?”

“You never know with Grandma Liu.”

You nodded, silent as you pondered this for a moment, having never met anybody from Yangyang’s coven, much less his grandmother, the matriarch of it. Kunhang left the silence alone for a while before he finally spoke again.

“Okay, fine. He’s not so bad,” he admitted with a half-hearted eyeroll.

“What finally did it?” You asked curiously.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, what was it? What finally convinced you?”

“He’s a pretty good cook.”

“Your stomach, of course.”

“Hey—”

“Look, I’m just glad this is all resolved now,” you grinned, scooting closer to him to wrap an arm around him.

Your friend threw an arm and a wing over your shoulders, pulling you in closer. “Yeah, me too. You deserve something so… good. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, Kunhang.” You rubbed his back. “Seriously, for everything.”

Later that night, after you and Kun had seen Yangyang and Kunhang off at the front door with the cursed book in a DIY magic biohazard disposal container consisting of several garbage bags, glass tupperwares, and gloves for the witch to wear while he carried it, then finished tidying up the kitchen. Now you two were sat on the couch, quietly absorbed in your own activities as music streamed from his record player. It was some obscure, limited press record that Kun had picked up on a whim at one of the band’s shows decades ago now; a Google search for the album or band name didn’t even turn up any results. You were reclined in a half-laying position reading by the light of a lamp, intent on finishing all of The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes, while Kun was tinkering with the settings of a new camera he had bought the other day. How well he could calibrate it in his darkened living room, you didn’t know, but you were content to let him fiddle with it in peace so long as he let you keep your legs in his lap.

You were faintly aware of him occasionally taking pictures of the objects around the room, and of you, and lifted the book even high to cover more of your face.

“Kun...” You said his name with a hint of warning, not taking your eyes off your page.

“What?” Another shutter click.

“You have to have a million photos of me by now.”

“Maybe I want a million and one.” Another click. “Okay, maybe a million and two.”

You smiled to yourself as you continued reading, and Kun pointed the lens elsewhere to test the flash. As you came to a good stopping point at the end of one of the short stories, you laid the attached ribbon bookmark in between the pages and shut the book. You watched Kun fuss with the settings for a few moments, amused and endeared as he would sometimes point the lens and make an adjustment without even taking a picture, and sometimes take several photos, look at them, then change something.

“So, what were you and Kunhang talking about?” You asked him as nonchalantly as possible.

He snapped around to look at you. “Hm?”

“I’ve known that man my whole life. I know when he’s bullshitting me,” you informed him, not a hint of anger or malice in your tone. “Very kind of you to go along with it in the moment, by the way.”

“I’m sorry, he stressed that he really didn’t want you to know,” Kun apologized sincerely, setting his camera down on the coffee table.

“What did he tell you? If it was about the first time I went flying, I didn’t throw up everywhere, and really he was the one who—”

“He wanted to ask me something, and you really must tell me this story at a later time.”

“Oh.” You looked around awkwardly. “What did he ask you?”

He focused his red eyes on you, a much more serious air descending on the conversation and his tone. “If I was going to turn you, or if I ever would.”

“Oh God, Kun, I’m sorry.” You shot up into a proper sitting position. “We don’t even live together, he shouldn’t have been asking you if we’ve talked about eternity. As if that’s even his business in the first place anyway.”

“He seemed very concerned about your view on mortality since your brother’s passing,” your boyfriend explained with what you knew were his carefully chosen words. No way Kunhang had that kind of tact.

“He thinks I’m dating a vampire to cope with my brother dying. Great armchair psychology.”

“I don’t think that. I remember when you said that you’re okay with not being here forever. When we went to the video gallery during the love potion incident.”

“Look, I can’t lie and say that it doesn’t bring me comfort to know that you’re not going to get hit by a bus tomorrow and die, or get cancer, or some other horrible illness and die a slow painful death while all I can do is watch. Like that’s… definitely a plus.” You admitted with a chuckle, taking one of Kun’s hands in both of yours. “But that’s not why I’m dating you. And I’m definitely not dating you in hopes that one day you’ll turn me. Like I said, we don’t even live together— eternity, or lack thereof, is not a conversation to be had yet.”

Kun nodded, brushing his thumb over the backs of your fingers. “I believe that’s a fair assessment. I’m of course content to take this at whatever pace you want, Y/N. I’m just glad to have the honor of being in your life, for however long that may be.”

“So what did you tell Kunhang? Because he seemed awfully happy with himself after you two talked.”

He paused, looking down at your entwined hands, then back up at you. “Do you remember how I was turned?”

“You broke your leg and the broken bone nicked an artery. Your friend turned you to save your life because you were bleeding out,” you summarized the gist of the full story, which you’d finally heard some time after you’d started dating.

“I told him I’d never take the choice from you. He seemed to like that answer.”

You let out a small sigh of relief. Honestly, you had half expected Kunhang to flip out at any possibility of Kun being willing to turn you. Seems like he really had listened to you this afternoon.

You pressed a kiss to Kun’s cheek. “Thank you, Kun. I like that answer, too. But again, I am so sorry he put you on the spot like that.”

“Y/N…” Kun murmured, bringing his free hand to gently caress your face. “I know I just said that I’m content to take this at whatever pace you’re comfortable with. And that is true. But I want you to know… that after so long, I know what I want, and because of that it was so easy to fall in love with you. So I’m ready for whatever you’re ready for, whenever you’re ready. You want to move in together? Okay. You want to get three cats? Okay. You want to talk about forever? That will have to be more conversations than the cats, but sure, we can talk about it, talk about a plan.”

“Kun…” You breathed his name out, tightening your hold on his hand in hopes that could convey even a fraction of all the tongue-tied words you couldn’t figure out how to say in that moment.

“I’m sorry, that was too much.” He shook his head at himself.

“No, no. It wasn’t,” you reassured him. “But, I’m not ready to talk about forever right now… I-I don’t even have my bachelor’s yet.”

“That’s okay. Like I said, I want whatever pace you want. I just want you, for however long that’ll be.” He brought your hands up to leave a feather-light kiss on your fingers.

“But the fact that you would be ready to talk about forever…” You let go of his hand entirely to loop your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to press your lips to his. His hands easily settled on your waist and lower back as you felt him melt into the kiss.

When you finally needed air—as Kun could theoretically go on for eternity—you then rested your forehead against his. “I love you, a lot, Kun. I do know that.”

“I love you, too.” Kun ran his fingertips up and down your back. “And know that I really do mean a plan for before forever. You wouldn’t say the word and I’d turn you the next second or anything hasty like that. But, you said you’re not ready to talk about it, so I will shut up now.”

You smiled to yourself at his almost nervous clarification, as if he were worried that he’d scare you off. It was endearing, to get glimpses like this where even his hundreds of years of living hadn’t prepared him for whatever was happening, and his usually calm, smooth words failed him even just for a moment. You pressed a long kiss to his temple.

After a beat, you pulled back enough to see all of his face. “Then, maybe let’s start with moving in?”

“Really?” He grinned, dimples appearing on both cheeks.

“Yeah… I’m already over here so much my apartment is practically just a really expensive storage unit at this point.”

“I’ll have to make room… for… your things…” He looked around his rather maximalist living room as if taking in just how much stuff he had for the first time.

“I need to downsize anyway.” You tried to reassure him casually.

“No, I’ll make room.”

At the anxiety growing on his face, you started rubbing his arm reassuringly. “We’ve got a few months to figure it out, don’t worry.”

“Maybe we can get a new house,” he mused aloud, then turned to you with a hopeful look. “A three bedroom?”

“Who will those other two bedrooms be for?”

“…Guests.”

“And your knickknacks.”

“Well—”

“No, wait, I like this idea. Our bedroom, a guest room, and one can be an office-slash-knickknack room.” You counted the three rooms off on your fingers. “Your producing desk can go in there so you can have some more privacy for all your secret projects.”

“Yes, it will be harder to hide them once we live together. Oh no, you’ve caught me,” he gave his ‘confession’ monotonously, earning a laugh from you. Kun gazed at you fondly, softness coming back to his features as he added, “I actually wanted to show you the one I was working on this morning.”

“You finished it?”

“Things are never finished with me, especially since I live forever, but if I listen to it anymore I think I’m going to cut my ears off, so yeah.”

“A ringing endorsement. I’m excited.”

So you two migrated over to his producing desk, where he insistently pulled you onto his lap instead of letting you bring your own chair to watch as he opened the project he had so hastily exited out of this morning. You indulged yourself and ran your fingers through Kun’s hair, brushing a couple stray pieces back from his face.

He looked up from the screen to you, his brows that were furrowed with concentration now quirking up in confusion. “Hm?”

“Nothing. You just look hot like this, all focused on your task. Has nobody told you that before?”

“I can’t say anybody has, no.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You lie to me, Qian Kun. All these years, not one person has told you? I don’t believe that.”

“I went through a brief stint as a bit of a hermit… didn’t have many visitors. Definitely not ones that hung around my home much as you do and got to just observe me performing various tasks.”

“Hm. Fine.” You grabbed his chin to connect your lips with his.

He hummed contentedly against your mouth, entirely unconcerned that his original goal had been sidetracked. You parted your lips to deepen the kiss as you felt one of his hands land on your hip, abandoning where it had previously been on either the keyboard or mouse.

When you finally pulled back, you had a well-kissed Qian Kun in front of you. He looked up at you with slightly glazed-over eyes, a winded smirk on his face as he asked, “And what was that for?”

“Like I said, you look hot like this. Another good reason for us to tuck your producing desk away when we live together. You’d never get any work done if you were just out in the open.”

“Maybe we should downsize, actually. A one bedroom? Studio?”

“Mm, weren’t you going to show me something?” You asked innocently, one finger tapping his cheek.

“Was I?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” you played along with a giggle, letting go of his face to mess with the collar of his shirt.

“You’re awful sometimes, you know?” He shook his head and laughed, returning his focus to the computer screens, as did you. After a couple more clicks, he had an audio file pulled up. “Ready?”

You settled in so that you were actually facing the screen, one arm around his shoulders. “Ready.”

Kun pressed play on it, and soon a euphonious melody was playing through the speakers. It was a full arrangement with strings, piano, drums, and even a couple sung verses that you easily recognized as Kun’s voice. You’d heard him hum while cooking, or sing along to the old radio and vinyl player in his home, but never a proper performance like this. The song was less than a couple minutes, but it was gorgeous, and you could feel a wide, delighted smile on your features as you listened.

“Kun…” You breathed out in awe once it was over, turning to look at your boyfriend. “That was so beautiful. You… have such a beautiful mind. Thank you for showing me that. I… I just…”

You were at a loss for words, getting too choked up on your thoughts as you gazed down at him. Hesitantly stroking your thumb over his cheekbone, for a moment you almost couldn’t believe he was real, that he was so miraculous, and was right here, with you.

Kun gently took your hand from his face and held it in his, kissing the back of your knuckles tenderly before resting it on his chest. “I love you, Y/N. So much. Do you want to listen to it again?”

You nodded quickly, resting your head in the crook of his neck and closing your eyes. First, the click of the mouse, then the gorgeous work of art that Kun had composed for you played once more. You pressed a kiss against whatever skin of his neck was closest to your mouth.

“I love you, Kun,” you murmured, squeezing his hand that was still holding yours. “I love you so much. More than whatever eternity we’ll have together, big or small, I’ll love you for even longer than that.”

The song ended, and he played it again before wrapping his other arm around you tightly. The two of you listened to it quietly, the only other sounds that of your breathing. And as it neared the end, it looped back to the beginning all on its own, without Kun having to let go of you.

⤷ blog masterlist  ⤷ anthology masterlist

#nct x reader #kun x reader #wayv x reader #qian kun x reader #nct #wayv #kun #qian kun #nct imagine #wayv imagine #kun imagine #qian kun imagine #nct fluff #wayv fluff #kun fluff #qian kun fluff #i: kun #f: miracle #au: strawberry sunday #writing #text #mine

[deadpresidents]

Just saw Oppenheimer and I was a bit disappointed with how they portrayed Truman. He came across pretty poorly IMO. It was only one scene but I wondered what you thought.

I understand your disappointment and it certainly wasn't a very in-depth portrayal of Truman, but according to the book that the movie was largely based on -- American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer by Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO) -- the meeting that Oppenheimer had with President Truman went down pretty much as depicted in the film.

As Bird and Sherwin write in American Prometheus:

(O)n October 25, 1945, Oppenheimer was ushered into the Oval Office. President Truman was naturally curious to meet the celebrated physicist, whom he knew by reputation to be an eloquent and charismatic figure. After being introduced by Secretary [of War Robert P.] Patterson, the only other individual in the room, the three men sat down. By one account, Truman opened the conversation by asking for Oppenheimer's help in getting Congress to pass the May-Johnson bill, giving the Army permanent control over atomic energy. "The first thing is to define the national problem," Truman said, "then the international." Oppenheimer let an uncomfortably long silence pass and then said, haltingly, "Perhaps it would be best first to define the international problem." He meant, of course, that the first imperative was to stop the spread of these weapons by placing international controls over all atomic technology. At one point in their conversation, Truman suddenly asked him to guess when the Russians would develop their own atomic bomb. When Oppie replied that he did not know, Truman confidently said he knew the answer: "Never." For Oppenheimer, such foolishness was proof of Truman's limitations. The "incomprehension it showed just knocked the heart out of him," recalled Willie Higinbotham. As for Truman, a man who compensated for his insecurities with calculated displays of decisiveness, Oppenheimer seemed maddeningly tentative, obscure -- and cheerless. Finally, sensing that the President was not comprehending the deadly urgency of his message, Oppenheimer nervously wrung his hands and uttered another of those regrettable remarks that he characteristically made under pressure. "Mr. President," he said quietly, "I feel I have blood on my hands." The comment angered Truman. He later informed David Lilienthal, "I told him the blood was on my hands -- to let me worry about that." But over the years, Truman embellished the story. By one account, he replied, "Never mind, it'll all come out in the wash." In yet another version, he pulled his handkerchief from his breast pocket and offered it to Oppenheimer, saying, "Well, here, would you like to wipe your hands?" An awkward silence followed this exchange, and then Truman stood up to signal that the meeting was over. The two men shook hands, and Truman reportedly said, "Don't worry, we're going to work something out, and you're going to help us." Afterwards, the President was heard to mutter, "Blood on his hands, dammit, he hasn't half as much blood on his hands as I have. You just don't go around bellyaching about it." He later told [Secretary of State] Dean Acheson, "I don't want to see that son-of-a-bitch in this office ever again." Even in May 1946, the encounter still vivid in his mind, he wrote Acheson and described Oppenheimer as a "cry-baby scientist" who had come to "my office some five or six months ago and spent most of his time wringing his hands and telling me they had blood on them because of the discovery of atomic energy."

#Oppenheimer #History #Oppenheimer Film #J. Robert Oppenheimer #Harry S. Truman #President Truman #Truman Administration #Atomic Bomb #Manhattan Project #Trinity Test #Oppenheimer Movie #Christopher Nolan #Cillian Murphy #Gary Oldman #American Prometheus #American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer #Kai Bird #Martin J. Sherwin #Nuclear Weapons #World War II